#I would have left y’all on READ cause you don’t deserve

[cyarsk52-20]

Just read the news and I'm so happy he did. Keep going, Joe!

[lloovvv]

A Forgotten Bond

Wanderer x Fem!Y/N. fluff, a sprinkle of angst, reunion, will have three parts, proper capitalization this time

decided to feed y’all bcs i don’t want to be gone this long

words: 1,215

sypnosis (this’ll be kind of long): Wanderer, after getting his memories from the past back after erasing himself from Irminsul, avoids you at all cost. why? because back when he was a harbinger, you were a close friend, or maybe more, and you endured all his breakdowns, harsh treatment, venomous words, all while not abandoning him. after getting the electro gnosis and running away from the Fatui to become an archon with dottore’s help, he abandoned you without a word, only muttering about Sumeru. therefore, he thinks that you don’t deserve meeting him again. but Nahida, our dear archon, has other plans in where she’ll push him to meet you again at any chance she gets. due to the Irminsul erasure, memories of him are gone from you completely, meaning this leads to a fresh start.

——————————————————————————————————

Wanderer stood alone, his back pressed against the stone wall of the quiet Sumeru courtyard, watching as the gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the trees above. It had been days since the event that brought him back to his true self, the moment when his memories returned like a flood—memories of his past, his anger, his pain, his love, and his loss. Most of all, he remembered her.

You.

He closed his eyes, gripping his hand into a fist, the memory of your face—the kindness in your eyes, the way you always put up with his cruel words, and yet never once abandoned him. How you stood by him, even when he treated you like a pile of mud, how you loved him when he believed he wasn’t worthy of love.

But that was before. That was before he made a choice to sever the last strings of his humanity, to take the Electro Gnosis, to run from the Fatui and his past, and to rise above it all. He had chosen power over everything else, and in doing so, he had abandoned you—left you behind with nothing but the echoes of his betrayal.

Now, after losing all that, after everything that had come back to him, he was ashamed. Ashamed to face the one person who had always been there, the one person who had stood by his side when no one else would.

He didn’t deserve you.

But fate, also known as Nahida’s meddling, it seemed, had a different plan.

“Hey, Wanderer!” Nahida’s voice broke his thoughts, light and insistent as always.

His eyes snapped open, his heart racing at the sound of her voice. She had found him again.

“You’ve been avoiding her,” Nahida started, her tone casual, but the glint in her eyes told him she knew more than she let on. “You know you can’t keep running forever.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wanderer said sharply, turning to face her. He tried to mask the pain in his voice, but Nahida saw right through him. She always did. Even without reading his mind. She’s not the Goddess of Wisdom for nothing.

“You think I don’t understand?” Nahida crossed her arms, her expression softening. “You think you can just forget everything, including her? You think it’s easy to erase something like that? You can’t outrun your past, Wanderer. Especially not when it comes to her.”

“I’ve already made my choices,” he muttered, his voice heavy. “I don’t deserve to see her again, not after everything I did. After all the hurt I caused her…”

Nahida’s eyes softened. “[y/n] doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember you as Scaramouche or Kunikuzushi, thanks to Irminsul’s erasure. But she’s still forgiving, Wanderer. And you’re still deserving. You deserve a chance to start over. Maybe this time, you can do it right.”

His chest tightened at the mention of your name, a part of him angry, a part of him scared. “I don’t deserve her forgiveness. Not after what I did. She deserves better than me.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Nahida said, her voice sharp, the authority of an Archon present in her words. “She’ll find her own path, but you have to face her. At least give her the chance to make her own decision. Otherwise, you’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Before he could protest, Nahida was already gone, vanishing into the wind with her usual quiet grace. Wanderer stood there, alone again, his thoughts swirling like a storm.

He had been running from his own past for so long. But now, there was no escaping it.

——————————————————————————————————

It didn’t take long before Wanderer found himself near the bustling market square, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound of the crowd, the merchants haggling, the smell of sweet pastries filled the air, but his mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in that crowd, you were waiting, oblivious to the person he once was, to the pain he had caused you.

He could see you now, standing near a stall, bargaining with a merchant. Your laughter after you won the bargain, light and carefree, rang out across the square. You looked the same — your smile, the way you held yourself, the joy in your eyes.

But you didn’t know him. Not as he was. Not as Scaramouche, or the one who had left you broken and abandoned. You knew nothing of the boy he had been, the man he had become, and the pain he carried.

He wanted to turn around, to leave before you could see him. But something inside him — the part of him that remembered the warmth of your touch, the softness of your voice, the way you have always believed in him — held him in place.

Wanderer took a deep breath and stepped forward, his heart heavy, his mind racing.

You turned at the sound of footsteps, your eyes landing on the stranger who had appeared before you. A man, with, honestly some striking features, his indigo hair in a jellyfish cut and a giant kasa hat on his head. There was something… familiar about him. The way his eyes held a weight, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders, and the way he stood, almost as if waiting for something.

For a moment, you two simply stared at each other, the air between thick with unspoken words.

“Do I know you?” you asked, your voice indifferent, feeling confused at the stranger staring at you.

Wanderer swallowed, his throat dry. “I… I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice low, almost too quiet.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. You didn’t know why, but you felt… drawn? to this man, like there was something you were supposed to remember. But it was fleeting, slipping away before you could grasp it.

He took a step back, as if realizing something, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words heavy with regret. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Before you could say anything else, he turned to leave, his back already retreating into the crowd.

But something inside you stirred—an impulse you couldn’t explain. Without thinking, you called out to him, “Wait!”

Wanderer stopped, his body tense, as if caught between two worlds.

“Do you…” you hesitated, the question lingering in the air, your hand fidgeting as a sign of nervousness. “Do you need help with something?”

Wanderer turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers again. The briefest flicker of recognition passed between the two, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, the words unspoken.

“I… I think I’ve made a mistake,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”

With that, he vanished into the crowd, leaving you standing there, your heart racing, a strange sense of loss tugging at you.

——————————————————————————————————

Wanderer didn’t know what he was running from. But as he disappeared into the streets of Sumeru, away from you and the fleeting chance to right the wrongs of the past, he realized something: no matter how much he tried to forget, he could never escape the truth.

He didn’t deserve you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make it right.

[hp-hcs]

teenage dirtbag — yandere! asshole! theodore nott x obsessed! gn! reader x barely mentioned! enzo berkshire

requested

y’all be writing some long ass requests, so i’m posting this without the ask ✌️🥲

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“He’s not a slut!”

“Yeah, well, you only think that ‘cause you want him to sleep with you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m not just in it for the sex, dipshit.”

Harry snorted. “You’re also not not in it for the sex.”

“Are you calling me a slut now?” You asked, pressing a hand against your chest in mock-offense. “I thought we were friends, you two-faced bitch.”

“Anyways, my point being,” Ron interrupted. “He’s a violent manwhore druggie with a superiority complex and daddy issues. He’s a serial cheater, a Slytherin, and a literal Death Eater, Y/n.”

You nodded in acknowledgment as you thought about the very valid points he brought up. “Yeah, but he’s hot.”

