#(was reminded of this because of a convo I just saw)

[hybbat]

I do think a good chunk of the 'cringey atheist' stereotype did come from the fact that, especially americans, regardless of their actual religious status are just casually christian and refer to things through a religious filter and that isn't seen for how overwhelming/obnoxious/frustrating it is. Its absense, such as when writing a story and things like "oh god" or other casual references are remove or replaced, is seen as notable the same way people find the cast being all women or queer being 'abnormal'.

And I think more people, especially here on tumblr, should take a moment from ragging on some kid being "cringey" saying god doesn't exist or making atheist jump around like dancing monkeys to establish they're one of the good respectful ones before they ever even begin to talk about their own thoughts, and examine why so much content just inserts god into a conversation that had nothing to do with religion like it's the expected norm, the same way they examine the invasiveness of casual heteronormativity.

[d3stinyist1red]

Yandere Artist? (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

yan artist who met you in art class, his elective. As soon as he saw you, he could feel his mouth watering, and about to drool. You were the most beautiful person he has ever seen, ever since then you were his muse.

yan artist who draws you ALL the time, his sketchbook filled with realistic drawings of you even though he hasnt even talk to you ONCE.

yan artist who tries to initiate convo with you, but fails due to his immense stuttering issue and how introverted he was.

"ca-can I have a pen-pencil? I lost mine a-at my grandmas g-grav- I mean at like universal- or no! sorry, ill..just ask someone else.." yup he panicked.

yan artist who believes you are the reason he can create art. Every piece he makes, in some way, is inspired by you—whether it’s something u like or something that reminds him of you. All his art, shape or form is related to you.

yan artist who was artistic peices, that are so detailed, it’s eerie. He spends hours, even days, perfecting every tiny feature, all while thinking of you

yan artist who you finally talked to because he seemed like a total loser with zero friends.

"Hey man, I like your drawing!" You said, it was one of those times that he WASNT drawing you, he was instead drawing the cat that is gonna be his and yours kid in the future.

yan artist who jumped, and glared at whoever said that before his eyes softened once he realized it was you. His eyes lit up, you were finally talking to him!

"T-thank you.." He muttered, smiling. "Hey dude, whats your name again? Lets be friends, yeah?"

yan artist who you then became friends with.

yan artist who is extremely possessive of the art he makes of you. No one else is allowed to see these pieces. They are too personal, too intimate. The idea of anyone else looking at his portrayal of you drives him mad with jealousy.

He hides the most intense and obsessive portraits in a locked drawer, mostly drawings of u doing the most diabolically things to him

yan artist who starts showing his drawings of you, first showing u small ones, and then slowly going to show u the more detailed ones. You thought he was a weird mf, but you felt bad bc he had ZERO friends

yan artist who uses his art to express fantasies where you belong to him. He’ll paint scenes of the two of you together—holding hands, embracing, or even living a life where you’re completely devoted to him.

yan artist whose eyes are always on you. He stares at you intensely, observing every tiny detail. He doesn’t care if it makes you uncomfortable—he needs to take in every aspect of your being for his art.

When you catch him staring, he’ll just smile softly and say, “You���re too be-beautiful not to lo-look at. I need to re-remember this moment.” He says with a blush on his face.

yan artist who is ur freaky artist who cant even hold eye contact with you yet thinks hes the alpha

[emilys-bangs]

this is me trying | e.p

Tags: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end, mom!emily, no use of yn, use of petnames

Summary: Emily misses one of Eloise's milestones and tries to deal with it. Requested here.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: my longest fic is officially a momily fic oops...(gimme more momily thoughts please) also I did the convo with Hotch instead of JJ because he's surprisingly easier to write than her :p

Emily was having an okay day. It was her second night away on a case and it was unraveling quickly, quick enough that she thought she’d be home for dinner.

She wasn’t.

Instead, she gets a call from you around Eloise’s bedtime. With the ring comes a twist of guilt in her stomach; she’d promised herself she’d call this time instead of you, but her reminder to set an alarm slipped from her mind, and soon she got swept up in an endless whirlpool of case files and paper trails. Silencing her phone, she pushes her chair back and stands up, her eyes flitting over Reid and JJ’s forms bent over the conference room table. They can handle a few minutes on their own.

Emily slips into an empty office, shuttering the blinds as she accepts the video call before it rings out. Crackly noise comes through and she smiles at the sight of you and Eloise on the plush carpet of her nursery, the little girl already in her pajamas and sitting in the cradle of your crossed legs. Some of the tightness in her chest loosens.

“Hi there,” Emily smiles softly as you hold the camera away from Eloise’s grabby hands, her eyes tracing your faces through the screen, “how are my favorite people in the world doing?” She asks, perching on the edge of the table.

“Good,” you say, smoothing a hand over Eloise’s damp hair. “Sleepy, but someone won’t—”

“Bye-bye!” Eloise interrupts cheerfully—her favorite word as of late.

Emily chuckles, her shoulders slumping at the bell-like tinkle of her daughter’s voice. “But I just saw you, sweet girl. I don’t wanna say bye so soon, do you?”

“Bye,” she repeats.

“Think I should go,” Emily wrinkles her nose at you, the playful gesture pulling a laugh from your toddler.

“Maybe she’s finally starting to learn it’s bedtime,” you say, kissing the top of her head. “We’re starting to feel sleepy, aren’t we, Eloise?” Your voice softens as you trace your finger down the soft bridge of her nose, a trick you and Emily use to soothe her to sleep.

But Eloise stubbornly shakes her head. “Nnn.” She turns her face away, placing two hands on your knee.

Emily smiles at the domestic image, her heart tugging with a need to be home. To join your daughter in the circle of your legs, feel your arms around her waist as you both worked to lull her to sleep. 

She breathes through the ache, forcing herself to smile. “Well, we both know where that came—”

Her playful jab falls away when she sees Eloise stand, her hands still on your knee to hold herself up. Emily holds her breath, waiting for her to topple, but her daughter steps over your leg and walks to the drawers behind you. Her movements are wobbly but she doesn’t fall, babbling bye, bye, bye under her breath as she fiddles with the handle of the drawer at her level.

You don’t give a reaction apart from a guilty twist of your lips. Still, Emily waits for something; surprise, shock, excited laughter. The only thing that happens is an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, resigned and defeated.

Her heart sinks.

“She—” Emily sucks in a breath, her throat dry. “She started walking? When?” She hates how her voice is croaky, how it breaks as her heart picks up its pace.

You guiltily chew on your lip. “Yesterday morning.”

Yesterday morning. She was on the jet by then. Something bitter coats her tongue, digging into her molars; the inside of her cheeks pucker.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

But it’s obvious why you didn’t.

“Emily…”

“Mmamamama,” Eloise comes over again, her small, onesie-covered feet showing up on the screen. She grabs the phone from your limp fingers, her sweet, clueless face reaching the edges of Emily’s phone. “Ma,” she babbles, and Emily forces a smile.

“Mommy’s here, sweetheart.” She says hoarsely. 

Her voice cracks around the blatant lie.

___

They’re on the jet home less than twenty four hours later. It was as happy an outcome as they can possibly hope for; unsub in cuffs, airtight evidence, families reunited with their loved ones.

And yet everyone notices Emily’s mood. 

They notice it but say nothing about it, letting her churn in silence as she bypasses all the seats in the jet to sit in the back. Her go bag is thrown under her chair, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as she looks out the window and toys with her ring.

Takeoff is a blur. The lights dim and she chances a glance at her watch, hopelessly willing the time to go by faster. As she’s turning her head, she spots movement from the corner of her eye.

Hotch sits down across from her. He’s quiet as he places a mug of tea next to her phone, but when he leans back into his seat, she sees the concern—and the question—in his eyes.

“You’re upset.” He says.

If Emily wasn’t feeling so miserable, she might have scoffed. Maybe she could have deflected, or lashed out and told him to leave her alone and wallow in her self loathing. 

But she’s too tired for that. And Hotch has kind eyes; he understands, what she’s feeling, more than anyone.

So Emily finds herself cracking. 

“Eloise. She, uh…she took her first steps two days ago.” Emily says quietly, staring intensely at the mug he’s placed in front of her. The lump forms yet again, the threatening press of tears just behind her eyes. Her own words only make her gut churn. “...And I wasn’t there.” She adds unnecessarily, her voice lowered to a whisper because any louder and she’s sure it’ll break.

Her daughter crossed off a huge milestone. And instead of cheering her on, taking her into her arms and kissing her little cheeks, Emily was off hundreds of miles away, hunting down a pathetic, homicidal man rather than being there for her own child. Emily had promised herself that she’d always be there—for every dance recital, every parent teacher meeting. But she couldn’t even be there for Eloise’s first steps.

She’s just as bad as her mother, prioritizing a job over her own daughter. The thought makes her bite down on her lip, hard. The metallic taste of blood floods her tongue.

“How do you deal with it?” She asks thickly. Emily doesn’t look up at him as she twists her fingers into her necklace, smoothing her thumb over the engraved E and staring intently at the mug he’s placed on top of a coaster—because of course Hotch got a coaster.

The answer she gets is a low, heavy exhale that she feels in her bones. Emily looks up, chancing a glance at him even though she knows her eyes are probably shining under the low lights of the jet.

