#(bc I like. exclusively write time lords. except for when I don’t!)

[canisonicscrewyou]

Hey y’all want some D-D-Doctor Who Playlists

because GOD I have a lot of them. and I’m not gonna lie they’re MOSTLY thoschei. some are better than others. featuring a fair amount of The Mountain Goats, AJJ, My Chemical Romance, Mitski, Sidney Gish, Hozier, Talking Heads, folk punk, emo,, and literally so much more songs. so many song. different flavors. yum yum eat up (is unreasonably pleased with all of these)

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

if you’re going crazy, just grab me and take me

summary: after the worst year with this fucking family, Ransom proposes on ❄️ chrstmas eve  ❄️ it obviously doesn’t go over as well as his emotionally-stunted ass thought it would.

warnings: every god damn word in this thing is a problem. rough smut. choking, anal, hair-pulling, biting, this shit makes the first chapter seem light, i’ll just say that. a lot of fighting. verbal and physical. there’s some fluff but don’t let ransom trick you like he’s obviously tricked me.

word count: this shit is almost 25,000 fucking words 😂😂😂. i dead ass kept being like why the fuck am I taking so long to post this? Then I saw the word count and I 😳🤭🤗😂 someone pls tell me i did not just devote 25,000 words to exposing myself as a weak ass hoe for Ransom. pls tell me this is a fever dream. i can’t.

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: holy fuck, am i a disaster. i apologize, i kept falling asleep and wow, i’m just confused about my entire process for writing this bc it was abnormal af.

part one: x part two: x (however, you don’t really need to read them to understand this mess? pretty sure.)

Christmas Eve:

It somehow felt that the entire hellscape that you were currently living in had simultaneously transpired yesterday but also years ago. That was the common feeling one was left with in times of so much exposure to Thrombeys. It was a whirlwind, but there were the good moments, and then the really bad moments, but then the kind of fun moments… It was a rollercoaster, honestly. One you had incorrectly believed you could cope with.

Meg and Joni had called you in a panic from the ski lodge they’d gone to in Canada. There was talk of stopping all flights, how were they going to get home? And lord, what about their home? Were they really supposed to stay there? Since being cut off, Joni had made some career moves that were smart, but she still had to scale back. They were in a much smaller place than before, one that was only temporary—Joni claimed as much about one million times while signing the papers for it.

Jacob had been the next to call, a hysterical Donna could be heard in the background. They had also been moving into another home because of financial issues. You weren’t sure what the ploy was with having Jacob call. Out of everyone in the family, he was the one you spoke to the least, maybe in competition with his irritating mother. Perhaps that had been the angle, were you really going to leave them isolated with their possibly murderous son in such a small house in an unknown neighborhood?

The answer was no. You weren’t going to leave out any Thrombeys. The Drysdales, on the other hand… You had made your terms quite clear. So, with the news of a quarantine sweeping across the country, these overprivileged people flocked to the house they had once called their own. But it was your house now, and that meant it was well within your right to exclude Linda and Richard.

The night you had told Ransom about it was…quite a night.

March: the arrival,

Your grand idea was to deliver the news quickly, over a drink when he was in the best mood he could be. You casually told him that Joni and Meg would be arriving first, then Walt, Donna, and Jacob.

He stared for a long time before simply stating, “I will not let them in the house.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ransom—”

He leaned forward, slamming his glass down on the table between you. “It’s not happening.”

You arched an eyebrow. Was he trying to be intimidating? Oh, you would be just terrified if you were an elderly author or poor nurse tasked with caring for the mentioned author. Seeing as you were his girlfriend, he was out of luck on that.

“I will lock the doors,” he declared, standing to place his hands on his hips. “Not one of those assholes is getting in here. You understand me?”

Instead of answering, you grabbed your drink and returned to the magazine in your lap. That was probably Ransom’s greatest source of irritation, when you decided you were done with the dramatics and ignored him.

He scoffed. “The fact that you think this is happening… It just goes to show—you call me a narcissist, but clearly, you are the narcissist! It takes one to know one!”

It takes one to know one? “Are you five?”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

With a soft sigh, you turned the page. It was silent for several seconds and you weren’t sure if he was trying to build up to something or if he just had nothing else left to try. Whatever it was, you told yourself you were ready for it. How many years was it now? You couldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Are you only with me for sex?”

And you stood corrected. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You clearly don’t care about my feelings—”

“Ransom, seriously, shut up. This is happening, okay? Your family is scared right now, you could try being human. This was their home for a time, of course, they want to be somewhere they feel comfort—”

“No, I’m putting my foot down.”

You rolled your eyes again. “You don’t have a foot to put down. This is my house, too.”

“Too,” he repeated firmly. “Too!”

“Ransom,” you snapped, getting to your feet and throwing the magazine on the table. “Stop acting like a child. They will be here tomorrow. I’m going to bed and if you wanted to join me, that would be great.”

He sat back down, a clear indication that that was not happening.

Things with Ransom, since the last argument, hadn’t been as tense as you thought they would be. Majorly, nothing really changed. Well, sex changed. You guys just weren’t doing that, which was major, because of the rate at which it had been occurring. But other than that, nothing changed. He wasn’t ignoring you, he wasn’t not touching you, there was very simple no sex. At all. But was that something you were okay with? Hell no. It was getting old and you were getting fucking tired of it.

“Fine, if you don’t, just know that I am keeping track.”

“Track?” he narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”

“How many nights I’ve slept without you and how many nights you’ve gone without fucking me.”

“After your last indiscretion, did you really expect anything else? Which you still haven’t apologized for, by the way.”

“Apologize?” you scoffed. “For keeping a fucking vibrator? What do you want me to say, Ransom? Sorry that I have yet to give you total control over my body?”

“That is exactly what I want to hear.”

Without another word, you simply rolled your eyes at him and stormed off to the room you had once upon a time shared with your boyfriend. Not that he officially moved out. In fact, he was still sleeping in there and kept his shit in there. But he was not falling asleep with you nor was he was present when you woke up.

You had no idea what he was doing in there and you were trying to be human, unlike Ransom. Everyone deserved privacy. Besides, he’d made you your sunroom and it afforded him a lot of forgiveness. It was this tiny extension of the house that had huge windows and was just small enough to fit your yoga mat, a couch, and about a billion plants. You read there a lot, you also escaped Ransom a few times. You could understand his desire for an office. But as frequently as he was using it? That was scary.

Admittedly, it was difficult to stay mad at him when you walked through the house that you’d almost now completely rebuilt together. The only exclusion being the office. It had been one of those Harlan rooms that you’d never actually been in prior because you were not family. Weeks ago, you watched Ransom remove everything, add new things, but you still hadn’t been inside. He didn’t so much tell you that it was his own personal room, but it was very clear in how he locked the door. Like, all the time.

You had already been prepping for bed, knowing that the discussion was going to be exhausting. You threw yourself straight into bed, not overly optimistic about the possibility that you were going to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the argument, the mention, the acknowledgment that you guys weren’t having sex. Did he even care? It didn’t seem like it. That caused concern for you. You’d always thought that you would be much older when the two of you would be having no sex. You wondered if things were changing, if your relationship was changing.

Officially, it was hopeless. You were not going to fall asleep. You were just about to get back up when you heard him walking up the stairs, you froze, held your breath, hoped that maybe he wanted to end this. Instead, he walked by the room and to the end of the hall, where said office was.

Fine, fuck him. You just had to get up and moving, there was no shortage of shit you had to prepare. Jacob, though terrible, was family, and a teenage boy. You were going to set him up in a smaller room on the bottom floor. Harlan usually had live-in staff stay in that room if they ever fell on hard times. You figured he would enjoy the privacy. Walt might even enjoy not sleeping in the same room as the next Ted Bundy.

Meg’s room was the most used since she stopped by on weekends sometimes when Ransom was gone for the day or stayed out late. They always met in the kitchen when morning came to argue and give you a headache, however.

She probably needed towels in the bathroom. She might even end up wanting different sheets. Jacob would need more sheets. Was there a color you should give him in the case that the little psycho killed someone, if you wanted to prevent stains? Joni’s room had been cleared out except for major furniture so you wanted to get that set before the morning. You had intended to set all of this up at some horribly early hour, but you were too annoyed to try sleeping. What better time than now?

Did you even have food? You would probably need to go to the store in the morning. You would make a careful list and ensure that no one would need to leave the house again because you were not going to let one of these rich idiots get you sick. Food, sheets because as you were walking through the linen closet, you discovered that you didn’t have really any sets of sheets. Then, you would need laundry detergent, fabric softener. Not all the rooms had pillows—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ransom found you madly scribbling on a notepad in the center of Joni’s room. You didn’t bother to look at him when you answered, “Making a shopping list.”

“May I ask what for?”

“We have no sheets or pillows or food…or really anything, Ransom. Are we fucking vampires?”

He sighed as he made his way to you. “Okay, it’s time for bed.”

“Go away if you’re not going to be helpful.”

“No, get up now.” But he was met with nothing but silence. Instead of trying another round of verbal communication, he effortlessly grabbed your arms and picked you up.

“Ransom!”

He abruptly took your face in his hands. “They’re lucky they even get to be here. You’re not doing a single thing for these people.”

“Stop, okay? This is our house, we have to have these things—”

“No, you stop. Stop trying to do anything for them because no matter what, they’re going to complain.”

You glared. “Are you trying to help? Just go back to your stupid office and leave me be.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “It is time for bed. I’m taking you to the room—”

“I’m just going to sneak out as soon as you leave for your office, so don’t waste my time or yours—”

He abruptly threw you up over his shoulder.

“Ransom!” you shrieked in absolute panic, he had never done this. Dragged you kicking and screaming? Yes. Literally pulled you along the floor by your legs? Yes. This? No, not once.

He was quick to get to the room, worried about how exactly you would react, what you were willing to do to make him drop you. He tossed you down on the mattress.

“You’re such an ass! I have to—”

He silenced you by pulling off his T-shirt.

So, he interrupted you because he wanted to have sex? After he had been withholding it? You feigned an unbothered expression. “Ransom, fuck off.”

He scowled. “Why did I have to find you? Why did life bring you to me? Personally, the meaningless fucking was fine for me, a lot less trouble.”

You scoffed. “Do you think I like being with you?! You’re the worst person I’ve ever fucking met, possibly the worst person on this fucking planet!”

He rolled his eyes. “Get on your knees.”

“You are not serious.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re seriously fucking insane, but you’re not serious in that you actually think that’s going to happen!”

“Get. On. Your. Knees. You can do it on your own or I can do it for you.”

You weighed your options. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend, you wanted to be close to him. However, if he left you after you sucked him off, you might end up killing him. But what could you do? Ransom was apparently in a mood.

Whatever theatrics that were going to occur tonight were already planned, you realized. If he was going to walk away, he was going to walk away. No amount of arguing or any other behavioral tactics were going to change that. You would hit him, you were sure of that, but at least you could get back to making your home presentable.

You reached back for a pillow and gave him a challenging look. He arched an eyebrow at you as you slowly jumped off the bed, laid your pillow at his feet and got to your knees.

“The fuck is this? You suddenly a princess?”

“I’ve always been a princess,” you declared. “One day, a wonderful man or woman, who’s going to give me an even bigger house, is going to know it.”

He glared. “What the fuck is your problem? Do I need to start paying you to keep your mouth shut?”

You snorted. “You have money?”

And that was, apparently, a line crossed for Ransom. Furiously, without another word, he yanked his pants open and shoved them down with his boxers.

Instead of staring at his cock in front of your face, you looked up at him.

He sighed. “Y/N, suck my cock.”

You shrugged. “Why?”

He took himself in one hand and grabbed your hair in the other. He brought your mouth to the head of his cock and waited patiently. You did nothing, simply kept your gaze on him. Rolling his eyes, he pulled at your hair.

You attempted to keep your lips clamped but he continued yanking until you opened your mouth to cry out. Then, without hesitation, he shoved his cock down your throat. You gagged instantly, hands snapping up to shove at his thighs. He wouldn’t budge, he kept you there no matter how hard you tried to push him away—which, admittedly, since you were so wet, wasn’t very hard—or how many times you gagged.

His free hand touched your cheek. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”

He could fuck off—as soon as he was done coming, you would walk away. You didn’t even want to be fucked by him anymore. But sadly, you had missed the taste of him, the feel of his skin on your tongue.

When he finally pulled you off his cock, you gasped for air. Then, once again, he was thrusting back in. You were choking on him, eyes watering, throat burning, drooling, sniffling, hands begging to be let up again with how hard they gripped his thighs.

But Ransom only let you off when he wanted. The second time, he allowed you to try to catch your breath. Your head was spinning since you were not quite getting oxygen back fast enough. You were blinking away those tiny black spots appearing behind your eyes. He used one hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks and whatever was falling down your chin.

Then he was bringing you down once more. Holding you in place, he began fucking your mouth slowly, gently, two words that normally did not apply to Ransom. He took his time, he wanted you aching and craving him, and you really fucking were. You thought you wouldn’t feel a thing if he walked away after thing, but now, you knew you were going to set that office on fire if he tried it.

As he neared his end, he grew noisier. You liked that about Ransom, he didn’t hold back due to some insane fragile masculinity thing—no, that was often displayed in less conventional ways. He liked fucking you and he liked letting you know.

He picked up speed eventually, paying no mind to the sounds of you choking every time he thrust in a tad too hard. You didn’t even care, you knew you would be soaking wet, if you just reached down and felt…

He yanked you down when he was coming, buried deep in your throat, reveling in the feel of your throat moving around him, trying not to choke, trying to breathe. “Don’t make a mess, baby, swallow everything I’m giving you.”

You tried, really, you were not just playing your usual game of disobedience. But he really was choking you, so when you tried to swallow, things did not go according to plan. You gagged, nothing was swallowed. A mess you did create. On him, the floor, yourself, the pillow.

Ransom pulled you off and then grabbed your arm to haul you up. His hand still in your hair, he forced you to look up at him, bending your neck back almost uncomfortably. You were still struggling with lack of oxygen and just about fell into him completely, clearly being bratty was not on your mind.

He waited patiently, as if he wanted an explanation. No, you did not intend to do the opposite of what he had told you, but you weren’t about to let him know that. “Baby,” he cooed. His hand slid up from your arm to your neck where some of his cum was sliding down toward your chest. “What was what?”

“Out of practice, I guess. It’s been months since you’ve touched me.” Okay, it had just barely been two months yesterday, but if he could be dramatic, you were allowed as well.

He arched an eyebrow. “Considering you only need to say one word to me, I don’t think you really want it that bad.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

His expression fell. He had hoped you would desperately blurt out an apology, clearly. Without another word, he shoved you onto the bed.

You stared up at him, face composed. “Don’t you have an office to be in?”

“You seem very jealous of that office, baby.”

“Why would I be? I finally get to be away from you.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your shorts and panties. The way he ripped them off you was damn near violent. You both wanted something rough tonight. “Then why is your pussy wet?”

You shrugged. “Couldn’t be for you. I can’t remember the last time you made me come.”

He leaned over, slowly crawling his way up your body.

Without prompt, you reached between your bodies and pulled your shirt over your head, arching a little more than necessary.

He took your forearms and pinned them to the bed. “Tell me how bad you need me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I’m not joking,” you countered. “I. Don’t. Need. You.”

He took your jaw in one hand, forcing you to meet his stare. “Y/N, seriously.”

He really wasn’t joking, but again, neither were you. “Ransom, if you walk out before you fuck me, I will leave you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking disappear, and you will never ever see me again.”

He smirked. “I understand.”

“I need you,” you breathed, free arm sliding around his shoulder, clinging tight. “I really fucking need you. I need you inside me. You know it’s been too long.”

Smiling like he just won the lottery, he rolled onto his side a little, turning your hips with him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Too long, baby, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t. You felt his tip at your entrance and you held your breath. He was a dick, yes, but you had been absolutely starving for his touch, his attention.

He pressed inside and it stung almost as bad as it had the first time. You turned your head away, hand pressed to your mouth to keep quiet. You hadn’t noticed your eyes were filled with tears until he touched your cheek and you blinked in surprise. You weren’t sure what you were crying about, the pain or the relief of finally feeling him.

You kept yourself turned from him, hoping he would just drop it. Of course, he wouldn’t. Of course, the one time you were willing to give Ransom a pass to be a complete ass, he wouldn’t want to take it.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he cooed. He had stopped, letting you adjust to him. However, Ransom didn’t have an ounce of patience and you knew his restraint was slipping. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it better.”

You also knew he wasn’t sorry. You squeezed your eyes shut until he was buried inside you. Feeling so full was something you had missed but feeling wanted was what you had been longing for. He could say the words, he could give you lingering looks when you were wearing a dress or a tight top, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t convince you like when he just grabbed you and used you to satisfy every sick desire he had.

He grabbed your face and forced you to turn back but your eyes were shut. Instead of trying to get you to look at him, he kissed you. His lips moved over yours until you were finally curling into him, his arm wrapped around your back and pinned you against him.

Intimate, close, slow, but so fucking hard, that was how he made you come the first time. There were no words, just grabbing each other, gasping into the kiss, biting one another’s lips, tongue and teeth, scratching nails, pulling hair. He watched your face as you were coming down, hips still snapping up, fingers brushing along your cheeks.

He rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You hissed at the ache of this new angle, using your knees to pull off just a little. He took your hands and set them to the headboard. The way he stared up at you, like he was worshiping every inch of you, it made your skin burn.

“Ride me,” he ordered.

Hands gripping the bed, your hips began to roll. Ransom stared the whole time, where his cock was disappearing inside you, your moving breasts, your gorgeous, soft body. He used one hand to pinch your nipples alternatively and the opposite hand to focus solely on your clit.

You were breathless, shaking, chasing after that climbing high. You let the headboard go in favor of grabbing his hands, dragging them up to circle around your neck. As he began to apply pressure, you continued bouncing on his cock, unashamedly screaming now that he was stifling the noise.

Watching your eyes fill with tears, hearing those strangled sounds tear from your throat, it was enough to get him there as soon as your cunt started to tighten. He was coming with you, squeezing your neck tighter, so tight you tried to pull his hands off you.

But it was futile, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He threw you down, rolling over so he was on top of you. You wrapped your legs around him, spreading your thighs and taking him in deeper.

He set one hand to the mattress to hold himself up but kept his other hand on your neck. He leaned over, forehead pressing to yours, breathing hotly against your skin. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” you choked out.

“You know.”

You always knew. He had only asked you for this one other time since you’d said it that first night. You stopped caring that he was probably never going to say it back. “I love you.”

His hips finally stilled. You weren’t sure what his response was going to be, but you knew what it wasn’t going to be. Yes, you’d stopped caring, but were you okay with it? You weren’t entirely convinced. But what were you going to do? Leave Ransom? That seemed highly unlikely.

So, you decided to speak before he could. “Even though you’re a fucking loser.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And I guess you’re hot enough to keep around even if that mouth annoys the hell out of me.”

That, you suspected, was as close as he was going to get to ever stating his feelings for you. “Are you going to let me get back to my list?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Not done yet.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You lasted, like, three minutes—”

He gave you a sharp look. “Must be my age, I guess I’ll need a minute before I can go again. But you, baby girl,” he grabbed one of your hands and brought your fingers up to his lips.

You watched closely as he kissed every knuckle before he brought your hand down and pressed your first two fingers to your clit. You shuddered. “Ransom, wait—”

“Since you like getting yourself off so much, you’re going to—”

You sighed. “Ransom, please—”

“And I’m going to watch until I’m ready to fuck you again.”

You pouted up at him. “You said it was time for bed.”

“I changed my mind.” He pulled your legs from around him and sat back to watch you. He pulled one thigh further from the other and gave you an expectant look. “I wasn’t asking, baby.”

For what felt like the first time in years, you were woken up by your boyfriend with his hand between your legs. You were laying on his chest, he was kissing the top of your head, tracing patterns along your spine and just barely teasing your clit.

All he needed to know was that you were awake and then had you pinned underneath him before you could say a word. Last night was nice but now the sun was shining through the blinds and you could see all of him. The freckles on his skin, the fine lines around his mouth because he does actually smile even if he doesn’t want anyone to know. And all his muscles—ugh.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

You smiled. “I have to get up and start getting ready.”

“No, baby. The only thing you need to do is open your legs so your boyfriend can fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

“Oh, deserve?” you scoffed. “I always deserve to be fucked. What changed your mind?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “Does it matter?”

Few things did when it really came down to your relationship with Ransom. It was all one huge give-and-take and neither of you shied away from taking advantage of that lack of communication.

He kept you there for nearly half an hour, insisting that you give him just one more finish, but he’d done that nearly four times. The reason you were able to escape was that there was someone at the door. As Ransom when to see who it was, you ran for the shower.

You were surprised when he joined you. One of your favorite things in your entire relationship was taking showers with Ransom, but it rarely happened. Whether that be because you were always on a time limit when you were getting ready or because he woke up later than you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I miss taking showers with you, you’re warm.”

He turned to kiss your cheek. “You going shopping?” he muttered against your skin.

“Yeah, we don’t have anything either. We’re out of your favorite cookies, you know.”

He hummed. “Okay, just be safe. Wear a mask and try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Put everything in the back of your car, I put hand sanitizer in there so use it before you touch anything inside.”

You scoffed as you looked back, eyebrow arching. “You sound scared.”

He shrugged. “Well, you know… I just don’t want you to get sick.”

You smiled a little.

“Because I don’t want to have to take care of you.”

“Ugh, Ransom!” You brought your hand up to flick his forehead, but he caught your wrist and used the opposite hand to turn you around.

His arm slid across the small of your back and he picked you up to walk you to the shower wall. He pinned you against it completely, the shower head was almost directly over the two of you. Instead of attempting to watch him, you closed your eyes and pulled him into a kiss by his hair. He angled his hips up and easily thrust inside you.

Your mouth dropped and you gasped, he used that as his chance to bite down on your lip. You were sore between your legs, but the ache was a reminder that Ransom had put aside his pettiness because he had wanted you so badly. You brought your leg up to hook around his hip and used that as your leverage as you began to roll your hips.

He shuddered and bit harder on your lip still trapped between his teeth. He only let it go so he could turn down and press his mouth to your shoulder. “Slow baby, fuck me slow.”

You did as he directed. You slid off his cock and then slid back down, using all the restraint you could muster because you couldn’t wait until his broke. You couldn’t wait for him to grab you and take charge.

His hand slid between the two of you and he began pressing down on your clit, just slightly.

“I could kill you, Ransom,” you blurted out. “You better not ever go so long without touching me again.”

