#this is what happens when you grow up with a need for academic validation. you develop a praise kink as a coping mechanism. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tieronecrush · 8 months

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꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter five: hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 6.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! got my life together and got the chapter done for y'all <333 also thank you for always validating me and loving these two as much as me <3 you are stuck beta-reading for me forever hehe @northernbluess

“Christ, Bebita, that one is as good as the last one and the one before that and the one before that. I can’t pick, you look too damn good in all of ‘em.” Javier traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, reaching a hand up to swipe his thumb at the corner of his open mouth and sniffling on an inhale. Expansive, strong torso and broad, steady shoulders trail down to his legs that stretch out from the small square stool in the corner of the dressing room you’ve been occupying for at least twenty minutes.

His gentle toffee eyes study your form in the earthy olive-toned cocktail dress; the silky material hugs your curves while you twist in view of the mirror, the hemline hitting mid-calf and a halter top covering your chest modestly while leaving your shoulders and back bare. There’s delicate glass beading embroidered into floral and leafy patterns along the bodice, reflecting the lights. You can imagine the way it will look in the low light, swanky library party with enough champagne passed around for all of the academics to let loose. It’s a bit of a stretch for appropriate for the department event, but with the burning of Javier’s eyes into your skin, you know that this one is doing something a bit more than the last five dresses. Sighing with resignation, you drop your hands from where they are mapping over the intricate beading. Your bottom lip releases from between your teeth and you take a step closer to Javi, chuckling softly when his hands involuntarily reach for your hips to pull you between his open legs.

“That isn’t helpful feedback, Javier. I need some concrete decisions to be made. You’re in charge of my dress unless you can’t handle it cause then I’ll—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This one, I choose this one,” he muffles his voice when he leans forward to press kisses against the skin of your forearms, toying with your fingers and intertwining them with his when his large hands find your smaller ones. “You’re beautiful in everythin’, Bebita, any of these dresses, or even a paper bag, and you’re fucking stunning. But I can tell you liked this one most.”

Javier lifts his head to meet your eyes, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile — satisfied, content, proud that he knows you so well to be able to read you like that.

It’s simultaneously making your heart beat faster, your stomach drops to the floor, and your palms grow sweaty. He’s so much more to you, but you’re too cowardly to admit it to him. Javier is…everything you’ve hoped for, but has come at the worst time.

It’s a job. That’s all. He has to be, or else you’re screwed if you say ‘fuck it’ and drop all of your other clients and give Javier your heart. There’s no way that you could continue living in your apartment and attending school; you would probably have to go back to working full-time until you could break your lease and find somewhere cheaper or move home and transfer your credits.

“Y’alright there, angel? Lookin’ a little flushed.” Javier’s brows knit with concern until you brush them away, thumb lightly rubbing the fold in his skin to relax it.

“M’alright, Javi. Think it’s time to quit the try-on portion of the day.” Hands reach back to find the zipper, Javier jumps up quickly and walks you back a few inches to have the room to slip behind you and take over the task.

“Guess it’s the take-off portion? Lemme do it for you, gonna need the practice of gettin’ this off when I take you home Friday night.” Through the reflection, he catches your eye and smirks boyishly, dragging the zipper down your lower back and folding forward to press ghosting kisses to your smooth skin. “Mm, so soft, angel. Smell so sweet.”

His voice drops lower, rasp biting out on the upticks of his speaking, “D’you know what watchin’ you in all these pretty dresses has done to me?”

A sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head languidly, rolling it on your shoulders, “No…Wh-what did it do?”

Without a word, Javier unclasps the halter of your dress, dropping the material to fall to your ankles. In the midst of you stepping out of the circle of fabric, he grips your hips tightly and tugs you back to his chest. Then you feel it, when your back arches and your lower half presses backward, the bulge of his hard cock prodding into the swell of your ass.

“Javi—”

“Nuh uh, Bebita. No Javi.” His lips are at the pressure point under your ear, your eyes fluttering closed while one hand snakes back to tangle into his hair. Grinding back against him, you lick your lips and whimper when a hand of his reaches around your front and slips between your legs to brush your clit.

“Papí…Fuck, papí…Need you.”

“Manners, Bebita. Or else you’re just gonna get on your knees and take care of me. Ask nicely and I’ll help both of us.”

“Please, papí, may I please have it?”

“Have what, angel?”

“Your c—cock,” you whimper out, the tail of the word trembling out when Javier’s fingers hook under the center of your panties and tease at your dripping entrance.

“There’s my good girl. How could I say no to you bein’ so sweet for me? Think I need to get you ready before I give you my cock, though, Bebita.”

With a sigh, your mouth opens and you reach one hand to grip Javi’s forearm wrapped around you, your other arm stretching out to press your palm against the full length mirror. A dark chuckle slips out of Javi, two thick fingers pushing into your tight walls. In an immediate reaction, a whimper squeezes out of your throat in a yelp. Knuckle deep in your cunt, Javi hooks his fingers to nudge at the spongy spot, extra sensitive. The sensation buckles your knees, Javi catching you with his thigh between yours and his arm flexing tighter around you, tugging you back up while his hand moves faster. Your teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down to silence the noises threatening to expose your activity.

His lips line up against the shell of your ear, brushing lightly against your skin and sending goosebumps across your neck and shoulders, “Bet you’re dying to give me those little noises of yours, angel. How ‘bout just one ‘papí’, Bebita? Jus’ one for me, and I’ll let you come.”

The heel of Javier’s hand rubs the cotton fabric of your panties against your clit, the friction feeling delicious and sending tingles across your nerves to curl your toes. Your head shakes back and forth subtly, enough to be perceptable to the man behind you. The speed of his fingers slows to a stop, pulling out to sit shallowly inside of you without leaving completely. Metallic taste hits your tongue, part of your lip broken from how hard you’ve been biting it to keep everything inside.

“Is that a no, angel? Gonna say no to my lil request?” He questions you, a rough squeeze grips one of your ass cheeks, opening your eyes to meet Javi’s in the reflection, “Answer me.”

An audible swallow slides down your throat before you open your mouth again, bottom lip swollen with it’s split, “I don’t wanna get caught, Javi—”

The last syllable raises in pitch when he sinks his fingers into you fully, a third added effortlessly. They still inside of you, stretching you divinely, but there’s a craving, a fullness that feels like a burning need in the pit of your stomach. You see the game he’s playing, the upper hand he loves to have with you that you give away willingly. With a bend of his fingers, that same spot is getting its desired attention and sending your logic spiraling.

Fuck it. Javier can get an old sheriff buddy to bail you both out if you get arrested.

Reaching one arm behind you, your left still pressed against the mirror for support, your fingers tangle into his hair and tug his head over your shoulder more. Javier rolls a low groan from his throat, the sound ringing in your ear. You turn your head to face him, nose nudging against his while fingers continue to work you up, teetering you on the edge. Open mouths pass warm breaths back and forth, Javier chasing your lips and skin with his, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

The tightness around his fingers drives his circulation below the waist, straining against the fabric of his slacks. Grinding against your ass as he fucks you with his hand, all he has on his mind is feeling you convulse under his touch, driven so far over that you can’t stand up.

His teeth scrape against the skin at your jaw, a smirk growing subtly on your face — it’s his telltale sign of the height of his desperation.

Leaning your head back further, your lips are much closer to his ear; when the speed of his fingers increases, your own grip his hair tighter and moan, the sound soft and airy but coated in lust.

It’s a spark in his mind, sliding his left hand resting on your right hip across your lower stomach and down your thigh, grabbing it from around the inside and lifting it up. The position change allows his fingers to reach deeper, your head pressing hard back into his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes—“ The noises you want to make die in your throat, mouth hanging open as Javi chuckles darkly against your cheek.

“Say it, baby, tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you really want. Gonna fuck you full of me, Bebita. Isn’t that what you’re aching for?” His words hold you at the edge, toes curled against the wooden floor of the fitting room while your head rolls to the side against him.

Recovering from your dry mouth, you conjure up the first thoughts that pop into your head, the image of him fucking you and the closeness of your release projecting the words from your chest, “Papí, papí — oh my god! Always know how to make me feel so, so good, Papí…God, even your fingers make me f-feel so full. M’gonna—fuck, gonna come, please.”

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Mi zorrita buena, acaba para mí. Come for me, Bebita.”

Your wall tightens around his three thick fingers, the sound of you moaning catching in your throat as you attempt to hold back. It comes out in a higher pitch, struggling but heard by Javier whose head is still on your shoulder. He’s mumbling to you, kissing the corner of your jaw while his hand comes to a slow stop to guide you through your orgasm. When he pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while you look behind at him.

A satisfied smirk takes the place of his hand when he pulls them out with a pop, reaching out for you and pulling you back against his chest with a stumble. A delicate kiss is pressed to your bare skin at your back, a shiver running down your spine while one of Javi’s hands finds the swell of your ass and squeezes.

“You want my cock now, Bebita? Bet you do. Want everyone in this fucking store to know you’re mine, right? Want them to hear those sounds that you just can’t hold back, want them to hear you calling me papí, don’t you?” Your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open as any sort of response flees your mind. Javier stands up straight behind you, quietly fumbling with his belt, the sounds of metal piquing your attention. His button and the drag of his zipper follow shortly, the soft noises of him barely undressing stirring up your stomach.

Between your legs, you feel a rush of arousal when his sigh hits your ears, the same one he always makes when you take his cock out of his pants. Saliva coats your mouth in eager awaiting, shallow breaths attempting to fill your lungs.

Javier surveys you, licking his lips as his hand passes down your spine, gently pressing your forward until both arms catch your weight against the mirror. He traces the new arch in your back before his hand finds your panties, not bothering to take them off again, but pausing for a split second to admire the wet spot you made. His mouth hangs open slightly, bated breath heightening the temperature of the small room. The sight of your cunt dripping for him dries his mouth out, eager to have another taste, but ultimately prioritizing his needs and the higher risk of being caught the more time passes.

Lining his head up with your entrance, he thrusts in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you. He sighs deeply while reaching for one of your shoulders for leverage, gripping it with his fingers as he starts a shallow thrust.

Meeting your eyes through the reflection, he chokes out a hushed warning, “Fuck, Bebita, m’not gonna last long. Feel too fucking good.”

You moan softly in response, the mirror fogging up with the puff of hot air that leaves your mouth. Javier turns his attention to where you’re connected, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him easily. When his eyes flick back to your face, your own are closed as you make muffled, sweet sounds of pleasure.

“Open up, angel, want you to look at yourself gettin’ fucked. Look in the mirror, Bebita, and see how pretty you look taking my cock, how much you love fucking in public for everyone to hear.” Javier words have you reaching for a grip against the flat surface of the mirror, nodding with a whine as he gives you slightly deeper thrusts. “Tell me how much you love it, Bebita.”

“Fucking lov-love when you give me your cock, Papí. Love it even more knowin’ someone can hear us, that they’re gonna know m’all yours,” you watch Javi’s face contort with attempted restraint, nodding as one hand drifts to grab at your tits, his strong hold pulling you to stand with your back flush to his chest.

The next few thrusts are audible with how hard he fucks into you, mumbles of Spanish and English spoken into your ear, “Una chica tan sucia. Eres perfecto para mí…(Such a dirty girl. You’re perfect for me…) Wanna jus’ take care of you, Bebita — my babygirl. You’re a good girl, angel. So fucking good. Te sientes bien, como un nuevo comienzo. Mi nuevo comienzo. (You feel good, like a fresh start. My fresh start.) S’like you’re my angel, Bebita. Mine.”

At the last word uttered, Javier moans into your ear, the sound clipping into a hiss as his warm spend fills you up. Your chest is heaving from the exertion of it all, skin burning with those ramblings from Javier.

He’s made it clear how he feels, short of three words.

At the thought, a sharp pain in your chest seizes your lungs, choking out a cough while Javi pulls out of you and fixes your panties. A hand pets your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head from behind.

“You alright, Bebita? M’sorry I didn’t last long there. All this shopping got me worked up, I guess. You feel good though? Satisfied, mi Bebita?” He accepts the answer of your nod and softened smile through the mirror, planting one more kiss on your cheek before he unravels from you and gets fully dressed again. “I’ll take the dress up front to pay while you get dressed, okay angel? Then we can go wherever else you wanna go.”

Taking in his affectionate expression, softened brown eyes and one side of his mouth quirked up in a Javi smile, you feel the same pain in your chest, the words of a confession tingling the tip of your tongue. Instead you swallow it back and match his smile, taking the two steps over to him and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“So shoes next then?” Javi’s nose nudges against yours before his head tilts back with a slightly defeated laugh.

“Anything you want, Bebita. Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

This time you physically bite your tongue to hold back, wrapping him up in a fleeting, squeezing hug.

“Thank you, Javi.”

Hearing yourself back, you can’t tell if it was meant as permission to let yourself fall, those three words serving as placeholders, or if it was a last ditch effort to sever your feelings for him.

Either way, you still knew you were in trouble.

The flute in your hand is cool to the touch when you pick it up from the entry table in the old university church that was converted into an events space. The gothic details of its once lived purpose catch your attention as you look around, dark, carved wooden fixtures and slate gray stone walls. The carpet is dated, an aged beige that spans most of the room that is filled with people from across the Psychology and Sociology department; large leaded windows line the interior, framed by heavy curtains in burnt orange.

There’s a bar at either end of the room, a handful of high top cocktail tables littered around. Your eyes continue to scan, this time focusing on all of the attendees. Peers, former and current professors, administration, and donors all mingle with each other — there’s a few familiar faces that you send a smile to, continuing your exploration for the one face you’re actually looking for.

