#I get that I’m being unreasonable and she’s not doing anything wrong I just get overdefensive of my space

[moteldogs]

I need one of those reactive dog vests with the warning patches and everything. don’t pet me I bite

[itneverendshere]

Bartender reader :) reader and Rafe get in a fight and it’s a big one (while they are living together) and reader needs some space and decides to sleep on the couch/guest bedroom but Rafe completely forgets about the fight once he realizes what she’s doing and puts his foot down “you can be mad but you’re still sleeping in this bed” kinda deal?

i feel like their fights never last bc they can't be away from each other that long and bc they're just too disgustingly in love🙂‍↔️ thank you for the request!🤎

i would never do you wrong- r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: a little angst at first, but happy ending obviously.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping your phone a little too tight. The conversation you had been having for the past hour felt like running headfirst into a brick wall—no, arguing with a brick wall.

“I don’t see why this is such a big deal,” Rafe groaned, like a toddler, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’ve been working nonstop. You deserve a break.”

“A break?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Baby, I just got promoted. I can’t take time off like that.”

“You’re acting like this job will disappear if you take a week off. I’ve already planned the trip, I’ve already talked to Ward. You don’t even have to worry about money—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut him off, standing now, your body vibrating with frustration. “You don’t get it! This promotion means everything to me. I worked my ass off for it. And now you’re telling me to throw that away for a vacation?

“I’m not telling you to throw anything away, baby. God, you make it sound like I’m asking you to quit.” Rafe crossed his arms, his brow furrowed, and looked at you like you were the unreasonable one, like you'd just insulted him. “It’s just one week. We can afford to relax.”

“Yeah and what about the wedding? If we’re gonna pay for it, we gotta save up.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, his head shaking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You do remember I’m rich, right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Seriously? That’s your solution? Just throw money at it?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “That’s not what I meant. I can pay for the wedding,” he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. “You’re forgetting I have more than enough money to take care of both of us.”

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing deeply. “I don’t want you to pay for it all.” You were pacing now, “It sounds like you think we can just forget about budgeting and responsibilities because you’ve got a trust fund.”

Rafe threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m just saying we can afford to take some time for ourselves. You don’t need to stress over every little thing.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning sharply to face him. “I’m not ‘stressing over every little thing,’ Rafe. I’m being realistic. We have a wedding to plan. We’ve got bills. I’ve got my career to think about. And no, I don’t want your dad’s money involved in any of that.”

“We have an entire year to save up,” He stared at you, a steely glint in his eyes. “So what? You’re just gonna run yourself into the ground? Burn out completely?” 

Your jaw clenched as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m doing what I need to do. I’ve always done that.”

“And I’ve always been here to help you. But it’s like you don’t even want it.”

“That’s not what this is about,” you argued, stepping closer to him now. “I don’t want to be dependent on that money. I don’t want us to start our marriage with me feeling like I’m just along for the ride.”

Rafe’s face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “So what? You think I’m trying to make you feel small? Like you can’t handle your shit?”

“No. I just want to build something with you. With you, Rafe, not because of Ward’s money.”

He looked away as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the muscle moving under his skin as he swallowed whatever hot-headed thing you knew he felt like saying. Then, with a frustrated exhale, he said, “It’s not like I wanted to rely on him either. But I’m trying to make things easier for us.”

“And I appreciate that, I do.” You sighed, taking a breath. “But this promotion... it’s my chance to prove myself. I want to know that I earned everything we have. Not that it came from someone else’s checkbook.”

Rafe’s eyes moved to yours, and you could see the tension still there. He slowly let out a long breath. The air hissed softly between his teeth as his chest fell, shoulders sagging “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I learned from the best,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

He let out a bitter chuckle, it didn’t hold any joy. “I’m not trying to control everything. I just want to make sure we have time for us before everything else gets in the way.”

You nodded, “I know. But you can’t just expect me to drop everything and go on vacation because you’ve already decided it.”

“I thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he argued, “I’m trying to make time for us, and you’re treating it like it’s a problem.”

You sighed for what it felt like the millionth time that night, rubbing your temples. “It’s not that, baby. I want to be with you. You know that. But I can’t ignore everything else that’s going on.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to find the right thing to say. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. If you don’t want to take the time off, then don’t.”

You blinked at him, taken aback. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re making it seem like I’m asking for something ridiculous.”

You scoffed, frustration taking over again.

“Because to me, it is ridiculous! You don’t get it. You don’t have to think about whether you can afford to take time off, but I do. You’ve never had to think about that stuff.”

His face tightened, jaw clenching as he stared at you like he was trying to stay calm. “And that’s why I’m telling you, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve got us covered. You’re acting like I’m trying to sabotage your career.”

“You’re not listening to me! This promotion isn’t just a paycheck, it’s everything I’ve worked for. I’ve spent years proving I’m good enough, and now you’re asking me to step back like it’s no big deal.”

Rafe crossed his arms, his posture stiff, defensive. “I’m asking for one week. One. Fucking. Week. You act like the world’s gonna end if you take some time for yourself.”

“Because for me, it doesn’t stop! You don’t understand what it’s like—”

He cut you off again, you hated when he did it. “Don’t. Don’t stand there and tell me I don’t understand. You think I don’t get what it’s like to have shit on the line? I’ve been under pressure my whole life.”

You flinched at his words, your eyes narrowing. “This is different. I’ve always had to make sure I could take care of myself.”

His laugh was bitter, almost sarcastic. “Is that what you think this is? You’re my fiancé.”

You frowned, feeling the hurt in his words, but you couldn’t let it go. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m in your shadow, like I’m always gonna be ‘Rafe’s wife’ instead of my own person.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Because every time we talk about this, you make it sound like money is the solution to everything. Like we can just throw cash at our problems and they’ll disappear.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you, his expression darkening. “Because it fucking helps, okay?”

You pinched your eyes closed, “I’m just trying to make sure I don’t lose myself in all of this.”

He let out a harsh breath, his shoulders tense. “Lose yourself? You think I’m trying to take that from you?”

“No,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes. “But it feels like you don’t get why this is so important to me.”

“Are you serious right now?” he cut you off. “You know what, do whatever you want. I’ll just cancel the trip.”

“Rafe—”

“Forget it,” he said, already turning away, heading for the door. “Goodnight.”

He didn't even slam the door.

You sat down on the bed, your head in your hands, trying to calm down. You glance at your phone, thinking about texting him, apologizing maybe. But you weren’t ready for that yet. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You needed to get out of your own head, even just for a little while. You couldn’t stand being in the same room after that argument.

Without thinking much more about it, you grabbed your pillow and the spare blanket from the closet, making your way toward the living bedroom. The couch in there wasn’t as comfortable or as big, but it would give you the distance you needed for the time being. You were pulling back the covers when you heard your bedroom door creak open. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. 

He couldn't stay away longer than five minutes.

“Really?” His voice was low, almost disbelieving. “You’re gonna sleep in here?”

You stayed facing the bed, not turning to look at him. “I can’t do this right now.”

There was a pause, and then you heard him step closer. “No. That’s not how we’re doing this.”

You frowned, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can be pissed at me. You can need space, fine. But you’re not sleeping in here.” His voice was firm, and when you finally turned to look at him, his blue eyes were locked on yours, unwavering.

“Rafe—”

“I’m serious, baby." He moved closer, gently pulling the blanket from your hands. “You’re mad. I get it. But you’re still sleeping in our bed.”

You shook your head, trying to push the blanket back toward him. “I just—”

“No.” His voice softened, but he was still insistent. “I’m not letting you run away from me. We’ll deal with it. But we’re not doing this. You’re not sleeping alone.”

You looked at him and saw the same tiredness, the same frustration, in his face. He held your gaze for a moment longer before reaching out, and taking your hand in his.

“Come on. You belong in our bed.”

There was no fight left in you as you let him pull you back down the hall, back into the warmth of your shared space. As you settled beside him, Rafe reached over, his hand finding yours under the blankets, he traced small, absent patterns on the back of your hand, like you weren’t fighting just ten minutes ago.

He sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I already know you’re capable of handling anything.”

“It’s not about proving it to you,” you admitted, “It’s about proving it to myself. I need to know that no matter what happens—good or bad—I’ve earned it. That I deserve it.”

Rafe was quiet for a couple seconds, his eyes stuck on the ceiling. Then, his grip on your hand tightened slightly,  “I hate this,” he muttered finally.

You turned your head to look at him, “Hate what?”

“This.” He gestured between the two of you with his free hand. “Fighting like this. Making you feel like I’m pulling you in two different directions. Like you have to choose.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You’re not making me choose. I just, I want to build something for myself.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head.

“You think I don’t get that? You think I’m just some spoiled asshole who’s never had to work for anything?” He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more directly. “But I do get it. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be what you need me to be.”

Your heart twisted at the look on his face. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face.

“Every time I look at you,” he murmured, his gaze softening, “I see everything you’ve done to get here. Everything you’ve pushed through. And it kills me, because I feel like I’ve just been dead weight. You spent months holding me together when I was falling apart. I could barely get out of bed some days baby, and you were there, making sure I was eating, making sure I was taking my meds, making sure I didn’t—I know how much you gave up for me.”

“Baby, stop,” you mumbled, the hurt in your chest almost unbearable. It hadn't been easy, but you didn't regret a single thing, wouldn't change anything. You'd do it all over again if you had to.

“No.” His voice was firm, “I hate that I put you through that. That I made you carry all that weight when you should’ve been focusing on yourself, your career. Hell, I wasn’t even there for you when you got promoted, because I was too busy trying to keep my shit together. And now I want to make up for that.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, feeling the way his jaw unclenched under your touch. “You don’t have to make up for anything. You were going through something, and I wanted to be there for you.”

“I know you did,” he said softly, “But that’s why I’m doing this. I’m trying to be the guy you deserve—the guy who makes things easier for you, who makes you feel like you can breathe again.” He shook his head, teasing just a little, “But every time I try, it feels like I’m just reminding you of all the ways I’ve let you down.”

You blinked back the sudden tears. “You haven’t let me down. I need to find a balance. Between us and—” You gestured vaguely around you, trying to explain everything you were feeling. “And everything else.”

“I get that,” he murmured, leaning in closer until his forehead rested against yours. “But I also need you to let me in. Let me help you. Not because I want to throw money at it, but because I love you, and I want to see you happy. Not burnt out and exhausted.”

His voice broke a little on the last word, and you felt your initial stubbornness crumbling. “I know,” You squeezed your eyes shut, “I know. I just don’t want to lose everything I’ve been working for. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in us that I forget who I am outside of this.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his fingers brushing along your jaw.

“You’re not going to lose yourself, okay? Not with me. You’re always going to be you. Even when you’re stressed and stubborn and driving me up the wall.” His lips quirked in a small, sad smile. “I’ll still be here. I just want to have a little time with you before life pulls us in a million directions again.”

You leaned into him, pressing your face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. It wasn’t that you didn’t want his help. You just needed to do this one thing for youself. You moved closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered earnestly, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t want to spend time with you. I do. It’s just hard to balance everything.”

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to figure it out. You wanted to compromise, because that's what you two always did.

“I’ll take the time off,” You felt him move beside you, his eyes on you now, curious but cautious. “But… I need a little time. Can we plan the trip for a couple of months from now? Once things settle down with work?”

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes searching your face. “You’d do that?”

You nodded, lifting your head. “I know I’ve been all over the place about this, but I get that we need time together. I just can’t drop everything right now. But in two months, I’ll be ready. We can go wherever you want.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He shifted onto his side, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you said, smiling back at him. “We’ll go. No work emails, no distractions. Just us.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his fingers tracing along your jaw. “Two months, huh?”

You looked up at him, rolling your eyes lightly. “Yes, two months. And I’m going to hold that ‘no work emails’ rule, for you too.”

He chuckled, his lips curving into a genuine smile this time. “I figured.”

You swat at his chest lightly. “I’m serious. I want this trip to be for us. I need it to be something that we’re both looking forward to—not just you dragging me away because you think I’m overworking.”

“I know. I promise when we do go, it’ll be perfect. Wherever you want. No distractions.”

“Good,” you whispered, resting your head back on his shoulder. You listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. This was the peace after the storm, the moment when everything felt like it was falling into place again.

