#why does that count as a view and then go into your history and then fuck up your recommendations literally instantly
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my youtube home page recommended videos these days are like
video i've already watched
actual video i'd like to watch from a creator i follow
extremely upsetting video that has zero (0) relevance to anything i ever watch
video with ten views of someone's high school graduation or something
shorts i don't want
video i've already watched
video from my watch-later playlist that i saved five years ago
six (6) videos related to home improvement bc i made the mistake of watching one (1) video about fixing something once
tomska????
#i'm being hyperbolic but this is genuinely what it feels like#but also#this is somehow miles better than the “for you” thing that pops up on the search page#i can't find a way to right click on a video in the “for you” section and say 'please dear god never show me this again please?'#whose idea was it to put “for you” in a search page anyway i'm searching for a reason#also#if your cursor hovers too long on a video and it does that autoplay preview thing#why does that count as a view and then go into your history and then fuck up your recommendations literally instantly#why can that be reflected so quickly in my recommendations and not anything else#i am sorry to rant on tumblr but i am genuinely v annoyed about this#tech#youtube#my post#coming back to add that this frustration has caused me to do what i should've done ages ago#and go find the list of ublock origin filters that turns off the recommendations on search pages#so my life is much better#perhaps there was a plus side to my annoyance#but i am STILL v annoyed ok#anyway this is your sign to go do that ublock origin saves my life repeatedly
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big reputation part two | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader
a new season dawns but that doesn't mean we don't have a map to our buried hatchets
MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE
charles_leclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3,221,783 others
charles_leclerc: ferrari has been home for as long as i can remember, even before i joined the academy, the dream of driving for ferrari gave me a purpose. i am heartbroken it hasn't worked out, but formula one is, at the end of the day, a selfish sport and i have to think about my real goal here: to win a championship. ferrari has an amazing history, but that is what it is history. in the four years i have been here i haven't seen the drive and ambition to be as ruthless and as complete as they were with michael and with kimi. therefore i have to leave. it hurts me to leave the tifosi, but know you're always in my heart and i will always hold dear your support. grazie regazzi essere ferrari ❤️
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user3: i knew it was coming but HOLY FUCK CHARLIE COME HOME
user4: tifosi lecfosi YES SIR
user5: for real i'm down for him not that clown team
yourusername: i'm proud of you charlie, i knew how much this took. but you have to put yourself first at some point. i love you
charles_leclerc: i love you too. i'm sorry i can't stop crying
yourusername: no i love that you are so passionate. it's been a long season and you're finally allowed to let it all out
charles_leclerc: can we go to a rage room?
yourusername: FUCK YEA
maxverstappen1: pretty please may i join. i have a lot of rage. call it teammate bonding?
charles_leclerc: give me a tow in bahrain quali?
maxverstappen1: fine (NO ONE SCREENSHOT THIS OR HOLD ME TO IT)
yourusername: at least this one i don't mind having to third wheel us
user6: the SHADE that's mother right there
user7: trying to stay insanely normal over the fact that max, charles and y/n are besties
pierregasly: congrats calmar, HOWEVER, i though i was your favourite third wheel 🥰
yourusername: but you bring kika ??? how can you third wheel if kika is there? DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO COUNT?
charles_leclerc: thank you pear i love you brother
user8: i love how this is some super sentimental post and y/n is asking pierre if he can count i hope they never change
landonorris: max as fave third wheel ??? @alexalbon @georgerussll63 twitch quartet erasure
yourusername: womp womp
alexalbon: WOMP WOMP?
charles_leclerc: guys i'm sad about leaving my dream team where is the compassion?
georgerussell63: yeah boo hoo there are bigger things at play here I DID NOT SIT THROUGH YOUR TEN HOUR MELTDOWN ON AN APPROPRIATE TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY GIFT NOT TO BE TOP THIRD WHEEL
yourusername: you fools really will argue about anything huh
landonorris: this is the sanctity of our friendship on the line here
user9: the grid was really like YOU might be sad about leave ferrari but we ain't
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,421,455 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: holibobs with sharlie
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user10: i love as soon as the season finishes charles becomes THEE instagram boyf
user11: j.peg account? no. just taking photos of y/n? YES.
charles_leclerc: i have an eye for beauty
yourusername: heheheheheheehehehehehee
alexalbon: so he can use a camera? why does he only take 0.5s of me?
yourusername: the best angle for your big ol dome
alexalbon: EXCUSE ME ?
yourusername: yeah sorry that was a bit far
alexalbon: it's like you got off the ferrari leash and now we all have to suffer
yourusername: WELP
charles_leclerc: ma belle, the only one i'll actually listen to and put sun cream on
yourusername: yes you will because we...
charles_leclerc: put spf on everyday !!
yourusername: yes! because...
charles_leclerc: we're scared of aging?
yourusername: no?
charles_leclerc: we want to be safe 👍
maxverstappen1: you guys done with the kindergarten reading lessons?
yourusername: have you seen lobster leclerc? this kind of work needed to be done
user12: lobster leclerc? goodbye, goodbye, goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky
user13: see now i'm confused cause why are some papers saying that they're breaking up? or that charles is embarrassed by the way y/n acts?
user14: bestie we've been through this DON'T TRUST THOSE HOES - TRUST THESE HOES
liked by yourusername
user15: unless i see it from the horse's mouth I WILL NEVER BELIEVE THEY'VE BROKEN UP
redbullracing
liked by yourusername, christianhorner and 882,339 others
tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1
redbullracing: charles the qualifying king takes his first pole position for red bull in his first race and is joined by max for a front row lockout
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user18: UNWELL
user19: suck on that ferrari xoxo
user20: *rubs eyes* is that... max being happy to be challenged by a teammate ???
user21: winning three championships really takes the heat off huh
yourusername: THAT'S MY MAN YALL
charles_leclerc: love you baby
yourusername: love you too darling
maxverstappen1: love you three 🫶
yourusername: this is not the problem i thought we'd have when coming to red bull
maxverstappen1: my gf can't make most of the races so you WILL deal with me
user22: max being clingy to charles and y/n is so fucking funny to me
user23: sainz not making it out of q1? shwartzman only making it to q2 but still out qualifying carlos? charles looking sexy in blue? EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST CHARLES LECLERC SHALL FALL
christianhorner: mega job boys, let's keep our eyes on tomorrow
maxverstappen1: tell them they have to let me come to dinner with them
christianhorner: isn't this the exact reason we rehired daniel
charles_leclerc: PLEASE MAKE DANIEL COME TO THE NEXT RACE
maxverstappen1: erm rude
charles_leclerc: i'm sorry i'm not used to a teammate that actually wants to be friends for real
yourusername: EXCEPT SEB WE LOVE SEB
yourusername: but for real max emilian i am monitoring the dutch papers... be very careful
user24: healthy teammate relationships (for now) ??? is this what heaven is like
user25: are you telling me that if max doesn't get the lead in the first lap he might actually HELP charles .... a certain spanish individual could never
charles_leclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,778,451 others
tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1
charles_leclerc: wow !! a 1 - 2 in our first race i couldn't be happier. this car is a dream to drive and i'm so grateful to red bull for being so welcoming. teamwork makes the dream work
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user26: tears in my eyes
user27: okay i understand both of them are like with their forever partners but lestappen is also real TWO THINGS CAN EXIST AT ONCE
yourusername: SHARLIE OMG YOU TALENTED, TALENTED KING
charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
yourusername: crying sesh. sharlie's drivers room @ 8. bring your own alcohol and tissues
charles_leclerc: just to make sure everyone knows THESE ARE HAPPY TEARS
landonorris: SAP ALERT GET IT TOGETHER MAN
yourusername: i know lando no-wins ain't talking rn 🤨
charles_leclerc: you walked into that one buddy
landonorris: just because i'm friends with carlos doesn't mean you have to come after me like him ...
this comment has been deleted
yourusername: bold... real bold. you're lucky i'm doing meditation and yoga (and that i want to make a good impression on christian)
alexalbon: lando do NOT look at the text she just sent your your ego CANNOT take it
user28: no no no do spill... i need the ammo if he ever takes out my fave
user29: true i need it for the next time either of the ugly twins at ferrari open their gobs
oscarpiastri: it was brutal. they need to get y/n to host the reading challenge on drag race
yourusername: oscar knows drag race?
oscarpiastri: i might be an athlete but i'm not completely uncultured
maxverstappen1: if we're talking being cultured... GET READY FOR YOUR FIRST RED BULL PARTY
yourusername: born ready my university years singlehandedly financed your 'catering budget'
charles_leclerc: no really i think she's actually addicted to the tropical one
maxverstappen1: are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? IT WAS YOU WHO DRANK ALL OF THEM
yourusername: and what?
maxverstappen1: idk i'm still kinda scared of you
user30: the way charles deflected the questions about fred and sainz ? WE'RE FREEEEEEEEE
yourusername
liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,311,723 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: i wanna be your end game <3
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user32: you guys better be end game or like you're paying for my therapy
user33: i respect her dedication to go to every race, make ferrari staff tremble in fear and pull LOOKS
charles_leclerc: i want to be your first string
yourusername: what if we just called taylor up?
charles_leclerc: you know here you call her i'm nervous
yourusername: @taylorswift paris night one, lover and this is me trying ft. charles on the piano?
taylorswift: sure thing
charles_leclerc: why was that so easy?
yourusername: better get practising baby
charles_leclerc: OH GOD
user34: how did we get red bull charles and a taylor collab in one year?
user35: i guess we used up charles' good luck from the last four years SORRY CHARLES
charles_leclerc: i guess you're forgiven...
maxverstappen1: so could you like tell me what you'd call me if i hypothetically fucked charles over... i'm not gonna but like i need to mentally prepare myself to hear it
yourusername: i have faith in you so i haven't thought that far ahead
maxverstappen1: can you please not be too mean i can't take it
charles_leclerc: you wanna come to therapy with me buddy?
maxverstappen1: i think i might
yourusername: when we entered the reputation era i did not think it would lead to taking max verstappen to therapy
maxverstappen1: and taylor swift?
yourusername: ... and taylor swift
user36: this is all very cute and all but can we have mean y/n back
user37: when will yall learn that reputation is a love album and y/n and charles are just loving each other freely
user38: but mean y/n did teach someone a lesson in not spreading false rumours cause them tabloids have been QUIET
f1tea
liked by user43, user44 and 7,233 others
f1tea: carlos sainz was caught liking these tweets about charles leclerc and y/n y/ln, what do you think?
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user45: put me in the ring with carlos i am being so serious
user46: okay for a while i was on the fence about y/n and how intense she was being but like seeing this shit and realising it was probably what was being said in the garage she needed to do more
user47: for real if someone said that about my boyfriend i'd be in prison
user48: so charles and y/n were under contract to not say a word out of line about ferrari or anything to do with ferrari and this guy is out here liking this
user49: call me a conspiracy theorist but this was his public account... he meant for people to find it and wants people to know this stuff
user50: this is why he DNFed in the first race KARMA
user51: maybe this is why he's always the one with relationship issues bro clearly has no loyalty
user52: charles has never said anything about him even now and y/n only said something in retaliation
user53: fuck peace and love y/n needs to give this man hell
user54: read him for filth
user55: bro needs to keep his twitter fingers to himself and focus on not being in the wall ❤️
charles_leclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,311,885 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: this is why we can't have nice things, darling
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user56: this is the most response we'll ever get from charles i fear
user57: allow me to elaborate: this is why we can't have nice things by taylor swift is about 'forgiving' the people who wronged you but she literally says "and here's to you because forgiveness is a nice thing to do... i can't even say it with a straight face" so basically charles doesn't forgive carlos or fred. and it specifically shouts out her family and friends and lover for sticking with her which is what charles' family, friends and y/n have done
liked by charles_leclerc
user58: thank you for service
yourusername: i'm reading what they call you lately (it says you're a race winner and a title contender)
charles_leclerc: got a taste of the celebrations and can't get enough
maxverstappen1: KEEP IT PG THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE
charles_leclerc: you're older than me
yourusername: all we said were celebrations, if anything you have the dirty mind 🤨
maxverstappen1: i am usually in the room next to you, i hope this helps
charles_leclerc: our bad <3
maxverstappen1: you don't care do you?
yourusername: not really no. when we get to the same amount of wins as you maybe it'll wear off
maxverstappen1: not on my watch
user58: is this an entertaining title fight but without the bad blood?
user59: and nowhere near ferrari? bless
alexalbon: i hate that i understand all these references
yourusername: lily trained you well
lilymunhe: like a drill sergeant
yourusername: as you should
sebastianvettel: proud of you charlie, i'm glad you're not wasting your talent
charles_leclerc: i love you seb, i'm sorry it took so long
sebastianvettel: make sure you win here, we can be ferrari failures together
yourusername: *ferrari failed you
sebastianvettel: i knew there was a reason i liked you
fin.
note: SOZ. so like i am still working on requests but that radio message FUCKED ME UP. so this had to happen. glad my queen girls (max and charles) did well today, hope you enjoyed !!!
#f1#f1 x you#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 social media au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc instagram edit#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc social media au
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Hello lovely xo, can I request Aemond reuniting with his childhood love/crush at a feast after not seeing her for six years.
Author Note: Hi love of course you can! I wrote so much more for this than I thought I was gonna write I really took of, plus after looking back at the request I didn’t make them meet at a feast… still I hope your happy!
Word count: 5.3K words
Warnings: None explicitly needed, though reader is described as being female, kissing stuff and insecurities
Other Links: My Ewan Mitchell masterlist for more Aemond content
Taglist: @blue-serendipity
—————
Aemond was one and ten when he first laid his eyes on you, the daughter of Tyland Lannister.
You had golden hair that resembled Sunfyres scales. Your eyes were green like grass. Oh and your smile, it could light over a thousand lanterns. He easily thinks the best part about you was that smile…
The first time Aemond saw you up close was in the library. He was researching Daenys’ prophecies when he heard a strange thumping noise go off within the shelves.
“Hello?” He called out. “Is anyone here?” An annoyed scowl taking over his face when no one showed up immediately to take credit. He went back to reading, though soon he became too on edge to even get past another sentence. What if there was actually a person hidden in the shelves and they wish to kill him?
Aemond put down his book and walked into the shelves, peeking round the corners to see if anyone lurked there. He looked for a couple minutes, shifting from his least favourite section the poetry books to his favourite the section on Targaryen history.
That’s however, when he sees golden hair peeking from the sides of the display. He doesn’t choose to call out to them, in fear the mysterious person will flee and he’ll never get to see them. Aemond slowly takes out his dagger and stalks towards the person, his heart beating rapidly at the possibility of a fight taking place.
When he turns the corner though, with his dagger held high and stance ready to take a fight, he feels his heart is about to burst from his chest when he sees you innocently sitting on the ground with a book in your lap. You seem to be asleep, as the pages aren’t being turned and your neck seems to have laid itself in an uncomfortable position.
He places his dagger back in its hold and kneels forward to take a look, and to see if you truly are sleeping. He nearly smiles when he sees how innocent you look in this view. Though Aemond knows he should not be jealous at that moment, and goes to wake you up as carefully as he can.
“M-my lady…” He all but whispers, gently taking the book from your lap. His restraint shows well as his hands attempt to not caress the skin that’s being revealed from your slightly ridden up skirt. “My lady, I think you need to wake now.” He uses one hand to gently shake your shoulder and the other to grasp your chin and pull your head up. His restraint is tested once more when his thumb nearly brushes over your lips.
Aemond is ever so grateful when you let out a small groan and groggily open your eyes. It’s almost amusing when your eyes turn panicked when you realise the situation you were in. “M-my prince I am so sorry!” You shout. Attempting to stand up but you nearly fall over in the struggle. “P-please do not punish me for being here!”
Aemond cannot help but give an amused smile at your panic. “It’s okay my lady!” He smiled, now standing up to be level with you only to embarrassingly realise you were taller then him… “What is it you were reading?”
You look confused now. Probably wondering why he isn’t kicking you out and demanding your head for sneaking in. “It is not a trick question my lady. What is you were reading?”
“I was reading about your own dragon my prince…” Aemond had to strain his ears to hear what you said, but when he does his ears turn scarlet. You were specifically looking at his dragon and not Sunfyre or Caraxes? Even the book of Balerions journey could’ve been the one you were reading about but no, you chose to look into Vhagar. It made him smile almost cockily.
“And why my dragon in particular?” He grinned. If his mother was there she’d not be happy he was fishing for compliments from a Lannister, yet she wasn’t here at that moment to see the pride that filled him so he carried on anyways.
“She’s an important part of your family’s history! Her nickname is Queen of the dragons which is one of the best names for any of the dragons both still alive and dead!” The way you ramble about his dragons makes his ears burn and smile somehow both bashful and yet cocky at the same time.
Aemond nearly invites you to go meet Vhagar the moment he sees you begin to smile at him, though it takes all his restraint to just talk to you about Vhagar. The two of you become more and more passionate in your conversation and continue to talk until the shelves become dark and nearly impossible to see.
Aemond insists on escorting you to your temporary chambers, secretly relishing when you insist bashfully that you could very easily escort yourself. “I insist my lady you do not know the sort of people that hang around in the corridors of this castle. My brother being one of them…” He relishes even more when he hears you giggle and shyly accept his offer.
The next morning though, when he’s washed himself thoroughly and dressed himself as fancy as he could without Aegon picking up on his intentions, Aemond walks to your chamber doors and knocks nervously. For all he knows you could be half dressed, or still asleep, or even taking a bath… He’s only half sorry when his mind begins to wonder.
Aemond does begin to worry when he stands outside of your chambers for nearly ten minutes and he hears no movements. He takes a deep breath before heading into your chambers, and takes notice of its near pristine state. “My lady?” He calls, even though he knew secretly that it was useless to call for you. He does a little walk around the room to see if he could tell why your presence seems to have left the room.
The sheets and the bed covers are pulled tightly and tucked into the bed. The personal items Aemond had managed to get a small peek at when he brought you to your room last night looking as if they were never their in the first place. The room looked as if nobody had ever slept their that night.
The lack of life in the room made Aemonds skin crawl. Maybe you weren’t even there in the first place? A cruel figment of his imagination that made him believe for a short time he was normal. So he went to the first person he thought could help. His mother.
“Mother, I visited the Lannister daughter this morn to invite her to break fast with us, but she was not there and her room was empty. Do you know why this is?”
“Yes my sweet boy. The girl and her father were summoned back to Casterly Rock near late last night. It seems the lady Lannister had started her labours earlier than the maesters would have liked.” His mother said, looking to her son in sympathy when she saw the saddened look on his face.
“Do you know if she- I mean if they’ll return when her mother has given birth?” Aemond could not help but try and be hopeful, even if he knew their was no chance of it being anything like that.
“I doubt it, sweet boy. The mother has gone into labour nearly a month earlier than expected. I highly suspect the babe may not survive, so they will no doubt wish to mourn the child if it does pass.”
Aemond tried to stop the frown that he could feel was stretching on his face, though it was no use. His mother had already seen it and was looking at him like he was weak. Like he was a silly boy with just a silly crush on a silly girl.
That was the moment Aemond devoted himself to leaving that silly boy behind. Soon he’ll become a man. Maybe it was all secretly so you’ll want to marry him just as much as he secretly wishes to marry you… but he’ll never admit to that.
It’s been six years since Aemond last saw you. He secretly writes letters to you every week, imagining you receiving them and holding them to your chest in excitement. He has never forgotten you. Late at night when he goes to sleep he secretly always wishes for dreams of you to keep him company. None that are dirty of course! Though Aemond didn’t complain when he had one every once in a while…
“Aemond did you hear what I just said?” His mothers voice broke him out of his thoughts.
“No mother I was thinking about, things.”
“Well, as I was saying. We will be hosting the Lannisters for a ball for their eldest daughter starting next week. Her father wishes for her to stay here in kingslanding for a year to give her a better chance at finding a potential and acceptable suitor for her. I believe she’s around your age Aemond...” Aemond could feel his heart beating out of his chest. You were coming back here? He’ll finally get to see you again and see how much you’ve no doubt changed after all these years…
“A marriage with the Lannisters will no doubt be helpful in the long run. I suggest talking to her before anyone else. Her house is a useful ally, though her father will no doubt attempt to go for whoever possess the larger coin pouch.” His grandsire commented halfheartedly as he tucked into his food. Aemond only gave a simple nod before retreating back to his mind, indulging in the simple fantasy of seeing you again.
The rest of that week, Aemond could not take you out of his mind. He had not acted like this since you left six years ago, and it was easy to tell. He was less enthusiastic in his training with ser Cole, thinking of how when you were his bride you’d be sitting proudly on the balcony watching him. He couldn’t read peacefully in the library, only thinking back to how he first met you and how much you truly made him smile that day.
Thankfully to Aemond though the week went surprisingly quickly, and before Aemond knew it he was standing proudly yet nervously for your carriage to pull up and for you to come out.
He’d put on fresh clothes that morning and requested to have a bath drawn for him. He took an awful long time making sure every single part of him was clean and that his hair held no sweat or grease of any kind. Aemond could not shake the look of amusement from both Aegon and his mother, both taking notice of Aemonds sudden pristine condition and nervous exterior.
When the carriage carrying your house colours arrived, Aemond felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Would you even recognise him? Would you even be the same girl he met and talked to all those years ago?
Aemond nearly lets his mouth fall open when you walk out of the carriage, and only just catches the actions before he could embarrass himself anymore than Aegon will no doubt bring upon them.
Your hair still holds the same golden colouring to it, the sun looking like it was reflecting off it. Your figure has quite obviously changed in the years you were gone, the most prominent ones being the fact you’ve… matured. It’s almost amusing to him that you’re shorter than him, when before you were the one who looked down at him as children. Your smile though, that has not changed at all.
He sees the way Aegon leers at you when you curtsy to his mother and thank her for his families hospitality. It brings him such a great amount of joy to kick Aegon swiftly and firmly in the legs when your back is turned talking to Helaena.
Over the next few days, as much as Aemond hates to admit it, he has been hiding from you. Aemond cannot bring himself to strike up a conversation with you, possibly due to a fear that he refuses to acknowledge.
Though he cannot deny the jealousy that takes over him when he sees you laughing with Aegon of all people. When you laugh, you hold your hand in front of your mouth, a trick taught to all young ladies according to Helaena. Though he believes it to be a terrible thing, as it hides the way your face lights up when you’re overcome by laughter.