Your nerves are tingling like the bubbles popping in your glass, bringing the fragile rim up to your lips for a long sip. Relaxing your shoulders, the first drink of alcohol sitting warm in your stomach. Before you put on a brave face and step forward to go mill about, a low rasp from close behind catches your attention.

“I’ve got some pretty taste in dresses, huh Bebita?”

Javier’s voice sends goosebumps down your spine and across your shoulders; you fight a smile, the corners of your lips turning up slightly as he steps up beside you. After eyeing the glass of whiskey in his hand, your stare grazes along his body.

He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white button down underneath his open blazer. Your smile grows when you see his olive tie, patterned with stitch-thin white pinstripes. Immediately, your eyes flick up to his face, a knowing smirk and a wink shot your way.

“Nice to see you, Professor Peña,” you say courteously, bringing your glass up to your lips for another sip.

“Having a nice night so far?” he counters, turning his body to face you, closing you off to the rest of the room and filling your view with only his frame. “Lookin’ beautiful tonight, angel. All this for chatting shit with professors.”

“I wear a lot less to chat shit with one of my professors.” You send him back a wink, smirk growing as you hold it back while he laughs and sip at your drink.

“Got me there. But we both know m’not just one of your professors, Bebita.” His fingers grip at his glass of whiskey tighter, lifting it to his mouth before he rasps out, only loud enough for you to hear. “Can’t wait to get you home, gonna rip that fucking dress off of you.”

The words send a rush of warmth down your body, clenching your thighs together where you stand. Javi’s hand grazes your side as he lifts his drink to yours, clicking them together.

“Cheers, Bebita. Gonna be a long night not bein’ able to have my hands on you, but jus’ want you to know I won’t be thinking about anything other than you.” The heat spreads to the back of your neck, your own hand reaching out to brush your fingers against his in a fleeting touch.

“You better go mingle, angel. Go let everyone know that you’re the smartest person in the room,” he whispers to you with a lopsided grin, moving to stand at your side once again.

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, swatting a hand at his affection, the smile you’ve been fighting finally lighting up your eyes.

“See you later, Javi. Meet at your truck later?”

“I’ll be there for you, Bebita.”

The room’s temperature has to have risen a few degrees from all the hot air that these academic stuck-ups have been blowing all night. It’s all bullshit, what he finds himself listening to — no one has any experience in the field like he has, most of them lawyers who barely see the inside of a courtroom these days.

As he takes a sip of his second whiskey of the night, his eyes find you across the room. Standing at a table with a small group around it, your back is to him with your face cheated to the side so he can make out your profile. Drinking you in, he notices the body language you’re displaying. Leaning onto the table toward the man next to you, curling yourself in to make yourself smaller, meeker. Your eyelashes are batting, slow blinks that he pictures you doing when he’s between your legs, the image in his mind and the thought of you doing that for someone else kindling a flame of jealousy inside of him.

He studies you two having a conversation, clenching his jaw tighter with every laugh and beaming smile you give to the man.

The guy next to you is dressed similarly to Javier, a navy suit with crisp white shirt, but no tie around his neck — he’s one of those. Must be one of the rich donors based on the crispness of his suit, the starched button-up giving Javier the clue that he regularly gets them serviced at the dry cleaners. He’s clearly older than Javier, gray hair speckled with whites and a few more lines across his face than what Javier has, despite the extreme stress of the last near decade of his life.

You must be keeping him young.

His eyes stay glued to the two of you, the kindling ashes catching into hotter flames when your hand rests on the man’s bicep. This scumbag’s own hand slips around your back, trailing down to the hem that sits in the middle of your back. The twitch of his fingers moving further south propels Javier into action, excusing himself from the small circle he’s standing in to make his way over to you.

He controls his speed, wanting to rush over and clock the man in the face for touching you, for taking advantage of you being a student at the mercy of his generosity.

Instead, he clenches his fist and downs the last of his alcohol, slamming the glass onto a table that he passes by in his path to you.

Saddling up behind the two of you, he smacks on his best charming smile as he clears his throat to interrupt. The man’s hand drops from you, and yours from him, both stepping backward from each other and facing his interruption.

“Evening,” he begins, using your name as he greets you. In your eyes, he can see the widening of them, as if you’re surprised — no, as if you’ve been caught?

Caught for what?

He presses on, desperate to get you away from this creep and into some place where he can hold you. Somewhere private, alone, secluded for the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, my name’s Javier Peña. Professor in the Sociology department.” Javier reaches out his right hand to the man, his left flicking his open jacket back and resting on his hip as he pops his leg out.

The man shakes his hand as his eyebrows raise, nodding, “Mark Shepherd. It’s great to meet you, Professor Peña. Or is it still Agent?” Mark attempts a light jest, laughing until he sees Javier isn’t.

“Professor’s just fine. Turned in my badge when I retired.” A look over at you and he can see guilt all over your face.

Guilt.

Flirty body language.

Laughing at jokes that couldn’t have been funny — this man is as dry as the desert.

You’re fucking him.

“How’re liking the university so far? Enjoying the new building? Hopefully my donation was large enough to get you your own office — I was talking to Dean Banks just a few minutes ago and he brought up how you’re the Big Man on Campus…”

Javier tunes out the rest of what Mark is saying, a full blossoming of his temper boiling him from the inside. He keeps his eyes on you, your own avoiding him while you look around the room.

Why did you lie to him? This whole time he was telling you that it’s only you for him; how could you sit there and hear that and feel all the devotion he has for you — all of the care he’s given you, and not tell him the truth?

He thought it was only him. That you were his, that there was something more growing out of this. He was in so deep, he was starting to forget the circumstances that brought you two together, starting to ignore the balance changes in his account monthly.

Fuck, he was wrong about you.

Interrupting Mark, Javier turns back to him with the same friendly smile, telling him you’re his student in one of his courses, “I’m so sorry, buddy, but do you think I could steal her away for a few minutes? There’s someone I wanted her to meet that I mentioned in a lecture last week.”

Your face contorts with confusion as Mark gestures for the two of you to head off, Javier leading you from behind to weave in and out of the groups in the room all the way to an exit into the corridor. When the doors shut behind him, he takes one look at you before he storms off in the direction of the doors to the small patio attached to the building.

“Fuck me. This is not how I wanted this night to go...” you mumble to yourself, feeling your emotion catch in your throat — a similar feeling to being caught in your mess of lies and omitted information only moments ago.

You were caught out by the last person you wanted to find out that way — the one person who’s feelings you would work to protect everyday, which is why you lied in the first place.

Craving his touch, his arms wrapping you in his strong, solid embrace, you follow after him, hope beating in your chest as you formulate the best possible explanation of it all.

Outside, the winter is biting into the weather, a chill breeze blowing the tendrils of Javier’s hair up while he fishes a cigarette from the box in his inside jacket pocket. The same wind is blowing out the flame of his lighter as he attempts to light the small vice in his mouth that will allow him a moment of peace, a moment to think.

“Goddammit,” Javier curses under his breath as he struggles to click his lighter on, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, kicking his shoes against the brick when he hears the creak of the heavy door. Turning over his shoulder, he’s met with the view of you, purse hanging over one shoulder and heels clicking slowly as you approach him.

Without a word, you reach into your purse at your side, fishing out an aged silver Zippo lighter. Your arm outstretched, lifting it to pass it over to him. He takes it from you, your fingers brushing with the lick of a flame. Between his fingers, he can make out faded engravings in the shape of angel wings. His thumb runs over the design, chest constricting with pain before he flicks the lighter open and holds the flame to the end of his cigarette. A long drag relaxes that pain, attempting and failing at calming his still racing heartbeat.

“Javier, I can explain—” you start, but he lifts his hand with the ashing smoke in it, shaking his head as he blows the fumes away from you.

“You don’t have to. I fully understand that while I’ve been completely focused, devoted, loyal to you, you’ve been off with another man. And couldn’t even have the balls to tell me. Every time I asked you out, and you said you were busy, was it him?” He paces for a few strides before leaning against the brick barrier of the stone patio, eyes boring into yours.

“No. No it wasn’t. Sometimes I really was just busy, with my friends or with school. But yeah, I can’t lie now and say that there weren’t times I made up an excuse or avoided telling you a reason I couldn’t see you…” Your weight shifts on your feet, the points of your stiletto heels scraping against the slate. “There—there’s a couple others besides him.”

Javier’s eyes widen, a crackling inhale of his cigarette pulling smoke into his lungs before he speaks again, “A couple? How many other people are you seeing?”

His voice has a sharp edge to it, patience wearing thin while jealousy and embarrassment root in his stomach. Your face cringes at the harshness of him speaking, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing hard.

“I have three clients besides you. Most of them have been for a few months longer than when I started seeing you…” Your throat clears and your shoulders roll forward, shrinking your usual confidence around him. “I thought you would have…I don’t know I thought you would have known what this was like for me. It’s my job, Javi. With those other guys, it’s still just my job and when I see them, it genuinely feels like work. But—”

He cuts you off again, kicking off the wall and starting his pacing again. “But what, angel? You just told me everything I needed to know. I’m a job to you, just work. That’s fine, we can draw that line here and now. I won’t do anything more for you unless you ask, treat me like everyone else. But forgive me for thinking there was something else there with us.”

Venom in his words hits you with a punch to your gut, this side of Javier one you haven’t been privy to. He’s cold where he normally holds his warmth toward you — his eyes, his dimple, the flex of his arms when he holds you, withdrawn from his normal attachment to you, always a hand kept on you when you’re together and a tab kept on you when you’re apart, stiff where he’s normally malleable, forming to your opposite, complimenting you completely.

This feels like the Javier you would have met a year ago in Colombia, guard up and emotions naught.

Anger blooms in his chest, feeling his insides turn a dark, dampened forest green with envy. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground, he stomps it before walking away from you, cold shoulder freezing you out while he heads back inside.

You were supposed to be his. His Bebita, his angel. He doesn’t own you, no, but he wanted to feel chosen by you. And all of this, the fact that this whole time there have been other people that you see the same as him, he knows he was never the only choice.

“Javier, stop—” you plead with him while your arm grabs his bicep, his step faltering for a moment before he recovers and removes his arm from your grip. In the low light from the warm, yellow lamps at all corners of the patio, he can see the glistening veil over your eyes. The corners of your mouth are downturned, the bottom lip jutting out in that normally irresistible pout.

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing. I—I think you should get a different ride home tonight.”

Without another breath in your direction, his heavy footsteps carry him inside, leaving you with a chill across your skin that is no match for the iciness of his behavior. A piece of your heart breaking like a crack in a glass, delicately, finely, but one more more and it shatters completely.

He said he was going to be there for you. Yet here he is, leaving you when you want him—need him the most.

Javier strides up to the bar, ordering a double whiskey neat. Once the crystal glass is set in front of him, it’s a blink of an eye before it’s set back down completely empty. His eyes comb the room, a glimpse of you getting caught by a professor, skin burning as jealousy boils inside of him.

Is he one of your clients? Or are you only friendly with him? Was the babysitting story with Professor Quinn bullshit? Were you with him at one point too?

Was anything real with you? Maybe he was naive to assume you were feeling all the same things he was, that this was anything more than a job. The line was blurred for him from the start, infatuation snowballing into something more — he’s in love with you.

And now he knows he’s just a job to you.

Doubt worms its way into his thoughts, anger blossoming at the thought that he was vulnerable, careful, open with you. For the first time in years, he’s let his guard down, fully falling into the comfort of your affections and completely forgetting the way you two were brought together, and now he’s getting burned. All he can remember is the few times before, long before Colombia, when he had the same feeling; tightness in his chest, shallow breathing, sweating at the nape of his neck.

Pressing his palm into his chest to find any type of relief, he feels the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes glue to you, watching your interactions and feeling suddenly desperate for fresh air. Clicks of his dress shoes echo when he finds himself in the marble-tiled lobby, stretching his lungs with every breath with a furrowed brow and thoughts racing in circles.

Muscle memory leads him to his car, folding over and supporting himself with arms outstretched against the hood. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breath, slowing himself down to deepen them. As he tries to clear his mind of all his doubtful thoughts, the image he conjures is of you, bare under the sheets the morning after that time in your apartment.

Breezy, dawn light coated the side of your face while the two of you talked in whispers, as if any louder would ruin the peace. At one thing he said, he can’t even remember now, you rolled onto your back, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears as he saw the beaming smile of yours.

That was when it solidified in his mind, his care and affection and desire rolling into the one word that encapsulates it all — love.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, smudging the image to nothing as he turns to face whoever is interrupting him.

Your eyes meet his, his brow returning to its furrowed state while his eyes round with softness. The sight of him, the emotion painted on his face, tears into your heart, but you tell yourself you have to stand your ground, to tell him all that you couldn’t when he rushed back inside.

“Javi—” your voice trails off when he interrupts you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Javi clips at you, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose when you scoff.

“Who died and made you king? You’re not the sole-decider, Javier, and after all the shit you just said to me, I think I deserve a second to speak to you,” your voice is steady despite the emotion crawling up your throat, tears burning in your waterline as you look at him in front of you, “It’s not fair for you to get angry at me. When I’m with those other men, I’m doing my job. It feels like work, and it is for me. I need the money, Javier, or else I’d have to drop out of school and still be responsible for my student loans. I’m doing what I was hired to do, the same thing you signed up for, so I don’t need the shit from you.”

Standing up straight from leaning against his car, he chuckles mockingly and shakes his head before countering, “You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

The tears burning at your waterline fill your view, blurring him standing in front of you until they start to fall in quick succession. Inside of your throat feels raw, swallowing hard and wiping the streams across your face. Mascara is definitely running down your cheeks, and your nose is sniffling while you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your sobs at bay.

He doesn’t deserve to see you so hurt. He doesn’t get to know how you really feel about him, not anymore. You made a mistake trusting him, crossing the line, and getting too attached.