He nodded. “I promise, I will not.”

If you had a question about his tone, it died when his hands finally grasped your hips. “Tell me what you want.”

“Hard,” you pleaded. “So hard, please. I want to feel you all day, I want it to hurt until you’re inside me again.”

And goodness, did he make it hurt. He fucked you until you could no longer stand, until you weren’t able to coherently tell him that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to on your own again.

He had to set you on the floor of the tub when he knew it was time to get out. You weren’t sure why, and if you had been in a better mindset, you would have remembered the importance of always asking Ransom questions about his actions. However, all you could do was stay still, a little dizzy, vibrating pleasantly all over.

It somehow felt like hours but only seconds that he left you alone. When he was standing you back up, you still didn’t have the good sense to ask what the hell he was doing, but you absolutely melted when he pulled you from the shower and wrapped you up in a warm towel. A towel that had clearly just come out of the dryer—this man, that he could be so perfect and just chose not to be, deserved to be in jail. Yeah, the murder thing was a strike against him, you guessed, but this? Unforgivable.

When you got back home, there were several cars that you had never seen. Somehow, despite not getting an inheritance, the Thrombeys still knew how to make money. Which just made the whole Harlan thing even more annoying. Why all the dramatics? Rich people didn’t get poor the same way poor people got poorer. It was merely a showing of greed.

But you could not dwell on things like that, otherwise, this whole thing was going to go bad much quicker than you had suspected. You also couldn’t be the one that made it go bad. You weren’t an actual Thrombey or a Drysdale—and never would be since you fell in love with the least committal one of them all. You, despite extending your home and kindness, needed to be a lot more behaved than Ransom.

As you were bringing in the groceries, you glanced at the cars. There were five in total and you shuddered to think Jacob was driving. He was about that age, of course, but still, yikes. Meg and Joni probably showed up separately, which meant Donna and Walt did as well. Okay, weird, but you long ago stopped trying to guess why these people did what they did.

You wrestled with the front door for a moment and the noise of it brought in Joni and Meg. The older woman was completely decked out in crystals, unsurprisingly, you had just read an about how crystal shops were doing particularly well at this time.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted.

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” Meg immediately responded, taking some of the bags from your hands.

Joni followed her daughter’s lead. “Yes, honey, let us help you.”

Okay, suspicious. These people rarely did a thing that would constitute as the simplest of work—save for Meg, of course. “Thanks, but Ransom really should be helping me.” You gently pressed the door back with your leg, not shutting it completely but trying to keep the cold at bay. “Ransom!”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Joni informed.

“Great, we can head that way.”

On the walk there, you found Donna and Walt were in what was now one of many family rooms. They greeted you a tad overenthusiastically—regardless, you couldn’t stop, you’d just deal with it later.

“You didn’t need to go shopping for us,” Donna said.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you assured. “We needed a few things, I thought I’d get it done all at once so you guys wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

As if given a cue, they all began to thank you again. Again, you would need to deal with this when your arms were less full and there weren’t about a million bags in the back of your car.

You led the way to the kitchen, Meg and Joni on your tail. “Was the trip over here easy enough?”

“So weird,” Joni claimed. “People are literally going insane. I went to my usual crystal shop before I got here…”

Typical. She proceeded to tell you about how she had an “altercation” with a woman for a tiger’s eye finished into the shape of her animal spirit guide—which you were forgetting at the moment, a swan or something.

You stopped trying to recall those past conversations in case she quizzed you about what your animal was—she had stressed the importance of finding it and you promised you would the next time you saw her—when you saw Richard and Linda sitting at your kitchen table. Ransom was at the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand.

You merely glanced at them before turning to him. There were no words at all for the rage you felt at that moment. Joni had stopped speaking and was working to get the bags she’d taken from you onto a flat surface so she could grab the rest.

“Y/N!” Richard greeted. “Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”

You lifted your eyebrows at Ransom.

“She obviously didn’t know, Richard,” Linda pointed out. “Because she’s been trying to steal my son away since the day that she met him.”

You turned to her. “Are you—?”

“No, no, no,” Joni interjected. “She didn’t mean that!” She set the last of the bags down and touched your shoulder. “She’s joking!” She turned to Linda. “You’re joking, right?”

“Of course,” Linda claimed, unconvincingly with a smirk that you had come to recognize as smug. Not that you’d seen it much on her, but her son, on the other hand…

Speaking of Ransom, he looked beyond exhausted. Only, he wasn’t, he was just trying to convey that because it was clear that he didn’t intend to have this discussion with you. It never was a discussion, because, for some reason, he made all the excuses in the world for his mother and would obviously choose her over you.

Suddenly, in your mind, things all fell into place. Richard and Linda probably got here after all the others, the rest had been set to get there around noon. He’d kept you in bed to stop you from getting home before them because then you could keep them out of the house, you could have caused a huge scene. Now? It was clear that you were outvoted, the rest of the family probably would have thought of you as unreasonable if you kicked them out now.

Fine, it was all fine. You weren’t going to argue about this, not then. It would give Linda joy to see you have a complete meltdown. Ransom had already humiliated you enough by doing this completely behind your back, you weren’t going to give her anything else.

You turned to the counter to grab his keys. “Well, then you get to go back to the store.” You threw the keys at his chest, probably harder than you should have, and turned to head back out to your car.

It was silent until you exited the room, then Linda felt the need to voice her opinion no one asked for. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t marry her. She’s shopping for essential items the day company was planned to arrive?”

You turned right back around but Meg was there to usher you back outside. She knew you needed a moment of fresh air and a moment away from Linda. Meg was a rather sympathetic person, she understood completely where you were coming from. In her mind, you were right and Ransom was so wrong for what he did, and Linda was wrong as well. But she also told you, this was how this family went. Linda was at the top now that Harlan was gone. If you sincerely wanted to be with Ransom—and she was confused about that—you would have to suck it up.

That much you agreed with, to an extent. It was clear that you were never going to be able to fix these people completely, but you were trying to create boundaries. Linda could not hit your boyfriend, her son. But how was she going to learn that if Ransom didn’t give a damn? She wasn’t.

You were suddenly wishing you’d accepted the invitation from your parents to stay with them until this all settled down. You had been too scared, however, because of the distance that seemed to be growing with Ransom. Now, you just felt like an idiot.

He lied to you. He did this behind your back, and he used intimacy to distract you from his plans, and that was absolutely disgusting. You couldn’t get over that. You felt used, by the one person you’re supposed to be able to trust more than anyone else in the world.

“Meg, can we have a minute?”

You turned away as soon as you heard Ransom off to your side. If you had a minute with him, you would probably murder him.

“Um,” she started, shifting awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” you assured. “Can you start putting away the groceries, please?”

“Yes, I will do that,” she eagerly confirmed. Meg liked to feel helpful, she often felt guilty about her privilege and wanted to be anything but another typical Thrombey. It was refreshing given all the other extreme personalities you would have to be living with for a while.

“I bought enough sheets for every single bed in the house for the next ten years,” you informed. “Those are fine. We’ll just need more food, probably—”

Ransom reached out for your arm, but you jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hey—”

You finally turned to him. “I am not talking about this. You lied to me, you did this behind my back—”

“She’s my mom—”

“And I’m your girlfriend!” you hissed back. “And I am so fucking tired of this and you. Last night, you had sex with me to distract me so you could fucking sneak your parents in here. Who does that?!”

“That’s not why I had sex with you—”

“Really?” you demanded. No, you wouldn’t be having this talk, it wasn’t happening. Turning away, you sighed, “It doesn’t matter. I’m done talking to you about this, I’m serious. Do whatever the fuck you want, Ransom. That’s what you always do anyway. I’m done caring.”

“Look, we can’t be fighting with these people here—”

“You should have thought about that before you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“I’m having a really hard time right now not running you over with my car,” you asserted, “So I’m going to go back inside. I just need you to go to the store for me, okay? Please, can you do one thing, literally, Ransom, just one thing to help me feel, like, 10% less stressed about all of this?”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go to the store.”

“Great.” You started to pull out more bags from the car.

“Can we talk about this later?”

“I don’t know yet.” Hell no, but you weren’t going to tell him that. With full arms, you stormed around him and back into the house.

Later, when he got home, he discovered that you had moved out of the bedroom. Yes, you had moved your shit to another room, locked it, and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

April: the parents’ bedroom,

It was six in the morning, you had just failed at finishing your yoga routine due to your pounding headache. You’d thought a smoothie would make you feel much better, but see, that was with the condition that everyone else was still asleep.

Not the case.

Joni and Richard were currently in the middle of a debate about anti-maskers. Joni, surprisingly, given all her healing crystals shit, thought anti-maskers were idiots. Richard, on the other hand, believed this was a free country and people should have the right to choose anything and everything because “that’s America”.

You had a blender full of ingredients and when you finally got to turn it on, it was comparable to an orgasm. If only because you and Ransom were back to a no-touching arrangement. You could barely stand to look at him.

They seemed unbothered by the blender, their argument only getting louder. You went to the cabinet to grab some pills, anything that would make your head feel better. Could anything with these people? You weren’t overly optimistic about that prospect.

You took your place back at the blender, leaning down to fall into the pain of that instead of the politics conversation. They did this often. Last week, it was whether people should vote this November. Prior, it had been traveling bans, canceled events, whether unemployment should be giving people as much as they are. Linda and Walt interjected sometimes, even Meg because she couldn’t remain silent on a few occasions, but you, Ransom, and Jacob all but steered clear of it.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and stood up straight. You didn’t want anyone knowing you weren’t feeling well. Richard and Walt always acted like you were dying, Joni would start with her crystals and lectures about the importance of meditating.

Thankfully, it was just Ransom. He had been out, he was wearing a scarf, a heavy jacket, and his pale cheeks were flushed red. He nodded out of the room and you followed because silence seemed too tempting.

“What is it, Ransom?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I need a reason to speak to you?”

Your eyes fell shut and you pressed your fingers to your temples. He wasn’t being serious right now, was he? He wanted to have a conversation right now? You felt on the verge of death.

He touched your shoulder again. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache. Not a big deal.”

“Not trying to be an ass—”

You opened your eyes. “But you’re so good at it.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Ransom,” you sighed, shrugging his hand off.

He caught you before you could turn away. “Hey.”

“Ransom, please, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk much either.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He shrugged. “You know I know how to make you feel better when you have a headache.”

You hummed. “Sex? Why? Are you trying to distract me again? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour for me, but how willing you seem to wake up at 5 in the morning to have coffee with your mommy?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he insisted. “And she heard me come downstairs.”

“Yes, great cover. So convincing.”

“I do not wake up to have coffee with her every morning. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

You lifted your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He glared. “It’s because I hate sleeping without you.”

“You made me sleep without you—!”

“That was not what you think!”

You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum over the vibrator?”

“No, okay, stop. We’re not going back, okay? No talk about the past, we need to talk about now. You’re the one that made me promise that I wouldn’t withhold sex—”

“I’m not withholding sex, Ransom, I just have no desire to be around you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doubt that.”

“If you’re having issues sleeping, maybe you should ask your mommy to read you a bedtime story and—”

He pressed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you across the room.

Immediately, you started screaming at him. What the fuck? And you continued to do this until you realized he was leading you to Richard and Linda’s room. Eww, if you didn’t want to talk to him, you certainly didn’t want to talk to her.

But despite your struggling, he forced you into the room and slammed the door before you could escape.

“What the hell?” you demanded.

“This fight is over.”

“No, it’s not!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous because I care about you? I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. My parents want me to stay with them and I think I should—”

His eyes widened at you. “This is your god damn house—”

“You clearly don’t think so! I had one condition, just one fucking condition. I wanted her to apologize for trying to physically assault you and somehow that makes me the villain in this situation?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“You went behind my back, Ransom.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Wow, was that an actual apology? It didn’t matter. One apology a month later was too small. “Look, it’s too late, okay? I’m exhausted and I just want to go home—”

“This is your fucking home!”

“No, it’s your mother’s fucking home and it always will be if you let her do whatever the fuck she wants!”

“She apologized!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed.

He reached into his pants and yanked out his phone. Easily, he found one of the last texts that they had exchanged and turned it to you.

Don’t tell your psycho, fragile girlfriend but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I understand that it was out of line, it will not happen again. Can we come over? You know I don’t want to be alone with your father.

It took three seconds to go from partially angry to very, absolutely, completely outraged. You smacked the phone out of his hand and it clattered to the hardwood floor. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ransom!”

He threw his arms up. “For what?!”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this earlier?!”

“She would have known that I told you.”

“And?!”

“And,” he began, “I…don’t really know what I thought would happen.”

You shoved at his chest and he didn’t even have the energy to step back simply to make you feel better. He didn’t move an inch because you shoving him was like a cat trying to push a lion. “You are such a fucking mommy’s boy! I’m done with this whole thing, I’m done with you!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am! You can’t make me stay here, you can’t make me—”

“You love me!”

Your eyes widened. He made you tell him you loved him, never said it back, and now he was using it against you? “You are dead! Do you understand me?! I’m going to run you over with your fucking Beemer! Then I’m going to get a new boyfriend and I’m going to let him fuck me in that stupid fucking car!”

He grabbed a handful of your hair and your hands flew back to scratch at his forearm. He shoved you back onto the bed and made the mistake of rolling over to attempt to get away from him. He grabbed both of your wrists and managed to get them into one of his hands, then yanked down your yoga pants.

“You are tearing them, you ass!”

And then he smacked your bare skin hard enough that it echoed, loud enough that you were sure anyone in the kitchen could have heard it. Your entire body burned with humiliation, but you loved the pain. How had you survived so long without him doing this?

“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me in your parents’ room?” you snapped.

“No, I am going to fuck you in my parents’ room,” he corrected. “What? You’re not into this anymore? This wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They sleep here,” you reminded. “This is weird given your obsession with her.”

“I changed the sheets this morning.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re her maid now?”

He smacked you again and you pressed your face down to muffle your scream. “No, I just always knew that I was going to fuck you here today.”

You waited until the pain subsided before you turned your face, Ransom was still working the yoga pants down, a task that seemed impossible with only one hand. “Where were you today?”

“I had a meeting.”

“With whom?”

“None of your business.”

“Yes, it is my business, you fucking dick! If you’re not going to let me go home—”

He spanked you again, harder now, it seemed like an angry action, not just a retaliating one. “You are home, this is your fucking home and if you suggest otherwise again, I fucking swear—”

“What?” you demanded. “You’re going to tattle to your mommy?”

“I should fucking strangle you,” he growled, and before you could say anything, his hand was at your pussy. He scoffed. “You are seriously this wet? You have so many fucking issues.”

“One issue,” you argued. “You.” But that was a lie and he was more than right. You could hear him moving his pants out of his way and you were nearly shaking with the need to feel him.

Abruptly, he shoved his cock inside you and you both moaned as you adjusted around him. It was loud, obscenely loud, there was no question about what you two were doing, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Had he gotten bigger? No, that wasn’t possible. You were pretty sure it wasn’t.

You felt him moving to tear off his coat. “Don’t you dare throw that coat on this floor, Ransom.”

But he did and he did it so eagerly, like he wanted to irritate you. The floors were hardwood, Linda had her dogs in the home, and their fur got everywhere on Ransom’s clothes. He hated you, you hated it because he just threw things away—didn’t even donate them because he’s such a beast.

Next, you felt his scarf around your wrists and started struggling.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he snarled.  “You’re lucky I’m not fucking gagging you.”

As his hips began rocking just slightly, he grabbed your jaw and turned your head back. His lips found yours immediately and while you two were sharing a sloppy, unskilled kiss, he began driving his hips into you as hard as he knew you needed him to.

His skin was slapping against yours noisily, the bed was creaking, moving on those extra hard thrusts. He spread your legs out as wide as he could and held them there, fingers digging painfully into your skin.

Things became very clear to Ransom at that moment. You were underneath him, completely at his mercy since you were bound now. You were pouting, pretending that you didn’t like this, and he wanted to fuck that disobedience out of you. He sat back up, holding your hips as he kept steadily moving in and out of you. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”

You blinked once, twice. “What?”

He never pulled out, but he did lean over and start yanking on the drawers of one of the bedside tables.

“What are you doing?” No, he wasn’t going to actually…fuck you there. He’d never done it, he’d never even asked about it even though you brought it up a few times. He’d located your plugs that one time, he knew you were into it. But nothing. Why now?

“I know he has to have something,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to think about your parents like that.”

“Oh, no, just think of my dad like that,” he joked.

You shook your head. “Eww.”

“Oh, eww?” he checked. “Since when? You realize you can never talk about fucking him again, right? Looks like you’re going to have to provoke me in other ways now.”

“I didn’t mean ‘eww’ like that,” you claimed, “I meant ‘eww’ that your mom isn’t fucking him, and I definitely should be, because he totally deserves it for being such a great husband and father, but sadly, I’m here with you instead.”

“You’re such a fucking brat and—got it.” Ransom rarely moved fast, preferring to act like the cocky ass that he was, making it clear that he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted. Because you were never going to say no. But now, he was acting like he was in a race.

Your body tensed up as soon as you felt the sharp cold against your skin. Ransom took his fingers and spread the gel over your skin, you gasped when you felt one of his fingers teasing your hole.

He did this a few more times, just making sure that you were properly prepped before his first finger dipped inside you. He set his free hand to your back when you tensed. “Relax,” he ordered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured. You’d done this in the past, liked it, but it had been a long time since.

He started pumping his finger in and out and you began to squirm. You were trying to stay still and quiet, trying to hide how good he was making you feel, but he knew. When you pressed your hips back, he added his second finger and you winced.

His fingers already had you feeling so full. That was what you loved most about being with Ransom, you felt almost incomplete whenever he wasn’t in you. Your body was made to take his, to mold to him completely.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, baby,” he began. “You’re going to start sleeping in our bedroom again. Because I am the only man on this planet who can touch you like this and you’re going to stop being such a brat and taking that for granted.”

You scoffed. You were taking him for granted? Of course, every day you didn’t wake up on your knees for him was probably ‘taking him for granted’.

“Yes?”

You nodded, cheek pressed to the mattress. You didn’t care about winning anymore, you needed to be fucked. You lifted your head to look back at him. “Yeah.”

He pushed his third finger as slowly as he could.

You kept your attention on him, watching as his fingers disappeared inside your ass. As he moved his fingers back and forth, he started to tilt his hips. You were hyperaware of everything, you knew where his cock and fingers were, the wall between your two entrances was thin enough that you could feel it all.

He always thought of you as an insatiable, greedy little thing but even he was surprised when you said you wanted more. You wanted his cock, not his fingers, and he figured you were ready for it because you were soaking his length and the sheets.

As he positioned himself over you again, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and you whimpered. He brought his cock up and spread the fingers inside your asshole to open you up for him. You had never experienced Ransom gentler than when he pressed just the tip of his cock into you. You observed in awe, mouth dropped, panting, desperate, soaking. You knew when you were going to feel him, but you were not prepared at all. His cock was bigger than any plug you had used and you were aching.

He groaned when his fingers were out and all that he could feel was you squeezing the hell out of him. “Fuck. Think you can get on your knees for me?”

You nodded but made no moves to do so. He did instead, lifting your hips, and then grabbing your upper arms to keep you there. You pressed your hips down, swallowing more of his cock, whining and moaning at the painful stretch of him.

“Fuck yourself,” he told you.

You were shuddering, body screaming at the uncomfortable angles you were moving. You pushed your hips up until you felt the head of his cock and settled back down until it felt like it was too much, over and over until he knew that your muscles weren’t capable of continuing.

“Almost there,” he promised, lips at your ear. “Almost taking all of my cock, baby.” He let his hands slide down a little, toward your elbows for leverage, and then he started thrusting. He was careful not to go too deep, listening to the sounds you made because words were not your strong point when he was inside you.

You leaned over a bit, unable to hold yourself up completely. You were hovering over the pillows, his hold on you tight enough that you weren’t worried about falling forward. You were practically choking on a scream when one of his hands moved around you to your clit, immediately feeling lightheaded.

You folded over more and Ransom released your arm to grab your hair. Since you weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up completely, he was yanking on the roots of your hair. Your thighs were quivering because you were using them as your only source of balance, and all of that distracted from the painful stretch of his cock driving into you more and more each time.

Your pleasure was slowly climbing. By the time you were coming, your pussy was dripping onto the sheets, you were sweating, shuddering, gasping for air that you couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And he was only halfway inside you. He shoved two fingers into your cunt and used his grip on your hair to shove your face down on the mattress. All his weight pressed down on you until you were flat on the bed, trapping his arm between you and the mattress.

He left you with some space to work, you rode out your high by fucking yourself on his cock and fingers. You were drowning in the sensations, overwhelmingly full of a man that you knew would eventually drive you crazy.

When your body fell limp, he released your hair and grabbed your hip, guiding you to another devastating orgasm. “You still doing okay, baby?”

For a moment, you could only respond with a moan. His thumb brushed over your clit and you gasped. “Daddy, please, please, please—!”

“You think you deserve it, baby?”

“Please make me come,” you begged.

He waited until you were finishing around his fingers and finally, shoved his cock in completely.

You buried your face in the bed, screaming, sobbing, crying his name. He brought his hand from your hip to your hair, petting and shushing you, and that was all you ever needed from Ransom.

He gave you only seconds before his hips were rolling, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. He paid no mind to you, he simply used your body, no matter how much you were shuddering and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

It was almost immediate that he pulled out after he finished and climbed off the bed to pull you with him. Your legs were shaking, but he held you tight to keep you up. He turned your back to him so he could watch his cum drip out of your ass.

When he turned you back to him, he gathered his cum from the inside of your thighs and ran his hand across your mouth. Fucked out, covered in him, you never looked more beautiful.

“This is your home,” he told you. “If you say it isn’t again, you won’t be able to walk for a very long time. Understood?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”

Ransom tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing and went to the door just to lock it. Was it weird that you thought you might get something out of Linda pounding on the door while her son was absolutely pounding you?

May: the anniversary,

It was Linda and Richard’s anniversary and that meant that everyone living in the house had to celebrate because the Thrombeys were starting to face withdrawals from not receiving enough attention from others.

Joni and Walt had decided to cook dinner that night and it surprisingly did not end in disaster. There were some presents, the family was trying their hand at online shopping and as the days ticked by, more and more packages were showing up every day.

The night was ending with a game of charades, something you and Ransom elected not to take part in beyond watching. The first team was Meg, Walt, and Richard. The second team was Joni, Linda, and Donna, and Jacob was the referee. They needed one, every single game because they were oddly competitive and whenever things got too aggressive, they were given a card, from green to red. Red meant disqualification, you’d only seen it happen twice in all these years, but it was great when it did happen.