Hotch swallows, carefully measuring his words before he speaks. “I try to remind myself that I’m making the world a better place for him. Though most of the time it’s a lousy excuse.” His lips press together in a small, bitter, smile. A hand goes through his hair and a few strands flop back into his face; for the first time, Emily sees a rumpled, exhausted single dad rather than her put together Unit Chief. “I guess I try to deal with it by giving Jack 100% of my attention when I’m home. I shut everything out and focus on him, for however many hours I can get. I’d like to think I’m making a difference, but…” He trails off, shrugs. 

Emily’s stomach sinks then. She presses her lips together, fighting against the shine in her eyes that now reflects in Hotch’s. 

There’s no good answer. No way to make herself feel better about it. She knew that, and yet hearing it from him somehow makes it worse. The chain of her necklace tugs sharply against her throat.

“It helps,” he speaks up again, a tinge of sadness to his voice, “knowing that she’s not alone. She’ll always have someone. And no matter what, she’ll always know you love her.” He says gently. Somewhere in the shadowy corners of her mind, she realizes she’s never heard him talk this softly before, at least not to her.

Emily swallows hard. “What if—” Her voice shakes. She snaps her mouth shut, grabs the mug and takes a scorching sip. The chamomile doesn’t register on her taste buds, neither does the sweetness of two Splenda’s. Emily wraps her cold, trembling hands around the mug, looking into it as she forces herself to say the words. “What if she wants me? And if I’m not there…” Her voice grows hoarse again.

She swallows again. Drinks her tea, again. Closes her eyes against the tears, digs a thumb into her wedding ring. “What does that tell your child about you, Hotch? When you’re not there and they need you to be?”

Emily pretends not to hear the crack in her own voice. Hotch pretends, too, as he leans forward on the table. “You’re not a bad mom,” he says quietly. His tone is firm, unwavering. “You care and you’re trying and they’ll know that.”

They. Their combined children, victims of their job. He says it like he’s begging for it to be enough. For his sake and for hers.

Emily tries to believe it. She really, truly does, but she can’t stop the whispers that say it’s not enough.

___

When she walks into your home, the living room is empty.

Emily follows the sound of your voice and Eloise’s, her breaths coming easier as her feet lead her to the nursery. She inhales the scent of home; baby powder and your perfume and the detergent all of your clothes are washed with. Before she lets herself caught up in it—in you—Emily stores her gun in the safe, drops her go bag in the laundry room.

Finally, she stops at Eloise’s nursery. You’re sitting on the floor just like you were yesterday, Eloise again sitting between your crossed legs. There’s a book in her hands that she furrows her brows at, intently studying the colored pages as if she’ll be quizzed on them. 

The sight makes Emily smile.

“Knock knock,” she says softly, briefly scaring you. The tension in your shoulders melts when you see it’s her, a small smile curling your lips as she toes off her boots and walks into the nursery.

“Hi,” you whisper. Eloise finally looks up from her book just as Emily settles next to you on the floor, where she wished she would be just last night.

“Mama!” Her baby squeals, and Emily’s heart constricts, and her vision blurs as she reaches her hands out to carry her into her arms.

“Hi, Eloise,” she whispers. She feels the scrape of tears in the back of her throat and swallows, pressing her lips to her daughter’s soft cheek to stifle them. “I missed you.” Another kiss goes to her other cheek, then one to her forehead. 

Your hand falls to her knee and squeezes; Emily takes a hand off of Eloise’s back, places it over your knuckles. She skates her thumb over your skin, squeezes her daughter with her other hand. 

“I heard my sweet girl started walking.” Emily murmurs, letting go of your hand to smooth Eloise’s hair behind her ears. It’s an adorable mess, the way it springs right back in her face bringing a smile to Emily’s lips. “Can you show Mommy, honey?”

Her dark eyes stare into Emily’s; twin pairs. “Hi,” Eloise mumbles.

“Hi, my love. I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she says, her voice cracking on the last word. Her daughter doesn’t notice, too busy with reaching out to fiddle with her necklace. Emily runs her palms over the soft cotton of her onesie, hugging her close and trying to remind herself that she’s here now. “I’m so proud of you, Eloise. Mommy’s always proud of you, you know?” Tears balance on her lashes as she turns her head again to kiss a soft cheek. “You’re my girl.”

Emily didn’t used to be an easy crier. 

Having a child changed that; she cried at Eloise’s ultrasound, cried at her birth. She cried when her daughter said Mama and when she was running a mild fever of 99.5. Tears were easy to come, at bumps and bruises, at small snippets of her personality that start to form with time, at a singular candle blown on her birthday. Undeniably, her daughter is her Achilles heel. Emily is still trying to deal with that, trying to adjust to having her heart walk around unprotected on tiny, wobbly legs that still don’t know where to go.

Emily doesn’t realize she’s been rocking her daughter back and forth until your arm wraps around her shoulders. The weight of it forces her to go still; when she leans back, she leans back into you.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles. Eloise wriggles in her arms and she lets her go, only for the little girl to plop between both of you. Her small hands fiddle with the badge on her hip; Emily’s eyes dart down to her, a wobbly smile pulling on her lips.

“Em,” you whisper, cupping her chin in your hand. Her gaze meets yours again. “You have nothing to apologize for.” You say quietly. With more tenderness than she deserves, you wipe the wetness under her eye.

Emily shakes her head. “I wasn’t there.” She says, her lip trembling as more of her tears drip onto your palm.

An adamant frown pulls your brows together. “Look at her.” You murmur, both firm and soft as you catch a tear before it falls onto Eloise’s head. Emily does, her heart clenching when she finds Eloise’s chin already tipped up, their eyes clashing in identical shades of brown. “She’s just happy you’re home, baby. We both are.”

“But—”

“Mama cry?” Eloise’s sweet voice pipes up.

The palpable sadness in it breaks Emily’s heart. Eloise frowns fiercely as she shoves her small palms into Emily’s knee, steadying herself before standing on her own and taking two steps to reach her mother. 

Pride flares in her chest. Eloise stands on her tiptoes, her small hands falling on her mother’s face; Emily’s hands go to her waist, steadying her. “Mama cry?” Her baby asks again, her eyes far too serious for a just turned one-year-old.

Emily smiles and this time it’s more genuine. “I’m okay, sweet girl.” She lifts a small fist off her cheek and brings it to her lips. “I love you.”

“Wuv.”

“You tell her, Ellie.” You lean against Emily’s side, your hand going to her cheek to wipe the remaining tears. Eloise’s hand joins yours and Emily laughs, shaky and wet even though your daughter is being none too careful. “That’s what we like to hear,” you murmur, tucking Emily’s hair behind her ear. Eloise falls into her lap and she instinctively holds her, her hands secure around her body even though she doesn’t break eye contact with you.

“Listen to me. You’re here now. That’s what matters, okay? It could’ve happened at any time—hell, I could’ve been at work when it happened. This is not on you.” You say firmly, your voice almost scolding. But your hands on her face are soft, cradling her cheeks with gentle care; the pad of your thumb skims absently over her jaw.

Emily’s lips twitch. Your words go through one ear and out the other; nothing against you, but she’s never relied on them for comfort. Instead she leans forward and presses her forehead to yours, closing her eyes as your noses bump together. Her shoulders slump, her body relaxing when Eloise presses her cheek to her chest.

“I love you.” She says, soft, pressing the statement into your lips.

“I love you too.”

“Wuv.” Eloise joins in.

You and Emily both laugh as you look down at her, a familiar warmth returning to Emily’s chest at being home, with her family. She lifts her daughter back into her arms and kisses her until she giggles, until the sound of her laughter drowns out Emily’s thoughts. She’s not sure if she trusts your words, trusts that your love and Eloise’s won’t simmer to resentment when this situation is inevitably repeated in an endless cycle.

But for now, she’ll believe them. Believe you.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

[itsnesss]

𝐈𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | ollie bearman

bf!ollie who holds your hand while walking through the rainy streets of London, always pulling you close when a car splashes by just to keep you dry — “You know I’d rather get soaked than you.”

bf!ollie who memorizes your coffee order down to the tiniest detail and surprises you with it on random afternoons just to see you smile — “Oat milk and two pumps of vanilla, right? Don’t say I never listen.”

bf!ollie who wraps you in his hoodie or coat the second he feels a breeze, even if he ends up freezing — and acts all dramatic about it: “If I get sick, it’s on you… but totally worth it.”

bf!ollie who spends lazy Sundays with you cooking pancakes, getting flour on his nose, then kissing it onto yours — laughing like a little kid every time.

bf!ollie who leaves little notes in your bag or pocket before you leave for the day: “Don’t forget you’re amazing. Also, eat something, love you.”

bf!ollie who hugs you from behind when you’re brushing your teeth, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying slightly like you’re slow dancing in the bathroom.

bf!ollie who cheers for you like you just won a Grand Prix even if you just nailed a work presentation or finished a stressful day — “THAT’S MY GIRL!” (yes, he’ll yell it).

bf!ollie who plans cozy dates like picnics in Hyde Park, sharing warm pastries and lying on the blanket pointing out cloud shapes like kids.

bf!ollie who texts you “did you eat?” and “I miss you” every time he’s away, even if he just saw you a few hours ago — he’s clingy, but like, the softest kind.

bf!ollie who has a whole playlist called “her smile” that he listens to while traveling — he won’t admit it unless you catch him and he turns bright red.

bf!ollie who gives you forehead kisses like it’s second nature — in the morning, in public, at the track, mid-convo — he just needs that soft little moment with you.

bf!ollie who loves when you wear his hoodie with nothing else underneath and pretends to act annoyed — “Babe, I was looking for that… actually, nevermind. Keep it.”

bf!ollie who insists on doing your skincare routine with you even if he doesn’t know what half the products do — he just wants to be beside you at the sink, giggling with a face mask on.

bf!ollie who sneakily steals Polaroids of you when you’re not looking and keeps them in his passport case, because you’re his home no matter where he goes.

bf!ollie who brings you flowers on random Tuesdays, just because.