Aemond even finds himself jealous of Helaena, who you seemed to have grown close to in the last few days. From what he has observed, the two of you like to sit under the tree in the courtyard and discuss a whole manner of items Aemond cannot hear from where he observes on a nearby balcony.
He’s disgusted with himself for acting like some common man, though even though he knows it’s morally wrong he still cannot bring himself to stop. As long as he cannot bring himself to talk to you, he watches you to bring himself a strange sort of comfort. To know that you are okay and safe and nowhere near himself.
Though it seems that you have been upholding a different idea, as one moment when Aemond is looking at you talking with Helaena, he sees you turn to him, look him dead in the eye and show him a kind smile. He can feel his eye widen in the sudden acknowledgement and hide behind a nearby pillar. It brings secret relief to hear your giggle. Assuring him that you are not disgusted as he is in his nature, and that instead you are amused by it for some unknown reason…
Aemond looks around the corner, expecting to see you resuming your conversation with another one of your beautiful smiles on your face, though he is scared nearly out of his skin to find you face to face with himself. It takes him a near minute to find words. No amount of words that he had read over the years seemed to come to him no matter how much he willed it.
“I-I’m sorry for intruding on you my lady Lannister!” He stammered with a bright red face. Aemond does not think he has ever felt as sheepish or as shy as he has at that moment. His face only reddens though when you seem to giggle at him, whether in amusement or in mocking he does not know.
“It is fine my prince.” You smile. Aemond cannot help himself from comparing your voice to the one you possessed as a child. It’s gotten lighter, he thinks. Before you seemed to be shy to talk to him, though that may have been more to do with circumstances rather than who you were talking to, and now your voice held a sense of ease. “Me and your sister were merely nibbling on some honey cakes and talking about the silly things? Would you care to join us?”
When he takes too long to respond, purely out of surprise that you wished for him of all people to join you, you seem to have taken his silence in the wrong context. “You do not have to join if you do not wish to participate in silly lady gossip-“
“Nonsense!” Aemond blurts with a shyness that brings him nearly straight back to his boyhood. “I would be honoured to join a lady such as yourself my lady for what you called, silly lady gossip.” Aemond cannot describe the joy he feels when he sees your reddened cheeks and happy smile. It should be you the painters should be painting, not himself when there’s such obvious other beauties in this world.
The roles are reversed however, when you take his hand in your own and lead him to where you and Helaena were previously conversing. It takes every fibre of his being to not send a cold glare in Helaenas direction. Especially when she sends an amused look and a raised eyebrow his way at the sight of his flushed cheeks and awkward expression.
It surprises Aemond though, when he finds himself enjoying what he had thought would be a dreary conversation. It brings a smile to his face when he makes you laugh so hard you forget to put your hand in front of your face. He even nibbles politely on a couple of the fresh honey cakes you offer him bashfully.
When the supposed picnic is over, Aemond is prepared for you to go off with Helaena and leave him. Though it surprises him when Helaena says her goodbyes, claiming she has a duty she needs to fulfil, and you turn to him with a small sheepish smile. “Do you wish to head to the library with me, my prince? I feel it has been an age since we had a conversation.”
It brings every part of him to answer normally. “I would love to my lady.” With a small smile. One that he doesn’t think he’s ever displayed to anyone else outside his family. He’s delighted that you also share a similar blush that’s painted across both of your cheeks.
Aemond wishes he could start a conversation with you. Though whenever he turns to you all he finds himself doing is turning straight back to the corridor looking straight ahead.
When he and you get to the library, he shyly holds the door open for you to go first. Delighted in the slight blush that appeared at his politeness. He notices how you seem to look around in awe and is delighted that you seem to hold the same love for books as you did as children.
“The library has expanded since the years you have been gone, my lady. I believe near a few hundred couple books were added since.” Aemond smirked. It was a strange get definitely not an unwelcome sight to see someone be as passionate about literature as he did. It easily became a bore when he had to handle people like his brother, who he doubted at this point of his life could even read at all…
“It’s still as beautiful as it looked the last time I saw it…” You whispered, looking at him in an awe. Aemond cannot help himself from wishfully thinking that you were saying that to him. That you’d whisper into his ear how you believe he’s beautiful even after all those years apart.
He’s soon knocked from those blissful thoughts when a pain hits his eye socket and he hisses lightly, gaining your attention. “Are you alright my prince?” You asked in concern, moving to be before him.
“It is alright my lady…” Aemond hisses. “It’s merely a side effect of my deformity…”
“Is there any way I could help?” Aemond could not help but look up at you to see if you were genuine, and by the way you anxiously held a hand to his shoulder and knelt down to him to get a look at his injury he felt like you were.
“I have a balm which the maesters found to help when the pain flared like this…” Aemond cannot help himself from confessing. It felt so strange and unnatural to be talking so freely about his ailment with another person. Though you weren’t just another person. It was you. “It should be in my left breech pocket. If you would be so kind as to grab it for me, my lady, I can apply it myself.”
Aemond attempts to hide the way he gulps when he feels your warm hands on his thighs, fumbling to find the small tube containing the balm. It probably would’ve been more effective if he had told you what the balm was in, though at that moment he cannot stop himself from indulging in your touch as you modestly fumble for it. Even when you do find the tube and remove your hands from him he finds himself missing that small warmth. “Thank you, my lady.” He murmurs, releasing his hold on his eye to unscrew the tube lid.
He’s about to apply it to his eye, when Aemond realises something vital about the process. He’d need to take off his eyepatch, and you’re still in the room watching him concerned. “I’m about to take my eyepatch and I don’t wish for you to be disgusted and feel like you need to watch this…” Aemond cannot bring himself to look at you, in fear you’ll look as disgusted at the mention of looking at him without his patch.
He’s brought out of his self pity though when he feels a sudden warmth on his cheek. Your hand. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cheeks suddenly flush at the realisation.
“I don’t care about your scar, my prince. I have seen far worse from my brothers in the training field.” You smile. The blush on his cheeks does not seem to want to leave, though by the matching colouring that appears on your own cheeks he’s glad.
“You do not need to continue calling me my prince, my lady. You can call me by my name.”
“Okay Aemond. Then I must then insist you call me by mine.”
“If you say so Daena. Though like I said, if you truly do not wish to see my ailment then I suggest you turn away now…” Aemond cannot help himself from near preening at the honour of saying your name out loud in your presence.
“And like I said to you Aemond, you strike no such thing as disgust nor fear in me. In fact, I think I’d dare say what it is you strike me with are the exact opposite.” You smile, not realising just how effective your words were affecting him. Maybe if he was braver, then he would’ve asked exactly what you meant by that. But he didn’t. Instead, Aemond removed his eyepatch and applied the balm to his eye, before covering the area once more and acting like the moment never happened.
Over the next few days, Aemond spent all he could with you, abandoning all his previous plans so he could see you and make you smile. It still brought a chill down his spine to hear you speak his name while you smile and place a delicate hand on his arm. This new pattern that Aemond has developed though is broken, when he heads to your usual spot to find you conversing with Aegon. Or more accurately, Aegon conversing with you while you looked uncomfortable. It only gets worse when Aegon spots him marching towards him.
“Ahh brother! I was just telling lady Lannister all about the pink dread!” Aegon smiled with a cup of some unknown substance. Aemond felt his heart stop in panic. He does not dare to look in your direction, in fear he will see pity within your sweet green eyes. Aemond does not even dare to utter a response to Aegon’s taunt, leaving with his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he feared if he wasn’t clutching his hands, he’d be clenching his fists and punching Aegon’s face till it was shining red with blood.
When Aemond arrives in the library, he attempts to distract himself from his horrid self-pity by rereading one of his favourite pieces of literature, Valyrian dragons and where to find them. A fantastic book playing on both fiction and non. He becomes so enamoured with the writing he does not hear the doors open and delicate footsteps coming towards him. It’s only until he hears a small cough he looks up only to meet your eyes.
“Hello Lady Lannister. What brings you here? Has my brother either bored you of my childhood sorrow or run out of stories to tell?” Aemond scoffs, returning to the page on Dreamfyre.
“I though I told you to call me by my name Aemond?” You said, not moving from your spot.
“Apologies Daena. Tell me, did you enjoy when my brother was telling you tales of how he humiliated me as a boy?” Aemond closes the book, marking the page with a random piece of paper before looking at you.
“No, I must confess I did not. If I am to put it plainly and honestly Aemond, I believe your brother to be an absolute pest and a prat.” Aemond let’s a scoff of laughter at your unladylike language, though it certainly is correct.
“I cannot agree more with you Daena. It’s a surprise my brother has even lived till now. I believe any day well here such sad news on Aegon dying in some brother or ale house. Maybe both if he’s lucky?” Aemond cannot describe the joy he’s feeling, nor can he begin to fathom just how much his heart is racing.
“I think I walked about not long after you did. It took everything in me to not strike him there and then. Especially after seeing how unhappy you seemed to become when he mentioned that pink dread.” Aemond once again looks away at the mention of that dreaded tale. He cannot bring himself to see the pity once more than used to fill so many eyes at the sight of him.
“Do you, do you feel disgust for me? Or even pity?” Aemond murmurs so quietly he didn’t even know if you had truly heard him until you knelt down to be level with him.
“Aemond, I feel a lot of things for you. None of them are anything of the sort that could be even compared to disgust or pity.” You smile again and Aemond feels like his heart will burst from his chest. If you requested it at that moment, Aemond would’ve ripped his heart out then and there and handed it to you on a plate made of pure Valyrian steel. It takes everything in him to swallow the lump in his throat and speak. “May I ask what these emotions you feel for me are? The ones that you claim cannot be compared to disgust, or pity…”
“The feelings I feel for you Aemond are ones that I do not think I am even allowed to tell you of…”
“I do not care,” Aemond now almost desperately grasps onto your hands within his own. He is so close to possibly hearing what he has wanted for more than six years. Your love. “I would kill any who dare to oppose you sweet Daena.”
“You are beginning to sound like your ancestor Maegor the cruel Aemond.”
“It is worth the title and the bloodshed if I am to hear what I hope to hear be uttered from your lips.”
“And what is it you wish uttered from my lips?”
“That you feel a fraction of the same way I feel for you…” Aemond can feel his heart beat from his chest. The library has gone silent. A notion he used to enjoy but now hates more than ever. “Please Daena. Tell me what it is you feel for me so I can no longer feel like my heart is beating straight out of my chest when I see you! So I can no longer think of you as I have been doing for the last six years you have been gone! So I can leave you and never bother you again with my unrequited devotion for you…”
Once again the library’s silence becomes overwhelming as Aemond stares at you in both hope and fear. Your face does not betray you, staring only blankly at the intertwined hands of yours and his.
“What I feel for you Aemond, I think in all the books we have both read and the stories we have shared amongst each other, can only be described as pure devotion to you and only you…” This is when your face reveals a sweet sweet smile that sends Aemonds own face into a blood red blush. “I too thought of you, nearly everyday since my departure. Of that sweet boy who listened to me while I rambled on about a topic he already know plenty of yet still craved for more. That sweet boy who insisted on walking me to my chambers even though he did not have to. That sweet boy, who has grown into such a handsome man, that I think my heart grew fonder the moment I saw you when I stepped from my carriage. I must say though, I was disappointed that you did not send any letters to me in all these years.” You seem to jest.
“I didn’t want you to think of me as an eager boy and a prat…” Aemond reveals with a slight blush, looking down at the ground. It only worsens when he feels you take a hand from his grip and place it on his left cheek to tilt his head up. “I could never think of you like that my sweet Aemond…” He feels his face grow to a deeper red as it spreads all over. He can even feel his ears burning. He stays content in your hold though, Aemond does not think he has ever felt safer in your grasp than he ever felt in his life.
“I do not know if you read those sorts of books, Aemond,” You begin to speak, drawing Aemond from his daze. “But when I was younger and read those old romantic books where the man got the girl he loved, he’d always kiss her…” You grin. Aemond reciprocates it fully, picking up on your definitely not so subtle suggestion.
“Are you suggesting sweet Daena I kiss an unmarried woman in this very room, where there is no one but us?”
“No no my darling,” Aemond can feel his heart go mad at the name you give him. “I am simply asking you to kiss the woman who loves you back with all her heart.”
“Then I guess I have to make my darling love happy then.” Aemond wastes no time in reaching forward to grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. He relishes in the giggles you make for a moment before colliding his lips with your own.
It’s an awkward moment at first, since the two of you have never done this before, but eventually Aemond finds a pace that suits him and you. He finds himself letting out a deep groan from his throat when he tastes your sweet lips for the first time, the taste of strawberries and cherries overcoming his senses. That groan is released once more when he feels your hand make a place for itself in his hair and holding him firmly, Aemonds own hands staying in a near iron grip on your waist.
It is a great shame when he is forced to pull away from you, though he does get the great view of your swollen lips, red cheeks and panting form. “I believe I should talk to your father so I can get his permission to marry you, my sweet girl.” Aemond speaks, a hand removing itself from your waist to go to your face and stroke your warm cheek fondly.
“You truly wish to marry me?” You whisper, making Aemond raise a brow in surprise. “Of course I do. I would not be kissing you and finally confessing my love for you if I didn’t. Besides, the servants will no doubt talk if they are to see us alone here together and I would not wish to besmirch your honour like that.”
“I think that supposed honour left the moment your lips kissed my own…” You smile.
“Mine left the moment you smiled at me when we were children. I’ve never cared for another woman since… Are you truly happy? That I am to hopefully marry you?” Aemond asks, that insecurity creeping back in.
“Of course I am happy, my sweet boy.” You stroke the edge of his scar with your thumb and for the first time Aemond does not immediately jerk away at the contact. For once, he does not feel so ugly. For once he feels wanted and loved. “I would have no one else but you in my arms to love and cherish.”
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen/reader#aemond fic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond imagine#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#house of the dragon request#aemond targaryen request#request#aegon targaryen#aemond fluff#house of the dragon aemond
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instagram j.b.
summary: follow joe and his fiance evie as they go through his football career.
*face claim is Yasmin Quintana*
series masterlist.
breezyevie
liked by joeyb_9, millyg, bengals, and 367,972 others
breezyevie: pics i sent my mom this week
view all 9,736 comments…
user: im sorry what did we do to deserve this?
> breezyevie: i want to post more life stuff!
eviesmomma: i love you two!
> breezyevie: we love you mama!
user: not the love note 😢
> breezyevie: jb is the best.
user: someone needs to take away your ig. i’m sick of seeing ur bf.
> breezyevie: fiancé
joeyb_9: you look pretty everyday.. fyi.
> breezyevie: you are the loml.
user: my dream
millyg: you make me sick.
> breezyevie: envy is a disease. 🤪
user: i’m blocking you.
breezyevie
liked by millyg, joeyb_9, eviesmomma, and 736,820 others
breezyevie: GameDey! me and mills are ready for the divisional round
view all 10,837 comments…
user: i’ll be there tailgating atleast
user: seriously how much orange do you own
> breezyevie: i don’t think i can answer.
user: let’s get it! WHO DEY
joeyb_9: make sure you bring your helmet.
> breezyevie: i’ll be ready to save the day if needed.
user: yaaaaasss my fav!
millyg: i just want to make it clear that i am an eagles/chargers fan and i don’t own cincy merch.
> breezyevie: i tried to get her to wear some of mine. she says she’s no bandwagon.
joeyb_9
liked by breezyevie, lahjay10_, joemainmixon, and 492,936 others
joeyb_9: King in the North
view all 50,736 comments…
user: i know a gangster when i see one
user: you’re a pos.
bengals: 👑
user: the hardest post of all time
breezyevie: king of my heart. 💗
> user: the tswift reference 😭
> user: i knew i could count my queen to be a swiftie
> breezyevie: all of the best people are.. except joe. 🫠
user: joe is so fine tbh
user: joe cool.
lahjay10_: my boy 💪🏽💪🏽
breezyevie
liked by bengals, joeyb_9, millyb, and 927,062 others
breezyevie: there is nothing i love more than watching my joey do the damn thing. #whodey
view all 6,397 comments…
user: i love him
> breezyevie: he’s just the best
user: him not posting pics of you is a red flag
> breezyevie: i’m not sure why this bothers y’all so much.
millyg: i’m obsessed with you
> breezyevie: nooo. i love you.
user: queen of the afc
> breezyevie: stop it right now!
user: be honest did you pick joes game day fit?
> breezyevie: 👀
user: how does it feel to be dating the best qb in the history of the nfl?
> breezyevie: my joey. 🧡
joeyb_9: always supporting me 🤍
user: you’re like obsessed with him.
> breezyevie: i am.
joeyb_9
liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 1,639,388 others
joeyb_9: “Cartier glasses I won’t even peek at you”
view all 27,672 comments…
bengals: Icon
user: if you’re ever feeling down with ur busted gf let me know
> millyg: let’s respect my girl. they’ve been together for almost six years, he don’t care about you.
> user: they are engaged now, get a life.
user: jacket goes HARD
lahjay10_: you bad ass!
user: work it joe
breezyevie: best dressed qb in the league?
> joeyb_9: with a little help. 👀
user: this guy has no clue 🤣
user: i was unaware of the swag
millyg: drip
breezyevies ig stories
#bengals#cincinnati bengals#joe burrow#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow x reader#nfl#nfl imagine#joe burrow insta au#joe burrow instagram
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Chapter One
Gigi’ POV
There’s something about the spring breeze that instantly calms me.
Well, it usually does.
Now I’m just a ball of anxiety, counting down the seconds until I explode.
I’ve been in the studio for the past three days, wasting the time of my producer and assistant during the day, and getting no sleep while twiddling my thumbs and kidding myself that I can write another album at night.
I thought building a recording studio in my Monaco apartment while I stay here would help me. It hasn’t. At all.
And now I’m standing on my balcony, staring out on the packs of people running around the streets trying to get the place ready for the Grand Prix, contemplating whether I could be a good driver—well, just enough to quit my singing career.
I don’t mind the category; I could do F4. F1 Academy too. I’m really simple.
I drop my head on my hand and groan, just when my phone starts ringing from my back pocket.
“What?”
“Tell me you’ve written something.” Ally, my agent, demands through the device.
“I’ve written something.”
“Okay.” She sighs out. “Now tell me the truth.”
“I’m thinking ways of becoming a Formula 4 driver. Do we still have Susie Wolf’s number?”
“Gigi.”
“Ally, I’m serious. I don’t think I have another one in me.”
Ally starts yapping about something, and I put her on speaker while opening Twitter on my phone.
gigimymother
@gigisantos GIRL!!! RECKLESS THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY IS COMING!!!! WHEN’S THE NEW ONE????
santoslover
@gigisantos delulu is the solulu cause i still think Gigi is surprising us with a new album on Reckless anniversary…
—> gigifan girl be ffr she’s forgotten all about us
—> santoslover shut up
—> dannylovesgigi SAME!! i do also believe my ex is still in love with me sooooo
—> sandyford absolutely not, she is SO over…fame got to her and she thinks two mediocre albums are enough to stay rich 🤑
dannylovesgigi
y’all why’s the tl saying Gigi quit music???
“Were my albums mediocre?”
“G, get off Twitter for fuck’s sake and listen to what I’m saying.” I do as she says, mainly because I’m pretty sure she’ll fly from Toronto and strangle me if I don’t. “Time is ticking. And not in your favour. There’s so much i can do to keep you afloat.”
It’s the same speech. Over and over.
The same speech that I hear every time I pick up the phone from her call. The same speech that drove me away from Toronto and onto Monaco and the same speech that has drenched all the inspiration from me. I don’t have anything to write about, no words to turn into a song. And with every speech I hear, I don’t even want to try.
It’s draining. I hate it.
“Look, I know it’s difficult but you have to have something.”
I want to cry, I really do because her desperation is so evident in her voice. She believes in me too much and it’s gonna hurt when I disappoint her at the end of the summer.
The phone vibrates against my ear a couple of times and I take that chance to get out of the phone call with my doomed future.
“I gotta go, Ally. Something’s come up. I’ll call you later, okay?”
I end the call before she can butt in and let out the longest sigh in the history of the world. I see my best friend’s name on the screen of the phone and inevitably smile the biggest smile at the words on her text.
francis the king
you, me, alcohol 🍷
tonight
no is not a good enough answer
~ ~ ~
Strangely, the sweaty, already drunk people distantly surrounding our table made my mood quite quickly. Flashes of light spark every other second and I’ve become all too aware of the fact that it’s my first public viewing in a while.
My best friend is nursing on her drink while rolling her eyes at her boyfriend that’s on the phone with her, and I giggle at her facial expressions.
She’s incredibly in love, yet acts like Pierre is bothering her on a girl’s night out.
“Yes, I’ll call you at the end of our night…no we won’t call an UBER…okay, okay. Bye.” She ends the call abruptly and with the biggest, most dramatic sigh. “Okay, now we can start having fun.”
“I was already having fun.” I giggle.
Spending time with Francisca is honestly the only time I feel without the baggage of the third album looming over me. The bartender brings us the second round, and two extra shots on the house, accompanied with a wink for both of us.
“He’s cute.” Kika whisper-yells close to my ear over the loud music.
“Uh, oh. Trouble in paradise with Pierre?”
She rolls her eyes and slumps on my shoulder. “I meant you, dumbass.”
I know she did. But no.
It’s not like I’m cancelling love out of my life, but even entertaining the thought of going through the stages of finding someone and everything that happens after I’ve found someone decent, makes me want to hurl.
“The only man in my life is the imaginary one I created in the studio in order to spike my inspiration to write that damn album. His name is Tim.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Am not!”
“Shut up and drink.”
“Amen.”
~ ~ ~
Four rounds and five shots each later, we’re laughing at our lives and wiping the runny mascara that’s dripping on our cheeks. I don’t know what time it is but I can definitely feel the early stages of a good hangover that I’ll be having once I wake up.
But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Because four rounds and five shots later, I feel ten times better than I did when Ally called me earlier. And not because of the alcohol, but because Kika has lectured the insecurities out of me. She spent our girls night out talking to me and listening to me go on and on about my block and the expectations I’ve put for myself—I talked about shit I wouldn’t admit out loud.
At the end of the night, we’re clutching each other outside of the club and laughing so loud, heads are turning to look at us.
“Jesus, your boyfriend might be fast on track but he’s taking his sweet time getting here.” I pout and drop my head on Kika’s shoulder. “If I make a joke, like, ‘didn’t know you were as slow as your single seater’ will he cry?”