Rafe’s hand gently traced patterns on your arm, and he pressed a soft kiss to your head, “I’m proud of you. For everything. The promotion, the way you’ve been handling all of this. I’m proud to call you mine.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you, baby,” you murmured. “That means more to me than you know.”

He smiled, “Just don’t ever think you have to choose between me and your dreams, okay? I want you to have it all. I want us to have it all.”

You nodded, the last of your resistance melting away. “I know. And I want us to have it all, too. Together.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “’Cause I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

[eiralunaire]

Damian Wayne/Reader

Warning: pregnant Reader, soft...

It was a quiet afternoon in Gotham, and Damian and Reader had decided to go to the supermarket together to fill the fridge with the groceries Damian had meticulously planned out. His list was precise, detailed, and full of items that would ensure a balanced diet for his three-month pregnant wife. Fresh fruits, vegetables, proteins, and iron and calcium-rich products were all carefully noted to ensure Reader was well-nourished.

As they strolled through the aisles, Damian maintained his usual protective stance. He had a hand on the small of Reader’s back, gently guiding her, watching to make sure she didn’t make any sudden movements or overexert herself. Every time she stopped to look at something on the shelves, he watched her closely, making sure she wasn’t going to try to carry anything.

“Do you fancy anything in particular?” he asked her as he scanned the list.

“Raspberry ice cream,” she replied with a mischievous smile, almost as if she knew it wasn’t on the list.

Damian raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help but smile at her whim. He knew that during pregnancy, such small desires were inevitable, and although he preferred to strictly follow the list, he couldn't deny her something so simple either.

"Wait here. I'll go get it."

Damian headed to the frozen goods area with his firm, efficient step, quickly searching for the tub of ice cream his wife wanted. He found the raspberry one in a matter of seconds and, satisfied with his choice, turned to return to the aisle where he had left Reader.

But when he arrived, what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. In front of him was an old woman, probably in her 70s or 80s, pushing Reader with contempt. The woman, with her wrinkled face and an expression of disdain, clearly didn't realize or care that Reader was pregnant. Damian watched as Reader slightly lost her balance under the push, and his heart stopped.

In an instant, the world seemed to stop. All of his training as a Robin activated in his mind, but this time it wasn't a villain or a criminal he had to face; it was the well-being of his wife and son that was at stake. In less than a second, Damian was beside Reader, his arm holding her firmly and securely before she could falter any further.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his green eyes filled with a concern he couldn't hide.

Reader, though a little surprised by the push, nodded, her breathing slightly accelerated. "I'm fine, Damian. It was just a push...

But for Damian, it wasn't "just a push." ​​His gaze hardened as he turned to the old woman. The control he always had over his emotions was crumbling.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said in a cold voice, his tone low but filled with a dangerous authority. The old woman looked at him with contempt.

“Young people have no manners these days,” she replied dismissively, “if you’re pregnant, you should stay home instead of blocking the hallway.”

Damian set his jaw, his body visibly tensing. Despite his training to stay calm in tense situations, his patience was wearing thin. His entire being screamed to protect Reader, and the fact that someone had put her at risk, even minimally, was something he couldn’t tolerate.

“She has every right to be here,” he replied, his voice firm but icy. “And if you can’t respect that, then I suggest you step aside.”

The older woman looked at him in disbelief, and though she seemed to want to say something more, she decided not to confront the young man who was clearly in no mood to argue. She snorted before turning and walking away.

Damian turned back to Reader, his expression still worried. “You shouldn’t have been left alone,” he said, more to himself than to her. He knew it was unreasonable to be so overprotective, but the thought that something could have happened to her was eating away at him.

Reader gently took her hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Damian, I’m fine. It was just a grumpy old lady.”

He looked at her, a mix of guilt and frustration in his eyes. “It’s not just that. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Not to you or the baby.”

Reader smiled, understanding the fear he carried with him. “I know, but I’m okay. We’re okay. You can’t protect me from everything,” she said sweetly, caressing his cheek with her other hand.

Damian exhaled, trying to calm the internal storm that was brewing inside him. “Still, you won’t be left alone in a public place again,” he stated seriously.

She let out a small laugh, knowing that, although he could be overly protective at times, he did it out of love. “Okay, but the ice cream…”

Damian looked at the tub of ice cream he still held in his hand, and finally, a slight smile appeared on his lips. “Here’s your treat,” he said, handing it to her.

Despite what had happened, the love between them was still palpable, and although Damian would always be protective, Reader knew that love was what made him the man she loved.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another one from pregnant Reader because i like the previous one.

[eat-limes-bitches]

I Will Always Come When You Call

PAIRING: Female Reader x FATWS Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY:  When reader accidentally calls Bucky, he comes running to find out what’s wrong.

WARNINGS: ANGST, mentions of depression, fluff

Word Count: 1168

A/N: I disappeared from posting because, well, I had no will to write, I was in a rut. This is purely self soothing at this point because this is what I need right now. I promise that I have updates for the series soon, I just needed this first. 

Enjoy!! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

It was the same feeling, day in, day out, the constant numbing sadness for a loss that never happened. The monsters that emerged from the deepest parts of her mind and wrapped her consciousness in toxic thoughts. People always said the same things, “Get some air, it won’t do you any good being cooped up.” “Take a break, you’re just burnt out from working too hard.” That was her problem, she wasn’t working. She couldn’t. It's hard to do anything when you barely have the will to get out of bed, let alone work. She stared at the glowing numbers from the clock on her nightstand, indicating she was, once again, still awake at an unreasonable hour. She glanced at the dark screen of her phone that was resting on the bed next to her. Why was it there again? Oh, right. She was gonna call him. The corner of her lips twitched upwards at the thought. Bucky had always been there, they had been there for each other. After everything that they went through together, with Thanos, the Flag Smashers, his amends, they were together through it all and now that everything had calmed down, she was struggling to stay afloat. Unlocking her phone, her thumb hovered over the call button. What was she gonna say? “Hey Buck, I know it's 2:30 in the morning and nothing is wrong but I need you.” She shook her head. It was stupid, if either of them were to call the other at this time it should be him. She had no reason and no explanation as to why she was feeling this way. 

Letting out a groan she leaned back and thumped her head against the headboard closing her eyes as she sunk a little deeper into her mind. “Doll? Are you ok?” Her eyes snapped open and down to her phone. Shit, she accidentally hit the dial. “Y/N are you ok? You’re worrying me sweets.” She shook her head slightly, “Yeah, sorry Buck.” She quickly hung up, cutting off whatever it was that Bucky was about to say, and throwing her phone to the other side of the bed. She hated feeling like this, this hopelessness that seemed to seep in through every pore on her skin and settle deep within her bones, like how a chill sets in after getting caught in the pouring rain. She was so deep within her mind that she didn’t notice the man that entered her flat. She didn’t hear him calling out to her and asking her where she was. Eventually the door to her bedroom opened, causing her to snap out of her trance in alarm, only to relax again when she saw Bucky standing there with a worried look on his face. 

“God, there you are. You scared me to death, sweets.” He murmured as he crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed. She stared at him with a puzzled expression on her face, tracing her eyes across his features. His hair was messy, shoes missing, probably at the front door, dressed in a pair of sweats and a dark blue t-shirt that highlighted to worried look in his eyes. She continued to stare for a moment before she finally spoke, “You came..” Bucky blinked, confusion coloring his features as he replied, “Of course I did, you called.” She froze at his words, surprise seeping into her eyes as she looked at him, trying to decide if he was serious when he broke the silence, “What’s going on, darling?” She shook her head, looking away from him, “I- I honestly don’t know, and that’s the problem.” She melted as he placed an arm around her, pulled her into his side, a gentle sign for her to continue. “It’s just- god I’m not okay.” She leaned to rest her head against his shoulder as she struggled to find the words, “I.. I’m just not myself. My jaw hurts from grinding my teeth, I can’t sleep at night, not because I’m not tired, no, I’m exhausted. It’s like I’m too tired to sleep. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time. I’m spiraling, and I couldn’t even begin to tell you why.” Once she finished, Bucky let out a sigh and pulled her further into his embrace, as if holding her would shield her mind from the toxic thoughts that tried to take her from him. “Doll, you should have told me sooner.” He scolded softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She shrugged, “I didn’t want to worry or bother you. You’ve come so far in your own healing that I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

 Bucky shook his head, “Y/N, look at me.” He placed hid flesh hand under her chin to raise her gaze so that she was looking at him, “You mean the whole fucking world to me, do you know that?” She tried to look away as color flooded her cheeks but he wasn’t having it, “I think of you every day. You’re my first thought when I wake up and the last one before I try to go to sleep. I want to help you, and before you even start with the whole, ‘you don’t have to help me’ bullshit, I want to help you.” He paused, moving the hand under her chin to thread his fingers through her hair as he looked over her weary face. “You don’t have to do this all on your own, my love, let me help.” 

His words were a soft gentle caress against the opened wounds on her soul, something she didn’t realize she needed until she had a taste of it, and with the sugary sweet words filling the holes, the negative began to suffocate, trying desperately to escape but when entrapped in his honey coated words, they just died out. She nodded her head before she spoke, “Ok…ok.” “What do you need darling, not tomorrow, not in an hour, right now, what do you need?” Bucky asked. She traced the intricate lines on his vibranium hand that was situated around her middle before she spoke, “Can you just, hold me? Just for a little bit? I haven’t been able to sleep well for three day a-” Bucky cut her off by pulling her to lie down with him, tucking her head into his chest before reaching over and turning off the lamp on the nightstand. He wrapped his arms back around her and pressed kisses along her hairline until he reached her ear where he whispered, “Get some sleep sweets. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Wrapped up in Bucky’s warmth it wasn’t long before her eyes began to grow heavy, still she managed to move her head back to look over Bucky’s face as she whispered, “I still can’t believe you came.” Bucky leaned forward pressing his forehead against hers replying quietly, “I will always come when you call.”

[mayearies]

BAD HABIT miles g. morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY. miles can’t communicate. he has trouble recognizing his emotions, rio knows this. uncle aaron knows this. you don’t know this. you don’t really know anything is wrong, but you always wish him the best. but you can only wish upon the same star so many times until something changes. CONTENTS. miles being head-over-heels, mentioned break up, rio worrying for her son, uncle aaron being against the whole relationship thing, mentioned meeting his parents AUTHORS NOTE. haii i’m not back but ill feed you once every few months also format ib: luvjunie

rio .

mother knows best. we all know this. a mother knows when she sits on the couch and her 15-year-old sits next to her and starts going on about his girlfriend, how he’s everything she’s ever wanted that he’s in love.

but, a mother also knows her son. “miles, let me ask you something.” she sighed, “how much does she know about you? you tell me all these things about her, does she know the same?”

he paused, taking a soft breath, “i mean, no. but she doesn’t seem like she wants to know all that much.”

her brow creased, “if she’s dating you obviously she wants to know more about you. ¿de qué hablas?”

“yeah, i know, but she doesn’t really ask me.” his brows raised then creased a little.

confusion and concern.

“i’ll tell you one thing, girls tend to not say a lot of stuff that’s on their minds,” she cleared her throat, “they want you to tell them first. it takes a while for them to be comfortable with you.”

miles sighed and bit his cheek. now he was doubting you weren’t comfortable with him. you had only been dating a month.

“i just… want you opening up more. your uncle does too.” her voice turned softer. now miles felt a bit bad because he thought she was being unreasonable with the whole uncomfortable thing.

plus, uncle aaron knows he can’t open up like that to her. he barely has time for his hobbies because of this whole… prowler thing. so what the hell can he talk about? not to mention he can’t even talk to his mother about this because she doesn’t know that either.

“talk to her about comics-con!” miles groaned when she said that. “ma. no.”

rio pouted, “you gotta open up at some point, miles. i mean it.” she noticed one of his braids was slightly undone and braided it for him, “you’re like a shell now. i worry about you.”

miles kept quiet, after a bit he leaned on her shoulder and kept his eyes straight. “i know.”

they didn’t say anything else. rio knew miles knew already. he mumbled a ‘sorry’ and they left it at that with a kiss to his head. there wasn’t a point in talking anymore.

aaron .

“i’m tellin’ you, this isn’t gon’ work out well for you, man.” he warned, “someone’s gon’ end up getting hurt. both you, and her.”

“not like you liked her that much anyway.” miles muttered under his breath, sitting on the couch ans watching the news. just the same thing every week. sinister six this, sinister six that… god damn.