“They made me think of you. Soft, pretty… and way too good for me.”

He tucks a note in the bouquet that simply says, “You’re my favorite.”

bf!ollie who gets jealous in the quietest, sweetest way — he won’t say much, but suddenly his arm’s around your waist and he’s kissing your temple every five minutes like: “Just reminding them who you belong to.”

[sordidmusings]

mihawk strikes me as the type to hide any hickies that he got but admire them in private, shanks would shamelessly show them off in public, while robin is more casual and doesn't get embarrassed if someone points it out and says point blank that she made out with you and it was very nice (sanji is crying).

YOURE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Also that ending is sENDING ME DJFJFJFJFFK if you’re afab then Sanji would definitely be stuck struggling if those were tears of joy for knowing it happened or tears of pain that he’ll never be a part of it. Probably more of the latter. If you’re amab then those are 100% grade A, bonafide Tears of Despair 💀

Mihawk, Shanks, and Robin Hickey Headcanons

Thinking about the Mihawk, you’d have to be Smart about where you put those hickies (thighs thighs thighs-) since he’s always Tits Out and Collar POPPED. I think if he showed up with a fully buttoned shirt or turtleneck it would be more suspicious than him saying the bruises were from training 💀 (I mean maybe it was true - you could’ve been training him to let you fully take charge for once 🤷🏼‍♀️). The thought of him admiring them is what really grabs me in this. I like to think the betrayal that Oda hints at in Mihawk’s background is related to a past love (many good daydreams from this lol) so him healing enough from that to take the time to admire a mark of intimacy?? Feel satisfaction looking at a physical reminder that you belong to each other?? Find comfort in being your partner and enjoying being wanted and owned by you??? Happy brain 🫠🫠🫠

Shanks being the resident manwhore is Gospel dude and I fuckin LOVE him for that 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 here for the energy and the good times lol I imagine that he just showed them first cuz he didn’t care to hide them. Why would it matter?? It’s obvious he’s a man with a large appetite for debauchery both light and heavy and they’re all adults on the ship so there’s no problem. Then he found he enjoyed all the jokes, whether in his favor or at his expense, whenever his crew caught a peep of an exceptionally dark or large one or an excessive art project coloring his neck and chest. But once he got with you he enjoyed it even more. He was proud edging on smug whenever others saw the marks you’ve left on him. He got to have you and they didn’t. Better yet they also got to see just how much you enjoy him. Why would he ever hide that??

R O B I N 😩 I HAVE A NEED OKOK AND OML I WAS CACKLING AT THE “and it was very nice” HDHFHFJD SO HER AND SO FUNNY 💀💀💀 imagine that conversation being how the crew finds out you’re together. They just thought you were Close Friends. And I mean they’re not wrong, there’s just some extra activities. And maybe a new type of devotion to go along with the friend one. Whoopsies 🤷🏼‍♀️. Honestly maybe even extra points if it’s also the convo where you get together because the making out just kind of Happened and you’ve been agonizing over the “what does it mEAN???” and “how do I talk to her about this???” Then she’s just like “yeah we kissed and it was great :)”. Oh so this isn’t a big secret?? She’s not ashamed?? It was great 👀 over the howls of Sanji you manage to ask her to meet with you after breakfast for a convo (and more time enjoying some “very nice” activities)

Complete side note on Robin - since sensation but not wounds seem to transfer from her copies and extra limbs/etc. that would be insanely convenient to go buck wild while also being able to be completely discrete. Of course you don’t get the same advantage 😔 which I’m sure she’d exploit to have fun watching you react to them being pointed out by the loud mouthed captain like every time (“Luffy I tOLD you already - we weren’t leaving you out of sparring!”) or maybe a nosy navigator heheheh

And on an angstier note, having gone so so so long without love, I bet physical reminders of any kind help her feel like it’s real and that’s she’s not just going to wake up and find out it was all a dream. There’s also a promise in visible proofs of love, sometimes even ones as ~scandalous~ as hickies, that you want that love and you’re proud of that love. I think Robin would find a lot of solace in anything that helps her know you’re happy and proud to love her.

Really enjoying these and may do some little vignettes of them! Undecided if I wanna throw some others in there 🤔 maybe if any Grabs Me while I think more about it haha or if anyone is possibly interested 🤷🏼‍♀️

Thank you for sending in your thoughts dear anon❣️I’ve had so much fun with them!!!! Sending love and hugs 🤍🤍🤍

Part of my little celebration!

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 12 | extra

rafe confronting topper about offering reader a ride

K M S M A S T E R L I S T

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, rafe being pissed off/in denial, also rafe overreacting just a tiny bit (a lot), poor topper just trying to be nice

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 700+

✿ A / N ✿ made this convo initially for myself, so i could grasp more clearly what's going on behind reader's back but i turned it into a little extra scene bc i thought it might be interesting hihi. reading this extra scene is optional, it's not necessary to understand what's going on.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

!!! PLEASE READ PART 12 BEFOREHAND OTHERWISE THIS WON��T MAKE SENSE

!!! IT TAKES PLACE JUST AFTER SCHOOL BUT BEFORE THE LAST BIT OF PART 12

Rafe seriously considered getting out of the car, walking across the parking lot, through the schoolyard, and to the gym just to punch Topper in the face. Maybe Kelce too, just to send a warning for tonight.

Because what the actual fuck were they thinking?

Kelce just... existing with his dumbass face, and fucking Topper, thinking he could just text you and play chauffeur like it was no big deal.

What the hell was that even about?

"We think she's cool?" Yeah, nah, what the actual fuck. The fact that those two idiots had even talked to you in History—and knowing they probably said some dumb shit—holy fuck, it pissed him off in a whole different way.

Not because he saw them as competition or whatever the fuck Topper was trying to imply. Hell no, as if either of them could ever be competition for Rafe. It was just... he seriously didn’t need anyone else getting attached to him. Those two dumbasses were already more than enough.

Fuck, but knowing how much you overthought everything and got yourself worked up over random bullshit, you were probably taking this as some kind of sign or whatever. Like, maybe you—okay, no, whatever, how the fuck was he supposed to know what was going on in your head?

Shit, Rafe just didn’t want you to get any stupid ideas, that was all.

He wasn’t looking for another girl glued to his ass. Running into Ruthie and Gracie today had been more than enough reminders of how fucking annoying girls could be.

Yeah, sure, okay, you weren’t some loudmouthed bitch — that much was obvious.

And honestly, that pissed him off even more because he didn’t get you. He couldn't figure you out. You were so damn closed-off, it was impossible to tell what the hell you were thinking about him or anything in general.

So, Rafe didn’t try to bait you with dirty jokes or bullshit for no reason — he was trying to push you, trying to get something out of you, anything that might reveal what was actually going on inside your head.

But today, you’d surprised him.

The way you'd stayed cool when Ruthie decided to start running her mouth. You hadn't reacted in some cringy, overcompensating girl shit, and also hadn't hit her with some long-ass emotional speech like you’d done with him with before.

Nah, he’d actually wanted to pull out his phone and snap a picture of Ruthie’s dumbass face when you shut her down.

And the fact that Ruthie even thought she could come at you like that had him fucking pissed and he didn’t even know why.

Grinding his teeth, Rafe scrubbed a hand down his face and through his hair (at home, he def needed a line before the party).

Fuck. Speaking of Ruthie and girl bullshit—

Ruthie already having called you 'his new girlfriend'? Fucking annoying. The fact she’d spread that shit all over the party? Rafe already wanted to blow his brains out.

And then fucking Topper on top of that.

Jesus Christ.

Yeah, okay, Rafe had to admit you were cool.

You weren’t annoying, you weren’t clingy, you weren’t some fake-ass bitch. Sometimes you even made him laugh harder than his own idiot friends. And most importantly: you knew when to shut the hell up but weren’t scared to snap back if someone deserved it.

But just because Rafe tolerated you—okay, what the actual fuck, just no. Seriously, why the hell did he even need to justify that to anyone?

Topper could kiss his ass. Ruthie too. And Kelce anyway.

You were chill to be around. No more, no less.

And if anyone had shit to say about it tonight—fuck it, they could catch hands.

And you? The way you'd stood up to Ruthie today had earned you a solid plus in Rafe’s book. Just thinking about the way you'd shut her up almost made him forget about what had just pissed him off.