Kika laughs as she slips and grabs me tighter to not fall. “Yeah, he’ll probably cry.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Well, now I feel betrayed.” Pierre’s voice reaches us and Kika bounces off me to jump on him. He grabs her immediately and twirls her around, breaking my heart and making me the happiest person at the same time.
gigisantos …
gigisantos girls night was a success 🍷🍾🎉 @francisca.cgomez
Liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 893,409 more
gigiismother give us the new album!!!!!
santosloverrrr girl, get in the studio
pierregasly thank god i arrived in time
—> gigi @pierregasly shut up tripod
gigisantoslvr love her relationship with pierre 😍
f1fanlover why’s lando in the likes???
—> gigigigi because she’s friends with the drivers?
—> f1fanlover yea but they barely speak
francisca.cgomez my soulmate ❤️
As I drop my still clothed body on my bed, a million lyrics fly through my head. Melodies and words swirl in my alcohol infused mind, suffocating me at once and frustrating me as I forget one by one in the aftermath of a night out at the club.
~ ~ ~
#f1 imagine#mercedes amg f1#mclaren f1#fanfic#f1 smut#lando norris fic#lando norris smut#f1 social media au#f1 x oc#f1 fanfic#lando norris#f1#incorrect f1 quotes#formula one instagram au#formula one fic#formula one imagine#lando norris imagine
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Dearest Marmee,
I must thank you once again for recommending the tickets to the theatre. We have been home about a month now and my wife has not stopped gushing about it to anyone who will listen. I knew she had the soul of a poet but I could have never guessed how much that evening would mean to her.
We were the last to arrive, nearly missing the admissions, as we had stopped off to have our portrait taken there in London. But after all, how could we miss the opportunity to be photographed in our finest clothes, and so in my opinion anyway, we were only fashionably late!
I will admit only to you, some of the play went above my head, but my Winifred, oh how she laughed throughout the entirety of the performance. She understands things like this you see, and I suppose your Jo is likely the same; I think it is something engrained in all the great writers of the world to be able to understand why the curtains are yellow and not blue.
And boy, does my wife admire Mr. Wilde. She truly believes he will go down in history as one of the greats. She is very fond of all his work, and she suspects we should expect more excellence out of him before his career is finished.
Despite feeling a little out of my depth, I enjoyed myself all the same, especially after Winifred explained that the play mocks the wealthy in subtle ways. Mr. Tree, the gentlemen who played Lord Illingworth, is a galant man taking a slap from Mrs. Arbuthnot that way; how the sound of the sting echoed throughout the entire hall! I was downright shocked, and my wife in stitches, finding it absolutely hilarious.
At once the show finished, and as Mr. Tree and Mrs. Beere took their bows, everyone cheered for their outstanding talent, and I do believe my wife applauded harder than anyone else in that audience. The show was a treasure, and I trust it will be remembered for generations to come. However, what I will remember most, is my Winifred.
And while everyone marveled at the actors, I couldn’t keep from marveling at my wife instead. Her beauty, her cleverness, her whimsical laughter and dazzling smile, and most of all, her natural aptitude to understand the work...aside from the day we wed, I can't think of a time she has ever appeared more beautiful to me, or more herself.
It was though she belonged there, amongst others who appreciate literature, and my, I can't help thinking what it would be like to sit in that theatre and see her work performed on the stage instead.
I had hoped that our viewing of ‘A Woman of No Importance’ would give her the confidence she needs to be published. It would truly be a shame for the world not to know her work; I encourage gently, but she is stubborn, you see and hardly allows me to read it. She does not recognize her own talent.
Since we've been home though, I have found her early in the morning, asleep at her typewriter more times than I can count. So at the very least, I am pleased to see her passion burning inside once again. Now...if I could only find a way to ignite it.
Yours Sincerely, Lawrence
next / previous / first
#1893#i was unhappy with this and reshot the entire thing this morning :^)#this was one of those scenes that was a lot better in my head#anyway.....posting a little early bc i have stuff to get done today#enjoy <3#ts4 historical#sims 4 historical#ts4 decades challenge#sims 4 decades challenge#ts4 storytelling#sims 4 storystelling#ts4 legacy#sims 4 legacy#the baudelaire legacy#1890#winifred baudelaire#lawrence baudelaire
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Like Real People Do - e.m.
Part 2/2 - What did you bury?
ǁ summary: After your altercation with Eddie, you find yourself facing a lot of questions and uncertainty. Attempting to look closer at why you're in rehab, how you feel about him, and what the future holds for you feels like more than you're willing to take on until you realize it's only hurting you more not to.
ǁ tags: angst, hurt/comfort, heavy themes. depictions of inpatient rehab in the 90s. implied fem!Reader, no pronouns used, no y/n. strangers to reluctant acquaintances to lovers. happy ending!
ǁ content warning: both parts will contain mentions of drug use, struggling with addiction, self worth, society's view on drug users, grief, and death by drug overdose. brief mention of domestic violence and drug assisted disordered eating. please consume thoughtfully and if you have any questions before reading, feel free to message me.
ǁ word count: 12k
ǁ Part 1 ǁ Read on AO3 ǁ
It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.
― Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
You’re sitting on an examination table in the hospital wing in a paper gown with Dr. Lincoln fluttering around you like a nervous mother. Penelope had taken you right here after you had gotten all of the dirt off of your hands and pants, explaining Mr. Ford and Dr. Lincoln insisted on seeing you. Despite your assurances that you were completely fine, just shaken up, they had gotten you into a gown and prepared for a full exam.
“Are you able to lift your arms above your head?”
You do as asked, face stoic despite the pain in your shoulders from the movement.
“How about twisting? Carefully! How does that feel on your lower back?”
Performing the action, you also easily hide the discomfort the throbbing in your tailbone causes when you shift in your seat. “It feels fine.”
“And your head? You didn’t hit it? Does it hurt? Blurry vision, nausea, confusion?”
“No,” you sigh out, quickly losing patience with Dr. Lincoln’s anxious questioning. You can’t remember now if he was like this when you were first admitted or if he’s going overboard now because he’s worried about some kind of lawsuit. “I told you, I’m fine.”
He plucks your chart off the edge of the table, pen clicking as he begins to write furious lines along the bottom of the page. “I can give you some ibuprofen for the pain. Nothing stronger than that, of course. Given the circumstances.”
A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. “I don’t want anything. It doesn’t hurt.”
Liar.
Penelope steps up from where she was having a hushed discussion with Mr. Ford off to the side. “Are you sure? It looked like quite the fall.”
“I’m sure. I don’t want any painkillers.”
This pain is good. I need it. I deserve it.
Mr. Richard Ford steps up then – a severe looking man in his late 50s, always dressed in a freshly pressed suit and tie, with his hair combed just so and his mustache neatly trimmed across his upper lip. You’re still not sure if he’s related to the Ford’s that founded the facility or if it’s just a coincidence that he shares the surname.
His dress shoes click across the tiles as he approaches you, throat clearing uncomfortably when he enters the circle that has formed around the table. “Miss…” He looks down at your file and repeats your last name like he’s never read it before, earning him a cold glare from Penelope. “I am deeply sorry for what occurred. I assure you we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here.” He adjusts his tie along with his posture, looking proud as he explains, “We’re already in the process of having Mr. Munson transferred to another facility.”
A lick of panic rockets up your spine. “No.” 3 sets of eyes lock on you, emotions ranging from curious to concerned. “You don’t have to do that.” Your fingers curl into fists where they sit on your thighs before relaxing, taking some of the tension in your body with it. “I don’t want you to transfer him.”
He seems to hesitate then, bushy eyebrows drawing together on his wrinkled forehead. “Are you positive? It’s important to us that you feel safe here.”
“I do feel safe here,” you press, looking back and forth between the three of them before settling on Penelope. “It was an accident. Eddie’s barely into his detox – barely started therapy – and I should’ve known better than to get into an argument with him.” Her face remains passive, unreadable. No insight into how she feels about what you’re saying. “It’s my fault as much as his. It wouldn’t be fair to move him, not when he’s struggling this much, this early into his treatment. I don’t want him moved.”
“That’s very kind of you, but you should be more concerned about yourself.” Dr. Lincoln takes a small step forward, adjusting the collar of your gown to take another look at the quickly forming bruises near your collarbone. “You’re not worried about something like this happening again with him, maybe even worse?”
You think back to the moment you hit the ground. Looking up at him, silhouetted by the bright afternoon sun, leaving almost all of him cast in shadow. The way he looked utterly terrified at what he’d done. How quickly he had tried to apologize when he came back to himself.
Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality waiting to be shaped.
“No, it’s fi–” Hazel eyes narrow into a squint, stopping your sentence in its tracks. Another deep breath, in and out, and you try again. “I’m not worried. He won’t do something like this again. I want him to stay.”
A few moments of silence follows your declaration, Mr. Ford and Dr. Lincoln glancing at each other before looking to Penelope. Her calculating gaze remains on you, entirely unwavering even as the other two stare holes into the sides of her face. For the first time, you make a conscious effort to keep eye contact, to remain firm despite your desire to shy away.
The corner of her mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in response.
“Then that settles it.” She clasps her hands together in front of her stomach, looking back and forth between the men beside her with a placating smile. “Mr. Munson will stay, pending further transgressions.”
Your shoulders sag in a relief you hadn’t anticipated feeling, but you’re quick to straighten when she addresses you again. “Any other incidents, with you or any other resident, and he will be moved to another facility. Understood?”
It feels like a lifeline. Like a chance. Like an opportunity.
If you want him here, then help him stay.
“Understood.”
The next morning when you walk out for breakfast at 8:30 sharp, there’s something sitting on your table. It strikes you as odd immediately given you’re one of the first people out of your room today and there doesn’t seem to be anyone milling around. You withhold your curiosity – follow the same pattern of line, meds, line, breakfast. Stamp down the nervous feeling in your gut as you cautiously approach.
Completely dusted free of dirt and with your bookmark perfectly in place, is Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It had completely slipped your mind that you’d even dropped it. You place down your tray with shaky hands and pick it up, flipping through the pages like you’re checking it for wounds. There’s no note, no sign, nothing that could indicate who brought it back for you.
But you know who. It scares you half to death that you know just who, that you know it with certainty.
When is the last time anything felt certain?
The question lingers, festers, and grows as you push around your food and wait for him to plop down in front of you. Imagining what stupid thing he might say, how you would brush it off with a groan and a snarky comment, how he would take that reaction with a smile and never press for more.
He never shows.
It’s with great annoyance that you find yourself looking for him all day. Sitting in your chair by the window, you glance up every half a page to see if you can catch a glimpse of his shaggy hair around the hall. You actually take a walk during your outside time instead of hiding, and you tell yourself it’s because you want the exercise and it’s finally cool enough outside to not sweat your balls off, but that doesn’t exactly account for the way your eyes search the grounds for any sign of tattooed forearms and lanky legs.
When you walk into Therapy House with the others that afternoon, Eddie is already inside. He’s in the chair beside Penelope, slumped down so far most of his ass is hanging off the edge, legs out long, and looking every bit a kicked puppy. You silently beg him to make eye contact with you as you sit, willing your stare into a physical sensation that might force him to just look at you.
He doesn’t look away from his own hands once, silent as a mouse the entire session.
The moment group is over and the counselors come around to collect their first resident of the day, you’re walking across the sunbathed birch wood floors and stopping short just behind him before you can even think about it.
“Eddie,” it comes out as a sigh, eyes pinned to the way his shoulder blades tense before your very eyes, “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“I’ve, uh… Been in here, for the most part,” he explains over his shoulder, still not turning to face you. His voice is hoarse around the edges, ragged and torn from overuse.
“Oh, okay.” Your face pinches in concern, hand raising like you want to reach out to him but hesitating there. “About… about yesterday–”
“Sorry,” he cuts you off sharply, turning halfway toward you with red-rimmed eyes still trained on the floor, “I’ve gotta go.”
He’s halfway across the room and climbing up the stairs to the lofts two at a time before you can say another word.
The image of the swollen redness around his teary eyes, half covered by his hair as he refuses to look at you for even a moment, haunts you for the rest of the week.
“So, how are you feeling today?”
Penelope is dressed in a teal silk blouse. It washes out her skin tone and the boat neckline makes her shoulders look too small. Not to mention the strange height of the cinch just below her bust, giving it the appearance of a child’s nightgown. Plainly, it looks really bad on her. All of her clothes are carefully curated and fashion forward – meant to make a statement about who she is and the authority she holds. This is absolutely not making that statement. And you were staring at it for all of group, trying to wrap your head around what it meant.
“Who gave you that shirt?”
This might be the first time she’s ever looked even half surprised at something you’ve said, her lips parting slightly as she glances down at her chest like she had forgotten what she was wearing. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she looks back at you, passive expression back in place.
“You would’ve never bought it, I’m surprised you’re allowing yourself to be seen in it,” you continue, eyes narrowing into a squint as you continue to search it and her for clues. “The fact that you’re wearing it makes me think someone gave it to you and you’re going to see them today, so you felt obligated to wear it to please them. Maybe one of your parents or a sibling or a friend… A partner?”
She uncrosses her legs just to recross in the other direction, attempting to appear amused as you explain. Gotcha.
“A partner, then. One who obviously doesn’t know you very well, or doesn’t understand fashion at all, because the color is god awful and the shape even worse. But you want to impress them enough that you’re willing to wear it anyway.”
If it was an after work date, she would’ve changed after. So it’s someone she would mostly see during her normal day. Plus, she lives and breathes her job, when would she have had time to meet someone?
“I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to what I wear… Or that you were so into fashion,” she offers casually. Too casually to play off.
A bit too sharp, a bit too pointed, you snap back. “I’m not into fashion and you’re deflecting.”
She blinks at you for a few moments before she settles back into her chair, draping her arms over her stomach. “And you’re projecting.”
“No, I’m not,” and it comes out defensive. Too defensive to play off.
So then the quiet kicks in. Queen Penelope Windsor’s beloved uncomfortable silence. Part of you is convinced one of her professors taught her that awkward silence is an invaluable tool in psychiatry. You want to know who that professor is, so you can inform them how utterly wrong they are.
Penelope is, however, utterly right.
“I’m projecting,” you concede, gaze casting down to your lap to settle into the discomfort.
Her pen clicks and it feels like salt in your wound. “Okay then. Would you like to talk about what you’re avoiding?”
And maybe you’re not quite done being snarky when you reply, “Isn’t the whole point of deflecting because you don’t want to talk about it?”
“It can be. But I still would like to give you the opportunity to. You never know, it might help you feel better.”
Your eyes roll hard enough to just see white for a moment, looking off to the stupid little white noise machine in the corner. It’s the size of a radio clock and sits directly on the floor by the door – you’ve almost tripped on it 10 times.
Probably an accessibility hazard. Someone should really complain about that. If someone less coordinated, or even Thomas with his cane, tried to walk in they could really get hurt.
“Fuck!” The exclamation comes from nowhere, probably just barely loud enough to draw attention from outside the room. Penelope remains incredibly passive despite the sudden change in your attitude, not making a move or a sound as you bury your face in your hands with your elbows propped on your thighs.
Probably just interrupted other therapy sessions. Made them lose track of what they are talking about. Maybe even triggered someone unintentionally with your sudden yell. Great job, idiot.
Digging your nails into the skin along your hairline, you take in a hissing breath through your teeth and attempt to exhale some of the tension. It’s been weaving through your muscles all week, infecting all of your time, distracting you at all hours of the day. A part of you hoped it was just another phase in recovery but it just keeps getting worse and worse.
Penelope’s voice is softer when she speaks next, more cautious. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking about right now that’s distressing you?”
“It’s the fact that I’m fucking thinking that’s distressing me.”
Realizing that probably doesn’t help at all, and most likely makes you sound insane, you release your hands to clasp tightly in your lap as you raise your head to look at her again. “I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop noticing everything. I can’t stop.”
“Okay,” she gives a small nod of encouragement, sliding her notebook further into her lap to focus more attention on you. “What are you thinking about?”
“Everything. Your shirt and the noise machine and how someone could trip on it and hurt themselves. And how we are required to have 1 hour outside a day but half of us sit in the shade the entire time because it’s too hot or we don’t want to get sunburnt, and they aren’t exactly going to start stocking sunscreen and ointment just to facilitate 60 minutes in the sun. I’m thinking about how I finally figured out that there’s a different cook on the weekends and that’s why the stupid scrambled eggs they make us every day are oversalted Friday through Sunday and undersalted all the other days. I’m thinking about how all of the books in the library used to have an organization system but no one takes care of it – so all the books are all in the wrong places and now I feel like I have to take some of my free time to fix it because I know nobody else will, even though I can’t figure out why I fucking care so much. I’m thinking about how you asked me to help Eddie so he could stay here in recovery and I want to do that because he latched on to me when he first got here and now I suddenly feel responsible for him, even though I didn’t even like the guy at first, and now he won’t even fucking talk to me so I can’t do that.”
You inhale sharply, talking way too fast but unable to stop. “I’m thinking about how this facility is built to house 50 people or more but only gets one new resident a month, maybe two. So why is it so big? Why not bring in more people? Probably because they’re only accepting the people willing to turn out their wallets in order to get help or because they know someone who will so then all the people who really need help are left to fucking die under highways and in abandoned buildings because if they don’t have money, they don’t fucking mean anything to anyone. But for some reason I still care about that and feel bad about it and feel responsible for it even though there is literally nothing I could possibly do to change any of it.”
Another heaving breath that makes your chest feel too tight and you’re squeezing your eyes shut against the brunt of the pressure. “I can’t stop thinking about everything and I feel like it’s fucking crushing me and I just want something to turn my brain off – but that’s the entire fucking reason I’m here in the first place. I started using because I just wanted something to numb it all.”
The admission feels like a slap across the face. Like being dunked head first in ice water. The reality of where you started.
The sprawling, trembling fault line that led you here – to where the tectonic plates move and shift. Where the earthquakes, that used to feel like subtle vibration in the dirt beneath your feet, now knock you to the ground with ease. Standing on the edge of the chasm between that you’re still not ready to cross.
Because what’s on the other side?
And what if I fall through?
The next week of your life passes in a sort-of overwhelmed daze. The realization of that pit before you– what it means, what it could do. It hangs around like a spirit haunting your home. It’s always been there, you just couldn’t see it, too focused on your own feet and keeping them moving to see anything beyond the inches of ground in front of you.
Now, the inches of ground before you are darkness. Unfathomably deep and impenetrably dark. And on the other side, there’s sun. Grass. Trees.
Shouldn’t I want to get there? Shouldn’t I be excited to jump?
The questions follow you through your days on autopilot as you keep to your schedule.
On the two week anniversary of your argument with Eddie, Penelope announces that, instead of talking in a circle for group today, she’ll be pairing you off into partners to play games. Trust exercises, she assures you when you all look at each other like she’s lost her mind. It wasn’t the first time she had used her slot of time to do some kind of activity – but it hadn’t been something like this.
And really you should have seen it coming.
Because Queen Penelope, in her oh so infinite wisdom, points you and Eddie to a pair of chairs facing each other below the skylight. While Eddie shows little to no reaction as he shuffles over, you cast a pleading look at her. Hoping to get across some of the betrayal you’re feeling in your eyes.
She just smiles. Meets you with silence before shuffling around the other pairs of residents throughout the room.
When you sit down on the metal folding chair across from him, you get your first good look since the day after you’d argued. The last few times you’d seen him, he looked no better than a zombie – half awake and half asleep as he went through his days. He’d kept quiet for the most part in group, only adding in a sentence or two at times, and left his 1 on 1 session in the lofts with red rimmed eyes and looking about ready to pass out. But he’d also gotten into the habit of playing cards most days with his roommate, Howard. And while you couldn’t imagine the gruff old man of few words was very good company to keep, sometimes you could have sworn you’d look over and see them smiling.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking.
The both of you wordlessly adjust on the seats, warmed by the sunshine filtering through the circular window overhead. Penelope had placed the chairs close enough together that, with his long legs, you both accidentally kept knocking knees. The third time, you muttered, “Sorry,” which brought a small smile to his face.
He ends up with his knees splayed wide, hands resting on his thighs, while you bring your knees in tight together, propping your feet up on the bar beneath your chair as you settle into soft tapping of your fingertips near your knees. Beyond your apology, neither of you say a word or make any eye contact as you watch Penelope and wait for instruction.
“So, the aim of the exercise is simple,” she explains, projecting her voice slightly as her heels click along the wood, “it’s a question and answer. Going back and forth to learn more about each other, being as honest as you’re comfortable being. This is not supposed to be something that causes you intense distress. But don’t be afraid to lean into some discomfort if you feel it. You might end up discovering something valuable about yourself.”
When you glance back at Eddie, his big brown eyes are already looking at you.
A warm feeling creeps up your spine, your fingers twitching in your lap as you adjust to the unexpected attention. His expression is pensive, gentle… Soft. He doesn’t look mad, or hurt, or upset. He’s looking at you like he’s happy you’re here – sitting across from him in the subtle heat of the sun. And while you’re glad he doesn’t seem upset to be forced to speak with you, you’re more confused than anything.
In a move that surprises even yourself, you break the silence first. “Hey.”
His chest rises in a deep inhale, shoulders and arms relaxing on the long exhale before he responds. “Hey.” You offer a small, slightly awkward smile, and he mirrors it as you adjust to tuck your hands under your thighs, bringing your shoulders slightly forward. “I wanted to apologize.”
Blinking at him a few times, you manage an unsure, “Oh?”
“You were right,” he sighs, hands coming together over his abdomen to fiddle with his own fingers. “I… I needed a wakeup call. Some sense knocked into me.” The corners of his eyes pinch up in pain before he returns your eye contact again. “I’m just really, really sorry it came from hurting you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” you rush to try to assure him, pushing away the ache of the bruises that have faded from your tailbone, “I was more just shocked than anything.”
He winces, forefinger and thumb pinching some skin between his nails. “I appreciate you saying so, but you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.” His eyes cast down to your knees before he continues, “I know what a push like that can do.”
Unsure exactly how to take that statement, mind absolutely swirling with possible solutions, you swallow dryly and offer an, “Okay.”
