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anxiousheart7 · 8 months

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*spoilers* Astarion’s story - analysis and thoughts

I’ve been thinking quite a lot on Astarion the last couple of weeks, and the journey I’ve been on with him. I’ve seen a lot of content about him.

I’ll start by saying this - I didn’t ascend him. I couldn’t. I did, however, watch the ascension on YouTube but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m going to explain why.

Here’s the TL:DR version, with my deeper dive below.

As Astarion gets his revenge in Cazador, his flurry of knives felt oddly satisfying to me. It was a release as grim and cathartic. That cry of pain and ending felt necessary for him. I came out of that palace knowing that it was ok and he’d be ok.

The ascension felt gratuitous. Watching him carve exactly what Cazador put him through should have been cathartic too, but it wasn’t. I just felt a shiver of cold. And that was the moment I knew it was the ‘bad’ ending.

Experiencing Astarion’s Journey - delving deeper

I don’t think I’ve ever quite experienced a character story like his before. Here’s someone who is quite clearly designed to draw you in via the usual routes. He’s attractive, he’s got the funny lines. He’s the rogue - a lot of D&D players’ favourite class. He quickly becomes indispensable.

At the start, his flirting was fun. Act 1 I think is supposed to be a light hearted toe in the water, so to speak. Right up until your first major choice with the goblin vs tiefling conflict. Then it becomes real. But until then you can spend copious amounts of time wandering and chatting to your new friends in camp while some of them (namely Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach and Astarion) go straight to ‘i want you’ territory. And you’ll gravitate to those that are ready to get hot and heavy because…video game sex.

There was such a focus on romancing your camp and you lean into that so heavily in act 1. Approval is all-important. And his approval is harder to get, so you try harder with your choices. You want this guy. Like really want him. He’s like ambrosia. And, if you’re not one of the 100k rejections toted in Larion’s infographic, you get him.

As a recovering people pleaser, I’m not going to lie, that was a hard concept to grasp. To make your choices based on who you were trying to impress is exactly the kind of behaviour I’ve been trying to step away from in real life. But hey, this is a game so I’ll be ok.

And then it starts…

Looking back, there’s this line that stood out ‘it felt like you weren’t all there’. Despite his insistence later, Astarion was very likely going to that place of dissociation that he talks about later on. And that’s sad, because as Tav you want this milestone to be special. You want them to fall in love with you. The reward for all your hard-earned approval hiking.

But Astarion masks. He masks well, but you can tell on Insight that it’s all an act. Even when you look closely, the ham fisted complements he throws at you reflects the 10 charisma he’s carrying around. He works as a lothario not because he’s an adept silver-tongued Casanova. It’s because he’s simply beautiful. People see him and want him. His looks mask what’s going on underneath. But then you look into his eyes and it’s right there, plain as day.

There’s so much more underneath. I have watched the scene over and over with the hammy chat up lines as he’s trying to convince you to sleep with him again (I got propositioned first before the tiefling party) and the more I watch, the more I believe that ‘I love you’ wasn’t an act. They wouldn’t have given you three brush off comment choices if it was. He meant that, and I don’t think he even realised he meant it until he found the words coming out of his mouth - as though he was daring himself to say it.

With Astarion, it’s all in the eyes.

And, as someone who has seen those eyes in the mirror on a pretty regular basis, I knew there and then until he started revealing his backstory - the scars, the master and all the rest, I knew this was going to hit very hard and this man was a deep well. He was so lost that he barely had any idea of who he was any more.

By the time you’re well into Act 2, you’re starting to get the gist of him. You learn about his sadness and sense of loss around his identity before he was turned. You learn about the scars. And you learn about Cazador. I got the sense that all of this exposition was almost like a therapy dump from him. Thoughts and feelings he’s wanted to express for decades but hasn’t had a soul to tell - or he’s been compelled not to by his master. Now he can get them out. He can voice how unfair and unjust it feels. The sarcasm, the cynicism, all a way of expressing how much pain he is in. But one thing he’s never lost is the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t been beaten down so much to believe that he is unworthy of better treatment. And that sense of self is what I believe has kept him going all this time. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He knows Cazador was a cruel, sadistic monster.

And I hugged him. Of course I hugged him. I defended his autonomy from the moonrise drow and I hugged him after. At this point I’d fallen as hard for him as he had for me. I cared for him. I couldn’t make any of those obviously awful choices with him. When the details of the ritual came up I felt a knot in my stomach. And sure enough every time we talked after that point he talked about taking that power and I thought ‘this will be rough’.

It reminded me of a lot of really bad experiences I’d had in the past. Boyfriends and friends who were clearly bad for me and I was bad for them. And yet, I needed to help this guy. This person who had nobody for so long. Who didn’t know what it felt like to have someone actually care about him.

I looked this as someone who has experienced trauma in their life. How would I feel. How have I felt? To be scared of so many things. To wonder why on earth would I do something nice for someone else when I’ve sat in alleys, starving and in pain while people just walk on by. No gods to answer my pleas for help. I’d be cynical and disapproving too. I’d have a warped sense of humour. I’d want to never feel that again. Of course he saw the one thing that could protect him and feel compelled to grasp it with both hands.

Astarion has conjured up feelings in me I thought were long gone.

Astarion’s finale

The images I’ve included in this post have been doing the rounds on tumblr and this hits so hard it hurts. Astarion’s journey ends in such as way that it’s meant to be hard.

If you’re a gamer that commodifies your characters as a series of stats or objectifies them based on their design, then ascend him. It doesn’t matter to you. And I’ve seen plenty of people on message boards and Facebook saying exactly that - “but he gets these powers and is so badass”. They’ve never seen past the facade. He was a jerk at the start of the game, a creepy flirt and a vampire ready to be staked. And that was it.

Every excessive power in this game has a major consequence that you have to live with. This choice I think is one of the biggest before the climax of the game.

The ascension pretty much erases him. It takes who he was and the healing that he’s done and throws it away, as if it never really mattered.

And to him he’s worth exactly what he thought he was to begin with. His self-worth is warped into superiority and his hunger and fear replaced with a hunger for power and dominance. He’s not free in this form. He just becomes a new kind of imprisoned. He’s placed in stasis forevermore. And this won’t last forever because as absolute power corrupts absolutely, it also falls. Just like Ozymandius, he’ll rise and collapse under his own grandiose. And he’ll take you with him if you let him.

That steamy scene before he turns you is basically exactly what the Larion writer is saying - you’ve not empathised or grown here. Have your sex scene and then enjoy your eternal enslavement with New Cazador. It’s a bad ending for you and Astarion. You get to be exactly what he was, no matter what pretty words he tried to convince you with - he’s still that 10 charisma trying to convince himself as much as you. He’s Act 1 Astarion with some nifty new powers. He will control you like a doll and yours will be the same half life his was. He’ll start with promises of being his right hand, but somewhere down the line you’ll do or say something and he’ll do to you what was done to him. It’s the ultimate narcissistic relationship.

If Astarion walks away, he’s him. Truly him. With purpose and a new path to walk. You can build a new life together with nothing holding you back. The trauma behind him, he can now walk a path of healing for himself and learn who he is. It makes me feel hopeful and joyful that he gets a second chance.

And that’s where I’m at. My ideal ending is for them both to go off together searching for a cure for his vampirism. Whether it’s possible, who knows - on writing this I’m still to finish my first run of the game. But at least there’s that glimmer of hope in that ending.

I think Astarion is beautiful. There’s a reason half the internet is madly in love with him right now. But if you let yourself, he becomes more than a nice body and a pretty face. His complexity opens up like a puzzle box and you feel the satisfaction of a truly beautiful arc come to its climax. He’s a beautifully written and crafted character and I’m so glad to have experienced his story.

I could say so much more…but it’s long enough as it is. Thanks for reading x

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion

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indouloureux · 2 years

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liquid smooth

eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie's nightmares corrode his nights for the past two weeks. with guilt overwhelming his healing wounds, you let your boyfriend talk to you as a cathartic release.

word count: 2,317

warnings: MAJOR STRANGER THINGS VOLUME TWO SPOILERS. mentions of violence, maybe ptsd, blood and depictions of gore. angst, quick and shitty writing like the duffer brothers, maybe fluff at the end.

a/n: a fix it fic. the one where IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. anyway, hope you all enjoy. mcu!peter coming next (this is me trying)

MASTERLIST

(FOLLOW @bloodstheink TO GET NOTIFIED WHEN I POST)

The space beside you is oddly cold.

You expect it to be warm, full of flesh and comforting arms wrapped around you, his blood flowing through his tatted arms. But it’s not – instead your hand caresses the crumpled part of the blanket you share.

Cold sheets render you awake. You sit up, rubbing the sleep of your eyes and blindly reach for the lamp. Immediately does the warm glow of the bulb illuminate Eddie’s room in a dim glisten, adding an orange dusk to his scattered black and white posters of metal bands you only know half of.

With feet covered by borrowed socks, you leave his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself. And as the sleep withers away into a void, you realize that Eddie is not here – not beside you. Not in the room, and not in the bathroom where you just checked.

“Eddie?” you call, quietly, amidst the silent trailer, afraid of waking up the neighbors and whoever it is that still hunt him down. You notice a lone mug sitting on the side of his table, partly filled with cold coffee. You take it into your hand and gently place it in the sink before you emerge to the small living room.

You see disarranged pillows, no longer in the place where you placed them last night before going to bed. There’s a new cigarette in the ashtray, and with the moonlight slipping through the thin blinds, you see faint smoke emerging. “Eddie?” you call again.

The lack of response presses play to a nervous song that thumps on your heart. Its lyrics circle around your filled head – where could he be? What happened to him? Did he just suddenly leave without telling me? The song an anthem to your worries that have risen these past weeks. Mostly for him, anyway.

That’s when you hear soft humming of a tune outside the trailer from the back. You whip your head to the slippers beside the door and slip it on, ever so softly opening the door and exit the small house and tramp your way behind to see him.

Eddie’s sitting on an old crate of beer, unamplified electric guitar lays on his lap, caressed by his bandaged fingers. Although it’s been a two weeks, you miss seeing the rings on his hand. You cross your arms, and walk towards your awakened boyfriend.

When he sees your socks he stops, looking up at you with a small smile. “Hey, babe,” he murmurs. His voice is accompanied by the air that crumples the fallen leaves of the forest behind, followed by a soft grunt coming from you when you sit on the ground in front of him. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” you shake your head, resting your chin on his thigh that’s covered by his pajamas, but beneath it is another wrap of gauze. “I just woke up by accident.”

“Did I worry you?”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat from inside, or if he felt the decelerating pulse on your wrist when he grabs a hold of it to thumb on your skin. “No,” you say again. “I – I didn’t mean to worry. I know you hate it when I worry.”

“It’s alright,” the croak in his voice is tired, yet here he is, early in the morning with the sign of missing sleep underneath his eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you kiss his left knuckle, the one exposed and covered with healing cuts. “It…woke you up again, didn’t it? The nightmare?”

Eddie’s eyes are glossed, the stained glass of his windows form a composition of trauma. He nods, looking away from you. Out of shame, embarrassment, you don’t know.

“Is it the same one?”

He sighs, resting the guitar flat on his lap. “Yeah,” he swallows, accommodated by a laugh that’s so Eddie it hurts, because you know he laughs every time to mask the pain. “Always been. Same one every fucking night, yet I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You said it stopped,” your words are anything but a scold, but you can’t hide the upset that comes with. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he sniffs, tears on the edge of his eyes that he blinks away. Eddie looks at your joint hands – wounded mingled with the unwounded. “I don’t…want to be a burden to you.”

“Baby, I’m always going to worry,” you sit up, on your knees, and cup his face in your hands. His bangs almost poke his eyes now, and you let your thumbs brush it in the middle to see his wide eyes – pretty, but damaged. “And you’re not a burden.”

“I keep you up late,” Eddie whispers. “I know you wait for me to fall asleep. And I pretend that I do so you’d fall asleep. You shouldn’t be losing sleep because of me.”

You don’t know what punches you: guilt? Sadness? “It’s not because of you, Eds. It’s because of me,” you hope your words reassure me. “It’s my choice.”

He stays silent for a bit, like he’s thinking of his next words to get away with this conversation. Eddie kisses your palm, smiles when you smile as your thumb comes across the crinkles of his eyes. “Yeah,” Eddie licks his lips. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m coming with.”

Then he kisses you, because he knows you’d say something to protest against his offer. Eddie’s lips are chapped, though it still reminds you of him. His bandaged hand comes up to place itself behind your head to bring you deeper.

But you push away because you know what he’s doing, and you don’t want it to happen. “Eddie,” you murmur against his twitching lips. “Eds, you promised we’d talk about it if it keeps on happening.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he kisses you. Again, not out of want but as a beg for you to forget. “And we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Eddie, no,” you push him away gently, removing his hand from the back of your head. “I don’t care what time it is. I – I don’t care if I’m losing sleep because you’re losing it too. I told you I’d be here no matter what, and we’re going to talk about it right now.”