“i never said that, i just don’t want you making a mistake,” he huffed.

aaron was more rough around the edges than his mother, that’s for sure. he didn’t hate him but he was so serious sometimes for no reason. takes part in why he doesn’t talk about this stuff with him. not like he has a father figure to turn to anyway.

“how do you know i’ll make a mistake?” miles felt a bit more defensive now.

“because that’s how it goes—you fall in love, think everything is great, something goes wrong, everything crashes, you move on. it’s a cycle.” he paused before saying this next sentence. “how do you think your ma’s marriage went? think about it.”

miles softed a bit, but he was still a bit irritated. “you didn’t have to go that far.”

he knew that. but it was a perfect example of the worst thing that could have happened. miles sighed, sinking into the couch and turning off the tv. there was tension, and it filled the silence.

“you’re saying i shouldn’t be in love? it’s that bad to like someone?” he kept his eyes on the ceiling.

aaron sighed, finding a better approach to it. “be in love all you want. tell her all about you. your hobbies, what you like. you know how closed off you are, man.” he paused, “just… don’t tell her too much. don’t make a stupid mistake.”

“…alright.”

present day .

miles walked through the apartment door, looking the same as normal. but rio sensed something was off. “qué pasó?”

“nothing. hi, ma.” he kissed her forehead before walking off down the hallway. he didn’t really act like this. his mom could always tell the difference.

“how are you and your little girlfriend doing?” he chucked lightly, trying to make light.

“oh, uh… we broke up.” there was a long silence, “like, today.”

rio was not entirely surprised, but she couldn’t help but ask why. miles shrugged, not facing her.

“just because.”

@ MAYEARIES ‘24

[totheblood]

hii love can you write hcs of ellie williams in protective gf mode

a/n: of course! thank u for the request <;3 p.s little bonus ai audio at the end (ellie yelling at u lol, ellie telling u to drink up, ellie asking u whats wrong)

protective gf ellie

it’s no secret that ellie is extremely protective of the people around her, but when it came to you it was a whole other story

she’s protective of you out in the world, if you’re on patrol together she will always enter new areas before you, scoping it out before giving you the okay to come in

“it’s safe to come in, babe.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re still alive, so where’s my thank you?”

she would definitely try not to baby you since she’s positive you can hold your own (it’s very hot to her how badass you are on patrol) but sometimes she just can’t control it

she knows she’s immune so she would much rather take her chances than have you be bit, but you don't know that so you get into little quips about why she doesn’t let you fight infected

“i don’t see why i can’t clear out the area with you ellie, i feel like i’m not pulling my weight.”

“it’s not safe, you could get bit.”

“SO COULD YOU!”

“but i won’t.”

she will always check the sturdiness of the floor before telling you to follow her (she’s fallen through too many floors to take her chances with you)

when you do end up getting hurt on patrol she gets mad

like unreasonably angry at you… she’s working on it

“what the fuck were you thinking?! going in there gun’s blazing, you didn’t know how many of them there were!” she would scold you while tending to your wounds, it was honestly very confusing

“i’m sorry, i jus-“

“don’t do it again.” she would say it in her sternest voice before kissing the gauze where she patched you up

when it comes to protecting you from other people in jackson ellie was known for being ruthless

a guy hitting on you at the diner? she would slide into the booth next to you and wrap her arm around your waist with an exaggerated, “hey baby.”

someone who won’t leave you alone when you’re obviously uncomfortable? she would immediately step in between the two of you with her finger pointed in the guys face, “hey back the fuck up!”

if she ever saw you crying, all hell would break loose

inside her rage would be boiling, but on the outside she was running up to you, putting your face in her hands, scanning your body for any injuries, and asking you with the most tender voice, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“these guys would not stop making fun of me on my way home.” you would explain in between sniffles “just got so overwhelmed, but i’m okay.”

“who? what did they look like? what were they saying?”

“ellie, don’t do anything.”

“i won’t, just tell me. wanna make sure those assholes shovel horse shit for a month.”

after you would tell her she’d press a kiss on your forehead and stay with you until you fell asleep

after she would go out and find the guys who made you cry and beat them up (violence isn’t the answer but this is ellie and she’s a sucker for revenge)

ellie’s actually not above punching anyone for you, she just would never let you see that side of her

a part of her also wants to protect you from herself and what she’s capable of

so whenever she’s not doing mentally well she would seperate herself from you so she doesn’t lash out at you

she hates the look on your face when anyone yells at you and she knows she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she was on the receiving end

she also always walks you home, she likes when you call her a gentleman and kiss her goodnight

she’s also protective of you when you’re not feeling well, absolutely ignoring her own health to make sure you’re eating, sleeping, and getting enough water

“c’mon baby, drink up.” she would coo as she gently sat you up in your bed, her protective hand resting on the small of you back while you drank

she would stroke your hair as you slept, constantly checking your body temperature as she waited for your fever to break

on the flipside, whenever she was sick she wouldn’t let you around her

you would be banging on her door with homemade soup being like “ellie, open this goddamn door!”

and her sick ass would say “no! don't wanna get you sick!” through her stuffy nose

“fine, but i’m leaving the soup outside your door, please make sure you eat it and drink water!”

“thank you.”

“okay, bye, i love you!”

“i love you more”

she’s always doting on you, making sure your happy and satisfied

if you’re eating together she would make sure you are full before she finishes her plate just in case you want more

at community events her eyes would always return to you even when she’s in conversation with someone else

“she’s fine y’know? just the spring dance.” jesse would say after her looking over at you for the tenth time in their 15 minute conversation

“i know. i just like looking at her.” it wasn’t a lie, but she was still just making sure you were okay

ai audios:

[ccfever]

Why do you support someone who gives no fucks about black woman who are just trying to have fun playing basketball. Cc has white privilege and I assume you do too

lmfaooooooo i’m not white and i don’t even live in the USA. caitlin has credited many black women for paving the way for her to be able to be in the position she’s in right now. difference is she mentions them by name. her basketball hero is literally maya moore. she went on national television and paid tribute to sheryl swoopes, lisa leslie, dawn staley, and maya moore for breaking barriers and being icons in women’s sports. she continuously, on record, have said that the wnba have many women in the league who are deserving of recognition and praise, and she has never took any credit for any of the growth happening in women’s basketball right now. i’d link you all these statements, but i have a life and don’t have the time.

asked about the fever’s first charter flight: i think it will be better if everyone has it, the product on the floor will only be better.

not once did she ever make that about herself.

she defended angel reese after the backlash from the 2023 championship game.

she defended chennedy carter and said the flagrant foul only happened because of competitiveness, and praised her for having a good season.

she denounced the racist and misogynistic people who are using her as a proxy for their agendas. i understand that she is not the most vocal player when it comes to social justice issues. does that immediately make her a racist person? why?

she’s never presented herself as a spokesperson, and to be quite honest with you, it would do everyone good if people stopped banging on caitlin clark’s proverbial door demanding statements and speeches, and start LISTENING to the many women in the wnba who are actually VOCAL, and have EXPERIENCED being marginalized. lift up and shine light on these women.

she has never done anything wrong herself, but you label her as a racist person. that’s disgusting to me because there are actual racist people out there. the chicago tribune editorial team. freaks on the internet. they’re everywhere and they’re the ones being racist but they don’t get any substantial pushback because caitlin clark is the one who takes the heat.

not gonna lie, you calling me a white person offended me in levels you cannot imagine. my country was colonized by americans, we are still suffering from the effects of everything done to us by predominantly white countries. i have a bias towards white people – i don’t tend to like them, especially if they’re not self aware.

you accusing me of having white privilege when you don’t even know who i am is rich. you don’t know me, and you don’t know what i see everyday. i live in literal hell. block me and move on with your life. this isn’t a fight you want to pick.

edit: it’s okay not to like her. it’s okay to feel like she isn’t doing enough. it’s okay to stop supporting her because of that. but being so extreme and calling her a racist person is unreasonable. and calling me racist and white? that’s just stupid. have some nuance.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Thirty

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 30

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] Part Thirty [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You blink at the woman for a few long seconds, trying to comprehend her words. “Excuse me? Did you just say Lord Dale has called off the wedding? Our wedding?”

“I…” The maid is at a loss for words in the face of your incredulity. She swallows. “Yes, my lady.”

There’s a rushing sound in your ears, like wind roaring. You stay perfectly still, your face blank as you try to think. That is not possible. It’s not. How could he do something like that? Why would he? You’d dealt with so many surprises, jumped over every obstacle, and handled every challenge. Why instead did you feel as though you had survived a trip at sea only to find your ship crashing into the pier while within sight of home? You feel numb.

Perhaps you are making some sort of expression because the woman grows paler. “I’m sure it is simply pre-wedding jitters, my lady,” she hurries to reassure you. “Lord Archibald will have him seeing sense before you can blink.”

“Best to continue getting you ready,” Ms Dearden says as she lays out your corded underskirts. You appreciate her practiced dismissal even if you fear there’s more at play here than she’s aware of. “Young men these days always get cold feet. He’ll be over it soon enough.”

“Yes, of course.” Your own voice seems distant to your ears, but your words are enough for Callalily’s maid to resume work on your hair. At some point she finishes and you’re helped into your underskirts. Your mind stays blank as you try to conceive of reasons for him to do such a thing beyond tiring of you and this whole facade. Distant imaginings of what your life would be like without the wedding crumble to fog. 

You’ve been so committed and focused on today that the news feels nonsensical more than alarming. How could the wedding not be happening? Did you just speak with your sisters? Has every moment of the last few weeks been in service of it? Are you not now suddenly dressed in your lovely yellow wedding gown? The person in the hand mirror looks as though they are marrying today.

The door flings open and Steward Bilmont hurries in despite the reproach from the women in the room at both his presence and the dramatics of his entrance. 

You only need to look at his face to understand that the situation with Dale has not improved since the first maid broke it to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but something about your countenance, or perhaps your lack of reaction, must inform him that you know something of the situation.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, my lady,” Bilmont says, wringing his hands. “He’s not been this unreasonable in weeks. Lord Archibald has refused to put a stop to anything, but Lord Dale refuses to see reason. He’s barred the door to his chambers after Lord Archibald wouldn’t accept his words.”

“I see.” With careful fingers you put down the small hand mirror and begin to stand, adjusting your skirts as you do so.

It’s Miss Adir who asks, her voice filled with trepidation, “My lady?” 

“Excuse me,” you say, an undeniable calm spreading through your veins, as you cross the room towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Steward Bilmont asks as you brush by him.

You realize your decision as you reply, “To speak with my betrothed. Please continue preparations without me.”

The maid who brought the news is the one who speaks up, as your hand closes around the door knob. “My lady, I don’t think—”

“Continue without me,” you cut her off, eyes snapping, because finally some emotion has made itself known to you and it is anger. You’ve worked so hard and been through so much. Dale thinks he can just put an end to it all mere hours before you’re to be wed? No.

“My lady…” Bilmont tries, his hand settling gently on your arm. He’s almost wincing, the look in his eyes resigned. As though he thought everything had been going too well and this was the inevitable shoe that dropped. 

You shake his hand off. “If Lord Dale wishes to call off our wedding,” some of that anger finally bleeds into your voice and you see the surprise in Bilmont’s eyes, “he shall tell me so to my face. Get out of my way.”

He obligingly steps back, hands hanging back at his sides. You don’t bother to observe the others' reactions, opening the door quickly, and letting it shut heavily behind you.

You walk briskly down the hall and towards the Northridge family bedrooms. No one else, servant or noble alike, crosses your path as you head that way. Not until you’re closer. You hear shouting and decide to peek around the corner, wanting to get the scope of the situation you’re walking into. 

“—utter foolishness!” Grandfather is shouting at Dale’s closed door with two guards flanking him. He bangs his fist on the door for good measure. “Do you wish for me to find your Grandmother? I’ve kindly not informed her of your idiocy, but I shall have to if you persist!”

There’s no reply from the other side of the door, not even a sound. Grandfather rattles the door knob to no avail, but doesn’t try anything further with the solid wood door.

He groans in frustration and turns to the guards. “I want to know the instant he leaves this room and if he does not within the hour, I shall have to inform Lady Deidre as promised.”

“Yes, my lord,” the guards chorus looked properly cowed by the threat, even if it isn't aimed at them.