“I swear to Merlin, Y/n-”

~~~

“‘…I think you’re really cute and funny, and-’”

“What are you idiots doing?”

“You’ve got a secret admirer, Notty-boy,” Mattheo snorted, waving the letter he was holding.

“‘Secret’.” Draco mumbled, putting the word in air quotes.

The rest of the boys crowded around Mattheo, snickering as they read the love letter over his shoulder.

“You’ve even got flowers, Theo,” Blaise pretended to swoon. “How romantic!”

“L/n’s fuckin’…obsessed, man,” Mattheo shook his head in disbelief as he looked up from skimming the letter in order to point to the small pile of Valentine’s Day gifts that had been left on Theo’s bed.

Theodore groaned. “Salazar- I just don’t understand how they don’t get that I’m not into them.”

“Problems in your love life there, Nott?” Draco teased.

“They’re just so…clingy. And obnoxious. Constantly following me around ‘n shit.”

“Yes, having someone who’s head over heels in love with you must be so difficult,” Enzo deadpans. “However do you manage to survive?”

“Oh, shut up,” Theo scoffed.

~~~

“Here comes your worshipper, Nott,” Malfoy snickers, surreptitiously pointing towards you, who was making a beeline over to the Slytherin table.

“My- ah, shit.”

Theo frowned in annoyance as his friends burst into raucous laughter.

“Hi, Nott!” You greeted cheerily, a light blush on your face. “I was wondering if you’d like to go down to Hogsmeade to get a butterbeer with me?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your feeble attempts at flirting. It was common knowledge that Theodore Nott didn’t do committed relationships, so why were you still trying?

“No.”

Your face fell. “Oh. Alright, then.”

Enzo glanced over.

“Next weekend maybe?” You tried again hesitantly.

“Merlin- You’re pathetic, L/n,” Theodore finally snapped. “How about you go get a life of your own instead of trying so hard to be in mine?”