Tense silence falls back over you both, the murmured conversations of other residents echoing throughout the open space into a white noise of unintelligible words. You sit and you wait as Eddie rubs the pads of his thumbs together, lower lip drawing up between his teeth as he continues to stare at your knees. He looks deep in thought – eyebrows twitching together a few times before he seems to remember himself again. Adjusting to sit up straighter in his chair, one of his knees knocks against the outside of yours before he clears his throat. “What are we, uh, supposed to be doing again?”
“Asking each other questions.”
A small scoff leaves his lips in a puff of air, the corner tilting up in amusement. “Like asking what’s your favorite color and shit?”
A soft smile and a smaller shake of your head, you flex your feet to point your toes toward the floor before relaxing again. “I think it’s supposed to be more drug and rehab and therapy related shit but… She really didn’t specify.”
“Ah… A tempting loophole,” he agrees, nodding his head as if he’s really thinking about it. “But I guess we should try to do what the good therapist thinks will help us, huh?”
A wistful sigh leaves you as you roll your shoulders back to sit up straighter. “I guess so. You can start.”
“Oh, shit.” You laugh softly at the awkward face he pulls when you put him on the spot, and the sound seems to put him at ease. “Okay… Oh! I asked you a couple weeks ago what you were in for. Like what you are, were, addicted to?”
A simple enough question, you answer quickly. “Oxycodone. And Alcohol. Normally together, I guess.”
If he’s surprised by your answer, he doesn’t show it, just lets out a low whistle through the side of his mouth. “Downers and downers, huh?”
“Yup,” you confirm, pressing your lips together and offering an awkward shrug. “What about you? You’ve mentioned coke and meth before…?”
“Mostly coke, meth, and alcohol,” his head rocks slowly back and forth in a nod. “But I’ve probably done a bit of everything – ecstasy, xanax, opioids, ketamine, the works.”
“Truly a man of culture,” you attempt as a joke, and his half smile tells you that you were successful.
“You could say that. So how’d you start? Using, I mean.”
“Like, where did I get it?” He shrugs and waves for you to continue with that thought. “A friend of mine, she was already involved in… All of it. And offered to connect me.”
“A stellar friend,” is his attempt at another joke.
The statement twists in your chest painfully, the cold feeling seeping out like a wrung washcloth. A sad smile and a deep breath to try to move past it. “And you? How’d you start?”
“Are you just gonna repeat all of my questions? Feels kinda unfair.”
“I’ll come up with a new one after this. Scout’s honor.”
He snorts, cracking a smile as he shakes his head again. “I don’t think you’re allowed to use that if you’re not a boy scout, but okay.” You’re about ready to retort back that he doesn’t know that you weren’t really a boy scout, but he answers your question before you can. “I was a dealer, back in high school. After my buddy Rick got arrested, I took over the mantle. Mostly just weed to suburban kids. I had other shit but didn’t sell it often. Back then, I needed the money more than I needed to sample the merchandise so… I would only smoke weed once in a blue moon when I had the extra stock.”
“As for when I really started…” He looks back down at his hands in his lap. “Our first tour. It was hectic – fucking nuts. More than we ever thought it would be. But we were living out our dream, y’know? It was like being in a fuckin’ movie sometimes.” A small, wistful smile tilts his mouth as he recalls the memories. “We were going 24/7 between the travel and the concerts and the afterparties. At one of ‘em, someone, understandably, brought the white shit.” The knuckles in his hands momentarily turn white as he grips them together, a subtle show of tension before they relax again. “You can, uh… You probably know where it goes from there.”
“I can assume, yeah,” it comes out softer than you thought it would, affected by his vulnerability. The Eddie you met on his first day would’ve never done anything like this. Would’ve never even spoken like this. How had so much changed so quickly? How had he surpassed you?
“Okay, how about…” Like he’s trying to bring some life back into himself and you, he begins a drumming tap on his thighs, shoulders rolling forward as he applies himself to the motion. You don’t bother to try to withhold your laugh, feeling your nose crinkle with the force of it. His chin tips up towards the sun, a cheeky grin splitting to show the whites of his teeth as he starts to hum a single note out into the open space, an over dramatic representation of his thinking.
“Eddie!”
The sharp call has both of you freezing, faces dropping as you slowly turn toward where Penelope stands with her hands on her hips and a deep scowl. “A little quieter, please?”
Your lips press together tight to withhold your laugh as he offers her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
When he turns back to you, looking a little embarrassed and thoroughly scolded, you can stop the laugh from escaping you in a snort through your nose. “It’s not funny,” he mutters, lower lip jutting out in a pout as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“You got in trouble with mom,” you whisper yell, leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “It’s kinda funny.”
His expression breaks – smile stretching against his will as you make fun of him. “Yeah, yeah. I bet you’ve never even gotten in trouble before. Ever. At all.”
Taking it as a challenge, a single eyebrow raises as you lean back into your chair. “Is that your question?”
Intrigue showing clearly, he nods, hair shifting from behind him over his shoulders as he does so. “Sure, that feels close enough to the topic. Have you ever gotten in trouble before?”
Tapping the tip of your finger against your chin, you make a small show of trying to think about it even though you already know what you’re going to say. “Three times come to mind.”
“Three?!” He gasps, hand flying to his chest in mock drama. “Say it ain’t so.”
“First, I convinced my grandfather to buy this huge box of ice creams for dogs. He thought it was for us so, when he walked into the kitchen, and I was holding it down for my dog to lick, he immediately started to yell at me. When I told him that’s what it was meant for, I swear to god – I thought he was going to pop a fucking blood vessel he was so mad.”
Eddie snorts as he shakes his head back and forth slowly. “That would be the kind of thing you’d consider getting in trouble.”
“Hey!” You point an accusing finger at him, falling into this comfortable dynamic between the two of you. “I’m not done yet!” Putting his hands up in surrender, he mimes pulling a zipper across his mouth as he settles down to look at you again. “The second… Well, I got called to the principal's office in high school. Because,” you take a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable reaction you’ll get, “because some kids were spreading a rumor that I was sleeping with a teacher.”
This finally seems to entertain him, jaw dropping slightly as his eyes widen. “Well, did you?!”
“No!” You’re quick to deny, voice rising slightly in pitch as you do. His chin dips down, looking up through his eyelashes at you, extremely unconvinced. “I mean, I probably could have, but I didn’t want to!”
His head rocks back as another low whistle presses out of the corner of his mouth. “Wow, sunshine… Now that’s some juicy gossip. Have you mentioned that one to Melissa?”
Your foot kicks out, knocking into his shin hard enough for him to sit up straighter in surprise. “Shut it, Munson.”
“Okay, okay! Sorr-ee, geeze.” And yet he’s nothing but smiles as he returns to making eye contact with you. “And third?”
“Third was definitely drug related.” You’re quick to amend, tucking your hands back under your thighs. “I was picking up some oxy after completely running out. Desperate enough that I went to his apartment while the sun was up – which I always tried not to do.” His head dips in acknowledgment, showing he’s actively listening as you continue. “It must have been my lucky day because the bag was barely in my hand before the door slams open, police screaming his name and boots stomping inside.” Adrenaline kicking up slightly at the memory, you can vividly picture the way your skinhead dealer went deathly pale in mere seconds at the noise. “It was a good thing that I wasn’t on anything that day because before I knew it, I was out the window, down the fire escape, across the alley, and over a fence. I didn’t stop running until I ducked into a Walmart – hiding in the crowd.”
“Damn.” He sighs, looking impressed but attempting to sound disappointed. “There’s a bit of a rebel in you after all.”
And while you’re not exactly sure if it’s something to be proud of, you’re at least happy to earn his approval as you raise your chin slightly. “See? More to me than meets the eye.”
The moment between you stretches out a bit too long as he seems to appraise you, a soft smile made warmer by sparkling eyes. It takes some conscious effort not to react to his study – heart thumping hard in your chest a few times before he agrees. “Pretty metal, I’ll give you that.”
Exhaling some of the tension in your shoulders, relaxing more into your chair, you’re quick to try to move on from talking about you. “You said you were dealing because you needed the money. Were you saving up to move out or something?”
His expression shifts, smile turning awkward as he brings a hand up to hook behind his neck, bent arm laying beside his chest. “Not exactly.” Giving him your full attention and what you hope is an encouraging smile, he takes a deep breath before he begins. “I moved in with my uncle when I was a kid. My dad’s brother Wayne. My parents weren’t…” His mouth presses into a thin line as he tries to think of how to phrase it. “My dad ended up in jail and my mom didn’t have it in her to be a single mom. Hadn’t worked in a long time, didn’t have the money, all that. So she dropped me off with my uncle with a promise to try to get her life together and come back.”
The implication there is heavy enough, sorrow settling into your gut like a brick, but he still adds, “That, uh… That never happened. So it was just me and Wayne and his one bedroom trailer in a small town in Indiana.” His arm drops from his neck, hands coming together in his lap so he can fidget with his own fingers again. “He did the best he could for a guy who never expected to have a kid – more than I could ever ask for. Gave me his room, worked night shifts at the power plant to bring in cash, made sure the pantry was never empty. But it was more than that, y’know? He is… He taught me how to change the oil of my car, how to fix the little AC unit in my window, how to tie a tie.”
His lips part in a smile, his eyes far off as he tells you, “we used to play cards a lot. I swear, no one has a better poker face than Wayne. You wouldn’t guess it from the looks of him, but he used to make a killing in Texas Hold ‘em back before I came into the picture.” His face drops slightly at that, eyebrows tipping up in an emotion that he’s quick to shake off. “But he has a tell – I learned when I was 13. When he’s bluffing, he’ll do a little sniff as he’s leaning back from raising. It’s really hard to tell but it’s there.” His excitement grows again, fidgeting in his hands ceasing. “He had this crazy collection of hats and mugs, and the one time I accidentally knocked one off the shelf and it broke – man,” he exhales, shaking his head. “I thought he was gonna cry. Never that he was gonna scream or yell or try to hit me or send me away. He would just get so sad, like he was about to start tearing up, and I’d always fold – scrambling to apologize and asking what I could do to make it better.”
Brown eyes flick back up to yours, quickly followed by a dusting of pink across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. As if realizing he was getting off track, he clears his throat and says, “Anyway. It was always a struggle for him to get by, having to feed a boy with the appetite of a fucking rhino and everything else on top of that. So, when I got old enough, I started looking for anything I could do to bring some cash in. To try to… I mean, I could never repay him but like, to at least try to help, y’know?” You nod, not sure if he was actually looking for confirmation but he seems to appreciate the gesture regardless. “So I was doing odd jobs and started getting involved with stuff and eventually became an errand boy to Reefer Rick. Who I took over for when he got put away.”
Sensing a pause in his story, or at least what you perceive as one, you can’t withhold your curiosity as you press for more answers. “Is Wayne still alive? Like are you two still close?”
His face falls, that heavy feeling in your gut following closely after. “He’s alive, at least, as far as I know.” His attention is off in nowhere again as he visibly shrinks back as far as he can into the metal chair. “I went back to see him a year or so ago. I wasn’t doing so hot – couldn’t seem to even get out of bed without a line. He caught on pretty quick what was going on. Got more mad than I’d ever seen him.” He swallows harshly, attempting to get rid of the lump he feels growing there. “We both said some nasty shit – how he wasn’t really my dad and didn’t know what he was talking about. And he said I was turning into my dad, that I’d never looked more like him than I did that day. I stormed out. And we haven’t talked since.”
Your heart bleeds for the defeat you can see in his expression, the pain in the way he explains. How heavy it must be for him to carry that. While your first instinct is to offer apologies and words of comfort that really won’t matter much in the end, you settle for looking to the future. “Are you gonna reach out to him again? When you get clean?”
“I…” He looks confused then, hand coming up to rub at his forehead roughly before he settles. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Taking a deep breath of your own, you muster up some courage. “It’s not my place, at all, so feel free to tell me to fuck right off but… I feel like you should. I think he’d be happy for you.”
The sentiment rocks him – face twisting in a mix of emotions before he brings up both hands like he’s going to rub them off of his face. “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”
Silence falls, heavier like it was before. The momentary comradery falling away to reality again – two strangers trying to figure out what the hell they were doing. The tension in the air is palpable, at least to you, as he continues to stare off for another minute or two because coming back into himself.
“So…” He clears his throat, anxiously adjusting in his seat and knocking against your knee again. “What made you decide to get help?”
The million dollar question.
Another thing you feel like you should’ve seen coming, should’ve prepared for in advance. But here you are: sitting across from a stranger you feel inexplicably tied to and faced with a question you still don’t know the answer to. The question that has hung over your head for the past week and half.
Why are you trying to get better?
“Well, ending up here – like, in rehab – was easier than the alternative. So that part wasn’t hard.” The skin between his eyebrows folds as he looks at you, a bit confused but not interrupting to ask for clarification as you continue. “As for why I’m getting help…”
The rest hangs there, suspended by hesitation. Uncertainty blooms in your chest like a burst of frozen air – like blue tipped fingers gripping your heart in their fist. A threat and a warning.
Eddie hits the toe of his shoe against yours, bringing your attention back to him. “You don’t have to answer. Not if… You don’t have to.”
And the sun is shining down on him from the skylight above, casting him in a glow. A soft auburn hue shines in his wiry hair, the red undertones coming forward in the sun. He’s still pale but you can see them now – freckles across his face and the skin just beyond the collar of his shirt like a dusting of cinnamon. Brown eyes that have a bit more life in them than they did before.
There’s still a sense of frost beneath his skin, half alive and freezing like it used to be, but it’s thawing. Warming. Before your eyes and beneath the light of day, Eddie Munson was coming out of his cold shadows, one small step at a time.
“But you can't just leave it at that!" said Anathema, pushing forward. "Think of all things you could do! Good things."
"Like what?"
“I guess I’m still trying to figure it out.” Out comes the honest truth. Truth he wasn’t expecting based on the way his eyebrows raise, skin wrinkling beneath his bangs. “It feels like there should be this big reason – some grand goal or something that would be a good answer in a biography. And I don’t really have one of those. Not right now.”
There’s a long pause then, like he wants to make sure you’re not going to say anything else before he replies. “I don’t think it has to be something fantastical or anything like that. Maybe it would be a better story if it was but… I dunno, I think any reason is as good as any other.”
A self-deprecating smile and joking change of tone, you ask him, “Even if my reason is just because I want to make more bad jokes that people can’t decide if they want to laugh or groan at?”
His answering smile is filled with genuine determination when he tells you, “I think that’s a fucking stellar reason, sunshine.”
Your 60th day of rehab comes with a party.
Not for you, of course. It would be a lot of resources for the center to celebrate arbitrary anniversaries like that for every resident. No, this is a graduation party. A going away party. A ‘see you never’ kind of party.
When you walk back into the main hall after group, there’s a hastily made banner hung between the nurse’s station and the kitchen that says ‘Happy Graduation Tony!’ in shades of blue and yellow, with some splashes of green mixed in. There’s a weird animal drawn on the right side that you can’t identify – but you guess it’s supposed to be a wolverine based on the ‘Go Michigan Wolverines!’ underneath in blocky text.
There are various basketball-themed party decorations scattered throughout the tables, all looking like they came from a big wholesale package of party favors. It looks alarmingly like an 8 year old’s birthday party, but Tony’s smile is brighter than you’ve ever seen it as he laughs at the attempt Kathy, Melissa, and Thomas made at decorating for him.
The University of Michigan Wolverines is his favorite college basketball team, he explains to the rest of you as you look on confused. He gives Thomas a joyful ribbing at having remembered a comment like that in passing, and Thomas’ bashful smile makes even Howard soften with fondness as you all filter in among the tables. There’s music playing – a Best of 80’s CD spinning in a shitty old speaker system in the corner of the main hall that is barely used. Down Under by Men at Work plays softly as you settle down at one of the tables covered in plastic-y yellow, feeling lighter than you have in weeks watching Tony cross the room to where there’s a small selection of snacks and a sheet cake with his name written on it.
Eddie sits down beside you at the same time Howard sits down across from him, the older man immediately brandishing his deck of cards and arcing them into a professional shuffle. Lola, the newest resident, an older woman who kept taking morphine long after her hip surgery healed, sits down uneasily next to Howard, content to quietly watch him deal out the cards between himself and Eddie.
Switching back and forth between watching Eddie and Howard playing a game you can’t seem to identify and watching Melissa and Kathy grill Tony about what he’s going to do first when he gets out, you feel a sort of contentment. An emotion you’re so unused to, you’re not really sure what to do with it now that it’s sitting in front of you.
Two games in, Eddie drops his cards with a groan before pointing an accusing finger at Howard, who smirks in pride. “This isn’t over, Finbar.” And while your eyebrows draw together in confusion, lips parting in preparation to ask, Eddie keeps going before you can. “I’m going to go grab a water and some cookies, anyone want me to get anything while I’m up?”
Howard waves him off without a word, huffing as he has to lift up slightly off his chair to pull in the cards Eddie left on the other side of the table so he can shuffle the deck together again. Lola, in her syrupy, southern drawl, asks for a cup of water, if he doesn’t mind. A short nod and then he looks down from where he stands beside your seat, a gentle smile on his face as his eyebrows raise in expectancy. The words get caught in your throat for a moment before you are able to force them out. “A cup of water and some chocolate chip cookies would be great. Thank you.”
Another cheeky smile and a dip of his head and he’s walking off, lanky legs knocking against a chair or two like he’s a newborn calf who hasn’t learned how to walk steady yet. The sight makes you laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you turn back to the table.
Lola is watching you, eyes slightly narrowed, when you turn back, making you jolt backwards in surprise. “Y’all make a cute couple,” she says sweetly, with a smile just a kind as always.
“Couple?” You question in a slightly higher pitch, feeling the blood rushing north to warm your face and make your brain spin. “We’re – we’re not a couple. Just friends. We just met here, only a few weeks ago.”
“No?” Her head tilts in curiosity, but her expression reads like she knows something you don’t. Can see something you can’t. “That’s a shame. Looks like a match made in Heaven to me.”
Your jaw drops, mouth opening and closing uselessly, as you try to think of something you could possibly say to that when Eddie walks back up, shakily balancing three plastic cups of water between his hands and a packet of napkin wrapped something tucked under his chin. The waters are safely set on the table, one passed to Lola, who replies “thank you, sugar,” before he lifts his head, the packet falling directly into his now-free hands. Dropping into his chair, he sets the packet on the table before unfolding the white napkins to reveal several slightly smushed cookies.
“Oh,” he blinks a few times at them before offering you a sheepish smile. “Guess they didn’t quite survive the journey. Hope you don’t mind picking at crumbs?”
You shake your head, mischief infusing your smile as you tell him, “I don’t mind, I’ve always thought it would be kind of cool to be a pigeon.”
He snorts in amusement at the same time Howard rolls his eyes and Lola uses her hand to cover her smile. The mix of reactions is perfect – exactly what you were hoping for – as you pinch a big chunk of cookie between your fingers and pop it into your mouth while Howard deals out another hand of cards.
Your contentment continues through the next hour or two, watching as Eddie and Howard go back and forth between winning hands while songs play on – Come On, Eileen, followed by Pretty in Pink, and Africa.
When Melissa shrilly announces it’s time to cut the cake, everyone turns toward the front of the room while Billie Jean by Michael Jackson weaves its way into the open air. Tony laughs at himself and how his hands shake in nervousness, making jokes about how he feels like he’s at a wedding, as he cuts into the sheet cake directly through his name. Using the plastic serving utensil, he deposits a huge square on his paper plate, the ‘o’ from his name completely removed as everyone cheers and claps.
Looking incredibly embarrassed, he turns and gives a little bow to the crowd, missing Kathy as she reaches over the table to grab the huge slice. A sing-song call of his name, and you all watch as he turns and is met with the slice of cake to the face, white frosting smearing across his skin before the entire plate hits the floor with a dull slap. No one moves for a few moments, quiet enough you could hear a pin drop, until he starts to laugh. Almost the entire room joins in, cackling as he scoops frosting away from his eyes and shakes it out onto the floor.
Everyone who wants a slice of cake moves through to grab one before settling back down at the tables. And when you look over at Tony, glowing as he has an animated conversation with Melissa, you can see a small smearing of frosting across his cheek that no one seems willing to tell him is still there.
You all say goodbye to him that evening before the sun sets, watching as he departs out of the double doors with a bag slung over his shoulder and is immediately met by a young boy – a Michigan Wolverines jersey on his back as he tackles Tony around the waist in a tight hug. The doors click closed just as Tony’s hand meets the boy’s head in a rub, both sporting the exact same bright smile.
Despite being back on good terms, Eddie continues to sit across the room from you during group therapy sessions. You kind of like it better than way, not that you’d ever admit it to him. Sometimes you find yourself looking over for reactions to things people say and it makes it easier to give him your full attention when he adds to the conversation. Being able to sneak glances without it being too obvious makes you feel a bit more comfortable than before.
And although you feel like you’ve been making progress, you still rarely join in the conversation in these group circle sessions, and you never talk about yourself in them. Penelope has never tried to push you – she is satisfied as long as you continue to make progress in 1 on 1 sessions. Talking in a group setting isn’t for everyone, she explained, but it can sometimes be more beneficial than you think it might be.
It just never struck you as something you wanted to do. It never spoke to you, as some people said. Besides, other people always had plenty they wanted to say after Penelope did a bit of prodding.
“I talked to my husband on the phone the other day,” Kathy admits following a small silence. She’s playing with the drawstrings on her sweatpants as she speaks. “We haven’t talked in a couple weeks – the kids have been staying with my mom while I’m here.”
Penelope shifts in her chair to face her more directly. “How did that go?”
“Bad,” she answers with a sigh, eyes falling closed for a second before she forces them back open. “I guess I was just hoping he misses me… Misses the kids, misses our life. But he actually seems like he’s happier now.”
“That must’ve hurt to think about.”
“It did. It does.” She takes a deep breath, eyebrows turning up in what looks like an attempt not to cry. “It’s hard to think that picturing going back home to be with him and Sarah and Ben is what really gets me through all this but he… It doesn’t seem like that’s what he pictures anymore.”
“No offense, Kathy, but he sounds like a dickhead.”
Her and Penelope both turn on Eddie, looking surprised and annoyed in that order. “Eddie, that’s not very nice.”
“No, it’s not,” he concedes, hands coming into play as he tucks his elbows into either side of his waist, “but neither is the way he treats you. I mean, the whole reason you ended up here is because he refused to help you – with anything! Ever! And left you to take care of him and the kids and the house and everything.”