So yeah, screw it, then Rafe will be the one driving you to the party tonight. He didn't want you whining about it later when you'd find out Topper was picking up Ruthie's gang instead.

And if that kicked off some overthinking bullshit in your head, he’d fix it real quick with a few shots at Kelce's—and if that didn’t work, well, he still had a little baggie of nice powder tucked away and Kelce always had some weed in storage.

Yeah, the more Rafe thought about it, the more he liked the idea of finally dragging you out of that weird-ass, overthinking brain of yours and seeing how you'd act without it.

Shit, maybe he'd have a whole lot of fun at Kelce's shitty-ass party just by seeing this task as a little challenge. Maybe he might even stick to your side, if only just to see you pull that dumbass look out of Ruthie’s face again.

And honestly, in this very moment, out of all these shitty people, Rafe fucked with you the most anyway.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

CONTINUE WITH PART 12

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T

[cosmicflw3rr]

May I put in a request that's kind of like how everyone mentions Dom and his wife whenever there as Livdom promo, but instead its like Livs wife having to see her wife going through the same thing with maybe a little of reassurance and just soft gayness? If not no worries, have a great day

no one else.

liv morgan x fem! reader

summary: you trust liv. you always have. but the fan obsession with her and dominik starts to wear on you—until a quiet night in your shared hotel reminds you where her heart really is.

A/N: i’m not part of the lgbtq+ community myself, so if anything here feels off, please know it wasn’t intentional. i don’t mind writing wlw stories — i actually really enjoy exploring those dynamics and emotions — but i still want to be respectful and get it right. thank you so much for reading and supporting. it really means a lot.

you’d always been proud of liv.

from the moment she got cleared again, the moment she walked through gorilla at the royal rumble with that smirk on her face, from the moment she started her revenge tour, you’d cheered for her louder than anyone. you always had, it was her time.

but no one warned you how weird it would feel watching her pretend to be in love with someone else—even if it was scripted. even if you trusted her with your whole heart.

watching her on screen, week after week, rubbing noises with dominik mysterio, trading glances and saying things that made the crowd roar. it was good TV. hell, it was great tv.

the chemistry was there—undeniable, magnetic, the kind of thing people couldn’t stop talking about. liv and dom. dom and liv. your phone lit up with it constantly. instagram edits, twitter threads, fans dissecting every interview, every line, every little look like it meant more than it did.

and each week when dom and liv were on tv, you’d constantly see the comments.

‘their wives are strong💔’

‘yo they look in love fr’

‘yea I don’t think it’s a act no more, she feeling dominik.’

some of them made you laugh. some you even saved because the edits were that good. you weren’t blind—you saw what the fans saw. liv and dom were magic together.

but no one ever seemed to remember that liv had a wife watching from the sidelines. one who knew how much liv poured into this story, how hard she fought to make people talk again.

and god, did they talk.

they talked about her eyes, the way she smiled when dom said something slick. they slowed down footage like it was evidence, screenshotted moments that were half-second beats between lines, and gave them meaning that didn’t exist.

but the worst part wasn’t the shipping. it wasn’t the edits or the fan cams or the threads that went viral for the wrong reasons. it was the way they made you start questioning things you already knew the answers to.

like whether that look in liv’s eyes was just performance.

like whether she smiled like that when you weren’t around.

like whether she’d still be yours if the story ever did blur the lines too much.

you didn’t want to feel that way. you hated feeling that way. because liv wasn’t just your wife—she was your best friend.

your person. and she’d never given you a reason not to trust her.

but you were human. and humans get insecure.

so you bottled it up. bit your tongue every time someone tagged you in another “liv and dom are endgame” video. smiled through the backstage convos. reminded yourself this was her job. her career.

but that didn’t make it easier.

especially not tonight.

you stood in gorilla, arms folded tight across your chest, watching the monitor as liv and dom walked toward the ring. she looked so confident. electric. he whispered something to her on the ramp, and she laughed—bright and wild and effortless.

it should’ve made you proud.

instead, it twisted a little in your stomach.

until a voice cut through the buzz in your ears, low and kind.

“hey,” she said, nudging your elbow. “you okay?”

you blinked, torn from your thoughts, and looked over at her. marie stood casually, arms crossed like yours, watching the same monitor—but not with the same tension in her jaw. she was calm. you weren’t sure how.

you nodded, maybe a little too quickly. “yeah. just tired.”

marie gave you a look like she didn’t believe you for a second. she’d been through this too—hell, she was still going through it. even after all the chaos between rhea and dom had fizzled out, the internet never really let it go. some part of her had to know what it felt like.

“how do you do it?” you asked suddenly, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

marie turned toward you. “do what?”

you swallowed. “handle it. the comments. the edits. watching dom out there with liv, acting the way they act every week while the world pretends you don’t exist.”

marie’s expression softened. she tilted her head, considering her words before she spoke.

“you remind yourself that you know the truth,” she said.

marie’s eyes flicking back to the monitor for a beat. “y/n, you have to remind yourself that you know the truth,” she said again, firmer this time. “you know who comes home to you. you know who’s there when the cameras cut. i’ve been with dom for twelve years. I know him better than anyone else in the world.”

your heart swelled a little at that. not out of envy—just… something tender. something that understood what it meant to love someone that long and hold space for all the versions of them the world got to see.

you smiled softly. “twelve years?”

marie nodded, almost bashful. “since we were fourteen. i’ve seen every phase of him—before he even wanted to get into wrestling, before the tattoos, before the boos, when he was tagging with rey, the judgment day. this? liv and him? It’s just a story. one with a shelf life.”

you nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek, arms folded tighter now. her words helped. they did. but your eyes still found the monitor again, and there she was—liv, lit up under the lights, locking eyes with dom as they stood in the center of the ring.

she looked perfect.

but there was that gnawing feeling again. that pit in your stomach. It had nothing to do with dom himself. he was a great guy, and you liked him. he was nice to you, kind, respectful.

but it wasn’t about him. It was about the fans. the way they were constantly drawing lines and creating stories that weren’t there. the way they couldn’t respect that liv, had someone who loved her off-screen.

marie shifted slightly, glancing back at the monitor before looking at you again, this time with a softer expression. “how long have you and liv been together?” she asked quietly, as if she could sense the weight of your thoughts.

you paused for a moment, processing the question. “since 2017,” you said, the words coming out slower than you expected. “we got married in 2020.”

you smiled softly at the memory, remembering how it felt to marry her.

the moment you walked down the aisle was still so vivid in your mind. liv, standing there, waiting for you, her bright smile lighting up the venue.

you’d never seen her more beautiful. tears welled in her eyes, but she was smiling through them, her hands trembling just slightly as she reached out to you.

the world had quieted around you two, and in that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you—just as it had always been, just as it would always be.

you knew then that no matter how loud the world got, she was yours. and you were hers.

“you’re her person,” marie said softly, pulling you back to the present. “and no one can change that. not the fans, not the storylines. you are the one she comes home to.”

you nodded, trying to shake the lingering weight in your chest. marie’s words were grounding, and it helped to hear someone who’d been in the trenches too, but the jealousy still gnawed.

it didn’t make sense—it wasn’t about liv. it wasn’t even about dom. it was about the world that seemed to erase you from the narrative.

“you’re right,” you said, taking a deep breath. “i know she’s my wife. and i know she loves me. i just… i don’t know. sometimes i get stuck on all the noise.”

marie smiled softly, her eyes understanding. “we all do. it’s hard to drown out the noise when it’s everywhere. but you know what? you and i, we got lucky.”

“lucky?” you raised an eyebrow, glancing at her with confusion.

“yeah,” she nodded. “we married two amazing people. people who would fight for us, who would always come back to us no matter what the world says. not everyone gets that.”

you smiled at the way she said it, knowing she was right. she had her own struggles, her own moments of doubt—but she had dom, and you had liv. and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

before you could answer, the curtain rustled—and just like that, liv and dom walked through gorilla, breathless and still buzzing from the crowd. liv’s eyes found yours instantly.

and god—that smile.

her whole face lit up like she’d been waiting to see you all night. her pace didn’t slow as she made a beeline toward you, pulling her hair tie loose as she walked.

“hey, baby,” she said, voice excited, and without hesitation, she slipped her arm around your waist.

liv tucked herself against you like it was second nature, her arm slung casually around your waist, but the way her fingers grazed your back was soft. intentional.

“you saw it?” she asked, glancing up at you with that glimmer in her eye. she pulled back putting her hands on her hips.

you nodded, a bright smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. you were amazing.”

dom leaned in and gave marie a quick kiss, his hand resting gently on her waist, soft and familiar.

after a moment he pulled away from marie stepping forward with a friendly grin. “hey,” he said, pulling you into a quick, polite hug. “how you been?”

“good,” you smiled, giving him a light pat on the back before stepping away. “you guys killed it out there.”

dom grinned. “thanks. liv’s been on another level lately. makes my job easy.”

you nodded again, holding onto your smile, even though your eyes flicked to liv for just a second

liv leaned into your side a little more, fingers brushing softly against your lower back, like she could feel everything you weren’t saying.