You couldn’t help but watch Richard and Linda. They’d been married for so long now, so you didn’t understand why Richard had had his affair when he did. She wasn’t overly young, she had no money, it just didn’t make much sense to you.

You were on Ransom’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room. He had been drinking all night, so you chose not to. You guys were a better team when you were coordinating like that. He was always weird about his parents, you figured that was why he’d been off all day.

“Do you think you could ever forgive someone if they cheated on you?” he asked.

You turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I would murder you.”

He scoffed. “Come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious, Ransom.”

“If I were going to cheat on you, I would have already done it. I meant in a general sense.”

“I don’t think you love someone if you cheat on them,” you reasoned. “So, would I forgive? Maybe, I guess, whatever that even means. But would I stay? Hell no.”

“Right?”

“You talking about your parents?”

“It’s so weird, isn’t it? I mean, not really. Men are men and don’t they all eventually cheat?”

“You are playing with fire having this conversation with me.”

He scoffed. “I just don’t get it, why would she stay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It seems like you all have your, like, comfortable environments. You don’t really want to leave them…at least she gave him that killer black eye.”

“Yeah,” he recalled with a small smile. “But…I don’t know, I don’t completely blame him, either.”

“Ransom,” you warned.

“No, I’m not saying it’s my mom’s fault, but…she doesn’t exactly love him either. Maybe he thought she used to.”

“Maybe she did.”

“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know, if you’re blackmailing someone essentially—”

“She’s not blackmailing him.”

“He has no money,” he insisted. “He’s terrified. She holds it over him constantly.”

“Ransom, right now, choose. Me or money?”

He turned to you. “No hesitation, I would choose you.”

You were almost surprised to hear that, you thought…you had always thought you were Ransom’s second love, honestly.

“What? Were you expecting something else?”

“I don’t know.” You didn’t want to make him think you thought so low of him. It was a pretty vile accusation.

“You do, that’s fine…because I do believe that if we didn’t have money, it would tear us apart.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You love your diamonds and this house. And I like spoiling the hell out of you… I know those are simple things, but to have to work for things? We couldn’t make it.”

“Well, he obviously wasn’t that scared, or he wouldn’t have cheated. That was my point. You’re acting like money is the most important thing, if it was, he wouldn’t have risked it.”

“True. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your cheek against his. “Ransom, baby, you’re jealous of inanimate objects and you once fucked me every day for a week and didn’t let me come because you thought I was talking to my ex.”

“It depends how it started, that’s all I’m saying. People aren’t perfect, you know.”

“I am,” you declared.

He scoffed. “You let me fuck you while you were dating that ex.”

“You coerced me,” you argued. “I was innocently in my own room and you just showed up—”

“So, you’re saying I seduced you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Can we go to bed? I don’t think there are going to be any fistfights tonight.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I know you were looking forward to that.”

“A bit,” you admitted.

“I’ll tell you about the time my mom tackled Joni at my high school graduation.”

You gasped. “I love when you tell me stories.”

Ultimately, things had gone back to normal with you and Ransom. He was sleeping with you more nights than not, he was in his office much less, things seemed to be in a much better place.

June: the affair,

Until June rolled around.

Then all his office shit started up again, the late nights, the insane number of hours. You tried to be understanding, but then he was abandoning you at family dinners and there was the time some moron rear-ended you and you had to call Walt because Joni and Meg weren’t picking up their phones because it was five in the morning, and Ransom wasn’t either because Ransom wasn’t a reliable boyfriend.

He had been apologetic, and you were just relieved that it had been an overall easy situation, so you didn’t hold it against him. Not until you had to borrow his phone to call yours because you had once again misplaced it. You were, once upon a time, a very organized, together person. Then the Thrombeys moved into your home.

You saw dating apps. Dating apps! On his fucking phone. You had no idea how to react, so you just didn’t. You made the mistake of letting everything grow, everything just pile on top of one another until you were at your breaking point.

Linda liked to poke at you and normally, she couldn’t. Because normally, Ransom was around. Because Ransom knew how his mother was and he knew how you were, and he just didn’t want anyone to end up dead.

That changed one morning when you were making pancakes and she came in for her early morning coffee. She asked where Ransom was and that was really the start of it because she did know. She found it hilarious that Ransom had his own office and never let anyone else in. She hated that she wasn’t allowed in but was placated that you weren’t either.

But you told her where he was anyway because you were attempting to be civil. She pointed out how much time he was spending in his office and you pretended it was common, she then asserted that that was how Richard was behaving during his affair.

And honestly, why hadn’t you thought of it before? He had to be having an affair, you always heard him typing in his office. He was clearly on some website, probably some BDSM chatroom, and you were going to fucking kill him.

It all made sense now, last month when he’d asked you if you would forgive cheating. That was just Ransom being Ransom, he was trying to guess your reaction if you ever found out. Well, you hadn’t been exaggerating, you would kill him.

You stormed up to the office and started pounding on the door. The rest of the family was going to hear you, but they were smart enough to know they better just mind their own business in their rooms.

“Ransom!” you yelled after minutes of no answer. Again, you were met with silence and that was when your irritation became fury. “Ransom, I will kick this fucking door down! You know these doors are old and weak and I can do it!”

Long story short, the doors were stronger than you thought, and you could not do it. The low point of your life was probably having to crawl to Meg’s room and ask her to call their super-expensive home doctor because you had done something terrible to your foot.

Ransom showed up three hours later after you had been all wrapped up and the family was fawning over you. You were being forced to sit on the couch and they would not stop asking you if they could get things for you. You were already wearing three different crystals, Walt had made you hot chocolate, and Jacob was checking his horror movie collection for your favorites.

“What the hell happened?” Ransom demanded.

You glared at him. “Where were you?”

“I was out for a walk.”

“And you didn’t take your phone?” Richard pressed. “We were calling you non-stop.”

“I left it up in my office,” he informed, moving to your side. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“She tried to kick down your office door,” Linda answered.

Ransom gave you an incredulous look. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” you retorted. You never argued in front of the family because you and Ransom were a team. Yes, you fought, but you never wanted to give the family insight on the cracks in your relationship because you knew they would exploit them.

“Enough,” Meg cut in. “No arguing, Dr. Fields told her to take it easy.”

“You had to call the doctor?” he questioned. “What did you do?”

“Fracture,” Linda informed, “Not that big of a deal. Please, continue arguing.”

Everyone else glared at her while you and Ransom glared at one another. It was then that Jacob reappeared with one of the Saw movies. Typically.

August: the book,

You had taken to sleeping in Meg’s room with her because Ransom was a demon, but he wouldn’t try to enter her room. Ever. So, you comfortably stashed yourself away there every night and stayed there most mornings until noon. She didn’t mind. You’d gotten her a tv in there, so you watched Netflix a lot.

You had yet to confront Ransom with your accusations because you were scared. This family was obscene, being part of it was insane, every single person here was terrible in their own right. But you liked talking to Meg, you liked gardening with Joni, you liked reading the newspaper with Walt in the mornings and talking about the crime section. Even Jacob wasn’t the worst company, he liked to watch Dateline with you.

Ransom was convinced that you were just mad at him because you fractured your toes and couldn’t do yoga for a while. You were fine with him believing that because then you would have to have the conversation.

It was an odd situation to be in. You were sure he hadn’t physically done anything, but you weren’t sure if that should make you feel better or worse. He was connecting with someone and after your conversation, it was clear that he also believed you couldn’t cheat on someone you love. Given that he’d never said he loved you, you were rightfully concerned.

Did he ever love you?

Did you just spend almost 7 years with someone who was never going to feel that way about you? Did you throw away all those opportunities with someone else? Did you stupidly choose Ransom over your family?

Did you let this happen?

You had said you couldn’t forgive it, but now you understood why Linda did. If you love someone, you just don’t want to lose them. You hope that they don’t betray you, but what about when they do? It’s not easy to just leave.

You still loved Ransom, you always would. You didn’t want to lose any of the relationships you formed with the family, but it was different with Ransom. You didn’t want to, obviously, but you also couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, you couldn’t imagine moving on, you couldn’t imagine being with someone else.

What did that mean?

You weren’t sure about the long-term answer, but short-term, it meant that you were going to pretend. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have dating apps on his phone, he didn’t even have an office as far as you were concerned.

Nothing. Everything was perfect.

Until Jacob’s birthday. You weren’t aware of it before, but unsurprisingly, he was a fucking Leo. You made a mental note to investigate the astrology of certain serial killers Jacob reminded you of, but you would do that with Meg later.

You were helping Walt and Joni cook this time. Apparently, they were the only Thrombeys that knew how to cook and were pleased to have another addition to the small team. It wasn’t a particularly difficult meal, lasagna with garlic bread, but it was Jacob’s favorite.

The plans had been made the week prior, Ransom was going to do one thing for you. Just one, you asked for so little. He would pick up the cake at noon and hide it in the second kitchen. Hide because Jacob wasn’t aware this was happening. He didn’t like to be the center of attention and if he knew this was happening before it was actually happening, he would do anything he could to stop it.

But come 2 PM, three hours after the cake was set to be picked up, you received a call from the bakery. You had let them know that your boyfriend was going to pick it up and you left his name with them and everything, all Ransom needed to do was show up.

The woman on the phone informed you that that didn’t happen, and they were about to close because of pandemic hours. You promised you would be in before she needed to shut the doors and since you were comfortable with your window of time, this was done. Over. First, you were going to yell at Ransom.

You quietly made your way to his office and listened with your ear pressed to the door. You didn’t make a sound until you heard him typing, then you started banging on the door with both hands.

It was seconds later that he answered the door, a confused look on his face over your apparent urgency. He looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and smelled like a lot of alcohol. “What?”

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

“What? What do you need?”

You tried to open the door, but he held it in place.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You were getting into that office because you were going to find out what he was doing, he was not going to continue to lie to you. You kicked his shin and when his leg buckled, you shoved your way in.

“Hey!” He hurriedly shut the door behind you. He did not want anyone else getting in.

It looked like a normal office. There was a full bookshelf of titles that you couldn’t read because your anger was blurring your vision, there was a desk, a laptop, chairs, a bar cart, not a thing out of the ordinary. What the fuck was he doing in here all day?

There was only one logical answer. You finally turned to him, hands on your hips. “Who is she, Ransom?”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been cheating on me and I’m not going to play this game with you! I just want to know who the fuck she is!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“Yes, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been living with your psychotic family since March, dealing with their shit on top of yours, and you are now cheating on me! Please explain to me how anyone else wouldn’t also be out of their mind!”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“Really?! Then what the fuck are you always doing up here?”

He paused at that.

The camel’s back broke. This was officially over. You turned around and rushed to his computer. He only took a second before he realized what you were doing and followed you there.

“I swear to everything above, if you are in some pathetic chatroom—”

He leaned over you just as you reached for the laptop and slammed it shut. “I’m not cheating on you!”

“Then let me see your fucking laptop!” You didn’t care that he had his hands planted on it, you still grabbed the opposite ends and tried to pull it out from under him. It wasn’t a logical plan since he was much stronger than you, but you weren’t necessarily operating on logic.

“You are crazy,” he asserted.

You moved your hands to the top edge of the laptop and threw your entire body back into Ransom. More than anything, it probably shocked him into moving back. Had you known that it was going to work, you probably would have been better about keeping your footing. Since that wasn’t the case, you both ended up on the floor and for a split second, the laptop was only in your hands.

You dove forward, just inches from the door.

Ransom rushed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back down.

You knew he was going to get you under him, you wrapped your arms tight around the laptop and started screaming. Joni or Richard might feel inclined to call the police if they thought the two of you were honestly fighting.

Ransom slammed his hand down on your mouth as he crawled over you, knees pressed to your hips to keep you pinned there. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

You didn’t say a word and you didn’t let your hold on the laptop waver for even a second.

“If I move my hand, you better not scream again,” he warned.

Obviously, you were going to. As soon you could, you yelled, “Call the police, he’s going to kill—!”

Ransom covered your mouth again, eyes wide at you. “You have lost it!”

It was then that you realized you needed to do something. He had the upper hand, and he was going to get the laptop away from you if you did nothing. You started swiping at him with both elbows and knees, never catching anything, but making him nervous enough to back off a little.

Fuck it, he was done trying to be reasonable with you. He moved his hand again, but only to start fighting with you over the laptop again.

“Let it go!” you shrieked.

“You let it go!” he countered. “It’s mine!”

“Not anymore, cheater!”

“I’m not fucking cheating on you!”

“If you have some online BDSM girlfriend, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“What? What the hell goes through your mind!?”

“You’re constantly in here and you won’t let me in, and you never tell me what you’re doing, you never tell anyone else either—”

“Because I hate my family,” he reminded.

“And clearly, you hate me!”

“I don’t hate you, you’re being childish.”

“Tell me her name, Ransom, or so help me—”

“I’m not cheating!”

“I saw the dating apps on your god damn phone!”

“I am not cheating!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

“I’m writing a book!” he hissed.

You froze. He was what?

He kept his voice quiet, “That’s where I was a couple months ago, the meeting that I told you was none of your business. I only had a few chapters, but I got a deal out of it—”

“Get off me.”

He blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so, helping you up, no longer interested in stealing away the laptop.

You held onto it because you weren’t yet sure if you were going to use it to cause severe bodily harm to him. He was writing a book and didn’t tell you? You didn’t know he was interested in writing at all. You didn’t know he could sit down and write more than one entire sentence. He was always moving around, throwing himself into mindless activities.

A book?

You were hurt. Getting a book deal was major and he didn’t tell you he was trying for it, but then he didn’t even tell you that he’d gotten it. He had this huge thing in his life that he kept separate from you and that hurt your feelings.

“That’s was the apps were,” he explained. “I was doing research. Honestly, I’ll let you see the profiles, they’re not even pictures of me. I haven’t spoken to anyone either, it’s just very basic—”

You held the laptop out to him.

He slowly took it back from you, preparing for any other extreme reaction you might have. What he wasn’t expecting was complete silence, he figured you must have been confused by this. It was rather sudden, even for him. “You going to say something?”

You debated for a long while. You wanted to ask why he was pushing you away. You wanted to ask if it was because he didn’t think you were supportive, if he just didn’t want you to know, then you wanted to know why that was. What had you ever done that made him think he couldn’t tell you about this?

“I have to go get Jacob’s cake.”

“Shit!” He ran his hand down his face. “I completely forgot—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Then you were rushing out, ignoring the curious looks from the family on the way.

October: Ransom’s birthday,

It had been seven weeks since you found out about the book and seven weeks since you last had an actual conversation with Ransom. That was your doing purely, and he made the attempts, but you ignored them.

Linda was thrilled. This was different than when you and Ransom were fighting, because fighting indicated that you had the desire to win, he had the desire to win, but then that meant a resolution would follow. If you were ignoring him, what did you want? She hoped it was the end of the road for the two of you.

You weren’t sure. About anything. But you just had to go day by day and listen to yourself. Up to now, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As time went on and you were left to wallow in your hurt feelings, you were wondering if maybe this was the end.

Seven years and he didn’t tell you he was writing a book? That was insane, that was inexcusable. You didn’t get to have any part of your life not completely exposed to Ransom and you were okay with that. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.

Seven years, a nearly dead modeling career, no skills, no aim in life. You had no idea how you would start all over. You had no idea how you would live your life without being Ransom’s girlfriend. It was practically a title, like the queen, and you loved it. You loved him.

But he didn’t tell you about the book! How could you get over that? Well, you could talk to him, but you were not going to do that. You just weren’t ready because you would want to know why and all the answers that were playing out in your mind were not going to make you feel better.

It didn’t matter, or more correctly, it couldn’t matter. Ransom’s birthday was coming up and Linda was trying to fight you on everything.

It was October, the worst of the pandemic was over, wasn’t it? No, you didn’t think so and anyone with two solid IQ points wouldn’t either. She wanted some family over, some of his friends—Megan, you had heard her mention to Richard. You didn’t want a single person in your house, no one outside of the family.

She suggested going to a restaurant then, but you knew Ransom hated when they threw him parties like that.

She wanted him to have a red velvet cake and you knew that Ransom hated red velvet. He preferred lemon, but he told you that you were never allowed to get him a lemon cake because he would eat it all. He was fine with chocolate, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it.

If you weren’t going out, then she wanted catering from his favorite restaurant, and a minimum of 30 people over, the house was big enough for it. It wasn’t even his favorite restaurant, the one she wouldn’t stop talking about, you knew for a fact Ransom did not like 30 people, and the house was not big enough for it.

On top of all of that, she kept asking you what you were going to get him. She just didn’t want to get the same thing. Why would that happen? Why would she get him the same thing as you? You had no idea, but she insisted on knowing. Problem was, you didn’t have an answer to give her. You had no idea what you were going to get Ransom.

Three days before his birthday, Ransom found you on the floor of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to your forehead. It was three in the morning, you had most of the lights off, only your phone and laptop providing light. Even in the dim kitchen, he could tell that you had been crying, eyes puffy and red, tear tracks down your cheeks.

He had been in his office, more writing. He’d only come down for a glass of water, sure that no one else would be awake at such an odd hour. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen you alone, and this naked. Usually, you were surrounded by the family, Joni being the greatest culprit. And since you still weren’t sleeping in the bedroom, he hadn’t seen you in your tiny shorts and bralettes.

He sat down at your side, setting his hand on your thigh. “Hey, is everything okay?”

You tossed the icepack onto the floor. “I never got stress headaches before your family moved in.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

It was silent for several moments after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to approach this topic. It was clear now, in your mind, why he hadn’t told you about the book. “I never listen to you.”

He turned to you, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

You were already crying again, tears rolling down your face. You had felt terrible these past few weeks and you were finally beginning to understand why. “I don’t listen, I’m a terrible listener.”

“No,” he protested. “You’re not a terrible listener—”

“I have no idea what to get you for your birthday. I never know, I never get you a good present.”

“Yes, you do,” he argued. “And you don’t need to get me anything—”

“Of course, I do!” you blurted out. Was he insane? This was his birthday, you couldn’t not get him something for his birthday. “This is why you didn’t tell me about the book, right?”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Because I don’t listen,” you explained. “Why would you tell me about it if I wasn’t even going to listen, right?”

“Baby,” he sighed, “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, honestly—”

“You didn’t tell me you were writing, you didn’t tell me you were trying to get published, and then you didn’t tell me about the book deal.”

“I know…I was going to.”

“But?” you prompted. “How could you not tell me about any of it?”

“I was worried.”

“Why?”

“Because of fucking Harlan. He’s the world’s best mystery author, for whatever fucking reason. I was worried that you wouldn’t think I should do this. I was worried about how it would look. I don’t want to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like the rest of my pathetic family.”

“So, were you just never going to say anything about it?”

“Well…maybe. There’s something else… I wasn’t sure I was going to use my name, so it was completely possible that I could keep you from ever finding out about them. And if you ever got suspicious, maybe publish a few of the others under my real name.”

“Others? What are you talking about?”

“So…my book deal is for, at the very least, three books. In a series. If they do well, I can do others, with the possibility of keeping this series going…whenever I feel inspired to do so.”

“Okay…what’s the series about?”

“A woman.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“A very mean woman,” he clarified. “She’s a black widow, you know, marries rich men, murders them, takes the money…and I’ve sort of been using your name.”

Your eyebrows slowly rose. “You’ve been writing about me?”

“No,” he immediately protested, then sighed. “Okay, a little, but she’s beautiful. I mention that a lot, I promise.”

Yes, you were relieved. But was he completely off the hook? You slapped his shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“Hey,” he held his hand to the skin that you had just smacked. “Ow, maybe don’t hit me just days away from my birthday if you didn’t get me anything.”

“God, Ransom, I was really hurt.”

“I’m sorry about that. Really, I know I rarely ever apologize and sometimes, I don’t mean it, but I mean it now.”

“Well, can I read some of it?”

He smirked. “I don’t know, baby girl, you haven’t been behaving lately. You tried to break into my office, hurt yourself, and then did break into my office to steal my laptop. You thought I was cheating on you.”

“I saw dating apps, Ransom.”

“After we talked about my parents—”

“You lock yourself in your office for, like, 20 hours at a time—”

“And some BDSM chatroom? Because you’re normal in bed?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating, but you should have told me about the book. Which you apologized for, so it just cancels out. Let’s do what we usually do and just pretend it never happened.”

“You told Joni to call the cops,” he reminded.

You shrugged. “I miss Wagner, he probably would have been over here immediately.”

He snorted. “Okay, we both made mistakes, but you’re right.”

With his agreement to move on, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please?”

“I’m not completely convinced yet,” he teased.

Rolling your eyes, you kissed him. “Now?”

“You’re getting closer.”

You scoffed and kissed him again, reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his cock. It didn’t take long to get him hard and as soon as you did, you used your other hand to pull your shorts aside. You broke away from the kiss to watch his face as you slowly slid down his length.

His hands gripped your hips and he nodded. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want.”

You smiled. “Perfect, let’s get it now.”

He snorted. “Wow, now you’re a fucking comedian?”

“Well, you’re an author,” you retorted.

He nodded once. “You have a point. I vaguely remember what I wrote, want me to tell you?”

You nodded. You wanted to hear it in his voice, you were going to demand that he read it to you anyway.

“Her first husband was a writer,” he informed.

You lifted your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be clever?

“He often wrote poetry about how devastatingly beautiful he found her.”

You rolled your eyes a little, turning down to stare at his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but you could still see the muscles through the white material. “How did she kill him?”

“Scared him to death, she is very scary.”

You bit your cheek to prevent a smile.

“His fault, though. He was never healthy, did a few drugs he shouldn’t have. Drank too much, never ate right. He had a weak heart anyway.”

You hummed.

He wrapped his arm around your back and rolled you over onto the floor underneath him. He pulled your thighs apart before placing both hands on the floor for balance. Slowly, he pulled out and drove back in hard.

You gasped his name, arms winding tightly around his torso.

“He loves her skin,” he asserted.

You nodded encouragingly, you wanted him to tell you everything. “Mhm.”

“Loves how soft she is, especially her thighs, and he loves how she bruises.” He was steadily rocking his hips, speaking just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of your body, but quiet enough that you were sure no one else would hear.

You reminded yourself you were downstairs, on the kitchen floor, it was important to remain quiet. Ransom’s family had caught you in a lot of low moments over the years, but this would take the cake. You turned your head, burying your face in the bend of his neck.