Kathy’s face twists, looking conflicted. “Well, yes, but–”
“But he works to put food in the fridge. That’s what you’re gonna say, right?” Her mouth presses into a tight line before giving him a sharp nod. “And yeah, that’s important. Having money to survive is essential and all that. But so is taking care of yourself. And your kids. Taking care of your house. Those are all things people should try to do the best they can. Sure, a lot of people fall short sometimes. It can really suck trying to get everything done by yourself. But that’s what your partner is supposed to be for. To help you.”
Everyone watches on silently as Eddie continues, looking entirely impassioned in his defense of her. “Yeah, he works a job. But you work three jobs just trying to take care of yourself, him, and both your kids. It’s not fair. And it’s fucked up that he not only doesn’t do shit to help but also doesn’t appreciate how much fucking work it is for you and the fact that it was killing you.”
“I mean, that’s just how marriage works,” she tries to argue. “Men go to work and women take care of the house and the kids. I’m sure that’s how your parents did it.”
“No,” he answers with a humorless chuckle, “not even close.”
“Then what did they do?”
“My dad beat my mom.”
The room falls into a tense hush, all eyes on him. While a part of him still looks worked up from his debate with Kathy, and another looks angry at even admitting the fact, the rest of him looks like an exposed nerve. His shoulders shake slightly as he takes in a breath and lets it out just as slow. “He wasn’t… He wasn’t a good guy, my dad. Kind of a piece of shit actually. In and out of prison on assault, drug charges, petty theft, the works. And whenever he was out, he was coked out of his mind and making my mom’s life a living hell.”
Brown eyes descend to the floor as his voice wavers, clearing his throat to try to fix it. “I remember one time, I was 6? Maybe 7? My mom was trying to convince me to do my homework at the kitchen table. And in storms dear old dad, fresh snow on his nose, and already screaming.” His eyes close, hands clenching with white knuckles. “Mom always made sure to get in between us. She didn’t want him to hurt me. But I guess he was mad at me for something, and her getting in the way was even worse, because before I knew it she was on the floor.”
Teary eyes open, glancing up and meeting your gaze. Eyes entirely focused on you as a few tears escape with his blinks. “I can see it so clearly, y’know? My mom was on the floor, bruises around her eyes, begging him to stop. And my dad was standing over her with his fists clenched like he was ready to go another round.”
I know what a push like that can do.
Your mouth opens wordlessly when you realize – chest twisting in agony as he offers you a sad and knowing smile.
“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Because I don’t wanna end up like my dad.”
A feeling in the base of your stomach catches hot and burns. Ashes smolder and leak smoke up your esophagus until it brings tears to your eyes. Beneath the dull roar of your blood in your ears and the murmured ‘Thank you for sharing’ from Penelope, you can hear the tremble of the earth beneath your feet. A vibration that rumbles up through your bones in a cold shiver that breaks out across your back. Stones fall into the chasm before you as the world shakes and bends with the force of the quake.
You stare into the cold darkness of the space between the tectonic plates and the cold darkness stares back.
“I have something I want to talk about.”
All eyes turn to you, a pair of wide brown iris the most important of all. Penelope is nothing but encouraging as she says, “By all means, what would you like to say?”
A deep breath in, an attempt to clear the smoke in your lungs, you force the words out into the open. “I… I want to talk about how I got here.” You pause, eyes leaving Eddie to glance over at Penelope to register her shock. “Why I’m here. Because I’ve never told anyone.”
“Okay,” is her simple reply, an attempt to be encouraging. But you’re already faltering, the cold creeping in and dampening the ashes until you return to making eye contact with Eddie. And while his expression shows very little, attention wholly focused on you, he does dip his head in a slight nod.
Go ahead, the movement says. You can do this.
“Two days before I got here, I was with my friend Luna.” The name feels like ice water down your throat, swallowing hard to try to push past it and keep going. “Luna was the one who got me into taking oxy in the first place. I’d told her I was too wound up all the time and couldn’t relax, too caught up in my head. She told me it would help. We’d been friends for a long time by that point. She… She’s my best friend. She saw me at my worst and didn’t blink an eye. And maybe it was a fucked up way of helping, but she was really just trying to help. Suggesting what she thought would help.”
“That day, she called me all excited. Saying she got some pills from a new guy and she couldn’t wait to try them. So I went over to her place like we always did. She was all excited about the new stuff, but in my head, it was just the same shit, so I told her I was going to take from the old stash of pills. I guess I didn’t want to waste them or something. She just kinda said whatever, your loss, didn’t fight me on it.”
The visuals start to press in now, like a slideshow playing behind your eyes. “I remember waking up in her bed. It was dark. I don’t know how long I was out for. I got up,” your feet hit pink shag carpet, “I called her name,” you look around the girly bedroom, barely lit by the lamp on the bedside table. “I was still pretty out of it. I walked out from around the bed and…”
Your eyes squeeze shut, head shaking to try to clear the images like an etch-a-sketch. It doesn’t work.
“She was on the floor. I thought maybe she was just in it but her – her lips a–and her fingers were blue and she wasn’t breathing. I called 911 but… She was already cold when they told me to check for a pulse.”
“Those new pills she was so excited to take were laced. Fentanyl. She overdosed. And… And maybe if I had been awake, y’know?” When you blink back into the room, there are tears pouring from your eyes, your breath coming in hiccuping gasps. Cutting yourself off from any more what if’s, you rub your forearm under your nose as you sniffle. “Anyway, I got picked up when the ambulance came. I don’t really know why they gave me the option but it was basically rehab or jail so it felt kind of like a no brainer.”
You huff a wet laugh, crossing your arms over your stomach as you try to fight back the sobs, breathing through the freezing cold feeling in your chest. “It’s easier to be here. Then to think about leaving,” you admit softly, eyes trained on Eddie’s shoes. “In here, I don’t have to see her stuff around my place. I don’t have to think about who I’m going to spend my Saturday’s with. I don’t… In here, I don’t have to face the fact that she’s gone.”
When your eyes meet his, they’re watery again. Red rimmed, swollen. His hands open and close on his thighs like he’s holding himself back. Pale, pink-toned fingers, cast in warm, gentle light from the sun above, that look like they want nothing more than to reach out to you.
Blue tipped fingers reach out from the cold below, a threat and a warning of what lies before you if you fail. But on the other side – the sun shines. There’s grass and cherry blossom trees and birds singing and music playing and life.
“She’s dead. And I can’t get her back. But I’m still here, and I still have a future. I… I want there to be a future.”
You jump the gap.
Bright green grass folds beneath your sneakers as you cross the field, hand raised along your brow to search for a familiar face. It’s the first Saturday of July and there are people everywhere – blankets and lawn chairs and folding tables set up across the wide open greenery ringed with trees.
A familiar whistle echoes toward you, giving you a vague direction to continue your trek. Sweat collects at the base of your neck and trickles down your spine as you go, the heat of the summer sun bearing down despite your careful choice in clothing. You’re just about desperate for a drink when a familiar flop of brown hair catches your eye.
“Steve?” You call, hoping to confirm before you walk all the way over. His head swivels in a full circle before his eyes catch you, a grin stretching across his face as he waves you over.
Steve is a relatively new friend, you’ve only hung out with him a handful of times since you were introduced. He’s shirtless, cotton discarded after sweating through it, and a pair of shorts that show off an alarming large amount of his tan skin. He’s tucked under a large umbrella with Robin, another new friend. She’s draped over a beach chair with her head rolled back, an unbuttoned shirt hanging off her shoulders over a bikini top and a pair of oversized shorts. The closer you get to their blanket in the grass, the more clearly her complaining becomes.
“It’s so fucking hot,” she moans, arms flopped down beyond the sides of the chair. “Why did I agree to this?”
“The music is going to start soon, so shut it, Buckley.” He turns toward you, head tilting back as he braces his arms on his knees. “Hey, good to see you.”
“You too,” you set your things on one edge of the picnic blanket, dropping to your knees at the boundary of where the umbrella covers. “And good to see you too Rob, even though it looks like you’re actually melting.” She groans loudly, sliding further down in her chair as you laugh. “Speaking of melting, cooler?”
Steve heaves it over his lap toward you and opens the lid, twisting back toward another bag as you dig through the melting ice and drinks. Drink in hand and an ice cube in the other, you use your elbow to close the lid again before pressing the ice cube to the nape of your neck in an attempt to get some relief from the heat.
Just as your mouth opens to ask, you hear an, “Incoming!” ring out right before a heavy object makes impact with your side, knocking you into the cooler with a yelp. The furry projectile pants wildly as it rights itself from its sprawl across the blanket, paws immediately climbing up onto your thighs in a happy greeting.
“Hey Oz,” you laugh, chin receding into your neck as you try to dodge his eager licks toward your mouth. “Are you having a good day, buddy?”
“He better be after the fucking pain in my ass he’s been all morning.”
Both hands scratching at the dog’s ears, both to calm him and keep him away from your face, you tilt your head back to catch sight of warm brown eyes. Eddie’s hair is pulled up into a messy bun on the back of his head, the wisps by his ears and parts of his bangs slicked down with sweat. He’s in a tank top that looks like a modified graphic tee, arm holes cut absurdly low to show off almost the entirety of his tattooed ribs. As he settles onto the blanket beside you, the light wash ripped cut off shorts he’s wearing stretch further to show more of his thighs.
His arm loops around your back, hand pressing into your ear as he directs your head lower so he can press a happy kiss to your temple. “Hey sunshine. Have any trouble finding us?”
The heat suddenly feels more like it’s diffusing from the inside out as your smile grows. You shake your head as you sit up straight again, Eddie’s arm still propped behind your back. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I could hear your stupid dog whistle from space.”
“Hey!” He cries in mock offense, leaning away from you as he yanks on the purple plastic whistle around his neck. “The training is going really well with it, actually! So shove it.” And he ducks down toward the pup sitting in front of you, coming to eye level as he says, “Isn’t that right, Ozzy?” The dog lunges forward in an attempt to lick his face but Eddie’s expecting it, blocking the attack and using a gentle force to push the dog down onto his side. “Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy!” He chants as he rapidly rubs the pup’s stomach, both of them shaking with excitement.
“Munson, you’re gonna work him up again and the fuckin’ music is about to start!”
Eddie sighs in disappointment, slowing his scratches and rubs considerably, running his hands along fur in an attempt to calm the dog. “I know, buddy. Your mom is so lame and doesn’t know how to have fun.”
Steve levels another glare at him, leaning back on one arm as he complains, “I’m not his mom. We’re both dads, dude.”
“Don’t listen to him, Ozzy. That man is your mom and you know it.”
The dog doesn’t care either way but does settle, laying out long with his belly in the sun just as some speaker feedback echoes out into the space around you.
“Finally!” Robin sighs in relief, pulling her sunglasses down her nose as she lifts her head. “I was starting to think we were roasting out here for nothing. Might as well be in Hell for how hot it is outside.”
Steve snorts, cracking open a gatorade as he explains, “Pretty sure Hell would be way hotter than this.”
“How do you know, dingus? Have you been?”
And the two start to bicker, something you’ve come to learn is a pretty common occurrence. Tuning out of their platonic marital dispute, you look back toward your boyfriend only to find him already looking at you.
“If Hell is this hot, I never wanna go,” you joke, vaguely aware of the sweat that continues to collect on your skin and how much you dislike the feeling.
“I dunno babe,” Eddie sighs long and loud, head tilting your direction as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, smile tilting in mischief. “It is said that the Devil has all the best tunes.”
The cherry blossoms in your chest unfurl in the heat of the sun, petals stretching out at the same rate as the smile parting to show the whites of your teeth. A soft laugh of disbelief, a grin that matches your own, and you’re quoting Good Omens back at him by saying, “It’s true. But Heaven has the best choreographers.”
And he laughs. Head thrown back, the sun’s rays grace the planes of his face as he barks out laughter into the blue sky above. Robin and Steve look at each other confused before shrugging slightly and then you’re laughing too. Falling backwards onto the blanket beneath you, you roll with it, shoulder knocking against Eddie’s when he falls backwards too.
Warm with the heat of the day, the music pouring out across the field, and the hope of a day just as bright tomorrow – you and Eddie laugh like it’s the best joke you’ve ever heard. Like there would never be a better joke than this.
If you want to imagine the future: imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.
― Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
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thank you so much for reading. the response to this story was more than i thought it would be and i hope you're satisfied with the ending. i'm grateful you chose to come on this journey with me. i hope you find your way to greener grass and gentle sun whenever you're ready to find it <3
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson hurt/comfort#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#myos ideas#myo4munson
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hii. can i request a very dark non-con/dub-con modern aemond fic?
they are college classmates and they got a project together. they are not friends and they haven't talk to eachother, but due to the project, they have to met in the library of the university. while they are doing their project (probably philosophy or history) she explains her point of view in like politics or something like that and he disagrees, so they argue a bit about it and he, for some reason, gets hard listening to her. he asks her to stand up and when she does, he kisses her very roughly. she is confused and when she asks him what is going on he ignores her, he rips her tights (she is wearing a skirt) and begins to fuck her without even preparing her, she clearly doesn't understand what is happening but at some point she starts to feel pleasure, yet she is worried because he is fucking her in the table of a public library. at the end, she tells him to don't come inside of her because she isn't on birth control but he does it anyway.
oh also if you could add some size kink? like she is so small and easy for him to manhandle her and it is really hard for her to take his dick lol. just very dark kinky smut. thank you and sorry if i am asking for too much! <3
This Will Hurt
A/N: I’ll need to repent after this. Hahaha. Anyway I loved writing this and I think I followed the idea very well. But this is very dark so please all keep this in mind. Definitely my darkest fic so far. Also sorry for any differences in vocabulary obviously I’m from the UK so university and college are the same thing.
Requests are still open.
Warnings: Super dark fic. Non con. Dub con. 18+. Full on smut.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Word count: 1.7k
Anxiety crept into your bones as you scampered off the bus, trying to get to university library as fast as you possibly could. You had completely forgotten about your study session with Aemond, only realising halfway through a few drinks at the pub with your housemates. You were a complete mess after rushing between your flat and back to campus to be able to make it. Not only were you fifteen minutes late for the study session but you barely knew your project partner and this was definitely not the greatest first impression.
When you finally got to the library, you had to quickly run to the bathroom to sort yourself out, before making your way up the library elevator.
It wasn't till you made your way to the very back of the library that you found Aemond. He was situated in a book, carefully reading with his laptop beside him. He didn't bother to glance up when you placed your bag beside him, perching down in the seat and taking out your stuff.
"You're late," Aemond hissed, his eye glaring at you from the side.
Of course the most studious person on your course was going to be so aggravated about you being fifteen minutes late. Gods, why did your lecturer have to pair you up with him?
"Sorry," you muttered, pulling out your laptop and setting up the rest of your stuff.
Within half an hour you were both deep in thought as you begun different parts of your research project. Aemond barely bothered to speak to you and when ever you made a comment he would only make a hum in reply. You found Aemond tediously boring, hoping there would have been more to the quiet mysterious boy in class.
Aemond felt similarly towards you. While he had thought you were fairly attractive, especially in that skin tight skirt that hugged your figure, you were nothing more than that. All beauty and no brains.
His head lifted as he looked over your shoulder and onto your notes. Something peeked his interest as he scoffed turning back to his own notes.
"Something amusing?" You asked, turning to look at him now.
"Your notes they are very… biased," Aemond stated, leaning back in his chair.
"They aren't if they are backed up with sources," you stated, pointing at the clear quotes on your notes.
"I'm sure you could find some sources that would also contradict those statements," he told you, frowning slightly as his tone became abrasive.
"I'm sure you have something you really want to enlighten me with," you mocked, giving him a wicked smirk as you swivelled towards him. "Go on then, enlighten me."
"Well the Cold War isn't just due to American and Soviet aggression," he laughed in exasperation, chest tightening as he glared down at you. "It's due to so many other factors like the Second World War. You can't just rule these facts out. Also, you can't argue it's the mainly due to American's hatred towards communism just because you yourself hate capitalism."
"I never said I hated capitalism," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Well, do you hate capitalism?" Aemond questioned, lips curled into a tight smile.
"I despise it actually," you confirmed, scowling back at him.
"See you base your argument on opinion," Aemond argued, voice growing louder. Luckily enough hardly any one was around definitely not bothering to be in the library this late in the evening. "This is where you will lose marks-"
"I do not base my sole argument on one point," you interrupted, practically shouting at him. "If you had taken a look at all of my notes you would see that it was the basis of my argument. In fact it makes very much sense that the American aggression towards communism and its constant need to colonise the rest of the world was what started the very conflict between the USSR and USA..."
Aemond was entranced as you continued to argue your point, completely thrown off by how you stood up for yourself. Maybe he was wrong about you, there were some intelligence inside that brain of yours. The way you argued your point face growing red and flustered, body tensing as you continued to point back to your notes was turning him on. His trousers felt suddenly tight and constricting as he watched you babble on.
"Aemond?" You raised a brow unsure if he was even listening to you anymore as he stood speechless before you.
He hummed as if he had been listening the whole time.
You rolled your eyes and scoffed loudly about to turn back to your notes.
"Stand up," he barked, standing up himself.
"What?" You stated up at him completely baffled.
"Stand up."
The way he held your stare so intense as his jaw clenched tightly. You found yourself standing obediently.
Your mouth opened slightly to snap back at him but Aemond forcefully shoved his lips onto yours. He yanked your resisting body towards his and practically threw your small frame onto the table. Your hands pushed and punched at him but he was stronger than you as he kept your hold on him.
You twisted your neck away, catching a breath of air as your face turned to the side. "What are you doing?" You protested, clawing at him.
His violet eye was dark and dilated as he looked down at you, bunching your skirt up to your waist. You crawled away from him, throwing the books off the table as you tried to get further away. Aemond dragged you back down by your legs, holding your body down with his weight as his hand made his way between your legs.
"Stop please," you pleaded, fear corsing through your body as tears welled in your eyes. "Aemond, seriously."
Your voice grew louder and with that Aemond was pressing his lips on to yours again. His hand slipped under your top, quickly groping at your tits. He groaned into your mouth tasting you and your tears as you weakly protested.
His hands reached between your thighs ripping at the tights that covered your panties. His fingers breeched your thong and Aemond was glad for such thin material shredding it away to leave him easy access.
"Please, Aemond. Stop," you sobbed, body shaking from terror at what was going on. Your mind clearly fogged as you stopped fighting against him, paralysed to the core at what was about to happen.
Aemond ignored your crying as he pressed sweet kisses along your jaw. His massive body pressed further on to you, leaving your frame crammed between him and the table.
"Shhh now," Aemond hummed into your ear, his mouth greedily sucking on your neck. "This will hurt a bit."
You hadn't realised he had unbuttoned his trousers as you felt his tip nudge at your entrance. You gasped in realisation, twisting away.
"No, no," you repeated, whimpering pathetically.
His hand covered your mouth as he slid his cock down your slit, positioning himself against your entrance. He was surprised at your slight arousal but he knew with his size it would hurt regardless.
"Be quiet," he whispered, looking from side to side at the area around you. “You don’t want someone to catch us now.”
Aemond thrusted himself into you, groaning into your ear as he felt how tight you were around his cock. The size of him felt so painful as he slid in and out of you, making you scream into his hands. But Aemond didn’t let up as he continued at his agonisingly slow pace, savouring the moment.
You feel yourself tensing as he teased your clit, circling it with his thumb. Finally you started to feel pleasure as he hit into your harder your sobs turned into whimpers under his hand. Your wetness started to coat him, making it easy for him to thrust in and out of you. Your pussy clenched around him drawing himself closer to the edge.
“Fuck your so tight around me,” he hissed, pushing his lips onto yours as he removed his hand. His hand now gripped onto your hips and hit into you deeper and harder than before, his thumb not giving up as it rubbed faster against your clit.
A moan escaped your lips, his name falling from your tongue and into his mouth as he kissed you feverishly. As the bundle of nerves built in your stomach, your mind become clouded, not able to even think about fighting against him.
Aemond realised this finally hovering over you to give you space. From his position he was able to carefully watch as the quiet moans and whines fell from your mouth. Your face contoured in pleasure at how full you felt from the size of him, enjoying the pleasure of the pace he had set.
You felt it washing over you suddenly as your pussy clenched around him, your thighs even squeezing around his hips to keep him close. His mouth covered yours once again smothering the loud cry that wrecked your body as you came undone underneath him.
You stared up at him as you came back up from your orgasm, realisation hitting you once again. His pace became sloppy and his tempo changed as he nestled his face into your neck. You panicked trying to push him off of you and Aemond grabbed your wrists to pin you down once again.
“I’m not on any birth control,” You squealed, using your hands to pull yourself away. It really was no problem use as Aemond kept you securely pinned down. “Aemond, you can’t don’t do this.”
Aemond didn’t listen as he coated your walls, masking his own moans into the skin of your neck. He made sure to pump every single bit into you until he knew he was done, holding himself there for a moment. When he pulled out, he watched completely entranced with the cum leaking out of your hole.
Softly he kissed all over your face trying to calm you as he held your trembling body. He fixed your skirt pulling it down, helping you get up from your position.
“I think I should help you get home,” Aemond told you, grabbing all of your stuff together. He held onto it not allowing you to escape. “It would be for the best.”
You nodded obediently, following him out of the library with shaky legs. When you finally looked up from the floor, you noticed Aemond with a proud grin on his face clear as day. The man that had just violated your very being but had made you cum harder than any man had ever before.
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Asexual Awareness Week and BG3
Below the cut is 1,100+ words of interpreting Wyll Ravengard as demisexual. As an asexual person, I relate to many of Wyll's desires and experiences. That relation has lead me to this interpretation of him as a character. Interpretation is the key word here. This is simply another way view this character and gain insight. It's obviously extremely biased, which is why I put the word count first. So if your interested in analysis that is probably more projection than interpretation, I bring you this.
Wyll is portrayed as an almost incurable romantic. He constantly references stories, tales, fables, and myths when discussing his romantic desires. Romance heavily influences his sexual desires as well. It is practically inherent to his sexual attraction. While this can be viewed as idealism, I want to propose an alternative outlook. One where he hasn’t conflated romance and sexuality, but rather one where romance is vital to his sexuality.
Wyll talks little of his sexual habits outside of when romance is being discussed. These quotes are about dancing, but they happen while you’re romancing him.
“Don't worry! It's not really about the dance, it's about who's we're dancing with.”