Another swallow pops in your ears, mustering as much volume as you can without completely breaking, “I really thought you were different, but I guess not. Now I know what you really think about me.”

You shift your weight in your heels, looking at Javi once more, stoicism on high and the emotion you saw before completely void. Anger is strong across his face, with the brief reprieve of gentle care when a small sob slips out. Turning around to walk back inside and collect yourself, the sound of Javi’s rasp stopping you in your tracks.

Javier hears what he said played back in his head, the sight of your tears constricting his throat. With a dry mouth, he stutters out an attempt to back track, “Wait, wait—I didn’t—Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Bebita.”

You flinch, the name that normally sends warmth spreading across your chest now feeling like a dagger in your heart.

Facing him again, you cross your arms over your chest as your temper engulfs your emotion for a moment, spitting your response to Javier’s acrimony. “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eyes stinging as you look at him and watch his face fall from your words. “How did you mean it, Javi? Did you mean for it to have me begging for forgiveness, begging you to accept me even though I’m such used merchandise? Well, newsflash, Javier, but this was my job before you came around and screwed with my head. How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

He takes one step forward, and you take two back, shaking your head at his advance. His eyes round with softness again, tense brow shifting into a sorrowful one. Mumbling under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair before he looks at you. The need to win, to be right, to be justified in the end has him speaking before thinking yet again, “I didn’t know this is what I was getting into exactly. I thought you were with one person at a time, that all of your experiences were from the past, like, year not the past few weeks. I told you that I was only with you — you had plenty of opportunities to let me know about all the other jobs you’ve been doing. Were you telling them all the same shit? How many have you had over? Or stayed over at their place? Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you. Forget about this, about me, I’ll tell the company to cancel your payments and refund you. Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

Finally turning around again, Javier is silent as he watches you walk away, shoulders slumped forward with your arms crossed. Part of him is begging to go after you, to make it alright, to fix it for you. The other part is keeping his feet planted where he’s at, staunch in his anger toward you, toward the situation.

At the sound of the heavy building door shutting behind you, he runs his palm over his face before sighing deeply and getting into his car. He feels something in his pocket, fishing it out and confronted with the lighter you handed to him. His thumb runs over the engraving again, tracing the worn lines of the angel wings in the metal body of the Zippo.

He’s on his way down, falling from the heaven — the haven — you created for him into the familiar abyss of hell.

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voltronisanobsession · 23 days

Note

OH MY GOODNESS

What if teen!spider!reader was smarter than Miguel- like someone half his age is solving so many problems he couldn’t.

“Bro- you literally made a whole society but you calculated this as though it was a black hole and not a worm hole. How can you be this stupid?” And Miguel is just like 🧍‍♂️

Solving complex math equations and physics problems in minutes, creating multiple plans for missions and calculating the percentage of success for all of them.

But then they literally can’t hold a conversation (or eye contact) for the life of them- their social life is non-existent and they’re absolutely clueless when it comes to social cues (Miguel’s body language whenever he feels awkward when reader shows him how he messed up a problem or Hobie hinting at his not so big crush on reader) and like- the absolute awkwardness that happens when someone tries to compliment reader and they don’t know how to respond “it’s basic calculus, a kindergartner could do it”

Sorry if this is a ramble? I don’t know how to format these at all 😭

Intelligent but Socially Awkward Teen Spider!Reader

Don’t mind me doing a bunch of jumping around in this post, there’s just so much POTENTIAL with this spider!reader!!!

Hope you liked my thoughts on this

I LOVE THIS IDEA😍😍😍 I can already imagine Miguel sending them away the minute they start pointing out all of his mathematical mistakes lol

Teen!Reader is the epitome of ‘um actually☝️🤓’

I think this teen!reader is a product of ‘academic validation’, forced into a mind set where they need to be successful in all studies in school. Their parent(s) were probably extremely strict when it came to this, so it’s no surprise readers the way they are.

Of course despite this, being this blunt has its advantages. Like putting Miguel in his place! When reader had first join the society, they were for the most part quite reserved and quiet. They stuck to themselves while awkwardly maneuvering around social interactions.

So naturally , they were drawn to Miguel’s reclusive nature, which ultimately led to them growing more comfortable around him and those who worked close with him!

It all started with Miguel giving reader the task to go over some of his work to keep them occupied and away from him.

The faces reader would make while correcting all his errors definitely annoyed him. AND when they started pointing out all his other mistakes straight to his FACE. Mm mmm, all hell breaks loose for teen!reader.

OMG!! Imagine if this teen!reader was able to actually solve one of the most complex equations in his dimension, an equation that doesn’t even exist yet in their own world??

To say that they’re a mathematical genius is literally an understatement. They’re a MACHINE when it comes to physics and anything math related. Which is why they’re in charge, alongside Lyla, when creating and programming the spider society’s watches.

Even known as the genius behind the scene, reader cannot for the LIFE of them hold any conversations with the other spiders in the society💀

Compliments are disregarded because anyone can do it if they tried hard enough, reader claims. No, it’s not paranoia that’s making reader calculate the success rate of each past and future missions, they just enjoy doing it, they say in a monotone voice.

It’s honestly the only way Miguel’s able to get his revenge on reader for all the times they absolutely roasted the shit out of him.

Oh they want to finish this extremely complex math equation that they’re almost done with? Well too bad, they’re gonna have to finish it when they get back from that mission he assigned them.

Aw, are they creating a new quantum equation? That’s going to have to wait, Miguel’s sent them on a 5 person mission that’ll probably take a few hours to complete.

Are they hiding in the janitors closet with their math notebooks to avoid getting sent on their third mission of the week? Miguel’s already throwing them through the portal with Hobie.

They haven’t seen the light of day in hours, days even! Miguel claims they need to go out and socialize more instead of being a little goblin. (Super hypocritical reader mutters)

Missions are a complete pain because of the lack of communication happening on teen!readers end💔 and if that’s not the problem, than their extremely blunt and lack of social cues will be the end of them

They either don’t say enough or say just a little too much (a lot too much). It’s especially hard for them to find a balance😭

And I think that’s why Hobie would like them. They quite literally have no filter whatsoever, and yeah that may not be an amazing thing to not have, but he just enjoys the honesty of it in the end

He doesn’t take it to heart too when his advances go completely over readers head LMAO

This was such a fun thing to think about, pls send in more thoughts about this reader, they have so much potential to be a silly goober💔💔💔

#across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv x reader #miguel atsv #atsv concept #Spider-Man across the spider verse concept #Spider-Man across the spiderverse x reader #x reader

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personne-writes · 1 year

Text

Dad material

Part 6 - Reading level

(word count: 2k)

--------

Michelangelo hasn’t learnt to read the traditional way, what with being a mutant turtle growing up in the sewers and everything.

Of course, reading is something Splinter has taught them, along with many other basic skills. Not as soon as humans or Yokais do, maybe. And probably not as thoroughly as to understand the complex mechanisms of linguistics or to write academic papers. Still fast and good enough for them to be able to keep up with their cherished comics over their teenage years, though - and to never fall behind with charts and reports now.

Michelangelo wouldn’t say his reading skills are lacking in any way, but he’ll admit that when it comes to knowing what a normal kid’s learning curve should look like, he doesn’t really have any timeframe to rely on.

So, he doesn’t know if it’s normal for an eleven-years-old boy born in the midst of an apocalypse to be reading The Fellowship of the Ring.

He doesn’t know, but when he sees Casey Junior frowning down on the voluminous novel, he can’t help but think it feels a little much.

“Hey, Leo," he starts as he plops into a seat next to his brother in the conference room, "quick question. Do you know who the English language teacher is?”

“What?” Leonardo mutters, not looking up from the schematics he's studying.

Mikey drops his chin into his hands, elbows braced on the table. “You know, at the kids’ school. Who’s the teacher?”

“Why?” his brother asks absentmindedly.

“Because I think they might be asking kids to read stuff way above their level.”

Leonardo probably reaches the conclusion that he can't navigate this conversation while focusing on his plans, because he drops them on the table and turns to him. “Mikey. What are you talking about?”

Mikey shifts in his seat. "I just saw Junior reading this big ass book, and it bugged me because I can't remember him reading anything other than comics, right? So I asked him what it was, and it's the fucking Fellowship of the Ring. Can you believe that?"

Leo blinks. “How… is that a problem?”

“The Lord of the Rings, Leo!" Mikey huffs, throwing his hands in the air. "It’s like, a trillion pages long, and it’s so boring at first, what were they even thinking? I tried to read it and couldn’t make it past page 50, and by then I was fifteen and I was a total fan of the movies already -"

"Casey's seen the movies, too," Leo informs him, expression slightly confused.

Mikey gives a dramatic sigh.

"My point is, starting off with this? At eleven?? That’s just gonna discourage the kids. Teaching is all about giving them the will to read. What twisted, sadistic teacher would pick the freaking Lord of the Rings as a child's first real book?"

Leonardo blinks at him again.

And then again.

The absence of an answer is telling Mikey all he needs to know half a second before Leo's face splits up with a big, doofus smile.

"I'm the one who gave him the book," he states, not sounding one bit sorry.

Michelangelo stares at him, speechless, and that’s not something that happens often.

Leonardo gives a quiet laugh. "As much as I find your lecture captivating, little brother, it's not that bad," he assures, putting his hands up like a peace offering. "The kid's clever, I'm sure he won't let himself be intimidated by a simple book. Besides, it's not like he has to read it, or anything - well, I’m glad that he does, but - Mike, you good, hermano?"

Michelangelo tries to get a grip. It’s only half a success. “You could make him disgusted about reading forever,” he accuses.

Leonardo rolls his eyes. “Come on, give me some credit. Like I said, I'm not forcing him to do anything. I won’t pressure him into reading something he doesn’t like. You know me, right?"

That is a valid argument, Mikey has to admit. He still doesn’t feel too comfortable with taking that risk, though. “Hmm.”

“Aw, don’t make that face,” Leonardo cheers him up, grabbing his shoulder affectuously. “Give it some time, okay? Let him try. And if you still feel like it’s a bad idea in, what, a week? Then we’ll talk about it.”

Ah, making a deal without actually promising anything that might make him a disservice. Such a classic Leon move.

Michelangelo sighs and nods. What choice does he have, either way?

--------

It doesn't take a week for Michelangelo to understand he has lost this battle.

There are multiple signs throughout the next few days - Junior hiding in a corner to read peacefully more often than not, body relaxed, expression focused; Junior dozing off when bored, gaze wandering around like he sees things with new eyes; Junior humming the Lord of the Rings movies' theme songs here and there when doing chores. Could fool anybody else, but Mikey knows what having an hyperfixation looks like.

He's so happy for the kid.

That's something he himself hasn't felt in a very long time, the thrill of discovering a story so captivating it takes you away from your day to day life, the delight of forgetting your worries and troubles into something bigger, smoother, more coherently crafted than reality. It's a comforting feeling, and he's happy Junior is getting the chance to experience it, even with all this chaos he is growing up in - even more so.

"Well, well, well, would you look at that," Leonardo starts, coming to a stop next to Michelangelo as he's watching Junior animatedly explain some piece of lore to a poor kid who doesn't look all that interested. "Seems like it's Casey who's doing the traumatizing, after all."

Mikey snorts. "Yeah, alright, that's a win for you."

"What was that? Sorry, Mikey, I don't speak loser," Leo pushes.

Mikey elbows him goodnaturedly. "Hey, I'm saying you're right, that's like, the only thing you'd understand no matter the language."

"Damn right!" Leo smirks, and leaves it at that. Mikey should probably be surprised he isn't bragging about it more, but the way his brother looks at Casey Junior tells him his mind isn't completely focused on the conversation.

He gets it. If he's being honest with himself, Mikey knows he sometimes has that look, too.

He glances back and forth between Casey Junior still infodumping on his poor friend, and Leonardo proudly watching over his protégé. The positive energy radiating from them is enough that he resolves to bring Junior new books, too, each time he has the opportunity.

And so he does for the next few weeks.

Between the novels Leonardo brings back from scouting missions and the books Michelangelo manages to get from people owing him favors, Casey Junior slowly but surely builds his own personal library, safely stored in a carton under his bed.

The kid reads about anything they can find. He beams each time he receives something new, and by the time they get to ask him about the latest addition to the collection, he's already read it two times at least.

So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that one day, Casey Senior comes for their throats.

“BLUE TURTLE!”

Michelangelo and Leonardo are in the middle of the morning report with a few scouts. The authority in Cassandra’s voice has Leonardo’s body go still in a split second.

Mikey raises a brow at him. “I was pretty sure she knew your actual name by now.”

“She only calls me that when she’s pissed,” Leo explains, eyes wide and panicked.

“HAS ANYONE SEEN THE BLUE ONE?” Cassandra’s voice shouts again, and this time, Leonardo springs into motion.

“Meeting adjourned!” he yelps to three very baffled scouting agents before clutching at the collar of Mikey’s cape. “Mike, hermano, you have to hide me -”

“You’re both there! Good.”

Cassandra is standing in the doorway of the briefing room and Michelangelo doesn’t even have to squint to notice the menacing aura that surrounds her.

She is furious.

“Heyyy, Cassie!” his brother tries in his cheesiest voice, an overcompensation for the nervousness tightening his whole body. “How’re we doing today, my gal? You look fabulous! Something new with your hair?”

Cassandra isn’t having his nonsense, and she makes it clear by stomping towards them with steps so heavy Mikey instinctively checks the concrete floor for footprints.

He doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on, but it isn’t good.

His mystic powers slowly lift him up into the air.

“Oh, no, neither of you is escaping this,” Cassandra chuckles, low and dark, as she grabs both Mikey’s cloak and Leo’s scarf. Michelangelo is pretty sure she would’ve seized them by the ears, if they’d had any.