You flinched back, your eyes widening, before you turned on your heel and left the Great Hall without another word.

~~~

“Oh- L/n’s here, Theo,” Mattheo snickered, watching you walk over to the Slytherins’ studying area in the library.

Theodore rolled his eyes, preparing for another barrage of mushy gushy romance bullshit. But you merely stepped around his chair with a murmured excuse me and continued down the row.

He watched, startled, as you stopped behind the study area’s couch and draped your arms over Berkshire’s shoulders.

Theo blinked.

Enzo, not even flinching or getting distracted by your sudden presence, just grinned to himself and clasped a hand around both of yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into the join between your wrist and palm as he continued his discussion with Blaise.

Theodore felt sick.

Then he heard you laugh at something Enzo said, and that’s what made him completely lose it.

He fumed. How dare Berkshire even look at you, let alone touch you? Berkshire didn’t deserve you. Who the fuck did he think he was?

You were his.

And Theodore would be damned if he was going to let Berkshire steal you away from him.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Taking Care of Drunk Peter

Peter Quill X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Drunk Peter, angst, reader keeps her feelings from Peter

Word Count: 833

(A/N:) I really didn’t think my first Peter Quill imagine was going to do so good so I wrote another! There is no greater joy when my readers really like what I write. Y’all are so amazing and I love being able to do this as it is an escape for me. And it lets me share my interest with so many others! Thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging. It just keeps me going and I can’t wait to share more stories with you all! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

After Nebula left Peter in his room, she came straight to you asking you to go keep an eye on him. The Guardians knew how much you cared for Peter and though it was a tough request you readily agreed. Your crush on Peter was a topic that no one discussed, especially around Peter. It hurt to hear him talk about his love for Gamora and while you were happy for him to find some happiness in life, it broke your heart. You didn’t ask to feel that deeply for him, but fate could be cruel most of the time. You never wanted Peter to know that he hurt you in anyway, especially now that he was dealing with his loss in an unhealthy way. Slowly making your way to his darkened room, you made sure not to make any noise. Peter snored loudly, snuggled deep in his blankets until you turned him over on his side. While Nebula had good intentions on making him as comfortable as possible, with how drunk Peter is you didn’t want him to choke on his own vomit. 

Getting comfortable for a long night, you turned on a lamp that wouldn’t bother Peter while he slept. You opened the book he had bought you awhile ago and began reading until he needed you or you fell asleep. After hours of keeping watch, Peter’s snores began to lull you into slumber and it didn’t take long until you fell asleep as well. It was early the next morning when you heard pained groans coming from the bed by the window. Shoving off the blanket you had found, you were by Peter’s bedside in an instant. He had set up with his feet on the floor but his head was in his hands. You could almost see the pressure in his temples from the hangover that was punishing him now. Quickly getting him some water and pain killers you knelt at his side, gently touching his arm. He jolted finally realizing he wasn’t alone in his room.

“How long have you been here,” he asked after downing the medicine you gave him.

“All night,” you replied going back to the sink to refill the glass. “Nebula was worried about you so she had me stay here to make sure you were alright.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Peter took the offered glass and downed the whole cup in seconds.

You sighed taking the glass and setting it down on the bedside table. “Yes I do Peter. You’re not taking care of yourself and we’re all worried about you.”

“All,” he scoffed.

“Yes Peter,” you huffed starting to get mad, “all of us actually care about you shocking right?”

“Don’t get angry my head is killing me.”

“Cause you won’t stop drinking yourself into a stupor,” you shook him causing Peter to hiss as he felt like his brain was rattling around in his skull. “We all miss Gamora and it sucks that she’s not here but do you think she would want you to treat yourself like this?”

“No.”

His reply was short and you could tell that he didn’t like you trying to peel back the layers he had taken so long to build up. But you couldn’t let him continue on like this and you weren’t about to lose him all over again.

“Please take care of yourself Peter. Gamora would want that for you,” you paused taking a deep breath. “I want that for you. I care a lot for you Peter and I can’t take seeing you hurt like this. I never said anything because of Gamora, but you deserve to know. I’m tired of keeping the lie to myself.”

Peter wordlessly grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Clearly this had been something you had hidden from him for so long and now that you saw the pain he was dealing with, you felt the need to get rid of yours. He cared for you deeply and never wanted to hurt you in such a way. He felt like a jerk, flaunting his and Gamora’s relationship around and now talking about how much he missed her. You had to watch while he went down in flames and he could never bring himself to forgive himself for making you feel such heart break.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled fighting back tears.

“It’s okay,” you said your voice muffled by his shirt.

“No it’s not,” Peter whispered.

“It’ll get okay Pete,” you pulled away so you could smile up at him. The tears in your eyes causing it to waver but you wouldn’t let the smile drop from your face. “It takes time but it will turn out okay. Just promise me Peter that you’ll take better care of yourself from now on.”

Peter nodded, pulling you back into him. You didn’t fight or argue, just letting yourself live in this moment. Letting the air clear between you both as time would heal all wounds.

[dendrite-blues]

Lock In, Friends. We're the Resistance Now.

Things in the American left wing have been pretty gloomy this week. Lots of retrospectives, lots of “I told you so,” lots of doomy predictions.

I share the feeling. I understand it. It’s gutting to experience such a decisive defeat from a party who claims that caring for people is too expensive, but "there's no price tag” on harming them. We would have to sociopaths to not be upset about that.

However, I think we need to be mindful of how our emotions frame our reality.

I don’t think it’s particularly wise for us to invest too much energy into the news cycle. It only serves to exhaust and demoralize people by overwhelming them with a tsunami of problems. The sum total of the threats feels insurmountable, and so we throw up our hands and accept that the end is nigh.

I understand the camp of people who are willing to sit back and accept the suffering as long as the Y’all Qaeda suffers too.

We all feel frustrated and resentful, because in the course of fighting for freedom, leftists and liberals inevitably end up fighting for the rights of people who do not appreciate it, will not help defend it from future infringement, and are actively voting against it. And that fucking sucks.

But throwing up our hands and watching the world burn does mean that we will burn too, and I don’t know about you, but I like my flesh un-scorched.

Therefore, before all else, we must be willing to block out the noise. We must stop giving our attention to a mass media who are cosigning our destruction, and focus our attention on tangible, achievable, local action. We must ask ourselves, “What cause truly matters do me? What cause do I care for more than my comfort or safety?”

Some people will answer, “None,” and that’s okay. They would be poor allies anyhow. We let them go in peace.

For the rest of us, the people who care even in foul weather and terrible odds, we must gather ourselves around the campfires of those heartfelt causes. We must make close bonds with our true allies, and devise plans for how we can draw a line in the sand of our values and say, “No more. You will not take away our healthcare/our mutual aid/our ability to protest and exercise free speech/our right to exist and love who we do.”

It will feel alien to those of use who are accustomed to paying attention to everything. It will feel like we are letting our neighbors and their causes down. But we are not, we are actually helping them a great deal by ensuring that our campfire does not spread uncontained about the woods.

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Because we are focusing on our fire, they can ignore it and invest that extra energy the spent watching our fire to defend their fire better. And we, likewise, can pay less attention to them and trust that they will handle it.

Which leads quite nicely into my second point with this letter; in our ongoing fight for freedom, the preservation of hope and our spirit must be the absolute first priority.

They have been working tirelessly for nearly a decade to break our spirits and push us into apathy. They are closer to succeeding now than they have been for a long time. The antidote to this psychic damage is psychic healing. We must take care of our own.

If you are holding a door closed against an intruder, you won’t last long with a broken ankle. You won’t be able to plant your feet if your socks are sweaty and the soles of your shoes have no traction. You would also fair much better with a friend who is also pushing.

People in our lives are hurting, and so we have to help them heal.

It sounds daunting when we’re all feeling so tired and wrung-out, when we feel deep in our hearts that this country deserves to go to the dogs. We think, “how could I possible support someone else when I’m barely staying on my feet already?”