Grandfather turns dramatically enough you see more of the original Dale in him than you thought possible and storms off. The guards take up posts on either side of the door, not baring it, but still present enough that you stay where you are. You’ve no desire to speak to them or to shout at Dale with them nearby.

You frown, unsure why but something doesn’t sit right with you the longer you look down the silent corridor. It seems…empty, or perhaps still, in a manner that makes you feel as if you are not where you should be. Not that your presence is unwanted, but as if you are lost. 

You study the scene more closely and find your eyes drifting towards the bright sunlight streaming through the windows and the faint light coming from under Dale’s bedroom door. After a second, you realize what is wrong with the light and shadow—both are completely still. Before, the maid had said both of them were shouting and you’ve never heard this Dale raise his voice except in a physical fight. If he were truly upset, or at least strongly emotional, there should be some evidence in the shadows, some unnatural movement.

You chance another glance down the corridor, but it looks utterly ordinary. As your gaze sweeps from further down where Grandfather disappears around a corner and then back closer to yourself they snag on the stairway down towards the studies and other meeting rooms. There’s no movement, but the shadows are deep and dark. There are no windows there, that stairway is more utilitarian than for show like the grand staircases in other places throughout the house, so that’s plenty of reason for the darkness, but…

You move as quietly and fluidly as you can towards that staircase, hoping not to attract the guards notice. You don’t want to talk to anyone except Dale. You don’t know what Grandfather would try to say to you given he is clearly trying to keep this news contained. He stopped attempting to prove anything with you since the attack, but you’re still not completely sure of what he thinks of you. Keeping your skirts just high enough off the floor and grateful your house slippers are soft and quiet, you make it to the stairs without the guards' notice.

Your footsteps are nearly silent as you hastily make your way down the flight of stairs. You’ve never given much thought to the amount of light that fills it, but surely it wasn’t this dark in previous mornings. Or is that simply your imagination? Is it just your hope that it means you can find Dale and talk some sense into him?

You peek out at the bottom, looking for anyone in this area of the house who might question one of the couple getting married wandering about alone. No one is present. An eerie silence permeates the corridor and like the staircase, it seems darker than it should be. You step out, eyes on the window that lets light in, but seems outnumbered by shadows.

Dale’s personal study is off a smaller side corridor from this hallway, in its own small tower. You think the upper floor might connect to his bedroom. Then there is the underground room, the real reason you believe the original Dale had requested his current quarters and this study.

There’s an oppressive aura that thickens the air as soon as you turn the corner and it builds the closer you get to his study’s door. You imagine that's partially responsible for the lack of others in this area, which in some ways you’re grateful for. You also manage to draw on its presence as fuel for your anger at such obvious overflow from his nature. The shadows under the door ripple, as if it were night and a lighted candle was guttering in the breeze, unremarkable except for the fact that it's closer to noon.

Cautiously, you reach out for the door knob. Grasping it firmly in your hand, you find that it's not locked as you had feared. The knob turns without effort and the door swings inside to reveal Dale’s study. The flickering shadows solidify as you step inside, eyes searching for Dale. 

You find him quickly enough, a trunk half packed of books next to him. Somehow you don’t think they are being gathered for your wedding trip. He’s by the window, back to you, but you can see tension in every line of his body. All the breath desserts you at the sight of him. All the words you could say dry up in your mouth. The door shuts with an audible click behind you.

“WOULD—” Dale whirls, his frustrated voice cuts off the second his eyes land on you. Abruptly all the anger in his face leaves him. Instead he practically deflates, merely gaping at you. To your surprise, he spins away from you. “What are you doing here?” he asks, voice pitched higher than usual. “I thought we were not to see each other until—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his shoulders slumping.

You take another few steps into the room and clear your throat. “Yes, well, I’m fairly certain that the betrotheds laying eyes on one the morning of the wedding is of no consequence if there isn’t to be a wedding, hm?” You’re grateful that you’ve rediscovered some of your anger and your frustration to draw on for the strength to weather this conversation.

“I…” Dale can’t seem to think of an adequate response even as he refuses to turn around. 

Your heart constricts in your chest at this confirmation. “So it’s true?” You hadn’t realized how much you were hoping despite all the evidence to the contrary that once you found Dale he’d explain how it was all one big misunderstanding. “You’ve called off our wedding.”

He leans his head against the wall and says nothing.

“Dammit, Dale!” The words jump out of you, louder than you’ve ever spoken to Dale. “Look at me,” you say, your voice breaking. “If you’re going to do this, you’re going to look at me as you do so.”

Slowly, like a man condemned, he turns. Dale swallows, looking profoundly guilty. He murmurs your name, but you refuse to let his soft voice sway you and merely stare straight back at him. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“My reasons are complex, but unchangeable.” His words are rote and his voice wooden. You imagine he said something like this to Grandfather. “I apologize.”

“I don’t understand,” you say as plainly as you can, tired of talking around topics and pretending to be sure when you aren’t. “Complex? How complex can they be that you won’t even enumerate them for me now. Please explain, justify, anything.” Dale just stands there and that anger surges through your blood. You take another step forward, your voice as stern as you can make it, “You owe it to me. Tell me why you are calling off our future.”

“I…” Dale starts before his blue eyes meet yours squarely for the first time since you arrived and he appears to shrink in on himself. He sighs a deep sigh, looking weary. “I could say any number of reasons, but you’re correct. They’re just excuses.” He pulls himself back up and braces himself. “In truth, I simply cannot bear to deceive you any longer.”

“Deceive me? About what? What can you not have told me that would cause our wedding to be canceled?” Panicked, wild scenarios begin to fly through your mind. “Did you marry someone else on your travels and they’ve arrived today? Have you been caught smuggling? Are you a wanted man? Did something happen this morning?”

Dale looks taken aback. He blinks at you. “Wha-? No, no—none of that.”

You feel some exasperation mixing with your frustration as he continues to talk around whatever he’s worried about. You’ve done this dance every day for weeks now and you are so, so tired of it. “Then what? I thought,” you swallow, hating how small your voice has gotten. You clear your throat and try again. “I thought you wanted this—wanted our marriage.”

“I do!” The words burst out of him, surprising you. How can he say so when he’s the one who is ruining it. He continues more quietly, as if the volume was what shocked you, “I do, but you don’t know…” He trails off again, looking away.

“Then tell me,” you plead, taking another step closer. Only another step or two and you could touch him. You could try in vain to keep him from leaving you. 

“I,” he starts, looking at you and away again. “A few weeks ago, there was a… I mean to say that I,” he begins again, obviously having difficulty getting the words out. At least you can see he’s truly making the attempt this time. “Well, not me, but he…” Is this something the original Dale had done that was coming back to ruin everything? That was what you hoped for, in a strange way, because at least it would mean that this Dale still might want you. That whatever prompted this was out of his control. That maybe you could fix whatever it was. “I care about you,” he finally says, his eyes bright, bright blue as they meet yours squarely once more and your breath catches at the genuine sentiment in his voice, “more than I ever thought I would, but I’m not who you think I am.” He takes another deep breath and says bluntly, “Dale of Northridge died weeks ago and then I possessed his body.”

Everything seems to screech to a halt as he stares at you, his eyes pleading with you to understand. Aside from the relief at finally hearing him say it out loud, you don’t. Understand, that is. “Yes…” you say slowly, nodding. “And…?” You’re still waiting for him to complete the thought. To tell you what he’s been building to. Prompting him seemed to help before. “Did you eat someone a few weeks ago and have just now been discovered? Did something you forgot come back to cause problems now?”

“What?” Now Dale looks nearly as confused as you feel. It makes you want to scream in frustration because he’s the one doing this—he has to be the one that knows what is going on. “No, I don’t think you understand.” He talks more slowly, like you’re not hearing his words right. “I’m not human, I’m a demon.” He once again appears to brace himself for your reaction, but you still don’t get it.

Maybe you aren’t hearing him right, but that’s never happened before. Is this some new demonic power or collateral influence? “Yes, I know,” you reply just as deliberately. You enunciate as you ask, “But what did you do that means we can not be wed?”

“You must not be comprehending my words.” He seems to be aware of the issue, getting frustrated himself. He runs his fingers through his long dark hair before he takes on a consoling tone, “I know it is a great shock to find out your fiance is now a demon—”

“What?” You stare at him because is that what he thinks you are getting caught on? You put your hands on your hips and can’t say anything except, “Of course, I know you’re a demon.”

“What?” He leans back, eyes wide. “No.” Dale shakes his head. “How could you know that?”

“Did you think you’ve been doing an exemplary job of hiding it?” The response bursts out of you before you can help it. Because no, this cannot be the conversation you’re having. It can’t be. “How about we begin with how the human Dale was obviously interested in demonology and black market dealing. How excited he was the night before this,” you gesture to Dale’s entire body, “happened. How sick you were after and your memory issues. The fact that you occasionally have more eyes than is proper and your influence on shadows and the claws. You’ve had a tail at times, for stars’ sake!”

“Oh.” Dale’s voice is small and his eyes big as he stares down at you, clearly at a loss for words.

You’ve seemingly found a well of words with which to rebuke him. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to conceal your nature?” You take a step forward, unable to contain your ire and incredulity. He takes one back. “It is not as easy as you must believe to distract people from wriggling shadows and additional eyes and all the strange things you say. Did you really believe I didn’t know? That you were hiding it that well?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Dale sounds more flustered than you’ve ever heard him. “Humans are so oblivious most of the time!”

“Not that oblivious!”

Dale throws his hands up. “Well, no one’s instigated a purge, have they? And Grandfather and Grandmother don’t know, do they?”

Your heart rate is slowly returning to normal and you grudgingly admit, “No. Although Grandfather did think I’d cursed you for a couple weeks.”

“He thought you cursed me?” 

“Yes!” you reply, exasperated that he didn’t even know. “After the hunt, where you did light knows what with the boar, he became convinced that I had cursed you or ensnared you with my ‘potions’. Perhaps while you were still recovering from your supposed illness. As a supposed practitioner of dark ritual or maybe even a summoner, he kept trying to exorcise me, which I had to make sure didn’t accidentally affect you.” When Dale just looks at you, obviously hearing this or putting the pieces together for the first time you can’t help, but feel as if you might be the one who has lost their mind. “You must remember when he practically threw a glass of holy water on us?”

Dale’s brow furrows. “…I did think that was a bit odd.”

You snort. “Yes, I would wager so.” Slowly, you realize you're laughing. You put a hand to your mouth but all it does is muffle the sound. Dale looks newly worried but you can’t stop. “I can’t believe you didn’t know that I knew.” Collapsing into a chair, you cover your face in your hands as you try to regain your composure. 

How is this happening? How had you managed to get so far along without realizing he didn’t know that you knew? Who does that say more about him or you?

After a moment or two, you sense him near you and he asks, “Are you alright?” He sounds so concerned, like he’s still worried the knowledge of what he is, even if it isn’t new to you, might be capable of breaking your mind or whatever he feared would happen.

“Yes, yes,” you finally sit back up, blinking in the light as you attempt to reassure him. “I will be. I simply need a moment.” Dale hesitates from where he’s leaning over you before turning to fetch a cup of water. Haltingly, he holds out to you. “Thank you,” you say as you wipe away the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes while laughing.

You sip it carefully as you pull the tattered remains of your composure around yourself once more. Dale watches you take the first couple of sips before he begins to pace in obvious agitation. He’s clearly waiting for you to finish the glass before saying whatever is so clearly on his mind. You’re content to take your time and make him wait after everything he’s put you through, seemingly without even realizing what you were doing.

After a minute, you set the glass down deliberately and Dale comes to a stop in front of you. “I don’t…” he starts to say before changing his mind. “If you know, then why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” you ask. He’s the one constantly doing incomprehensible things.

“Marrying me!” he says, rather emphatically, as though it should be obvious. He runs his hands through his hair. “Going through with this wedding! I don’t understand.” He sounds desperate to understand.

You feel of heat gather high on your cheeks, not having expected to have a light shown on your own actions so directly. “What do you mean? We’re betrothed. Getting married is the expected course of action.”

He gives you a flat look that says you’re not fooling him. “Try once more. I admit there were certain times where I did think you…” He looks at you, a distant look in his eyes as he remembers whatever particular instance. “Where I did think that you knew. Half a dozen times, I was sure you knew,” he continues, eyes intent once more, “but you didn’t do anything about it! You never revealed me or tried to exorcise me or even demand any sort of recompense for keeping it secret. You merely continued on as we had. You were still there, at my side.” He sighs and he looks so tired again. “And so I thought I must be wrong, that you couldn’t know.”