By the corner of his eyes, he sees the three scouts leave the room as discreetly as they can.

“Escaping what?” he asks with an apprehensive smile, his toes a few inches above the ground.

“What have you done to my son?”

Leo and Mikey exchange a bewildered look.

“Junior?” Leo immediately presses. “What’s the matter with him?”

“The matter is he’s becoming a nerd!” Cassandra snaps, and Michelangelo flinches. Ah. That was bound to happen, at some point.

“Are you talking about the books?” he asks as gently as he can. “Because if so, I really don’t see how -”

“He isn’t helping with chores anymore!” Casey Senior presses on, her glare sharp enough to make him go quiet. “He’s running off every time he can, hiding out of my sight more often than not, and when he does come out of whatever rabbit hole he’s spent his day into, he speaks about things I don’t know shit about.” Leonardo tries to take a step back, but she just holds onto his scarf tighter. “What. Have you. Done. To my. Son?”

Leonardo hisses, his scarf apparently pressing a little too much into his throat for comfort. “Casey,” he pleads, voice just a little hoarse, “I swear we mean well -”

“Kids gotta be kids, you know?” Mikey advocates. “You were a Lou Jitsu fan when we were teens, remember?”

“Of course I remember!” Cassandra shouts, but she is distracted enough to let go of them, and they both keep their distance, just in case she starts acting aggressive again.

“There you go, then!” Mikey pushes, voice warm and soothing. “Every teenager needs something to keep the imagination busy. Don’t you think Junior needs it even more than we did when we were his age?”

Cassandra sighs, her shoulders slumping. She presses her fingers to her temples. “I know,” she says tiredly, “but I’m under the impression that nothing else interests him anymore. He doesn’t sound as excited about training as he did, and I’m getting worried about his sleep schedule.”

Something drops in Mikey’s stomach, and by the look on his brother’s face, he understands that he doesn’t like what he’s hearing, either. “Oh,” Leonardo says cautiously. “Well, no need to fret about his training, because he’s going as hard at it as he always has, but, uh…”

“But we could talk to him about not reading too late at night,” Mikey provides.

“Yeah. That.”

With a half-smile, Casey Senior looks back up at them. “Mhm. I guess that would work better coming from you than it does coming from me.”

Leonardo huffs a laugh. “Cool uncles’ privilege, am I right?”

“It’s just a phase, you know,” Mikey adds. “He probably won’t be that much into reading for very long.”

“I wouldn’t bet food on that,” Cassandra grimaces, but there isn’t any more bite to it. “This kid is stubborn as hell.”

“Oh, jeez, wonder where that - you know what? It’s so obvious I don’t think I need to say it." Leonardo eyerolls at her with a smile before getting serious again. “I’m sorry, Cassie. For getting you worried.”

“That much is obvious, too, blue one,” Cassandra says as she bumps her fist into his good shoulder. “No big deal. I mean it. I’m glad you guys get along with him so well.”

She glances back and forth between them, and a rare, soft expression washes over her features.

“He really loves you. Both of you.”

“Awww!” Michelangelo can’t help himself: he brings Cassandra and Leonardo into the tightest of hugs before they can register it. Leo protests a little, Casey protests a lot, but neither actually disengages, and that’s good enough for him.

They don’t stay like this for long, though; Casey is quick to excuse herself and go back to whatever she was doing, Leo straightens himself up and calls the scouts back, and the day starts over again as if nothing had happened at all.

Well, not exactly, Mikey corrects himself as he watches his brother resume the morning report where they had left it. There is a glint in his eyes now, an energy in his movements, an assurance in his voice that wasn’t quite there before. It’s a little amusing to him that the scout agents seem to notice, too.

It’s a little funny, getting to witness the way Leonardo’s serious leader image in the Resistance is slowly being tinted by his mushy side.

If anything, Michelangelo thinks it’s only doing him good.

How long will it take before Leo realizes he’s acting like a proud dad, though?

--------

Dad Material is a collab with @leosmasktails 💙

Beginning - Previous - Next

Sooo what started as Tails doing a comic where Casey Jr bitches about the eagles in the Return of the King movie is now a collab about Leonardo becoming a surrogate father figure and getting lots of Dad Feels. Life is crazy y'all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Comics are from @leosmasktails, ficlets are from me, and there's more on the way, lads, so stay tuned!

Oversight: 1 (comic) - 2 (comic & ficlet) - 3 (comic) - 4 (comic) - 5 (comic) - 6 (you're here) - 7 (next)

#dad material #collab #writing #leosmasktails #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise of the tmnt

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idkanametoputhere · 1 year

Text

Deadlines

riddle × overworked!prefect

pronouns: they/them

type: angst

warnings: the reader is literally having a mental breakdown bc of academic stuff (damn they just like me for real)

masterlist<3

let's play a game, shall we? u just gotta answer the question with one of the possible answers below. easy enough, now let's see:

what do you think happens when you put an over-achieving, ex-gifted kid who needs academic validation in a world that they know something about? do they:

a) handle it rationally

b) give up

or c) overwork themselves to the point of neglecting their mental health in order to try and get good grades

if you guessed "c" then ding ding ding! congratulations! you were correct

you see, our beloved ramshackle prefect just so happened to be a gifted kid growing up. they grew up as the kid teachers wanted to have in their class. the kid who easily understood all the class material. the kid who never even got close to failing a test or an exam

they were an honors student in every way possible

which is why being transferred to a new world, completely different from theirs was less than ideal for them

a new world, new lessons, new teachers, new students, new everything. it was like a punch in the gut for them

they spent day in and day out with their nose in a school textbook, trying to understand the material, trying to be at the top of their class, trying to get that close-to-perfect grade on their paper

but it was impossible

you see, being in a new world really messes one up, everything they thought they knew was turned upside down

it was weird, and it sucked for them

but it's not all bad, you know, they made some friends here

like riddle rosehearts for example

with whom they got really close

who also happened to be very interested in their test results..

and just so happened to be dissatisfied with his friend's results..?

uh oh

"prefect I just believe that you could do better. I am aware of how clever you are, but I don't think you are trying enough for it to be shown"

two periods, they only needed around 5 seconds to leave one's mouth and reach the other's ears

but it was enough

oh trust me, it was enough

that was all the prefect needed for their self esteem to crumble. they felt like the earth had been lost from underneath their legs. the one thing they never wanted to hear was told to them , not only by someone they admired, but by a friend

and trust me, it was what broke the camel's back. it was all that was needed

now let's take a look at our prefect nowadays, shall we?

the prefect was in the library, in a more secluded part of it where almost no one went. there were textbooks and notebooks spread on the table in front if them, while others were laying on the floor and on some chairs next to them

in storms the housewarden of heartsylabyul, who was looking for his friend after they missed yet another unbirthday party

"prefect you are still here?" said riddle as he saw the hunched prefect. they didn't even look up at him when answering with a simple humm, a small way of saying "yeah"

"you should take a break. studying is very important, but you shouldn't overdo it" said riddle (you know, like a hypocrite, as if he hasn't been doing the same thing from the prime age of five)

"no no yeah, I just gotta finish this paper and then do a quick essay on mr trein's latest subject, I'll be done by curfew time, I promise"

"prefect, I really do think you should take a break"

"riddle it's fine" said the prefect and you could feel the annoyance starting to appear

"prefect" he replied coldly, it was more like a warning to be honest. they didn't reply, leaving him with only one option, take their books

"hey! what are you doing? give it back!" said the prefect, finally looking up to him. he could see the redness in their eyes and the dark circles under them, both signs of their sleepless nights, and they had more acne on their face, a zign of their anxiety

"prefect you need to take a break"

"no! give it back"

"I'm sorry prefect but it is better for you"

"give it back!" they yelled, slamming the table with the hand that was once peacefully rating on it, as the first tear started to roll down their cheek

"prefect..?" asked riddle in a low voice, slowly getting the book closer to its owner, who was now full on crying

"please give it back" they said quietly, taking shaky and loud breaths. "please"

the desperation in their voice was almost enough to let the so called "red rose tyrant" give the book to them, but he didnt

"prefect are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concerned as he slowly brought out his hand to put it on the prefect's shoulder. trey did that to him whenever he was crying, it brought him comfort. the prefect though, flinched, making him retreat

"I need the books" they started saying, rubbing their nose with one of their sleeves. "this is due to tomorrow, I still have ten more assignments to do and I can't understand what the fuck we do in crewel's class!" they said quickly, voice speeding up from how much they wanted to say

"and I don't understand even half of it! what are all these plants? we dont have all this back home!" they said, throwing their head back as they were speaking

"and, and it's my fault for not saying that I can't understand the material, but I'm scared!" they said. they were very lucky that the library was almost empty at this hour

"scared?" repeated riddle. "scared! I'll disappoint all the teachers! I'm supposed to be smart, I'm supposed to understand stuff like this very easily" they said, slapping their thigh while doing so, a bad habit of theirs that they had when they were very anxious

"and they all think I'm stupid!" they said, more tears falling down their face. this saying left riddle shocked. why would they think that? they were almost a genius from his prespective

"no you're not" he said. if you couldn't tell comforting isn't really his thing. "yeas I am. I get stuck in the simplest of exercises, I can't understand what I'm reading and I'm struggling to get even the most basic things!" they said

seeing his friend be so anxious was very sad for riddle, but seeing them cry so hard that they could barely breath because of something as simple as two or three numbers on a paper was what broke his heart

and the worst part?

he couldn't do anything to help them

they were drowning right in front of him, and he couldn't save them

the only thing he coukd do is watch them as they were crying and rambling about their stressful deadlines

idk might do a part two if I need comfort or if my next mental breakdown is soon enough

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talenlee · 7 days

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Story Pile: Lords and Ladies

From time to time I talk about Discworld books, and I will usually say that there’s no reading order. I operate on the assumption that readers have a degree of object permanence, that they are capable of telling if a story happens before or after sometihng and that if you find a story of a character that includes a former drunk in one book, and then find a story of a drunk in another book, you will be able to put the sequence of events in a meaningful order without being overwhelmed by the challenge of the book. The Discworld books are contained stories for dedicated readers capable of managing the complexities of understanding that I could reach when I was twelve years old and in a cult, I do not doubt any adult curious about them will do fine without an authoritive reading list to ensure they do not miss any of the lore.

But.

Ugh I hate that.

But but but but. But! There is a single Discworld Book that I know of (now) which opens with an author’s note that you need to be at least a little bit aware of previous stories in order to appreciate the events of this book. And then it tells you those events.

If I did this more often, I imagine I’d introduce these things by hey, let me tell you about my favourite Discworld book. But let’s do that anyway. Don’t worry, no major spoilers, just a sort of vague gesturing at the plot that’s already covered by the book jacket.

Lords and Ladies is a story of the Discworld, set in the kingdom of Lancre, about the characters of the Witches; Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and Magrat. Granny is a stern, hawkish woman who has all the makings of a grand and powerful force, a queen in waiting, and too obstinate and selfcentered to ever dare to let that happen. Nanny Ogg is like if that one raunchy grandma stereotype was scrutinised down to the ground, and Magrat is what a lot of people in the 90s really were when they imagined themselves to be ‘wytches.’ This character dynamic, in addition to fulfilling the classic Sonic/Shadow/Tails dialectic, also presents the reader with an opportunity for a rare thing in the Discworld in that it’s a very big story set in a very small place.

Lancre is nowhere. Lancre is a British Midlands vision of a Fantasy Kingdom That’s A Bit Like The British Midlands. It is mountainous and hilly as conceived by a country with literally no mountains on it, so they have the prevalence of a little kid’s drawing of a map. Its castle teeters, its people are all rural workers with probably no flat land to grow crops on and they drink a foul alcohol that is made out of apples.

Well, mostly apples.

Lancre is also ground zero for the invasion of a parasitic universe, a dimension that does not have the ability to ‘properly’ sustain itself, and from which flood its own native dominant species, a predatory humanoid perfectly suited to the consumption of Lancre’s own dominant species. There’s a repeated theme in Pratchett’s work of humans as entities in an ecosystem – it was something he played with in Reaper Man with the Maul. Now, seeing the presence of a multi-layer shopping body that displaced all local businesses in the name of consolidation and rent-seeking as some sort of parasitic creature that needed to be addressed through the presence of a violent, repelleing antibody could be seen as a suggestion of the validity of anticapitalist terrorism,

The story of Lords And Ladies is in the tradition of the Discworld narrative one where the author picks up on an existing idea from another fantasy convention and decides to grapple with it in the specific idiom of the Discworld. This requires a deeply aware consideration of the fantasy genre as a whole and the storytelling tropes that underpin that genre. In Reaper Man the idea of the cosmic meaning of a figure of death was the centerpiece. In Thud there’s a serious consideration of intractable fantasy grudges between dwarves and trolls. In Unseen Academicals, it’s Orcs.

Lords and Ladies is the Discworld take on elves, which at the time I read it, was a real shock to imagine that someone might not like elves. After all, Elves are like humans but cool and exotic, right? Why would an author not use elves as a chance to show something cool and a different, uh, uh, do I have an alternative to exotic, guess I don’t, an exotic other culture!

It’s truly embarrassing to consider with the benefit of hindsight, how much ‘elf culture’ is just ‘what white guys think even whiter guys would be like.’

I don’t really get paganism. Not properly. I like paganism; I like the invocation of a time before Christianity, a reminder that cultures do not die, they are killed, and that before my identity was wallpapered over by three layers of colonial dictation, there is a line that reaches from who I am back to people who would make up stories about horse skulls that sing cruel poems, and that that is more real to me than the political conveniences of a Roman emperor. I find it in the edges of things; of characters who evoke reminders that there were things before Christ’s God, and that there were things better than America’s Christ.