There is some truth to that. That’s why I’m moving to a blue state. That’s why I’m cutting off people who I don’t think I can reach.

Put your gas mask on before assisting others. It’s common sense.

But at the same time, don’t take it for granted that helping drains you of energy.

Certain people are quite draining, and certain types of help can require a lot of energy, but we don’t have to do that kind of help all the time.

When you are feeling worn out, a hug can be a revolutionary act. A night of karaoke with friends. A cup of tea, an empowering conversation, one-line text message welfare checks—these are revolutionary acts, because they keep people motivated. They remind them that life continues even under oppression.

We lost the election, but the battle for our souls is still being fought. The legislature doesn’t determine how our movement goes forward. No candidates or conventions dictate how we gather and speak and coordinate.

Are we headed to another civil rights movement, where signs and song and massive, multi-cultural coalitions stand together and tell the government where they can stick it?

Or are we headed for a slow, self-defeating whimper that rolls effortlessly into an interminable era of rigged elections, single-party politics, and dissidents being disappeared from the streets in broad daylight?

Donald Trump doesn’t get to choose, and neither does Elon Musk.

We don't control the game or the rules, but we do get to decide if we're even going to try and win or if we'll just forfeit at the start.

It’s in our hands.

And we will absolutely surrender that choice if we give too much quarter to grief and anger. We will kneecap our own chances for freedom if we neglect our collective well-being and give our energy to the vampires on both sides of the punditry.

I believe the thought leaders on the left are well-meaning. I believe our bickering and pontificating flow naturally from our identities as intellectuals and humanitarians, and I think it’s important for us to have those conversations. But we need to have them at the right time, and we need to have them after we’ve patched up our wounded and put on fresh socks and tied our shoelaces good and tight.

We need to take care of our own and give them little bits of love to cling to, to remember the world we’re fighting for—a world where everyone is equal, everyone is whole, everyone is cared for and sheltered and connected to a community.

We have to give people a taste of the world they deserve, and it’s not even that hard to do because it turns out that when we make a space of healing for our community, that space heals us too.

In the face of oppression, survival is an act of rebellion. Gather your people close and ask them how you can help. When they tell you, take their answer seriously and do what you can to improve their situation. When you need support, don’t be proud. Go to your people and tell them.

Human beings are categorically shitty at imagining better times when their thoughts are steeped in depression and despair. In order to have any chance of a better future, we need good, hopeful ideas. Therefore, now and in the future, our first impulse should always be to care for our people. Nothing good can happen until our minds are free of our demons.

So go out today and find yourself some peace. Find relief, or get as close as you can. And when you’ve had enough relief to feel angry, to feel fired up and pissed off and impatient to take on the Horrors, channel that feeling into giving someone you love peace and relief.

And for fuck’s sake, turn off your phone notifications. You don’t need that shit activating your amygdala 24 hours a day. Check once in the evening so you’re informed, and then run far away. You’ll better off, and you’ll have more energy to improve the world around you.

The enemy is apathy. Don’t be an easy mark.

Let's all get our heads straight, and find the dim spark within us that still hungers for a better future.

The Horrors persist, but so do we.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Den

[imaginespazzi]

stated it will never not tickle me that you give a preamble about how much you don't like the chapter before dropping the most earth shattering amazing chapter ever.

I mean, don't get too cocky I have multiple bones to pick with you, but it was really good ok?!

Before I dive in here, I wanna wish you an extremely amazing vacation! As an Italian American I want to warn you that Italian girls are incredible sexy and if that other person you were fucking with is still being fickle, you should def bang some Italian chick, and get some inspiration for writing smut because you are currently EDGING US TO DEATH.

August 2025

Wow it just occurred to me that in this universe Azzi went back for her 5th year, so at the time of the proposal Azzi is 22 and still planning on spending another year at UConn? Paige what are you doing.

"She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises."

By excited chatter do you mean women yelling PAIGE I LOVE YOU and screaming and throwing their panties at her?

No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

gut punch for us PaigeWithLotsOfLesbianRings-sexuals

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

ok this may be out of pocket but I think Paige and Tea would make a really hot couple. I mean if Azzi left her for you Nivi, and that is the only reason P would be single ok?

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

you loooove writing heartbreaking scenes that take place in the back parking lot of a bar where they talk about pretending huh? “Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

well now I have to go commit myself to a psychiatric hospital because I am crying while reading a fanfic about a real life couple who are on the university of Connecticut women's basketball team. Great!

if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world

Annnnd Paige's impending panic attack in the present day story is going to be about…

April 2033

“you look phenomenal.”

ok after I read this line my inner monologue was literally "wow big word Paige", so the next line you wrote is technically plagiarism

“Foreplaying,”

ok I loved this cause it was finally a reference to something sexual between them. Up until now its technically been a chapter of the book of Mormon.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

so at this point Paige just wakes up, gets ready for the day, goes to Azzi's for the entire day, then gets home and immediately goes to sleep?

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

def not in the Book of Mormon anymore Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

this line is line is extremely Paige accurate

April 2029

“she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

wow stab and twist

Ok honestly justice for Olivia, girl deserves to be fucking furious.

"How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

oh ok, im crying again

April 2033

Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates.

ok mystics game reference

“and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,”

ok in this Universe is it not canon that most womens basketball fans know these two are a couple? Like is it common knowledge to these other players that they are non-platonic or is it a pre-leak reality? “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

ok I can just hear this in a French accent and Paige just making the most disgusted American face possible “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

This proves Paige is no rizzler at all, because a rizzler would know that a woman does not want a sugary frozen blended drink at a club “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive

oh, ok, so now you have me feeling sympathy for this French fry? You are the QUEEN of writing 'the other woman'

It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

NEVER BEEN FURTHER FROM THE BOOK OF MORMON

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

I AM SO SCARED RIGHT NOW

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

wow Paige, weird time to be all domestic n shit

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

OMG Azzi showing uninhibited emotion this is crazy

“we hooked up a couple of times,”

thats it?! wow Clem has no game, I am proud to be an American - where at least i know im freeeeee

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

oh now im crying from my eyes AND my vagina. But most of all I'm MAD- MAD at you for ending the chapter there, and not showing us the SEX, then going at least two weeks without a chapter - EDGING US TO DEATH. 🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻

Ahahaha tbf I'm a bad judge of my own writing because reading it lowkey makes me die the first time 😭

Well as much as I can confirm that Italian women are in fact stunning, I am a) on vacation with my family which includes my strict-ish parents and b) my situationship is in a pretty good place right now

That is in fact exactly what I mean by excited chapter

Listen if Azzi every leaves her for me, idc who that blonde decides to do at that point. Téa is drop dead gorgeous tho.

There are apparently some common tropes that I must write about these two i.e back of the bar heartbreak, phone calls...I have a formula

If it helps, in real life those two are being disgustingly domestic visiting each other's families and acting like an old married couple where one of them builds while the other appreciates the scene so...

LMAO same braincells fr so it's not actually plagiarism

BOOK OF MORMOM 😭😭😭

Yep that's a very apt description of Paige's day really.

Fun little tidbit that I named the character Clémence solely so I could make a clementine joke.

In GH Pazzi were firmly a secret the whole time

I enjoy writing the "other woman" as a woman who was wrongly "other-ed" if that makes sense?

Listen I think we should all clap for Azzi because girlie's taking some steps, baby ones fs, but STEPS!

I think you'll like next chapters babes ;)

[jedimasterbailey]