“He loves her neck, how perfectly it fits in his hands. He loves her lips, how they look wrapped around him, or when she’s smiling—”

“You wrote that?” you breathed.

“This isn’t some school-book-report shit like what Harlan was publishing.”

“Those weren’t children’s books,” you felt inclined to point out.

“Well, mine have sex.”

You snorted. “You’re going to write about other men fucking me?”

“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”

You laughed briefly, pressing your mouth to his shoulder when you worried you would moan.

“He loves her legs, how tightly they wrap around him.” As he spoke, he lifted your legs one at a time, pressing them to the sides of his body as a cue to hook your ankles together. “He loves her arms, how easily he can pin them above her head.” Again, he did just that and you were forced to lay flat on the floor, clamping your mouth shut to stifle the noises spilling out.

After managing to get both wrists in one hand, he placed his opposite forearm off to your side and set all his weight there. You could feel it in the way he got heavier against your hips, trapping you between him and the floor, controlling every aspect of how he was going to make you come.

He stared down at your face for a moment, watching you struggle to keep your composure as he was fucking into you harder now. He leaned down and your eyes fell shut, he kissed over both eyelids and said, “He loves her eyes, even when she’s looking up at him, demanding something, a new diamond necklace, a car, but won’t actually say the words because she’s so fucking spoiled.”

You smirked and he felt it, and his hips snapped up harshly to get it to stop. It only worked for a moment. You were smug, Ransom was pouring his heart out to you and confessed that he liked that you were spoiled? You would never let him live this down.

“He loves her cheeks,” he started kissing across your face and you couldn’t help but smile, “Especially when she’s doing that.” He stopped to pay special attention to your nose, “And he loves her nose, even though she hates it. And he loves when she pouts,” he lowered his mouth to give you several chaste pecks, until you were pouting because he wouldn’t just kiss you.

With a scoff, he finally let you kiss him back. It didn’t last long before he was on the move again, pressing his lips to your chin and proclaiming the fictional character’s love of that, then your jaw, your clavicle, and once he tore your bralette out of the way, your breasts.

As he continued to move down, he was sliding his cock out by the inch and you were trying to stop him from getting too far, you were desperately pulling at him with your legs, but Ransom was much stronger than you.

“He loves her stomach,” he muttered into your skin as he descended and finally, his cock slipped out. Because of that, he had to let your wrists go but you knew better than to try to move them.

“Ransom, please—”

“And he loves her hips.” As he pulled down your shorts, he kissed the skin he exposed, almost frantically alternating between left and right. Once the shorts were down, he spread your thighs and looked up at you. “And he fucking loves her pussy.”

You let out a strangled, high-pitched sound as he dove down and wrapped his lips around your clit. He stared at you the entire time as he sucked for a few seconds, then flicked his tongue back and forth, only to repeat the pattern until you were crying and squirming, staying in the position he had placed you in.

When he knew you were close, he pulled back. He only set small kisses to your aching center, hands moving up and down your hips, your stomach, your thighs. “He loves how sweet it tastes, he loves how fucking tight it is, how it feels like his cock was made to be inside it—”

“Ransom, please,” you blurted out. Your arms were stinging with the desire to reach down for him, but you knew that would change the path of this entire night. You just needed to be fucked. Simply. Intimately. None of the elaborate shit you both usually tried.

In seconds, he had made his way over you and was inside you again. You wrapped yourself around him, arms and legs, and held onto him tight enough that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get away again.

“He loves every fucking inch of her,” he stated. “Because she’s his, she belongs to him and she’s never going to belong to anyone else.”

You scoffed. “But she kills him?”

“Well, she’s a complex woman.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not complex.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I just want you and this house, and I want all of this shit to be over so we can get rid of your family.”

He kissed you shortly. “That makes two of us, baby.”

There was a difference between loving something about someone and truly being in love with someone. You’d always loved things about Ransom, but it took you about a solid year to confidently admit that you were in love with him. He could say that he loved everything about you, but that was not him finally saying it.

“Does she love him?” you wondered.

He shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks so.”

“Does he love her?” This wasn’t asking for too much. Ransom could hide behind this fictional creation of his and say yes, and you would never ask again. You just wanted to hear it once, that wasn’t unfair.

He considered his answer for a long time, breaking eye contact to look down at where his fingers were hovering over your shoulder. He began to trace shapes there, still contemplating. “Sometimes…she thinks so.”

“But does he?” you pressed.

Again, more silence. He was trying to gauge what he could get away with. He always knew this was going to wear on you eventually, but he never thought it was going to be during one of the times he was inside you. How could you not feel how he felt about you? “I think—”

“Are you fucking serious!?”

You immediately knew whose voice that was—Linda. Shutting your eyes, you let your head rest back on the floor. The headache you had been crying over earlier was returning.

“RICHARD!” She turned out of the kitchen and began storming back to her room. “Richard, wake up! You need to talk to your son! Is there no place in this house anymore that is sacred?!”

Ransom sighed deeply and you looked up at him. “Well, do you want to make you come first before we go upstairs?”

You shrugged. “Okay. Hurry up, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”

November: thanksgiving,

Ransom was on his best behavior, you theorized that was because he didn’t want you to again ask him for more of that insane basic human emotion. Whatever, you could not dwell. There were people dying in this world, and you wanted to waste time crying over your boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but just wouldn’t say a certain word to you?

Well, the answer was yes, but it was Thanksgiving and the Thrombeys had about a million and one weird-ass family traditions. That meant you were short on time to be pouting.

It was a freezing, perfect day. It had snowed all night and the house looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Yes, this was going to be a complicated day with a lot of personalities that were butting heads because everyone had been together for way too long, but you were feeling festive. You wanted to make the best of the day and you planned to force the rest of the family to follow your lead.

The start of the traditions was donating money. You were the one who brought it up as soon as Richard tried to skip down the list. It always started with donating. Harlan would write checks for half a million dollars and let every member choose where they wanted to donate, the past three years you were included in that. Harlan always liked you, probably more than he liked some of his actual family.

“I’m just not sure,” Donna was saying, “We haven’t made much money this year.”

“Are you kidding?” Meg demanded. “Your husband’s publishing company is still seeing sale increases.”

“Because of the death of the author,” Linda pointed out. “Meaning, we should be a lot more frugal. The money will not be coming in the same way that it was.”

“This is not up for debate,” you snapped. “Everyone pick a god damn charity. Harlan insisted on this every single year, and we are going to continue it. Unless you all would like to provoke his ghost to come murder us. He died in this house after all!”

“It’s money,” Ransom pointed out. “We have more than enough, some people don’t have any.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “My son is just trying to get you to have sex with him.”

You glared.

“Mother,” Ransom sighed. “This isn’t a discussion. Just pick your damn charity.”

“Donna, it’s fine,” Walt promised. “Meg’s right, we’ve had a great year. And Y/N is right, Dad always wanted us to do this. I will start with my usual charity, Homes for Our Troops.”

“Fantastic.” You took the check as soon as he handed it over. “Donna?”

“American Cancer Society, of course.” She held it out for you and then looked to Jacob. “I think this year—”

“I have a charity picked,” Jacob informed.

Everyone fell silent. Likely, everyone’s immediate suspicion was Trump’s request for donations since he was still insisting the election was fraudulent. However, no one said anything because no one wanted to be the first victim of Jacob’s impending murder spree.

“Can’t I pick my own?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you answered. “You can, because everyone can pick their own charity.”

“Yeah,” Walt echoed. “Of course.”

He wrote the name down and slid the check across the table to you.

Ransom’s hand tightened on your thigh, a reminder not to let anyone antagonize you this holiday.

“Canines for Disabled Kids,” you read. “Jacob, that’s really great…I didn’t even know that was a charity.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I like the idea that they can have dogs as friends and don’t have to make human friends. Humans are so stupid.” Then he returned all his attention to his phone.

“And we’re back,” Richard muttered.

Donna’s head snapped in his direction.

“Okay,” you interjected. “Joni?”

She chose a foundation interested in ending childhood obesity, received a snide comment from Meg about how even her acts of kindness were vain, and you intervened before it became bigger than that. Meg chose an organization that works to stop childhood prostitution, Linda went for homeless youth, and Richard selected Make-A-Wish Foundation. Walt felt the need to sarcastically commend him for his originality.

“Enough,” you said before Richard could respond. “My dearest Ransom, what have you chosen?”

He smiled at you. “Animal Legal Defense Fund. Their tagline is: all our clients are innocent.”

You nodded. “They are. All animals are innocent.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Can we move on?”

“Okay, mine is—”

“I can’t believe you don’t have a problem that she’s basically brainwashing our son,” Linda interrupted, turning to Richard.

“Linda, please,” Richard sighed.

“My charity,” you spoke loudly, gaining their attention once more, “Is Planned Parenthood.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You want to donate your money to abortions?”

You glared. “That’s not all Planned Parenthood does, but…yes, I do. Babies suck, if a woman doesn’t want to have it, she doesn’t have to.”

Joni nodded. “I agree, completely. I’ve been learning in my group about how we are only placed on this earth to offer up our vibrations to one another. Our obligations do not exceed that. We don’t have to be anything! Not a mother, not a wife—”

“Oh, shut up!” Linda barked.

“Mother, calm down,” Ransom dismissed. “I don’t believe for a second any of you have not either had an abortion or been an accessory to one in the past.”

“I would never!” she gasped, pointing a finger at him. “And you better not ever let her!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that happening. I’ve been thinking about eliminating that possibility, surgically—”

Linda’s mouth dropped.

This was, of course, untrue. Ransom would, first, never sacrifice any part of himself for that reason. Second, the matter had not been discussed yet. You guys weren’t even thinking about marriage, so of course, children weren’t being brought up. But that morning, Ransom woke up in the mood for chaos, and maybe you sort of did, too.

“I wanted a second child,” she told Richard, “You said to stop after Ransom because he was “perfect”.”

“I did say that,” he muttered to himself, a look of pure regret on his face.

You smiled at Ransom. “You are perfect.”

He kissed you, gaining disapproving noises from most of the table.

“I will never be a grandmother!” Linda yelled, burying her hands in her hair and resting her shoulders on the table.

You glanced at Ransom.

He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now that that’s done, let’s start cooking.”

Joni and Meg were currently searching the entire house for the Christmas decorations. They always ended up getting put in the strangest places and since you and Ransom had moved in and not known where they were, you moved basically everything. It was possible that you were going to have to make do with the decorations you and Ransom had been using for the past five years at his house.

You had, however, purchased a lot of lights because the Thrombeys loved their blue lights. Tacky, you wanted the yellow lights and made sure to buy enough that even a single blue light needed to be on that house. Ransom was excitedly awaiting his mother’s reaction to that.

Every year, Richard and Walt would put lights on the house while the dinner was cooking. Ransom should have helped but no one actually thought Ransom would lift a finger, so no one wasted their breath. He was only helping you cook because, as mentioned, he was pretending to be a good boyfriend.

But he was a monster, a true monster that was currently squashing even more of your dreams. “The answer isn’t just no, it’s fuck no.”

You glared. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“You asked if it was a good idea.”

“I think it is.”

“Then why did you ask me at all?”

“Because I thought you would be nice for a second, just a second, Ransom. I’m not asking for a lot.”

“We are not getting Jacob a dog.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate dogs.”

“Well, I hate you,” you hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. This day is tiring enough already—”

“We’ll get him a small one, it doesn’t need to be those huge horses your mother calls dogs. A chihuahua, maybe. A Pomeranian, a dachshund—”

“Absolutely not, we already have Joni here, I don’t want some yappy animal—”

“Ransom!” you whined. “If we get him a dog, he might not become a serial killer.”

“He already is a serial killer, love, these are just the early years when he’s finding himself. The answer is still no.”

“Ugh, fine, can you just make the pie crusts, please?”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Three? For what?”

“Pumpkin, apple, pecan, Ransom. The same things your family has served every single year I’ve been here, and presumably, all the ones before that.”

“Ugh.” He stood at the counter reading the recipe, muttering his disapproval, up until he saw the ingredients on the counter. “What is all of this?”

“Um, you know that recipe in your hand? The final product doesn’t just appear.”

“No, what is all of this…gluten-free flour, oat flour? Where’s the normal flour?”

“That is normal flour, Ransom.”

“No,” he argued. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s normal to some people,” you countered. “And this year, it’s normal to us. Joni went out and bought the groceries. If you wanted something, you could have done it yourself.”

“You wouldn’t let me leave the house! You kept saying I was going to get sick and die.”

“You could have ordered them!”

“You can’t be serious. On top of this dreadful year, you’re trying to make us eat healthy food on Thanksgiving?”

“Ransom, make the pie crusts!”

It was silent for several minutes, probably because you were using the mixer to make the pumpkin filling. As soon as it was off, Ransom was acting like you’d asked him to perform surgery.

“What does toss mean?”

“What?”

“It says to toss the ingredients.”

“Um, like, stir, I guess.”

“You guess or you know?”

“Just fucking stir, Ransom. I make pies all the time.”

He huffed. “No, oh, no. No, this is telling me to touch things with my hands, that’s disgusting and I’m not doing that.”

You turned back, eyes wide. “Ransom!”

“I’m not touching butter with my hands!”

“What is wrong with you!? It’s cooking, you have to use your hands to cook!”

“I don’t like touching butter!”

“How would you know? You’ve never cooked a day in your life!”

“I’m not touching it,” he claimed.

You took a slow breath in and released it while counting to ten. “Then switch with me and make the apple pie filling.”

“Great.” He walked to your counter as you walked to his. “What is this? What’s in this bowl?”

“The pumpkin pie filling. Cover it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s where the apples are.”

His next question came after he pulled out the bag of apples. “These?”

You turned back, blinking. “Yes, Ransom, those are apples.”

“I have to cut them?”

“And peel them.”

“That’s going to take forever.”

“Ransom, I’m about to smack you.”

“This is a lot!” he pointed out. “Why are we the only people cooking?”

“We’re not, not anymore,” you decided. “Get out, you can go help your father and Walt with the Christmas lights.”

“And you’re going to cook alone?”

“I basically already am.” You turned around to walk to the sink to wash your hands. Unlike Ransom, you weren’t making one pie crust at a time, and you would only need to do this once. When you turned around, you knew Ransom was behind you, but you had no idea what he was doing.

You only saw how close he was when you felt something wet and cold against the side of your face. Whatever it was, he dragged it all the way to the opposite cheek. You smelled and tasted the frosting that you had made for the sugar cookies.

He peeled the frosted star-shaped cookie off your skin and ate one of the corners. “Your blood-sugar seemed low, I thought I’d help.”

You tore the cookie out of his hand and shoved it directly in his face.

He scattered back, eyes wide in shock—as if he expected anything less? “What is wrong with you?!”

You grabbed the retractable faucet from the sink and turned the water on.

“Do not!”

It was a warning you ignored. Within seconds, he was slipping along the kitchen floor, rushing back to you to get the faucet out of your hands. As soon as he had it, he turned it on you, and you screamed like a cat about to be thrown in a bathtub.

“Stop it!” you ordered. “You are ruining Thanksgiving!”

“You’re ruining it!”

You elbowed him hard enough that he dropped the faucet, then kicked your heels off to run to the counter with the cookies and frosting.

“Don’t you dare!” He rushed after you and wrestled the cookie out of your hand, ultimately crushing it into crumbs that scattered all over the counter and the floor.

You shoved your opposite hand into one of the bowls of frosting, whipping around to place your hand on his face.

“What the fuck?!” But he leaned down, clearly uninterested in an answer, and pressed his face into your hair.

“My hair?!” you shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”

There were several sets of steps that you both heard, but neither of you wanted to let the other get the upper hand. When the family finally found you, you had slipped, ended up on your ass, and Ransom was holding you down, claiming that you caused too many problems when you were on your feet.

“What the hell is going on?!” Joni questioned.

“Ransom, get off of her!” Meg pushed her way between the two of you, pulling you onto your feet. “Oh, my god, what is going on? Are you okay?”

Well, you were both soaking wet, layered in frosting, furiously trying to get another cookie to throw at the other. Were you okay? Only physically. Mentally, you weren’t sure either one of you was ever on solid ground there.

“Enough!” Linda yelled. “What is this insanity!? We need to be eating in less than an hour and as per usual, you two can’t go five minutes without fighting! That’s it, everyone get out of this kitchen! This is why I cook, this is why I do everything! I’m the only one that can!”

She turned away to open the door to usher everyone out and you took your chance to get some type of retaliation that you had been longing for since before the damn stay-at-home order.

You were able to reach for a cookie before either Meg or Ransom could stop you, and no one had ever dreamed your target would be Linda, so for a detrimental moment, their reactions were nonexistent. Essentially, everyone could only stare in pure horror as they realized the cookie was darting straight for the back of Linda’s head. Which, in your defense, wasn’t your exact intention. You thought her back, not her head…but well, there was a reason you weren’t a professional athlete.

Gasps filled the room as soon as the cookie contacted Linda’s head, then again when it fell to the floor. Linda slowly turned, eyes wide, jaw set, shoulders tense—that must be where Ransom got it.

“This is my house,” you reminded. “You do not get to order me out of my kitchen!”

She looked at Ransom, silently urging him to make his alliance known right then. Before he had to say anything, yelling sounded from outside the house. Walt and Richard had yet to finish the one job they had, everyone figured that was the cause of the disturbance.

Quickly, you all made your way out to the front of the house. Richard had his leg wrapped up in a mess of lights and was hanging from the edge of the house. The same vines of lights were also wound around Walt, who was hanging onto the house for dear life.

“Oh, my god!” Donna yelled. “Oh, my god!”

“Are you serious?” Linda demanded. “There is a pandemic! You guys seriously want to end up in the god damn hospital during a pandemic?”

Joni sighed in utter frustration. “Walt, just hang on. We’ll get Richard down—”

“Oh, my god!” Donna continued, despite the lack of panic coming from literally every other single person present. Even Walt seemed less alarmed than her. She started running to Richard and on any other day, it would have been an effortless plan of action. On this day, that Massachusetts had just seen a hell of a lot of snow, when the pavement was dangerously icy, she fell.

Meg screamed. “Oh, my god, I’m calling Dr. Fields!”

“He’s a doctor!” Joni pointed out. “A physical doctor—he won’t know how to deal with this sheer stupidity unless someone broke a bone!”

Donna, now over her initial shock, was attempting to get up.

“Donna, I think you’re hurt,” Meg said. “Just stay—”

Jacob was cautiously moving closer to her, directing her to stay put when Walt had finally lost his battle with the house. His hands slipped off and he went sliding down the edge of the roof. Richard hit the floor first, eliciting more screams from Meg and Donna, and then Walt followed onto several snow-covered bushes, and everyone lost their minds.

“I’m calling Dr. Fields! I am fucking calling Dr. Fields right now!” Meg repeated, shaking so much she could hardly get the phone out of her pocket, let alone find which one she had placed it in.

Joni began making her way through the snow to check if Richard was okay.”

“Oh, my god!” Donna was still repeating.

“Mom, just stay down,” Jacob said.

“Jesus,” Ransom snapped. “How hard is it to put these god damn lights on this god damn house?” He was following Joni, confident in the theory that his father was simply being dramatic. Walt, on the other hand, might have needed medical attention.

Meg watched her feet as she was walking back inside. “Dr. Fields, we have a serious emergency right now. I think everyone’s dying!”

Ransom and Joni were helping Richard sit up when he turned back to you. “Hey, get inside, you’re wet and going to get sick.”

He had a point, so without argument, you turned to do so. You felt the boniest of hands on your shoulders before you were shoved down face-first into the snow.

That was when Joni started screaming. “Oh, my god, call the police! She’s going to kill her. Meg, call the police!”

Meg ran out of the house and saw what was happening and once again, started to panic. “Dr. Fields, you need to get here immediately!”

Before you even fully processed what had happened, Linda was on top of you turning you onto your back.

“You stole my house!” she screeched.

“Linda!” Richard scolded.

You saw her hands go for your throat—later, everyone would claim she was probably doing something else, she obviously wasn’t going to choke you. You did the only thing you could think to do, you grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.

She toppled over and you made your way on top of her. You weren’t going to hit your boyfriend’s mother, but you did proceed to throw snow in her face until Ransom had gotten you off her.

The grand total of injuries was seven. Yet, the total of injuries that had occurred directly in the incident was five. Donna had a bruised tailbone, Richard had a broken leg, Walt had a sprained wrist, your knee was cut up fairly terribly since you fell on it when Linda pushed you, and Linda had stitches on her cheek because the first time you threw snow at her, there was a huge block of ice that you weren’t aware of. After Richard pointed out that you hadn’t started the altercation, she punched him, and he now had a swollen eye. After Ransom had gotten you inside, Meg, in her state of panic, hadn’t seen the door was shut and walked straight into it, and her nose was broken.

You weren’t sure how this family had managed more disaster with nearly 300 fewer people, but there you were. Ransom had forced you into the shower to get all the frosting out of your hair and to hopefully prevent the cold he suspected you were going to catch given the tiny outfit you were parading around in outside.

He lured you out of the shower with a mug of hot chocolate. Every space heater in the house was gathered in your bedroom and as soon as you were in his reach, Ransom wrapped you up in at least three heavy blankets.

When he sat you down on the bed, he pulled your leg out so he could tend to your knee. You felt like a child with him sat next to you with a first aid kit, too-delicately prodding at your irritated, aching skin. He was babying you.

You didn’t feel guilty for what you had done to Linda, but you did hate that Ransom was in the middle. “I’m s—”

He held his hand up to you. “Don’t.”

“But—”

He turned up to you. “Babe, she attacked you.”

“I…threw a cookie at her.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that was a little crazy.”

“I am sorry,” you huffed. “We said we weren’t going to let them bother us today.”

“You finally told her this was your house. I’ve wanted that since we first moved in. I know what we said, but all in all, I think we gained more than we lost.”

“What did we gain, Ransom?”

“Well, she knows you’re scrappy so she might think twice before pushing you again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”

“Everyone is going to be preoccupied taking care of each other, Joni doting on Meg, my mom basically doing everything for my dad, Walt and Donna being overly protective of one another…”

“So, we can have sex in the kitchen and there’s a higher chance we won’t get caught?”

“That was exactly what I was thinking.”

You shrugged. “If we got Jacob a dog—”

“You know what?” he cut in. “Get out of these blankets, I haven’t spanked you in a long time even though you’ve deserved it about five times over by now.”

He made a show of attempting to get you out of the blankets even though you both knew he wouldn’t do it. You laughed the entire time until Ransom laid himself out on top of you, uncaring about how heavy he was.