You're not sure what to say in the face of his conviction that you knowing what he is and you continuing to associate with him were so unlikely he’d discounted it out of hand. He made it sound like tolerating or using him was the most he’d expected. “I…”

“And you’re afraid of demons!” The words burst out of him. “So why would—?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you reply because that’s certainly true. If the manner in which the shadows behind Dale are writhing in distress are any indication, the reassurance can’t hurt. You’re worried about how his nature makes life more complicated and what other people might do, but you’re long past the point of fearing he’d physically injure you on purpose.

“I heard you and Grandfather talking about Two,” Dale replies, as if that proves something. “How you feared them because of what they were. That night, when I remembered what I’d heard, I changed my mind again about what you knew.”

You stare at him before saying slowly, “Dale, I was afraid of Two because they were trying to kidnap and murder us. Their being a demon made them more dangerous, so yes, that made me fear them more than the others. You were who knows where fighting them on your own and I was worried about you.” If you thought Dale looked confused before, he looks downright confounded now. You keep talking, relishing in the opportunity to finally speak honestly about the attack, “However, you being a demon makes you stronger, which reassured me. I couldn’t say anything else because of Grandfather’s attitude, but I did not grow up in Northridge. I may not have met a demon before, but I didn’t live anywhere with the rigorous, studied suspicion and fear that Northridge cultivates.”

“The rest of the world is not Northridge,” Dale acknowledges having composed himself, “but it is not charitable in its view either. And it is not wrong in that opinion. I’ve been on the Surface before. No one has ever treated me in the manner you have after learning what I am. It was impossible to reconcile the person I got to know with someone who would want what humans understand demons to be.”

It’s not as though you can’t follow where he’s coming from. You haven’t told anyone else about what he is for a reason beyond just what Grandfather and Grandmother. You’d never even seriously considered telling any of your siblings because you know they wouldn’t understand. You want to ask further about the personal experience he’s alluding to but that isn’t what matters at this moment. “I…” You take a breath and finally say the obvious truth that you’ve never been able to say directly, even if you alluded to the sentiment right after the attack. “I do want to marry you.” Dale looks thunder-stuck. “Far more than I ever wanted to marry Dale before you took his place.”

“You do?” You’ve never seen Dale look so completely bewildered. “Why?”

“Because he was a selfish, mean, entitled prick.” The plain, honest words slip out without thought and Dale’s eyes widen. “Because you’re not. I like you.” You swallow and continue, “I think we get along well. I would have tolerated marrying him. You make me look forward to marriage.” 

It's a weight lifted to finally say those words, but they inevitably bring up your own confusion, your own lack of understanding of this Dale’s motivations and you can’t pass up the opportunity to ask. “But this is not just about why I have stuck to this facade. Why have you?” You still have no notion of what a demon might want. You’d only barely convinced yourself that Dale wanted this partnership since he was going along with it. He isn’t now. So perhaps you don’t know anything at all. “You could have stolen all you could from Dale and then disappeared to live your own life about a week after being here. You don’t have to be, to be,” you search for the words to define what’s he’s been doing, especially knowing he’s not been working toward the same end goal as you, “taking part in all these events, and playing dutiful grandson with Grandfather, Grandmother, or all the others.” You take a deep breath and add, with only a small shake to your voice, “Or being with me. Why are you still here?”

Dale opens his mouth, but no sound comes out as he stares at you.

Your shoulders slump in the face of his inability to give any reason, let alone a compelling one. “Although, I suppose there is no more wedding, is there? You’ve called it off, for all you haven’t left or told me why.” The prospect of the fall-out to come leaves you exhausted and hurt already. “I assume that leaving will be your next move.”

“No, no,” Dale starts to protest, “I…” Something changes in his expression as he searches for the words to say and this time, they come out steady, “Originally, I stayed because it was easy. I thought the best stroke of luck I’d had in my existence was when that imbecile broke himself opening an unguarded portal and I’d won the fight for his body.”

“Oh.” It had never even occurred to you that there might have been such an event. No matter what he does next, you’re grateful this demon is the one who won too.

“It’d been so long since I’d been up on the Surface,” Dale says wistfully. “I didn’t have a plan beyond getting here. I suppose, at first, I had considered taking what I could and leaving to make my own life. Except…” Your breath, your future hangs on that “except.” “I enjoy it here. Northridge, I mean, not just being out of the Depths. It’s somewhat impossible to know how much is experience and how much is borrowed memory, but I care for Grandfather and Grandmother. And for you. What is here in Northridge is more than I’d hoped for. A safe den, a loyal clan, a bountiful territory, an exemplary mate. Why would I go searching for better when it seemed I’d already found all I could want?”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

Dale seems so sincere but that only brings your mind back to what prompted this conversation. “Then why are you trying to stop the wedding?”

“Because I thought you didn’t know!” he protests. “I told myself that since I’d never out-right lied to you, that was good enough.” He sighs. “But I realized if my only reason for not telling you who you were even marrying was because you might make a choice I didn’t want, that it was rather despicable.”

You can’t help, but ask the obvious. “Then why didn’t you simply tell me instead of calling the wedding off?”

“Because I’m selfish too,” Dale says, “and I couldn’t bear for you to know the truth and look at me like—.” He breaks off, shaking his head.

He’s returned to not meeting your eyes. Tension has crawled back up his spine to settle in his shoulders. His arms are crossed and he still seems one wrong word away from running. As if Dale’s still waiting for you to reject him. Perhaps you need to make up for all the times you didn’t speak up before. It seems like a fair concession if the hope blooming in your chest is proven true. 

You stand up from your chair, crossing the remaining distance between you and Dale. You place gentle hands on his forearms and they loosen under your touch. Carefully you push those crossed arms down until they hang by his sides where you can entwine your fingers with his. You take advantage of the height he has on you to look up into his eyes, not even surprised to find more than just two. “Well, I do know.” Those glowing blue eyes stare back down at you with the same hope reflected in them. “And I still want to marry you. If you do.”

Dale’s answer is immediate and earnest, “I do. I want that. I want the life we spoke of building more than anything else I’ve ever thought to want.”

You nod, a smile breaking out across your face. “Good. Go-” He cuts you off with a kiss, which starts out light but grows in pressure when you kiss him back. He tries to lift a hand to your face, but instead the back of your own hand still held in his touches your cheek instead. You pull back to see the pout he makes as he stares at his hand, obviously unsure of whether to let yours go or to keep holding on. 

The sound of a door opening above you followed by disgruntled voices pops the bubble of privacy you’d been enclosed in. You sigh. “While we still need to have a full conversation, I think it can wait for tonight at the least, yes?” Dale nods eagerly. “Then I must return to getting ready.”

“And I must assure Grandfather my ‘bout of childish insanity’ is indeed over. I’ve never seen him so furious.” At the look of surprise on your face, Dale smiles. “Regardless of what he thought before, Grandfather certainly thinks well of you now. He repeatedly told me that this would be the worst decision I ever made if I went through with it. He’s refused to even tell Grandmother, more out of fear for me than for her.”

High on emotion and relief, you giggle, too pleased that Grandfather spoke so strongly in your favor. “Did he?”

“Yes,” Dales says as he leads you to the study door. “And it's not as though I could provide a solid defense when I knew he was right.” He pulls you into a solid embrace before letting you go with a final kiss pressed to your forehead. 

You pull the door open without looking away from him, not able to resist asking for one last reassurance, “Your word that you will be there at the other end of the aisle?”

Dale smiles. “Yes, sana, I give you my word that I will let nothing stand in the way of our wedding, not even myself.”

[Part Thirty-One]

[chaifootsteps]

Still thinking about Viv's claim that she thinks both sides are in the wrong and it's bugging me enough to do a quick episode run down to see how exactly that claim stacks up. Hopefully quantifying a bit more will help see where we're actually at

Ozzies: Between episodes 6&7 Stolas gets a personality transplant and goes from calling Blitzo his 'impish little plaything' and demeaning him to being head over heels for him, calling him by his name and bowing to him. When the car drives away the camera lingers on Stolas crying, though the episode ends on Blitzo and his emotions so we'll call this one even

Queen Bee: We see Blitzo's emotions in the aftermath in the form of a self-destructive bender, but noticeably what he says to Loona is that he's upset that he'll die alone. He doesn't say anything about being upset about feeling used or mistreated by Stolas (he even says his name along with the others before he throws up)

The Circus: Retcons galore backstory about how Stolas and Blitzo were childhood friends and despite using him for sex all s1, Stolas was apparently really in love with Blitzo the whole time?? It doesn't make a lot of sense but go with it. Episode ends with a song where Stolas not only implies Blitzo was somehow lying to him this whole time (Genius.com contributor suggests Stolas believed Blitzo actually loved him, which seems the obvious interpretation of these lyrics) but also makes him out to be a weak victim. He shows no guilt whatsoever for the part he played in making Blitzo feel degraded and used.

What’s between you and I Just a comfortable lie I’m the fool who believes When you look in my eyes

Seeing Stars: Stolas being framed as badass while he's choking his butler and it not being remotely bad on his part that he continues to sexually accost Blitzo in their first meeting after Ozzie's. Any criticisms Blitzo makes of Stolas (not remembering his own spells) are dismissed by Stolas with nonsensical arguments (it's relevant Blitzo can't remember Moxxie's phone number, apparently?)

Exes and Ohs: Stolas isn't in this episode or mentioned at all

Western Energy: Text message exchange after Ozzie's show Stolas giving a non apology where he doesn't actually address the problem, literally doing a 'I'm sorry if something I said or did upset you'. Episode ends on Stolas alone in the hospital where the viewer should pity him that Blitzo didn't come to visit :(

Unhappy Campers: No Stolas!

Oops: Blitzo dismisses the notion that Stolas cares about him by using examples obviously meant to favor Stolas. He is framed as jaded and unreasonable and Fizz is the obvious voice of reason. The imp who hates royalty is called a supremacist, Blitzo is the in between who dislikes Stolas and Fizz - the one who capes for royalty - is presented as in the right

Full Moon: Blitzo again criticizes Stolas, without getting to mention anything specific from s1. He is framed as going too far and tries to apologize. Stolas acts like the deal was a mutual thing even when admitting it was wrong

By my count that's basically no examples in Blitzo's favor. And I imagine if we counted all the Twitter likes from Viv on posts favoring Blitzo we'd turn up a big goose egg there, too

Careful, now! You laid out all the facts and stated them plainly, and we know that that makes a certain subset of fans angry and scared.

Viv can claim that "they're supposed to both be in the wrong" all she likes, but it doesn't mean a thing if every other word of writing in season 2 suggests the opposite. I guess the real test will come in Apology Tour, when we get to see who's actually doing the apologizing.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Intervention

Summary: Relativity/Reunion Falls AU, Mabel and Stan have a talk.

Masterlist

...

It’s when Stan gets upstairs and finds that Ford has moved his weird stuffed animal collection that is the absolute last straw.

“Okay, no,” Stan snaps, and Stanford immediately spins around from where he was setting a notebook on the nightstand.  It looks like one from downstairs in the craft store.

“Who said you could move my stuff?” Stan says, crossing his arms.  “That’s my nightstand.”

“Oh, uh— sorry,” Stanford says.  “It was cleared off when I put this here, so—”

“It wasn’t cleared off when you got here.  That’s my stuff!”

“Well, I thought you must have moved it—”

“That was your first mistake then, wasn’t it.”

“Hey, come on,” Stanford says, clenching his hands into fists at his sides, before seeming to catch himself and shoving them behind his back.  He still glares at Stan, though.  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“The fact that you think so is just more proof of how much you’ve done wrong!”

“What does that even mean—”

“Hey!” comes a new voice, and both of them turn around to see Grauntie Mabel standing in the doorway.

“I moved your weird stuffed animal collection, Stanley,” she says.  “Ford needs a place to put his things too.”

“But this is my room!” Stan snaps.  “He’s just taking everything—”

“That’s enough,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “Come here, young man.  We need to have a talk.”

Before Stan can protest, she takes his arm and walks him out of the room.  They make it down to the bottom of the steps before Stanley yanks his arm free.