Lords and Ladies is some fantastically pagan stuff.

If you’ve not read the book (and I recommend it, I like it a lot), the cover sometimes gives away one major event of the book, showing a character standing before a slumbering, slouched, enormous humanoid form with antlers. In the ending of Narnia books, I remembered a description of a giant, of something enormous, standing over the waters before finally settling down into sleeping, that when the great book of Narnia closed, it closed on a frozen sea with someone sleeping inside it. It stands to reason in my mind that there is a shape of something giant in the historical memory. That there is something that we know, at the end of days, there will be there, standing on the horizon, as we watch our last days end.

I don’t think there will be but I think it’s real cool to use it as a visual metaphor for your time is over. Something about the wrongness of the scale, of looking up at the sun and seeing it blink, that kind of thing.

In Lords and Ladies, the witches explore these things. Why are there standing stones. What are they for. How do they work. Why should they work that way? Do you need to understand what it is to work for them to work? Are old practices inherently wrong? Are they weaker for us trying to understand them?

All told in the confrontation between a thing that sleeps, until it doesn’t have to any more.

I think Lords and Ladies has one of my favourite examples of weaponised pronouns in a story. Every elf in the narrative outside the King and Queen are referred to not as he or she or they, but instead as it. The Elves are not people with personhood as we understand it and they would not see you or me as people with personhood either. They do not consider us as entities and do not see our individuality as a thing to explain or explore – just as much as they do not consider their own individuality as meaningful to us.

There is no misgendering an elf, because an elf is not a thing that has gender or a social identity. Elves are stories. Elves are cruel and dark stories, stories about things that are Just So and rituals performed out of fear of consequences that are made up until they are very much very real.

Lords and Ladies is one of my favourite Discworld books because of how much of it is about righteous violence agianst a relentless, abusive invader. There is no ‘ah, but we have won, so we need to be the bigger and more morally appropriate people’ here. This is a story where an invading queen gets punched in the face and axed in the gut. In a very pure way, this is a story about what happens when a dehumanising colonial force arrives to consume your past and future for its own individual enrichment and what it’s worth doing to protect yourself from it, about what violence in even the meekest it incurs.

Even the blind and meek and voiceless have gods.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Discworld #Media #Story Pile

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homegrown-blorbo-garden · 1 year

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Since people are already sending propoganda, here are some quotes Aya has said(and will say in later chapters) out of context. TW: theres a quote where she goes into detail about her mental health, please be warned if you find that triggering.

"I showered....?"

"Dont be a dick!"

"Whats your favorite scary movie?"

"Hes a 13 year old boy, how the hell can he have cellulitis?"

''Ugggghhhh....SEE?! THANKS TO YOU I NOW SOUND LIKE KELSEY!''

"so..what do you wanna be when you grow up?"

''A fairy princess."

"Im more of a Bratz girl"

"If your parents find out about this..."

"Yep, you could've atleast got me out of the bag before bringing me to the castle"

"thats the blondest thing i've ever heard."

"Wha- AHHH! ITS A BUCKET!!"

"OH HELL NO! Shell act weirder around me than how Max did when they heard Airplane Veiw for the first time!"

"What mascara do you use??"

"Essence."

"Well...i have post traumatic stress disorder, body image and abandoment issues, orthorexia, fear of social, familial, academic and romantic rejection, need constant repeated validations to starve off my emptiness and insecurity, oh and i also have extremely vivid night terrors that cause me to scream cathartically in the middle of the night, which is why i've been perscribed 3 different sleeping pills over the span of a year, i also have depression, anxiety, OCD, poor social interaction and communication skills and i constantly feel like i have lost all purpose in life because i have no way to continue my bloodline. if it wasnt for Max, Tina and my therapist the only friends i'd have are online."

"Yeah its called friendship with benefits."

'''No...no its not...''

"Yes this puta is my classmate."

"I dont know. It just happened, theres just something special about you...besides all those other things that are special about you."

"Lech tizdayen"

"Nope. Tina doesnt allow us to touch her hair.''

"Wow, your really artistic!"

"Yesterday my mom told me im autistic."

"So..i should push Julian down the stairs?"

"Oh bestie thats horrible, this is the best time for you to be britophobic, NOW GO SAY FUCK THE BRITISH! SAY IT!"

"Wait! If Nico not into Percy, who are we supposed to ship him with now?!"

"Will Solace?"

"No. Purim. Its like halloween but with more clowns."

"You are literally the Usui to my Misaki right now..."

"Well, theres this camp called True Directions that can help you. they they can even cure jews like you!"

"Tanya, thats the camp from the movie But Im A Cheerleader."

"Good to hear, you've been blogging so much i got worried"

"Y'know..you kinda look like america from hetalia"

'Ugh! Maybe i should watch some markiplier'

these are excellent

#propaganda

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vitos-ordination-song · 11 months

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Being a Le Guin expert means constantly being annoyed at people’s takes on her, people who just don’t get it or people who haven’t read enough of her writing to know what she was about. Particularly when it comes to feminist controversies with her work, I’m constantly banging my head against the wall.

First you get men getting up at arms at any sign of potential feminism. Just makes ‘em defensive. One academic lecturer said he didn’t like Tehanu because it was “preachy” (no follow up). I listened to three different podcast bros say the misogyny in The Dispossessed was exaggerated. This is all from the last 10 years of course, whereas Le Guin was born in 1929. I promise you that a concept like “women are natural inferiors to men” is not something she made up but in fact possibly something she heard stated verbatim growing up. (I was born in 1997, and I don’t think I’m from a representative population since I was raised in a conservative evangelical community, but I also heard such things stated in childhood.) I wish I lived in these mens’ worlds where portraying such attitudes in fiction is “going a bit far, even as social commentary.” Equally I’ve seen men get hot around the collar when there’s “bad guy” males. Le Guin tended to steer clear of simple villains, but in Tehanu and a couple other of her works, there are truly sadistic men, at times sexual threats. Any men fragile enough to get upset by that are sad to me, especially because Le Guin also wrote a female pedophile in one of her novels and never shied away from “bad guy” women. There’s a kind of disbelief I see from people (often men but not just them) when it comes to Tehanu, like it’s unbelievable that there could be such obsessive abusive misogynists. Again. Welcome to the real world. This shit happens.

The author Kim Stanley Robinson said he disliked the later Earthsea books for being too didactic on feminism. I somewhat get what he means and I don’t think he’s a misogynist himself. I also agree that Le Guin was bullied into being defensive of her feminism; she was attacked by other women for being a married with kids, which is just pathetic behavior. It made her a bit edgy for a while, and then she doubled her efforts to be woman-centered. This had the occasional consequence of didacticism, there’s a couple moments in her later writing where I go, “okay, I get the point,” but her points are never bad. Where I disagree with Robinson is in whether she actually rectified wrongs in her writing. Frankly some of her early works read as male chauvinist, she later stated she was a woman pretending to be a man simply because she thought that’s how a writer should be. In many cases her feminist turn was much needed, though it’s true that even her early work is more complex on gender issues than people give it credit for.

Then there’s people who read a single of her works and write her off as a gender essentialist. It’s really frustrating because it’s like people aren’t able to engage with a text except for how much it validates or invalidates them personally. People who’re “against the gender binary” will see a work which depicts a realistic, materially based gendered social system and take issue with it just on the principal that people in the story have assumptions about men and women. What exactly is wrong with writing a story that way? It’s not as if Le Guin herself believed in fixed gender characteristics. It makes me think of a post I saw a while back that was like, you can’t be free to experiment with gender until you acknowledge how we are enslaved by our biology. Of course our biology isn’t simple either, but the point is, we can be pro-trans, all for gender non-conformity, questioning of even the existence of gender, without denying that gender as a concept was borne out of biological sex, and that historically sex/gender have taken on many meanings and significances. Authors are not required to write disclaimers explaining themselves, and honestly it’s an insult to the nuances of Le Guin’s writing to pretend that she was some kind of close-minded old-school feminist.

Finally there’s the dumbasses who will complain about the lack of “girl power” in her novels. I see this sort of thing a lot actually, not just when it comes to Le Guin. When I was a little girl, I always wanted stories about awesome women who could save themselves/others, since I had previously been psychologically disempowered through passive narratives about women. But I’m an adult now so I like stories that are a bit more mature. The Earthsea books, when they begin to focus on women’s narratives, don’t just become “women act like men and it’s awesome.” It’s not about women being wizards or anything like that, though there’s examples of literal empowerment. It’s about women’s values destabilizing the world of men and a balancing of the previously unbalanced gendered social system, which was very much in need of doing and aligns with the themes of the series. I want to slap people who say Tenar “doesn’t get to do anything” and “is helpless” in Tehanu, as if she isn’t one of the strongest and most dignified characters Le Guin ever wrote. It’s an entire novel of her caring for a child everyone else fears, fending off a world which is hostile to her, and maintaining her wits when malicious forces are trying to steal them from her. But I guess since she didn’t like, cast a fireball, it’s not feminist enough. It’s also not a “feminist hot take” to shit on the entire concept of being a mother and wife, keeping the household. You know how that’s a lot of what women have done throughout history? I mean, in no way does Le Guin discount how marriage/motherhood can be a cage for women, but is it really anti-feminist to say that there’s something to respect in traditional women’s work? The novel also acknowledges the value of both “respectable” women (wives and mothers) and “non-respectable” women (witches who never marry and often contribute a great deal to their community despite being marginalized). At this point I’m just ranting about Tehanu, but it’s not only my favorite Le Guin but probably my favorite novel of all time and it drives me wild how much people misinterpret it.

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rolling-restart · 1 year

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Oh boy, I love Desecration…

Seeing George in a semi-permanent state of confusion is bone-chilling, it makes me wonder what will happen when the season starts and he needs to be more alert. And despite everything, he's so funny criticizing Toto's skills as a nurse.

The bruising on George’s face from the ‘accident’ had faded a while ago. Nevertheless, George ended up with a new one when Toto got too excited while fucking him and slammed his face to the headboard.

The wording is so brutal, wow. Slammed his face to the headboard?! I can only imagine poor George being drowsy and dissociating as usual, and feeling the impact.

George is the doll Toto wanted, he can dress him up and will do whatever Toto wants, but as we have discussed before, I wonder how much time is left before Toto grows frustrated by that because he will never get what he longs for.

Now sweet Micki (AAAH), my question is: what are Toto's intentions with him? Is he looking for the total satisfaction he won't find manipulating George? Does he want to control (or abuse) Mick out of compulsiveness? Does he want to make George feel uneasy and replaceable? Mick seems a lot more centered and protected than George but he also has a level of nervousness and submissiveness that Toto likes. Toto is crazy, so I don't know what to expect from him anymore. I know the reasons will reveal themselves when needed.

Also: Mick coming back with the dressing gown. GOD. I love that detail.

When they went back to the dining room, Toto immediately started a conversation with one of the people from the HR team.

How ironic.

The chapter is so good <33, and the idea of a team bonding experience was pretty smart. And I love Bono!!! I didn't know I needed him until I read him!

Regarding the last asks, don't worry! You can reply at your own rhythm!!

-🌻

Oh dear, your comments are as delicious as ever!!

You caught me while I was making academic research about the condition that I am planning to write about regarding the actual physical effect of this treatment. I was doing my homework and no, it doesn't look good for our poor Georgie.

I mean, Toto's treatment is hopefully no surprise at this point because if we cannot all easily see him do that, I am doing something wrong as a writer! Thankfully, Georgie is too numb for everything and hopefully isn't suffering as much. For now.

I feel like Toto is temporarily happy with George but this cannot last forever and Toto will be bored at some point... Only god knows what he will decide to do.

Your questions are all so valid and I want to cite my character study of Toto to explain what he is planning with Mick. Obviously, he is a much better-suited victim than George in Toto's perception, and maybe even a bigger prize than Nico. Will it be as easy? I don't believe so. Will it be utterly terrifying and mind-breaking? Have no doubt! Seb is already suspicious but everyone will have to suffer more before we can start solving this mess.

For now, Mick is utterly confused, a bit scared as well as charmed and I am very intrigued to see the spillover of this on Seb and George. Additionally, honeymoons can't last forever and our little innocent, meek Mick is in danger!

I am planning to write a bit more about Bono when appropriate because I love him and he is so hot!

Thank you so much for your patience and for taking the time to drop a delicious comment! Much appreciated!

#🌻#desecration: gr/tw fic #nsfw.#answered asks

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marylandlifecoaching · 8 months

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Unaffected

A lot of people are doing some outrageous things on social media. We built a society that say's "Look at me". All for the power of the Like, Share, and hopes of going viral. I get it. Having a bad day? Post for immediate validation. Find an ally. But what happens when someone throws shade? Makes a bad day worse.

Social media wasn't a thing when I was growing up. Validation came from a small group of friends and what I did in school, both academically and with sports. People knew the "real" me. We didn't get to create a world of pictures, memes and video's through filters. It's like we were living in black and white. And now as I dance though social media, I can see there are advantages to both. The flip side of that coin, a dark side. A very dark side. The rate of cyber bullying, eating disorders and suicide continues to climb. It is hard to watch the toll that social media can take on people.

When I was growing up during the 60's, 70's and 80's, I didn't have to worry about getting backlash from something I posted, by some dude in his underwear, sitting in his mothers basement. Now a days, most of us, if not all, have had to contend with a troll or two. And if you tap into your emotional intelligence, you will not take the bait and go down that rabbit hole. Even better, you are so secure in yourself that you are unaffected.