“Is everyone okay?”

“They’ll live.”

“Well, I know Meg will—she’s going to get a nose job.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You are just going to have to live vicariously through her.”

“We kinda ruined Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I did not,” he argued. “The turkey is almost done, the pies are in the other oven, also almost done—”

“All three?”

He nodded. “Yep. Jacob, believe it or not, was happy to peel and cut the apples.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear, Ransom.”

“As soon as everyone stops acting like they’re dying, we’ll be able to sit down…well, Donna might not be able to sit down.”

You laughed. “Your family is insane.”

“And clearly, you fit right in.”

“Clearly,” you muttered. Unfortunately.

Christmas Eve:

Sometimes, you wished that you had listened to him when he said this wasn’t happening. Because then you wouldn’t have needed to worry about so many god damn people! It would just be you and Ransom in absolute seclusion, but no. No, you would never have it so easy during this fucking holiday.

How difficult was it to pick up the presents that you had ordered? You picked them out, you organized it all, you had only asked Ransom to drive to a single location and obtain them for you. Why hadn’t he? Because he was sleeping at 2 in the afternoon.

What did you have for Jacob? Not a damn thing. You had no presents for the teenage delinquent you were terrified of. You weren’t family, he was going to store you away in the basement and torture you until he got bored. Ransom probably wouldn’t even realize you had been missing until Jacob placed your body parts all over the house. And three of Meg’s presents were also missing, you knew Linda was going to make another comment.

You would hit her with more ice. After you strangled her son, of course, who was currently hot helping in any way at all.

“Ransom, put your fucking drink down and hand me the tape!”

“Are your fucking hands broken?!”

“I’m holding the box!”

He slammed his drink down on the bedside table and angrily stormed his way to where you were surrounded by boxes, wrapping paper, and a million other things he wasn’t even aware you’d spent money on. This was too much for his family and he was just waiting for you to realize that they were nowhere near worth the effort you constantly put in.

Ransom picked up the tape, tore a piece off, and placed it between where your fingers were resting on the box.

“Thank you so much,” you responded, pure sarcasm.

And god damn, he had had enough of your fucking tone. “You are driving me insane!”

“I’m driving you insane?! Your family has been ruing my whole fucking life since March!”

“I didn’t want them here!”

“Well, I’m a human with actual empathy for others, so I logically knew that that was not an option!”

“You were going to leave my mother out of your precious sanctuary!”

“Because she’s abusive!” You shoved your hands into your hair and shook your head. “I’m done, absolutely done. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Your mother sucks, why is this news to you? I’m so sorry for trying to hold her accountable for her actions. Oh, but of course, every time someone tries to make any of you face the consequences for your actions, you act like it’s a hate crime!”

He glared. “I hate you.”

“I hate you!” you seethed.

“I can’t fucking believe I actually want to do this!” he turned away, scrubbing one of his hands down his face. “You make me so fucking crazy.”

“Do what?” you demanded. “What the hell are you talking about now? What god-awful thing have you decided to do?”

He made his way to the bed, tearing open the drawer to the bedside table on his side. He was muttering quickly under his breath and even if his speech hadn’t been so hurried, it was quiet enough that you had no chance of hearing anything.

It was silent for several moments before he turned back to you and threw something on the bed. He gestured to it then crossed his arms over his chest.

Since your bed was a mess of dark blankets, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be seeing. You stood, carefully stepping your way out of the present-wrapping station you had created and neared the bed. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a tiny black box against the mattress.

You looked back at him, eyes wide, pleading. No…no, that was not happening. He wasn’t actually…

“Marry me.”

“What?!”

He actually seemed surprised by your reaction. He leaned over, snatched the box off the bed, and stomped back to you. “Marry me.”

“You’ve lost it,” you accused. “You’re actually literally insane. You need to be committed!”

“Yes, it’s insane that I want to marry you but for some fucking reason, I do!”

“Oh, my god, Ransom!” You slapped the box out of his hands and that was just too much for him. “I’m not fucking marrying you, you’ve never even told me you love me!”

He hurriedly picked up the box, tossed it back onto the bed, and then grabbed you by your arms. “You’re seriously fucking bringing that up now?”

“What does that even mean?! Yes, I’m bringing it up now. You marry someone when you’re in love with them and since you haven’t said it after seven years, I understandably doubt your feelings for me.”

“You are such a fucking brat.”

“You’re a brat!” you yelled, more exasperated than you’d ever felt. “You’re such a fucking entitled brat! There’s no other way to describe you. You just think I’m going to say yes and give you everything you want when you can’t even say you love me!”

“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”

“Just fucking say it, Ransom! If you love me, just say it!”

“You will not bully me into saying something that I don’t even deem as important.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”

You were speechless, Ransom never talked to you like this. He never brought up the fucked-up aspects of his family that had consequently fucked him up as well.

He finally let you go when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, turning to walk away. You startled when he banged his hand against the wall. “God damn it!”

“Why do you make me say it to you then?” you demanded.

“I don’t know!” he admitted.

Again, you were both silent. You were thinking of the best way to respond, and you certainly couldn’t come up with that, but you knew what you wanted to say. “I’m not marrying you.”

He laughed.

It was a terrifying sound that gave you chills. He was going to kill you, you were 90% sure. As soon as he started walking toward you, you turned away to run to the bathroom, but Ransom had always known that would be your plan.

He effortlessly caught you and dragged you back to the bed. He shoved you down, pinned your arms to the mattress to stop you from hitting him, and slid his hips between your legs to make it impossible to kick him. “You’re going to marry me.”

“You’re going to force me to marry you?”

“I’ll drag you to the fucking courthouse if I have to.”

“The courthouse?!”

“I want to give you a wedding, the obscenely priced, overly dramatic show that I know you want. But if you won’t say yes, you leave me no other option.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do because my answer is no.”

Luckily for him, your outfit was not overly complex. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt because his hand was between your legs for most of dinner that night. You didn’t let him make you come because you were throwing a temper tantrum over the situation with the presents, but he was evidently not deterred.

After he moved your wrists together and kept you held there, he used his free hand to get his pants out of the way. In seconds, he was fully inside you and was offering you no time to adjust.

You realized why when you felt his hands moving over your head. Turning up that way, you saw him fumbling with the box. He was going to put the ring on your finger, and you had the sinking suspicion you might not be able to part with it if you saw it. But no, this was not happening.

You managed to get one of your hands free and yanked on his hair.

He kissed you because he had nothing left to do but bite your lip. Hard. He didn’t even falter when you cried out.

He was the idiot who let you keep your shoes on and you were limited on where you could get your heel. You did yoga, but you weren’t some contortionist. You had one option, and that was stabbing your heel into the side of his ass, and it was completely his own fault.

Finally, he pulled away and was forced to let you on top, which was the only advantage you needed. You smacked the box off the bed. However, now that he wasn’t overly concerned with holding you to the bed, he could pull your hair until you relented and fell back onto the bed.

He rolled over several times until you were both on the very edge, managing to kick your heels off in the process. He never stopped driving his hips into you, knowing that the only advantage he had was how weak you always got for his cock.

You could hear him reaching around blindly on the floor but with each brush of his skin against your clit, you got less scared about the idea that he would get the ring on you. You knew you didn’t want it. You knew you didn’t want to marry him and there was no way in hell you would willingly say yes, but fuck, you wanted to come.

You touched the side of his face and he finally looked back at you.

“Say yes.”

“Fuck you.” You pulled him down, your lips meeting his. There was blood in the kiss and your lip was throbbing, but you couldn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this violently, this angrily. He’d never fucked you like this before. You were no stranger to Ransom being a cruel lover, but there had never been so much pure wrath.

He had located the box, you could tell when his fingernails stopped clicking against the hardwood floor. You were panicking, not fully thinking through your plans, you just knew you needed to be able to reach the box. You threw all your weight at him and he was barely balanced as it was.

Despite his anger, he still had more of a mind than you—probably because he wanted something out of this, he needed to be mindful to get his way. He basically let you throw him on the floor because he worried about the results if he managed to fall on you.

Instead of retaliating any further, you grabbed his hand and brought it down to your center. He needed no further prompt than that, his thumb began to circle your clit as his other hand grabbed your hip and moved you along the length of his cock.

Where was the box? On his chest, he set this there because he was the cockiest fucking asshole in the world. He saw you eyeing it and smirked. “Go ahead, baby, take it, but you know I’ll fucking stop.”

That was unimaginable. Both hands reached for the one he had on your hip. You continued rolling your hips like it was the last time you were ever going to get to, dragging his hand up to your mouth.

“I swear if you fucking bite me,” he warned.

No, you weren’t going to do that. Yet. You choked yourself on his fingers, stifling all the pathetic sounds that were spilling out from you. Ransom simply enjoyed the show, enjoyed you fucking yourself on his cock, enjoyed you staring at him with those smoky, delicate eyes as you sucked on his fingers.

He stopped touching your clit once he felt you coming. He used that hand to hold you up on your knees and thrust his hips into you punishingly. You were dizzy, disastrously satiated and overstimulated. He finished with a shaking moan, a tell that he was trying to be quiet.

It wasn’t late, the family was undoubtedly aware of what was going on.

He turned down, staring at the place you were still connected. Ransom waited until his cum was spilling out of you and then yanked you back down to take his entire length. If there was anything that Ransom did love in this world it was filling you with his cum and watching it slowly pour out.

You only allowed him to do this several times before you finally bit down on his fingers. His hand lifted from your hip and tore your hair back hard enough that you opened your mouth to yell at him. When he could pull his fingers from your mouth, he wrapped that hand around your neck and pulled you flat down, your chest to his, the ring box trapped between you and him, digging painfully into your ribs.

He slammed you into the wall and you brought your legs up to hook around his waist. “Sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to bite you.”

“After I get this ring on you, I’m gonna make you call your parents and tell them we’re engaged. And I’m gonna fuck you and make you call me daddy, just to remind your father how much of a daddy’s girl you used to be.”

“Why call when you could Facetime?”

“Then I’m gonna have you choking on my cock, baby, all they need to see is the ring on your finger.” The hand in your hair wedged its way between you and him and he located your clit once more.

It was too much but you knew Ransom wasn’t going to care. Begging him to stop would just provide him enjoyment and that was the last thing you wanted him to have. He kept his other hand around your neck because he knew you would say something that would annoy the fuck out of him if he let you.

When you were coming, his hips were moving once more and his hand abandoned your clit to move the box. You felt it sliding along your skin until it was gone and then you realized he wasn’t holding your neck anymore. He had your left hand held clutched in his and you felt the cold band he was sliding onto your finger.

You couldn’t do much, you had lost and you knew it. But you could leave a few more marks on him, so you latched your free hand onto his shoulder and dragged your nails down his back, and you bit down on his shoulder harder than you probably should have. He was a fucking animal, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get the ring on you, and once he had, he grabbed your face and shoved you back.

You knew he was trying to get you to look at the ring, but you refused. Your eyes were slammed shut and nothing was going to change that.

He walked you to the bathroom, pulling out to bend you over the counter because he knew you would instinctually lift both hands up to the edge. Once you had, he shoved his cock back inside you and grabbed your jaw to angle your face in the direction of your left hand. “Look at it.”

“Fuck. You!” you growled.

He smacked your ass and even though you shrieked like he was murdering you, you did not open your eyes. He repeated this several times until his own hand was stinging almost unbearably. New plan.

He used his feet to kick your legs apart further and you felt a sharp, sudden slap against your cunt. Your eyes snapped open and a scream tore from your throat. He almost felt bad until he saw your attention on the ring. Was he an ass? Yes. But had he won? Also, yes.

That fucking asshole. His hand dropped to rub over your aching pussy, cock still moving at a painfully fast pace. Ransom was fucking furious and the only way he could take it out on you was by fucking you this way.

You couldn’t say you had any complaints about it. Tomorrow, when you were pretending you couldn’t stand to look at him, you would be bruised and sore everywhere that he had touched you. You would be wet all day thinking about how it happened.

The fucking ring. A huge cushion-cut diamond set in a halo on top of a diamond-encrusted band. It wasn’t simple, it sounded like it, but there was something so beautiful about it. Fuck, you wouldn’t let this ring go unless you were dead. Because he was right. You liked money and diamonds and you were materialistic, and this was from Ransom and you loved everything he gave you. And at the end of it all, even though you were saying no to him, he shoved that ring onto your finger because you were his and that was never going to change.

“Say yes.”

“No.”

“Fine.” He reached for your hand but stopped when he saw you make a fist.

“Try to take this ring from me and I will fucking kill you, Ransom.”

He scoffed. “Great, I’m gonna get my phone to Facetime your parents.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Not yet,” he pointed out. “First, I need to fuck your mouth, but then—”

From outside, the dogs started to bark.

You let your head fall onto the counter and groaned. “I fucking swear, every fucking time we’re fucking—”

He pulled out and rushed from the bathroom.

“Hey!” you called out. “What the hell?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he searched for where he’d thrown his pants. When had he even gotten them off?

“Ransom?”

“Wait there,” he directed and then he dashed out of the room.

“Excuse you!” It wasn’t like you had much of an option, your legs weren’t working yet, and you were sweating and gross, and bruised and your lip was swollen and clearly bitten.

After several moments, he hadn’t come back. What the hell was he up to? You winced and hummed, made any noise that made you feel slightly better, as you tiptoed around the room looking for something to put on. You settled on one of his shirts and slowly, pathetically made your way downstairs. “Ransom?”

No response.

“Hello, anyone?” If someone else was around, you could force them to look for your boyfriend instead of having to do so yourself. But it seemed that you were out of luck on that.

The dogs were still barking like crazy, but why was no one else reacting? And why did Ransom care? He never paid attention to the dogs. You followed the sound of their barking, they had moved from the backyard to the side of the house. Which was odd because they never went there.

The garage? Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Linda complaining about something, being constantly interrupted by Joni, Walt, and Ransom. Okay, again, unusual. He tended to ignore his mother, not argue with her.

His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway. “No, no, this has to stop. I need everyone out of this room.”

“What the hell is going on?” you questioned.

“We don’t want to alarm you,” Donna began, “But—”

“Pretty sure he has drugs,” Meg claimed. “Like, hardcore drugs. Heroin, probably.”

Your eyes widened at him.

He glared. “I don’t have drugs, don’t be ridiculous.”

You gasped, pointing in the direction of the dogs still barking outside. “Those are German Shepherds, they’re drug dogs!”

Meg gasped, nodding at you with wide eyes. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Knock it off,” Linda scolded. “Ransom, show us what you’re hiding right now, or we’ll tear this room apart.”

He rolled his eyes, storming over to the corner of the room where a sheet was laid over something. “Fine, merry fucking Christmas.” He yanked it off one of the old kennels Linda used for her dogs when they were being trained.

There was a long list of things you were suspecting to see. Three sleeping puppies? No, they were nowhere on the list. And then you realized that was why he hadn’t gone to pick up Jacob’s present.

“You got me more puppies?” Linda inquired.

You, along with most of the room, glared at her.

“No,” Ransom snapped. “One is for Jacob and one’s for Meg.”

Both Jacob and Meg excitedly ran to the cage, startling the puppies awake. Much to Ransom’s dismay, the baby talk began without a second thought and the puppies were whining and making those small noises that always irritated him.

One for Jacob. One for Jacob. Then…the third. Oh, god.

He turned to you with a sigh.

“Yes,” you said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You ran across the room, ignoring all your aching limbs and threw yourself into his arms. “And I’ll stop being so mean to you, and if you want to do this at the courthouse, I won’t even be upset because you’re so good to me and I’m awful to you. I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” he assured.

“No,” you protested. “It’s a million times not okay! I’m so sorry.” You pulled back to touch his face. “I’m really, really sorry. But I’m going to be the best wife in the world—”

“What?” Joni cut in.

That was the only thing in the world that could have drawn attention away from the puppies.

“Wife?” Linda repeated.

You checked with Ransom and he nodded. He had been looking forward to this. All you had to do was hold out your hand and Joni and Meg were excitedly shrieking. There hadn’t been a wedding in the family in so long.

“Wow,” Walt said. “Ransom? Engaged, showing commitment? This is the strangest year I’ve ever lived.”

Ransom rolled his eyes.

Before another word could be said, Linda collapsed onto the floor. Richard and Walt were the only ones who felt alarmed at the situation, while everyone else moved in closer to see the puppies.

“Which one is ours?” you wondered.

“Yours,” he corrected. “And the blonde one. She was the least yappy I could find on such short notice.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Where did you go?”

“The pound, obviously.”

“I fucking love you,” you blurted out, grabbing his face to pull him down into a kiss.

Once again, the room echoed with disgusted sounds.

“Which one’s mine?” Meg wondered.

“I couldn’t care less,” he admitted.

“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.

Ransom gave you an expectant look.

“I love you?” you tried.

“Gonna need a lot more than that.” He picked you up and because you knew Ransom wasn’t going to accept any kind of attitude from you for a very long time, you hooked your legs and arms around him and willingly went.

“I’ll take care of your dog until you guys are done being gross!” Meg promised.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @donutloverxo​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​

ransom tags:

@la-cey​

[kurtanaaa]

Hi I love your chatfics please could you give me a list of the new directions’ private stories and who can see them?

YES I CAN AND I CAN ALSO GIVE YOU A KISS ANON I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME THIS

okay this is going under a cut bc i am going to talk A LOT!!!! oh i am so excited jfjdjfjksls

so i’ve made a list of what i thought their private story names were before but that was before i really started writing chatfics regularly so this is a great chance to do it again!!!! lets get into it!! this isn’t gonna include the newbies bc i’m setting this before s4 :/// sorry yall

Brittany: my private story -miss girl doesn’t really like private stories with weird names. they confuse her :/ how is she supposed to know what it is if it’s named something weird like 99.9 virgin radio? that’s just a radio station babe! -everyone in new directions is on her story, along with lord tubbington (she made him a snapchat account), a bunch of vocal adrenaline kids she made friends with by accident, some of the haverbrook kids, a couple warblers (trent. she likes him a lot), and most of the cheerios! lauren zizes and matt are also on it!!! -she has banned all football players except the glee guys from her private story. they don’t get her fun times.

Santana: real lesbian girl shit -she’s a megan thee stallion fan and also gay. not much else to it!!! -again, all the new directions are on it, except occasionally she removes finn just to test his patience. she also has lord tubbington bc she loves her girlfriend. all of the cheerios are on her story and she uses it to make announcements to them sometimes (every time a cheerio leaves the squad she boots them from her story). she does NOT have lauren zizes (still salty over the hallway fight) but she does have matt!!! that’s pretty much it tho she doesn’t like to be too public with her crap

Mercedes: TOTS -bitch loves her tots and she made the story when she and kurt were bitching at each other about them. she won’t change it ever. -EVERYBODY is on cedes' private story bc everyone loves cedes. she’s got lauren, matt, most of the warblers that she met through kurt and blaine, a bunch of haverbrook kids, a good chunk of mckinley that she’s met through classes and such, sunshine corazon, even a couple girls from that all girls acapella group at season two nationals. unique is on her story too!!! she keeps up with everyone!!! -she has ALSO banned most of the football players. it is a point of soreness for the majority of them that they don’t get the privilege of being on her story.

Kurt: i diagnose you with gay -he saw a meme that said this once and laughed his ass off so he had to use it -kurt has a surprising amount of people on his story. he’s got all the warblers who were at dalton when he was, he’s got all the new directions plus lauren and matt, all of the cheerios who were on the squad when he was, a bunch of haverbrook kids, sunshine, a few mckinley students he made friends with, unique for SURE, and even some of the nicer football players. he also has karofsky on his story (bc hes too nice for his own good), sebastian smythe (so he can post pictures of him and blaine and make him jealous) and jesse st. james (so he can bully him directly). for some reason coach sylvester is also on his private story. no one except kurt and sue know why and they’re not revealing their plans to anyone. it is terrifying.

Sam: The Blackbird -he named it after the plane the x-men fly bc he is a Geek Bitch. -anyway sam is ALWAYS posting to his private story. every day there's five new videos of various hudmel shenanigans. he likes to record things just in case he has to leave again and he needs memories of his friends. -since he’s a sweetheart and doesn’t like people to feel left out, he’s got a fair amount of people on his private story. obviously the new directions and lauren (and matt! he met matt through mike and they hit it off), and some students from his old schools. he’s got some warblers, a chunk of the football team, some mckinley students, and lord tubbington. it’s a good time!

Puck: VIP ZONE -this idiot just likes everybody on his private story to know that they are SPECIAL and APPRECIATED if they’re there -he posts the most wack shit on his story bc he’s always getting up to something stupid so he keeps the amount of people on his private story low so he doesn’t get ratted out -so pretty much only the new directions are on it, plus matt and lauren and a couple of the more tolerable football guys. he has jake on his story too!!! (in my glee cinematic universe they met earlier and they’re bros) he also has jeff the warbler on his story for reasons known to no one, not even jeff and puck.

Rachel: 🌟Rachel Berry Exclusive🌟 -do i even need to explain this one. -rachel does NOT understand the concept of a private story. pretty much everybody who has her on snap is on her private story at this point. she does not give a shit she wants everyone to know what she’s up to all the time. this means that practically everyone she’s ever met is on there

Finn: cooler than puck's -this man is always competing against puck a lil i know it. puck thinks its hilarious. -not a lot of people on finn’s story! he’s got the usual suspects plus some football guys, and david warbler and wes warbler. they hang out sometimes!!! he thinks they’re fun dudes. he also has jake on his story bc he’s met him a couple times through puck and he seemed chill. also jesse st. james so finn can make him jealous bc he’s a little shit

Blaine: Sometimes Turnt -his story posts are usually very basic but when this man gets drunk he goes off the RAILS on his story it’s crazy -blaine’s another one whos got pretty much everyone he knows on his private story. all the usual suspects and all the warblers are on there. he doesn’t have jesse, lauren, or matt, but that’s bc he just. doesn’t know them. he’s got a couple people that he made friends with at mckinley on there too!! -cooper is NOT allowed on his private story. he is explicitly banned.

Tina: former goth bitches anonymous -’nuff said. -tina has the BEST stories. everyone wants to be on her private story - except for when she’s having a breakdown and keeps posting screenshots of sad songs on spotify. but the thing is she keeps her private story on LOCKDOWN. she’s got her new directions and lauren and matt, she’s got a couple haverbrook kids, some warblers, a goth guy she met at a hot topic, and sunshine!!! but NO ONE ELSE. everyone else is PROHIBITED. NO FUCKING ENTRY!