Hello, friend. 🖤🤍📖💀 for the ask game, please. 🙏

Hello there friend 💙💚 Thank you for the ask and thank you for choosing some questions that really make me think 🤔 let’s do this!

Link to the original ask questions below if y’all wanna play along which please do because I love to snoop 👀

🖤- Which character is not as morally good as everyone seems to think?

Dooku and yes I know he’s a Sith Lord and not considered a hero by any means but since the Tales of the Jedi episodes (which I love btw don’t @ me there) but I feel that fandom kinda looks at him like they do with Anakin. That even though Dooku and Anakin have done HORRIBLE INEXCUSABLE crimes that killed so many people and betrayed their loved ones that just because they “had their reasons” then that makes them worthy of sympathy when in reality that shouldn’t be the case. Dooku didn’t do what he did for the greater good or to serve others; he did what he did to serve himself and what he wanted. Dooku knew what the Empire was going to be (I.e. an all human regime that oppress alien races) and yet still went along with it thinking he could rule that regime himself one day. I don’t care that he was hurt by losing Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan; he still hurt and betrayed them regardless. If you ever read the Master and Apprentice book by Claudia Gray, you would come to find out Qui-Gon was 1.) terrified of Dooku because of his very dark actions 2.) Overlooked him for his first Padawan (Aveross I think his name was?) and 3.) Fixated on his own interests over being a proper teacher for Qui-Gon. In short, Dooku is a pretentious self serving privileged man of status and power and that’s that. The moral compass he has is whatever benefits him.

🤍-Which character is not as morally bad as everyone else seems to think?

Mace. Windu. For fucks sake y’all he is NOT a bad man! Had it not been for Anakin’s choices, he would have ended the Clone Wars once and for all and brought peace to the galaxy avenging every single soul who have lost their lives or sacrificed so much in the war that never needed to happen. Anyone who has read the Legends Shatterpoint novel or pay attention to Mace’s actions/words in the Clone Wars show and in the movies can see that Mace is a very admirable Jedi that anyone should look up to. His fighting style is all about using the Dark Side against those who use it which means this man has had to master his own demons for sake of doing good. That is a very rare quality even amongst the Jedi. He stays true to himself and Jedi philosophy within reason despite others trying to sway him. He also raised Depa who we all know is a wonderful woman who went on to teach Kanan who was a great Jedi. So yes, Mace was more than deserving of his rank and if he was such a bad man who come no one in his lineage ever turned to the Dark Side or left the Order? Clearly he was doing something right. And don’t even go down the tone deaf “he was mean to Anakin” route because Mace was always understanding, trusting, and respectful of Anakin, he was just trying to save Anakin from himself. We love and respect Mace Windu in this house 💜

📖-If you had to remove one book from the series, which would you choose?

The Ahsoka book for sure, sorry to those who like it but it’s not for me and that’s okay since not all books are gonna be everyone’s taste. As a Barrissoka stan I can’t stand whatshernuts constantly being up Ahsoka’s ass and causing her problems. Ahsoka was doing just fine on her own trying to survive after very traumatic events, losing everything she knew, and learning to survive in a galaxy that wants you dead for who you are until of course the stupid ass village needed saving. The book could have had a much better plot. The only parts of the book I liked where when Ahsoka was alone in her thoughts processing and trying to decide her next move. We could have had a very healing story much like Obi-Wan did in his show but nope. Furthermore, I’ve got beef with E.K Johnson for many reasons, the major one being that she’s a very ignorant person that tries to be the “white savior” so… yeah not fond of her work, her views of these characters we love so much, or the story she made for Ahsoka.

💀-If you had to choose one major character to die, who would you choose?

Palpatine of course because without out him the entire galaxy would be spared from mass genocide, destruction, pain, suffering, and pure evil. All of our favorite characters would have a much happier ending 😭 we also wouldn’t have dickheads like Tarkin rising to any position of power.

Link to original unpopular opinion asks

[becauseimswagman1]

What Are We pt. 5

A/N:SHE'S BACKKKKKKKK~

A/N: the way this fic was inspired by a single photoshoot Michael did and I'm close to writing it in, but at the same time I'm not cause that means the fic will be over. But here's part 5.

_____________________________

The events of last night burned through your mind as you awoke in the bed next to the man you’ve wanted since what seems like the beginning of time, except that every man wasn’t there.

Thoughts of anxiety haunted your mind, but why wouldn’t they? He confessed to you last night, that should count for something right?

You sat up in bed and checked your phone on the nightstand. He’d have called or at least texted you if he was leaving right?

Tears started to form in your eyes, but you decided to stay positive. Maybe he’s out getting breakfast or on a morning jog right? He jogs in the morning, right? You never paid too much attention to his workout routine to know anything about it.

Before your thoughts could possibly get any worse, here comes Michael with a tray full of food, “Good morning sleepyhead. I made your favorite breakfast with the option of regular juice or a mimo-” Michael saw your face, sad with tears ready to fall at any moment, “Hey, what’s going on?”

He sat the tray down on your bedside table, sat next to you in the bed, and held you in his arms, “Did I do something?”

Holy fuck. You just assumed that he’d be an asshole and leave you in the morning like a few of your past hookups, of course, he’s different.

“I… I thought you left me. You know a good ole fuck and duck.” you couldn’t help but sniffle and try to hide it with a chuckle, trying hard to forget that you were about to cry over him possibly jetting off after a night of fun.

Michael only held you tighter, “Why would I do that? Did I not just confess my love to you last night? It doesn’t make sense that I’d do that.” he chuckles, “I was only downstairs making us breakfast. I made really big pancakes with chocolate chips in them. Just the way you like them.”

You wiped your eyes and moved out of his arms, “Okay okay let’s not focus on how I thought you were being an ass. Let’s focus on this wonderful breakfast you made,” you side-eye him a bit laughing, “and see if it’s even edible.”

He made a face, “Oh you got jokes now?? Weren’t you just about to cry cause you thought I left?” now it’s your turn to make a face, “Yeah got that ass.”

Michael picked up the tray and sat it in front of y’all, “Let me feed you.” And feed you he did. Pancakes aren’t something you can fuck up, but people really can’t cook sometimes. Luckily Michael can. He even made your coffee correctly, which says a lot about how closely he pays attention to you. You’re very particular about how you drink your coffee at home.

It’s really the little things that make you fall for him. Over the years the two of you have been friends, there has never been such a moment as this. This is the timeless and epic love you only see in movies that you had been, not necessarily, searching for.

After making sure you and he ate a good amount, he took the tray and you to the kitchen, “So I had to be here to watch you wash my dishes?”

You were confused about what was going on.

Michael held up the letter he told you not to read until he left the state, “I don’t want you to read this anymore.” you had a confused look on your face and before you could ask, he answered the unasked question, “I don’t want you to read it anymore because everything I wanted to say to you in this letter, I said to you last night…. Well… almost everything. Everything I wanna say to you couldn’t have been crammed into one night. This letter does sum it up, but you deserve to hear it verbally. You deserve to know that I mean it.”

You chuckled nervously, a little unsure how to feel about this, “You sure I can’t just read the letter? I feel like that would make things better.”

Michael held your hands in his, “I know you aren’t used to someone expressing themselves romantically to you like this, but get used to it.” he took in a breath, “I like you, a lot. I’ve liked you for a while now, but never had the chance to tell you, hence why I wrote the letter, but last night happened. Way to speed up the process unknowingly.” he winks at you, chuckling nervously. “And honestly, like is an understatement becauseI love you. I love you so much that it hurts to even think about you being with anyone that isn’t me. You mean the world to me and if I lost you, ever, I'd lose the biggest piece of myself. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And every time I think about the future, I see you in it, with me. It’s always us together in some shape or form.”

You had tears in your eyes at the confession. He loved you? In a romantic way?? You honestly thought this day never would’ve come. Are you that bad at picking up signals?

“Michael, I love you too. I never thought you reciprocated any type of feelings beyond friend. I don’t know what to say other than that I love you, too.”

He smiled, “Kiss me?”

And kiss him you did. This kiss was different than last night. This kiss was not alcohol clouded or lust-induced. This kiss means everything to you both. It’s the sparks flying, one leg lifting, touching your lips after it’s done kissing.

“Woah… that was… wow.”

“Feels good to kiss you and not be embarrassed about it,” you said then licking your lips.