His sigh is defeated. “Okay. I’m sorry,” Eddie rubs his forehead with yours.

“Now tell me what happened. Please?”

Eddie has been deferring the elucidation behind his wounds. You weren’t with him the day the night they went to attack – your role had been assigned to watch Max, Lucas, and Erica since they needed the guidance from someone older, given that the rest went to the upside down. And since then, everything went to shit;

You remember seeing Dustin and Steve carry Eddie’s unconscious body right before the “earthquake” happened. He looked like he’d just survived a bloody carnage, body doused in blood of his own, wounds open and throbbing, pulse weakening each second he lacked aid. No one but Dustin knew what happened, albeit you’ve never gotten the chance to ask him due to his ceaseless cries of fear.

He woke up the next day, and nights right after involved startling cries and quiet whimpers of help in his sleep, with you beside him to hush him back to dreamless sleep. You know he’s felt nothing but guilt when he sees your lethargic eyes in the middle of the night, stunned by his wet screams.

“I…I cut the rope back to the trailer,” he begins. “And…I left Dustin and I ran away to distract them. The bats. And…All I did was ran. That was my plan anyway, to run away and take them as far as I could. And then this stupid voice in my head – my voice – told me to just stop running and…face them. Because all my life I’d been running, because I’m nothing but a coward. I’m – I’m no hero. And I’ve got nothing else to do but run until I realized that my friends are out there who need my help.

“So I faced them. And, and I yelled at them and fought back. And then one of them caught me and I-” Eddie lets out a shuddered whimper, fingers rubbing his eyes. “They tore into my flesh and it hurt. And I let them, because I hoped it would help. It worked, though, and I thought I was going to die until Dustin came and tried hauling me back. Then Harrington saw me and just, since then I’ve felt so-… stupid trying to die for a town that hates me.”

He’s saying all this with tears in his eyes. What once was wide and full of undaunted mischief replaced by the horrors of the world that scarred his life like a knife to a flesh. “I feel so fucking stupid for trying to be a hero when I’m not.”

“You are,” you reposition yourself in front of him. “Eddie, you saved people who hate the living shit out of you. You – you saved Dustin, you saved us. You saved me,” somehow, the laugh that leaves you makes your boyfriend smile. “I’m going to agree and say what you did was unbelievably stupid, but your stupidity saved us all.”

You kiss him, again, more as an act of reverence. “You’ve always been a hero. And you’re so, so brave, Eddie. I mean, facing those bats? I don’t think your name should be Eddie the Banished anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles at you, tears staining his lips. “What should it be, then?”

“Eddie the Slayer,” you propose. “But instead of like, Dragon Slayer, it’d be Demobat Slayer. I bet you looked so fucking heroic standing up to those monsters.”

“I didn’t kill any of them, baby. They almost killed me.”

“Nobody’s gonna know,” you tease.

“They’re gonna know,”

“No, they’re not. Unless those dipshits start talking about the Upside Down without sounding like crazies, nobody’s gonna know.”

Eddie wipes his tears with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly. “Yeah, but if I would have done something better, Max would be okay right now.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s none of ours, really,” Eddie places the guitar on the ground and comes to sit on the ground with you, but takes your hips into his hands and sits you on his lap with his chin on your shoulder. “It’s that stupid Vecna’s fault. Fucking menace.”

He laughs. You run a hand beneath his shirt, fingertips feeling his adagio healing wounds. “Fucking menace, indeed. Tore my fucking trailer down. But here I am, still living in a trailer that’s two minutes away from mine.”

“Yeah, but we share this one now, though,” you kiss his forehead, relaxed at the loss of grime and dried blood. “You’re a hero, Eddie Munson. Hawkins may not see it, but I do. And so does Dustin.”

“Dustin,” he chuckles. “Bravest little shit I’ve ever met. Second to you, I mean,” Eddie kisses your neck. “And honestly, I don’t even care if people still see me as a freak or whatever. As long as you still see me as who I am, that’s all that matters.”

“Well, you still have to care. You’re still wanted, y’know,” you massage his scalp. “We’ve got a trial next week.”

“Fair point,” Eddie taps his fingers on your thigh, cheek pressing on your bicep. “How’re the little sheep doing?” he looks up at you. “Sinclair? Especially what happened with Max.”

“His parents made me watch him the other day when you were with Dustin,” you rest your head on his, looking on the dark ground. “He’s been reading books to her. And I took Erica back to their home and hung out because God knows how she feels after getting attacked by one of Carver’s acolytes.”

“Wait what?”

“I didn’t tell you?” he shakes his head, worry creased on his forehead. “They found us. Lucas got beat up pretty bad but Jason lost. Max – I was there. I watched it happen while I was trying to fix her player but, somehow like a fucking miracle she survived. Barely,”

“But he shot you,” his cold palm rests on the spot just beneath your sleep shorts – a gauze covers the hole from the bullet Jason put through your thigh. Eddie traces the tapes that secure the bandaid. “I didn’t even get the chance to ask you what happened-”

“Hey,” you take his face into your hands. Eddie looks like he’s about to cry, unneeded guilt overwhelming his bruised chest. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, okay? And – and I want you to know that I don’t care if you didn’t ask me because-…I just want you to be okay.”

“But we’re going to talk about it, right?” he gathers your hair into one shoulder. Eddie’s liberating eyes know any lie you let out would be injudicious, and so you know you won’t be able to sugarcoat anything that happened to you when he was away, therefore you worry you won’t be able to ease his remorse when you tell him what happens.

You decide that the best you can ameliorate him is levity. “Yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Eddie smiles. He leans in to kiss you – a saudade satisfied in a galore of communicated emotions from a disaster. His warm lips inebriate you, pushes your worries away into the gate that surrounds Hawkins. Vecna’s got your souls corroded, but with shared trauma prosed into a promise of healing together, you don’t mind a damaged soul that’s tethered to his.

“You’re a hero, Eddie Munson,” you repeat, finger running along his healing jawline. “And if everyone doesn’t see that, remember that I do.”

“I’m gonna keep you forever,” Eddie offers you a cathartic smile; a smile so pretty and so Eddie.

“Just don’t do anything stupid again.”

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mayiwritesomething · 29 days

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Love is an Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 9 - Final)

Wordcount: 2,7 k

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

A/N: Hi guys, thank you all for following this series that was quite fun to write. But like everything in life, we’ve got to the end of it haha

Don’t want to give any spoilers about it, besides the fact the reader cries listening to Arctic Monkeys (who has never?), the only thing i’ll say is that we have a quite happy ending, and I hope you like it 💖

I’m thinking about writing some more one shots about them, should I?

>MASTERLIST

———-

Home

The next day was a battle. Your head felt as heavy as lead when you woke up, unsure if it was from the two shots of whiskey or the tears you shed the night before. As you faced the breath of sobriety, you noticed missed calls from Jennifer and Colin.

Upon opening the group chat with the girls, you were met with a flood of messages and chaos. Some were concerned about you (you couldn't even recall the tear-filled voice messages you sent from the hotel), while others were hurling insults at Pedro, and the sober part of you felt bad reading those.

Scrolling through the messages, you came across a selfie Jenny had sent: she and Colin acting silly in front of the elevator mirror with the caption, "Colin says hi!" Despite your own misery, you couldn't help but feel happy for them. After all, you had been shipping these two for years.

As you continued scrolling, a notification from Colin popped up: “Forgive me now. Thank me later.” You were too miserable to comprehend what he meant, so you began tidying up your things to distract yourself. The need to immerse yourself in music to navigate through your cathartic moment and move forward grew stronger. With one month left of shooting, you couldn't afford to be unprofessional.

Opening your suitcase, you discovered one of his sweaters that you had planned to return to him if he were there now. Your Life Sucks playlist transitioned to Arctic Monkeys, and you found yourself lying on the bed, crying and singing, "Do I wanna know? If these feelings flow both ways... Sad to see you go. Was sorta hoping you’d stay…" Through sobs, you muttered, "Oh, my friend Alex... I'm so pathetic, oh my god," as you chuckled at your own disaster.

Still reclined on the bed, time slipped away unnoticed as an 80s ballad filled the room. Suddenly, the doorbell pierced through the melody, jolting you from your reverie. Rapidly, you silenced the song and glanced in the mirror, ensuring you didn’t look like a panda before rushing to answer the door. Why had Jennifer shown up unannounced?

Swinging the door open, you exclaimed, “Hey, early riser! What the fuc—Pedro?” Confusion swirled as you tried to comprehend how he found your place. Jenny wouldn’t have given your location, knowing your temper all too well.

“Hi,” Pedro mumbled sheepishly, “could we talk?”

“Firstly, how on earth did you find me?” You inquired, a mix of curiosity and annoyance evident in your tone.

“I had some help from your Irish friend,” he confessed, scratching his head trying to find the right words—a habit you found quite cute. “Oh, and I brought you some coffee— if you're up for a chat,” he added, his embarrassment palpable.

“Well, I suppose we both have things to discuss,” you conceded, feeling remorse for the events of the previous night but determined to clarify things.

“May I come in?” he requested.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, ushering him inside. He handed you a cup of Colombian dark coffee, your favorite, with a simple "thank you" from you. The atmosphere was oddly civil, considering the circumstances. Though no words had been exchanged yet, it was evident that both of you had let your guard down for the first time.

“Where do we begin?” he asked, his eyes betraying traces of recent tears.

“From the very beginning, where we both feigned indifference and claimed it was merely a casual thing with no strings attached,” you responded, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

"Wow, that was sharp," he quipped with a shy smile.

"Oh no, I'm just trying to be nice, given the circumstances," you remarked ironically.

"Can we just skip this teenage back-and-forth?" he asked, a hint of seriousness in his tone this time.

"Of course, dear. You've done nothing wrong, so you can ask for whatever you want," you said, settling into one of the armchairs in front of him, struggling to contain your sarcasm.

"I'm serious. Let's act like the adults we are. I know I've messed things up, but you're not a saint either, okay?" His Aries pride sometimes grated on you, despite how much he cared.

"Fine my love" you said, unable to hide your sarcasm, a defense mechanism he hated. "You show up at my hotel room uninvited; bring me coffee like we’re all good right after; firstly, treat me like a piece of meat the last time we had sex..."

"I was drunk. I know that's not an excuse, but—"

"You will let me finish before you dare to speak," You were on the brink of losing your composure, and he on the other side kept silent as you continued. "You have no idea how terrible I felt that day, and I still feel actually. And secondly, making assumptions? How many times have I talked to you about my friendship with Colin? I've never questioned any of your friendships—except for Kate, of course, which had my reasons to, and you know it " you chuckled to yourself before growing serious. "I have no problem admitting my mistakes. I provoked you by calling you a friend, which I know upset you. But it all traces back to our last night together. You seemed distant, like I was pressuring you into something you didn’t want to. I don't want to force you to do anything. I understand you have your own struggles, but I want you to understand mine as well." He was paying attention to your words, tears welled up in your eyes as you added, "What the hell are you so afraid of, dude?"

He was silent, but it wasn’t like he was throwing a tantrum; it was more like a kind of desperation, a fear of saying something he felt he shouldn't. “Pedro, talk to me,” you asked firmly. “There is no right or wrong answer; I just want to understand you, and I want you to understand me.”

He finally faced you, it was clear that he was searching for strength to spit it out. He finally said: "I’m afraid that you'll also leave me someday," his voice quivered, his hand trembling. He was visibly anxious. "I said those things to hurt you before you hurt me... because every time things start to feel right between us, it feels too good to be true, you know? I feel, i don’t know…like I don’t deserve it. Throughout the years, whenever I felt it was the right time, everyone…just… they just… left. So why should things be different now?" He held back tears as he gazed at you. "I wanted to be the one to walk away, not the one left behind," he confessed, searching for the right words. "But I… I can… I can’t just walk away from you, and that terrifies me."

You could sense his struggle, and despite your own issues, you were willing to give it a chance to make things clear. Seeing how difficult it was for him to express himself, you decided to do as you had suggested to him earlier: listen.

He continued, "While I want to be close to you, I fear you'll be my downfall. And it fucking hurts baby, it really does hurt. It's not that you're like a bad person, it’s the complete opposite, you're so fucking amazing." Tears streamed down his face as he faced you. "It's a kind of paradox that I can't escape... and you're like a calm presence amidst this chaos. Somehow, I don’t know... You manage to navigate through it… Despite your own issues and fears, you remain unafraid. I wish I could be like that. So I wouldn’t fuck things up and—“ he started crying nonstop.

"Hey..." You rose from your chair, for the first time, witnessing his true and raw vulnerability, a rare sight compared to your usual dynamic. While he was typically uninhibited, you tended to be much more reserved. Kneeling in front of him, you gently grasped his trembling hands, urging him to trust you. "Pedro, please look at me," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "Please... just look at me."

"I never meant to hurt you the way I did yesterday. I don't know why I—" he said through sobs.

"Shh, don't speak. Just try to listen," you interrupted, wanting him to find peace. You sought calmness, knowing you handled emotions differently from him.