“I had years of lessons but in truth it's all about your partner.”
Like when you’re romancing most companions, many things said have multiple meanings or implications. He’s telling you that while he does enjoy sex, it’s who you’re doing it with that makes it truly pleasurable. I think Wyll desires the intimacy that comes from sex more than the act itself. He’s drawn to the connection it brings rather than the pleasure.
At one point he describes his sexual history as “tight-laced” when he’s talking with Shadowheart. He says, “I was never one to sew my wild oats.” Apparently Wyll hasn’t had to practice and exercise much sexual restraint in his life. It’s easy to control one’s sexual desires when you don’t really feel them to begin with.
While he can understand people’s various sexual habits, I don’t think he can relate. He doesn’t see the appeal to casual sex. Sex doesn’t feel satisfying to him without connection. He has impulses, and sometimes he wants to act on them, but they don’t seem worth it. He doesn’t derive enough pleasure from the act alone to pursue it. Romantic relationships already provide sex, and he values love above all else. Why would he want anything else?
“Eh-heh, well, give it some time! Develop a bond, and…maybe I'll show you a move or two.”
“Hm, think of love as a strong ale, or a warm fire. Is the clang of steel on steel not made more satisfying by the pleasures that come after?”
Doesn’t sex feel decidedly better when you’re having it with someone you care for? How satisfactory can it be without attachment? How truly enjoyable is it without a bond?
“I value affection, over fun. A lasting memory over a passing fancy.”
“But I’ve always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters. I find more pleasure in a courtly dance, than a loveless fling.”
Isn’t it more fulfilling to love someone than lust for them? Do you not feel more fulfilled from loving someone than sleeping with them? Is sex even worth having without love?
“Gods I want you, but I can't take your body without taking your heart.”
Can Wyll even give you his body without giving you his heart? They seem to go hand in hand for him. Love is essential to his sexual enjoyment, he doesn’t seem to experience sexual desire without it. Love might be the only way he can desire it. Here is an interaction between him and Astarion.
Astarion: "You didn’t kiss anyone until you were fifteen?! Gods. What a tragic, sheltered life."
Wyll: "Sheltered? Not at all! I was exposed to all manner of riot and revelry. Hells, my father even urged me on once or twice."
His romantic tendencies don’t come from inexperience or prudishness. Wyll isn’t oblivious or naive when it comes to sex. He’s been exposed and even encouraged to have it. While he might call it “proper”, Wyll is aware his way of courting isn’t for everyone. Your sexual habits might not align with his personal wants, but he won’t respect you any less for yours. Wyll does not believe your sex life effects your worth. If anything, he feels his wants are regressive.
“But I still keep faith in the old tales of love. The ‘once upon a times’ and the ‘happily ever-afters’.”
“I'd, like to do this the proper way. The way of the old romances sung by the bards.”
“But I’ve always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters.”
He constantly uses the word “old” to describe his courting methods. He’s acknowledges these desires aren’t modern, and by referencing fairytales he’s aware they might even be fictious. He calls his sexual habits “tight-laced”, his romantic intentions as “old-fashioned”. They’re not exactly said negatively, but more with the acknowledgment that his wants come across as restrictive. When the habits of today hold no appeal to you, you feel stuck in the past. What are you supposed to do when fiction seems to be the only place where romance is done how you’d like?
If you have sex with Mizora, these are some of his responses.
“You shared your body with the fiend who holds my soul.”
“We danced! We made a connection…and you severed it for a single bite of the Hells?”
This next quote is how he responds if you say, ‘Can you blame me? It’s not like you’ve been putting out.’
“Is that what matters to you? Sex without union? Heat without heart? Did you not take joy in the dance?”
Now obviously the biggest issue is you slept with the being that holds his soul. However, he says these things because he thought you felt the same way about sex as he does. He thought sex was an act as precious to you as it was to him. He thought you also prioritized love over physicality. He thought you enjoyed the way things were going, clearly he was. Had he known you didn’t feel the same, he probably never would’ve pursued you.
Wyll doesn’t do casual, he doesn’t do “let’s see where this goes”. He seems like the type to pursue every romance with the intention of marriage. No, he won’t propose on the first date. He won’t even necessarily think either of you are compatible. However, that’s the whole point of courting! It’s to test the potential of forever. He likes agreements, he likes pacts. He wants certainty, reliability.
Yes, he probably hasn't had much firsthand experience with relationships. Yes, all these things can be seen as restraint. Yes, they can be seen as repression. They can also be seen as someone who knows himself and genuinely wants “happily ever after”. Someone who’s aware of what he’s asking and wants you to desire it as well. Maybe love is the only way he can connect to his sexual desires. Maybe love is important to him because it’s the only way he can truly enjoy sex. Love might be the only thing that lets him experience sex like everyone else. Maybe love is the only thing that let's him feel sex like it’s described in fantasy. Maybe he’s lost in that fantasy, or maybe he’s just demisexual.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#asexual awareness week#asexual#demisexual#astarion#I have another one I'm working on for Astarion#It's about sex repulsion and amanormativity#mine#🎮 bg3
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Delving into the Mind - Ominis x FemReader
Choo Choo! All Aboard the Emotional Damage Train! Destination? Unresolved Childhood Trauma :) (low key tho, i've been going back and forth on posting this sooooo hopefully y'all like it)
Read this first -> Lessons into the Mind (i mean you don't gotta but im building off of that chapter)
Summary: In an attempt to strengthen his Legilimency, things take a turn for the worst and she's left wondering if it was worth it at all.
Word Count: ~2,400 words
Read my other Ominis Fics Here
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She’s chewing on her bottom lip as she reads over her History of Magic essay when she feels it - a riling intrusion gliding across her mind. This isn’t her first time feeling it. At times, the sensation is so faint and gentle she doesn’t notice it at first. But right now, it’s glaring and she has to shut her eyes to not succumb fully to the sensation. It’s jarring, but she slowly eases into it.
The Undercroft is silent; save for the occasional turning of pages. She drifts from her papers over to Ominis - the source of the sensation.
His wand skims over the pages of his Herbology book while he murmurs some of the words to himself. He has a loving smile playing on his lips and she wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it - similar to how his hand searches for hers when they’re walking. She’s noticed he does it frequently during times of stress. She’ll see the furrowing of his brow and the thinning of lip, followed by a soft smile as soon as his mind connects with hers. She’s grown to enjoy the odd feeling, as it lets her know he’s thinking about her.
She believes he’s only reading her emotions and not her thoughts. Otherwise, she’s positive he would’ve said something by now. Although, she hasn’t been able to fully validate - as asking him directly would make him stop all together and she’s grown fond of all forms of his touches. A devious idea strikes her. There may be a way to further test her theory. She smirks as she focuses on one particular emotion. A strong one. She watches him carefully for his reaction.
In an instant, his brows raise and his hand seeks her out until he’s able to grasp her arm.
“Is everything okay?” His distress brings about guilt for making him so concerned.
She pats his hand with a strained smile, “I’m sorry. I was just testing something.”
“Oh.” His head turns away from her, but she can still see the red tinting his ears. The sensation vacates her mind abruptly. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Ominis.” She quickly says. “I know you don’t mean to.” She brushes his cheek - running her fingers over the dark dots on his handsome, heated face.
He slowly turns back to her with a frown, “I shouldn’t be doing it at all. It’s not fair to you that I can dig into your mind whenever I please. Intentional or not.”
“But, I find it so endearing. Especially when we’re apart. It’s nice to know you’re thinking of me.” She smiles.
He blushes with a scowl, “I’m glad you find my prying ‘endearing’, instead of rightly concerning.” He lets out a heavy exhale and he shuts his eyes, “We shouldn’t have entertained this. I don’t have control over it. And I don’t know why I keep gravitating to you.”
She grabs his other hand, “How can you begin to control it, when you don’t know what it is you’re doing?”
She squeezes his hands, “I believe you’re so hesitant of this because you don’t fully understand what you’re capable of. And there’s no better way to figure that out than by practicing. We can find your limits. Build your restraint.”
“I would rather not practice such an intrusive ability on someone I care deeply about.” He snaps, his eyes narrowing.
She strokes the top of his hands with her thumbs and he eases from his bristled state, “You were so close to viewing an actual memory last time. Doesn’t that somewhat entice you?”
He grimaces, “Of course it does. Doesn’t mean I should partake in such notions. I don’t possess enough restraint as is. Encouraging this any more - is reckless. You may find it ‘endearing’ now, but all it takes is one time for me to go too far.”
He squeezes her hands, “And I’d rather not lose you.”
She bites her lip as she takes in the concern written on his face. She cups his cheek and he practically melts into her touch - his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a quiet sigh.
“I hear you. And I understand. We don’t have to keep practicing your Legilimency. I would never want you to do something you don’t want to. And I most certainly don’t want you to feel guilty about any of this.”
She strokes his cheek with a soft smile, “I also think you’re far more capable than you realize. And you have enough self control to not do anything rash. More than you give yourself credit for. Which is why I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else, but you, Ominis. I trust you.”
He closes his eyes, pressing her hand more into his cheek. His head rests against hers with a sigh. He wishes she wasn’t so reasonable all the time.
“You are such a stubborn witch.” He pulls away with a sure nod. “Fine. But, you must keep your promise from last time. As soon as you feel even a slight bit of discomfort-,”
“I will let you know as soon as it happens. I promise.” She reassures him with a squeeze of his hand.
They shift to sit across from each other with their hands clasped together. He has his eyes closed, taking in deep breaths, before he slowly opens them. She meets his eyes and she’s immediately drawn in. He gasps.
“It’s even easier than last time.” He murmurs.
The pool of her current emotions is a familiar place to him. He uses this to ease him into the far more chaotic part of her mind. He braces himself as he’s assaulted by all of his senses. It’s like he’s touching a hundred different things all at once - coarse wood, silky fabrics, warm skin. He smells everything ranging from pleasant flowers, hearty foods, earthy mud, and disgusting rubbish. It’s the sounds which disorients him. A hundred upon a hundred conversations all happening at once - all talking over each other and he has to shut away the strong emotions tied to them.
He’s beginning to be dragged down by the deluge and he can’t take much more. He wants it to stop. He wants it all to stop.
With a sudden surge, he demands everything to cease. To his surprise, the whirlwind he’s in dissipates. He lets out a relieved sigh. With his new found control, he begins to search for something in particular. Something familiar - something which resonates within her the most. Damp grass and rocks crushing underfoot, followed by the rich noises of the forest let him know he’s close to something.
There.
He senses the same thing from last time. He’s quick to snatch it before the strand can escape. He forgets how to breathe as an image manifests before him.
It’s the sky.
He knows this is the sky even though he’s not sure how. It’s like he’s gazed up at this a hundred times before - and he almost feels unimpressed. He laughs to himself at how amazing it must be to find this to be an uninteresting sight. He wonders what sights do capture her intrigue - what she deems truly breathtaking, instead of mundane. They must be undeniably spectacular. But, he’s content with staring at the sky in total awe. Picking it apart piece by piece.
The first thing he admires is the blue - it evokes him the most. He knew colors could be rich and provoking, as described by numerous tomes and poems he’s read, and he’s shocked to see how true it all is. He finds blue to be a calm, pleasing color - one he could spend hours gazing at. Next, he takes in the gentle, white clouds rolling by. They’re impossibly fluffy with deep pockets of gray at their hearts. A tear rolls down his cheek at the memory frozen in his mind.
More.
He wants to see more.
He indulges, but instead of seeing more of the memory, he’s met with several. There’s so much flooding into him - too much. Images flash past until they all blur together. Smells and sounds take the rest of his senses and he’s left paralyzed. It’s like a searing knife is cutting right into his skull. He’s being tossed around in a whirlwind and he can’t stop it.
He doesn’t realize he’s fallen over and is laying on the ground until he hears her calling his name.
“Ominis?” He hears her whimper.
He forces his hand to find hers and he grasps onto her. He hears her sigh of relief in return. She shifts closer to him and he does the same until she’s able to press herself against his side. He drags her onto his chest and she buries herself into him - calming herself with his scent.
“That was… Merlin…,” She gasps - her head pounds against her skull. She wonders if she’s going to be sick with the way the sweat clings to her brow and her stomach flops.
“Do you see the dangers of this now?” He hisses and shakes at how her voice whimpered out his name. Even now, the remnants of her fear and hurt lingers and twists at his heart - making his disgust with himself worsen. “I knew this was a mistake.”
She closes her eyes to keep her tears at bay. Everything is too much yet not nearly enough. The lingering moment she experienced surfaces through her muddled thoughts.
“I-I saw one of your memories.” She whispers.
He says nothing, so she looks over to him. He’s turned slightly towards her, awaiting for her to speak, but otherwise he’s motionless. His memory begins to form more clearly, so she continues,
“You’re playing with a toy. A wizard. It’s your favorite.”
She stares at her palm with a slight smile, “You can feel the wood grain under the chipped paint and you know every nick and mark on it. The sun warms your face and you’re so happy.” She pauses with a frown, “Then you hear something. It’s your brother, Marvolo. You recognize his footsteps as they come towards you. You’re scared. And he… he teases you.” She shudders as Marvolo’s words repeat in her mind.
“Then he rips the toy from your hand. He laughs so cruelly as he burns it. The smoke stings your nose. But, you refuse to cry. You know you can’t cry in front of him. It’ll only make it worse.” She gasps at the ferocity of which these emotions emanate within her. His emotions - from a past he tries so hard to keep buried.
“It feels like this memory is my own. Like I lived through it.” She notices the pensive expression upon his face and she strokes his cheek to ease his frown.
“I’m so sorry, Ominis. I know you said they were horrible, but I never realized…,” She pauses as she recounts what he told her.
“How dare your father say-,” her voice cracks and she has to regain herself. “You experience the world in such a beautiful way. How you smell and hear,” she brings his hand up to her face and his eyes soften, “The way you touch, it’s all so heightened. You notice the tiniest of details - details that I’ve never observed before. And I’m thankful I got to experience it as well. Even if it was an unpleasant memory.”
He shudders - closing his eyes as he does - and he presses his forehead to hers. She’s so very warm, he thinks to himself.
“I saw the sky.” He whispers. “It was beautiful.”
He laughs with a slight smile. “I never thought I’d ever see such a thing. And now I have. And it was beautiful.”
She beams, “I want to show you so much more, Ominis.”
His smile fades as he recalls the terror he put them through - at the greed he felt and didn’t control.
He shakes his head, “No. It’s not worth it.”
“It is. I want to give this to you.”
“It’s not to me.” He whispers.
“But, we’re so close, Ominis. I can feel it.” She sits up. “One more time. I think I know what might help.” Her voice is full of excitement and it makes him want to be sick.
‘Let me help you, my sweet, darling.’
His mother’s sickly, sweet voice whispers in his ear and the ghost of her long fingers card through his hair. He shakes his head at the recollection.
He closes his eyes while his face scrunches from his head pounding. He sits up and he clutches her hand.
“Why? Why do you insist we keep trying?” He murmurs. “I thought you only wanted me able to feel you when you’re away - gallivanting the countryside and risking your life. Why are you insisting we delve into your memories?”
“Of course I want you to be able to sense me when I’m away. But, you’re also so close to being able to-,”
“To what? See?” He snaps his head over to her with a sneer. “Was this your true reason all along? Is this your attempt to ‘fix’ me as well?”
The way he says ‘fix’ makes her flinch and a bitter coldness floods her entire being.
“What?!” She exclaims, her eyes wide and her mouth parted. “N-no! That’s not at all-,”
“I am not some broken thing that needs mending!” He hisses. “You, and everyone else, seem to think that I must see, when no one has bothered to ask if that’s even remotely what I wanted.” His face contorts into a cold, harsh expression.
She shakes her head, “No, that’s not at all why. I-I just thought-,”
“I never asked for this! For any of this!” His hand practically throws hers away, “You’re just as irresponsible and selfish as Sebastian. You both don’t know when to stop.”
He turns his head away from her, “Leave me.”
The command takes the air from her chest and freezes the blood in her veins.
“Ominis.” She reaches for him and he backs away with a scowl.
“I said, leave me alone!” He snarls.
She gasps, flinching away from him. Her lip trembles and she hurries to her feet. She feels his mind leave hers like a cold gale - shutting her out with a finality which twists her stomach and rips her heart a part.
“I-I’m sorry.” She whispers, her voice breaking and her eyes blur. She runs out of the Undercroft with his cold gaze haunting her long after she’s gone.
------------------------------------
Read Next Part Here
AN: ...yeah... hopefully this wasn't too much cause im pretty excited about this next part. like dudes, i need to do all my angst writing during my period cause i was popping off. and funny enough, this was actually gonna be one chapter with a happy ending. but it felt... idk alright. so anyways, here we are.
also... I really, really, really like bonds. I'm sorry, im a whore for them and i am currently building up for them to be bonded together. why you may ask?? idk cause im insane and i do what i want. im ungovernable. and i may or may not fully understand what the heck Legilimency is. and if i'm totally wrong about it all -> AnCiEnT mAGiC™
Thanks again for reading and feedback is always appreciated <3
#ominis gaunt#ominis x reader#hogwarts legacy#fanfic#fanfiction#hogwarts legacy fanfic#fluff#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis gaunt x reader#creative writing#ominis x mc#ominis x you#legilimency#ominis x oc#comfort#ominis gaunt x you#drama#slight angst#okay major angst but who's to say#i guess me#more pain to come#like wow the next part to this is just meant to hurt you#but then it'll all be better...#sorry i like doing magic bonds and im building my magic bond house rn
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The absolute worst thing about Batman comics is that trying to just lay the groundwork instead of having a single good starting point, is kind of a nightmare. Like, I have to explain the mindset going into them! I have to explain that stuff doesn't always "count" as a canon! I have to explain the different continuities and constant retcons!
The thing about DC comics is that you can't approach it the way you would another source material, there is no one "true" source, there is no one "true" author of the characters, there is no one "true" canon. There is a central timeline, but it's constantly being rewritten both in-universe and out-of-universe. You have to jump into it accepting that there's no good starting point in terms of reading the story unfolding in sequence.
And you have to accept that, even googling "best Batman comics to start with" has a list of comics that kind of made me moan in horror, like noooooooo those comics will not hook you and so many of them are comics that are stand-alones because they're plays on the tropes and established status quo, like The Dark Knight Returns or A Serious House on Serious Earth won't really work unless you're already familiar with Batman stories and also they're absolutely not what fandom will be posting about. I mean, I'm not your mom, you can start there if you want, but I personally think they're pretty difficult places to start.
Instead, if you want to get into what the fandom is into (which may be very different than what think pieces write about), instead I think it helps to find someone who knows comics reasonably well, ask them some questions you have about the lay of the land (ie, "So how do these Robins all work? Why are there so many of them?" is a question I answered for a friend recently because I love to talk about this stuff, most comic fans do!) and then get yourself some recs once you have a general idea of who's who and why they're going around as the costume they're in.
(You can always ask me, too! I'm happy to nerd out about helping gain traction with a lot of these things! I may not be able to answer finely detailed questions yet, but I can give you a bird's eye view that'll get you on your feet, too.)
You'll also want to get an idea of what era you want to read in, because there's this thing called the "New 52" (or Nu52) and it's kind of a line in the sand, a "before" and "after" that's helpful to keep in mind whether or not something "happened" to the character. So, in 2011, after many many decades of convoluted comics history, DC decided that they wanted to completely reboot their entire universe so that new readers could jump on and not have to read a thousand backissues from the 70s and 80s or earlier. All existing books were cancelled and an all new lineup of 52 different comic series were announced--hence, Nu52. In theory, an idea with potential! The problem was that they gave too much free reign to the creators and not nearly enough collaboration, so nobody knew what was still part of a character’s backstory and nobody knew what anyone else was writing. And it cut out a lot of elements of the stories that people were really invested in, so despite the initial splash it made, sales slowly dropped and dropped because people just didn’t care.
So, what does DC do? Basically, since then they’ve had company-wide events that have been slowly chipping away at the divide between the “before” the Nu52 and the current storyline, that they’ve had multiverse-level events that have absorbed some of people’s favorite stuff back into the storyline, so some stuff now has happened again.
And that makes it extremely confusing to just pick up an issue of a comic and know whether something “counts” or not, so you kind of just have to roll with things and understand that there is no one “true” canon set of events, it’s constantly shifting, and you just gotta read for the things you enjoyed reading.
That’s kind of a high bar for entry and I hope this isn’t scaring you off, it’s genuinely an attempt to explain the lay of the land so you know what to expect when you pick something up and can enjoy it for what it is! Once you get a feel for the set-up, I think it’s really easy to just pick up any comic at any time and start reading!
I’m assuming there’s a fair amount of basic cultural osmosis for Batman, but if anyone needs a 101 course, let me know! In the meantime, this list of recommendations will assume that you’re familiar with things like, “Dick Grayson is the first Robin after his parents are murdered, but eventually Bruce fires him because Dick got shot by the Joker, then eventually he became Nightwing and now he and Bruce have a complicated but generally good relationship, nobody holds the family together like Dick Grayson does.” or “Jason Todd was the second Robin and he died, but then Superboy Prime punched reality so hard that Jason was jolted back to life (or at least that’s the version I go with, I don’t care for the one where Talia dug up his lifeless body) and he was real mad about it for awhile but he’s getting better” or “Tim Drake was the cutest super genius stalker who ever was and he’s got his issues but also I love him DC LET HIM KISS CONNER YOU COWARDS” or “Damian was raised by his mother in the League of Assassins and that fucked baby bird up pretty good until Dick took Damian under his wing to be the Robin to his Batman for awhile and showed him that Damian didn’t have to prove himself to be worthy of being loved, he was loved just because he was Damian, not because he was a Wayne or an al Ghul, and the others are coming around, but those two will always be the most special to each other”.
Some good places to start imo:
(Note: Pay attention to year numbers and authors, because many of these titles have earlier runs that are not the ones I’m recommending as good starting points!)
- Robin & Batman (2021) by Jeff Lemire, a three-issue mini series set during the early days of Dick’s training, when he and Bruce are still getting the hang of understanding each other, featuring some truly gut-wrenching emotional moments and absolutely stunning art.
- World’s Finest 2022-current by Mark Waid, an on-going series of Batman and Superman working together and being friends, the current volume is set during the young-ish days of Dick being Robin and it’s utter joy so far, so many good moments of Dick and Clark bonding by being the most annoying people Bruce has ever had to work with.