“hi, marie,” she said warmly, offering her a quick hug too. “you look cute tonight.”

marie smiled. “thanks. you guys lit it up out there.”

liv grinned. “crowd was wild.”

dom turned toward marie, gently tugging at her hand. “you wanna hit catering before it gets raided again?”

marie chuckled, nodding. “yeah, i’m starving.”

“alright, we’re gonna hit catering before they run out of anything good,” he said, already tugging her gently toward the hallway. “text me if any of you want anything.”

“we’re good,” liv called after them, still tucked against you. “get your little fruit cups.”

dom flipped her off over his shoulder without turning around, “good seeing you, y/n!”

“you too, dom!” you said back.

they headed off together, voices fading down the hallway as the buzz of backstage moved on around you.

you and liv stayed right there, still close, but not in a way that felt heavy or uncomfortable.

you glanced down at her. “you not hungry?”

she shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “not really. i kind of just wanna hang with you.”

“alright, i’m all yours,” you said with a soft smile, giving in to the warmth of her presence.

she kissed the corner of your mouth. “wanna go lurk around like gremlins until the show’s over?”

you snorted. “always.”

liv grinned at your answer and tugged your hand, leading you away from gorilla.

you wandered the halls together like you had a million times before—past production crates, stacks of folding chairs, crew members brushing past with clipboards and headsets. it was familiar. easy.

“we’re like roaches,” liv said, grinning as she pulled you down a quieter hallway, where the noise from gorilla faded into a dull hum behind you.

you laughed under your breath. “speak for yourself. i’m more like… a very cute, very charming gremlin.”

liv let out a full laugh at that, bumping her shoulder into yours. “yeah, you are. you’re my favorite gremlin.”

you squeezed her hand, feeling a little lighter with her next to you. she was still in her gear—those leather shorts, in a cropped ‘livin dirty’ merch shirt—and even under the fluorescent hallway lights, she looked like a star.

“you killed it tonight,” you said, glancing over at her. “that promo was insane.”

she gave you a small, bashful smile, like it still meant something when it came from you. “thanks, baby. i felt good out there.”

“you looked good out there too,” you teased lightly.

liv shot you a wink. “you tryna hype me up or you tryna take me back to the hotel already?”

you laughed, bumping her hip with yours. “maybe a little of both.”

liv grinned, squeezing your hand again as you wandered deeper into the maze of the backstage area. there wasn’t really a destination—you were just moving, together, talking about everything and nothing.

“you see priest almost bust his ass coming down the ramp?” liv said suddenly, making you snort.

“no, are you serious?”

“swear to god,” she giggled. “there’s a clip already. someone slowed it down and put music over it.”

you laughed harder, imagining it way too clearly. “i need you to send me that immediately.”

“already did,” she said proudly. “i gotchu.”

you shook your head, smiling despite yourself. you passed by a production crate and liv jumped up to sit on it, swinging her legs like a little kid. you leaned against it beside her, arms brushing.

for a second it felt normal. easy.

but liv was watching you closely now, her smile faltering just a little when you weren’t looking.

you kicked lightly at the crate with the toe of your boot, pretending not to notice, but you could feel her eyes on you. she always could read you better than you could read yourself.

“sooo,” she said after a minute, swinging her legs a little. “what’s the plan after we bust outta here? you wanna get room service? or go out to eat?”

you smiled, looking up at her. “honestly, room service sounds fine. I’m exhausted.”

liv lit up at that, bumping your shoulder again. “you know I saw last night on the menu, they had milkshakes. we can split one like the sickly cute couple we are.”

you laughed. “you just want an excuse to steal most of it.”

“uh, yeah?” she grinned, like it was obvious.

you stayed like that for a second, her legs kicking lightly, you leaning against the crate beside her, the hallway around you mostly empty now. it was quiet, except for the distant rumble of the show still going on.

liv nudged you again, softer this time. “you good?”

you hesitated, chewing your lip for half a second before you answered.

you shook your head lightly, trying to shake off the weight that had settled in your chest, but the knot was still there. “it’s nothing. really, it’s just… i’ll tell you later, okay?” you said, offering her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

liv tilted her head, her brow furrowing as she studied you. “babe, don’t give me that. something’s been off all night.”

you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t want to drag you into it right now. can we talk when we get back to the hotel?”

there was a beat of silence, liv’s eyes softening. she could tell you were trying to protect her from whatever was on your mind, but she hated when you kept things from her. she wasn’t some stranger in this—you were a team.

liv reached out, gently cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin in a comforting motion. “you don’t have to protect me from your shit, babe. we’re a team, remember? so, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

you swallowed, her words sinking in like a lifeline. the knot in your chest loosened just slightly, but the weight was still there. “i know,” you whispered, looking into her eyes. “it’s just… it feels bigger than it probably is. i don’t want to make it worse.”

her gaze never wavered. “you won’t. not if you let me in. so, whatever it is, we talk about it now, or when we get back to the hotel, but we talk. okay?”

you sighed, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling inside you. “okay,” you said, finally letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “when we get back.”

you leaned in, your lips meeting liv’s in a soft, lingering kiss. it wasn’t rushed, just a quiet moment between the two of you, grounding you.

when you pulled back, her gaze was still steady on you, and for the first time tonight, you felt like you could breathe a little easier.

before either of you could say anything else, liv’s phone buzzed in her pocket. she pulled away with a sigh, glancing down at the screen. her expression softened as she read the message, and she shot you a look, raising an eyebrow.

“raquel’s asking if we want to hang out in catering,” she said, her voice warm but still laced with concern. “she’s with carlito, dom, and marie.”

you shrugged lightly, the tension still weighing you down but knowing you could use the distraction. “yeah, sure. it’ll be good to get our minds off things.”

liv smiled, the familiar glint of mischief returning to her eyes. “good idea,” she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket before she took your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. “but don’t think i’m forgetting about our conversation.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied with a small smirk.

as you both made your way out, the hallways quieter now that most of the action had died down, you felt liv nudge you from behind.

without even thinking, you slowed your pace, and before you knew it, she was hopping onto your back, her arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders.

“i feel like being carried,” she teased softly, her breath warm against your neck.

you chuckled, settling her comfortably, your hands easily finding the familiar spot around her legs to keep her steady. “i’m not your personal chauffeur, you know,” you teased back, though the truth was, you didn’t mind one bit.

“oh, come on,” she said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “you love it.”

you could feel the smile on her lips against your skin, her arms around you, the sound of her laughter in your ear—helped chase whatever you were feeling away.

“yeah, yeah,” you muttered, but your tone was softer now, more relaxed. “don’t get used to it, though.”

“i’ll try,” she said, but the playful smile in her voice told you she wasn’t planning on listening.

as you both entered catering, the familiar buzz of laughter and chatter filled the air. marie’s gaze met yours from across the room, and the moment she saw you, her eyes softened.

there was something about the way she looked at you—concern, but also understanding. she gave you a comforting smile, her eyes silently asking if you were alright.

you gave her a small nod, trying to brush off the weight of the evening, but you could feel the knot still tight in your chest. marie, as always, seemed to know when something was off.

liv, never missing a beat, slid off your back and stepped toward the table, pulling your chair out for you with a playful grin.

“after you, my lady,” she teased, her voice warm and teasing, completely unaware of the quiet exchange between you and marie.

you shot marie a wink, a silent thanks for understanding, before you took a seat. marie raised an eyebrow, but her smile stayed, giving you a little nod as she took her place nearby.

-

you’re curled up cross-legged on the bed, fresh from the shower, hair still damp at the ends. liv’s “LIV’S FINALLY ON TOP” hoodie swallows you whole, soft and oversized, sleeves slipping past your hands as you flick through channels with the remote.

the glow of the tv paints soft blues across the dark room. there’s a quiet hum in the air — not silence, but the kind that feels calm. expectant.

the bathroom door clicks open, and steam billows out before she steps through it. liv’s hair is wet and messy, her towel looped lazily around her shoulders as she rubs at her curls.

she’s in a cropped white tank and tiny black shorts, glasses perched low on her nose — and she freezes for a second when she spots you in her merch.

she grins.

“ugh,” she says, dragging the towel through her hair again as she walks over. “have i told you how hot it is when you wear my stuff?”

you look over your shoulder at her and smirk. “maybe once or twice. but i don’t mind hearing it again.”

she tosses the towel at the end of the bed and climbs up beside you, legs brushing yours.

she tosses the towel at the end of the bed and climbs up beside you, her leg brushing yours. her knee bumps gently into yours

you reach for the remote and click the tv off. the silence that follows isn’t heavy — but it’s real.

liv glances at you, and you don’t even have to say it. she already knows.

you reach for the remote and click the tv off. the silence that follows isn’t heavy — but it’s real.

liv glances at you, and you don’t even have to say it. she already knows.

“so,” she says, voice gentler now. “you said you wanted to talk?”

you hesitate. swallow. the words feel clumsy in your mouth, too sharp for the softness of this moment.

but she’s looking at you with those big, earnest eyes — the ones that make it impossible to lie.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “it’s just…”

you trail off. liv doesn’t rush you.

after a beat, she shifts, twisting her body to face you fully. she crosses her legs in front of you, knee to knee, and rests her hands lightly on her thighs. her eyes never leave yours.

you take a breath. try again.