"I never thought I could feel these feelings ever again—you appeared out of nowhere and… and… disrupted everything I've spent years building." He said it through sobs.

"By that, you mean the walls you've put up around yourself?" You questioned calmly, meeting his gaze. He nodded, tears glistening in his eyes again. Gently caressing his face, you offered reassurance. "I can't judge you. Somehow, you've managed to break down the walls around me as well. Even though you're quite different from anyone I've been drawn to before, you know?"

"What do you mean?" he inquired, trying to understand your words.

"You’re different from everything I’ve experienced—you're a friend, a caring listener, kind, intelligent, humble, funny, a bit stubborn, someone who admires and respects others," you began, opening up. "You're like a ray of sunshine after a storm, embodying everything that I am not."

"But… Why are you saying this?" he pressed, his expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and emotion.

"Because I want to do things differently this time.” You needed to say this. “I’m tired, you know? Not tired of you, I mean, in life in general… I’ve always been the one who kept my needs stored in a little box, waiting for the right moment to show them, and there is no right moment, man…There's no need to waste time hiding our true intentions, no desire to inflict or endure unnecessary pain like we both did to each other," you confessed, laying bare your intentions. “By the way, I’ve spent thousands of dollars in therapy all these years; I must make them worthy,” you added, trying to lighten the mood.

You felt his body relax under your touch, his tension easing. Continuing to stroke his hair, you remarked softly, “I never thought you were this fearful, Pedro. I am afraid too—all of this is new to me… I don't want to lose you or even walk away. But we need to take this leap together; we'll never know unless we try.”

“But... but I really don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“There's no magic formula here. We were great friends before; now, we've added kissing and sex—amazing sex, I must add,” you quipped, eliciting his first chuckle.

“The way you put it makes it sound so simple,” he observed, visibly lightening up.

“Because it is. We've been seeing each other for months now. Our mistake was pretending it was casual when, deep down, we both knew it wasn't,” you emphasized. As he nodded in agreement, you continued, “Right from the start, we were both scared, hiding behind a facade of indifference like ‘oh cool, I like having sex and spending time with you’. —I care about us, about being with you, the real you. You can be honest with me, Pedro.” You needed to hear this from him. “Do you feel the same way?.”

“ I do. I want to be with you.” He said it once again, trying to find the right words. “You are everything that I always wanted. You are fuckin brave, fearless, wise, and a strong leader with a compassionate heart. You care for people’s wellness, command respect while remaining approachable,sexy as fuck…” You laughed at the small detail. “And you make me feel safer whenever I'm with you—sometimes I wish we had met before," he declared, now cupping your face in his hands.

"Things happen when they're meant to happen, Pedro. Remember how we first met in person? The fucking disaster," you remarked, chuckling softly as you held his hand that cradled your face. "Game of Thrones guy," you added with a smile.

“You should’ve seen your face the moment you saw me,” he chuckled. "Who would have imagined that nearly a year later, we'd be having this conversation?" he pondered.

"Definitely not me," you laughed.

Remaining in your shared moment, you both locked eyes for a few seconds. The tears had dried, and the silence was eventually broken by his whisper, "I'm sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I was an asshole—"

"It was a series of missteps from both sides," you murmured back, drawing closer to him. He instinctively drew you nearer, allowing your breaths to mingle. "Do you want to give us a chance? To try and make things right." Your voice was a gentle caress, melting into the air.

"I do, baby. I really do," he affirmed, cupping your face as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. The weightlessness you felt after sharing your emotions made this kiss unlike any other; it wasn't a band-aid for past fights but a kiss brimming with genuine emotion. The way he held your face while you grasped his hand, the delicate touch as he guided you to sit on his lap. "I've missed you," he confessed, gazing into your eyes as his hands traced a path from your shoulders to your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've missed you too," you murmured between kisses. "Well, I mainly missed your body a bit more, if you catch my drift," you teased.

"Are you going to bring that up every time now?" he chuckled, drawing you closer. "I know, that was terrible. I’m sorry."

"Oh, you bet I won’t forget this easily," you agreed playfully.

"Baby?"

"What is it?" You said.

"Don't you think the bed would be more comfortable?" You could feel him on you, so you knew exactly what he meant.

"Yeah, I think... I will start to have cramps in a minute too, I can feel it," you joked.

"And you're the younger one here," he retorted.

"Well, we both know I’m far from young, but at least my back is holding up well," you bantered.

"Fuck you," he countered, lifting you up as he stood to take you to the bed.

"Actually, it's you who's supposed to fu—"

Before you could finish, he silenced you with a kiss. "I'll take care of that," he assured, his lips grazing your neck before returning to yours. "And I'll take my time until you're begging for more," he promised, his laughter mingling with yours. “As you aaaalways do,” he added.

“I like the idea,” you answered, as he now had your shirt lifted and was tracing kisses all over your sternum. As your fingers ran through his hair, he came back to kiss you.

"Baby,” he said, hesitant as you just hummed in response. He then continued looking into your eyes and asked, “Are we like a ‘we’, like me and you?”

"Yes, we are baby,” you said, smiling. "Yes, we are.”

“I’m not saying that just to say, ok?”

“Okay”

“But I want you to know that i…well… i kind of... I… I mean….” he struggled to find the word.

"I love you too," you giggled. "And can you believe I'm the hedgehog here?"

"You're totally a hedgehog; there's no doubt about it, even after all this time," he grinned. "And you, well, you're a real firecracker." He playfully traced your lips with his fingers, making you grin back at him.

"Te amo," he said, hugging you close as you gave him a soft kiss. It was the first time you both felt a new kind of connection, like finding a comfy spot, just like home, that felt just right. After all this time, something you both tried to find was already there, it just took some time for you to see.

Love wasn't just a word for passion; it was a mix of little things that went beyond the butterflies and excitement of seeing each other. These were things you both naturally did even when you were just friends, and it felt pretty amazing.

“And I thank you for bringing me here

For showing me home, for singing these tears

Finally, I've found that I belong here”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro x reader #Spotify

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foreverdolly · 2 years

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would it be a sin? | austin butler x fempresley!oc

part one

pairings: austin butler x fem!oc

word count: 3,422

summary: austin is over the moon about getting the lead role in the up and coming elvis biopic, but he's beginning to buckle under the immense pressure. there's a fine line that had to be drawn between himself and elvis presley, but it's beginning to blur as the days go by. when austin is introduced to lisa-marie's daughter, it's love at first sight. he's terrified of blending work with pleasure, but it's getting impossible to deny his heart.

warnings: mild cursing and fluff- the mouthwatering smut comes later.

notes:i wanted to start this first chapter off by saying that all of this is a work of fiction. i will be talking about things that are personal to both austin butler as well as the presley family, but i will be doing it with the utmost respect. this first chapter is tame, but there will be smut as well as the mention of the loss of family members through unfortunate circumstances in future chapters. the topics of drug use and death will not be romanticized or sensationalized in any way. if you have any requests for one shots for austin!elvis or austin butler x reader, please feel free to ask!

masterlist | requests are currently open for business !

Austin, most days, no longer felt like himself. It was hard to differentiate where Austin started and Elvis began. Over the months of nonstop research and dedication, the two of them melded together somehow. Who was who? He didn’t know anymore. Couldn’t really remember, either.

Austin wasn’t just playing a part in a film anymore. It felt too real. Too dangerous. It was bound to all get worse before it got better. When Baz officially calls it all a wrap and shuts off the cameras for good, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He was already flailing, trying to get a grip on things. . . on life. His long term relationship of nine years had ended towards the very beginning of the project. He had just cut and dyed his hair and had thrown himself into his art. Maybe it was his fault that things ended, but he didn’t regret it. Not even for an instant; no matter how horrible that may sound. Working on the movie had made it an easy transition from living everyday life with a long term partner to suddenly being single and alone. He had hidden himself away in his new flat in Australia. Due to Covid he rarely had any visitors. He had been able to sort out his own feelings back then. He took the time to really sort through his emotions and wrap his head around things.

His ex had been a major part of his life. She had helped to mold and shape him into the man that he was today. Austin had learned what he liked and didn’t like in a relationship. He learned how to be patient and how to properly care for a woman. She would always be an essential part of who he was- but as a building block. She had been an essential stepping stone. That first relationship had acted as his training wheels- but Austin knew how to ride now- so it was natural for him to take them off. So he had.

He mourned the relationship for a few short days, but the tears didn’t last for very long. He had ripped off the band-aid, and there was something oddly cathartic about it all. He felt better than he really had in years, and it was because things felt right. He had been resolute in his decision, and though he knew that it had been painful for her, she had agreed with him on all points. All that they had ever known was each other, and towards the five year mark, that had been the only thing that really kept them together. Familiarity and comfortability had been the glue that kept them stuck in that odd state of limbo. Austin stopped thinking about marriage and children as the years ticked by with her. He had stopped planning out their future. Instead they seemed to live day by day, making excuses to themselves and loved ones whenever anyone pried or if they tried to do any serious soul searching.

The call where he had ended things had only lasted fifteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds. He had kept things simple- sugar coated some things so that they would be easier for her to digest- and waited for her reaction. There had been tears. He could hear them, but she understood. He could tell that she agreed, and maybe that had been the hardest part of it all for her. The realization that they had been clinging onto each other for dear life, all while knowing that they weren’t the ones for each other. Change was a terrifying thing, and so they had ignored their own feelings and desires, hoping that eventually it would fade out.

Austin’s true feelings never flickered out though. They had stayed, and with it came the doubt. Then the decision.

He had told himself that he wouldn’t date for a while. He needed to dive head first into his project, and he couldn’t have any distractions. For a time that was exactly what he had done. He had put so much pressure on himself to do well that he found it hard to think of much else. He lived and breathed Elvis. For four long months there hadn’t been much else. It had been a lot to get used to for his friends and family. For the first couple of weeks, his sudden change of accent had been shocking for them. His father had been the most worried about it. He was scared about what would happen after they finished everything. Austin had assured everyone that he wanted the accent to feel natural to him, and that he had just chosen to take a more method approach so that he could fully immerse himself into the project.

These days, he had trouble remembering what he sounded like before they started filming. That was terrifying. He felt his grip on reality shifting. He was losing an uphill battle, because if he was going to be completely honest with himself, his mental health had never been all that great.

It was the day after that self realization that he had sought out personal advice, going to Tom Hanks in the hopes that he’d help to ground him. The man’s words had been simple, yet crucial. He needed to take time for himself. Not Elvis. Austin.

Austin had ordered a book later that night that reminded him of his years in high school. He had been forced to read it for an essay, but had found himself unable to put it down. Every night that week he curled up on the couch and read The Great Gatsby. Instead of feeling like somebody else completely, in those moments he only felt nostalgic. The line between Austin and Elvis had slowly been carved, no matter how faint.

But then she came along.

It had been a regular day on set, and a particularly hard one at that. After all of the karate lessons, dialect coaching, and dance classes the man was absolutely exhausted. He didn’t have too much left in him to give that day, and he was excited to crawl back home and fall asleep under his weighted blanket. He had moved to stand behind the camera, one of the crew member’s playing a scene back for him so that he could see exactly where he had gone wrong. Rather than moving his hips while he performed, he had been using his knees instead. He was hurting badly because of it, and it didn’t look the same. It didn’t look right. His mood had soured instantly, his blue eyes narrowing on the small screen as he took a step closer, watching his footing again and again. “Play that back one more time for me.” The crew member started to wind the shot back, but Baz had stepped in, his arm wrapped tightly around an unfamiliar figure. Austin was in no mood to meet anyone or exchange niceties with any of the extras. Not today at least. Today he was feeling majorly self conscious, and it was bleeding into his attitude.

“We’re about to wrap up for the day, so I wanted you to meet someone.” Austin wanted to groan. To ruffle his greased up hair and throw an absolute fit. The entire Presley family were eventually going to see the film, and he was letting them down, he just knew it. He was letting everybody down by this performance. How the hell was he supposed to smile and play nice? Austin turned on his heel, wishing that he had mastered the art of the fake smile over the years he had spent in Hollywood. He was good at acting, but he had the inability to be fake.

He turned on his heel, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue slacks before eying Baz. The older man gently pushed the mystery woman forward, motioning with his head in her direction. Austin let his eyes focus on her in the dim studio lighting. He found himself instantly regretting everything. His initial expression, his inability to properly execute today’s scenes, the fact that he had eaten garlic hummus with his lunch that day- all of it.

Oh god, it was almost as though the world had shifted beneath his feet. His heart jumped up into his throat, his hands began to sweat, and he found it nearly impossible to function. All words escaped him. The only thing that left his lips for the first few seconds was a breathy huff, his blue eyes locking on her small figure. She was short and compact, daintily made in a way that made his protective instincts flare. Her hair was dark against the bright colors of her dress, the contrast a bit shocking. The first thing he noticed were her large eyes- so bright and so very blue. Then she smiled at him. The words weren’t the only thing to escape him. So had the ability to breathe. If Baz noticed the man’s reaction, he didn’t say anything. Instead he took the opportunity to fill the silence, gesturing between the two of them.