Mike: The Fuck -mike didn’t know what to name it :/ so he decided to name it after what he’s thinking every time he posts a video of his friends doing something stupid -everyone loves mike. everyone is on his story. thee whole mf gang. the new directions, lauren, matt, jesse, sunshine, the whole football team, all the cheerios, haverbrook kids, warblers, vocal adrenaline dancers, the works. he doesn’t know how they all wound up there considering he hardly ever posts, but he just keeps making friends with people and they’re like "hey you’re very sexy and hot. want to be on my private story" and of course he has to return the favour!!!

Artie: Artie's Priv -short and simple! -everything he posts is edited RIDICULOUSLY. like with stickers and filters and video edits, the works. everything. -he doesn’t have a lot of people on his private story mostly because he usually uses his public one, so he just doesn’t think to add people to his private story. but he’s got the new directions, he’s got lauren and matt, he’s got a few other mckinley students, and... that’s pretty much it. he just doesn’t think about it!

Quinn: Don't let my Catholic guilt see this -this one. i haven’t gotten to use it in a fic yet. but i will. its also fairly self explanatory -quinn is another gal who keeps this shit shut DOWN. almost nobody gets in bc a lot of her stories are just her RANTING about feminism or her life or SOMETHING that's pissing her off that she needs to vent about -she’s got the new directions, she’s got lauren and matt, she’s got some cheerios, and that is IT. nobody else gets to see this shit.

THIS WAS SO FUCKING FUN TO WRITE OUT OH MY GOD I AM SO PLEASED!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ME THIS I HAVE NOT FELT THIS MUCH EUPHORIA IN A LONG TIME!!!!!

[naruto-littlespace]

Akatsuki Littlespace Headcanons

I could and probably will write more, but I don’t feel like it right now, so here’s this.

Disclaimer 1: Littlespace, in the AU and in real life, is a coping mechanism for everything from everyday stressors to psychological disorders like PTSD. If you sexualize littlespace do not interact with this AU or me, I will block you.

Disclaimer 2: Littlespace in this post is slightly different from in real life, magic-ed up in a similar way to how ninjas are magic-ed up in the Naruto universe. Chakra-using littles actually revert to the size they were when they were their little ages, although they retain any bodily changes since then (little Kakuzu still has stitches, little Deidara would have hand mouths.) The exception of course is Sasori, whose body is manmade and doesn’t change. People also do not necessarily remember their big lives when they slip into littlespace, sometimes becoming confused about where they are and who they’re with. They will sometimes be confused about what time period they’re in as well, believing things to have happened that hadn’t happened yet in their little age but were far in the past in their adult age.

This isn’t how I’m going to treat littlespace w/ Naruto characters all the time on this account btw, it’s just an idea I’ve been playing around with, like the psychological defense of reverting to a childlike state inadvertently triggers a transformation jutsu to match.

Nagato:

Little age pre Yahiko’s death was 6-7, post is 2-4

Started regressing shortly after the formation of the original Akatsuki. She and Yahiko had to do research to figure out why their teenage friend had suddenly turned into a child, but after they learned they took care of him: treated him like a child, bought him kids books from the local thrift shop, tucked him into bed. He called them uncle and auntie.

He would stay in littlespace for a surprisingly long amount of time, for 4-6 hours on days between missions.

After Yahiko’s death he spent many days in a row regressed to age two. Konan scrambled to take care of him and handle her own grieving. After that was over he promised her she wouldn’t have to take care of him again.

Nowadays of course she still takes care of him when he regresses, but he tries to force himself out of it if he begins to.

He still has board books and stuffies, so if he does fully regress he’ll have one of his pein bodies bring them to him.

Being ~3 he doesn’t have the mental capacity to control all the Peins, so they just kind of idle for awhile.

Konan:

Little age is 3-5

Pre modern Akatsuki she didn’t like regressing at all and only did it involuntarily. She would handle it by either walking it off or reading Nagato’s board books by herself.

This continued pretty much until she started becoming friends with Kakuzu, who openly admitted he was a little (he thought she should know, in case it ended up delaying his missions--it was mostly so she would stick up for him to Pein. No, he wasn’t hunting bounties, there’s a perfectly logical explanation--)

So she had a bad day while she and Kakuzu were at the same base and went ‘can you please deal with me for a couple of minutes’ and he was like ‘ofc’ so she sat down in front of him and shrank down to a little girl and started crying. He picked her up and bounced her on his knee until she calmed down. She ended up staying little for a couple of hours because Kakuzu took her out of the office and telling her stories about his childhood while they prepared dinner.

Kisame becomes her caretaker too when the three of them start dating.

Sometimes she starts crying inconsolably about something she won’t talk about other than someone leaving her and something being unfair. Pein showed up during this one time and said he knew what she was talking about and it was none of her cgs’ concern which ofc made them concerned but they haven’t gotten the chance to talk to her about it.

Itachi:

Little age is 2-4 but since her chakra is often very low so she doesn’t always physically become that tiny.

She didn’t regress until after she joined the Akatsuki, but when she did Kisame wasn’t surprised. He reintroduced himself as her babysitter, slipped her a lollipop and took her to a library to pick out some kids books.

Loves to be pampered. Oh god it’s the only time she can relax at all

Wears reading glasses because they can’t get her in to an eye doctor appointment

She’s trans in this au because I say so

Likes playing with weasel and crow toys, esp when her caretaker (usually Kisame, Konan and Kakuzu as well when they’re around) plays the weasel and she’s the crow. She’ll tell stories where they go out to the woods to train or just hang out.

She loves to sit in laps <3

She eats a lot more in littlespace than out so whoever’s feeding her makes lots of food. For her to grow big and strong u know

Kisame:

Little age 0. He is just baby

Being reminded of the bloody mist triggers his littlespace, though he has to be in a bad headspace in the first place. It really does not happen often.

Post Akatsuki the first time he slipped was after he, Kakuzu and Konan started dating. Kakuzu woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of crying and woke Konan up immediately afterwards because holy sh*t there’s a baby in our bed!!

It was Kisame. Kakuzu picked him up and rocked him back to sleep. Konan asked how he was so good with kids and he was like ‘oh I had a baby once.’ She does not ask him to elaborate. Kisame wakes up as an adult the next morning.

They keep a container of powder formula for him if he regresses but won’t get him a pacifier because they’re afraid he’d bite off and choke on the teat. They have bottles but Kakuzu makes the nipples for them out of one of his threads on the spot bc he’d bite through literally everything else with his tiny demon teeth.

Sasori:

Little age is unclear (unlike some of the others, he’s never said it.)

Signs he’s in littlespace: stops talking, stops walking if he can afford it, walks unsteadily and a little bowlegged if he can’t. Stops using ninjutsu and if he’s near a kitchen he might try to eat despite not having a digestive system anymore. Has been known to ask where Granny Chiyo is. The answer is ‘back home.’

Deidara got him a pacifier and a coloring book. He does use them but not when anyone else is watching, not even Deidara.

He is a bit upset when he’s reminded that his body is wooden. He would like to feel things please. But he learns to just enjoy the sensation of squishing a stuffie and his jaw chewing on a paci.

Deidara:

Not actually a little. He just hasn’t gone through sh*t like the rest of the Akatsuki have, and has coping mechanisms for when he is having a bad time.

He caretakes for Konan when her boys aren’t around and for Sasori if he’ll let him.

Hidan told him about littles after Kakuzu regressed in front of him and thought Deidara might need to know because of how much baggage Sasori has (he doesn’t know what it is but he can smell drama)

So he looked out for Sasori becoming a kid and learned instead to look for him not acting like an adult. He walked out of Hiruko and tried to eat in front of him and Deidara had to tell him he couldn’t have a strawberry because it was bad for his health and not because it would probably make his insides mold. It’s weird but Deidara is also weird and he makes it work.

Kakuzu:

Little age is 9-10

Post Akatsuki the first time he regressed was in front of Hidan in the middle of the woods. He didn’t recognize him and immediately tried to run and then beat him up when he chased him. Hidan had to think fast and tell him he was his new neighbor and pretend to be taking him home. The next time he was babysitting.

Sometimes asks where his husband is. The first time Hidan heard this his response was ‘what the f*ck’ and Kakuzu told him that was a bad word.

Enjoyed activities include reading, sparring, and to the surprise of some, hunting. He’s not bad w/ a bow and arrow.

The best way to keep him in/make him feel comfy in littlespace is to make him a meal. U can let him help to the extent that he sets the table or pours the drinks or smth (because he will ask) but take care of the food for him, because he hasn’t had someone else handle that for him in a long time.

Regressing isn’t necessarily a common thing for him to do but he’s one of the only ones whose regression can be triggered by physical pain as well as emotional. He can usually harden his skin to block attacks but if he doesn’t in time he may turn into a ten year old. It actually can surprise an opponent enough for Hidan to be able to take them out.

Hidan:

Not a little either.

Knew about littles bc there was an old man in his village who had ptsd from some long forgotten war and sometimes turned into a six year old.

Caretakes for Kakuzu pretty exclusively, unless Kakuzu is big and taking care of someone else, in which case he’ll help out if he’s feeling nice at the time. Itachi is actually his favorite to take care of because Itachi is a very manageable child.

Obito:

Little age varies wildly from about 1-11. He blocks his physical regression because he regresses Often and doesn’t want to blow his Madara cover.

He has been regressing since p much immediately after he got crushed. Madara was really having none of it and went from patiently waiting for him to become ‘big’ again to pretending it wasn’t happening, forcing Obito back into a uh. ‘’Normal’’’’ headspace

The Tobi act is actually covering his littlespace though when he’s an adult he has no idea how to realistically act like a kid so when he’s actually a kid it’s kind of jarring for all involved

When he’s a baby he just screams. Not really crying in distress but screaming because he can

He’s so eager for attention. Please talk to him! Play toys with him!!! Read a book, eat dango, run around outside, catch bugs, train!!!

Never mentions Kakashi or Rin but sometimes will mention his grandma or Lord Fourth as if he is the current Hokage

[embeanwrites]

can you do an artemis x reader based off of either crush culture by conan gray or scary live by the neighbourhood? sorry if you don’t do song-based fics, i wasn’t sure. thanks anyway!

A/N: I haven’t written a songfic in so long, so I hope I still have that magic! I use to exclusively write them! I hadn’t heard of either of these songs, so I listened to both and went with Scary Love! Also decided to put them both in college bc I’m a sucker for two nerds meeting at a party (Also I’m a simp for cuddles and kisses 

Masterlist

Move to the city with me

Don't wanna be alone

Don't wanna be alone

You're too pretty for me

Baby, I know, it's true, yeah

It was rare Artemis went out with friends, it was even rarer that he followed them to a party. But here he was at some frat house on a Friday. He had ditched his friends five Fridays in a row and he was starting to feel bad about saying no every time. He told himself he just needed to go to one party and then he could say no without feeling guilty. 

He was holding a red solo cup full of a mix between fruit punch and vodka. It was honestly terrible, but by holding it fewer people walked up and asked him if he wanted a drink. He wanted to leave, but he felt bad ditching his friends when they were absolutely wasted. 

The pop music was beginning to give him a headache so he headed outside. He was surprised that the police hadn’t been called to tell them to turn it down. Not technically leaving the party, but he went far enough away that maybe he could just take a break from this mess. Hopefully, his friends would be ready to leave soon. He wasn’t looking forward to babysitting the three of them. 

You look better when you first wake up

Than anybody else I've fucked

Baby, I got good luck with you

I didn't know we'd get so far

And it's only the start

Baby, you got me worried 

Outside a few stragglers were sitting in the grass. Including a couple of people making out. Artemis began walking around the house to find a quiet place to sit.

“Artemis?” He turned towards the voice and saw a girl he recognized from his political sociology class. They were the only two people who regularly talked and answered the professor’s questions. She was highly intelligent and was a decent debater. 

“(Y/n).” He smiled and walked towards her. He sat down next to her. She was sitting in the grass with a book. When he sat down she put her bookmark in and held her book to her chest. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” She looked over at him with a small smile. 

“I didn’t expect to spend my Friday here.” He smiled back at her. Maybe it was the vodka in his system or maybe he was just really happy to be around her. 

Your love is scaring me

No one has ever cared for me

As much as you do, ooh

Yeah, I need you here

Your love is scaring me

No one has ever cared for me

As much as you do, ooh

Yeah, I need you here

“Do you make it a point to come to parties and sit outside to read?” He teased. She laughed and looked at her book.

“No, I have an essay due tomorrow night and I’ve been putting it off.” She sighed. “My friends forced me to come. They’ve asked me every Friday and I’ve finally run out of excuses they’ll buy.” Artemis felt his face heat up. She was smart and socially awkward like him. 

“What’s your essay about?” He gently took the book from her. ‘Controlling Desires’ by Kirk Ormand. He smirked and flipped through the book. 

“It’s supposed to be about comparing translations to direct sources. However, this dude found new fragments and he credited them to Sappho, but it really seems that he made them up. I asked the professor if I could write about that instead. She said yes, but now I’m regretting it.” Artemis watched her nervously pulling and fidgeting with grass. He noted how nervous she seemed. “I know, I’m a huge dork. I just like sociology and classics.” 

“You’re not a dork for enjoying school.” He nudged his shoulder against hers and she smiled at him. “If I wasn’t here I would probably be reading.”

“What would you be reading?” She asked, watching him flip through her book. 

“Well, seeing this book makes me want to re-read Ovid’s Metamorphoses.” She turned towards Artemis and her whole face lit up, she had a nervous smile. 

Ridin' through the city with me

Just watching you glow

I'm in the passenger sea

You're in control

It's on you now, mhm

“This might be a little forward, but do you want to come back to my dorm?” He watched her fiddle with more pieces of grass. He was surprised by how forward she was, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed by her. She had guts.

“My friends, they're wasted and I really need to make sure they get home safe.” He watched her face fall, causing him to wince. “I would really like to, it’s just-”

“It’s okay, really I shouldn’t have asked-”

“(Y/n)! Are you ready?” Artemis looked over to see two girls looking over at the two of them curiously. Before he could say anything else she gently took her book back, gave him a small wave, and left with her friends. 

That was the first girl that’s expressed interest in him since coming to college. He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged his legs. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in her. She is smart, passionate, and cute. He liked the way her eyes lit up when she started talking about something she liked and how she never backed down in class, no matter how many people were against her. He was afraid she wouldn’t like him back, but she just asked him out and he said no. 

“I’m an idiot.” He muttered into his legs. 

You look better every day, I swear

Really, it's a little unfair

Baby, I'm star-struck by you

Didn't know we'd get so far

And it's only the start

Baby, you got me worried (ay)

Artemis managed to wrangle his friends and get them back to their respected dorms before he was standing outside her residence hall. He felt weird knowing where she lived, but she complained about it one time to him in class. It had no AC and the hot water only worked half the time. He had no idea what his next move would be, he didn’t have her phone number and he didn’t even know where her room was. 

“Hey?” He turned around and there she was for the second time. She was still clutching her book from earlier. “What are you doing here?”

“I got my friends home and I thought I’d come by if your offer still stands of course. I understand if you want me to leave.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his feet, failing to notice her small smile. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“I walked to my friends' home, they live a couple halls away.” She looked at him nervously. “Do you want to come up to my room? My roommate went home for the weekend. I have a really cool Greece and Rome translation book you may like.” 

“That sounds like fun.” She walked over to Artemis and gently grabbed his hand, leading him inside the building. 

Your love is scaring me

No one has ever cared for me

As much as you do, ooh

Yeah, I need you here

Your love is scaring me

No one has ever cared for me

As much as you do, ooh

Yeah, I need you here

Her room was nice and orderly except for her desk. She had at least twenty books stacked on the desk, papers filled with notes, and old quizzes. He looked over and saw the last paper they had gotten back from political sociology. 

“You got a 99 out of 100?” He asked, he knew she was good at the class, but he hadn’t realized that she was probably the top student in the class. Even with his paper, he got a 95, but he credited most of that to the fact he didn’t grow up around American politics as she had. He looked over at her, her face was flushed red and she looked embarrassed. 

“Yeah, I put that paper through the wringer. I got a 98 on the first one. My goal is to get a 100 on the last one, but I may have bitten off more than I can chew with my topic. What are you writing about?” 

“Political Polarization found in non-fiction books unrelated to politics. What about you?” She smiled widely.

“Conspiracy theories and political polarization. Lord knows how many crazy videos I’ve had to watch for the paper.” They both laughed. “So, I’m a pretty straightforward person, so hopefully this doesn’t freak you out, but I really like you. I think you’re smart and funny and I would be so mad at myself if I didn’t tell you that before the end of the semester.”

 If we fall apart

Maybe it wasn't meant to be

If we fall apart

Then it was our favorite dream

Ooh, ooh, yeah

“I like you too.” He whispered he could barely believe this was happening. But she was standing in front of him with an unreal smile. He couldn’t help but smile back. “This may be the vodka talking, but do you want to make-” She gave him no chance to finish as she pressed her lips against his. 

Without breaking away they both made it towards her bed, well he assumed it was her bed because she led him to it. Breaking away she jumped up on the twin-sized bed and shyly smiled at him. 

“Lowkey, I have liked you since the beginning of the semester. Do you want to make out and cuddle? It’s kind of late to walk back. Don’t you live across campus? You’ve also been drinking so it’s unsafe anyway to walk back alone and if I walk you back then you’d have to walk me back and it would just be an endless cycle.” She talked so fast Artemis thought he was experiencing whiplash. He smiled and jumped up on the bed next to her. 

“Cuddles and making out sounds like a great plan.” He didn’t think it was possible, but her smile grew as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist as they resumed kissing. 

Your love is therapy

No drug can give me clarity

As much as you do, ooh 

Yeah, I need you here 

Your love is scaring me 

No one has ever cared for me 

As much as you do, ooh 

Artemis woke up the next morning with a minor headache. He tried to move but realized something was on top of him, one of his arms, in particular, felt as if it was on pin and needles. He must have been in this position for a while for his arm to fall asleep. He looked down and saw (y/n).  

She had her head resting on his chest and one of her arms laying on his stomach. His arm that was asleep was pinned underneath her and his other arm was resting next to hers on his stomach. She looked so peaceful. Careful not to wake her, he brushed some of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. She hummed in contentment but didn’t seem to be awake just yet. Artemis could barely believe that all this happened in one night. 

Maybe going to parties with his friends wasn't always a waste of time. 

Yeah, I need you here

Ooh, I need you, babe

Yeah, yeah, I need you, baby

Yeah

I need you

[bronanlynch]

I enjoyed doing this last week so this is. a thing now I guess. click through for roundup of whatever media I’ve been into in the past week (will normally be on thursdays I think bc that’s the day I’m usually free but my schedule this week was weird) (inspired by the tuesday again thing that @girlfriendsofthegalaxy does)

listening: the new Mountain Goats album Getting Into Knives is very fun and full of bops, for a given value of both “fun” and “bops” because it’s The Mountain Goats so it does have that edge of depression but quite a few of the songs are a bit more. cheerful? than a lot of their other stuff, for lack of a better word

favorite track is probably The Rat Queen

listening (podcast edition): this very fun episode of Overinvested tearing apart the new movie adaptation of Rebecca which I have not seen and was not planning on seeing but I do enjoy people smartly analyzing why things aren’t good and also I do love discussions about Gothic romance

reading: The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall is probably a very good book that someone else will enjoy very much, as lots of people whose opinions I generally trust already have enjoyed it. and I possibly will enjoy more if I give it another chance, once I’ve gotten over being disappointed that it wasn’t what I was looking for right now. the premise is neat! the worldbuilding is cool! the characters are interesting! mermaids, witches, and seas are three of my favorite things and also there are pirates, my other fave thing!

the reason I bounced off of it so hard is that I kept seeing it hyped up as a trans/nonbinary book, and then felt kinda let down when I started reading it and realized that the main character whom I’ve seen described as genderqueer is 1) dressing as a guy because someone else suggested it for safety reasons and 2) this was several years before the story starts and this character still refers to herself exclusively (disclaimer that I didn’t read the full thing but. as far as I got and also I skimmed toward the ending) as she and by her feminine birthname. and those things are fine, that’s a valid gender story, nonbinary people can absolutely keep their old pronouns and names and it doesn’t make them any less nonbinary, but the way it was framed in the parts that I read felt to me more like the old classic ‘girl dresses as guy for plot reasons’ thing, which isn’t something I personally wanted to read more of right now, especially not when I went in expecting something that would resonate more with my gender experience

watching: I’ve been rewatching Leverage, since I only ever watched the first season many years ago because that’s what was free on hulu at the time, and the thing that’s really getting to me is how fundamentally hopeful it is. like, yeah, sure, the premise of it is about how capitalism is designed to fuck people over and there is A Lot about specifically health insurance being really really awful. so there are parts of it that are a lil bit too real, but then at the end of the day they always win and punish the rich capitalists and help their victims and it’s just. nice to see that kind of happy ending

the specific episode I’m having lots of thoughts about is the Mile High Job, which is about the team is trying to protect a potential corporate whistleblower from being murdered by her coworker while on an airplane. at first they’re not sure what’s going on because they weren’t expecting two people from the corporation to be on that flight, so they don’t know which person is the one they should be focusing on. one of them is an anxious younger woman and the other is an extremely generic man, and from the moment they decided that the woman was the one they had to protect I was dreading the plot twist of “no actually you just helped her take out her target and you should’ve been protecting the other guy” which would’ve felt just. so mean-spirited and cynical but it’s the kind of thing I expect from media I guess. and then once it was clear that nope, that twist wasn’t going to happen, I expected her to turn around at the end and be like “actually no I’m not gonna testify against the corporation because I’ve realized how dangerous it is.” and I kind of hate that I’ve become so jaded by both media and also the real world that I’m so ready to expect the most cynical option, because I’m not used to stories about how even though the system is corrupt and oppressive and exploitative, people can still help each and they do and sometimes they make things better

playing: got back into playing Dishonored after taking a couple weeks off because I got stuck and frustrated and also kept playing for too long at a time and giving myself headaches. Lady Boyle’s Last Party (which I am going to completely and entirely spoil so if you don’t want that this is your warning) is probably the mission that I have the strongest mixed feelings about. I love the approach to the party, I love the concept of sneaking into a masquerade ball, I love signing the guestbook with your actual legal wanted fugitive name while wearing the mask that you commit all of your crimes in, I love a good fancy party mission I cannot stress that enough it’s the sexiest possible setting

HOWEVER. trying to sneak around upstairs fucking sucks because the ceilings aren’t high enough for there to be places to hide, like convenient hanging lamps or pipes to blink up to. my least favorite room in this entire game is that art gallery because you can get on top of the cases and you think you’re safe because you’re Up but then the guards spot you instantly and sound the alarm and the entire party shuts down and then you let them kill you so that you can go back to your last save

ADDITIONALLY, fuck the nonlethal option for this one. I hate it so much and feel so incredibly gross about choosing it but I also feel extremely not great about tricking her into meeting me alone and then actually assassinating her. the conversation is so uncomfortable that I tried to be like “actually no nevermind” which causes her to think you’re weird and creepy and she has the guards ““throw you out”“ which apparently in Dunwall is just how you say that she’s gonna have the guards murder you. but anyway. she's a shitty rich lady but she doesn't deserve either of the things that could happen to her and she's only a target because she's sleeping w a guy who sucks. she hasn’t done anything! she isn’t actually responsible for what happened to Jessamine or Emily! which works on a narrative level in my opinion because this is the last mission before you go after the lord regent and it’s becoming clear that the loyalists are just using Corvo for their own agenda and don’t actually care about Jessamine. but it’s still unpleasant to be the one enacting it, y’know?

also on a narrative level, I really like the concept of doing a clean hands run except killing each of the actual targets, because I feel like that would be a cool inversion of the trope where the hero kills a bunch of mooks and then refuses to kill the big bad because murder is wrong. on a gameplay level, I’m still gonna do the nonlethal options because I refuse to risk getting the bad ending, and I’m proud of the fact that I haven’t killed anyone since getting out of prison. I do wanna do a high chaos playthrough at some point though just to see how it goes, since I went low chaos last time too

sorry for writing an entire essay about Dishonored but. the funniest thing from that mission is that apparently if you get spotted by one of the maids in the basement where you are not supposed to be (the guards will immediately attack if they see you) instead of raising the alarm she just says “welcome to the party.” love that solidarity.

making: none of my cosplay stuff is at an especially picture-worthy stage and I didn’t get pictures of the pesto I made for dinner last night so there’s not gonna be much that’s interesting here but I did go to Spirit Halloween after Halloween when everything was on clearance and got a bunch of stuff that I’m gonna use for cosplay eventually

writing: soon I will finish the Eddis/Attolia Queen’s Thief fic that’s been rattling around in my brain ever since I finished the last book. hopefully.