Ah....unaffected. Social media can be cool. But do you know what feels better than getting likes on social media? Being authentically who you are. Not needing validation from unknowns. Of course it feels good. I've gone viral once or twice. But those next couple of post that didn't get the same reaction or attention, didn't affect me one way or another. My validation comes from being the kind of man I am. And trust me, while most dig what I am putting out, I am definitely not everyone's cup of tea. But they can go fuck themselves. Because I drink coffee. J/K...it's an old joke. No, but really. Dig me or not. I sleep the same at night.

Unaffected is a powerful place to be. Everything that you desire, love, acceptance, support all reside in you. You don't need to continue to go bigger to attract a bigger audience. Some social media platforms I am killing it. Others, flatline... And yet, here I am being true to my own spirit, my own voice. Now I'm not saying going bigger is wrong. I am saying be careful. Don't lose yourself trying to become what you think others would like. Be unaffected. And remember. You drink coffee....Now that was funny.

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talesofhamsi · 1 year

Text

Black and White Thoughts

My entire life has been black and white for me. I either succeed incredibly, or I fail miserably. There have been instances where I viewed my life from an "all or nothing" perspective. I never really gave myself the space to feel the grey in between. And when I say "all or nothing", I don't mean that it only limits itself to having an ideal body, an ideal relationship, an ideal work-life balance or ideal academic standing. In addition, there were other conundrums to deal with. I would not want to lie to someone when they asked me “How are you?” I would paint my entire life as it is, to a complete stranger for 15 minutes. I wanted to give them the truth of what’s going on. I always thought about it, minutes later. I felt like I had overshared in a conversation. But it never really was oversharing. It was a black and white way of expressing how I felt. I would never stop myself from sharing every detail of my life with my parents. I led my mom on about information about certain things, which I knew would cause a rift in our opinions and perspective. My friend once asked me, “You know the way you and your parents see the world is entirely different. How do you expect them to react or see the world in the same way you did? What happened to privacy? Do you think it’s really only for your friends?” It struck me like lightning. Why is privacy limited to close friends and family members? Why can’t it be applied universally?

Well, the Assertive Bill of Rights says that Every individual has a right to exercise privacy without giving reasons or excuses. It is funny how I wasn’t made aware of it until someone spoke sense to me. I am sure growing up I was never given the right to exercise and the opportunity to feel this way. Adulting just feels like I’m doing the wrong thing, even though I’m doing everything right to support myself and my mental health. There have been times where I have questioned my opinion of a situation. I believe this is because I have been conditioned to fit into other people's opinions of who, what, and how I should view the world. There will be times where I even require external validation to make sure all my choices are “right”. It was always valid for me to exercise my choices. There is no right or wrong. We only have different outcomes. It also blinds me from seeing the grey in people. And truth be told, it is toxic to a certain extent. It means recognizing a person needs privacy when they do not feel comfortable sharing what happened in their day, no matter how close they might be to me. A friend not being there for me during a tough time doesn’t make them an " unreliable " friend. Maybe they were having a bad day too. A friend not being able to fill my cup when their own cup is empty is a sign that they need space. It also implies that resting is productive. We don’t always have to chase the next big thing in life.

This also means accepting that not everything is about me. And that is okay.

Trust the process was a quote I never really understood. But now I know it means living in between and trusting that things will unfold as you live through them (without chasing them or chasing the extremes). People are always changing, trying and growing into more complex evolving forms. It is fascinating when the most basic human tendencies are invalidated as children, as an adult, it made me question my beliefs and choices, even though I’ve tackled the most traumatic life-altering experiences with emotional intelligence and maturity. Unlearning, and learning is the most uncomfortable position I've been in. It means reprogramming my mind to believe what I am doing is best for me, even when it doesn’t feel that way. But growth doesn't take place in a cosy, warm environment. Regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you feel, if it means standing up for your beliefs, it's worth everything.

#inner child #innerpower #healing #selflove #childhood #mental health #emotional health #innerstrength #difficult parents #innerbeing #anxiety #depression #self healing #heartbreak

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the-things-i-wish-i-could-say · 1 year

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My whole life I’ve felt like no one could ever truly like me, let alone love me. Since I was a young child I have felt this worthless and unlovable. I used to think that the government secretly paid everyone to be nice to me and that if they ever did genuinely like me for me then they would be killed, which sounds insane but it’s what my self loathing pre-pubescent brain came up with. I don’t really know where it all stems from, I have theories about me being the oldest, the example sibling or cousin, but it could very well come from something traumatic that I can’t remember. This fire has most definitely been fuelled over the years though. Whether intentionally or not by friends, family, bullies, really anything anyone has said to me I’ve found a way to twist it into “they hate me”. Despite my obviously negative self image I remember being pretty happy as a kid, I didn’t fit in perfectly with anybody but I was okay with that, I had enough friends to get me through the early years of school. But then as I grew older, and societies pressure started to ramp up, I could no longer let myself be free of what people thought or said. I don’t quite remember what age I figured out if I sucked my stomach in then I’d look thinner, but I’ve been doing it long enough, and I still do sometimes, and I’ve got the protruding ribs to prove it. In everything I do and I’ve done I have just never felt good enough. I don’t know where I got it in my head that in order to be worthy of love and attention I had to be the best, but I could never be the best because I wasn’t worthy of being the best. I used to pass the first part off as my competitive spirit I gained from playing sports as a kid or growing up with siblings, but it’s truly harmed me in ways I can’t fix. I find a lot of comfort in the mindset that “anything worth doing is worth even just half assing because it’s better to try a bit then not at all” but I can’t seem to get it through my head. I’m a perfectionist, and it’s so hard to be a perfectionist and also a chronic procrastinator, because I want everything done perfectly so I can receive some sort of validation because god knows I can’t get it from myself, but I often put things off until the last minute to avoid the icky feeling associated with working yourself to the bone to be perfect. You’d think that the validation I get for being a good student or a good employee or a good sister or a good friend or anything would be enough for me, well you’d be sorely mistaken. I’m trapped in a vicious cycle of needing to be perfect in order to be worthy of love and validation, but once I receive said love and validation I don’t believe I’m worthy of it so I don’t take it in, it doesn’t help in any way, I’m constantly chasing an unattainable goal for myself that even if I got to I’d never be satisfied with myself. A friend of mine introduces me to his friends as one of his smart friends and one of the smartest people he knows, and when he told me that I immediately told him that he’s wrong, I’m not the smartest person he knows, because I can’t let myself accept what a huge compliment that is and feel good about myself. But you wanna know what makes me feel worse, when other people put themselves down in comparison to me, like my friend did in that conversation, he put himself down to justify how smart I am, and the same thing happens with my siblings, I feel awful that I set the academic bar so high with my grades because I see how my parents react to my siblings grades and how my siblings compare themselves to the grade I got at their age, and it makes me feel awful. In trying to “set an example” I accidentally created a bar so high that my parents expectations now can’t be met.

I will say though, my self loathing used to have to do much more gymnastics to achieve its goals, like back in high school when I was getting super high grades and doing very well, it was definitely harder to make myself feel like shit, but now that I’m in university, my self hatred is having a fucking field day. My parents have told me that I’m smarter than both of them, and I know they meant it as a compliment but I took it as a scale to measure up to, and if I proved that I wasn’t in fact smarter than my mom who had two degrees and my dad who’s a fucking engineer, then I had failed not only myself but them as well. And it didn’t help that university is where my grade started going downhill, predictably yes but downhill nonetheless. I would work my ass off for weeks to scrape by with a C, and every holiday my family would ask how school was going and I couldn’t tell them the truth, that I was hanging on by a thread mentally and that I wasn’t the smart girl that they knew me to be. Now I’m not the first in my family to go to post secondary school, but I am the oldest of my cousins who live close by, so everyone, my aunts and uncles and my grandparents were all watching me and they all have their own expectations. In some ways I’ve felt like I’ve had a spotlight on me my whole life, that I was my family’s dancing monkey and if I stumbled or tripped they would leave their seats and refund their tickets. It’s exhausting, always trying to be the best for other peoples benefit and to the detriment of yourself. I’ve tried several times to enter a “I don’t give a fuck” era of my life, but my attempts have been feeble at best and I always end of compromising for other peoples comfort. I truly don’t know who I am because who I am has never belonged to me, it’s always been owed to someone else, for someone else gain or benefit, I think that’s why it took until I was 17 to realize I was bisexual, because I didn’t allow myself to be anything besides who other people needed me to be. And I was terrified to tell people that I was bi, because what if that no longer fit with the version of me they needed from me?

My therapist tells me I need to allow myself to feel my feelings, so I guess my notes app is going to become my new best friend because typing is far easier than writing in a journal, though I have a surplus. I’ve never allowed myself to take up more space then necessary or wanted of me, and I think that’s why I don’t allow myself to feel things out loud, because I absolutely do feel things, I just don’t allow them to leave my mind because I don’t feel worthy of taking up space or other peoples time with my emotions. And maybe it’s not the healthiest thing to be in a friend group full of people who feel the same way, but they truly understand, even if we never speak about it, I know they understand exactly what I’m saying.

So while I begin searching for myself, giving myself grace and allowing myself to exist and that be enough and worthy of love, I want to leave some part words for anyone who related a little too much to this and anyone who managed to get to the end of this. I see you, I know how you feel, and don’t listen to what your brain tells you, because if your brain is telling you you’re stupid, well guess what if your brain is stupid so is that observation so. But in all seriousness, you do not have to be anymore than you to be worthy of love, truly.

#12:54am #self loathing #vent post

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mar-mckinnon · 2 years

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Character Name: Marlene Mórag McKinnon Age & Birthday: 23 years old, october 25th. Scorpio sun, cancer moon & aries rising. Gender & Pronouns: she/her Blood type: Pureblood Sided with: Order of the Phoenix Occupation: Hit Witch Face Claim: Ana de Armas

~ Personality ~

Positive:

Loyal: Marlene is, above all things, loyal. She is loyal to her family, to her friends, to the cause and to the Order. Treason is something that she does not tolerate. She doesn’t let people in very easily, but if she does and you break her trust, there’s no turning back. For her, loyalty is everything and there are no valid excuses for disloyalty. Marlene would rather die than betray her loved ones.

Clever: She is smart; not just books smart, but genuinely smart. Even though she can be loud, Marlene observes everything and everyone. She is very quick witted and has an opinion for everything. She can act under pressure and always comes up with weird but efficient solutions.

Honest: Marlene is brutally honest and a terrible liar. She always says what she thinks and doesn’t beat around the bush. She hates when people lie to her, even when they are trying to protect her. Marlene sees herself as a tough person who can take anything, so it really annoys her when people lie to her for “her own good”.

Protective: Marlene is fierce when it comes to her people and those in a vulnerable position. Her loved ones being hurt and her not being able to help is one of her greatest fears in life.

Brave: she is a Gryffindor to the core. Marlene has a strong sense of justice and doing what it’s right. One of the people she admired the most were her parents, both aurors who were killed by Voldemort personally.

Negative:

Rude: Marlene can be really rude with the people she doesn’t like, and sometimes with the people who she actually likes. She is impulsive, so usually says what comes to her mind without thinking about the consequences.

Stubborn: Marlene is, perhaps, the personification of stubbornness. She is a sore loser and hardly ever admits when she lost an argument. She would go to ridiculous lengths to prove her point.

Impatient: The worst thing that could happen to her is to wait or to go on a surveillance mission. Marlene is a woman of action and needs to be doing things.

Reckless: There is a fine line between being extremely brave and reckless, and Marlene just loves to cross it on daily basis. She can be impulsive, so she tends to jump before checking if there’s water in the pool. Sometimes it’s fine and others she ends up with multiple concussions and fractures.

Growing up:

Marlene Mórag McKinnon was born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, in the McKinnon Manor. Her childhood was filled with good memories. She grew up in a warm and loving environment. Her parents were permissive but not idiots. All the McKinnons siblings received the proper pureblood education and Marlene was educated to be a princess. She knows different languages like French and Gaelic; but also ballet and to play the piano. At the age of five, she learned how to ride a broom and ever since then, she became obsessed with quidditch. That same year, Marlene performed her first magical act: she levitated all the furniture from the living room.

Impressed by her ambition and cleverness, the sorting hat almost sorted her into Slytherin, but ended up by placing her in Gryffindor because she asked for it. Her oldest brother Nicholas told her endless stories about the house and she was just so amazed by it, but also because Marlene had always looked up for her brother and wanted to be like him. Classes were easy and she excelled academically without even studying too much. On her second year, she joined the quidditch team as the new seeker: she was quick and sneaky, perfect for the job.

When graduation came, Marlene decided to become a Hit Witch. She would have never endured working behind a desk, and being a Hit Witch was the ideal job for her. Marlene was one of the firsts of her friends to join the Order. She had access to it through her family, so when she found out about it, she joined without hesitation.

During the war:

Tw: death

For Marlene, it was a no brainer. Being in the Order was as easy as breathing. She joined as son as she could. The McKinnons were considered traitors amongst the pureblood community, and they never bothered with pretending to be something they weren’t. The war took a toll on Marlene, it made her go through terrible things.

During the war, Marlene did things she vowed she’d never do, like killing people (always in self defense, of course, but still). For someone as righteous as her, her first killing had been extremely hard and it took her everything in her to move on.

The worst part, however, was by the end of the war. It came to a point when each week, someone died. During the war, Marlene lost both her parents and her eldest brother, Nicholas, who died in her arms. The two of them went on a mission and he died trying to protect her. It is still up to this day that she can’t forgive herself and has night terrors about it.

It was a bad time for her. Marlene was devastated and furious and terrified and completely overwhelmed and that was a dangerous combination for a highly trained Hit Witch.

The present:

Tw: death, ptsd

Marlene is just trying her best. With both her parents and her eldest brother dead, she and her twin brother Mark were the ones in charge of raising their three youngest siblings: Benjamin (14), Sophie (10) and Oliver (4). The five of them still live in the manor alongside their uncle, and Marlene’s godfather, Edward McKinnon. She’s not in a happy place, but she’s not at her very lowest either.