“Austin, this is Elliot. She wasn’t able to meet you back when we had the original luncheon with the rest of her family.” His reaction was delayed as he tried to piece together exactly what his director was trying to say.

It wasn’t until she reached her hand out towards him that it finally registered. “You’re related to Priscilla then?” He felt stupid the second the question left his lips, and he couldn’t help but smile nervously as he reached out and took her small hand in his, giving it a couple of shakes.

Thankfully she found humor in his reaction and laughed, and though the busy studio overshadowed the gorgeous sound, it reverberated in his ears nonetheless. “I’m one of her granddaughters. Lisa-Marie is my mother.” Austin’s eyes really honed in on each one of her dainty features. Her small pointed nose, her warm smile and bright blue eyes. He felt embarrassed that he didn’t instantly recognize her. It was almost as though he was shaking hands with Priscilla back when she was in her twenties. The resemblance was uncanny.

“That’s it for today people! You all did great!” Baz called out, the bright lights shutting off loudly as the cameras were moved out of position. Elliot stumbled out of the way, moving to Austin’s side so that extras could begin making their way off stage and to the dressing rooms. She lingered by his side, her arm gently brushing against his as cast and crew filed past. A few people looked in their direction, staring a little too long as they tried to decipher just who she was and what they were doing together. “I got here about thirty minutes ago, so I saw the last few takes.” She explained.

Austin pinched the bridge of his nose, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. Of course she just so happened to show up today of all days. He had been off of his game all day long. “You were dazzling.” His eyes flickered open so that he could stare down at her, his mascara coated lashes brushing against his brow bone as he watched her expression carefully. He raised an eyebrow dubiously at her, completely unbelieving of the sweet sentiment. She threw her hands up in surrender, her smile widening.

“No, no. I’m serious, Austin. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. It was surreal.” He had been getting a lot of positive feedback as of late, but he still wasn’t used to it. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face as he stared down at his feet, raising his hand so that he could nervously rub at the back of his neck.

“Well that means a lot comin’ from you.” He felt like an idiot talking to her in the accent, but he was already neck deep in it. He was positive that he couldn’t turn the voice off even if he tried.

“Baz is incredibly proud of you, by the way. He kept telling me about how dedicated you are to playing this part, and it really shows.” Elliot would never know how much her words meant to him. Today, of all days, he really needed to hear those things.

The fear of getting it all wrong kept him up most nights. Last night had been incredibly hard for him. The anxiety was eating him alive. He hadn’t even been able to keep down his breakfast this morning, his nerves getting the best of him. “One of my grandfather’s biggest fears was people dehumanizing him. Everyone has turned him into more of a character and less of a man. He wanted to do something important with his life- make an impact, you know? Your performance felt human.” The woman was quick to reach out, placing her warm palm against his sleeve. Her fingers wrapped around his arm, giving him a few quick squeezes. Austin wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him or comfort him. Either way, she was handling him with a sort of softness that he wasn’t used to.

The actor could listen to her talk all day, he was positive. There was something about her voice that made his muscles untense and his mind quiet. It was soft and melodic, and if it wasn’t the kindness in her eyes that made him melt, then it was certainly the gentle way that she spoke to him that did the trick. Austin was certain that his knees were quivering beneath him. “I want to pick your brain,” He spoke up before he had time to second guess himself. “Would you like to have dinner with me? If you have other plans, I completely understand. Just thought it would be nice, is all.”

The girl shook her head, her dark locks falling off of her shoulders with the movement. For a second he was scared that he was being rejected, but she motioned towards the door with a sweep of her hand. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He let out a sigh of relief, a nervous laugh bubbling up and out of his throat soon after.

“Just let me go get changed, okay? It will only take a minute.” He had to remind himself not to run through the studio, his heart pounding in his ears as he closed the door firmly behind him. He had been terrified out of his mind whenever he had met Priscilla and Lisa-Marie for the first time. He had called Baz the night before, hoping for some sort of guidance. The director had become more of a mentor over the last couple of months, and he was hoping for some kind of a pick-me-up. Despite his constant words of nonchalance and encouragement, the anxiety lingered. He carried it in the pit of his stomach the next afternoon, and it didn’t ease throughout the entire luncheon. Austin wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to eat, but he had scarfed down way more than he was used to consuming. He went home with sweaty palms, an overactive imagination, and a stomach that was packed to full capacity. This felt oddly similar, but different at the same time.

This wasn’t a date, but Austin couldn’t seem to get the point across to the rest of his body. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath, reaching for the hanger so that he could neatly begin taking off the outfit. He took the time to make sure that everything was hung up to Catherine’s liking before grabbing his leather duffle bag, pulling on his clothes like a mad man. He had worn a pair of light washed jeans and his favorite pair of brown boots to the studio this morning. He had spilled coffee on his shirt early in the afternoon, so Catherine had given him a spare white tee to wear home. He made a mental note to thank her whenever he saw her in the morning. Clearing his throat he moved closer to the mirror, taking a look at his hair that had been slicked back hours ago. He ran his fingers through it, trying his hardest to disarrange the hairstyle, but it only made his hair look dirty. With an exasperated groan he used his fingers to put it back into place, taking a step back to look at the eyeliner that had been dragged over his top lash line. He had half the mind to try and rub it off as well, but he knew that he’d only make himself look like a raccoon, what with the mascara on his top and bottom lashes.

This entire situation was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Here he was, giddy over the potential of getting to know her better, all while dressed like her grandfather. The humor of the situation was lost on him. Instead he rubbed his large hands down his cheeks, letting out an aggravated groan. He felt like he was in high school all over again. He hadn’t been this nervous about a girl in. . . well. . . - now that he thought about it, had he ever been this nervous over a girl? He hadn’t been single since he was twenty-one. He had been fresh out of high school, and the only dates he had been on prior to his ex had been double dates that his guy friends had coerced him into. He was nearly thirty years old, acting as though he was still in his twenties. He felt ashamed.

Austin braced either of his hands on the dressing room counter, staring up at himself through his lashes. He had rather liked the dyed black hair, but he suddenly felt ridiculous standing there in the mirror. He had to go ahead and set himself up for disappointment. If he didn’t try, then there would be no chance of rejection. He needed to go ahead and dash whatever fantasies were floating around in his brain before they got the better of him, because how embarrassing would that make things for him? He wouldn’t just be friendzoned, he would be grandpa-zoned. Elliot saw him as one of the men tasked with telling her family’s tragic story. This was important to her, he could tell. This dinner was going to be nothing more than two potential friends talking with one another. It was going to be a great opportunity for him to hear rather intimate stories about the legend, passed down to her by the only woman that really knew the true Elvis. After a few deep breaths he stood up, brushing his hands over his shirt a few times before heading out the door. The overhead studio lights had been turned back on, a few of the crew members still lingering around as they taped wires to the floor, readjusted certain lights, and readied themselves for tomorrow's busy schedule.

Elliot’s back was to him, so he took the opportunity to get a better look at her. Her dress was a seventies style slip dress that brushed against her upper thighs. Her short dress and calf high boots made her look a lot taller than she really was from where he was standing. Of course he had seen her up close, and knew that she was well below his chin. Both her mother and grandmother were on the shorter side, so he wasn’t surprised. Her hair, which he hadn’t gotten a very good look at when the two had first been introduced, was incredibly long. It cascaded down her back in loose waves, ending right at her hips. Austin didn’t allow himself to stare at her for too long, not wanting to get carried away. ‘Friends’, he reminded himself as he walked up to her. “Elliot,” He called her name to get her attention, his eyebrows furrowing when he noticed that there was something in her hand. She turned her head to face him, grinning ear to ear as she flashed him a pair of ivory white panties. She had her fingers looped into the waistband, and it didn’t take him long to figure out that she had stumbled across the prop by accident. She must have been laughing to herself for a little while. Her cheeks were slightly red from smiling. “Nice.” She said simply, tossing them into one of the crew member’s folding chairs before nodding her head towards the door. “Shall we? I’m starving.”

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klapollo · 2 months

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all jokes aside something i talk about a lot wrt being catholic is that the passion of the Christ really did always kinda strike me. when i was a kid sometimes i'd legit cry at the stations of the cross because seeing Jesus be beat down and mocked and struggling to carry the weight really upset me. the parts where He'd fall again and again in particular got me. like all that struggling almost made the part where He finally died kind of a relief. one of the most intense parts of Christian canon for me is when He's been nailed to the cross slowly and painfully dying for NINE HOURS at that point and He screams in pain asking why God (His dad!) abandoned him.

it just really sticks with me -- this idea that the person who is supposed to be an incarnation of God, also God's own child, a guy who knows He's going to die the whole time and who is in on the plan and knows He's coming back and that He's saving the world -- is afraid and wavering and feeling like God abandoned him. there have been so many times in my life where i felt like God was looking away and abandoning me while i was suffering and there's something oddly cathartic about the idea that Jesus Himself felt that. it really drives home the point that this is God ON EARTH, he's human and privy to human vulnerability and pain.

i feel like even if the Bible/Christian canon is just a book of myths and fictional spiritual legends to you it's a very compelling and haunting concept from even just a narrative standpoint

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my-castles-crumbling · 17 days

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hi cas!!

im gonna rant at you for a bit if you dont mind :)

Im a minor that lives in a super tight night, close minded community. Super religious, super homophobic transphobic ect. Seeing as im a teenage girl whose questioning their gender and is definitely attracted to women thats kinda problematic lols. Honestly idek how to explain the situation without a bunch of details, but basically, theres a fifty-fifty chance of me being sent to conversion therapy or just cut off from any internet access (and i mean ANY. i have a flip phone for fucks sake.)if my fam finds out im queer, i have no support system outside of some internet friends who know nothing about my situation, and within the next few years(so like once i turn 20ish, thats in like 4 years but whatever) my family is going to expect me to get married to a man and start popping out babies asap. Btw thats whats expected of me in this community, marriage under the age of 25, have like as many kids as physically possible and god forbid higher education. And im not okay with that . Ffs i want to go to college, major in fine arts, meet a person i like and fall desperately in love or maybe not just have a bunch of close platonic relationships i want cats and a dog and a cute studio in a big city where i can dye my hair whatever color i want aand get an obsene amount of piercings, i want to wear pants!! I just want to live. Without expectations or limits or people who love me hating everything they dont know about me. Is that truly so much to ask for?

And im incredibly dramatic cuz i literally have the dream life. My family loves me, my parents are upper middle class, theyve never hurt me before(besides for all the anti everything rants haha) i literally have a full sized bed, which for some reason i see as the peak of being spoiled idk why. I go to school, not even public, a private religious school that prob costs thousands of dollars, i have friends(who are all part of this community btw and id bet my entire savings that most of them think gay is only a word that ppl use to mean happy lol) close ones even!! I have adorable neices and nephews(my 3 sisters all were married by the age of 20, so i have 11 niecesand nephews while my oldest sister is 31) im living the dream life. But i hate it and i have no way out. No hope of college to get on my feet and find someway out, no people that'll help me fucking run away or some bullshit like that, hell ive considered it and then felt like shit, cuz what am i even running from? Im probably attracted to men it wont kill me to marry one. And i like kids, i wouldnt mind having any either. But.... i dont want to be trapped anymore. Cuz ill be honest thats what i am.if some one asked me to run away with them rn i would, no hesitation.

God im a mess😭😭 anyway this was me ranting in my notes app, im just apologizing for dumping this on a complete stranger(we're moots actually!!) albeit a very kind one :) i dont know what im looking for, but ill take whatever your comfortable giving ig.

I love and appreciate you<333

And hey this has been oddly cathartic so lmk if its okay for me to do this again sometime :))

"im living the dream life. But i hate it and i have no way out."

Hon, you're not living the dream life...there's a difference between financial privilege and being happy, you know? It's pretty clear that this isn't what you want.

I'm not sure if you're asking for my advice here, or if you just want to vent. But I care about you, and if you want me to research some things to try to help you, I'm more than willing to (that way it's not on your search history.) Just say the word!

Until then, you are ALWAYS allowed to vent to me.

I'm naming you venting anon in case you write again!

#ask #asks #ask cas #venting anon

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 9 months

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Can you share some snippet with restless, anxious Spider?

oh I can absolutely do that!

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His father grunted in response, then changed the subject. “How much more of your school work do you have left to do?”

Miles gave an awkward shrug. “Maybe, like, a week's worth.”

Pa smiled, “and then you’ll be a high school graduate.”

Miles forced a smile of his own. They don’t give diplomas to homeschooled kidnapping victims. He stilled in shock. The treacherous thought made him want to puke. His fingers itched to twist and tug on his curls but he resisted, keeping his hand pinned under his seat. “Yeah!” He said with fake enthusiasm. “Yeah it’ll be nice to be done.”

“What’ll you want to do next?” Pa said it so casually, eating his steak and potatoes as he talked. Miles' nerves spiked again. Was his father testing him? What was he supposed to say! He dropped his fork moving his right hand to join his left. His fingertips burned with the urge to pull. He leaned his entire body weight onto them, focusing on the pain.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it.”