[professional-anti]

Chapter Nine: The Circle and the Brotherhood

Okay, we start out a little stressful bc Jace says they’re gonna take the subway back to the Institute and Simon jokes around like “you guys take the subway but you’re demon hunters haha” and this happens:

Jace was scary-calm. His face was expressionless, but something burned at the backs of his eyes.

Um, are we not supposed to be worried about this? Jace should be working on this problem!! Why is he so mad at Simon? Oh, that’s right, he thinks that Simon is competition for Clary. And that’s enough for him to get this angry at Simon. I’m sure everyone can tell why this is unhealthy.

Simon proves to be an actual idiot when they get to the Institute. The Institute is housed in an old church, and for some reason Simon can’t comprehend that old buildings can be used for something else.

“It’s the Institute,” Clary said . . . “I thought it ws a church.” “It’s inside a church.” “Because that’s not confusing.”

This is New York City!! The home of remodeling!!! My aunt’s apartment used to be a house! My brother’s camp used to be an apartment! Things can be other things!! Oh my god!!!

They meet Isabelle in the kitchen, where she’s stress cooking. Oh, I remember this! She sucks at cooking but does it when she’s stressed. It’s actually really cute. I stress cook too! Once I made soup from scratch at 3 AM. (My psychiatrist said, verbatin, “That’s worrisome.”)

But then of course we get the typical annoying thing, where Simon stares at Isabelle “rapt and openmouthed”. I think I speak for most people when I say that someone staring at you with their mouth open is creepy. And weird. When was the last time you looked at someone like that? Hopefully never! Blergh, it’s like the way creepy men stare at you on the street. And then Clary gets jealous of Isabelle. So, that’s fun. Love that girl-on-girl hate. I’ve never felt the urge in my life to hurt a girl bc she was prettier than I am. I can’t imagine feeling that way. Sometimes I’ll say jokingly “she’s so pretty, I’m mad”, but I’ve been trying to cut back on that bc I don’t mean it, it’s something that’s been programmed into me to say. But Clary literally wants to throw the soup over Isabelle’s head. Okay.

There’s a tiny bit of worldbuilding that’s also kind of cute, which is that Isabelle “got the recipe from a water sprite at the Chelsea Market.” Well, most people would just say “Chelsea Market” without that article in front of it, but I still like it. Idk, maybe I’m just a sucker for magical New York. Vampires on the Upper East Side? Give me. Werewolves taking advantage of Central Park? Hell yes! Magicians in Greenwich Village? Duh, sign me up. So, little mentions like this make me happy. The worldbuilding is still shit, but this is some nice stuff.

Jace snarks at Clary for eating all the sandwiches at Dorothea’s, and it’s maddening. Those sandwhiches were the first thing she ate for a whole day! Let women eat their fill without judging them!! Arggghhhh!!!!

For some reason, Jace isn’t sure if they should tell Hodge that the men with Luke were the ones that killed his father. I guess bc he thinks that Hodge won’t let them go out and investigate? Idk. Like, we all know that Hodge is Evil Giles, but Jace doesn’t know that. He tells Isabelle that they’re going to Hodge, but they might not tell him about the men being his father’s killers, and this exchange happens:

[Isabelle] shrugged. “All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?” “No,” said Jace. “Do you think Hodge will want any soup?” “No one wants any soup.” “I want some soup,” Simon said. “No, you don’t,” said Jace. “You just want to sleep with Isabelle.” Simon was appalled. “That is not true.” “How flattering,” Isabelle murmured into the soup, but she was smirking. “Oh, yes it is,” said Jace. “Go ahead and ask her—then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation.” He snapped his fingers. “Hurry up, mundie boy, we’ve got work to do.”

So much. So much. I’m short-circuiting. First of all, it’s so incredibly disrespectful to Isabelle for Jace to talk this way. If I were her, I’d be so uncomfortable. And I know that Jace knows her and her comfort limits, but it’s still disrespectful. Secondly, Jace is so mean. And Clary does call him out for it, but who even knows what she sees in him. He’s so fucking mean. And mean characters are fine. They’re great. But I’m just confused why everybody is falling the fuck in love with Jace. It makes zero sense to me. Jace is set up as this paradigm of a romantic partner and it’s like,,, what??? This Jace???

Clary calls Jace an asshat. An asshat. In our year of the Lord (checks copyright date) 2007. Actually, makes sense. Fandom was Like That. Everyone being vaguely British. I wasn’t technically on the fandom scene for anything back then, but in my fanfiction phase, I did some serious digging into the past. And all this fandom dialect makes sense when you remember that CoB is repurposed HP fanfiction.

Jace claims that he was trying to save Simon from heartbreak bc “Isabelle will cut out his heart and walk all over ti in high-heeled boots. That’s what she does to boys like that.”

Clary APOLOGIZES to Jace for snapping at him. Like, the Jace who was so brutally mean to Simon just now? The Jace who is constantly rude to her? The Jace who talks down to her and is so freaking patronizing? Is she apologizing to that Jace? Mmmmmkay.

Ugh, apparently Maryse, Isabelle’s mom, is usually the cook. So it’s the women who like cooking in this book. Got it. Usually 7 people live here, right? Isabelle, Alec, their brother, their parents, Hodge, and Jace. Two women. Five men. And the only people who cook? The women. Cool, cool, cool. Okay. Got it. Thanks.

Wait, this is weird. Apparently Maryse never taught Isabelle how to cook because, according to Jace:

“Isabelle never wanted to learn. She’s always been first and foremost interested in being a fighter. She comes from a long line of women warriors,” he said, and there was a tinge of pride in his voice. “She’s one of the best Shadowhunters I’ve ever known.”

So, huh. A lot to unpack. Isabelle likes to cook, right? So why wouldn’t she want to learn? And why are cooking and fighting mutually exclusive? There’s so much weird stuff going on here. Clare writes the women as the only ones who cook. I don’t like that because she’s basically saying, “Cooking is something that women do, not men.” And now, because it’s a traditionally feminine thing (which it doesn’t have to be anymore now that most men aren’t out hunting all day), Isabelle doesn’t want to do it. And the narrative accepts that as normal, that women should want to divorce themselves from traditionally feminine things, which in my opinion is still sexism. Except that Isabelle likes to cook. So why wouldn’t she let her mom teach her? Does any of this make sense, you guys?

I AM CONFUSION

For some reason, Clary desperately wants to know if Alec is a better Shadowhunter than Isabelle. Not sure why. Jace replies that Alec has never killed a demon. Interesting. Not sure how that’s possible, but okay. They meet Hodge in the greenhouse, and the prose is truly awful:

Clary exhaled. “It smells like . . .” Springtime, she thought, before the heat comes and crushes the leaves into pulp and withers the petals off the flowers.

Slow down there, Emily Dickinson. Anyhow, Jace tells Hodge about their adventures, except for the fact that the warlocks were the ones who killed his dad. Still not sure why, still don’t really care.

“And [the warlock’s] names were . . .” “Pangborn,” said Jace. “And Blackwell.” Hodge had gone very pale. Against his gray skin the scar along his cheek stood out like a twist of red wire. “It is as I feared,” he said, half to himself. “The Circle is rising again.”

There are so many other quotes like that from HP, but I’m not about to reread all 7 books to find them.

Neither Jace nor Clary knows what the circle is, and Hodge ominously leads them to the library. There’s some annoying, edgy description about the libary. Then Hodge pulls out the Death Eaters’, I mean the Circle’s, manifesto. He reads some creepy stuff from it about swearing his life to the Circle “in order to preserve the purity of the bloodlines of [Elba]”. So, you know, creepy. He explains that he used to be part of a group of Shadowhunters that followed Valentine. They wanted to kill all muggles, ahem, Downworlders when the Downworlders arrived in Elba to sign the Accords. For some worldbuilding reason, they have to be signed every fifteen years.

I’m going to cry. I just can’t. A group of magical supremacists who follow a leader whose name starts with the letter V. Please, someone set me free from this hell. Jace recognizes this story; apparently, this was the Uprising. Somehow the Clave managed to wipe out every mention of the Circle, though. Not sure how. Sounds a little bit like a scary place to live, if the government can just wipe out information like that. A healthy government would say, “This was something terrible that our country did. Nobody forget. We must do better.” But apparently Elba is some sort of fascist hothouse. Also, I’m confused what the point of erasing the Circle was if everyone still remembers the Uprising. Whatever.

Hodge finally admits that he used to be part of the Death Eaters, and even helped write the manifesto. Double bombshell, Clary’s mom used to be in it to.

“My mother would never have belonged to something like that. Some kind of—some kind of hate group.” “It wasn’t—,” Jace began, but Hodge cut him off.”

Okay, tell me what it wasn’t, Jace? It wasn’t a hate group? They wanted to kill all the Downworlders bc they were just so full of love? No, tell me. I’m interested.

Anyway, Hodge triple-bombshells Clary by telling her that Jocie wouldn’t have much choice in the matter bc she was Valentine’s wife. Let’s just ignore the fact that Jocie still is on the hook for being part of a suprmacist organization and end part one. That’s right, guys! Part one is finished, finito, finis. See you on the flip side.

[oakleaves]

more arrogance and assumptions 4 sophia (@book-pirate), bc i love her

LIZ.

“Does this mean we’re in a relationship now?” I ask, teasing him as we walk along the path of the park.

“I would hope so. I would very much like to be.”

“Would you?” I laughed at him, “‘very much like to be.’ So formal.”

“I would,” he says, looking Smitten.

I stop in my tracks and hear myself ask “And what does that entail for you, exactly?”

“What do you mean?” Darcy asks, looking befuddled.

“A relationship. What does that mean? You know?” I drop his hand and walk towards a bench and sit. “There’s so many questions to answer here,” I say mostly to the wind.

“Which questions would you like to clarify?” He asks softly as he takes a seat next to me.

I look at him, considering. I had about a million questions. About how serious this is for him or for us and how we even got here at all. I tense up, out of frustration from the questions that are coming out of questions.

He looked at me, searching my face and brushed his fingers against my hand. I hold his hand and sigh.

DARCY.

“There’s so many thoughts tumbling around in my head right now. About this. About us. What ifs. What if this- us - doesn’t go well?.” She looked at me and let go of my hand. “We fight all the time. Two months ago, you told me everything wrong with me - with us. A month ago, you sweep in and save the day without wanting to be thanked back to England. I come back to England, and now instead of fighting, we flirt. We get along. Now, we’re dating?”  I look at her, and visibly see her frustration.

“I’m going to tell you something, then I’m going to ask you a question” I say, softly. She snaps up, frustration melting.

“Yes?” she seems taken aback at an approach she has often used with me.

“I love you. I very badly told you that two months ago, and that fact has not changed. What has changed is me. You challenged me to rethink everything. Who I am, what I am doing, what I should be doing. I have tried to show you and tell you who I am since you arrived to England. The person I wish to be, any ways. I have tried to tell you for so long just how much I feel for you and about you. I love you. I love the way you challenge me. The ways we challenge each other, and make the other better. I don’t know how you came back into my life, but I try not to question it. I am far too grateful. For this. For us. And now my question: What is it that you feel for me?” she blinks at the question.

LIZ.

What did I feel about him? What a question. I couldn’t find the words to sufficiently express everything I was thinking, or feeling. He loves me. Loves the ways we challenge each other, and make each other better. That he’s trying to catch up too, in a way. Trying to catch up from being so focused on his own interests to giving his whole heart to the betterment of the community, and himself. I see it. I have seen him, how he has changed and how I have changed because of him.  I am overwhelmed by everything he’s said, and dear reader, I do it. I confess my feelings. “I love you.”

“What?” he asks, although his expression clearly tells me that he has heard me perfectly.

“I’ll say it again, if you’d like,” I start, teasing slightly as I catch his hand. I look at him earnestly and hope that this look that he will know it I mean it when I repeat, “I love you.” Then I decided to one-up him and tell him those three words again and I add his whole name for good measure. I thought he smiled before. That was nothing compared to the third round of ‘I love you’ plus whole-name smile that I got. We kissed. Lord, what a kiss. The smile stuck. I kissed it. He had the audacity to laugh. Good god.

DARCY.

[TEXT FROM G.]

SMILEY FACE??? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???!?!!?!! - -- - -- - -- - 

LIZ.

“Ok”, I say suddenly, breaking apart from him, “more questions.”

“Alright.”

“Are we exclusive? What do we call each other?”

“As to exclusive, my answer is yes. I want to exclusively date you, for the foreseeable future. As for your other question, I am not sure if I have a preferred term for a person I’m dating. Girlfriend, I suppose.”

“I don’t much like the boyfriend or girlfriend thing.”

“Do you have a suggestion, then?”

“Partner? Then it could be in crime and in love.” He laughed at that. The nerve.

“Perfect. What crimes are we committing?”

“None, that I know of.” I wrapped my arms around him and smiled. “Well, except one.”

“Oh? What is that?” he asked, teasing, and wrapped me too.

“Love.” I said in mock seriousness. “Gotta watch out for that one.”

“I feel good about love so far,” he said softly.

“Me too.”

DARCY.

[3 MISSED CALLS FROM G.]

I hear her chuckle, softly. I look down at the person beside me in my flat, leaning against my shoulder. I smile. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes I am,” she said, laughing more. I shift towards her, wanting to kiss her mid-laugh.

“Oh?” I managed, before she kissed me.

“You made a face.”

“What?” I said, still focused on the kiss.

“You made a face at your phone,” she explained, “quite an amusing one. I couldn’t help but laugh.” Her expression shifted. “Do I get to know what deserved such a look?”

“My sister.” She looked greatly amused by that.

“And is that all the explanation I’m going to get right now?”

“Yes.” I said, smiling slightly. “For now. However, I do need to text her back. Do you mind?”

“No, I should check in with people too.”

[TEXT TO G.]

Can’t talk now. Much to update on. Call later.

LIZ.

[TEXT TO LONGBOURNE LADIES]

Darcy and I are now dating officially. More details to follow.

- -- - -- - --

So, here’s the thing dear reader. I can no longer call the person I once referred to as merely ‘Darcy’ that name any more. No, friends, he deserves something more then a name born out of annoyance and pettiness. From today forward, and because today marks day one of Official Relationship, he will be Will. No, that is still not his real name. But discussion has illuminated that though he finds last-name calling secretly enduring, he vastly prefers being called by his first name. Furthermore, as this relationship progresses, this might not be as candid as previously documented. You’ll have to fill in some gaps of your own. Write your own fan factions here kiddos. Whatever you need to do. I might not answer all of the questions you may have, especially about things beyond the sphere of merely just Kissing. You know what I mean. Just to satisfy some of you though, we are currently making plans for the weekend. All of it. Together. Make of it what you will.   ________________________________________ LIZ.Hello friends! I’m going to pull a Miranda here and do a ‘Previously in My Life’. Ready? Here goes. Will and I have been Official for a little less then a year now. Yes it is still going well, thank you for asking. I am Denial that my visa is approaching it’s expiration in February of the new year. Have not talked to Will about this yet. I feel like he must know that we have an expiration date, and he knows where I stand on long-distance relationships (I don’t like them). I am reconsidering this stance, lately. And looking for solutions for a longer-term solution. If you have suggestions, hit me with them. I’m not sure “Please, let me stay so I can be with my boyfriend” will work. And now? Now it’s quickly approaching Christmas time. It’s going to be a whole ordeal, apparently. Family Christmas at the Darcy’s are every bit as daunting as we are all want to imagine. Packed with family members that will all be judging the American with short hair and tattoos all while surrounded by a very large sounding family house where it is the norm to be eating Very Expensive foods, and drinking fancy alcohol that is mixed by a renowned mixologist. Hurray? WILL. [TEXT FROM G.] When are you getting here? Aunt C is already asking me and also wondering about my career. Please tell me you and the Partner are both close. Am dying. [TEXT TO G.] This is The Partner answering on behalf of your brother and current driver. He says “Tell her we will be there in 20 minutes”. So reinforcements will be coming in about 20 minutes. Actually, more possibly EXACTLY 20 minutes. Usually Driver is very exact about these things. He also wonders: “What are you typing now?” to which I am not exactly answering. Too amusing not to answer. He is not pleased about this. You may tell him I am merely just texting about how I am looking forward to seeing you again. Which is true. Don’t die yet! Waste of musical talent. We had plans to to start a band!! ;) __________________________ LIZ. Dear reader. He did something quite Remarkable™️ for Christmas. We had exchanged gifts, and I we had both gotten each other something sort of non-serious but also great. As in, I got Will a picture frame that says ‘Crime and Love’ on it, with a quite goofy picture that I snapped in it and he got me a watch because mine had broken and I am chronically Never On Time. Then he pulled out a carefully wrapped package. “I know we said only one, but I had to.” I eyed him suspiciously and unwrapped it. I stared at the title. I could not believe my eyes. It was Pride and Prejudice. A very old looking version of it, at that. I was speechless. “It’s a first addition.” “What.” was the only thing I could muster out loud. In my head the words HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!?!!! were screaming in surround sound.  “I know you’re a fan of her work. I had Mary track it down.” At that point I put down the book carefully and started laughing. Maniacally. He looked at me, alarmed. I couldn’t help it. It was all so strange.  “Have you” I said, trying to control my laughter, “have you read this?” “Not in a long time,” he looked concerned now “why?” And after I continued laughing, he caught my cheek and looked at me. Worry traced everything about him. That look snapped me back. I smiled at him, assuringly. “My love,” he said. It sounded both like a declaration and a question. “Ok. I’m going to say something, then ask you a question.” “Please do.” “I love you. I love that you tracked this down. It’s amazing. It’s perfect, and I don’t even think you know why. Here’s my question: What do you remember about Pride and Prejudice?” “Why?” “Could you answer, please?” “Very well. I don’t recall that much. The two main characters don’t like each other much at first. They’re from different worlds, but it works out in the end. They fall in love.” “Yes.” I nodded, significantly. “I feel like I am missing something.” “Yes!” I said, gesturing wildly at the room as a bit of Crazy started to emerge. He sighed, and caught my hand. “Clue me in please.” “Does it sound familiar?” “What does?” “The book.”  “My love,” he said again, this time a bit exasperated. He wanted me to explain more, I knew this. “This might sound crazy.” “Alright.” “I have long thought that we are the modern Elizabeth and Darcy.” “What?” I’m not even sure if the look was confused, bemused, assuring that I was in fact crazy, or all three.  “The plot and how we worked out. Pride and Prejudice and us. Elizabeth and Darcy. The main characters. They’re us. It’s our story. From fighting, to flirtation, to love. It’s changed a bit, but it’s so much the same. You’ve seen my other copy, right? I’ve got my other copy dog-eared and written in all over for a reason. I’ve been marking it and writing in it practically since we met. It’s crazy similar how it is.” He blinked. He was quiet for what seemed like the longest minute of my life.

“They marry.” “What,” I said, taken aback. “That’s right, isn’t it? They marry?”I looked at him, considering. He was smiling softly and looking at me carefully. “That’s what you have to say after all of that?!” “Answer the question, please.” “Yes.” I say, now the one exasperated. “They marry. Why is that -“ he stopped my question with a kiss. 