“sometimes it’s hard. watching all the stuff. the edits. the comments. people acting like you and dom are…” the words stick in your throat, bitter and stupid, but you force them out. “like you’re something you’re not.”

liv’s expression softens. she doesn’t scoff or make a joke. she just listens.

you swallow again. your fingers twist in the hem of the hoodie.

“and it’s not all fans. i’ve seen some stuff that makes me laugh, honestly. the occasional edit that’s actually kind of good. the tweets, the cute captions, the way some people just… get it. i don’t hate it. not all of it.”

liv’s brows lift slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“it’s just…” your voice lowers, quieter now. “some of them overstep. say things like they know you. or us. or dom. like they’ve decided what this is and who we are without knowing a damn thing. and i know it comes with the job, with who you are. i do. but sometimes it just—it gets to me.”

liv’s hand finds yours in the space between you. grounding.

“i trust you,” you say, eyes flicking back to hers. “i trust you with everything. and i trust dom, too. he’s never made me feel like there was a line he’d cross, never said anything that made me question us. he’s been respectful. always.”

liv’s thumb brushes against your knuckles.

“i know,” she says softly.

“i like him,” you admit. “i really do. he’s good to you. and i get why the fans ship it. i do. i just don’t want it to drown out… this. us. what’s real.”

liv squeezes your hand, gentle but firm, and then lets go only to shift closer.

her knees slide around you, legs folding on either side of your lap as she straddles you, slow and sure — like she’s saying i’m here. right here.

her hands lift to your cheeks, cool fingers against the heat of your skin, and she tilts your face so you have no choice but to look at her.

“hey,” she says softly. “look at me.”

you do — reluctantly at first, but you do.

“there is no one else,” she says, slow and steady like it’s the only thing that matters. “no one i think about when i wake up. no one i miss when i’m on the road. no one who gets under my skin or knows how to calm me down or makes me laugh when i don’t even want to smile.”

her thumb brushes beneath your eye, like she’s memorizing every inch of your face. her expression is so open it makes your throat tighten.

liv leans in a little closer, forehead nearly touching yours, voice barely more than a whisper now.

“you’re it for me,” she says. “no one else even comes close.”

you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath for days. her words hit somewhere deep, quieting that restless ache in your chest.

your hands lift to her waist, holding her gently, thumbs brushing the soft skin just beneath the hem of her tank. her presence is warm, steady, real. and in that moment, all the noise — the edits, the comments, the opinions of people who will never know either of you — it all fades.

“you’re it for me too,” you say, voice a little shaky, but honest. “always have been.”

liv smiles, small but so full of feeling, it nearly undoes you. she leans in and presses her lips to your forehead.

then her hands slide down to cup your jaw, thumbs stroking your skin as she looks at you, gaze soft and a little misty behind her glasses.

“i hate that you even have to question it,” she says. “you’ve never been second to anything. not the fans, not the storylines, not dom. you’re mine. and i’m yours. and nothing about a fake pairing on tv changes that.”

you nod, throat too tight to speak.

“thank you,” you murmur. “for not brushing it off. for not making me feel stupid.”

liv snorts, shaking her head. “you? stupid? please. you could wear a paper bag and still be the hottest person in this room.”

you laugh, a watery sound that slips out before you can help it. liv’s thumbs wipe the tears you didn’t realize had gathered, and then she’s kissing the corners of your eyes, soft and slow, like she’s trying to make the ache disappear with her lips.

liv presses one last kiss to your cheek before pulling back just enough to really look at you, eyes soft and sure. “you’re allowed to feel things, y’know,” she murmurs. “and you never have to apologize for that. not with me.”

you nod again, the weight in your chest loosening with every second she holds you.

she shifts a little in your lap, arms draped around your shoulders now, and her forehead brushes against yours once more.

“now,” she says, voice lighter, teasing creeping back in. “are we gonna sit here getting all misty-eyed, or are you gonna let me force you to watch the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time?”

you blink, already bracing. “…you don’t mean—”

“chucky time, baby,” she grins, pure menace and mischief, pulling away to grab the remote with a gleam in her eye.



you groan, leaning your head back against the headboard as liv gleefully queues it up. “you’re actually insane,” you mumble, but your arms don’t loosen around her waist. if anything, you pull her closer.

“i prefer cultured,” she says smugly, settling back against you with the remote in hand like it’s a throne and you’re her favorite seat.

“you’ve made me watch this five times already,” you point out, burying your face in her shoulder.

“and we’ll watch it five more. because it’s art. cinema. because charles lee ray is misunderstood.”

you lift your head just enough to give her a flat look. “he’s literally a serial killer trapped in a doll.”

liv shrugs, utterly unbothered. “details.”

she presses play before you can argue, and the eerie, overly dramatic opening score starts up — again — filling the room with cheesy horror magic.

liv wiggles excitedly in your lap like she hasn’t seen it a thousand times, her glasses slipping a little down her nose as she leans forward.

you sigh, defeated, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you settle your chin on her shoulder.

because honestly? if this is how forever looks — wrapped in her hoodie, wrapped in her arms, watching some cursed little ginger doll wreak havoc while liv quotes every line — you’ll take it.

even if you still think chucky’s a little freak.

[sgiandubh]

Games people play

An ephemeral (and now quickly deactivated) account went rogue and sent a prominent shipper blog a whole load of conversations between that person, who played friendly to the Other Side, and Caitony. You know, the staunch stalwart of the Remarkable Week-end Saga, who consistently insulted shippers in the most revolting fashion one can imagine. 'Crazy' and 'stupid' being almost terms of endearment, of course.

I shall not repost the six conversations that have been meticulously screen capped and posted. You can read them here, starting with this post, where the Rogue Operator explains her choice of releasing them: https://www.tumblr.com/auburncurlslass/781073024919207936/hello-shipper-this-message-is-not-about-me-sam?source=share

But a couple of lines from that scrambled dialogue of sorts gave me pause, and I have thoughts and questions, as always.

'Beijos em tenda'/'Kisses in the tent'. I know what I saw, that night, while dissecting that Taylor Swift concert episode frame by frame. Many shippers were doubtful, perhaps because almost twelve years of brutality made many wary of the consequences of being too open or too readily accepting. A culture of paranoia and permanent second-guessing was the necessarily logical consequence of collective bullying. Now one of the most revolting people on the other side confesses she saw exactly the same thing and that it annoyed the shit out of her. Understandable: Those Two Kissed. Not on the cheek.

So, here you have it: Caitony knows that very well. Is she the only one? Doubtful: many, if not all of them, know the same thing, for you can be sure conversations happened in those DM boxes, too,

Shipper Mom just confirmed: in the above context, a 'beijo' is virtually never on the cheek. Otherwise, it would have been an 'abraço' - just a hug, so to speak, which wouldn't have scandalized Caitony. Yet, this one seems to have traumatized her so much, that she felt the urge to remind her 'friend', in a different conversation, one of the arguments used by Mordor to explain C's questionable behavior, including (but not only) that night. Albeit, on a more ominous tone:

C is, according to Caitony, 'doida'/crazy and 'bebe muito'/drinks a lot'. Yes, this is in the context Caitony finally spills the tea about her very seriously shipping C and Tobias Menzies, which is amusing, to say the least. Later on, she even speculates on Blonde Bambino being Tobias' son: ugh, nobody seems to like McGill, or what?

I have always known the entire Greek Chorus of sopranos, minions and clones were always spinning the same two arguments in a gradual miscellanea of insults and fighting words because what I post often made them feel uneasy (a #silly understatement). But now, here is evidence:

You know, they love and respect her so much, that they are readily throwing her under the bus the very moment she does not conform to their scenario. It's 'exclusivamente culpa dela'/'exclusively her fault', because you are just a sad and lonely woman, who has a parasocial relationship with a perfect, lionized stranger. And wow, how hard must reality sometimes bite, to make you veer dangerously close to our shores: 'tem horas que acho Tony um verdadeiro fantoche'/'at times, I think Tony is a real puppet'. You don't say, darling...

Of course, S is (according to Caitony) a gay man whose partner is Norouzi, which doesn't really come as a surprise, since this is what the Screeching Banshees have been insinuating for years, now. I have debunked enough of it, even showing how they tinkered with Wikipedia, to insist on this nonsense.

What is really interesting, though, is this very recent convo with Caitony, where she touches a very sensitive issue, all the while telling her 'friend' she was disillusioned and quitting this toxic madness:

Fucking fun, too, to read her defining C's marriage as a 'farca necessaria'/a necessary sham (but is this the same woman seeing McGill in Dublin, recently? Oh...) and openly mentioning 'divorcio'/divorce. Not once, but at least twice:

She even expects it to happen (really?), but thinks it's not the case, yet. How peculiar, really!

And, perhaps the most telling of everything, here is what she really, honestly wants for C's new movie, just because she thinks C needs the money and this is why she lies to her true fans:

'Quero que ela flope esse filme'/I want her film to be a flop'.

Not a fucking ounce of fucking shame. A cara nem treme.