The war and her parents’ death forced her to grow up quickly, not to mention having her brother dying in her arms as well. Instead of going out with her friends, most of her nights she stays at home, reading bedtime stories to Oliver or comforting Sophie when she cries because she misses her mom. Marlene cries too, every night before going to bed and when she doesn’t, she wakes up in the middle of the night screaming.

When it comes to the current state of politics, Marlene has her reservations when it comes to Dumbledore, but because she always has her reservations with politicians and people in power. She also happens to spend a lot of time at the Hogs’ Head, so she hears a lot coming from Aberforth. Still, Marlene likes to think for herself, but even she can’t deny that there’s something shady going on. There was a time when she followed her Headmaster blindly, but now… now she has a more cautious approach. If there was something that the war taught her was that she should never, ever, follow anyone blindly.

Wand:

Phoenix feather: Phoenix feather wands are capable of the greatest range of magic, although this means that sometimes they will act of their own accord. Wands with this expensive material as their core are the pickiest of all the cores in choosing the most suitable owner, and allegiance is often hard-won.

Aspen: Wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. Aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

Unyeilding: A wand of this flexibility finely tunes itself to its original owner’s preferences and doesn’t stray from those preferences, even in the hands of a new owner; the new owner will just have to get used to it. It is particularly good for combative and healing magic. Unyielding wand owners tend to be very confident in themselves and/or in the things they believe in. They tend to be intelligent, somewhat cynical, and usually have well-defined principles that they will not stray from ever. Sometimes, this combination can lead to arrogance because of them insisting on how right they are without considering other points of view or whether or not they might be wrong.

Patronus:

Marlene’s patronus takes de form of a tiger. She is strong and independent. She is also ruthless when it comes to protecting her loved ones and will do absolutely anything for them. If you provoke her, you should expect retaliation because she will fight back. Marlene named her patronus Godric.

Boggart:

When she was a kid, her boggart took the shape of a werewolf.

During her time at Hogwarts, it changed to Death Eaters.

During the war: her loved ones being dead.

Post war: either her siblings being dead or the shape of her dead brother blaming her for his death.

Family:

Father: Richard McKinnon, Gryffindor, former Head of the Auror Deparment. Status: dead, killed by Voldemort himself.

Mother: Susan McKinnon, Ravenclaw, former Healer. Status: dead, killed by Voldemort himself.

Uncle/Godfather: Edward McKinnon, Slytherin, Potioneer. Status: alive.

Eldest brother: Nicholas McKinnon, Gryffindor, former Auror. Status: dead, killed by death eaters and died in Marlene’s arms.

Twin brother: Mark McKinnon, Hufflepuff. Satus: alive.

Brother: Benjamin McKinnon, 14 years old, Hufflepuff, still at Hogwarts.

Sister: Sophie McKinnon, 10 years old, future Slytherin.

Brother: Oliver McKinnon, 4 years old, future Raveclaw.

#bio #inspo #death tw

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soulvomit · 3 years

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I have lots of thoughts about how girls and boys in the US (and lots of places, I just didn’t want to overgeneralize) are brought up in totally different social, cognitive, and linguistic silos that we’re raised in from the earliest part of childhood. As soon as we can talk and our words are corrected by the people around us, based upon their perception of our gender, we’re being socialized into a gender silo. Now, before I go on with this, I want to point out that for all kinds of reasons - unusual upbringing, gender identity/conformity, neurodivergence, being raised in a culture space without strong homosociality norms, etc - it’s possible for someone not to end up in a silo from early early childhood. So there being no one biologically essential experience of girlhood or boyhood, can absolutely co-exist with the existence of social and cognitive silos. The thing with these silos is that, in my opinion, men and women have more of the same experiences and emotions in common than not. I am not saying - necessarily - that men and women are the same. What they’re taught is completely different expected social norms around these things, and different ways of dealing with conflict within their groups and with their friendships. Now, if you are my age and you’ve read Deborah Tannen then this seems like a no-brainer. But I don’t think people really think about how far down this rabbit hole goes, or the probable Sapir-Whorf-adjacent implications of the whole thing. Boys and girls are given completely different messages by children’s programming and by the world around them about how they’re supposed to interact, communicate, and even PERCEIVE THEIR WORLD, and what words they’re supposed to use to describe their emotions. Depending upon how sealed off their silo is - they may grow up thinking that only *their* gender experiences specific emotions or life experiences. For example, some women thinking all men are inherently predators, because they’ve never known any men except the ones who preyed upon them. Some hetero-attracted cis men thinking ALL women can get any sex they want, and are never lonely, and that the rich, mean hot girls represent the attitudes of all women - because they’ve never known, in their entire life, unrelated girls or women outside of a very specific social context. Women with almost identical types of attitudes thinking that entitled incels are always male. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. It always looks like, from within your particular social silo, the opposite sex has actually different emotions and needs as opposed to being socialized to talk about those things differently. Like... it became really clear to me that “bunny boiler discourse” and “crazy ex girlfriend discourse” in the 80s and 90s was actually a conversation about female-on-male abuse and/or predation, filtered through an 80s average male-normative vocabulary instead of the therapy-influenced language that we’re taught as middle class women is “the right way to describe things” (particularly in a social environment where men are ALWAYS seen as victimizers and never victims). When you actually listened to what these guys were saying instead of getting pissed off at their choice of words, you actually absorbed that there was a legitimate experience being described here that cut across gender lines... guys just didn’t use the same words to talk about it, and were dealing with the social minefields of *their* particular silo in trying to articulate this rotten experience that was happening to them (that happens to all genders), and were just as socially slapped for using the wrong choice of words as women are. And when middle class girls talked about the same experiences, they were often directed away from blunt, short/succinct “working class” or “male” language and reinforced to express their thoughts/feelings in terms of the “polite” therapeutic or academic language that passes for Obligatory (White) Middle Class Female English in your particular era. Further, they were reinforced by practically all adults and all media that it was their job to police the speech of any boys in their presence. What’s frustrating is that a lot of upper class feminist approaches don’t really acknowledge that Compulsory Middle Class Female English is practically constructed so that women DON’T succinctly describe their experiences and feelings, yet this particular style of feminist discourse tends to present this form of communication as the *only* valid communication and actively problematizes other styles of communication. A big problem with a lot of approaches to feminism is that they don’t question the existence of this metaphysical silo or even try to leave it. You’re stuck inside Plato’s Cave, thinking that’s the whole universe. You don’t try to dismantle it and in many cases the things you’re doing that you think are “feminist” actually just reinforce this cultural silo. And I think it may even go deeper than the most popular approaches to Deborah Tannen’s analyses because there’s a whole Sapir-Whorf Adjacent metaphysical worldview/cognitive component to being siloed, it’s not *just* what words you use... but how you’re taught to relate to the world based upon what words you use and how it may even affect your development. And it’s also the fact that these silos act as social protection rackets that reinforce compulsory gender-conformist behavior.

#this is where The Matrix really nails gender if you think about it #reason the millionth that I'm an egalitarian #my own experience is that I was raised to communicate my boundaries and needs in short/blunt ways and had to learn how to use and speak #in politicized therapeutic language not just to interact with women but increasingly with many men too #the Sapir-Whorf adjacency and the cognitive aspects of these silos is why I feel that yes - correcting someone's language about describing #their own feelings and experiences - is just often just straight gaslighting

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kpostedsum · 3 years

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daddy issues; D.M

summary: you and draco bond over issues in 6th year

word count: 2.4k

warnings: err angst, comfort, illusions to sex

song: daddy issues (the remix) - the neighbourhood

a/n: i tried not to make it stereotypical bc i didn’t wanna make it seem all “i like older men lol”, probably my fav fic i’ve written, also arent these anime gifs so cute

masterlist | taglist

Take you like a drug

I taste you on my tongue

Tongues battling for dominance, bodies rubbing against each other searching for a feeling. It’s become routine now, a different person in your dorm swallowing a new pill, entangling limbs with someone just to feel something.

You ask me what I'm thinking about

I tell you that I'm thinking about

Whatever you're thinking about

Tell me something that I'll forget

And you might have to tell me again

It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

It was a constant cycle, putting yourself out there seeking the male attention you crave, seeking validation, constant reassurance and trusting too easily. That’s how you ended up with a different guy who always in the end leaves. You trusted too easily and people took advantage of how trusting and naive you are just for a quick shag.

You wished it wasn’t like this but that’s all you knew, wanting to be the best version of yourself for someone just to feel needed, no matter if the person was good or bad for you. You didn’t care, you wanted love from anyone you could get it from even if it just hurt you more.

You’re familiar with the absence, something stable made you feel a bit wary. It wasn’t something you were used to. Your father wasn’t the most present in your life, and even though he's there, he's never really there.

Go ahead and cry, little girl

Nobody does it like you do

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I love that she's got daddy issues, and I do too

You always wondered where you went wrong, he preferred your siblings over you and doesn't pay you a piece of his mind. Constantly going out of your way to get his attention whether it was academically or acting a certain way just to get some sort of reaction. But he was too preoccupied with his other children, even if they were from your mom or his affairs.

That’s how you found yourself right now sitting in the astronomy tower past curfew watching the rain fall, trying to clear your head while humming softly to yourself to keep yourself distracted.

You hear distant chattering from below and quickly get up from where you were sitting and make your way to your dorm unnoticed by anyone.

Except one person, Draco Malfoy.

I tried to write your name in the rain

But the rain never came

So I made with the sun

The shade

Always comes at the worst time

He’s seen you before, you’re known around Hogwarts for how you put yourself out there and how ‘desperate’ you are for some affection. He almost feels bad for you, but he’s in no place to judge. With his dad in Azkaban Draco had so much more to worry about, like his task and how he can succeed. But there was something about you that intrigued him that he couldn't ignore.

He saw you again in transfiguration the next day and noticed a few hickeys littering your neck that you had tried to cover but it didn’t work. He wondered why you gave yourself up to so many people, but once again he was in no place to judge. He noticed the way your tongue would stick out when you focused extra hard, the way your hands would tighten around your quill when you got a question wrong and your face.

The same face that many boys including the older years would fawn over, the face that entranced and attracted many, the face of someone who would do anything for someone for some affection and the face of someone who seeked out all the wrong things.

You ask me what I'm thinking about

I tell you that I'm thinking about

Whatever you're thinking about

Tell me something that I'll forget

And you might have to tell me again

It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

You walk out of transfiguration on your way to the owlery to send a letter to your parents and feel eyes watching you everywhere. You like it, the attention, it’s something that you thrived in, but you couldn’t help but feel a new set of eyes on you.

Once you reached the owlery you realized you weren't the only one there, Draco Malfoy was also there sending a letter to who you assumed was his mother.

“y/n, right?” he asked, trying to spark a conversation.

“Yea, listen i’m sorry about what happened with your father i know you really looked up--”

“Dont worry about it, he wasn’t as good an influence as I made him out to be,” he sighed, looking away.

“My dad isn’t the best either if i’m being honest, i guess we’re in the same boat” you let out a light chuckle.

And that’s how you found yourself hanging out with draco malfoy bonding over your shared issues.

Go ahead and cry, little girl

Nobody does it like you do

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I love that she's got daddy issues

It’s been weeks since you two started hanging out since the interaction in the owlery and have been getting closer ever since. You both sat down together in the astronomy tower, backed against the wall as the cool wind blew against your faces. The aura between you two was calm, a comfortable silence.

“So tell me about your dad, how is it with him in Azkaban?” you asked, tilting your head towards him.

“Mother’s not taking it well” he frowned. “I can’t even say potter’s wrong for getting him locked up because he deserves it. All my life he praised the dark lord and taught me to be selfish and always defend my blood, but he was never there for me when I needed him. I would have done everything just to hear ‘i’m proud of you’ but it never came. It’s worse now because mother’s all alone. I wish I could have stayed with her” he sighed looking out the tower watching the stars twinkle.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been much quieter this year as well, you stopped making fun of people. It’s not that nice on the receiving end huh?” you said with a teasing look on your face.

He shook his head at you scooting closer to you, it’s like the demeanor between you two have changed over the past few weeks. You found yourself pining over him rather than being in someone's bed. But this is how the cycle always goes, you get attached and they leave, you couldn’t help but hope this wasn’t the situation this time.

“Tell me about your father”

Daddy stuck around but he wasn't present

Cheated on your mom but she never left him

First I didn't get it, now I understand

He broke her heart, left money in her hand

So everything got paid for

She made sure you and your brother had way more

Than she ever had growing up

And when you told me the whole story I felt like throwing up

“ I don't know if i’d even call him my father at this point, he doesn't want me.” you sighed. “He's been cheating on my mum for years now and she still won't leave him because she thinks they can work it out. He’s had affairs with different pureblood women and has children with them. But what hurts the most is how he treats them as his own children and treats me as if I don't exist” you said, looking down as tears pooled your eyes.

Draco moved closer to you and brought his arm around your shoulders for a sense of comfort and waited for you to catch your breath so you can continue.

“I just want him to love me” you cried. “I go out my way to try and get his attention with my school work but it never works. That's why I get along with so many guys. I seek the validation, the comfort and the reassurance that I can get from him from others and I am so tired of it. I just want him to want me draco.” tears slipping out your eyes as you looked up at him, you’ve never confessed this to anyone before.

“Everyone always leaves, please don't leave me” you cried

“I’m not going anywhere” he turned his face towards you, leaning forward cautiously as if you were made of glass.

You leaned forward, wanting the exact same thing. Both very hesitant he gently pressed his soft lips against yours and they moved together in sequence, only taking a break to go back to his dorm and to breathe, limbs tangled together for the rest of the night until the sun rose.