Now that you two have established that you like each other, it’s time for another hard conversation… the “what are we?” conversation, but that could wait until you’re sure. But how sure could you get? You know what you want? But does he?

Michael sat next to you, “Yeah it does. So… I was wondering if you’d like to go on an official date sometime?”

“Duh! I mean yeah, yeah…um, it can’t be tonight, though, can it? I know you got a photoshoot and-”

He chuckles, “Speaking of that, can you edit those photos for me?”

“I’d love to. What type of photoshoot is it?”

“Kinda nude. Don’t worry I’m not gonna be completely naked.”

Giggling, “Well it’s not like I haven’t seen a considerable amount already so.”

“I meant the back!”

“Oh, I’ve seen that already.” you waved him off.

“Pfft, no you haven’t.”

“Yeah. I have. That night we went to the beach in the wintertime and I dared you to skinny dip. You weren’t so good at covering yourself up after helping me finish two bottles of Vodka.” You laughed at the memory. Y’all were so messed up that night.

He laughed right along with you, “Oh my God! That’s right! I had the worst hangover. It’s the reason I haven’t touched it since.”

“Mhmmm. So, what time is your photoshoot?”

“At six. It’s a good time to use the natural lighting.”

“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time.”

“To do what exactly?”

You stood up, “To clean my house up, specifically my bedroom.” You started walking towards your room.

Michael had a little smirk on his face and followed close behind, “Is this your way of telling me that you want some dick again?”

“I-”

He held his finger over your mouth, “Shh. I know it was some of, if not the best, dick you've ever had. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

With muffled speech, “No, my room is a mess.”

He removed his finger, “Oh. Well… let’s get to cleaning.”

AFTER CLEANING. FIVE FORTY-FIVE PM

So… you did get some fantastic head. The two of you took a shower together after cleaning and he wanted to give you something to think about while he was gone.

“Hey, I’m about to leave,” Michael said while grabbing his car keys.

You responded from the couch, “Okay, I’ll be here catching up on some work.”

He walked over to the couch and kissed your forehead, “Don’t work too hard.”

You smiled a bit, “Of course.”

He smiled, “Ite, then I’m out! See you in a few hours. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Be safe.”

As soon as he walked out the door and you heard his car crank, you got up and jumped around. Y’all will discuss relationship shit later… and schedule that date, but it doesn’t matter right now! Life is too good right now.

_________________________

Redoing my taglist so lmk if you wanna be added

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: Battle on the Tower

AN: This is the chapter I’ve been waiting to write (and also well…if you’re reading this I assume you’ve seen the movie so y’all know what’s gonna happen next). 

AO3 link

Ch 20: Battle on the Tower 

Nothing truly mattered anymore. 

Not the throne, not the crown, not even breaking the curse. Only a single fragile petal remained on the wilted rose. Its vibrant beauty had faded to a dull, brittle brown, a far cry from the verdant green and crimson red it had once been. 

Without its shine, the West Wing was dark and hopeless, nothing more than the obliterated remains of a monster who clung too hard to a prestigious title he’d never earned, nor deserved in the first place. 

Pinky wasn’t coming back. He had his family and freedom now, and no reason to return to the castle. 

The Beast never wanted Pinky to leave, but Pinky’s happiness lay somewhere else, in an impossible place that the Beast could never reach. 

He could only hope that Pinky reached his father in time. Without the mirror, he didn’t have the ability to see if Pinky succeeded. 

Perhaps it was better that he gifted the mirror to Pinky after all, or he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from Pinky’s image if he’d kept it.  

Gone were the warm nights in the library, the laughter, the optimism and hope and his gentle touch. 

He’d dumped the formal suit into an old wardrobe after Pinky’s departure. Let the moths have it, for all he cared. He didn’t see the point in pretending to be something he wasn’t anymore. 

The last petal would fall any time now, sealing the Beast and the entire castle’s fate. 

Until then, all the Beast could do was sit by the window and watch the thunderstorm unfold. There was nothing else left for him. 

Suddenly, there was movement outside, past the sheet of water and mist that covered the window pane. Though the Beast couldn’t see much more than moving shadows and vague outlines, his heartbeat quickened with a feeling he dared describe as hope. 

Could it be? 

Yet as he peered closer, he realized that there were too many specks of light, too much movement, and too many shadows to be Pinky. 

And that spark of hope was extinguished once more.

The walls trembled around him, dust pouring down from the ceiling. A similar scenario had occurred in his nightmare, but he didn’t have Pinky’s voice and touch to soothe him this time.  

A high-pitched, frantic noise came from the hallway, and the Beast positioned himself in front of the rose. But it was more out of instinct than a true desire to protect it.  

"You have to come help us! A mob of angry villagers are gonna break down the door any minute now!" Dot shouted from the doorway. 

"Leave me in peace," he growled. 

"Didn't you hear me? We're under attack!" Dot cried. "And Snowball is leading the charge! They're chanting about how much they want to kill you!"

If she thought that mentioning Snowball would get a rise out of him, she was sorely mistaken. It didn’t matter who led the charge. 

In another lifetime, the mere mention of Snowball’s name would’ve incensed the Beast. Snowball was the perfect prince, son, hunter, and scholar, the one whose name would go down in history as one of the greatest leaders France had ever seen. 

But trying to live up to French royal standards had only caused the Beast endless strife and loneliness. 

And though his time with Pinky helped clear away some of those feelings, he’d never been able to shake away the notion that he couldn’t be the Prince Charming of Pinky’s fairy tale dreams. 

Now the failure to meet expectations would cost him his life, not that it ever mattered anyway. 

"Then tell everyone to stand down and let them pass. Don't let them know you're alive," the Beast rasped. 

"So you're just…giving up?" Dot protested. 

The Beast said nothing more. This conversation was over. 

Dot left with an incredulous huff, and the Beast knew that the chance of the servants obeying his order to stand down was slim to none. 

This was their castle too. Though he knew they had every right to defend their home, he wished they'd heed him for once. 

Or that he had their will to fight back. 

The tremors stopped, triumphant shouts echoing from below. 

They'd breached the door. 

The air was still with anticipation, and the Beast's acute hearing only picked up on the squeaking of muddy boots and nervous whispers. The servants were all deathly silent.

Perhaps they'd obeyed his orders this time. 

Then a cacophony of crashes, screams, and explosions echoed from below, and the Beast found himself sorely mistaken once again. 

Why can't they just listen for once? 

He was rooted to the spot, helplessness overtaking him. 

He couldn't tell for certain if the battle was in their favor or not. 

If his nightmare of the lifeless, broken servants lying around the castle came to pass…. 

He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. 

Then I deserve my fate. 

Was asking for more time too much? He didn't want those wonderful moments with Pinky to be so fleeting, so final. 

He lightly touched the back of one hand with the other, recalling the soft feel of Pinky's hands against his own. Pinky's gentle touch was nothing but a wistful memory now. 

The laughter and silly words and embraces and sunshine that emanated through Pinky were all sorrow-tinged memories now. 

And how long would it take for those to disappear for good?

All the Beast could do was await discovery by the mob or wait for the final petal to fall. Neither option was avoidable. 

Whether he’d been staring out the window for minutes or hours, he didn’t know. He was numb to his surroundings, unable to discern between the winning and losing side from the sounds of the raging battle. 

The door creaked. 

The Beast looked over his shoulder, expecting a servant to try and convince him to help defend the castle. 

But it was a futile effort. 

His burden weighed so heavily upon him that even the slightest amount of movement was difficult. 

Then he was met with a surprised gasp. 

Standing at the doorway was a face he hadn't seen in a long time. 

Snowball. 

Upon his brow, the hamster's golden, jeweled crown glinted in the dim torchlight. He was dressed in the finery that royals wore when they hunted for sport. His pink eyes narrowed with hatred. 

"You," Snowball snarled, lip curling into an ugly sneer. "Look at you. You've become even more disgusting over the years." 

Once, the Beast might've risen to the bait. Shot back with a heated diatribe of his own, or scream at Snowball for touting his success while the Beast struggled for any sort of recognition. 

But the curse had brought on many new problems, and Snowball's success simply faded into irrelevancy. He'd never visited the castle under the curse, too preoccupied with more important matters. Though the Beast had considered reaching out to Snowball for help during his attempts to break the curse, he realized that Snowball would mock him at best or use his monstrous form as leverage at worst. 

It hadn't been worth his pride. 

And when he was with Pinky, however brief their time was, sometimes he felt like he could finally let go of the resentment he'd built over the years. 

"So this is what you've been doing? Living in squalor and shame for all this time? How pathetic," Snowball sneered, kicking the tattered remains of a curtain aside. 

But a silvery object on Snowball's belt caught the Beast's attention, and all the insults that rolled off Snowball's tongue became unimportant. 