His father raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? You don’t have a single thing you want to do with your life.”

Don’t lie. Don’t lie. Don’t lie. Don’t lie. Don’t lie…..he swallowed heavily. “Pa…. I don’t like this line of questioning.”

His eyes softened. “That’s okay son. You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

Miles forced another smile. “Thanks Pa.” He looked down at his food, his appetite completely gone. “Can I be excused please.”

His father appraised the contents of his plate. “Finish your food first. Then you can go.”

Just looking at the food made him nauseous but he soldiered through it, clearing his plate and leaving without another word. He tried to stay calm as he walked to his room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He grabbed a pillow off of his bed, then sank to the floor as tears threatened to fall. Why am I thinking like this? Life had been good. He had been happy. And nothing ever changed so he’d always be happy. Right?

You're gonna die here. Stop it. You’ll watch your father die here. Stop. And then you’ll be all alone, with no one to care about you, until you either waste away to nothing or kill yourself….

Miles gripped his hair in both of his hands and pulled as if that could rip the thoughts straight out of his head. It felt good. Cathartic. Feeling oddly detached, he opened his hands letting the torn out strands of hair fall to the floor. Then he curled in on himself, laying his head on his pillow. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay…….

#miles spider socorro #spider socorro #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #cabin in the woods #my fanfic

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northern-passage · 1 year

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playing as an amiable mc and finally getting to snap during that fight with duncan was oddly cathartic (also mc frantically trying to heal lea had me in significant distress so you win some you loose some)

i'm glad to hear that, that's definitely what i was going for! the hunter has never felt fully in control (due to their mother, the order, and now their illness), so letting go in that moment and fully losing all control feels very cathartic - if they can't control what's happening, then no one can, and while they'll regret it later, at least for a few seconds they felt liberated.

#until they scratch lea or jorah.....#but you know.#and ofc there IS something compelling them. but in that moment their ideals aligned and it felt like Their choice #ask #jiangchenggf #tnp spoilers #also i did get your other ask im just waiting a little while longer to answer it 👀

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fruit-salad-ship · 1 year

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Cute Roman AU thought. One of the gardeners that Peach talks to suggests planting something that she can care for, like an olive tree. Something that would grow with her as she grows more accustomed to her new life with Plum and Grey. Even better later when she can eat the fruits of her labor.

I dont knwo why Rome AU always gets SO out of hand writing wise. Im so sorry guys.

theres probably a billion spelling errors here, i scrambled to get this down, and have yet to read it back or check it over. so. good luck.

she started small, her days off were spent caring for the hot weather plants, her favorites were the lavender and herbs that left their earthy smell on her hands for hours if she's been working them. Its miles from the dirt and blood and sweat and grime of the pits, its clean and fresh and bright and she adores it, quick to volenteer to take any herbs needed to the kitchen if the task needs doing.

plum notices, of course she does, this is her newest and most damaged little repair project to date, and one shes become increasingly fond of. Peach currently lives in staff accomodation, admittedly more barracks with amenities, most staff go home after their shifts to actual homes and families, but peach is a permanent resident with her own room and key, a first sure, but perhaps she could do with something a little more...homely. So plum plans to move her to one of the guest houses, a small but homely space, no more sharing her room with others. Plum knows peach will be difficult about this, so asks her to accompany her to the guest house, one of several on her properties, to just help do it up a bit. A slight lie. It admittedly is one of the lesser used one, and a lot of furniture has been stored in there.

Its a dusty mess, some rats scamper out, the yard out back is overgrown, but its got good strong walls, roofs in perfect condition, keeps the rain out. Peach is the one to do the lions share, no way is this a Plum job, she didnt let her lift a single ipece of furniture, even though plum muddles about fussing with decorations and sweeping and such. By the end of the day the two have been cleaning and organising for hours, only really pausing to discuss what decorations to go with from the wide assortment of things stored there, peach finds it odd that Plum would make her choose, but her boss had a habit of trying to get her to show her opinions, so she tried to indulge. The space felt...cosy, little kicthen, a tall ceilinged living space, windows with lots of light pouring in. the log store was filled, cushions beaten of dust, debris swept out, and bed made, a bed with fine sheets of the softest cotton, a real luxury to someone who'd spent her life on stone floors and wooden benches. Peach found it oddly cathartic to sort the space, taking up her shield that'd been placed down to work, the space ready for future guests as she stood back taking it in.

A knock on the door pulled them both, seeing Grey stick his head in, expressing how nice it was in there now. In his hands was a plant, its roots wrapped in a sack so as to not spread dirt everywhere. He hands it to peach who says nothing, just takes it to hold, its her job after all, as he keeps snooping around with a jolly disposition. once returned he asks where she's going to plant that thing, to which Plum shoves him with her elbow to stop, and he gathers that the topic hasnt been brought up yet, immediatly shutting up. Peach just standing there, clueless, looking between them, this sappling in her arms, not daring to ask a question, it wasnt her place to do that. Plum kind of laughs, breathes, knows this will be less than painless, pulling a key from a pocket within her robes, placing it on the table.

You can see the realisation sink in, the cogs ticking as she explains that this place, his home, is now peach's, to do what she wants with, no more barracks, no more sharing space. its an outskirt space, no one ever uses it, and she believes its time this woman, who came to her so damaged and so skittish, had something she could feel truly proud of. Peach...doesnt understand. Tries to explain that she couldnt afford to buy it, is this maybe a house sitting gig until the real owners come home to it? perhaps....a joke? shes not too sure what constitutes a joke just yet, but this could be one??? they have to sit her down and clearly lay out that no ones coming for the building, theres a quarter acre around it thats hers to play with, that theres no repayment, no trick or trap, and if she leaves or moves, that it fall back to plum as her property. Until then, its in Peach's name. It's hers. No strings. Grey says the plant he brought was a house warming gift, apologising for runing the surprise with a laugh, it wasnt his intention.

Peach is left to sit in this space, still processing, the other two suggesting she move her things to here now her shift was over, they'd come back for dinner in a couple hours to celebrate the move with her.

Shes on the plush chair, sat with this plant in her lap, blinking hard as she looks around, unsure if she should move? if she can touch stuff, or like...what??? it takes a few minutes, well, half an hour, shes not sure what to do, but the plant needs water, its the one thing to spur her to move from her position, sat tightly wound, in a confused silence.

The garden was fenced off kind of, areas collapsed in on themselves, all long grass, the scattering of trees and rocky earth feeling very natrual. she stands in the kitchen doorway leading out to a cobbled area, what was once a clothesline fallen, holding that plant perhaps a little too tight without realising it, looking around with no clue at all what to do. Theres a well about five meters away from the house. Its a first step, having to rummage in the long grass to find the rope and bucket that would bring water up to her, dumping the plant in it while crouched in the sun. This had to be a joke right?

The pair return and shes sat out in the last minutes of sun on an old crate, just kind of staring off, only noticing them when they open the gate into the yard, sitting straighter, back on her best behaviour. Shes still in her work gear, her shift ended hours ago, but she sat in the armour this whole time, something Grey points out, adjusting how hes carrying a small crate of things, bottles and vegetables poking out from the top. She didnt realise, apolagising, so spaced out. Meanwhile Plums gone inside, a plate of ingrediants in hand, placing it down and noticing nothings been touched, and upon looking in the closet in the bedroom, none of peach's clothes are put in there, nothing of hers is here at all in fact. Peach is startled when her boss shouts out to her, asking why shes not got her stuff yet, unable to find an answer. What did she mean? like. her things? was she a stay in guard for this place or something?? It doesnt really click, but she can't argue as Plum grabs her hand and pulls her away from the place, Grey staying behind to start cooking up a storm. Peach is brought to the barracks, Plum nagging her to get out of her work gear, her days ended, its time to relax. But...if shes guarding the house surely shes got to be in work gear? After getting her back into normal clothes, the boss grabs an empty wooden box, going straight to the guards old room, placing it on the bed. Peach just stands there, not 100% sure why shes putting her books in there, or her little weird looking rock collection that lined the windowceil, or the spare dagger she kept under her pillow. She jumped to work when plum told her to start folding her clothes up and put them in the box too.

by the time the pair were walking back, the wreath peach made around her neck, placed there to carry it hands free by Plum, all her things in this wooden crate, wandering back in the low light of the creeping night hours, boss with a simple vase in her arms that she'd gifted her companion a while back now, stopping occasionally to pick a bit of grass or flower, adding it to the pot. each pause made peach stop, look back at her, try not to feel...nervous? her stomach turned, she didnt know that feeling, it was like nerves, but something was off about it.

The little house's chimney gently let smoke waft away, the light of candles and fireplace strangely inviting to the fighter, entering the space after her boss, seeing Grey turn to welcome them in once more, glad to see Plum pushing the big dope to the bedroom to unpack. Even while placing her clothes in the wardrobe there, a far finer piece of furniture, it wasnt sinking in, this felt like she was just some bit.

Grey and Plum watched from across the room as this huge woman, a usually daunting form sunk onto a couch, told to put her things where she wanted them, just kind of holding a bunch of rocks, glazed over, not sure what to do with them. even her posture looked timid, grey suggested she was just a little lost.

"She didnt have a room for years, then got a small space of her own and you saw how she was with it, everything taking up as little space as possible. And now she's got all this house to roam around in. Maybe she's just got too many choices to pick one?" A valid point, he'd been there where she was, he understood, though not to this degree, this was quite severe. Plum nodded, taking up a glass of wine as she approached the guard, watching her shift her posture again to seem more capable, not cowering or timid, back to guard mode. She'd break that behaviour yet, but for now, she sat, curled up close to Peach, her legs over the big womans lap, taking one of the rocks from her to look it over. She asked why it was special, tried to pry a conversation from her, pick something Peach could find words for, get the ball rolling. Slowly the woman managed to find a scentence, explaining its a rock that looks like the rocks from her home, dark, nearly a blackish purple. Plum kept choosing different rocks, each being placed on the table as peach told her of the reason she kept all of them one by one. 9 rocks, all odd, some sparkly, others a cool shape or from a place she got to visit and enjoyed. It seemed to calm her, enough to at least not sit so stiffly, though she was really taking up as little real estate on the couch as possible. It was just nice to be with Grey and Plum for her, the smell of cooking, the sound of them joking and laughing, it was nice. even if she was still a little lost.

That clueless nature didnt seem to leave Peach, not during dinner, not after while they drank and laughed, not when they all made it to the bedroom, nor when she woke up with them both there still fast asleep, creeping off in the morning to pace around the little living space. The sun poured in through a window, calling the woman outside, the kitchen door opening to reveal the start of a new day.

Her eyes caught birds on the janky fence, a couple fields over a few deer grazed, wind in the trees, and then finally, the shrub in the bucket that she'd forgotten about. Bare footed she slunk out through the long grass, into the light to pull it from the water, setting it down gently as she looked around, if she did put it in dirt, would it be nice to have it close? maybe she'd put it somewhere she can see it from a window...hypothetically speaking.

Thats where they found her, Plum woke to find the fighter gone and immediatly panicked, rushing to throw a robe on before tracing behind her clear path, the back door open, she always drifted towards the light, and sure enough there peach was, out in the garden carrying around this plant in a bucket. she'd put it down, look at it, tilt her head, then pick it up and move it, and repeat this many a time, sometimes returning to an original spot to try to decide. Grey soon found his way out, putting water on for morning tea, joining plum in the doorway watching her watch the once nervous guard plod around trying to decide just one thing.

You can only imagine peachs horror when Grey called her, realising she'd gotten caught up in such a stupid thing, putting the tree down and coming over immedaitly. He handed her a cup, herbal smells rising from it, something she sipped gingerly. They asked where she'd put it, and she waved it off, she was just being stupid, it didnt matter, it was wherever they wanted it, not her decision. a dismissive behaviour that once again needed to be confronted, Plum taking her hand and pulling her back out to the garden gently. Yet again, she had to explain this was hers now, she HAD to decide where to put it, it was no one elses choice. Peach clams up, doesnt know what to do again, giving no answer, retracting in on herself as best she could to be quiet and not say what she was thinking. A face Plum had grown use to translating, asking her to say it, just spit it out, whatever was going on in her head, Grey in the door enjoying the sun, hoping this would be easier with time, a quiet pain as he heard what came next. It hammered home an unchangable fate, one both he and Peach could not truly escape.

"I can't own this. I don't have any rights to do so, i've been property since I was a child. I can't find love, or have freedom, I can't marry, I can't own a home, I can't start a buisness, or sign contracts to even rent this place, or to try to improve what i've been handed in life, I can't make decisions or choices that matter. This is just...something that'll be taken away the second someone finds out. And then you'll be in trouble and it'd be my fault. I can't accept this, in another life maybe, and in this one i'm truly grateful for the thought, I can't even begin to express what it means that you'd go this far for someone like me." Peach pulls her hand away from plums grasp gently, feeling the pit in her stomach grow deeper, aching. "I'm just sorry, you both did so much and I cant repay the favour. Even if I can't accept this you both spent so much time and effort on it all, it was wasted and I can't fix that. Trust me I would if I could."