I can see it on your face it was rough left a bad taste on your tongue

And she didn't even take any drug

She would rain all day

Couldn't wait for her son to shine

And you made it shine

There when she cried, you saved her life

It's been a week since that night in the astronomy tower and draco had already been avoiding you. It’s humiliating, but you should have known. You thought the ‘bond’ you had with him would last, it felt so genuine this time. So real.

You’d see him around the halls snogging pansy on your way back to the ravenclaw tower, lowering your head down so he wouldn’t be able to see you so you could get by quickly and unnoticed.

But he saw you.

He stared you right down in your teary eyes as he made out with pansy. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal, for someone who promised he wouldn’t leave you like everyone else, he did the exact same.

You did the only thing you knew of, you ran.

I keep on trying to let you go

I'm dying to let you know

How I'm getting on

I didn't cry when you left at first

But now that you're dead it hurts

This time I gotta know

Where did my daddy go?

I'm not entirely here

Half of me has disappeared

Draco followed you to the girls lavatory, hearing your shallow cries coming from one of the stalls. He approached the stall you were in trying not to make too much noise so he doesn't startle you.

He felt awful.

He promised he would never leave you, after you both poured your hearts out to each other but he still left. He had too, he was putting you in danger just by being with him. If Voldemort ever found out about you and hurt you he wouldn't be able to live with himself, that's why he took it upon himself to hurt you first.

“y/n are you in here?” he called out even though he knew the answer.

You recognized that familiar voice anywhere. “What do you want draco?” you said, trying to make it seem as if you weren’t just crying.

“I want to talk to you, please”

“No,” you said getting up and pushing yourself out of the stall. “You don't get to just throw me away after I told you everything and just come back into my life like nothing ever happened. Just go away, that's all you guys are good for” you spat.

“Just listen to me, it was to keep you safe. I didn;t want to but i couldn't bear seeing you hurt” he tried to explain.

“Safe?” you laughed. “ and what exactly do i need saving from, malfoy.”

“From me” he said as he pulled up his sleeve revealing his dark mark to you. Your body instantly tensed, you knew he was having problems and his family was involved with the dark lord but you never knew it was like this.

“Draco i-” you tried to say something but the words were stuck in your throat. He stood there looking at you desperately like he was waiting for you to tell him everything was okay, you wanted to be there for him but you didn’t know what to do. You trusted him with everything but he couldn't trust you with this? You thought the bond you had made would have made him trust you in the slightest, but clearly it's always you who’s more trusting.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

“I thought you’d leave me, you were the only good thing i had. Please don't leave me” he begged, salty tears escaping his eyes and running down his cheeks as he looked at you with desperation.

“So you thought pushing me away by snogging pansy was better?” you yelled, as he continued to look at you slightly taken aback by your lashing out.

“You know what, go ahead and cry little boy. You know that your daddy did too, you know what your mama went through. You gotta let it out soon, just let it out” you taunted walking closer to him looking straight into his teary eyes.

“This time I'll be the one that leaves.” and with that you were gone.

Go ahead and cry, little girl

Nobody does it like you do

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I love that she's got daddy issues, and I do too

It’s been months since that night in the girls lavatory, and you missed him. You wanted to visit him in the hospital wing once you heard what happened with Harry Potter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. He left you, and you were tired of always going back to people who just hurt you.

Now here you were at the battle of Hogwarts, standing with everyone while Voldemort and his death eaters stood across from you all.

“Draco, draco come here” you heard narcissa call from across the scene. He looked hesitant, as if he was waiting for someone to stop him but no one did. So he started walking over to his parents.

But you grabbed his hand.

“Stay please” you whispered looking up into his eyes.

He looked back at his parents and back at you like he was contemplating his answer.

“I’ll stay”

If you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I love that she's got daddy issues, and I do too

—————-

tagging fun ppl nd ppl who interacted (so srry if u don’t wanna be tagged)

@hellohellook @astoria-malfcy @justfangirlthingies @sfdlm @falling-loki @notvasi @gwlvr @malfoytookmyheart

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oliviamillss · 3 years

Text

reading dreams chart

im only going to use up to orb 3, for stronger accuracy lmao

**if you can’t be bothered to read it all, theres a summary paragraph at the bottom**

sun:

sun in 7th: strong emphasis on relationships. tends to copy others lingo/habits. extroverted. probably ‘needs’ others. only really shows his true self around his close friends/family/partners.

sun at 19 degrees: a libra degree. (emphasis on this bc libra rules 7h), makes him a very charming, likeable, particularly popular guy.

sun opposite ascendant: inner conflict, probably doesn’t feel like people see him for his true self, may struggle showing true self. may feel misunderstood. may need approval/validation a lot.

sun square mars: hints to daddy issues. may struggle with a lot of built up anger and frustration, but it seems like he takes it out very positively, as you can see he is competitive, so i think he lets it out through gaming. probably very energetic, motivated.

sun square saturn: high expectations for himself. probably the type of person to think ‘i’m only good enough if i do this’. probably very hard on himself. also probably very insecure of himself, but doesn’t show it. another sun square masculine planet, more hinting to daddy issues.

moon:

moon in 7th: probably relies on close friends/family/partners a lot. loves to help people, esp people he’s close with (kinda mr beast vibes). probably very like ‘oh shit, he’s sad, i need to do everything within my power to cheer him up’ if that makes sense lmao

moon in virgo: looking after people!!! esp with the sun square saturn,, high expectations. probably a very much perfectionist, which also explains why he is competitive. may ‘always need to be right’. but virgo moons are actually so lovely omfg

moon at 9 degrees: sagittarius degree, likes to help people by optimism, and giving things to the person that they would want (im aware that sounds obvious lmao). probably feels a sense of achievement when cheers them up.

moon square pluto: probably hard time dealing with and growing from negative things that have happened, possibly struggles with letting things go. possibly self destructive (why did that one heatwaves part come to mind), possible trust issues + anxiety, probably very particular about who he lets close into his life, maybe quite protective.

mercury:

mercury in 6th: likes to help people, probably not disappointed if he spends his time working with someone, may struggle with anxiety/depression. a quick learner, probably overthink every word because it wast the ‘perfect’ thing to say.

mercury in leo: funny asf, and out there, also thinks his ideas/things to respond and say are the best, with the 6h and 7h placements, he is open to listen to others, but in the end he only really wants his one lmfao, good with conversation.

mercury at 1 degree: aries degree, another fire placement which emphasises the loud, out there kinda vibes.

mercury trine mc: career and reputation are strongly linked with what he says. (this is obv bc hes famous lmao). he’s smart, particularly with technology and its linked to his career. *im aware this sounds like im just describing him, this is exact so thats why its overly accurate*

mercury opposite neptune: daydreamer, probably has a lot of thoughts and ideas in his head, but they just dont come across right. probably zones out, may struggle with focusing. but very creative, has big and creative ideas. i havent mentioned it before but its come up too many times now, but he has a lot of placements, when manifested badly, creates a good manipulator

mercury square jupiter: optimistic, possibly thinks his ideas are the best (we’ve covered that before), can be really overly talkative or just nothing at all. (i rlly dont know much about this placement)

venus:

venus in 7th: he will have a beautiful relationship with his future partner. charming asfff, probably a good flirt. tends to love love. needs to be liked, sort of a pleaser.

venus in virgo: the type of person to remember everything about the people he cares about. loves to help the people he cares about. probably sees the people he truly loves as ‘perfect’, which may end up being really bad if they’re toxic.

venus in retrograde: struggles feeling loved, possibly feels like he doesn’t deserve love. probably the type to be like ‘how could you ever love me?’

venus square mc: attract people who take care of him. either has self-esteem issues, or is quite a dependant person. creative. may struggle finding people who support his career, or may have to change a few things about himself to be liked by others.

venus trine jupiter: very likeable, and he’s veryyy lucky. he’s funny, and a generous person, probably very giving to his close friends and family. charismatic asfff, likely he will marry someone foreign.

mars:

mars in 9th: more things hinting to attract(ing/ed to) foreigners. loves experiencing things with people he cares about. likes to learn more and more, possibly stubborn, makes sure his opinions are known.

mars in scorpio: that boy needs privacy in his life, doesn’t like being predictable. probably an overthinker. we’ve already known this but he’s definitely a top. probably could get anyone he wants, seductive asfff. also pretty spiteful.

mars at 17 degrees: leo degree, fame bitchesss

mars square ascendant: hates to lose, competitive. people may be intimidated by him at first, can’t really hide anger, pretty stubborn.

mars opposite saturn: really hard on himself. wants to be the best of the best, leader. stands up for himself. another placement hinting to daddy issues. harsh about his work, and himself in general, perfectionist.

mars square uranus: anger may change a lot, a lot of energy, probably struggles to focus, doesn’t like to be the one who is being controlled/has restrictions. probably struggles with authority. outbursts of anger.

jupiter

jupiter in 3rd house: loves writing, and is actually pretty good at it. knows how to talk to people, how to persuade them, and how to manipulate them. good liar, knows how to sell his wants across, how to get what he wants.

jupiter at 4 degrees: cancer degree, cancer rules his 6h. he uses his luck/money to help others.

jupiter square neptune: big dreams, desire to escape the world as it is.

saturn:

saturn in 3rd: afraid of/ is often misunderstood. struggles to open up?, maybe he wasn’t listened to much growing up. hard on himself academically, feels like he isn’t smart enough. hard time expressing himself. maybe feels like noone really cares for what he has to say?

saturn at 16 degrees: cancer degree. idk what else to say abt it lmaoo

saturn square ascendant: quite serious, maybe struggle with the way he looks? possibly quite overwhelmed about his life,, feels like he has too much to do at times. fear of rejectionnn

saturn square uranus: maybe he doesn’t like change, tradition v change clashing. authority troubles. probably needs freedom, but feels unstable without what he’s used to. rebelling against norms.

uranus:

uranus in 12th: probably very curious about unexplainable things, maybe quite into conspiracy theories. two complete ends of the spectrum: fear change/need it, unpredictable things happen/ everythings the same.

uranus at 14 degrees: taurus. taurus ruling 2nd, i guess it shows change in dream’s wealth.

uranus opposite north node (and conj south node): with exceptions, doesn’t like conflict. he is fine with joke conflict, but the second there’s an actual argument he tries to be the ‘peacemaker’ guy. technology is major in his life. also quite nervous about his career/future.

neptune:

neptune in 12th: awful sleep schedule. overworking himself, never relaxing. vivid dreams. once again, this has come up loads and i just haven’t mentioned it: intuitive asf, george is the same. whether either are aware of it or not, they are super intuitive.

neptune at 2 degrees: taurus degree.

neptune sextile mc: creative, also likes helping others, empathy to the public. has big dreams career wise.

pluto:

pluto in 10th: determined person, gets a lot of hate, but also a lot of love. trust issues, persuasion/manipulative abilities. leader leader leader. another hint to daddy issues, maybe privacy invading, maybe overprotective. don’t want to be controlled.

north node:

north node in 6th: overwork himself. but i think we can interpret this as his life goal to be working to help people. literally mr beast. just work hard, and give a lot away. humble.

chiron:

chiron in 9th: possible restriction from either his or his communities beliefs/religions. maybe he’s afraid of leaving where he is right now (sapnap moving to orlando, whenever its brought up its always george coming to orlando)

lilith:

lilith in sagittarius: need for truth. dislikes restrictions. hides emotions, uses humour to avoid them/ make people think they’re okay when they’re not. stubborn asf.

lilith in 10th: tend to be sexualised/ reputations for being sexual. another placement hinting to daddy issues. really wants to be at the top, the most powerful. likes using his dominance/ power to seduce. motivateddd.

lilith conjunct pluto (exact omfg): typical ‘mystery’ guy. probably the mystery/scorpio vibes he pulls off attracts/ seduces people. the most dominant partner ever. sex is probably so intense and overwhelming

moon square lilith: possible mummy issues. his need for sex can change quick asf, from one end of the scale to another. struggles to open up.

i ought to mention!!

there’s a theory that the degree of your venus sign is the birthday of someone who is v important in your life. what’s dreams you may ask? 1. and when are george and sapnap’s birthdays? the 1st. they’re soulmates, your honour.

summary!!!

basically, dream has so much care and love for his friends and family, and probably relies on them a lot. he only shows his true self around them, and he (at least thinks) people don’t really understand him in the way his friends and family do. he is a social person, who’s very likeable and charming. he lovesss helping people, doing everything in his power to cheer others up, he remembers details about the people he loves. he is such a perfectionist, needing to succeed and win and everything, and is very competitive. he probably doesn’t think he’s ‘worthy’ if he’s bad at something. he sets very high expectations for himself. he is very hard on himself. if he wants to, he knows how to manipulate people. he has so so many placements for an amazing manipulator. he may struggle to express himself or open up, and may be hard on himself academically. maybe he doesn’t feel ‘listened to’. a lot of emotions like anger and sex drive may change rapidly for him. he over works himself a lot. a major theme in his life is tradition vs change. he is probably afraid of change, or finds it uncomfortable, or he may have some sort of attachment to traditional values/things, no matter how much he wants to change. he is also a peacemaker. he was born to be loved or hated, kinda like marmite but if the balance was more equal. he doesn’t like restrictions. he uses humour to hide his emotions.

im also thinking of doing a synastry reading between george and dream but idk yet lol

hope you guys enjoyed, this took ages lmao<3

#dream #dreamwastaken #dreamsmp #astrology #chart reading #sun in 7th #famous people chart reading #moon in 7th #mercury in 6th #venus in 7th #mars in 9th #jupiter in 3rd #saturn in 3rd #uranus in 12th #neptune in 12th #lilith in 10th #lilith conjunct pluto #moon square lilith #astrology reading

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