It was all-too familiar in its design, and the Beast didn't know how it came into Snowball's possession. 

"...that's Pinky's mirror," the Beast whispered. Snowball's brow furrowed dangerously, and it was clear that he hadn't expected the Beast to speak at all. "You have Pinky's mirror." 

The words barely passed his lips when Snowball bellowed and charged, ramming his shoulder into the Beast's chest. Caught off-guard, the Beast had no time to prepare as he was thrown into the window, his horns piercing through the glass and shattering it. Shards pricked his fur and skin as he slammed into the wet, unforgiving stone of the West Wing balcony. 

Shattered glass clung to his fur and clothing, pricking his skin as he tried to haul himself to his feet with the balcony railing. It was difficult to stand. The glass shards stung his entire body, but they paled in comparison to the constant, invisible ache within.

A cruel, mocking laugh rang in his ears. Snowball charged him once again, forcefully shoving the Beast over the railing. 

The Beast tumbled down a stone roof, rain pelting him as he landed on top of a small outcropping. He let out an agonized moan, unable to do anything but lie on his stomach and wait for his demise.  

So…this is how it all ends… 

Not in a blaze of glory, nor after a long, industrious life with countless accomplishments to his name, but alone, humiliated, and without dignity. 

And Pinky will never know.

That undeniable fact was the worst of them all. 

Snowball laughed again, his cackle sharp and cruel. A foot dug into the Beast's side, rolling him over until he was on the edge of the outcropping and looking out into the endless abyss below. 

His only options were to fall or die by Snowball's hand. 

"You lived as a miserable failure," Snowball snarled. "And now you shall die a miserable failure, monster." 

The Beast turned his head away. He didn't want to see Snowball ready his weapon, didn't want to see him stalk forward with sadistic glee, didn't want to hear Snowball's mockery even though it was the awful, awful truth. 

Then he heard a voice, a familiar voice, above the howling wind and pouring rain. Though far away, the voice rang loud and clear, providing a rope he could cling to so he wouldn’t fall into the abyss. 

"Beast! Get up! You have to get up right now!" 

It was panicked and desperate, urging the Beast to open his eyes and search for the speaker. 

Could it be? 

Far below the tower was a tiny speck of white and blue.  

“Pinky?” the Beast whispered, craning his neck for a better look. His mind had to be playing tricks on him, forcing him to see the one he wanted to see the most just to torture him further. 

He couldn’t help but be drawn to the sight, even if it was nothing more than an illusion. 

Though the distance was far, he could still make out Pinky’s shining blue eyes and snowy fur, standing out against the bleak landscape like a beacon of light. 

"Stop it, Snowball! Please!" 

No. No, it wasn’t an illusion! 

Pinky came back. He was here. And he was real, so very wonderfully real! 

All the despair he’d felt upon Pinky’s departure vanished, his former strength returning as his heart soared like an eagle. 

Then his ear swiveled towards a sound behind him. 

Snowball. 

Pinky was trying to warn him about Snowball! 

The Beast whirled around just in time to seize a stone club mere inches from his face. Snowball’s eyes widened, his mouth agape as the Beast pushed him back, using the club as leverage to haul himself to his feet.

Snowball hadn’t expected him to fight back, and he didn’t hide his surprise well. The Beast saw Snowball’s weakness in his expression, in the falter of his footsteps, and in the sharp inhale of breath. 

The Beast loomed over Snowball, a powerful rush of energy coursing through his body. And with it came an intense feeling of satisfaction. 

Did Snowball still believe the Beast was weak? Useless? A failure? 

Snarling, the Beast shoved Snowball back until they were no longer on the outcropping. 

You're wrong! You’re all wrong! 

Snowball’s back was pressed up against the tower, his arms trembling as he struggled to regain control of the club from the Beast. Then his brow furrowed, and that was all the warning the Beast had before Snowball kicked him in the ribs, forcing him to let go. 

A lightning bolt zipped through the dark sky, and the Beast’s vision suddenly went blank at the flash of light. Though the loss of sight only lasted a second, a sharp blow to his right cheek sent him crashing to the ground. 

“How pathetic,” Snowball sneered, jabbing the club into the Beast’s stomach. “Where’s all your bravado now, beast?” 

But the Beast would not let himself be defeated that easily, especially when it came to Snowball. 

He relaxed his body, recalling a time so very long ago when Pinky used a similar trick against him during their snowball fight. The Beast had once believed that a strong, unyielding force would overpower anything, but Pinky had shown him that there was a strength to vulnerability. 

To his friends, vulnerability meant support. And to his enemies, though he appeared weak, it was a strategy to bide his time and wait for an opportunity to strike. 

He held his breath, his body still as Snowball prodded him with the club and gloated of his victory, deliberately taking his time to finish off the Beast. 

Don’t react. Listen. Wait. 

Then Snowball painfully trod on the Beast’s tail, and his clawed foot lashed out. His toes caught on fabric, and he heard a loud rip as Snowball fell onto his back with a surprised gasp. 

The Beast stood up and towered over Snowball, whose eyes nervously flickered between the diagonal slash in his tattered shirt and the Beast’s sharp fangs. 

Now Snowball was engulfed within the Beast’s shadow for a change, and the Beast reveled in that glorious feeling.

Snowball was completely petrified as the Beast yanked the club from his hands, tossing it over the edge of the roof and into the darkness. 

Without a weapon, Snowball lost an advantage. 

He seemed to realize this too, and he hastily scrambled out from the Beast’s shadow, launching himself at the conical peak of the tower. He ascended the stone, trying to reach higher ground in an attempt to regain control over the battle. 

But Snowball’s fingers weren’t able to grip the wet stone, and he slipped multiple times during his climb. The Beast went after him, his claws enabling him to make the ascent much faster. 

The Beast bared his fangs once he reached the top, swiping at a struggling Snowball and missing by mere inches. Snowball winced, his focus turning to the clawmarks the Beast had gouged in the stone above his head. 

That error would cost him. 

The Beast crept closer, fully intending to hit his target this time, but Snowball’s attention quickly snapped back to the battle as he latched onto the end of the Beast’s long cape, which had billowed in his direction from the high wind. 

The Beast gasped for breath, the cape pulling uncomfortably against his throat as Snowball climbed up to the Beast’s level. He fumbled for the latch around his neck, trying to release the pressure, when a sharp pain suddenly struck his shoulder, something embedding itself into his body. 

With a furious roar, the Beast reached for the offending object, and the agony that came with pulling it out was even worse than getting struck. He threw the bloodied arrow aside, his shoulder constantly stinging as a thin red stream trickled down his back. 

Snowball released the Beast’s cloak, drawing another arrow from a quiver hidden under his cape. His eyes narrowed as he took aim with his bow. 

The Beast forced himself to ignore the pain, charging forward on all fours and crashing into Snowball before the arrow flew loose. The Beast’s hands clamped around Snowball’s shoulders as they fell from the tower, tumbling through the air. Snowball lost his grip on the bow, the arrows slipping out of their quiver and falling far out of reach. 

The golden crown upon Snowball’s head slipped off, the prized item sharing the bow and arrow’s fate. 

They crashed into one of the lower spires, rolling down the slope until they hit a landing covered with gargoyles. Snowball kicked a disoriented Beast off, taking a moment to catch his breath before stumbling to his feet. 

Needing time to recover from the fall, the Beast concealed himself within the shadows, hiding among the numerous gargoyles that lined the spire. ‘

Snowball coughed, a twisted snarl on his face as he stumbled forward in search of the Beast. He had no weapon in his hands, nothing except his rage spurring him to continue the fight. 

His amber fur was disheveled, his clothing shredded beyond repair. His pink eyes narrowed in hatred as he scanned his surroundings, waiting for the Beast to show himself. With the loss of his crown, he no longer looked like the prince he proclaimed himself to be. 

Snowball prowled around the ledge, hunched over on all fours. 

“Come out and fight!” Snowball growled. He let out a low, malicious cackle. “Or are you too cowardly to face me?” 

Despite the taunt, the Beast did not reveal himself. 

Snowball didn’t pull out a weapon, nor did he appear to have a strategy for victory. He was fueled by pure spite, focused on nothing but attacking with brute force until he won.

It was a destructive impulse that the Beast knew all too well. 

“A beast falling in love with a mouse! Imagine that!” Snowball laughed. 

The Beast stifled a growl, claws digging into the stone to prevent himself from springing out too soon. Snowball would say anything to lure him out, and he refused to take the bait. 

Snowball crept forward, his fingers splayed like claws. “What could you possibly give Pinky that would make him want you? Fleas? Cobwebs? Dust? Why would he want all that, when I could make him a queen instead?” 

The Beast stared down at his claws. 

He’d never be able to give Pinky the same luxurious life that Snowball could afford, he couldn’t deny that. 

But Pinky came back. And that means…maybe, there’s something he wants here.  