The options she had were limited, a constant cause of anger and frustration normally, but this time, Peach just felt sad, defeated, doing her best to not let her feelings creep in. Plum said nothing, turned and made her way along the overgrown path, out to the gate, trudging back to the house across the property, a look of fury on her face as she met another guard on duty and got escorted away, something Peach caused in her own mind. There was no way that wasnt her fault, only flinching slightly as Grey put his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her that it was ok, this wasnt her fault. He knew, he'd seen Plum this mad before, she was about to do something decisive with that look on her face.

Work was difficult, Plum didnt say a word to anyone, she stayed in her study, and seemed to have several people in to see her in the morning, and just as many in the evening, her guards being posted up by the doors outside, Grey passing by on occasion to check in, to which she seemed fine. still mad. Peach didnt meet her gaze for two days, didnt want to make it worse, trying to take up jobs that kept her well out of the way. That was untill she was called by name to the office. Plum left through the big doors as she turned from a hand full of men all sat in fancy robes, smiling sweetly as she got a brief moment to face the guard who had no clue what was happening, her back to the guests, gone was her anger, this time worry set across her features. She had a moment where the doors shut and it was just her, Peach, and two guards either side of the doors stood to attention.

"You need to be on your best behaviour." Said as Plum pulled the sheathed sword from Peach's belt, taking her shield with the other hand, handing them off to a guard to hold, before fixing her hair a little, pushing strands from her face, wiping dust from her cheek, pulling the short cloak on her back over her shoulders a little to mask the sheer strength of her. The warrior had no idea what was happening, Plum gesturing for her to follow her after tepping back to look her over once more. Reentering the room the girls were met with stern looks, Peach didnt feel comfortable, her eyes set on the floor, not at all ready to meet the eyes of any of these well dressed, clearly powerful men. They wore jewels and gold, fine silks, watching as Plum took up her seat back at her desk, Peach doing what she was told, staying quiet, by her side, stood back and to attention.

They discussed, some asked questions about Peach's time with her newest employer, others wished to have an account from the old owner, sadly discovered dead not too long ago. Without a second testemony they tracked to her long, prolific stint in the arena, she was well known, many had seen her fight, some even challengeing her in the streets when she worked in her new guard role, not that she ever took the offer to battle up. Her bouts were brutal, efficient, she fought like ten men and didnt hesitate when confronted with danger. more than half the men that sat discussing her had seen first hand how vicious she was with a sword in her hand. The conversation seemed critical, negative, they didnt once ask peach anything, all questions directed to her owner, who was giving nothing but shining responses to paint a better picture.

Peach was eventually freed to resume her shift, leaving her boss in that room with the small group, all still discussing, mostly at how dangerous Peach was. She took her sword back from the guard outside, shield on her back once more, feeling safer with the items on her person, thanking them for keeping them for her before leaving.

another two days passed by, Peach didnt know what to do or where to stay, every time her shift ended Grey would find her out in fields and gardens, trying to avoid going home, and every time he'd have to drag her back to the new residence, sitting her down, getting her talking and distracted from the stress of the situation until she'd admit defeat and rest up, usually on the sofa, and not the bed. She struggled to be in that thing alone, it didnt feel like hers to use without explicite permission from her boss. a boss she'd not seen since the weird meeting she was dragged into.

Finally, on the third day, Peach was called early into the main house, up a flight of stairs into Plums office once more. She said nothing, handing a wax stamped letter to the guard, a hand gesture encouraging her to open it. Plum watched the woman do as she was told, doing her best to read what was there. Admittedly she was improving, but some of the words were new to her, the purpose of the letter escaping her, looking back to her boss a little confused, watching as the elegant lady sat, writing something on parchment, gesturing for her to sit down at the table opposite her. The guard very carefully perched on a fancy chair, feeling out of place, putting the letter on the desk, an action her boss noticed and looked up at.

"You...read it right?" Peach nodded, and then sort of glanced away a little embarrased. "I dont know what its about, my names in there, but half the words were... I dont know what they mean." The slow blink of her boss and sudden laughter was a shock, somethign Peach felt was her doing, being dumb enough to cause someone to laugh was about right, sinking in on herself a little for what was probably stupidity. Plum realised what may have just happened and opened the letter up, coming around the desk. "What words, point them out and i'll explain." Trying to backtrack and get the purpose of this visit out in an educational way at least. Her little form stood so close, arm around peach's strong shoulders, watching her peer over to the paper and muddle through it once more. Several words were simply legal jargon, no wonder peach hadnt seen them before in those corny romance novels she would read, but the one that stumped her the most was one she'd probably never even been told exists, one she'd never once have seen writted down in her life thats for sure, people would have made SURE she'd not know this one.

"manumission." Plum said it out loud, watched Peach look back at it, parrot it back to her, clueless, waiting for the definition, the purpose of that one word. "It means you're free." The guards brow furrowed, reading and rereading the scentence, piecing together wether or not that was a thing you could do. The little woman didnt take her eyes off her, smiled sweetly when she looked back up at her still confused. "I appealed for your freedom the first day you came home but you had a pretty dangerous reputation so city leaders were cautious about just letting you go. The appeal got denied on several attempts... So this time I went about it a little differently." And by differently, Plum meant bribes, blackmail and gentle threats, to which Grey had been helping with in his free time. "I'm sorry it took this long."

"What?" Was all peach got out, feeling plum slip between her and the desk, directly ahead of her, taking both her shoulders firmly to focus her attention. "You're free. I don't own you. No one owns you anymore." Her grip was grounding, Peach needed that right now. Her quiet turned to involentary tears that she didnt notice falling, not a word from her, she didnt know what to say, or do, or feel.

Maybe she'd wake up and be back in the pits, but the touches felt real, and the arms that held her were warm, and the crying stung. Plum did not let her go, not for a second, she still fought for Grey, he was yet to be freed, but this time, she got lucky, picked the right city advisors who thought all women weak, they didnt see peach as a threat, her displays in the pit flukes, clearly set up shows for the masses. They had no idea just how dangerous she truly was, but youd not think it now, not while this big usleess lump of a woman sobbed uncontrollably, even when she tried to stop, it just wouldnt quit, not then, not when plum got her to sign for the property she could now legally own, not when she was given a contract to sign legally to be an employee of plums house, a few tears landing on ink and blurring the words. She didnt stop when she went back to work, trying to reel it in around the others. amongst them from what she saw it was only her and grey who had this fate handed to them, the others were people simply hired, living their lives. no one else carried such a burden, so telling them seemed pointless. She just did her job, and tried her best to stop crying. The tears made every guard around her nervous, she was always so stoic and calm. The youngsters rallied to her as support, trying to cheer her up with jokes, unaware that she didnt need cheering up, she was happier than she'd ever been. The older staff tried to pry it out of her in more subtle ways, find out if they could help, if they had someone to beat to a pulp for hurting her, a rare offer they didnt give her much due to the fact that she would happily fight her own battles. She laughs, it throws them all off as she thanks them for their concern, that shes fine, that shes better than ever. and finally, Grey. Her captain gets wind of the state shes in, his subbordinates coming to him to express concern, to ask that he checks on her to make sure shes ok. Its not like shes not working, shes just crying the whole time, so he wanders over to her post, approaching to the sound of sniffling and sobbing, caught off guard by laughter from her, she's at her post, patrolling as expected.

She hears him approach and turns, he doesnt expect the tears, even hearing them didnt prepare him, but the smile was what threw him the most. He immediatly goes to her with arms open, and she doesnt hesitate to take him up on the welcomed hug. A first, usualy tentative or at least hesitant before taking the offer he extended. Theres no words he can find that express just how happy he is to hear that all the hard work plum had put in, all the threats and bribes made, amounted to a success.

Plum watches from a balcony, can see them at the boarders near the gates discussing, unaware that behind walls and shrubs other staff watch on, all overhearing their conversation. She sees grey exclaim, heard his shock, his joy, peach is still crying luaghing, smiling, years of grief coming out, and in no time at all, the hidden staff are on them. Several guards, a couple of the house girls, one of the gardeners, a stable boy, all on them, one big group shout, cheer, all for that big dope who refuses to see that her place in the world is forming. People around her care, they're in her corner. Plum retires as the commotion dies down, a deep sigh of relief, that finally something has come of all the hard work she's put in to fix this.

It isnt hard to guess where the boss ends up by the late hours, creeping out into the dark to finally join Peach in the house she now legally owned, happy to see her off duty guard answer her knocks at the door, a drink already in her hand, hair down, as if she'd been having her own little celebration, looking a little red in the cheek. Plum is met by a smile, no stiff posture, no immediate retraction to straighten up and look ready for work, just the door held open, no words. Boss goes in, and doesnt come back out until the late morning, revelling in her guards day off with her, not even considering leaving that bed.

Peach plants that shrub Grey got her by the little wooden gate into the property, every day brushing past it with a smile. She can see it from her home, so even when it rains and shes in, she can look to it. The mark of freedom for her is a tree, one that seems to remind her that progress is often steady and slow.

#rome au #fruit salad #im not crying youre crying #brainrot

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bookwyrminspiration · 5 months

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what are your favorite scenes from each keeper book? you can skip some if you want ofc

This ask has haunted me; every time I try to answer it I draw a blank, but! I will figure it out. it would take a while to truly debate everything in each, so I'm going to take a page from Sophie and Fitz's cognate training book (neverseen) and go with what first comes to mind

book 1: This one's hard, maybe Sophie choosing Edaline and Grady to be her adoptive parents at the end? nothing in the first book really stands out

Exile: maybe the kotlcrew playing base quest at the beginning with the aurenflare. this is another difficult one

Everblaze: "Anyone who got close would surely notice that he was one buffed-out, armadillo looking grandma. But from a distance he appeared to be a sweet, albeit rather lumpy looking, little old lady" (442-443) I laugh my ass off every single time

Neverseen: Page 290, "The sound of Fitz's violent vomiting felt oddly appropriate as Sophie and Mr. Forkle paced in front of the common room campfire." no question, favorite line in the whole book that visual is so funny to me. they're having a tense argument/stand-off and there's just violent retching in the background my GOD i love it

Lodestar: This one's also difficult; maybe when they're at Alluveterre after Wylie was attacked and they walk in and Tam's reading. that's just such a lovely scenic image to me. Tam chilling reading. or maybe the sleepover. unsure.

Nightfall: the "I don't care about permanent damage" "yeah, I can tell" scene. such a satisfying argument. keefe always tries to fix things himself, so knocking him down a peg? cathartic. the dialogue flows so smoothly between them, so in-character, and ro hasn't become a huge pain yet

Flashback: WHAT IF I TOLD YOU I STOPPED PRESSING BUTTONS!!!! the line of all time, i literally start kicking my feet and grinning whenever I get there.

Legacy: Maybe the Lady Fos-boss scene? or the ability reset--I'm quite fond of any time Fitz is called Pretty Boy. though that's not the only reason that scene stands out. getting Tam back is up there, too, but Legacy is my least favorite book so. hard to pick

Unlocked: arsonist sophie my beloved <3. i think burning the archetype specifically was unwise, but the fire as a whole? love to see her pushing back and finding herself outside of who people want her to be

Stellarlune: The Cognate Inquisition, actually. yes they're in a rough place, but they're trying, and I appreciate the vulnerability and honesty it takes, even as it hurts. also this book didn't have a lot I personally enjoyed so it kinda won because everything else sucked

I have been debating over these for about an hour now, and I'm sure as soon as I post this I'm going to go ALAS! how did I forget [my favorite scene of all time]. but there are some solid ones here--the neverseen one is truly one of my favorites ever, i love the mental image

#kotlc #quil's queries #nonsie #as soon as you asked this I forgot what i liked about every single book ever #once i'm not actively thinking about it I might have better answers #we'll see!

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brighteststar707 · 8 months

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Also for the ask game!! I'd like to make it sound all fancy and smart like I'm an English teacher, but my brain is too silly for that

6 - Something I remember vividly from reading one of your fics: Is it weird that the first thing that came to mind is Jaehee with pigtails from the 'Hair' fic you wrote for her? It was such a domestic piece, but picturing myself playing with her little pigtails and watching her blush as I call her cute, is something I still remember very vividly, oddly enough. I love Jaehee!! And I love the way you write her to bits and pieces. Soft coffee wife, my beloved <3

7 - What made me the most emotional after reading: Telepathy. It's always going to be Telepathy. Okay, maybe not always, but it'll definitely remain up there even in the future. I'd say it's my favorite fic of yours, actually. Which is... honestly very surprising, because I don't get as effected by Jumin/V stories as I do with Choi twins or Rika, for exactly! I do get sad and it's interesting for me to see them explored in different ways, but I never really felt... all choked up about them, you know? Well, you took that and slapped me right across the face with the masterpiece that is Telepathy./pos The way you wrote down the slow and painful process of drifting apart from your best friend... God, it felt both cathartic and painful. Probably because it's something I've experienced first hand, very recently, at that. Telepathy is a fic that left me laying on my bed and staring up into the ceiling, just thinking about it for a good 15 minutes. And, you know what? That's my favorite kind of feeling after reading a fic. I love Telepathy. I will gush about for as long as it exists. Go read Telepathy, ya'll.