I am not sorry for the length. Credits given accordingly, with the amendment the informer deactivated her blog, supposedly because she was afraid of Caitony going after her. I can also tell you that this informer followed my page for an hour, before changing her mind and choosing to post elsewhere. I am glad she did spill the tea.

'No boundaries. No respect. No class.'

In the meanwhile, we are preparing our trip to Paris, where we will make sure to tell C how good she is at what she does. I am not going for her. I am going because I want to hug and talk to all the people who will join our merry company. Because this is what a fandom is for: a facilitator for like-minded people to meet and become friends, not a cesspool of madness. I'll give Caitony that involuntary honesty.

[i-cant-sing]

You know it’s kinda a good thing Baldwin and Salauddin didn’t live in the modern day with Tim traveler reader. cause can you imagine those two with cell phones?

Baldwin would be non stop texting. Every minute with new things to say to her. And it’s never paragraphs. No he’s texting single sentences at her.

Salauddin would be the worst to text. Like reader texts him a long paragraph about her feelings and he just comes back with “k.” And if she sends him pictures or anything he takes half the day to respond and even then it’s a dry one word answer.

ACCURATE😭😭😭😭

Cause imagine being in class or at work and your phone's just buzzing nonstop with Baldwin's texts, and you'd think it's because he has an emergency or in danger or something, but it's just him messaging you that he saw two pigeons today and they were cannodling and it reminded him of you, but then he got too jealous of the birds so he threw bread at them to scare them away. And there's a picture of him with the birds cuddling with the the text "aww! Miss u babe!🩷🩷" And then its followed by a video of him throwing bread canon balls at them with him laughing manically in the background and he texts "hurry up and get home before I destroy more animal couples🥰"

And then there's Salauddin and he's the driest texter ever. My brother could not for the life of him, keep the convo going and you could just be telling him the JUICIEST GOSSIP and he'd respond "Ok." And you would think that he just doesn't care about you enough to read your messages but in reality, you could actually quiz him and he'd tell you every detail to the T! He reads into your body language, the way you text, your tone, he studies you obsessively which is why he doesn't need to respond the way normal people do, lest you try to read between the lines and decide you don't like him. He just doesn't wanna give himself away. It's not that he's not good with words, in fact, he's an excellent poet! Salauddin would write the most loving poems for his beloved, but that's something he's saving for a special occasion, like... a wedding anniversary.

I also think that with phones and the technology, Baldwin for sure would keep tabs on you at all times! He's good at hacking, excellent at cyber security and breaching it. Besides, it's just sooo easy to get into your accounts, be just needs to make sure no creep is taking advantage of you.

As for Salauddin, while yes, he could have someone hack into your phone, he prefers to keep you safe by actually having professional bodyguards/assassins that are excellent at hiding in the shadows and being invisible to keep you safe from all the creeps when he's not around to punch them. Even when he takes you out on dates, that fancy restaurant is actually a safehouse of sorts. All the other customers there are hired professionals and their main job is to detect anyone who could target you or him. He has snipers on nearby buildings, ready to take care of anyone who tries to enter the closed off street to the restaurant with suspicious intent.

[accio-victuuri]

now it’s time for me to scream and cry about the lrlg post. it’s been so long! and the fact that it came to us in the new year, welcoming 2025 with good vibes! this is the perfect start. even if the conversations are random ( as they usually are ), it’s so comforting to read about. even if just for the sake of fiction. this is fitting cause earlier today, there was a screenshot going around of another celebrity’s assistant and she was using a bjyx related merch (nye show). so it’s either this person is a bxg or they know someone who is and they borrowed the bag. so yeah. we may have people who see and hear things. that was the point of the fake rumors from the start, those who know stuff can share.

which leads us to lrlg. my fave tho is the visibility of yibo’s staff. some are even assigning who’s who based on the nye photo that was shared. this is his inner circle and per the convos, they are also close to xz. to those who are confused, in the original text his staff are assigned different emojis. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

we have talked before about how important it is that their staff is coordinated. i really like how wyb is able to just leave xz with them and he can hold his own. it’s crucial that they can be open to a certain group of people and just be themselves.

• the part about accessories and reimbursement & the latest model didn’t make sense to me when i first read it. but then fans explained it as WYB gave each staff member a latest top-end iPhone (should be 16) and asked them to choose the accessories themselves and all the parts would be reimbursed. wow. such a generous boss! i mean, that’s usual for WYB. can i please apply? lol.

• this part. it’s so sweet i wanna slap them! how xz wouldn’t eat without wyb. it’s such a normal thing to do, but so important for them.

🟢 "Why aren't you eating yet?"

🔴 "It's only five minutes, you should be back in fifteen minutes."

and how yibo was like, why don’t you eat and he joked that it’s different when you are with your family member.

• how he was calling yibo dog because when he fed him his “gloves” were bitten through. how he also called him a pig ( which has it’s own lore ) . lol. they really love to clown each other. but yibo is his puppy tho, gouzaizai! and the fact that xz is feeding him. it’s not enough that xz will wait for him to eat together. he will also hand feed wang yibo. i mean. i hate it here. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

• there was mention of puppy printed pants and some are saying it could be this. well, let’s see who will wear something similar first.

• wyb asking if they ordered fruits, most likely for xz. he knows that xz loves it! he is so attentive!

• i was very interested in what they were eating. a fan said it’s most likely beijing roast duck. and it makes sense why xz had to wash his hands, why he was wrapping the food and feeding it to yibo. making sure they eat well is still a top priority on both sides.

• at the start of the convo, wyb was talking about buying gold jewelry for xz and it’s funny cause fans are saying it’s a fitting gift. we all know xz is the god of money and he is someone that seems to be very aware of finances. so the gift is not only in a romantic sense, but also practical. wyb knows this and it’s why he chose that.

i saw someone say it may be this. the gold is real.

• the part when wyb’s staff said xz is his (wyb’s) boss 😂😂😂😂 it reminded us of that cpn, when wyb’s bodyguards are looking and guarding xz instead of him.

• this ⬇️⬇️⬇️

🟢 "I'll pick you up in the afternoon"

🔴 "No need to worry about what time I'll be back"

🟢 "Call me when you're done"

yibo is so boyfriend i wanna cry. this is such a normal thing to do considering they have all the resources. but yibo still wants to do it himself. yibo the driver is here!!!!!

that’s all. maybe i missed some stuff and we may understand some of these better as the days go by. depending on the other clues that will be available to us in the future. again, you don’t need to believe any of this. don’t take it too seriously. bjyxszd. 💕

[valictini]

Kind of amazed that we got 100% confirmation that yes, a cc disconnecting (or at least, being forcibly disconnected) indeed leaves their sleeping body on the spot.

I mean, for the longest time, the only concrete example for this were the egg beds, and the fact that some people rped about them 'dragging' someone else's body around because they couldn't participate in an important story beat... but overall there was a bit of a doubt about wether or not they just pop out of existence, canonically.

And the fact that we SAW the characters' physical bodies ON THE FLOOR, and the fact that the Federation HAS control over this, preventing people from waking up... it's a big deal to me

It reminds me of the convo Pomme had about how on the day Etoiles fought the code impersonating her, she was asleep, she KNEW she was asleep and she wanted to wake up, but couldn't... and how it freaked her out.

Feels like there's something there...

[mxtxfanatic]

Hey,

I wanted to ask your opinion because I just saw a post saying someting along the lines of "jc is the only one how doesn't invaledate jl's grief for his parents" and thought that was weird. And it might be because I haven't read the novel in a while but I don't recal anyone in the novel invaledating jl's grief? Do I just not remember? Did I not pik up on it when I was reading the novel? Or is this one of those things that people made up/misinterpred to make other charaters look better?

Nobody invalidates Jin Ling’s grief over his parents’ deaths. In fact, people actively stoke and encourage it, from his childhood bullies using it to remind him that he has “no one” in his corner—and Jin Guangyao furthering this isolation by encouraging Jin Ling not to fight back—to people using it to defend Jin Ling’s terrible and violent behavior, to Jiang Cheng, himself, living vicariously through his nephew’s grief, making Jin Ling’s trauma into his own tragic backstory:

Jiang Cheng, “Just how much did we the Jiang Sect give you? I’m supposed to be his son, I’m supposed to be the heir of the YunmengJiang Sect, yet all these years I’ve been outdone by you at every single thing. You paid for your bringing-up with life! The lives of my dad, my mom, my sister, and Jin ZiXuan! Because of you, all that’s left is a parentless Jin Ling!” Jin Ling trembled. His shoulders sunk, and his face sagged as well.

—Chapt. 102: Hatred, exr

Even the juniors back out of certain convos with Jin Ling because “well, his parents died. We shouldn’t talk about things that upset him.” Jin Ling is the only person who, by the end of the novel, introspects about his own expressions of grief and goes, “What even is this grief for? To hate people I don’t know for the rest of my life? Well I do know them, and I can’t hate them, so where does that leave me? Am I a failure to my parents’ legacies to not hate their murderers? Who am I without this kind of grief?”