“Let go of me,” he snaps.  Grauntie Mabel lets him move away, but turns and crosses her arms, still appearing very firm.  She moves so she’s standing in between Stan and the attic.

“Stanley Pines, I have had just about enough of this,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “Ford has not done anything to warrant this kind of treatment from you.  Why are you acting like this?  It isn’t like you.”

“I’m being the unreasonable one?” Stan says, throwing his hands up.  “You just let another kid stay here without asking me first!  And he’s in my room and he’s moving my stuff!”

“I told you, I moved your stuff,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you ahead of time.  I should have done that.  But that isn’t Ford’s fault.  And he came here because he wanted to meet you.”

“Great, he’s met me.  He can go home now.”

“Stan.”

“Why?  Why does he have to be here?  I don’t want him here!  Things were good before he showed up!”

“Things might be even better with him,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “How would you know if you don’t give him a chance?”

“You know you don’t like brussel sprouts but you said you’ve never had them!”

“That’s a vegetable, Stanley,” Grauntie Mabel says, sounding slightly exasperated.  “He’s a person.  And having a sibling can be a really amazing thing.”

“Oh, how would you know?” Stan says, crossing his arms.

Grauntie Mabel takes a deep breath.  “I think if you gave Ford a shot, you would really like him,” she says.

“I don’t want to give him a shot.”

Grauntie Mabel gives him a look.  “Why on earth not, Stan?  You want to give everyone a shot.”

“Not the stupid boring twin who my parents probably only kept because he sucks,” he snaps.

Grauntie Mabel’s eyes widen.  “Hey,” she says, though her tone softens.  “Now that’s not fair.”

“Oh, that isn’t fair?  What about them picking him over me!  How is that fair?”

Grauntie Mabel crouches down and puts a hand on his shoulder, all of the anger in her eyes replaced with concern.  “It isn’t fair, Stanley,” she says gently.  “That’s not what it’s about.”

“Well— what is it about, then?” Stan asks.  His voice cracks on the last word, and he glares down at the ground.  “Why wouldn’t they want me?  Did—” he sniffs.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Grauntie Mabel says firmly, and Stan finds himself being pulled into a tight hug.  “Sweetie, no, you did not do anything wrong, you were just a baby.”

“But then why would they keep him and not me?” Stan asks, burying his head in Grauntie Mabel’s chest.  “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “Neither of you did anything.  This is on your parents, making a really unfair and awful decision.  It is definitely not your fault, and it’s not Ford’s either.”

Stan’s breath hitches, and when Grauntie Mabel pulls him closer, he breaks, and starts crying into her shirt.  She doesn’t say anything, just holds him close and lets him.

Stan isn’t sure how long they stay there, but Grauntie Mabel doesn’t rush him at all, even though Stan’s pretty sure all the crouching isn’t good on her old lady knees.

Eventually, though, Stan pulls back, wiping at his eyes.

“Are you feeling any better?” Grauntie Mabel asks.

Stan shakes his head and sniffs.  “Not really.”

Grauntie Mabel gives him a sad smile.  “That’s okay, bud.  This stuff is real hard.  I’m sorry you got it all sprung on you.  If I’d known Ford was going to show up, I would have told you first.”

“Why do you keep callin’ him Ford?” Stan asks.  “I thought he said his name was Stanford.”

“I thought it might be easier to differentiate.  Since you’ve both got ‘Stan’ in the first part of your name.”

Stan sniffs again and looks down, fidgeting with his fingers.  “Didn’t have to do that before,” he mutters.

“True,” Grauntie Mabel agrees.  “Sometimes you have to adjust things to make room for other people.  But it’s worth it, buddy.  Can you trust me on this?”

Stan meets Grauntie Mabel’s gaze.  She definitely seems sincere.

“Grauntie Mabel?” he asks.  “Why did you want me?”

“Aw, how could I not?” Grauntie Mabel says, and before Stan can say anything, she scoops him up into her arms.  “One look at those cheeks, who wouldn’t want to pinch ‘em?”  She proceeds to do just that, and Stan squeals in protest, trying to push himself backwards off Grauntie Mabel’s face.  It just makes her laugh.

She stops after a second and gives him a warm smile.  “Listen Stanley,” she says.  “There’s not a thing you can do that would get rid of me, okay?  I’m always gonna want you around.”

“Promise?” Stan whispers.  His voice shakes more than he’d like.

Grauntie Mabel pulls him into another tight hug.  “I promise.”

…

After a little bit more time to cool off, Stan does go upstairs to apologize to Stanford— to Ford?  That does sound better.  He’s not sure what exactly he’s expecting to see when he opens the door to their bedroom, but it’s definitely not Ford putting all of his weird stuffed animals back on the nightstand, the notebook from before tossed haphazardly on the spare bed.

“Hey,” Stan says.  It comes out more awkward than he wants.

Ford turns to look at him.  “Uh— hey.  Sorry, I didn’t know how you had these set up before, but I tried to balance the weight distribution so it’s less likely they’d fall—”

Stan snorts.  “Man, you really are a nerd, huh?”

Ford fixes his glasses and doesn’t reply.

Stan sighs.  He walks over towards Ford, trailing his gaze on the ground so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes.  “Look,” he says.  “I’m sorry I’ve been kinda sucky to you.  I just— wasn’t expecting any of this.  I thought my Ma and Pa were dead.  I didn’t know I had a secret twin brother who my parents like more than me.  It just— doesn’t feel good.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Ford says quietly.  “I just learned I had a brother I never met, and I wanted to meet you.  See if you were better than what Pa said.”

Stan winces.  “Guess I messed that up,” he mutters.

There’s a pause, and Stan glances up to find Ford looking thoughtfully at him.  “What?”

Ford shakes his head.  “You didn’t mess it up,” he says.  “You said sorry.  That already makes you better than Pa.”

Stan blinks.  “That’s not a very high standard.”

Ford shrugs.

Stan doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he just keeps going with what he’d planned to say.

“So really I just meant, uh, sorry I treated you like them picking you was your fault,” he says.  “‘Cause it’s not.  Just… do you think we can try a do-over?  I promise I don’t actually think you’re a weirdo.”

Ford looks away, and Stan can’t read the expression on his face for a second.  But then his gaze turns determined, and when he turns back to Stan, he nods.  “Do-over,” he says.  “Deal.”

Stan smiles and holds out his hand for a shake.  But Ford looks at the hand like it’s going to poison him.

“Uh,” Stan pulls his hand back.  “Sorry?”

“No, I—” Ford shoves his hands behind his back, and his cheeks turn bright red.  “I don’t like handshakes.”

“Oh,” Stan says.  “Okay, no worries!  See, we’re getting to know each other already!  What do you want to do instead?”

Ford looks startled, like the question had never occurred to him.  “Uh…”

After a second, Stan can tell he’s struggling, so he waves it off.  “Well when you figure it out, let me know.  For now, let’s find a new spot for my weird stuffed animals collection.”

“Why do you call it that?” Ford asks, as they both turn back to the nightstand.

“‘Cause all of them are weird or messed up in some way!” Stan calls happily.  He grabs one and hands it to Ford.  “This is Steven, he’s a stuffed kitty who had a tear down his side when I bought him.  So I fixed him up and now he has a cool scar!”  He grabs another one and hands it over too.  “This is Eyeball.  He’s a spider where they put one eye that was different from the rest.  See, this one’s got a pupil, and none of the rest of them do.  This is Sally, she’s a crow with a cracked plastic beak.  And Grauntie Mabel helped me make this one, it’s Shmebulock, he’s my favorite gnome.  And this is my last one for now, she’s Nina the octopus!  She’s got an extra arm.  When Grauntie Mabel and I are out shopping, if I see a weird stuffed animal, she lets me buy it and add it to my collection!  Cool, huh?”  He balances the last one on top of the others in Ford’s arms.

Ford’s staring at them with an expression Stan can’t quite put a name too.  After a second, he nods.  “Cool,” he says softly.

Stan nods in approval of Ford’s approval, and then turns around, surveying the rest of the room to try and think of a better place to put it.

“You know, I think if I got Grauntie Mabel’s help we could build a cool display shelf!  We can put it above my bed, so I have easy access!  What do you think?”

When he turns back around, Ford has set all the stuffed animals down on Stan’s bed except for Nina, who he’s staring at.

Stan grins at him.  “You like Nina?”

Ford fiddles with Nina’s extra tentacle and nods.

Stan grins a little wider, walks over to Ford, and pushes Nina closer towards him.  “All yours.”

Ford looks up at him.  “What?  You don’t have to—”

“Nah, it’s okay.  Consider it part of the apology.  Just help me look for more, okay?”

Ford nods, a smile growing on his face.  “Okay,” he says.  He squeezes Nina a little tighter but doesn’t say anything else.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

You’d think after a certain point Mari would learn to show compassion to those she hates. She has no responsibility to help Chloe at all but the LEAST she could do is NOT stoop to her level by insulting her like she did in Queen Wasp. Calling someone incapable of love is definitely a good way to KEEP them on your bad side for a LONG time. I’m especially surprised after Maledict that she didn’t learn this lesson. Acting in spite will get you into places you don’t wanna be!

The issue is that it's not just Marinette choosing to not help Chloe out of her own issues making it hard to show empathy towards her bully. The show goes out of its way to justify Marinette's actions as the right thing to do not because sometimes people can't really change, but because Chloe is depicted as such a menace to society, even thinking of feeling anything that isn't blind hatred towards her is wrong.

Say what you will about Chloe, but the issue isn't just how things ended for her, it's how the show goes out of its way to justify how things ended for her by having the characters repeatedly discuss how and why Chloe has no excuses to be mean... while using those exact same excuses on rich white men, because this is totally a feminist show with zero double standards.

Do I think Chloe deserves zero punishment and did nothing wrong? No.

Do I think Chloe's actions are blown way too far out of proportion compared to the bigger threats in the show? Yes.

Do I think Marinette's hatred of Chloe is unreasonable? No.

Do I think Marinette is justified in being just as catty towards her bully as she was to her in the past, essentially playing right into the chain of harm? Hell yes.

[raincitygirl76]

I wonder how much of the Sargust fallout in 2.06 was due to August being an only child…

He clearly did not anticipate Sara reacting as badly as she did to finding out that her boyfriend had used her tipoff to blackmail her little brother. He probably figured she wouldn’t be happy. But her level of betrayal seemed to catch August off guard. But then, August doesn’t know what it’s like to be truly pissed off at your sibling, but they’re still your sibling.

I had a fight with my sister on the weekend, and we just made up via text. We’re both gone 40 and she’s married with 2 kids (who have their own sibling rivalry issues). But she’s still my little sister, and fighting with her is still not fun.

Sara in 1.06 was not happy with Simon, and I suspect that made it easier for her to cut that deal with August. Judging by 1.06, August could have assumed that Sara doesn’t like Simon very much, and won’t particularly care what August does to him. But again, August has no siblings.

Sara cut a deal with August in 1.06 when she felt betrayed by her brother and panic-stricken at the thought of her mother forcing her to return to the old school where she had been viciously bullied. But eventually Sara’s anger at her little brother cooled. And he remained her little brother.

A few months pass. Simon and Sara aren’t as close as they used to be, with Sara boarding at Hillerska this term. And Sara is preoccupied with both her secret romance and the pending sale of Rousseau. But Simon still tells her when he finds out it was August who leaked the video. And Sara tells August what Simon told her, expecting him to do the right thing. Is she naive for thinking that? Yes. But she’s also only 18 and in love.

Then August uses her information, not to confess his crime to the police “spontaneously” before Simon can turn him in. But instead to blackmail Simon with something or other (Sara doesn’t know the specifics) so Simon can’t turn him in. Sara must be doubting at this point whether she ever meant anything to August, or if he was just using her to keep her quiet about what she knew.

As it happens she’s wrong about that, but it’s not unreasonable for her to doubt August’s motives for pursuing her, given what she’s just found out about how he used the information she gave him. Note on the shooting range she says “Because I was in love with him.” Past tense. Not “Because I’m in love with him,” present tense.

Furthermore, when she tells the truth, partly because she fears Wilhelm will blow August’s head off, Simon is devastated. He trusted Sara, and she betrayed that trust. She betrayed it more than once, has had this information since December and got involved with August anyway. I don’t think it really hits Sara until this point just how badly she’s fucked up, or just how devastated Simon is.