8 - What I like the most about your writing: Descriptive writing. Now, it's probably because descriptive is my personal weakest point (in my opinion), and I tend to always focus extremely hard whenever I read someone else use descriptive writing in their works to learn new techniques and memorize if it sounds good or not. Either way, God, do I adore the way you manage to just paint the exact image of what's happening as I read. It's not too much, and it's not too little. It's just right. If I would write up everything I vividly remember from your fics, this ask would get too damn long, but what's important is that I often remember the exact location. How it looked. How it felt. How it smelled. How a certain character was dressed. How their face looked. Whether it was warm or cold. What sounds there were. It's those tiny details that make even the simplest of your stories shine so brightly! They just... get stuck in your head like your favorite song. And I think that's just amazing <3

I don't know what I did to deserve this Mia!! I've been sat here reading this over and over and feeling all warm and fuzzy🥺 Please don't worry about trying to sound English teacher-y, you've conveyed everything here so well.

Soft coffee wife Jaehee! I've made it my personal mission to write her soft and happy because she gets to little opportunity to do that in the canon routes (and I love her to bits and think she deserves the world). I'm so glad the pigtails imagery stuck! She deserves her cute moments too!

The Telepathy love!!! I will always appreciate love for Telepathy, it's one of those fics that will also always be one of my favs because of the writing process and the relationship between V and Jumin. It's a wonderful surprise to hear that my writing had that effect on you, especially for a relationship that doesn't usually affect you that strongly. It's all I could ask for, really. I'm very sorry that you had to deal with the slow loss of a friend. It's a uniquely painful experience and I'm sending you a lot of warmth <3

The details of my stories sticking in your head like a song.... Oooh I'm going to need a moment, that's one of the nicest things anyone has said about my writing. Thank you, Mia.

#I have melted into a puddle and there I will stay #you're so kind I appreciate you so much #if you wish to play along I will be hopping into your inbox asap 👀#natasha-in-space

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local-fanfic-addict · 2 years

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Hi.. umm, can I request a Hurt/Comfort fic with Isildur x fem reader..

Perhaps Isildur return’s to Numanor from a sea trial, and his sister tells him that his (fiancé/Girlfriend or whatever) just lost her cat to illness, and he runs off to see her, and make sure she’s okay.

I’m sorry if this’s a bit specific..

My family just lost our kitten, he was barely a year old, This’s the second time we’ve lost a cat. (We’d previously lost one to stomach cancer a couple years ago. and now our baby to kidney failure.) I wasn’t able to be there to say goodbye to either of them. And it just.. it really hurts, ya’know..

(I am so sorry, anon! I wish I could give you a hug, the loss of a pet is harsh, and I share your tears. I hope you and your family see better times soon, and that this small writing can help. 💜)

Imagine

Fem!Reader x Isildur

{Isildur comforts you after the loss of your kitten.}

Notes: Hurt/Comfort, Loss of a pet, Feelings of loss, Feelings of hopelessness, No use of (Y/N)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sea had not been kind to Isildur that day, and neither had the Sail-Master, all but barking his sailors' ears off with orders and the odd sprinklings of threats. Needless to say, Islidur was thoroughly drained of his energy as he returned to the city, eager to return home to his father, his sister, and you.

As he left the ship, he was surprised to see you absent among the other people who came to welcome friends or family home, his father was attending to his duties as captain, so he didn’t expect to see him there, but you and Eärien frequently came to welcome him home from the sea.

He spotted Eärien through the mass of people, her eyes downturned and you, absent from her side. He felt panic rise and made his way quickly to his sister.

“Where is-“

“Her house. You need to get there right away… Her kitten. It’s gone…” Eärien’s voice betrayed her expression, a deep sadness held within, and Islidur could tell she was on the verge of tears.

He could only imagine what you were feeling without him, oh his poor fiancé… You had the biggest heart for that tiny kitten, and now you needed him and he hadn’t been there.

It didn’t matter how tired his feet felt, he ran the rest of the way to your doorstep, a gentle knock on the front door which took longer for one of your family members to open than usual.

His heart broke at what he saw.

You looked so distressed, so broken, sitting on a chair with your head in your hands, and shoulders trembling.

He crossed the room and was immediately in front of you, on his knees before your chair whispering your name as his own tears welled in his eyes.

“My light, my dearest- I’m so sorry…” He grasped your hands in his, bringing them down from your face. You didn’t look at him, so he placed his hands on your cheeks, the pads of his thumbs rough against your tear stained skin as he wiped your tears away as they fell.

That was it, you melted off the chair and into his arms, sobbing. All composure gone as he held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. His breath shuddered as you broke in his arms, holding you like you would break into a thousand pieces if he let you go.

“I- I didn’t… even get to- to say goodbye.” Your voice was barely a whisper, giving evidence to how long you had been crying as you all but sobbed the sentence.

You felt him grasp you tighter, constricting your lungs for a few seconds, though it was an oddly cathartic feeling.

“It’s okay, shhhh…. It’s alright. I know, dearest, I know.” Now his hand was tangling itself through your hair, gentle as he rubbed your scalp.

“I wasn’t there for- He- I can’t-“ You couldn’t even say what you wanted to say, your voice getting caught in your throat alongside your tears.

“I’m so sorry… I know you loved him. And I know you cared for him.” He released you from his grip and held your head in his hands again, bringing his lips to your forehead.

“You gave him the best life while he was here. Food, shelter, a loving family… He lived a good life.”

He could feel your shoulders tremble, your eyes struggling to hold his gaze as tears continued to blur your vision.

“But- What if I… could have been- could have done better? What if- What if I didn’t do enough?!” Your voice rose slightly, a feeling of despair rising in your heart.

“Shhh… No, no, don't think like that. Don’t you think like that, now.” Your name falling from his lips, pleading for you to be alright.

“You did all you could, yeah? There’s no reason to dwell on the “What if’s” of this world. You’ll only cause yourself more heartbreak. Instead, think of all the good you did! The happy moments. Would those moments have happened if he had been somewhere else? Or with someone else?”

You shook your head no.

“Exactly. You were put into each other's lives for a reason.” He smiled.

“Then… Then why.. Why did he have to leave so soon?”

Your question threatened to spill new tears, such brokenness in your voice.

Isildur gave another kiss to your forehead.

“Because it was his time. And that, dearest, is something we could have never known, just as we cannot know our own time to leave. What we have to do is to treasure the time we had! And keep his memory in our hearts, for nothing is truly gone if it’s in here.” He placed one of his hands over your heart, and one over his own.

“Like in the darkest hours of the night, eventually, the sun will rise, and all will be bright again.” He wrapped his arms around you, and you both sat there, his hand rubbing circles into your back until your trembling resolved into sniffles, and your sniffles gave way to sleep.

#imagine #lotr rop #rings of power #the rings of power x reader #lord of the rings #isildur/reader #isildur #isildur x reader #BWCfic

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cookiesuga55 · 2 years

Note

[11] ~Fin~ Hi! I was initially going to request a prompt, but then the words escaped me >.< So, I guess I wrote a lil something for you (；^ω^）It's all yours! (I claim no rights to it) So, feel free to expand upon it or enjoy as is. I appreciate all the works you share with us <3 -A niny mouse

OH my goodness I was just gifted with the most beautiful lil story and I need to share it all with you <3

This makes my heart SO HAPPY that you shared this mini-masterpiece with me, and PLS DM me (if you're comfortable<3) so we can keep building on this story together @a niny mouse 🥹

And without further adieu- pls enjoy this lovely story--------

"Sugar Daddy!AU. A poor university student, JK envies the way his ex-roommates, Jimin and Taehyung, had successfully found good Sugar Daddies. It takes a little trial and error for Jungkook to find Seokjin, whose only idiosyncrasy appears to be wanting to see his sugar baby eat well. And honestly, given that his body is 90% ramyeon at this point, that doesn't sound too bad. And given how many hills he walks across campus, he's sure he would burn off the excess calories.

In general, Seokjin likes providing for JK. On the weekends which they spend together, Jin will cook hearty meals for JK in his luxurious city suite. He'll then get JK fitted for a new pair of clothes (while paying off the seamstress to log JK's measurements each time) and before dropping JK off at his apartment, will take JK out to a lovely dinner. Jin's care for him extends outside of those weekends though; paying for paying for a full-access dining hall meal plan, buying JK a car, and a generous bank deposit each week.

Jin's admiration and physical affection for JK is not subtle. In public, he'll possessively wrap his arm around JK's back, giving the cute love handle a little squeeze in his palm. He adores JK's chubby cheek; he's tempted to kiss them at any opportunity, but especially when JK smiles and accentuates his cheek bones. And whenever the two are snuggling, Jin's hand will always rest themselves on JK's tummy. Jin can't even explain how cathartic it is, to feel JK's tummy expand with each inhale.

JK is so busy and tired between school life and work. So, he starts new habits out of convenience. Waking up from a food coma after Jin took him out, he drives to class instead of climbing the time-consuming hills on campus. And when he can't avoid walking across campus, he's discovered all the small shortcuts, from the school shuttles to using the music library's elevator to avoid climbing stairs. He'll wear joggy bottoms and oversized shirts when he attends lectures because they're comfy.

He doesn't think much about how out-of-breath he gets when walking on campus with Jimin and Taehyung, because everyone complains about the hills. It's not strange that he's always the last person to finish eating at the dining halls; even when his ex-roommates would swipe him in when he couldn't afford to, he'd always eat ravenously to compensate for his daily deficit in calories. He doesn't notice strangers oddly glancing at him, because after struggling for so long, JK is happy.

But one day, he has to attend a fancy school event. He goes to re-use one of the older clothes from Jin, but when he goes to try it on… the nice clothes Jin got him were fitted to his exact measurements, but not like this. He stands in front of the mirror, and feels like a clown. He hates the way he can't flex his arms. They look cartoonish, seams pressing painfully at the joints and bulging at the flesh. He'd managed to button the pants, but they dig so painfully into his stomach that he feels nauseous.

He doesn't understand. He'd felt so confident in the clothes that Seokjin kept buying him. Jin had made him feel nothing short of beautiful. So as he disrobes from the too-small clothes, he takes a second to really look at himself.

In his self-exploration, he decides that he doesn't hate the new weight. Especially given the history of compliments he has received from Jin to boost his confidence. But the haunting feeling of being a sausage case when wearing too small clothes… he flits through his closet, and realizes he might not be able to wear half his clothes. And that thought… terrifies him.

So, he goes to the school gym to work out. Tries to do some cardio on the treadmill, and hates the entire experience: the way his thighs rub together, his elbows knocking into his love handles, the heavy thuds of burning legs trying to keep up, how so utterly out-of-breath and gasping for air he is. His cheeks are flushed red from the 5 minute run, and his smartwatch (another gift from Jin) is screaming at him that his heart rate is too high.

JK ends up talking about it to Jin. Confides his fear of no longer fitting into his clothes, but otherwise feels comfortable with his new curves. Jin reassures him that he will always buy JK new clothes. He's tempted to throw out the offensive garments that made JK feel so uncomfortable right now. But for now, Jin fixes JK a bowl of ice cream and the two cuddle, Jin of course worshiping JK's body with gentle touches and reverent kisses."

_____________________[The End]___________________________

Please know how much I loved this, you wonderful beautiful human <3

#seriously I cried from happiness #I love this thank you for the gift #PLS DM ME SO WE CAN BE FRIENDSSSSS <3

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eorzeashan · 1 year

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THE FINAL CHAPTER: a rather chaotic compilation of some truly throne-ending stuff, KOTET (Battle of Odessen to Eternal Throne)

Theron: Using yourself as bait is a dangerous game. You're gonna need some help.

Aww Theron... that's nice, but Eight would be so adamant about fighting Vaylin alone since he feels it's his duty to protect them. Plus being bait means you're supposed to be the only target. Self-sacrificial lone warrior whose only ever relied on himself psych eval yadda yadda. Not that Theron or Lana would listen either, which results in an ugh fine from our favorite operative.

I guess he got so stubborn he wouldn't even let Theron on the back of his speeder (which was a glitch where Theron could only run behind him like a pet) in an attempt to leave him behind for his own safety, lol.

To make this whole outlandish scenario worse, Theron not only could not stealth the entire chapter ("Theron, you're ruining my speedrun." 'Theron!' "Well I'm sorry I don't have stealth generators like you two!") he also lost his blasters and started fistfighting Vaylin. Yes, he also fistfought the prior mobs. I was very confused as to why the enemies weren't going down fast enough with 2 comps until I looked over to see him punching skytroopers with all the damage of a wet bagel.

This is why he tried to leave you behind, Theron.

One defeated Vaylin and a storming of Zakuul Palace later, and Theron still was having the same problem of aggro-ing all the mobs due to having no stealth and only his fists, so I tried to stealth out of combat and call him over to see if he could evade them........instead, he died while Eight and Lana buried their faces in their hands.