The problem with jc stans is they do this slight of hand where they conflate many different actions and claim them all as one thing. Jin Ling never had his grief invalidated, but what they probably mean is that “Jiang Cheng is the only one who never mocked Jin Ling for being an orphan,” which is still a lie but more factual than the previous one. Also, they may be conflating “grief” with “hatred,” as Jiang Cheng never encouraged Jin Ling to grieve but to hate. Jiang Cheng is the only character to actively encourage Jin Ling’s self-destructive, violent hatred (though one could argue that Jin Guangyao’s policy of non-interference was a passive form of Jiang Cheng’s active role), and it is because of this encouragement that Jin Ling was isolated and almost killed at multiple points in the story. Jiang Cheng never taught his nephew how to deal with his emotions in a healthy manner because he, himself, rejected the idea of healthy emotional regulation in favor of using his wealth and influence to lash out at everyone around him. That’s why neither he nor Jin Ling have friends at the start of the story (and can’t even stand each other), a flaw Jin Ling fixes and Jiang Cheng persists in.

[ghostymarni]

Hi I had no caf today.

But uhh… OC lore pls?

no caf???? How??? 😂✨ do you prefer tea or perhaps you can run on juice?

I need it to function in the mornings. I either need that first brew or an ice cold energy drink to get the gears turning ♥️✨

I hope you mean how Aev started cause that’s what imma share haha!

Aeviririn is my main, self expressed, self insert. I wanted a way to express my presence on the holonet in a way I both saw myself, adding my hair + design style of expression, as well as overall expression of interests + communication. Her design has lots of symbolism in how I designed her.

with the loss of my late husband (it’s been 10 months already) I turned back to art knowing it’s the truest way of communication for me.

I know I started her as a self presence on “this is the artist” drawing myself with my designed mandalorian bucket. But it evolved to who she is now. I’m learning as I go, I’ve never had a public oc before in an active fandom. And it’s all new to me being so involved <3

I’ve learned + continue to learn, the difference between fun lingo usage + fandom RP, which I feel is a very thin line. But just balancing responses between me and using Aev confused myself sometimes because Aev is literally me hahaha. I don’t see myself starting an RP only account because my ADHD is too inconsistent.

my late husband + I called ourselves a mandalorian family, he was a long time boba fett fan even before I met him, and unknowingly we always initiated the keldabe kiss with our son and personal moments. He was into the bad batch before I was and he’d quote things to me not knowing their origin. Making TBB so much more personal. so the grief I felt, felt like I was exposing me to my true feelings and evolving aeviririn to who she is now, feels just as much healing as it is expression. Almost like I was recreating myself as I fell apart.

arm wraps - symbolize how I feel like I’m always fighting through life. Losing my partner I put the wraps on knowing i have no one to help protect me. To keep fighting forward.

long mohawk - it’s my actual hairstyle. I haven’t cut it in almost 8 years, and I shave the sides every other week.

left leg blaster - my late husband taught me how to shoot, helping me overcome my fear of weapons. I like the rifles/snipers not just in games but I lock in when I shoot them. As well as having a blaster for a sniper is essential for close range, but also I keep it as a reminder that my left handed partner always reminded me to be prepared for anything.

Aev is so much of everything I’ve grown to be, and who I strive to keep being. Her attitude is so much of my own as well as my inner confidence. Tomboy + femme, so much of my own desires and interests, and life experiences.

my obsession with the marshal commander actually started a long time ago. Denial cause I had a convo with my late husband talking about what clones I’d connect with before I was deeply immersed into clones as he was. Refusing the 501st because it felt basic hahahaha (he had a captain Rex tattoo) and I was like, I kinda like the red guys, it’s kinda cool.. referring to the coruscant guard. And he was like “oh they’re like the cops of the city” which made me cringe at the time because i wanted to find my reason for it on my own terms. Ironically after he passed I stumbled back onto fox and I hyper fixated on him. Which the fandom at the time was very minimal (from what I saw), about fox being mean grumpy and often disliked. But I couldn’t help it. I liked that hahaha thanks to @eobe for her forwarding me commander caf escalated post which sparked a whole cup of chaos that im so glad I jumped on. And connecting with @lonewolflupe finding out we had so much in common which sparked the chaos twins, initiating a whole new chapter of Aev and creativity <3

I truly appreciate everyone that’s drawn Aev, includes her, and supports my innuendo to myself. I can’t wait to see how she (and I) grow.

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Still can’t get over this, they freaked the FUCK out because someone might have noticed them holding hands a bit longer than strictly speaking necessary, iN puBLiC, then just a few days later dude proceeded to utterly despoil, ravish, nay, DISHONOR her in his family’s gazebo which I still don’t believe nobody in the house or neighbourhood saw or heard, after which they had a very polite, very civilized, very reasonable convo about how getting married would be the stupidest thing for them to do naturally of course how right you are Miss Sharma, WHEREUPON they did get married, right after swapping spit in front of the whole ton, and then went on to play grabass while their family watched, also I’m being reminded this guy started off by proudly declaring how he shall never fall in love MOTHER, truly the greatest love story to ever come out of the clown college.

[puppetwoman17]

Would you ever expand upon your joker junior thoughts more? I think that was such a well written idea and would love to hear what else you think about it

Oh my god yes. 100000% YES!

That post before was more of an idea vomit, didn’t cover all of what I thought, so I’m happy to hear someone wants to hear more.

So, JJ’s always been a tough convo for Tim. Obviously. But it’s not just because of how traumatizing the Joker can be, or about the shocks and psychological torture. It also reminds him of a grim time in his life. With Bruce still going through the motions post-Jason’s death, and Dick frequently spending all his time in Bludhaven, he hadn’t been watched much. Save for Babs, ofc.

That’s actually why they’re so close. She’s much more emotionally competent thanks to her dad, lol.

JJ wasn’t only a big thing for Tim, but for Gotham too. In a place like this, it wasn’t hard for whispers from the Joker’s men to travel to civilians and cops. Everyone knew why Robin was nowhere to be seen. Everyone knew why Batgirl looked the way she did, agitated and worried. Everyone knew why the cops searched that same warehouse over and over, never allowing anyone inside.

Which was also why no one was happy to see Nightwing, very obviously the first Robin, return after yet another sabbatical in Bludhaven. Of course, that stopped a little after everyone collectively realized that, oh crap, he doesn’t even know!

This begins a collective effort by the more clear-minded people of Gotham to NOT disclose anything JJ related. There has to be a reason, right? No way were they going to force Robin #3 to disclose anything he didn’t wait to. It didn’t hurt that a year or two later, a mysterious figure named Oracle began effectively making every news article or picture related to JJ disappear.

Everyone holds their breaths for the next few months. What if what happened to the second Robin happened to him? What if he was too crippled to go back out?

As the Batfamily grows bigger, it becomes way clearer that Robin #3 hasn’t said a WORD. Not even after they grow closer, when the screaming and murder attempts and arguments cease. He doesn’t say a word, so no one else does either.

Tim goes to great lengths to medicate himself against any variant of Joker venom or gas. The familiar smells just… bring things back to the surface.

He tries not to act like Jason whenever the Joker gets out of Arkham. It’s already hard for everyone to hold him back from killing the monster. Jason doesn’t need some second-rate copy of his trauma trying to get sympathy. Unlike Jason, he didn’t die. He didn’t come back differently, or lose footing on his life, his job, whatever.

It would just be better if Tim acted as aloof and concentrated as he always did. Not make a big scene, and follow Batman’s orders to a T. No need to worry anyone.

Honestly, the only reason no one notices the literal war going on in this boy’s head is because he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Oh, and if you’re wondering what he says when one of the bats finds him the next night, still avoiding them…

Yeah, he full on denies EVERYTHING. Looks whoever it is, Jason, Steph, Dick, straight in the eye and says that what they saw was fake. Edited. Something to threaten Bruce with years ago. Tim just ran because…because…Anyway, he’s fine. Don’t worry about Tim Drake. He’s fine.

Babs groans over the comms when everyone hounds on her to tell them everything. Like hell is she gonna tell them a single thing until she has Tim’s full permission.

[ablatheringblatherskite]

Raoul not just as a foil to Erik, but also a painful reminder of what Erik COULD have been.

Erik as someone who had a heart too big for a world so cruel. Raoul as a lover who loves so much that it hurts him.

Erik hating Raoul not just because he's jealous of him, but also because when he saw him, he saw himself. If things were different, maybe that could've been him. Which makes it hurt even more when Christine chooses Raoul, because it isn't just because she's going with someone else, or someone he hates, but because she's going with someone Erik so desperately wishes to be.

And because of that he can't fully hate him, because Raoul knows how to give Christine the love that Erik yearns to give her but can't. Because he doesn't know how. But Raoul can, because he was loved. Sure, maybe his dad did hate him (something he and Erik might also have in common), couldn't look at him because his mom died giving birth to him, but he had his siblings. And Erik had no one.

Raoul and Erik are foils to each other yet they are also so similar, because they love so hard. Love to the point of destruction. It's just that the world is cruel, and favors some and hates the others. And it's not fair, and never is fair. And I'd like to think that if Raoul had the chance to understand Erik more, like Christine and the Daroga did, then I think he would've felt a sort of kinship with him, too. With the man who has a heart too big for such a cruel world, just like Raoul has a heart too big to ever truly belong.

(thoughts after a lovely painful convo with @dont-do-rice-babes)