He’s her little brother, he’s in pain, she wants to hurt the person who hurt him. But the person who hurt him is her. She did this to him. Sara is not a forgiving person, look at how she decisively cut Micke out of her life. She must be fearing that she’s ruined her relationship with her only sibling for the rest of her life, that he will never forgive her.

I personally think Simon will forgive Sara eventually. But Sara knows what it’s like to be betrayed by an immediate family member, and knows she will never forgive Micke. It’s not difficult to imagine Sara extrapolating from her own experience, and believing Simon will permanently cut her out of his life the way she has permanently cut their father out of her life.

So she’s hurt her only sibling very badly, and for what? For a guy who turned out to be a duplicitous asshole and used her tipoff to hurt her brother. Again.

And August thinks she’ll simmer down. Yeah, she walked away from him on the shooting range, but he approaches her the following morning confidently. He has an ace in the hole to get his girlfriend to stop flipping out: he’s bought Rousseau for her. August (again, an only child) assumes the gift of Rousseau will be sufficient recompense for deep-sixing Sara’s relationship with her brother.

It isn’t sufficient recompense, and August is taken aback when Sara refuses the magnificent gift. But August doesn’t understand the push-pull of sibling dynamics. That Sara is experiencing family loyalty at a very inconvenient time (from August’s point of view).

August’s father is dead, he’s clearly not close to his mother, and he hates his stepfather’s guts. And he has no siblings, nobody else who understands what it was like to grow up at Arnas with Carl Johan and Louise Horn as their parents.

He was pretty close to his second cousin Erik before Erik wrapped his Ferrrari around a tree. But it seems like that friendship didn’t really get close until a traumatized, recently bereaved 16 year old August showed up at Hillerska as a first year and Erik (then a third year) took August under his wing.

August and Erik knew each other all their lives, but they were only close for about 2 years. And given they first got close at 16 (August) and 18 (Erik), that’s not actually analogous to a sibling relationship. Erik was already old enough to drink and vote, and August only a few years off. That’s not spending your childhood together.

And we’ve seen how superficial August’s friendships with his two best friends at Hillerska are. In S1, August and Vincent trash talk Nils behind his back for being nouveau riche. In S2, given an opportunity, Vincent sells August out, and Nils helps Vincent do so. August does not have any siblings, nor any sibling-like relationships where mutual loyalty is crucial.

So August sees Sara sell Simon out in 1.06 and takes that at face value. He doesn’t realize that Sara is angry with Simon at that point, but will get over it. Because August doesn’t understand the messiness of sibling relationships. Or their importance.

I know adults who have cut siblings out of their lives because that sibling had hurt them so grievously they said enough. But I don’t know anyone who has cut a sibling out of their life without giving it serious thought beforehand. Even if they’re better off without that sibling in their life, it’s still a huge decision. Sometimes it’s a bigger decision than cutting a parent out of their life.

Matters are complicated somewhat by divorce, remarriage, half-siblings, step-siblings, etc. obviously. But generally speaking, if you spent a significant chunk of your childhood living in the same house as someone, the decision to cut them out of your life is a very serious one.

My best friend has two older half siblings she is not close to and has never been close to. But one is 20 years her senior and the other 18 years her senior. She is the only child of her father’s second marriage, and she acts like an only child. The combination of her father’s divorce from his first wife and the massive age gap means she has very few shared experiences with her half-siblings. Now, part of that is on her dad. But part of it is simply that both her half siblings are old enough they could be her parents themselves.

So yeah, August was raised as an only child. Even if it turns out Carl Johan fathered another child out of wedlock at some point, that hypothetical half-sibling didn’t grow up with Carl Johan. There might be curiosity, it might even lead to a bond eventually, but there won’t be the shared childhood experiences.

Whereas Sara and Simon are full siblings close in age. Furthermore, they grew up together, in a traumatic family situation with a father who was an addict (and possibly abusive to boot) and a mother who meant well but was struggling to cope. Even if Simon and Sara never reconnect, they will still always have those shared experiences of growing up as Micke and Linda Eriksson’s children.

So I really don’t think August saw Sara’s total disillusionment with him in 2.06 coming. Because August isn’t anyone’s brother and doesn’t really get it.

[anpanman95]

God DO I have things to say about this one here…

CONTROVERSIAL REVIEW AHEAD

Last Twilight: why Day’s character is a major RED FLAG 🚩🚩🚩

DISCLAIMER: I do not have anything against him as an actor. He’s a beautiful sweet talented cutie pie that is doing such an amazing job it causes me to hate the motherfluffing guts of this character.

To make this easier I’ve broken down this to five points.

Day’s personality sucks: first of all, he is a rich, spoiled child (I hope all of us agree on this one) who’s clearly full of himself, and only cares about himself. This is demonstrated in several ways, but the most blatant one is in how he believes that his tragedy is the worst possible scenario anyone could be in, and fails to have a single ounce of empathy for anyone around him unless, of course, it has to do something with him. Yes. What happened to him was horrific, and traumatizing, but he is not the only human being in the world who has problems. Which brings me to my next point.

Having a disability does not give you the right to be an asshole. “Oh but every person deals with their own stuff differently” Honey, no. The whole point is that having a disability does not make you any less than any other human being. Question: Doesn’t Day want for people to stop feeling pity for him? to not treat him differently?. Well guess what darling: that implies you also still have to be and function like a decent person. Yes, again, I’m very sorry about what he has to go through, which is a horrible and unexpected experience, and I could never imagine what that’s like, but literally no one in his life wished this upon him. He acts as if everyone around him is to be blamed for what happened.

Spoiled part 2: He has a roof over his head. A fancy one might I add. He lives comfortably. He has healthy, unlimited food, done by a professional chef, might I add AGAIN, and he does not appreciate his family and what they do for him, not even once. Does he not understand that his life could be much, much worse? I’m not saying he can’t be angry or depressed or deal with his trauma however he needs to be able to heal, but there’s a difference that he doesn’t seem to understand: being angry at a situation that is out of anyone’s control, and being angry or directing that anger to people who just want to help. Which brings me to my last two points:

Day’s crappy behavior towards his family: Lets start with the mother. She is, of course somewhat at fault for what Day has to go through. But only because she is being unreasonably overprotective, something that could have been solved anyway without Day being an absolute prick about it. (Also pick one of your children to give all your love and attention to and abandon the other? what is wrong with you). Now to his brother Night. Oh God. I don’t think you understand how angry I was when Day said “I forgive you for everything”. Bitch what the f? Forgive Night? for treating him like absolute garbage, as if he had never been your own brother? Like he planned the whole fiasco? He gets mad after the accident because his brother TRIES TO CHANGE for the BETTER. And accuses him from TRYING TO STEAL THE GOOD SON TITLE FROM HIM??! Be for real bitch. This circles back to point one: He only cares about himself. Night has been traumatized almost as much as Day because of the accident. It is obvious he blames himself and probably will never forgive himself fully for what happened. On top of that he gets an awful mother and brother? Nah. Count me out. I would have resigned from that family and go live with beautiful sweet Porjai to a small village and never be contacted by those people again.

Mhok: Oh dear. Oh dear. He is literally the greenest of green flags out there. Sure. He’s a little volatile. Sure, he has done violent things. But he would have NEVER hurt Day or any of their friends/family. My boy was just trying to do his job, cause, mind you, HE HAS NO MONEY OR FAMILY TO SUPPORT HIM LIKE YOU DO, DAY. The money and family you disrespect every single day. And what the f with telling him what to do with his life? Who the f do you think you are? Mr. Righteous? Mr. Perfect? More like Mr. Red Flag 101. Day basically broke Mhok’s heart because Mhok didn’t want to be away from him. So, first of all, I don’t believe for a second Mhok’s intentions were out of pity. Maybe they came from a place of WORRY and a little bit out of infatuation because he liked him so much and didn’t want to be away from him. But never pity. EVEN SO. IF Mhok felt “pity” for Day, the correct thing to do, as two fluffing functioning adults, is to TALK. Why did you have to go and tell him all this horrible things just so he’d leave? Why not tell him you’re proud of him, and ENCOURAGE HIM to take the job, ENSURE that it’ll work out between you? But nooooo, Mr. Red Flag had to go and break his heart cause he lacks basic decency and human empathy, only for Mhok, bless his heart, to come back after three years AND FOR SOME REASON, still manage to be in love with this awful person. And he tells him no? Break his heart all over again only for Mhok to have enough emotional intelligence for the both of them to actually come back after YOU GAVE UP ON SEARCHING FOR HIM AT THE AIRPORT LIKE A WEAK MEDIOCRE BI— ugh. If I were Mhok I’d gone and kicked his sorry ass and married a handsome Hawaiian.

Okay.

Also Day only coming to his senses after his mother tells him THE MOST OBVIOUS THING THERE IS.

“Oh Mother what was that? Loving means taking risks? It’s all about trust? and communication? Oh my, that would have never crossed my mind because I am such an idiot. Thank you mom I’ll go look for the love of my life now because you told me so”

like seriously what is up with these boys and their mommy issues? I swear the exact same thing happened in Hidden Agenda. Bro.

I love P’Aof, and his work. Loved Bad Buddy, loved Moonlight Chicken. I had super high expectations of this and, overall, the show is good. But I simply did not enjoy it as much as I thought I would, and it’s all because I couldn’t sympathize with one of the main characters.

In conclusion:

Fluff you Day, you do not deserve Mhok. sorry p’Aof I love you and will continue to support you until the very end.

oof. I needed to rant this out. don’t yell at me please I cry easily.

peace out!

[isaaujulii]

WHY GOD WHY COULDN’T THEY TREAT ALL THEIR CHARACTERS WITH RESPECT. The source material is endlessly fascinating and riddled with interesting storylines that can be followed and or improved upon(within reason) . Like you have the knight without honor whose only true light is a queen who he can never have. A woman whose life is tied to the men around her, which is her circumstance but she does nothing to try to help or ruin them but laments her part in everything. And i’m not saying the story can’t be built upon the relationship between rhaenyra and alicent.

It’s a great place to start. START. It can’t be just about them. Why don’t we see Jaeharys and the pressure he feels as a bastard and a possible future king. What about halaenas mental state her visions, and the fact she lost a whole child. And how come all of a sudden Aemond is kinslaying psychopath whose only goal is to become king, is there no internal conflict. Where’s that remorse and horror we saw at the end of season 1. Aegon is being made fun of every second and being ignored (and before u come at me i know he is a pos rapist, not defending him) nobody sees him as a threat even though he is QUITE LITERALLY THE KING.

Alicent is on her sad girl bs. And I LIKE ALICENT. Do you know how hard it is to make me dislike a character I originally loved. I thought her character was heading into an interesting direction feeling guilt and remorse about her actions because it is against everything she believes in. Because AGAIN they have hammered into the viewers that she is a religious. But she just becomes whishy washy. And not an active participant.

And don’t get me started on our titular protagonist a one Rhaneyra Targaryen. Have I mentioned my dislike at the obvious bias towards team black. Also why are there teams why is everything black and white. I don’t know about yall but I thought the whole point was there is no good and evil and that killing your family for a crown is wrong and morally unjust so therefore anyone participating in the war (as in anyone who has a choice, not the small folk forced to fight and stuff) is already not the greatest person. So i don’t know why they are acting like Rhaneyra is the goddamn messiah. They’re trying to make her a Daenerys variant. She’s not Dany and she shouldn’t be forced to be. Like their trying to make her a reasonable person who only wants best for people around her but she is also someone actively participating in a war with DRAGONS and as everyone keeps repeating there isn’t a war as bloody as one with dragons. And look i love a little hypocrisy in my characters i eat it up but this is ridiculous. You want a war so be in it. And if you don’t want to work with some people tough shit, you need others to get things done. And god forbid they challenge you on anything.