Which was fine since it let Eight and Lana stealth for the rest of it without him, but his dead body kept showing up after them and it gave me a mental image of the two of them dragging his unconscious body behind them by the legs after he accidentally got caught in an explosion.

Not his best moment.

Valkorion: The Sith who fled her empire. And the charming spy, sired by Republic heroes. Do they truly serve you? Or do they plot your downfall, to claim the throne for their respective factions?

Eight: I'm done listening to you, old man.

"Idiot. It's the other way around," as Eight would say. He's fully aware Valkorion is making a desperate ploy right now to turn him against them, but he has thought about their loyalties ever since the start. It doesn't matter to him: he's bounced between both sides and has no right to judge. Even if they held no thought for him in the end, with him as the means for their own goals.....he'd still have fought for their sake.

Also, I lost count of how many times Eight called Valkorion a decrepit old geezer and told him to shut up these chapters.

Me, shocked: How is he tanking that lightning without a flinch?!

Then again, he did do the exact same thing during the Arcann fight, so maybe it's a combination of his sheer endurance/pain threshold as well as getting used to it. Either way, what a way to stunt on Valkorion. I'd be reeling if I threw lightning at an agent and they stood up. Extremely badass glitch.

Eight: My head's not a halfway house for immortal Sith, but I guess you found that out the hard way.

The only house it is for is Jadus, and you're no Jadus! Get lost!

Arcann: The Outlander didn't kill us. You did.

Oddly enough, I found I liked this ending more than the LS spare everyone version, most likely because it felt more cathartic for Vaylin and Arcann to face Valkorion with their full rage. Eight and Vaylin for some reason....saw eye-to-eye in their brief and vitriolic interactions, which sounds insane to say but can be attributed to how they understand primal emotion more than anything else.

It also felt more rewarding to fight the whole family with little to no help-- as an Echani warrior and one who fights alone, Eight would have it no other way; anything less than their full power would besmirch the honor of their duel and if he cannot have honor anywhere else, he'll make damn sure to have it on the battlefield. No help. No mitigation. Just his own strength, and theirs.

Lana: Theron!

Theron: Go. Save yourself. I'll cover you.

Lana: We fight together, we die together.

Theron: Now that's more like it.

The besties....;_; And poor Theron's sad face getting injured, he looks like a kicked puppy?? Why is he sad? Did it hurt that much? I really love them looking out for one another-- I rarely ever got this moment because it was always Arcann and Senya, so seeing them literally go ride or die was insane. They're lucky Eight can't hear or see them; he'd have thrashed that whole room to bits. What kind of agent would he be if his keepers had to die for him?

EAT THIS RIGHT HOOK VALKORIONNN

Eight followed Theron's example and decided Valkorion's crusty ass was overdue for a massive whoopin', and there's nothing he wanted more than to beat him to death with his bare hands. No powers. No poison. No blasters. Just the feeling of having your skull bashed in with mortal fists. As a martial artist, it was his duty to bring that Sith Lord who'd relied too long on power borrowed from others crashing back down into the cold, hard earth... starting with his body.

Can you imagine the absolute bewilderment he had to feel seeing this goddamn agent crack his knuckles and decide to go mano-e-mano to his godly self? It's the ultimate humiliation.

He beat him. He had to. For Jadus. For himself. Valkorion stood no chance at conquering his mind, to be honest-- for that to work, he himself would have to have a mind like people and on the inside....he is not that.

I'll write out exactly how I imagined it soon, but there's something about Valkorion stepping in and expecting a man, and finding instead what can only be called a wolf in his place.

I also headcanon he only used Eight as a stepping stool to get to Jadus, who shares the other side of the force bond and is his real goal to possess; but where he expected an easy fight he got a mind he couldn't break because it in no way resembled that of any other sentient he'd met. Eight's other personal stake in this is that Valkorion is blocking both sides of his and Jadus' force bond, and for this arrogant Sith to take away what had given him meaning in his life would instill a rage like he'd never known.

Eight: No more nightmares. No more interruptions from a crusty old ghost. I can get used to this.

It's finally fucking over. This was an ultimately tragic part of his life despite the good it meant for others around him and the galaxy; but it had left him isolated and more soaked in blood than the entire agent chapter. It was his duty. It was his burden. It was his wound to bear.

He's laid the dead to rest, and now he will leave. Whatever that means for him.

#swtor #kotfe/et au #it's....crazy how the Alliance usually becomes a home for other characters and it was the exact opposite for Eight #like a duty that had been hoisted on him that he had no choice to fulfill #it fed the side of him that wasn't a person but a weapon and a beast more than anything else until it was fat on blood #and....oh Eight you'll never find what you seek like this #still he leaves victory in his wake #as he always does

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sagiow · 11 months

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Like this?

11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? (lol i think i know the answer to this one)

from this fic game: https://www.tumblr.com/laiqualaurelote/719952627051446272/im-bored-and-anxious-so-i-slapped-together-a-list?source=share

Hey you figured out the ask games! Tumblr Integration Complete!

11. Nope. Not only am not a worthy music person (I don't even have Spotify, I pretty much only half-listen to FM radio stations while driving or cleaning like it's 1995), I usually need complete silence to write because I have the attention span of a toddler after a Cocomelon binge. Sometimes I might put some low key classical music or film score from YouTube, but nothing I'm emotionally attached to because then I'll start thinking about that movie and how long it's been since I've watched it and load up the IMDB page for it and then who knows where I'll end up down Distraction Drive (all odds point to NotWritingAnymore Avenue).

18. AO3 tells me I have over 250K words now in over 40 works... that's a lot of lines. I can't think of a favorite. If I restrict it to the last chapter of my last fic, Acikskatakusiir, I thought Cornelia's crafty use of commas in her signature to Eli was pretty effective. And the "Where are you, Eli?" that came earlier in the letter were the four most cathartically satisfying words of the whole story and felt like it was shouted straight out of our anguished fandom's oddly in synch Collective Consciousness.

25. (HA!) I upset myself with the process of writing, not the content.

I get upset facing what it is I have to write: a scene I'm not sure how to set/pace, smut, figuring out the details around That Scene / Dialogue I so wanted to write in the first place, smut again, an ending I'm not sold on and that feels half-baked, and more smut. I'm currently completely stalled and irritated AF because of a combination of those.

I'm typically upset in the "aaargh NO, that's NOT right, that's NOT how I want this to go, I don't know how exactly it's supposed to go but it's most definitely NOT that, why won't it just fucking go?!". But I'm totally at peace with writing heartbreak and separation and character death and shitty endings if they make sense (because I will have thought out reasons for them to make sense even before beginning the fic).

And nothing upsets me more than finding shoddy grammar or repeated words when re-reading some time after posting. The time I misspelled Ckirirahpiks and then proceeded to copy-paste the misspelled word in all its later iterations in the story has to take the cake. Guys, chat me up and let me know when I screw up like that. This was the equivalent of giving a conference with mustard on my face. Mortifying.

Thanks for the ask, friend!

#fic ask games

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barelysanereviews · 2 years

Text

2022 Midyear Faves

Shaniqua

To say that 2022 has been tough on me is an understatement. It felt like a putting out a series of wildfires, each one springing to life immediately after the last one died, wreaking havoc on my health (physical and mental), self-esteem, relationships, and finances in turn. But in the middle of that mess, I managed to find some shining lights in the darkness to keep me, as we like to say, barely sane.

(Side note: I recently went through our archives on a whim, and can you believe BSR started in May 2014??? What a ride it has been.)

Music:

We've already revealed ourselves to be kpop fans, so there's no point hiding it now. Unfortunately, kpop was one of the major natural disasters in my life this year as my favorite group disbanded around my birthday. Maybe I'll finally post my kpop journey on here as a tribute to them, but in the meantime, here are the songs I've clung onto to fill the void.

fromis_9 - DM

I've managed to chop up this song into bits that basically narrate my life, from the opening soliloquy "Hey you, 지금 뭐해?", to the very cathartic "Doesn't matter~~~!" every chorus, to the release of energy in that whistle note towards the end. It's just an oddly comforting bop that I keep coming back to, and I'm happy to say that I fell in love with the girls' discography in the process. Stream Stay This Way!

youtube

(G)I-DLE - Tomboy

I've followed Soyeon since Produce 101 (the curse/blessing that got me into kpop) and have stanned (G)I-DLE since their debut. I gotta say - Tomboy is a masterpiece. The way they came back with a shot heard around the world after losing a member and a year of solo activities is the cheffiest kiss. (6)I-DLE forever.

youtube

Honorable Mentions: VIVIZ - Loveade; Le Sserafim - Fearless; Taeyeon - INVU; and of course, NU'EST - Again

Film:

Love and Leashes (2022)

Though I watched last year's Let Me Be Your Knight for my bias, my favorite discovery of 2021 was Lee Junyoung. His character Taein was so endearing and charming, but a bit too similar to his previous roles. When I heard he was going to star alongside SNSD's Seohyun in a movie about BDSM, I had no idea what to expect. What I got instead was a weirdly sweet and loving film about two people learning to trust each other as they navigate their own preferences and desires. So excited for what he's going to do next, with or without barking.

youtube

Honorable Mentions: Turning Red, Minari

TV:

Do we still call it TV if we don't watch it on a TV?

Strangers From Hell

I actually watched more kdramas this year than I usually do to fill the void that Nu'est left behind, so I got to watch some of the more popular ones as they aired. But what can I say, I'll always be a sucker for a good dark kdrama. This one features one of my faves, Im Siwan, as he slowly goes insane from living in a rundown goshiwon whose inhabitants may or may not be murderers.

Pretty Proofreader

One thing I love about jdramas is that they can make anything - from an underrated sport to an overlooked profession - sound rewarding and exciting, and this charming little story about a wannabe fashion editor who gets assigned to the proofreading department of her favorite magazine is no different. As a fellow optimist, I felt so represented by Etsuko. Satomi Ishihara's extra outfits paired with her uplifting smile got me through Covid.

Honorable Mentions: My Liberation Notes, A Business Proposal, Spy x Family, Alchemy of Souls (ongoing)

Colleen

I watched a lot of TV shows the first half of the year because ya girl was unemployed for a while. Here are my top 5 picks and some honorable mentions.

TV:

Our Beloved Summer

I don't know why, but I got so obsessed with this show. Choi Woo Shik and Kim Da Mi had so much chemistry, and their characters just drew me in. The show is about two high school students--the top student (Yeon Su, played by Da Mi) and the bottom-ranking student (Ung, played by Woo Shik)--who are put together for a documentary. After getting to know each other while shooting the documentary, they fall in love and date for years. They eventually break up but are forced to reunite to do a sequel to the documentary, this time documenting their lives as adults. There was just something about the way the story was written, how well Woo Shik and Da Mi played the characters, and the summer vibe and visuals of the show. It just sucked me in. I rewatched scenes a million times and even did an ugly drawing inspired by a scene in the show. I look forward to seeing these two work together again.

My Liberation Notes

I love a kdrama that follows a group of characters and really digs deep into each one. You would think that the romance in this would be highlighted more than the character arcs (because kdrama), but the show balanced the romance and the characters' growth really well. There were several moments in this show where I saw myself in the characters and it also made bold story choices. I knew this would be good because the show's writer, Park Hae Young, also wrote My Mister which I also really liked.

Film:

Moonlit Winter

I found out about this film on IG, where I saw that Kim So Hye (of Produce 101 fame) starred in a film a few years back. I liked the aesthetics of this film, the slow pace, the quiet affection between the characters. It had the same vibe as Little Forest, and it also had that mother-daughter journey from miscommunication to friendship. The mother's story is heartbreaking and is not often told, and I liked how the film subtly subverted narrative tropes and let her story of yearning overflow.

Strawberry Shortcakes

This one's a rewatch. I saw it years ago, and although I forgot about the title and most of the story, I found it interesting how I still remembered a few parts of it even years after. I decided to rewatch it this year to refresh my memory and see why the film stuck with me. Strawberry Shortcakes shows the inner lives of four Japanese women: a sex worker who sleeps in a coffin and has a singular obsession with a man she knows from high school; a stone-worshipping assistant whose innocence sticks out in a workplace that sells sex; a sleep-deprived, solitary artist struggling to succeed in a money-driven industry; and an office worker who's looking for love. It's rare to see a story that revolves around a group of women who live complex lives, and the film also makes notable choices in cinematography.

Book

The Soulmate Equation

Romance novels are perfect for me right now: not too deep, but enough to make me feel things and escape life. This one is really cute and has an interesting premise: Jess, a single mom and statistics expert, gets matched with River Peña, the cold-hearted creator of a dating app called GeneticAlly, which matches people based on their DNA compatibility. If you're looking for a lighthearted romance read, check this out.

#Youtube #soulmate equation #christina lauren #romance novel #books #movie #film #tvshow #kdrama #my liberation notes #our beloved summer #moonlit winter #kim dami #choi woo shik #fromis_9 #(g)i-dle #love and leashes #strangers from hell #pretty proofreader

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