[bazookapussy-stankhoe-5000]

BMC Headcanons

I have literally been thinking about this all day so

Christine knows sign language and taught Jeremy and Michael some and now they wont stop signing “i love you” at each other

(Rich doesnt know sign language and thinks theyre pretending to be at a rock concert)

Christine loves Disney and makes references all the time but Rich doesnt understand them bc hes never seen a Disney movie so she makes him watch a bunch of them

(his favorite it “Tangled”)

Michael drinks weed tea bc “I’m a refined stoner”

Rich is a musical buff so he and Christine sing musicals all the time together

Christine is also a history buff and her favorite musical is “Hamilton”

Rich is actually really good at sewing/cooking/etc bc his dad wont do any of that so he had to learn himself

Michael cronches bathbombs

(like if he and Jared existed in the same universe they would bond over cronching bathbombs)

sometimes Jeremy cries himself awake bc he misses his mom

Christine spends her weekends volunteering at the animal shelter and she spends so much time there they keep offering to pay her but she wont let them

Jake is actually really good at school he’s just kind of a ditz

(like he’s a complete math whiz and can recite the entire Constitution w/o hesitation but he forgets things like the role of Juliet in “Romeo and Juliet”)

Michael plays the saxophone

Brooke drinks five cups of tea per day

(during midterms and finals she pours monster into her tea)

Brooke and Michael are really good friends

Jenna has a bunch of hamsters and has dedicated almost her entire room to them

Chloe is a cat person and her parents got her a ragdoll kitten for her eleventh birthday and they are literally inseperable

(she taught it little tricks and everything and it likes walks and baths but it will literally only listen to her)

Brooke is totally more of a dog person and her family owns a chihuahua and a newfie

(they like to sit on her lap specifically chihuahua on top of newfie on top of Brooke)

Rich is a complete nerd and loves things like “Lord of the Rings” and “Harry Potter”

Rich has a bearded dragon named Voltron and he likes to put wings he made himself on it

(Jake thought Voltron was a band)

every Halloween the squip squad gets together to go trick-or-treating and watch “The Nightmare Before Christmas”

(Jake refuses to throw anymore Halloween parties)

despite burning his house down Jake doesn’t care and he and Rich are still best buds

when the squip squad has sleepovers Brooke and Chloe do everyone’s makeup

(the guys get more excited about it than the girls)

Jake wears crop tops

Rich exclusively wears tank tops even in the winter

Rich also almost exclusively listens to 2000s bops and literally prays to Beyonce

Christine’s favorite scents are citrus

Chloe writes faster in cursive than she does in print

Michael has terrible handwriting whether it’s cursive or print

(like to the point that even he cant read it)

Rich and Michael watch anime together (especially “Voltron”)

Rich is terrible at video games without his squip

Jake calls Michael “Mike” even though he initially told him not to

“Michael’s gotten so used to it that he doesn’t care anymore and is actually surprised if he calls him anything else)

Christine and Jenna get really really excited about the holidays and buy everyone gifts

everyone celebrates Hanukkah with Jeremy

Rich absolutely hates eggnog because he only knows about the alcoholic kind that his dad drinks and he’s actually a little scared of it

once Rich becomes friends w/ the rest of the squip squad he celebrates the holidays with them every year

(before he didnt really celebrate bc his home life kind of sucks)

(also after he first celebrates with the rest of the squip squad he lovesthe holidays as much as Christine and Jenna)

without his squip Rich has no idea how to flirt of be in a relationship so he is incredibly awkward

Jake doesnt know how to dab and cant seem to get it right

(like this vine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4Hl6Rx-n_s )

Chloe insists on Brooke carrying her and it’s to the point that she’ll just lift up her arms and Brooke will pick her up

Jenna and Christine are the groups’ moms

Rich and Jake play Wii Sports together

if Michael and Jeremy are playing a game against each other Michael lets Jeremy win sometimes

Jenna runs a blog and is working on starting a project to save the bees

Chloe plays soccer

Brooke sometimes insists that she and Chloe have a movie marathon

(their marathons can span days)

Jenna and Christine are the Platonic Power Couple™ that everyone thinks is dating but really theyre just good friends

(both of them are hella ace)

(Christine is aro/ace and Jenna is an ace lesbian)

the group would go to pride together

(Rich would wear the bi flag as a cape)

(Brooke would paint everyone’s faces w/ their flags)

Jake’s the kind of person that would casually mention he’s not straight and then be surprised that youre surprised

Jake would fist fight anyone who made his friends upset

(except for Rich because Rich would have already fought them)

Rich wants to open a bakery when he’s older

Brooke wears a pan-colored beanie

(even at school bc the teachers dont care enough to tell her to take it off)

Jake has his left ear pierced

Brooke is really good at drawing and runs an art blog

Brooke is very empathetic and acts as the group’s counselor

Mr. Heere’s first name is Greg

(don’t ask why it’s mostly cause he reminds me of Greg from “Steven Universe”)

on father’s day everyone gives Mr. Heere a little gift cause he acts like everyone’s dad

Jenna is a fanfic writer

sometimes the squip squad gets together to play Kahoot

(it gets really competitive and friendships are tested)

Jeremy understands that grades are meaningless in the long run but still gets really stressed when he’s not doing well in school

Michael likes to quote really obscure movies that no one knows

Jake owns a melodica

(he also knows how to play the piano really well)

Michael insists that he and Jeremy take pictures together to put on holiday cards and send them to all their friends

(Jeremy wears a Hanukkah sweater and Michael wears a sweater that says “HO HO HOMO”)

Rich likes to stand on top of things to feel taller

Michael wears light-up heelys

Michael always forgets which is left and right but instead of making Ls with his hands he checks his headphones

Rich believes in leprechauns

(every St. Patrick’s Day he makes Jake go leprechaun hunting with him)

(Jake anticipates it every year and keeps the day free so they can)

Jake is actually really bad at using electronics

Rich insults Jeremy affectionately

(one of his favorite’s is “noodle-boy”)

(at first Jeremy was offended but now he doesnt care)

Jake has owned his jacket for a really long time and it’s falling apart but he refuses to get rid of it

whenever Michael has to say the word “squip” he purposefully mispronounces it (ie squemp)

Rich calls people “godfucker”

the squip squad celebrates the fourth of July and Jeremy’s house because Mr. Heere likes to grill hamburgers and hot dogs for them

(Rich likes to help him cook)

Brooke has two moms

Michael drinks milk straight out of the gallon

Jeremy keeps buying new patches for Michael’s hoodie

Christine has an obsession with button pins so everyone pitches in to buy her a button maker for her birthday

the girls like to go to the Ren Faire

Chloe makes her own incense

Rich has Jake help him make snowmen in the winter because he always makes the bodies too big for him to reach to put its head on

Jenna runs a joke tumblr blog that posts cringey facebook memes

Brooke taught Chloe everything she knows about makeup

Christine stays up late sometimes to surprise her friends with gifts she made

Rich asks Michael to teach him curse words in Spanish

Jenna basically lives in Barnes and Noble

(Christine would but she doesnt have as much spending money so she lives in the library)

Michael likes “Undertale” because it’s got a cool storyline and he adores the animation

(he and Jeremy do voices for it when they play)

Rich bakes cookies for everyone during the holiday season

everyone has gifted Michael a new hoodie at least once but he only ever wears his red one and no one can figure out why

Jenna is in the color guard

after joining the play that one time Brooke found that she actually really likes acting

I am so sorry for such a long post, but feel free to add on if you want

[thatsjustsupergirl]

ur post about fic & racism in the supergirl fandom really got me thinking (especially about my own biases so thank you) but also like, how there’s this incredibly pervasive but subtle new form of racism I haven’t seen b4 in other fandoms? Like on one hand u have this loud condemnation of how racist monel is & how he was a slave owner blabh blah but no corresponding attention given to the existing Black characters. 1/4

I get wlw not wanting to write m/f fic but a lot of the fandom doesn’t reblog (or make) any of the gifsets, they don’t meta for him they don’t call for more screen time for Mehcad. Same for M��gann. SO many posts talking about how awful monel is compare him to Lena and strangely don’t mention the Black female character who also came from an oppressive society to become a hero? And there are like, idk, 4 people? Who write or post wlw fic with M’gann in it? 2/4

Same with Maggie. A huge segment of fandom decided Floriana is white (even tho hollywood clearly won’t cast her in roles for white women) so they use that as an excuse to exclusively stan the very light skinned white wlw. And the way it carries over to the characters, like, okay Flo is white? but Maggie is absolutely treated like a woc in how parts of fandom aggressively ignore her & find ways to demonize her character while overtly supporting lighter skinned characters ¾

And that same part of the fandom doesn’t ever seem to create content for Lucy or Vasquez either. IDK this isn’t something u can probably explore with stats but ur post really got me thinking and it just feels really gross now bc I see all these posts condemning racism but there’s still this extreme perpetuation of privileging white characters at the same time? & I haven’t seen this particular trend in fandom b4 4/4

Oh, anon, this made my day. I have a bunch of notes waiting in a doc to address the whole Mon-El thing with regard to the racist undertones and the rhetoric used by the show to frame his storyline, and I will do my best to write it before the season comes back again, because I genuinely think they tried to aim high and just … missed completely. (But I make no promises because my thesis defense is on Tuesday.)

To your first point re: fandom attitudes – I was surprised in the early half of S2 when so many people came out of the woodwork making posts in the main tag like “wait, why did they get rid of Kara/James??” because, oh right, nobody acted like they cared for almost twelve straight months. If y’all were so okay with this ship, where were you to acknowledge its social significance when it was canon? Where are you now? Why hasn’t there been an outpouring of tweets week after week at the execs and the writers for sidelining an interracial couple in favor of what we’re getting, especially since the storyline literally handwaved away human trafficking and slavery as minor plot points?

Not only that, when there’s unrealized potential for a non-canon ship there is typically an outpouring of fic in response, and while there’s been a statistically significant amount of new Karolsen fic in S2 because it’s pretty easy to top zero percent, the writing there is not keeping pace with any of the other dude-involved pairings. 

And you’re right, anon: it is not possible to prove anything with stats. HOWEVER, thanks to the addition of these new characters for S2, I *am* at the point now where it’s possible to see correlation between character race and fan engagement with different pairing choices. And the bias is there, whether it’s in the het pairings, the femslash, or even the m/m pairings. The whole reason I started tracking fic outputs in the first place was that any attempt to have this conversation last year devolved into yelling and finger-pointing because “you have no proof!” that racial bias is a thing. Except, yanno, all the POC who live with it daily saying that it’s a thing. Well, congratulations y’all: your choices leave digital footprints behind that are pretty easy to follow and chart for everyone to see.

This isn’t actually a new problem, by the way – racism and preferencing of white pairing happens a lot, in almost every fandom. The only difference maybe is that I’ve experimented with quantifying it, which is not something that people usually do when they study fandoms or fan behavior.

It pains me to no end that M’gann has been so overlooked, because her story has just as many dark character beats to it as Lena’s, if not more, plus the added bonus of her sharing a sense of “otherness” with Kara in a way that few other people can. And there is no way the disinterest in that pairing isn’t about race, because there are a whole bunch of ships from S1 between white women who’d never even met each other in canon that have more romantic fics than M’gann/anyone.

And the nonsense about Floriana, which I’ll remind everyone again was started by a white girl, had a demonstrable chilling effect on interest in Sanvers as a pairing. Like. I can actually show that on paper. And you’re absolutely right with what you said above, which bears repeating: Maggie is absolutely treated like a woc in how parts of fandom aggressively ignore her & find ways to demonize her character.

There’s also a treatment of Floriana herself that reminds me uncomfortably of how people went out of their way to demonize Naya Rivera’s personal life whenever she reminded the world she was black instead of just “very tan.” And a lot of the rhetoric people are using to talk about Floriana’s racial heritage is almost verbatim the same as what you’ll find on white supremacist discussion boards about Italian people. I’d love to think this is an accident, but I’ve made some people pretty angry for pointing this out in the past, so I suspect it’s at least partially deliberate.

Lucy was another case that drove me insane, for two reasons:

The vast majority of femslash fans flat-out ignored her as a romantic choice even though there were a whole lot of good reasons to ship her with either Kara or Alex, and a whole lot less negative reasons not to. (And it’s not like Supercat was already dominating the scene before Lucy’s character was introduced. That ship only became popular after the movie Carol came out during the winter hiatus of S1.)

People had the same fight last year about whether or not Lucy counted as a WOC and ultimately insisted that the answer was no. But then people kept on ignoring her anyway like somehow dubiously legal boss/employee relationships, potential treason, and incest were more logical bases for attraction.

Also, to the people who have been like “oh yay we could’ve had Dichen as Maggie, a real WOC” like somehow this would have made the fandom love her more – you’re full of shit. If you mean that, why has there been so little fic about Dichen as Roulette? Like, last year there were a whole bunch of shipfics featuring Livewire. There was Kara/Siobhan. And yet … no dark scenarios of Supergirl/Roulette? No Alex ones? There were even a bucketload of those for each Danvers sister + Max Lord, and this fandom isn’t even that into dudes. You’re telling me no one is interested in this kind of hero/villain dynamic with the Asian chick and somehow that’s not also about race?

tl;dr I suspect that a decent chunk of this problem is the result of subconscious bias, but some of it’s not. And what’s really sad about it is that, for all the talk on Tumblr about representation being important, we’re really doing no better as media producers than Hollywood when it comes to race. If anything, we might actually be doing worse.

[van-goghs-right-ear]

I gotta say something, I live in a rural and predominantly Christian place, I mean there are Amish everywhere and my family even used to be Amish. But I'm not a Christian and I am gay (Not that the two are mutually exclusive). And if I'm being honest, your post almost brought me to tears. Suddenly I felt this overwhelming relief and tension leave my shoulders and I don't quite know why yet, but I just want to say thank you for accepting even if you don't agree. You don't know how much it means.

Hi friend, thanks for reaching out! I’m sorry this is like five days late! I’ve been trying to think of how to answer you without saying something wrong. This is super carefully worded since it’s such a touchy subject, and it’s gonna be REALLY SUPER long (I’M SORRY), but I do hope you’ll read it and come away with a new perspective of Christians. If you have more questions about what I’ve written to you, please, do message me privately and let me help! I’m not trying to shove stuff down your throat either; I’m just explaining stuff, and there’s a lot to this. You are so welcome to do what you wish with the information I’ve provided!

There’s a lot of things that many Christians don’t understand about what it means to love as Jesus loves us and how to spread God’s Word and the Gospel. Now, that doesn’t mean they’re bad people or bad Christians, but that they may just be a little misguided or just don’t quite understand yet. Likewise, there are a lot of things that both Christians and non-Christians alike do not understand about the Bible and how to use Scripture (I sure have a TON to learn yet!).

Before we go on, understand the following, because it is important with where I’m going with this response: GOD AND JESUS = LOVE.

I’m sure you have heard many times the scriptures in the Old Testament that call for those who practice homosexuality (there is a note about the term “practicing homosexuality” below) to be put to death or that it is an abomination. The people who use these scriptures to come against the LGTB community take them out of context and use them in a way that is condemning and hurtful (not what God wants!!!) The first 5 books of the Bible (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, called the Torah in Judaism) contain the 613 laws that God gave to Moses for the Israelites to follow. They contain religious laws (observe the Sabbath, do not worship idols), moral laws (do not murder or steal/honor your family), and ceremonial laws (ritual burnt offerings [aka sacrificing a lamb for Passover or sacrifices for atonement of sins]). The Jews back in Biblical times (as well as today) strive to follow all 613 laws (what a feat to undertake! Though I doubt many do some of the ceremonial ones because sacrificing animals and such is somewhat frowned upon in today’s society, but if you’re curious, I’d say ask a Jewish person about how they were taught to follow God’s 613 Laws because I’m not that well versed in that area). 

However, when Jesus died on the cross to take on our sins upon himself and save us from what we deserve as sinners (death), He fulfilled the Law and made a new covenant with those who believed He is the Messiah/Son of God. Obviously God wants us to follow the good moral laws that He had set in place (aka don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t commit adultery, etc.), but because of the New Covenant, Christians are not required to follow many of the 613 Jewish laws. Jesus tells us the greatest commandments of the New Covenant, and are found in Luke 10:27:  “He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” 

(^^^This is where people get confused! They don’t understand that many of the laws in the Torah were relevant to the time when they were written, as well as many other verses in the Bible [aka how women should be silent in synagogue/church and societal stuff like that] were for social purposes. For example, [forgive me bc i can’t find the verse] somewhere in the New Testament where the apostle Paul writes to one of the early churches, he mentions how women should cover their hair. This is because women’s hair was sexualized in that particular society, and so they should dress modestly, just like women shouldn’t walk around with their boobs/butts out or how men shouldn’t be taking their genitals out in public. Get it? Okay! It’s good to know historical background for a lot of stuff in the Bible, and I’m still learning a lot about it, and admittedly doing some research to fact check myself as I write this so I don’t give you bad info!!)

ANYWAY. So in Leviticus, this particular law that everyone mentions calls for those who practice homosexuality (notice I didn’t say “homosexuals” because the point is to call out the sin, not the person, because sin does not define us) to be put to death. This obviously is not how things are done today (it’s a societal law relevant to the time it was written), and NOWHERE in Scripture does it say that God hates you if you’re gay (that’s an example of how people take that particular verse out of context!!!!! It is NOT true that God hates gay people!!!!) But God’s Word is consistent in the stance He takes on things, as seen in 1 Timothy 1:8-11 (New Testament letter written by the apostle Timothy): 

8 We know that the law is good if one uses it properly. 9 We also know that the law is made not for the righteous but for lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious [irreligious meaning those who refuse God], for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers, 10 for the sexually immoral, for those practicing homosexuality, for slave traders and liars and perjurers—and for whatever else is contrary to the sound doctrine11 that conforms to the gospel concerning the glory of the blessed God, which he entrusted to me.

God sees the practice of homosexuality as one of the things that is considered sexually immoral (which also includes prostitution, sex before marriage [something I’ve been guilty of and forgiven for, I’m not ashamed to admit], adultery, incest, bestiality; basically anything that isn’t sexual relations between a husband and wife only), whether it is in the Old Testament times or the New Testament (because God does not change. He is the same loving and just God and Father as He was, is, and always will be.) But listen, this is not to condemn you or judge you, please know. I’m still just explaining things. I’m getting to my point, I promise. :)

PLEASE NOTE: the term “practice of homosexuality” means engaging in the act of same-sex sexual relations. NOT same-sex attraction. The latter is a result of the Fall of Man (when Adam and Eve were banished from Eden for disobeying God and eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge) and so same-sex attraction is merely a temptation, not the sin itself. It is what those who experience same-sex attraction do with that temptation that determines whether it becomes sin or not.

The next part of this puzzle here can be found in the New Testament when Jesus is doing His teachings. See: Matthew 7:1-5 where Jesus gives his followers this analogy:

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged.2 For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.3 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4 How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

What He means here is that we cannot judge (condemn) others for their sins, since none of us is free of sin (except Jesus). If a brother/sister (in Christ or literal, doesn’t matter ha) has a “speck of dust” aka a sin, how can you condemn them for it when you have a plank (aka a sin as well) of your own? It’s kind of like a “you who has not sinned throw the first stone,” sort of thing. Who are we to judge others’ sins? We can’t. God is the only Judge. The only way to help our brothers with their specks is to repent of our planks and have our hearts right with God.

BUT, here’s where it gets cool. To God, no sin is worse than another. He hates all sin equally, but he loves each of us as if you or I (or anyone else!) were the only human on earth to love, even though we are sinners. He made Man originally as blameless (aka without sin), and the Devil came and introduced sin to the world through the deception of Adam and Eve when they ate of the Tree of Knowledge (known as the Fall of Man). And so, to defeat the Devil and sin, God sent His Son to die and take on all the sins of the world; the ultimate and last sacrifice, all because He loves us so much and wants us to have eternal life through Jesus instead of death (John 3:16-18). 

But remember when Jesus said “Love your neighbor as yourself”? That’s where many Christians go wrong. Scripture instructs us to rebuke sin, but we are to do it in a way that does not condemn. (”Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Jesus Christ” Romans 8:1) We are supposed to love each other as God loves us (the Devil knows our names but calls us by our sins and condemns us, whereas God knows our sins, but calls us by our names!). God wants us all to come to repentance through Jesus (John 14:6) and be freed of the chains of our sins (no matter what they are!!! I am just as guilty of sin as a murderer or a thief or a liar in God’s eyes, but God forgives [and forgets our sins!] and has grace on all of us when we repent, and we are washed clean). A lot of Christians (most notably the ones who picket and shout nasty things at people) don’t understand the “love” part. They don’t get that there is another side to the story: salvation. They don’t get that calling people out by their sins doesn’t do anything to further the Kingdom of God or to bring people closer to Him unless they do it in a loving way (aka not shouting nasty things or saying God hates you, which is bogus anyway...) and explain how people can be saved from the fires of Hell (which is by accepting and believing that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world and died for the atonement of our sins, making a way for us to get to Heaven through Him). Many of these Christians who you see shouting condemnation at people either are misguided or do not understand that they also need to preach about the fact that God loves us so much that He sent Jesus to save us from what we deserve by taking our place. Yes, it is necessary to explain what happens when we sin and do not repent (sin separates us from God and dishonors Him, which is why He hates sin, because He loves us so much and wants us to be in a close relationship with Him), and what the ultimate consequence of our sin without accepting Christ is (spending eternity in Hell, which is and should be terrifying for those who are not in Christ), but it is just as necessary to explain that there is a way out of that punishment by way of God’s grace (there is a verse below from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians at the Church of Ephesus in Greece that connects to this).

All in all (through this hugely long winded response I am so sorry haha), just know that as Christians, we need to love everyone in order to show them the true Jesus. Condemnation and judgement is NOT Jesus. (“There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you—who are you to judge your neighbor?” James 4:12)

But, (last thing I promise) “acceptance” is not the word I would use, because I do not accept the practice of homosexuality (or any other sin!!!!) as an okay thing. BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I (OR GOD!!!!) DO(ES) NOT LOVE YOU OR ANYONE ELSE because who am I, a sinner myself, who is trying my very best (and failing in one way or another, whether it’s an impure thought, or a nasty word, or talking back to my parents, etc.) every day to not sin. That’s where God’s grace comes in. We fail God’s expectations of us every day (Literally the only one who has not failed Him is Jesus…) and with repentance comes grace through Jesus’ sacrifice and His blood, and that’s beautiful because God is choosing to bless us with life and a second chance rather than curse us as our sin deserves (4 But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, 5 made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions [sins]—it is by grace you have been saved. 6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, 7 in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:4-9.) (I hope that paragraph makes sense… It’s not really coming out the way I want but catch me another day with this part and I’ll hopefully have a better way of saying it.). If this paragraph rubs anyone the wrong way, know that sin does not define any of us, Christian or not. So the fact that I do not accept any sin as okay does not mean that I don’t accept you and love you as a person. (yes I know, “but you’ve sinned!” no one’s perfect, I’m trying and I know I fail, so I’m not judging you because that would make me a hypocrite. That’s where the verse above about grace comes in.) 

Okay i’m gonna stop there bc this is like an essay and I’m sorry it’s so long! I’m so glad you liked my post, and I hope you found something in here that speaks to you about the true nature of God and what He wants Christians to really do vs. what the world sees a lot of Christians doing.

I love you, friend!!! I’m not sure if you follow me and if you will actually see this, but I hope you do and choose to message me to talk about this stuff (or literally anything bc my DM’s are always open!) God loves you so much, I want you to know that! Be well!!!

I think I did this right: here’s a link to the post my dear anon is referencing: 

https://van-goghs-right-ear.tumblr.com/post/96374967163/i-am-a-christian