- Robins: Being Robin by Tim Seeley, a mini-series where the various Robins (Dick, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, and Damian) are all working together on a case that’s tied up in the story of the role of Robin, featuring some top-tier sibling dynamics that had me howling with how much I love these idiots and a story I genuinely liked.
- Nightwing vol 4 2016-current, started by Tim Seely, currently by Tom Taylor, which skips over a lot of the timeline, but I think it’s a better starting place. Dick’s solo title is usually pretty entertaining for me (and I do like the previous volume, from 2011-2014, but I think the 2016 one is a better starting place) and is has some absolutely gorgeous art and a good amount of Dick working with other superheroes that are friends and/or family. The writing is fun, charismatic, and just a good ride. (The wiki has a list of trade paperback collections with their titles to read them in story chunks instead of flinging yourself at individual issues.) You can also start with “Leaping into the Light” if you want to read something more current and skip over some of the middle issues that are a bit of a slog. (The 50s to the 70s are not the greatest time on this run.)
- “Court of Owls” and “City of Owls” by Scott Snyder are from across various Bat-related titles (like Batman and Nightwing and Batgirl and such) and you can find the two collections/tpbs under the quoted titles. I’m currently reading this one so I can’t comment on the whole thing, but I’m enjoying the interaction between all the various Bat-family members immensely and it has a really strong story at the center of it, and it’s just a solid place to start for stories in this universe, rather than just characters.
- “Batman and the Night of the Monster Men” by various authors is another tpb with a self-contained story that’s kind of wild (comic book logic is basically “Wheeeeee!”) but had some excellent Batfamily interactions and some fun fights against giant monsters, and was an all-around self-contained good time.
- “Batman: Cold Days” by Tom King (from the Batman series) is probably a bit of a controversial rec, I know so many people who dislike King’s writing, but I had an amazing time with this book, because it’s the lead-up to Dick getting shot in the head, so there’s extra emphasis on his interactions with Bruce, to really rub salt in the wound of how necessary this kid is to Bruce’s life. Only background context you really need is: Bruce and his long-time love interest Selina were about to finally get married, but she stood him up at the altar for various reasons, and he’s in a dark place because of this. Dick comes along to annoy Bruce into a better mood, but one of Batman’s villains is trying to destabilize him so that he can take over Gotham and Nightwing is fucking up his plans by making Batman too stable, so he has KGBeast shoot Nightwing in the head (which will lead to Dick’s amnesia arc, which is not the greatest time for us readers), and the emotional stuff of it was great. Includes flashbacks to Dick’s early days in Wayne Manor that were really good for me. (I also enjoyed “Batman: The Rules of Engagement” by the same author, set just before Bruce and Selina’s marriage, it’s the run up to it, and it had a lot of great family interaction stuff, including Selina’s take on how she loves Bruce in a way that really sold it for me.)
And a final semi-rec: While the characterizations might differ a little and the dynamics aren’t a 1:1 match for the comics, the Young Justice animated series from 2010 was a lot of fun, included some great characters, had some genuinely good stories, and you can actually watch it in order!
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Multiple Choice - a Callum and Aaravos theory
Not to be all Han Solo or anything, but when it comes to Aaravos and magic in Xadia, I Have A Bad Feeling About This.
If there's one thing I love more than corrupt systems, it's breaking them, so let's get to it: please enjoy yet another way that Callum's pursuit of magic could potentially go very wrong for him - and how he can still fix it.
The system, in this case, isn't a monarchy (on either side of the border), wartime tensions reaching forward from the cycle, or a Xadia-wide racial hierarchy.
It's magic itself.
We don't know where it came from, magic. Was deep magic always here? Did one of the Star Touch elves create it, or perhaps choose to make it his bailiwick while others chose things like Justice and Mercy?
Aaravos, I mean Aaravos. If he's basically the god of magic (feel free to view him through a Loki-esque lens here, I am), then of course he's an archmage, and of course he's the only one among the Star Touch elves. Magic is His Thing.
And according to Zubeia, the Dragon Queen, its mages are his prey. We don't know yet what his full intent has been. We only have her millennia-long view from the surface of the planet. There's definitely more to the story, but which direction that story takes us is anyone's guess at this point. However, it seems clear that Aaravos's history during his time in Xadia does show a pattern of him targeting and influencing mages. He certainly has been during the years the show has covered.
What all he did with these mages, besides the manipulation, is also still unknown. But even if all he ever did was pull their strings, he's still choosing magic-imbued beings as his favorite puppets. The most likely explanation for this is that mages and Aaravos have something in common, making them easier for him to work with. Is it just magic? Does their ambition count too? Is there more to it?
I think there's more. I feel there is some deep dangerous secret Aaravos has managed to hide from everyone so far - including us. But just because it's dangerous doesn't mean it's evil, or even ill-intentioned. Do we consider the threat to anthills when we begin construction on a new apartment complex? Usually no. We're busy doing human-level tasks. The ants' welfare is truly not our concern. And most of them will probably be fine... right?
So. What's Aaravos really up to, and what does it have to do with Callum?
Something Rayla believes about Callum made me wonder: in the short story Chasing Shadows, she believes that he, and all humans, can change their destiny (and it's super annoying!). Why is that a human thing only, though?
Arcanums, perhaps. We've all seen the elven peoples get uptight about their own rules and the options they can choose for themselves. It's not just the Moonshadows. Sunfire elves can absolutely be sticklers for tradition - look at my disaster boy Karim over here, willing to go to war against his own people because his sister wants to marry a human.
Bruh.
So here's part one of the theory:
Having an arcanum in you forces your destiny into a certain path.
If you're born with it, you know the path of your whole life - and I don't just mean "serve your people" or "be a warrior" or "be one with nature." There is a very dark side to being locked into your destiny. It means you cannot escape it even if you desperately want to.
*wordlessly points to Runaan and his overly honorbound decisions*
*wordlessly points to Rayla and her overly sacrificial decisions*
*wordlessly points to Finnegrin and his overly fear-driven decisions*
*wordlessly points to Janai and her overly dutybound decisions*
*wordlessly points to Karim and his overly traditional decisions*
I don't need to say anything here, do I? Thought not.
But it's one thing to be born with an arcanum - maybe they know and accept this part of their destiny already. Maybe it's just a subconscious thing they... know.
It's another thing entirely to opt into an arcanum as a free choice. And here's where we get to part two:
Callum thinks he chose his destiny. He doesn't know he just gave it away.
If he just handed his fate to Aaravos by embracing an arcanum (and then one more), his destiny isn't currently in his hands at all. It's in Aaravos's. And the archmage has proven that he, at least, knows that, since he's been pulling at Callum's strings and toying with him for a while now. He wouldn't flex like that unless he was supremely confident - which he is, he always is - he wouldn't show that hand early on like this unless he knew Callum didn't understand what he'd done or how to reverse it.
This theory is about more than dark magic. It's about all magic. Even if Callum could cleanse himself from dark magic and never let Aaravos puppet him again, is he really free? He still has an arcanum. Where did that come from? He's walking around with a couple of magical bona fides stamped on his brain, and I just want to know...
Who crafted the stamps?
If all Xadian magic is some kind of... creation, or spill, or experiment... and Aaravos needs that power back for himself in order to be who he used to be and/or re-ascend to the stars, he's got more than one way to harness it again:
dark magic consumes primal magic - but matter and energy are never destroyed, so... where does that power go? Aaravos has a very convenient black hole symbol right on his chest. Maybe every spell dark mages have ever cast sends him some of his precious primal magic again. It would be a very convenient way of getting desperate humans to do his cleanup for him. And he has all the time in the world.
primal magic won't save anyone from his will - it just harnesses the elves to Aaravos's magic rules and binds their destiny to a predetermined outcome. They've become, in a word... predictable.
There's no way to beat a Star Touch Archmage at his own game. He literally wrote its rules. So what's a bright young kid like Callum to do?
To quote War Games, "the only way to win is not to play."
Callum's in a unique position, in that he knows who he was before he had an arcanum. Back when he could choose his destiny every day, without binding him to some powerful force he doesn't fully understand yet. This might lead him to a very difficult and dangerous choice, and it could break the game, and the world, wide open.
If Callum can choose to learn an arcanum, maybe he can choose to forget one.
If he can un-know the things that bound him to that magic destiny, he'd be free again, of Aaravos's reach and of his influence.
And that's just for him, but if everyone else is trapped too, how can he help them and hurt Aaravos's power grab at the same time? No idea, beyond "someone hand him a powerful magical artifact and wait," at this point, but I'm sure he'll find a way to break something important eventually! Something vital to the structure and distribution of magic itself, preferably.
If he manages to find a way to destroy magic itself, then everyone would be free. There would be no rules binding anyone to Aaravos. There would be no dark magic feeding off its fumes, either. It's theoretically possible that destroying primal magic would undo the taint of dark magic, all in one go.
And we all know how Callum loves to go around ruining ancient and powerful magical objects. Kid's got quite a track record by now!
Maybe he's not done yet. Maybe Callum's true destiny will be both Savior and Destroyer. But he'll have to play his own game to do it - he can't play Aaravos's game and win. He'll have to fight outside of magic itself. And if he's going to put down his most powerful weapon, forged by someone else - by the mastermind himself - and try without it, then he'll need help, just like always.
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Hi... I'm like really evil so... I apologize in advance
orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?
cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?
bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?
abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?
daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?
mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?
chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?
sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?
edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?
camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?
jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?
ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?
chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?
aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?
palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?
nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?
papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?
taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?
LMAO love that you decided to ask me this as soon as I reblogged it. so very kind of you lol
orchid ⇢ Hozier's Unknown/Nth. He had no right writing the most soul-crushing lyrics to ever exist in this life and then just SHALALA his way into my heart. like.. "DO YOU KNOW I COULD BREAK BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF THE GOODNESS, LOVE, I STILL CARRY FOR YOU???" WHAT WAS THAT?? how do you even begin to EXIST after hearing that??
cactus ⇢ the way that feminist theory has impacted other realms of life--and also the way literature has tied into different cultural movements. I've also been researching the various circles of Dante's Inferno (just for the giggles, ya know :P)
bamboo ⇢ sometimes. it depends. sometimes i get home and all i want to do is just collapse on my bed and not have to deal with anything else, but others I want to feel like a pretentious character from some novel so I'll keep my "fancy" clothes on lol
abelia ⇢ i have this one ring that I wear a lot--my grandma gave it to me. I also have a few pairs of earrings that I treasure a lot.
daffodil ⇢nope :) only child over here
mahonia ⇢ I love the mountains and the ocean--I think they both inspire me to be more than my usual self in various ways: to be kinder, to be more poetic, to see beauty in a wider variety of things and people.
chia ⇢ oh gosh, so many. does challenging my friends to duels count?? lol
sage ⇢ I really cannot decide on this one. I think the beauty of enjoying and being inspired by a variety of artistic mediums is that they each bring something unique into your world view: poetry can bring a sense of rhythm and orderliness or, in other cases, chaos. Music I see as another way of enjoying poetry--what else are lyrics, after all? Fiction is somewhere I can get lost and experience things I've never gotten the chance to see or meet people I'll never meet. Paintings, like photographs, capture a singular moment, but also infuse their meaning with a more personal flavor from the artist's own life. Statues are this concrete, physical expression of being that capture movement and emotion and strength and weakness and just the general essence of existence in a very solid, real way. plzzzz don't make me choose :)
edelweiss ⇢ the secret history. idk what else to add lol
camellia ⇢ I think i conformed a lot more to other's expectations (I know...such a cliche thing to say.. :(( lol). In other respects, I don't think i've changed all that much. I still love art and reading and running through fields and dancing in the rain and curling up with a story next to my dog just as much as I used to :)
jasmine ⇢ This is really tough. I definitely feel that way about some books that just destroyed me emotionally--same goes for films--but I also feel like, given enough time, I'd want to return to them to get a fresh perspective. Idk, I've definitely thought about this a lot, but a lot of types of media store cherished memories for me, so in returning to the media, I'm also reopening that treasure trove of my own life.
ivy ⇢ I smile a lot for no reason when I'm happy. I'm much more sarcastic when I'm down. I also tend to hold my hand up to my face when I'm anxious or annoyed. I feel like this is so much easier to determine about someone else, not yourself :)
chamomile ⇢ BOOKS. chocolate. hugs. cozy sweaters. tea. handmade gifts that are more a demonstration of love that anything else.
aloe vera ⇢ (i am aware this makes me sound a lot more lonely than i actually am lol) I would love to experience the feeling of sitting next to someone I love--platonic or romantic--and just sensing this absolute tranquility. I am always so happy every time I experience that and I'd love to have that feeling more present in my life.
palm tree ⇢ not really?? idk, i mean does Dorian Gray count??
nutmeg ⇢ the walls of my room are a green color that I chose when i was ten, which kinda sets the automatic aesthetic to cottagecore. Lots of plants, poetry and drawings and paintining and quotes pinned on the walls, books everywhere, a quilt i made as my bedcover, my dog (sometimes lol)
papyrus ⇢ just went and did this for the sake of experimentation. the song that came up was "king" by florence and the machine. I love all of florence's songs, but i love "king" for so many reasons. The guttural vocals really bring something out in the lyrics (which are incredible on their own). Also the production of the music video (directed by one of my favorite people of all time, Autumn de Wilde--same person who directed Emma 2020) just makes the aesthetic of the music so much more....GRAND
taro ⇢ I'd tell them about all the beautiful things I saw today, about all the interactions I had. about how much i love being alive, and how much I am looking forward to spending more time getting to know people and reading new books and falling in love with the way the world continues despite it all.
thank you for sending this ask, @kaleb-is-definitely-sane
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a man after midnight | p. gasly
pairing: pierre gasly x reader
word count: 2.7k words
request: nope.
prompt: ice-cold cocktails + staying up till sunrise from this prompt list.
warnings: not actual smut but like allutions to it, a loooot of abba and mamma mia! references (can you guess what i watched while writing this for inspo?) really really recommend listening to 'voulez-vous' and 'gimme! gimme! gimme!' whilst reading this lolol since this was inspired by the horniest songs in mamma mia (if this does well maybe 'lay all your love on me' could be a part 2
a/n: happy september first! happy return to hogwarts! august really slipped away into a moment in time. we have one summer fic left! (yes, i know summer is almost over buuuuuut, we’re about to enter seasonal depression and i feel like we all (me) need a little more fics about sunny days at the beach. (btw, after i’m done with the summer of love event i will focus all my energy into sorting out my masterlist) also! to all my french readers or ppl whose first language is french, the last sentence won't make much sense for y'all! sorry! (i mean, maybe? kinda? but like not in the way i meant it)
my masterlist / summer of love masterlist
greece had been a dream. you’d been planning for that trip for so long, it had always been a dream of yours to visit a place with such rich history and a lot of views that seemed straight out of a movie.
the first week had been dedicated to tourists attractions, athens, santorini, and finally, mykonos.
you decided to spend the last week of your trip there to wind down from the hectic and tiresome previous days. everything was perfect, the weather, the people, the food. one thing you still had to try out were the nightclubs.
you’d been sitting in your hotel, half past twelve, watching re-runs of a tv show. you had your window opened, the summer breeze was just cold enough to make the heat bearable. you’d been exploring the city early that day, and it had left you quite exhausted. once you got enough from the show you were barely paying attention to, you stood up, walking to the window and seeing the dark of the streets out. as you looked to the side, you saw colored lights, and through the distance, heard music playing. and it was like a lightbult went on over your head, like your prayers had been answered.
why were you all alone in your hotel when you could be enjoying a night out? even if it was past midnight, you were sure that the clubs in mykonos would welcome a tourist in need of fun, and you were sure you wouldn’t be the only one there.
you wore a black dress, one that hugged your body perfectly and made your confidence go sky high. your matching black heels clicked against the cobblestone streets as you made your way to a club, neon lights illuminated the dance floor, and the music playing wasn’t like the obnoxious booming the other clubs played.
you decided to go for it, if this place wasn’t to your liking there were many more options to go instead. after going through the bouncer, you smiled in relief. it was way past 1am, but there were not too many people, most of them were girls in big groups, and the guys there seemed decent at first glance.
you approached the bar and asked for a light, fruity cocktail to get started. you smiled in thanks once the bartender handed it to you, you brought it up to your lips, wincing a little as you swallowed the ice-cold drink. it was good, though, and it brought a smile to your lips as it helped fight the heat. so far, so good.
you walked to the dance floor, keeping to your spot as you swayed to the beat. it felt nice to let loose every once in a while. you drank some more, with less than a half still on your glass. you decided to save the rest for later, wanting to avoid the hassle of returning to the bar. you wanted to focus on enjoying the night, and the people welcoming you to the dance floor.
your eyes met clear blue ones, on the other side of the club. you smiled at him, and kept dancing as you looked somewhere else. a group of girls to your right invited you to join them, you agreed, walking a few steps towards them. after a few minutes of dancing, one of them grabbed your arm and twirled you around. you laughed, feeling eyes on you once she let go of you. you looked back, seeing the same guy still looking over at you. he was talking to, who you assumed, were his friends, but every few seconds his eyes and attention drifted away from the conversation, traveling to you.
you smiled, turning your back to him. in the dark of the club, with colored neon lights, he looked hot.
you downed the rest of your drink, excusing yourself from the group and walking to the bar.
“another one, please. ice-cold, just like the last one,” you asked the bartender, who nodded and started preparing your cocktail. you turned around, leaning your back against the counter, scanning the room for nothing in particular.
“this one’s on me,” you heard, turning your head to the side, you came face to face with the guy you’d spotted minutes earlier.
“oh, it’s okay, thanks,” you said, shaking your hand.
"please, it's just a drink," he insisted, "how about an exchange?" he asked, you raised an eyebrow.
"and what would you like in return?"
"how about your name?" he lifted a corner of his lips, his answer made you chuckle.
*smooth," you nodded your head, thanking the bartender. "(y/n),"
“i’m pierre,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
“nice to meet you,” you said, standing on your tiptoes to reach his ear, so he could hear you over the loud music.
“it’s your first time here?” he asked, moving so he was in front of you, his breath hitting the skin of your ear and neck. you nodded, giving him a small smile. “what do you think?”
“it’s beautiful,” you couldn’t stop the sigh that left your lips as you thought about this place that took your breath away when you thought about it, “do you live here?” you asked.
“no, i’m here on holiday too. i’m from france,” your eyes widened, a hot french guy in greece.
“i’ve been wanting to go there as well! but since i was little it’s been a dream of mine to come here,” you bit your lip as you looked into his clear eyes. “i don’t think i want to leave,” you admitted, laughing. pierre nodded.
“i come back here every chance i get. besides home i’d say this is my favorite place,”
“i haven’t left and i already want to come back,” you sighed, closing your eyes as you took a sip from the cold drink. “it exceeded all of my expectations. the movies don’t compare to the real thing.”
“let me guess,” he started, a smile on his face, “mamma mia?” he raised his eyebrows as his expression turned playful.
“guilty,” you nodded, “it’s one of my favorites.” you bit your lip, shrugging.
“it’s a good movie,” he lifted a shoulder, smiling. “do you want to dance?”
“with you?”
“i’m a pretty good dance partner,” he smiled wide, your eyes instinctively drifting down to his lips.
“maybe some other time,” you declined politely, “i’m quite tired,”
“just one song, please?” pierre placed a hand on your arm, “you won’t regret it,”
“i don’t like this one,” you shook your head, aware that you were playing hard to get.
a lightbulb seemed to go on over his head, his eyes widened a little as a smile settled on his face.
“stay here,” he told you, and walked away, you lost sight of him once he mixed with the crowd of people dancing. you stayed there by the bar, enjoying the last of your drink. you paid for both of them, since it had been a few minutes and pierre still hadn’t returned.
you decided to go back to your hotel, stepping down the few steps leading to the bar. your head perked up once you heard a familiar song begin. the people on the dance floor recognized it as well, since they started cheering and dancing to the beat. you turned to the dj, to the guy next to him, who stared at you with a smirk on his face.
a song from ‘mamma mia!’ playing in greece. how predictable.
you laughed, shaking your head as pierre made his way to you. he offered his hand, a smirk on his face.
“you can’t tell me you don’t like this song,” he had a gorgeous shine in his eyes, that popped up against the white shirt he wore. the first three buttons were undone, letting you see a good portion of his chest, a golden chain reflecting with the lights.
“fine,” you gave in, letting him guide you to the middle of the dance floor, as you walked, grinning, you couldn’t help but think how fitting the words of the song he chose were to your situation.
now is all we get. nothing promised, no regrets.
“voulez-vous?” you heard his voice in your ear as he twirled you around, keeping your back pressed against his chest. you chuckled, feeling a chill running down your back. you decided to play along this game, moving your hips side to side, placing your hands on top of his, drifting them down your body, settling them on your waist. he held on tighter, throwing caution to the wind and placing a kiss to your neck.
you turned around, throwing your hands around his neck, fingers curling on his golden hair.
“i know what you think. ‘that girl means business so i’ll offer her a drink. looking mighty proud, i see you leave your table, pushing through the crowd,” you sang, pushing your body closer to his, as he couldn’t help but smile, aware of the accuracy of the words.
when you first landed in greece, the last thing you expected to do was dance with an attractive frenchman, who held you both delicately and posessively, who asked the dj to play a song from your favorite movie only to dance with you.
maybe it was the lights, the drinks you’d had, the suggestiveness of the song, that gave you the courage to raise to your tiptoes and place a quick kiss to his lips.
it took him by surprise, at first, but amusement filled his face as you moved your hands to grab his face, singing the next verse with your lips touching his.
“ain’t no big decision. you know what to do. la question c’est ‘voulez-vous?’,” you raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to make the next move. it felt like the rest of the club had blurred away, and it was only you and pierre, it didn’t matter that you two only met each other minutes ago.
it’s like the song said. nothing promised. no regrets.
his lips on yours felt like being lit on fire. it was hot and messy, full of need and curiosity.
just one night. one night of being careless, of losing fear and daring to step out of your comfort zone, to experience something new. something without promises, without regrets and what ifs.
“do you want to?” he translated it for you, his breathing was heavy and hard as he leaned back, one of his hands was holding the back of your head, something you missed as he kissed you.
the song encouraged you. take it now or leave it. now is all we get.
when else will you get a chance like this?
you answered by pressing your lips against his, your hand finding his as you walked back, leading him out of the club.