And look I tried to ignore it as much as i could but, do they hate men. Like genuinely asking, because every man in this show with the exception of like 2 characters is immensely unlikeable. And i’m not saying you can’t have unlikeable men. But like it’s a bit of a pattern. The women are the ones trying to avoid war and the men are all gung ho to lose their lives. Like i think they were trying to be feminist by making the women the only reasonable ones and men unreasonable. But they were so feminist that it came around to being misogynistic. Which i didn’t think could happen. And this being pseudo medieval time period with misogyny and all that it seems like there are parts where they are just like forcing patriarchy and other parts it does not seem to exist. Like equality is the norm and patriarchy is the outlier. Like there were women in charge of houses, which is not abnormal in of itself but like they don’t explain it. Like they could’ve been like the lord of that house is ill and his lady-wife takes care of everything. Or been like she’s in the fighting because she has a talent for it and is a bastard. Like I don’t know if any of you have seen the show Black Sails but one of the characters Eleanor basically runs pirate island and that doesn’t make sense because it the 1700’s but it’s explained that her father put her in charge because she was raised there and had a mind for business. And I know it’s a sad thing to be like a woman can only have power in proximity to a man. But like aren’t they going for realism, that’s what was so intriguing about the game of thrones universe. How people given shit circumstances rise above them. And some of these people happen to be women. If this was like one of those comfy fantasy with like fantasy creatures and like loose plots and there aren’t really rules and modern sensibilities are ingrained then I could dig it. Like yah you go girl be a pirate and you be a merchant and you are an advisor to the king. abut this isn’t that. And I can already see how an argument can be made that the entire show is overcoming the circumstances of your birthright being taken because you are a woman. Which I will reply that like I said earlier in order to do that they need the women to have agency and push for it or let it go. Which is options that Rhaneyra has.

And maybe i’m wrong and all those loose plot threads and bizarre character choices will payoff in season 3 and i’ll be the weirdo who doubted them.

[kiragecko]

This is a post about why I'm currently considering myself to be nonbinary, but it's not a post about gender.

-

It’s about 90% of the elementary school girls wanting to sit on the grass and talk about boys, and me still not understanding why even now, in my mid 30s.

It’s about ‘girls books’ that were all about friendship drama and worrying about menstruating, and how these were framed as universal concerns. My only friends were a pair of male cousins and we mostly cared about how our Lego ninjas’ castle infiltration was going. (The options were limited in my small library in the mid-90s.)

It’s about the ‘wild’, ‘disobedient’, and 'hyper' kids in the books I grew up with being so much better behaved than me, even on my best day, that I’d puzzle over it for weeks. Maybe if my parents were stricter I would be able to follow instructions easier? Maybe I was one of the mean kids in those books? Why was nobody in books like me?

It’s about the revulsion I feel when I think about ‘romantic’ gestures. Remembering my mom getting flowers from someone at church, and my aunt getting upset when I laughed about how she wouldn’t like them. MY MOM IS ALLERGIC TO FLOWERS, but a person who had nothing to do with the situation got offended that I didn’t consider them a thoughtful and nice gift. It makes me feel nauseous thinking about how I’m ‘supposed’ to think things that I don’t want and can’t use are loving gifts, just because society decided they were.

It's about people wanting me to already know their social conventions, and feeling like they are doing SO MUCH WORK when they make allowances for my mistakes, but thinking that learning anything about how I like to communicate is asking far too much of them.

It's about trying to make friends as a teen, and all the guys getting upset or weird when it became clear that wasn't code for dating.

It's about makeup giving me rashes, and my hair being done up giving me headaches.

It’s about women in lingerie in ads, and how I wore a headscarf for a year in reaction to how that made me feel.

It's about learning biblical gender roles, and getting really excited about the idea of protection and love in return for submission. And then finding out I like the BDSM understanding of protection and submission a lot more than I like the church's. That the person I love doesn't have the skill to protect me in ways that make submission safe.

It’s about having noise and light sensitivities, but being expected to enjoy crowded weddings.

It’s about people acting disgusted when I get too loud. Or excited. Or happy. Or interested.

It's about 'body language experts' that ""explain"" what various gestures mean, and it's about that month when my husband believed them and told me I was wrong about what I felt.

It's about definitions of 'womanhood' and 'humanity' that contain things that exclude me. And learning how to be okay with being the exception this time. And eventually getting so used to being the exception that I can no longer connect to the concept at all.

It's about only reading fantasy, now, because an elf's experience isn't supposed to be relatable.

It’s about learning that ‘I actually wanted’ things I didn’t want, and I was ‘unreasonable’ when I said no, and I was being ‘too sensitive’ when things physically or emotionally hurt.

It’s about being ADHD and aroace and weird in far too many ways; in a culture that seems to consider that to be willful rebellion and disrespect.

-

I don’t know how to be a woman. I don’t know how to feel good about being a woman. I don't feel I can fulfill the roles and dynamics associated with femininity. I can't present myself in the expected ways, and I don't really want to. In isolation, 'woman' feels like an accurate description. But than I think of OTHER people considering me a woman, and having the right to define what that means, and I just can't.

I need a break from considering myself female, so I can figure out how to do it in a way that doesn’t break me.

I want to learn how to interact with other people in a way that are less exhausting and painful. Engage on my own terms, and disengage if those terms aren’t fulfilled. Protect my own boundaries with strangers and acquaintances - people I don’t expect to make allowances for me. Not by demanding things of them, but by only offering myself on certain terms.

I don't want to ask anything about anyone else. I'm tired of it being about them. I want to ask things of myself. Ask for respect, and care. Figure out what that would actually look like. I want to process and let go of my self-hatred and feelings of being 'designed wrong'.

I've heard the terms 'acegender' and 'neurogender'. They don't excite me, but I recognize that's part of what's going on. Having ADHD gets in the way of performing womanhood to the point that it becomes hard to separate them. And some much of femaleness is defined in relation to being a part of a heterosexual romantic couple. I've got the man, but that hasn't helped me decode the mysteries of romantic and sexual attraction. The baffling concept of men having some sort of allure that women lack, of being a different category.

But, like my marriage isn't about my lack of attraction (it's about the choice I made to love him, and the decade plus of commitment we've had to each other), being nonbinary isn't about my lack of understanding of and ability to perform womanhood. It's about choosing to love myself, and recognizing that I've internalized enough harmful beliefs that I can't healthily identify as female right now.

It's not about gender.

[mxlktxa]

ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ)ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ(ꜱ); ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ*, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴅɪɴᴀ ɴᴏʟᴀꜱᴛɴᴀᴍᴇ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ʀɪʟᴇʏ ᴀʙᴇʟ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ)

ᴄᴡ; 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴇʟʟɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜ (ꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴀʀᴍ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ(/ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴀʟ (ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴅᴏʟʟ, ᴇᴛᴄ)

ᴡᴄ; 1.2ᴋ, 6.8ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

I had known this girl all my life. Since we were kids, really. She was just a sweet, innocent, happy girl. She could never do anything wrong. Even her appearance came off of such, definitely wouldn’t hurt a fly. Made friends easily— not with me, I was an ass—, super creative, and very talented. She was an angel, anyone would agree. You could love her oh-so easily.

Back when we were younger, she always came up to me whenever she saw me isolated from anyone else, wanting to hold conversations or just sit in a comfortable silence. As we got older, conversations were held much better and longer. She ended up giving me gifts out of the blue, begging me to accept them even when I told her to stop spoiling me. Drawings, little candy baskets, sweet notes, invitations for a sleepover or dinner at her parents.

I’m telling you. She’s the sweetest.

Later down the line, sometime between seventh and eighth grade, I would see her personality falter here and there, see her have her bad days, yet act like she was having such a fantastic one. Behind closed doors she would break down, screaming and crying her lungs out, verbally considering self-harm. I talked her out of it, thankfully, I didn’t want to see her so deep in an endless void.

Highschool rolled around, we were very, very different people. I ended up getting into substances I shouldn’t’ve gotten into, lots of fights, loads of rumors, and plenty of quick and unreasonable relationships. But her? She stayed the same. Perfect, gorgeous, happy, so very happy-go-lucky. Of course, she had her bad days, thats a given. But they were because of that stupid path I decided to walk down. And yet, that peachy little angel stayed by my side.

Fucking angel.

Around graduation, I was only smoking weed, selling some every now and again, taking time off of being in relationships. Fights were drastically reduced but rumors… Not so much. We went back to having sleepovers and little lunch dates. Mainly sleepovers as she said she enjoyed staying up with me and sleeping on top me more than sitting down and eating for what felt like ten minutes. She even encouraged me to go to college with her, move into a nice little home with her. As friends.

Moving in was wild. We would go out four times a week, constantly stay up late, and drink as if alcohol poisoning wasn’t a thing. That’s when I found out her appearance and personality was definitely not her default behavior. She was a total… let’s just say she’s not so innocent. She’s a wild dancer, crazy dirty talking, so flirtatious, highly sensual. That’s how she ended up basically admitting she’s always liked me and been dying to fuck me.

“Y’know, Els, I’ve always liked you. Love you, even. And I hated all those girls y’got with. Except that Riley girl. She was a sweetheart. M’but not Dina. ‘Specially Dina. Fuck her. Speakin’ o’ which, I would give anything to fuck you. To watch my sweet Ellie through half shut lids as she— …Mmph, nevermind. Sorry, m’sorry.”

“No, no. Tell me. Tell me what you want your ‘sweet Ellie’ to do. Hm? What do you want from me, princess?”

“Yeah? Y’wanna know?”

“Tell me, baby. No one’s around to judge.”

“I wanna watch you eat me out until I’m nothin’ but a crying, shaking mess. My legs, over your shoulders, our eyes filled with nothin’ but lust and pure love. Get me high beforehand, m’curious about what it might feel like.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm… Better yet, buy a strap and let me sit on it. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me. No complaints.”

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty.”

“Tell me about it.”

That entire interaction is what led me to actually laying her out and having her beyond fucked stupid. She asked and she received. Soon, we just labeled ourselves as a couple, she took me to meet her parents— as if I didn’t know them already— and I took her to meet mine. That includes Joel, even if he was just a really cool babysitter I had when I was younger. They love each other, platonically, of course.

“You? You’re the one that gave ‘er that bruise on ‘er arm?”

“Yep!”

“Y’seem so sweet, though. You’re also quite tiny. I reckon you could take ‘er in a fight, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Our play fighting does not do her justice, Joel.”

“Hey! You cheat! All the time!”

“I do not.”

“Joel!”

“I believe you, don’t worry, kiddo.”

We rarely ever fought. If we did it was either over something stupid— which resulted in talking it out—, or for valid, genuine reasons— those resulted in building up tension for a few hours, fucking, then talking it out. Terrible, I know but lord was she so filthy and rough.

I loved this girl and everything we’ve ever been through. She dealt with me for so long, she helped me through everything, she changed me. Of course, she would say I did the same for her but I would harshly disagree. I haven’t done nearly as much as she has for me. Except proposing and marrying the girl.

Oh, boy was she crying and passing out for the next few days.

Now present day, here we were, married and going through old photos we had and the notes she gave me back then. She was sat in front me in her nightgown, giggling at every photo she found from middle school. The picture was handed to me, both of us in our halloween costumes from that year.

“Remember this? Our little pirate and princess phase?” her eyes met mine, sending shivers up my spine and some wild butterflies in my stomach. I could only nod and stare at her in silence, too hung up on her giddy expression. “We were so cute. We still are, don’t get it twisted, but… This is a different kind of cute.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” I spoke without really thinking, watching the love of my life perk up at the small compliment. God she was the cutest.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, "I think you're very handsome."

"Handsome?"

"Mhm."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she giggled, scooting back from me, "so handsome that I could die."

We stared at each other in a comfortable silence, slowly starting to smile and puff up our cheeks with air. Within seconds we blew raspberries and began laughing like crazy. While she was in the middle of laughing, I grabbed the nearby polaroid that she had beside her, aiming it at her laughing expression and taking the chance to snap the photo.

"Got 'cha, pretty girl," lowering the camera, she gasped and snatched the photo from the device in my hand, sliding it off to the side. Those eyes I adored so much landed on me, holding an idea we both knew I couldn't confuse.

"Y'know, Els," she started, having me roll my eyes immediately and nod to her, "why don't we start a little private collection?”

As per usual, she came up with something I never expected to leave her mouth. My head tilted to the side, surprised at the suggestion meanwhile she just shrugged while reaching for the camera, “here. I’ll start.”

Just like that, her dropped the straps on her nightgown over her shoulders, her breasts on full display to me… And the camera. I watched as she made up various poses, snapping numerous pictures. She even stared directly at me a few times as the flash had gone off. I’m definitely fucking her after we put this stuff up.

“You’re something else, y’know that?”

“And yet,” she crawled over to me, straddling me, chest now against mine as she hugged me tightly, “you absolutely adore it. Don’t you?”

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

ᴀɴ; ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀꜱᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ!! ̤̮