-
throwing your head back in ecstasy, a smile formed on your face as you felt pierre’s lips on your neck, placing quick kisses, combined with soft bites all over your skin. you were both breathing hard, trying to catch your breaths after three intense hours of exploring each other.
everything ached. you dropped down on top of him, your breasts pressed against his chest as exhaustion took over your body. he circled your waist with an arm, turning you over so your back now rested against the mattress and pillows.
“any regrets?” he asked, leaning his weight on his elbow as he stared at you.
“no, nothing.” you shook your head, a blissful look on your face as you bit your lip, thinking about the past few hours.
“good.” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. he moved back, leaving the bed. you took advantage of the view, not believing the amazing times you would’ve missed had you not agreed to go with pierre. “the sun is rising,” he said, bringing you out of your thoughts. you turned to him just in time to see him pulling his boxers up.
“no way,” you made a sound that was a mix of a gasp and a chuckle, “it’s 5:30am,” you looked down at your phone, “no wonder everything hurts,” you dropped your head down on the pillows, feeling the bed dip as pierre sat on it, you felt his face against yours a second later.
“i hurt you? you should’ve told me, i-”
“no, no,” you placed a hand on his chest, “you didn’t hurt me, it’s just… it’s been way too long since i, you know. and for so long, as well,” you reassured him, watching the way his face changed from worry to pride. “stop,” you placed a hand on his face, laughing as he grabbed it and pressed kisses all over it.
“it has been a true pleasure, honestly,” his voice somehow got lower, huskier.
“i can say the same thing,” you laughed as he dipped his head down to kiss your neck, throughout the night you’d noticed that he really liked that spot, and you were sure that the skin there was tender and most likely, red or bruised. not that you minded. the sun sneaked in through the windows of pierre’s hotel room, and you realized that was still something you hadn’t checked off your greece bucketlist. “i want to see the sunrise,” you said, your hands on pierre’s shoulders. he looked back, seeing the scenery through the window, and when he looked back at you he pressed your body against his, your legs around his waist instinctively, and carried you out to the balcony. bedsheets around you and everything. “wait,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, but he didn’t stop, he sat on the floor with you on his lap.
“ma belle wanted to see the sunrise, and that’s what we’ll do,” he smiled, proud of himself. you couldn’t hold back a grin, so you leaned your head against his shoulder, seeing the sky change colors, your head moved up and down to the beat of pierre’s steady breathing. “i had a great time last night,” he said after a few minutes of silence. your lips curled up as you lifted your head.
“me too. i mean, if it wasn’t obvious,” you chuckled, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks. “i’d never done something like this before,” you confessed.
“what?”
“a holiday hookup,” you looked at the sky, watching as it settled into a golden daylight. the sky turning its usual shade of bright blue.
“ah,” he laughed, “and what did you think?”
“i think you’ve ruined it for any other guys in the future,” you chuckled.
“well, that’s a confidence boost,” he leaned his head back against the wall, a cocky grin on his face.
“like you need it,” you joked, “i think i should get going,” you said, but made no attempts to actually get up.
“will i see you again?”
“maybe.”
“maybe?” he asked, his hand playing with the skin of your back, trailing his fingers up and down.
“i haven’t left yet and you already want to meet me again?”
“yes. today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. i liked you. and i liked… what we did all night.” was he blushing? you swore you saw a pink tint on his cheeks. “and if that’s okay with you, i’d like to use the time we have here to get to know you better.”
you were left speechless for a few seconds, but the sincerity in his voice calmed your fears.
“don’t go sharing your devotion,” you leaned forward, brushing your lips over his. “tonight. same place. midnight.”
“okay. yes, perfect.” his eyes widened a little in excitement. “i will be there.”
“good.” you nodded, “i don’t have anything planned for today,” you raised an eyebrow, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to say. the way his eyes shifted from happiness to… want told you everything.
“you’re gonna love the bathtub, i think it’s big enough to fit us both,” he declared, standing up with you in his arms, walking you to the bathroom. he tossed the bedsheets to the side once he reached the door. “voulez-vous?” he asked again, you only nodded in reply.
since that night, you couldn’t listen to the song without thinking about pierre. and your friends and family couldn’t quite decipher why you came back home speaking more french than greek.
-
@idkiwantchocolatee @yeolsbubbles @spideyanakin
#summer of love#illicit summer#pierre gasly smut#pierre gasly one shot#pierre gasly fanfiction#pierre gasly fanfic#pierre gasly imagine#pierre gasly fic#pierre gasly fluff#pierre gasly#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly x you#pierre gasly x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 fandom#f1 drivers#f1#f1 drivers one shot#f1 drivers x reader#f1 fiction#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 imagine
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Ephemeral Love | Chapter 9
pairing: Seungmin x fem reader
genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, university au, right person wrong time, minor character death
pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)
warnings: swearing, minor violence (behind closed doors, literally), Jisung is back on his bullshit, mention of blood
summary: Does love last forever, or is it fleeting? For university juniors Kim Seungmin and Seo Y/n, it's love at first sight but sometimes you meet your soulmate at the wrong time.
word count: 1,155 (unedited)
screenshot count: 12
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©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
You stare at the blank word document, watching the cursor blink impatiently as it waits for you to write something. Anything. With a brain like yours, you were never short on words when it came to papers. The real issue is making it not sound like a wikipedia article. You've spent the past couple of weeks hanging out around Seungmin and his apartment. You did homework together and spent a lot of time talking but you kept putting off your paper. How could you say what hasn't already been said. It's giving you a headache. Your headache dulled slightly when Seungmin started texting you earlier.
Bam!
"What the hell...?" You send Seungmin a quick text as you get up from your desk and poke your head in the hallway of your apartment to figure out what that noise was.
The last time you heard a loud noise like that, Felix somehow managed knock down the entire bookshelf on top of himself and you were the only one home to help get it off of him. Magically, he only had a few cuts and bruises.
"Han, stop throwing shit at me!" Felix's voice booms through the apartment.
The yelling is coming from Felix and Jisung's room. Their door is wide open, letting you see straight into the bedroom, which is messier than usual. You abandon the safety of your room and walk into theirs.
"Why? Don't you trust me to not hit you in the face? Do you think I would stab you in the back?" Jisung shouts back. He's standing on his side of the room, clutching a rather large book. You recognize the book, it's the one you got him last Christmas about famous composers throughout history. You thought that reading it would get him out of the slump while he was composing his own music. You were right.
"Look, I said I'm sorry. But in all honesty, it wasn't fair for you to put me in the middle like that." Felix says softly from his side of the room. He's clutching a pillow, probably to protect him all the things Jisung has thrown at him. You can see the various stuffed animals, half empty water bottles, and notebooks littering Felix's side of the room.
"Fair? Bro, you went behind my back and told Y/n something I told you in confidence. How is that fair?" Jisung shouts before hurling the book straight at Felix's head. Luckily, Felix ducks narrowly dodging the book.
"What the hell is going on?" You ask panicked. You've never seen Jisung so mad.
"Oh for fuck's sake..." Jisung mutters before walking over to you, gently shoving you out of the room and slamming the door in your face.
You stare at the door trying to process what just happened. You can hear muffled yelling on the other end, Felix's voice significantly louder than Jisung's. You're unsure what to do. The three of you are the only one's home. Chan left a few hours ago to go to play rehearsal and Changbin has been at work for most of the day. You know better than to get in between them right now. You've gotten hurt getting in the middle of their play fighting before, you don't even want to think about what would happen if you tried that while they're actually fighting.
You anxiously shift the weight from one foot to the other as you stand behind the door with your hand on the door knob unsure if you should at least try to intervene. You freeze when you hear a pained scream come from the room.
You swallow the lump in your throat and open the door. You find Jisung flat on his back on the floor, clutching his face, and Felix standing over him, all the color drained from his face and eyes transfixed with horror, unable to look away no matter how much he wants to.
"What the fuck happened?" You ask, kneeling down next to Jisung. Now that you're closer to him, you can see blood dripping down the side of his face and spilling through between his fingers.
"I-it was an accident. He, he started shoving me and getting in my face and I told him to fucking stop but he wouldn't-- He fucking sucker punched me and I swung back without thinking. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, but he was pissing me off." Felix says quickly. You're not even sure how you understood him with how fast he was speaking, running his words together.
"Ji, let me see your face," You say calmly. You grab one of the shirts that's laying on the ground, ready to use it to help stop the bleeding.
"I'm fine," He chokes out as he sits up, more blood dripping down his face.
"Bullshit, you're bleeding profusely all over yourself and the carpet. Pretty sure you broke your nose. Let me check," You say, gently trying to get him to move his hands.
"Why do you even care?" He chokes out. He almost definitely has blood in mouth.
"Because you're my best friend even though you're being an asshole to me."
"Best friend, right..." He says softly.
"Ji--"
"Just leave me alone," He get up and leaves the room. You hear a door slam on the other side of the apartment.
You shut your eyes and take a deep breathe before running off to your bathroom and grab the hydrogen peroxide and a washcloth. You go back to the room and quickly clean up the bloodstains.
"How are you doing, Lix?" You ask Felix as you clean.
"He knocked the wind out of me and my hand hurts but I'm okay." He explains.
"What happened? Why were you two fighting?"
"I told him that you knew that he likes you and then it escalated very quickly."
"He's acting like a fucking child," You mutter under your breath.
"You can't exactly blame him. How would you feel if Seungmin didn't like you back?"
"I wouldn't be throwing a temper tantrum about it, that's for sure. He's 21 years old but he's acting like a toddler who didn't get his way. He can't get mad at me for not liking him back."
You finish cleaning up the blood on the floor just as Jisung walks back into the room. His nose is noticeably swollen and red, already forming a bruise. He has a cut on the bridge of his nose. He refuses look at you or Felix as he lays on his bed.
"Get out, both of you." He says loudly.
"This is Lix's room too. You can't just kick him out." You argue.
"Y/n, it's fine. Let's just let him cool off," Felix says softly as he ushers you out of the room. Closing the door behind him. You take another deep breath before pushing Felix into your room and leaving him to get him an ice pack.
—
Buy me a coffee?
#feelbokkie writes#ephemeral love smau#stray kids#skz#stray kids smau#skz smau#chan#bangchan#bang chan#lee know#minho#lee minho#changbin#seo changbin#seungmin smau#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#han#jisung#han jisung#felix#yongbok#lee felix#lee yongbok#lee felix yongbok#seungmin#kim seungmin#i.n#jeongin
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Sapkowski the Pagan: The Grail & The Goddess
Andrzej Sapkowski and Stanisław Bereś. 2005. Historia i fantastyka
One of the more fascinating features of Sapkowski's writing is the intertextuality of his works; their relation not only to preceding legends and fantasy, but also to his own works. There are several topics and ideas that repeat, in various shapes, throughout. As I am going through the Hussite Trilogy right now, I am taking notes.
Among his works I herein count The Witcher, The Hussite Trilogy & The World of King Arthur. Maladie. The latter must constitute the closest we have gotten so far to authorial research notes on ideas of interest.
The ley lines (so far):
Humanim, i.e. decency
(Erotic) Love's salving & dooming qualities
Amantes amentes. Those who love are out of their minds.
Take heart. Have pity.
Woman, the Grail of being
Fairy tales brought to life (but there's a snag)
Prophecies/Grand narratives
Folk stories & beliefs
Witchcraft
The Cult of the Goddess, the Great Mother, The One who is Three
The perishing of the old (but not quite disappearing) & the brutal onset of the new. Change and upheaval.
Common sense vs idealism vs pragmatism
Anti-taxes, anti-clergy
Anti-fanaticism
The Grail & The Goddess
"For the Goddess has many names. And still more faces."
First, Andrzej Sapkowski construing Ciri as The Holy Grail is documented. It's not merely conjecture based on the text(s), although the text overwhelmingly declares it.
Cutali, Daniele. 2015. Interview with Andrzej Sapkowski
But so what?
The Witcher is an extremely allusive and meta-literary work. It deconstructs mythical matter and fantasy canon in the same breath as establishing itself in the eternal mythical present of legends. It completes itself as a self-aware analogue, because everything has already happened, and everything has already been written about. And Ciri - Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon - sits at the centre of its method and madness; not only the axis of plot events, but also the spindle of its meta text. It's apparent already in her name. O Elaine, O Rhiannon. All Christian legends have a pagan origin. This Polish newborn has Arthurian origins. And Arthurian itself…?
In The World of King Arthur, Andrzej Sapkowski gives his account of the Arthuriana's transformation through centuries of re-writes. It is self-evident for him that for anyone to understand anything at all about Arthur, they need to orient in the history of the British Isles and in Celtic mythology.[1] Arthur was, in all probability, a Celt. And so was the Grail, if not even more ancient. 'The Grail - like almost every element of the Arthurian legend - has its origins in Celtic mythology. This is absolutely certain and has been confirmed many times,' he writes in Świat króla Artura. So what did Arthur believe? What views and values lay at the heart of the world in which he originated? Why is this relevant for a more meaningful reading of The Witcher?
Because the world of the Celts, as so many pre-Christian cosmologies, was a living world - an animistic, self-eating and self-renewing entity, cyclical, circular, without beginning or end, embracing life out of death - and Ciri is a living Grail. Ideas repeat in Andrzej Sapkowski's writing.
Ciri, a living Grail. A girl. A young woman. A Goddess. She who is Triple. A source of rebirth and hope, of death too. Strange magic is enclosed in her veins, as in Ceriddwen's Cauldron, that is of the essence of life. Cauldrons abound in Celtic mythos (be you Dagda, hero Cuchulainn, Brân or Pwyll, you got your hands on a cauldron eventually). But Ciri does not need to be rendered an artefact in order to hold power, because… she is a woman. That alone is enough.
Sapkowski's appreciation for compelling female characters should be well-known.
Sapkowski, A. 1995. The World of King Arthur. Maladie
'Celtic mythology,' Sapkowski notes in Świat, 'is mainly about the love life of the gods.' Gods fighting, scheming, and transcending themselves for goddesses. It's called the oldest story in the world; girl meets boy. But that's not quite the beginning of it: in the beginning, we're all born to a mother.
The Grail's functions and characteristics are notably maternal and feminine, and the mystery and nature of the Grail's power is love.
Sapkowski, A. 1995. The World of King Arthur. Maladie
Great, White, Triple
Who? And what features?
The ability to provide food is the property of the Grail most often referred to. Nourishment. Revitalization. Mother is the only parent who may truly feed her child with her body. Or give birth. The Chalice symbolically representing the "Womb of the Mother" is a very old idea. Old and basic. The most basic. Bernard of Clairvaux even calls upon Mary, saying: "Offer your son, sacred Virgin, and present the blessed fruit of your womb to God. Offer the blessed host, pleasing to God, for the reconciliation of us all" (qtd. in Bynum, 268). But we'll talk about the role of Christianity and symbolism another time. For first, we are pagans.
"Drawing from various sources, I assumed that – although I am not a blind follower of this theory – the feminine element dominates in nature. If there is any cult not related to politics, it is the cult of the Great Mother, the Goddess. The belief in the male God, Yahweh, worshiped by Jews, had a political character – Yahweh was invented because he had to be invented to maintain certain social structures. For primitive people, the mysterious, divine element was exclusively femininity, the ability to give life. However, I emphasize that I am not defending these theories from a religious studies standpoint; they simply resonate with me."
- Andrzej Sapkowski and Stanisław Bereś. 2005. Historia i fantastyka
This idea that resonates with Andrzej Sapkowski so strongly as to appear in virtually everything he has written was re-kindled as an ideology by the neo-Celtic, neo-pagan Wicca movement (Gardner, Murray, Starhawk, et al). Foundational text: The White Goddess by Robert Graves. The idea precedes the Celts though, and, at heart, revolves around nature and man being inseparable.
Ceridwen is one of the forms of the Celtic Goddess, and her cauldron is the womb-cauldron of rebirth and inspiration. In early Celtic myth, the cauldron of the Goddess restored slain warriors to life. It was stolen away to the Underworld, and the heroes who warred for its return were the originals of King Arthur and his Knights, who quested for its later incarnation, the Holy Grail. The Celtic afterworld is called the Land of Youth, and the secret that opens its door is found in the cauldron: The secret of immortality lies in seeing death as an integral part of the cycle of life. Nothing is ever lost from the universe: Rebirth can be seen in life itself, where every ending brings a new beginning.
Most Witches do believe in some form of reincarnation. This is not so much a doctrine as a gut feeling growing out of a world view that sees all events as continuing processes. Death is seen as a point on an ever-turning wheel, not as a final end. We are continually renewed and reborn whenever we drink fully and fearlessly from “the cup of wine of life.”
- Starhawk. 1979. The Spiral Dance
Nature's heartbeat resounds in reincarnation through reproduction. The gentle fury of love.
“Listen to the words of the Goddess, whose arms and thighs are wrapped around the Universe!�� called the shaman. “Who, at the Beginning, divided the Waters from the Heavens and danced on them! From whose dance the wind was born, and from the wind the breath of life!”
“I am the beauty of the green earth,” said the Domina, and her voice was like the wind from the mountains. “I am the white moon among a thousand stars, I am the secret of the waters. Come to me, for I am the spirit of nature. All things arise from me and all must return to me, before my visage, beloved by the gods and mortals.”
“Eiaaa!”
“I am Lilith, I am the first of the first, I am Astarte, Cybele, Hecate, I am Rigatona, Epona, Rhiannon, the Night Mare, the lover of the gale. Black are my wings, my feet are swifter than the wind, my hands sweeter than the morning dew. The lion knows not when I tread, the beast of the field and forest cannot comprehend my ways. For verily do I tell you: I am the Secret, I am Understanding and Knowledge.”
"Worship me deep in your hearts and in the joy of the rite, make sacrifices of the act of love and bliss, because such sacrifices are dear to me. For I am the unsullied virgin and I am the lover of gods and demons, burning with desire. And verily do I say: as I was with you from the beginning, so you shall find me at the end."
Sapkowski, A. 2002. The Tower of Fools
It is for this reason the Irish recorded so many songs of aitheds - motifs of female abduction. It is for this reason one of the earliest legends of the search of the Grail is the tale of the hero Culhwch's quest for the hand of Olwen, who, wherever she stepped, made four white clovers bloom under her feet.[2] It is why Ciri, the living Grail in whom the function of the Goddess has been doubled, finds herself in a double-bind; as the keeper of power and immortality she is more frequently seen as means to an end rather than an end in herself. Not unusual for any failed relationship where the parties confuse love for something else. And while we are confusing notions of erotic and spiritual love, the Question of the Grail which must be asked of the Fisher King, undoubtedly, still comes down to a question about love.
Sapkowski, A. 1995. The World of King Arthur. Maladie
Celtic mythology is about the love life of the gods. The longing for a union; that completes. That turns the wheel and closes the cycle. That revitalizes, heals, nourishes, allows for flourishing. That immortalizes; if not oneself, then at least a moment. And what is life but fleeting moments, grains of sand passing through an hourglass?
Sapkowski, A. Something Ends, Something Begins
It can get confusing. The Goddess has many names and many faces, and three aspects.
Sapkowski, A. 1995. The World of King Arthur. Maladie
As to the inherent eroticism of the Grail, well…
Sapkowski, A. 1995. The World of King Arthur. Maladie
He wanted to tell her everything, but the words stuck in his tight throat.
She saw it. She knew. How could she not? For only in Reynevan’s eyes, stupefied by happiness, was she a maiden, a trembling virgin who was embracing him, eyes closed and biting her lower lip in painful ecstasy. For any wise man—had there been one nearby—the matter was clear: she was no shy and inexperienced young lass, but rather a goddess proudly receiving the homage due to her. And goddesses know and see everything.
And do not expect homage in the form of words.
She pulled him onto her and the eternal rite began.
- Sapkowski, A. 2002. The Tower of Fools
Sapkowski's interest for the fates of men in the power of the Goddess is only surpassed by his hope for the triumph of common sense and humanism. And the mystery of the Grail - what unleashes its power? - is of both sexual and platonic variety. Humanity is important. Heart. As in Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival. As per Campbell: 'The big moment in the medieval myth is the awakening of the heart to compassion, the transformation of passion into compassion. That is the whole problem of the Grail stories, compassion for the wounded king.' [4]
Thanks to Ciri, the story of Geralt of Rivia - a grail knight who set out with his hanza in search of a dream - is ennobled and raised on par with King Arthur. It is Yennefer and Geralt's love and compassion and sacrifice for Ciri, which ultimately heals them. An echo of love for his daughter melts the ice shard in the heart of an Emperor. The mystery and nature of the Grail's power resides in love.
"Love has many names,” said Hans Mein Igel suddenly, “and it will determine your fate, young herbalist. Love. It will save your life when you won’t even know that it is love. For the Goddess has many names. And still more faces.”
- Sapkowski, A. 2002. The Tower of Fools
By the end of The Witcher, Ciri's journey as the Goddess has barely begun. And what has begun has begun traumatically. Her journey to know herself, to find, forgive, understand, and accept (or reject) the Grail within, has not yet dawned. She remains in a liminal space between the Maiden and the Woman after having, already and much too early, worn the guise of Death, the Crone. The author doesn't tell; he lets the reader wonder. For before Ciri is everything. But Grail, the Goddess, requires something, and also empowers with what she requires.
Sapkowski, A. 2002. The Tower of Fools
Love leads spring into the Waste Land of the human heart.
Love, compassion, willingness to suffer with and for another, readiness to transcend one's own pain, selfishness, and rage. For three things last forever: faith, hope, and love - and the greatest of these is love.[3]
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[1]: Sapkowski mainly used Mythology by Thomas Bulfinch, Celtic Myth and Legend, Poetry and Romance by Charles Squire and Mabinogion.
[2]: In order to marry Olwen, Culhwch must take her from her father, but Ysbaddaden will first set him on an endless quest; a list of long and laborious tasks. In the name of a woman.
[3]: Or, as The Tower of the Swallow renders it: 'Are, then, Chaos, art and learning according to you, the Powers capable of changing the world? A curse, a blessing and progress? And aren't they by any chance Faith? Love? Sacrifice?'
[4]: Campbell, J. 1991. The Power of Myth
#wiedźmin#the witcher#the witcher books#andrzej sapkowski#the hussite trilogy#the world of king arthur#ciri#cirilla fiona elen riannon#wicca#the holy grail#arthuriana#the witcher meta
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