Knowing that he’d get to see Pinky again brought the Beast some comfort, but this battle had to end. He didn’t have much energy left, even while he recuperated among the gargoyles. But he couldn’t rest yet, not until he was safe with Pinky.  

Snowball passed by the Beast’s hiding place, not realizing he was there at all. 

Now was his chance. 

The Beast crept out of the shadows, quietly stalking Snowball from behind, careful not to make a sound.

Snowball was too deeply enraged to notice a large, dark shadow engulfing him until it was too late. 

With a snarl, Snowball whirled around and tried to claw the Beast's arm, but the Beast sidestepped his attack. This only enraged Snowball further, and the Beast was unprepared as Snowball atop his back, completely out of control.

Snowball lost all coherency, making only furious animalistic sounds as he bit and clawed and scratched every part of the Beast he could reach.

The Beast's thick fur prevented many of Snowball's attacks from landing, though the few scratches and bites that broke through were irritating and painful. 

The Beast tried to fend him off, but he couldn't reach behind him, and Snowball refused to release his hold.

Backing up to the spire's wall, the Beast slammed Snowball against the stone. Pain flared along the Beast's spine, but he gritted his teeth and bore it. Once was enough to stun Snowball, stopping his assault. When he didn't completely let go, the Beast slammed Snowball against the spire again. 

Snowball fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, rubbing his head with a pained groan. 

He was at the Beast's mercy now. 

But Snowball didn't deserve any. 

The Beast seized Snowball's collar, lifting him into the air and dangling him over the edge. Snowball choked helplessly, the Beast's large hand squeezing his throat. 

There was nothing but air and total darkness under Snowball's feet. 

And finally, after years of trying without success, the Beast had truly bested Snowball. The proud prince, reduced to cowardice and succumbing to fear. He was nothing more than a stark raving mad hamster who'd taken on more than he could handle. 

The royal family would regret abandoning him. He wouldn't be an object of their derision anymore, dismissed time and time again because he didn't adhere to traditional ideas, that he thought and acted differently than what they wanted, that he deserved to be seen and respected and admired. 

Then a desperate, pleading gasp brought him back to reality. 

"Let me go! Please let me go!" Snowball choked out, his chest heaving rapidly as he struggled to breathe, clutching the Beast's wrist like a lifeline. 

Snowball was at the Beast's mercy now. So…why didn't it feel as good as he thought? 

"I'll do anything! I'll give you anything you want! Just don't hurt me!" Snowball pleaded, feebly kicking his feet as if that would save him. 

Maybe Snowball didn’t deserve any mercy, but there had been a time when the Beast was helpless and injured in the snow, unable to summon the strength to return to the castle. He’d resigned himself to dying where he laid, knowing that after all he’d done, nobody would have a reason to help him. 

Yet there had been a gentle touch on his injured arm, and a soft voice promising to heal him. 

Pinky had given him mercy when he hadn’t deserved it. 

And through Pinky’s forgiveness and friendship, the Beast learned that he could be so much more than his appearance. That he didn’t have to obsess over reclaiming the past, and he could look to the future instead. 

The Beast stepped back from the edge, lowering Snowball to the safety of the stone landing. Snowball was still wide-eyed with terror, not quite registering that his life was spared. 

A silver object flashed, partially obscured by Snowball’s cape and tucked into his belt. 

Pinky’s mirror. 

Miraculously, it had remained in Snowball’s belt this entire time. 

Snowball winced as the Beast reclaimed the mirror, staring at the Beast’s claws like he’d expected to see his own blood. 

But the Beast had no further interest in Snowball. Returning the mirror to its rightful owner was far more important. 

“Get out,” the Beast growled, making sure that Snowball got a close look at his fangs for a clearer message. 

The Beast released Snowball’s collar, and the prince whimpered as he collapsed on the ground, coughing pathetically. 

As the Beast secured the mirror to his waist in preparation for the climb up to the West Wing balcony, he heard a familiar, wonderful voice call out to him. 

“Beast!” 

The Beast turned, and on the balcony just above him, was a mouse with snowy fur and the brightest blue eyes that rivaled the sky itself. His fur was a mess, his clothing rumpled, but he was still the most beautiful sight the Beast had ever seen in his life. 

“Pinky,” he whispered in awe, unable to avert his eyes as he ascended the tower. How could he? 

The worst of the storm was finally over. The turmoil ceased at last, and all that remained were the raindrops falling to the earth. And though the cloud cover remained, there was a ray of sunshine extending his hand to him, promising neverending warmth and light. 

And the Beast took the offered hand without hesitation. Their hands fit perfectly together. 

“Hi, Beast,” Pinky whispered, a tiny smile on his face once the Beast perched on the other side of the railing, reunited at last. “I missed you.” 

“You came back…” the Beast said, unable to wipe the silly grin off his face. His hand came to rest on Pinky’s cheek, and Pinky leaned into his touch, his smile growing wider as he nuzzled the Beast’s palm. 

The Beast marveled at the soft fur brushing his palm, the curve of Pinky’s smile against his skin, the way Pinky looked at him with sheer joy. 

They were together now, that was all that mattered to the Beast. Everything would be…

…and a sharp, searing pain exploded through the Beast’s body, shattering all of his hopes and dreams of a future with Pinky. 

End AN: Snowball vs Beast!Brain had three main inspirations; obviously the Gaston vs Beast fight, then Ratigan’s feral breakdown in the climax of Great Mouse Detective, and finally Brain vs Snowball in the PatB episode Welcome to the Jungle.

It’s so cathartic to write Snowball as a coward and losing when he’s been nothing but a smug bastard who’s always been one step ahead this entire fic. He still puts up a fight, but Beast!Brain is much stronger than he is.

Whoops my hand slipped with that happy ending.

[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

Hey uhhh, thanks all y’all’s, for uhh, putting up with my virtual insanity. Really, it’s still perplexed me why so many people follow me, it’s obviously not for the stuff I say. I’m gonna start working on another version of my post regarding the refugee situation, to atone for engaging in this billionaire media bullshit, since my last one I had worked so hard on was eaten up. That’s something I think I’m more proud of than the un-proofread shit that goes from my brain straight to the micro stream of consciousness I have on here.

(Adding read more’s to more posts as to not take up your dash too much)

It’s honestly incredible that people still follow me when I know my bullshit ends op on their dash and they do see the things I say. Especially to you mutuals. I mean, you’re like the closest things to consistent friends I’ve had in recent years. This place has been a real pillar in holding up my mental health, one of the only pillars really, especially in the past year, which I mean you know, that sounds pretty bad but, I’ve honestly had a really nice time on here.

And again, thanks for staying around in spite of my insane ramblings I throw up here every now and then. I can only imagine the major annoyances I’ve caused you, so I appreciate the sticking by, even if most things that appear on here don’t interest you at all. I wish I could do more things on here that people would engage with. My favorite moments on here have got to be when I, even anonymously or just very very slightly, made someone’s day a little better, or left them more informed or seen, maybe just happy or interested and a little thought provoked, any good I could put into the world. It always feels good to make other people feel good, you know? I wish I could more of that for people. Doesn’t hurt either that being acknowledged and engaged with soothes my aching ego and releases the “See? Life is worth living!” Chemicals into my head. Buy I’m fine staying small, completely alright, maybe I don’t want the kind of pressure being a really big blog.

I think I just gotta stop lowballing myself and keeping my expectations of myself so low, and at the same time, not thinking I don’t deserve things. I probably keep a lot I need or want away from myself because I think I don’t deserve it. Well, until I finally do something useful, helpful, positive, funny, or fun, I’m just gonna be here, doing some useless mental health blogging. Look forward to that post about the refugee ship. It’s just going to be a kind of opinionated report about the stuff I’ve read and include some links to some articles. It’s not going to be anything groundbreaking, it’ll just take a while to come out because the last one I spent a long time on got eaten and that damaged my moral, still peeved about that. But I want that kind of conversation to be more talked, because it’s an important one, far more important the the case of the 5 dead billionaires in a submarine, and I want to make at least a little bit of change in the public consciousness.

Until next time. Ciao!

[carolmunson]

good cop, bad cop III: stella

“I can hardly stand it when he’s away for a night – When he’s away for a week, I nearly go wild. And when he comes back, I cry on his lap like a baby.” 

recommended reading: part one, part two: daddy lessons. 

the warnings for the fic as a whole are as follows: 18+ minors dni, fem reader, daddy kink, dom!steve, dom!eddie, sadist!eddie (also soft, he can’t help it), brat!reader, sadist!steve (not soft at all unfortch), bdsm aligning punishments and actions, humiliation, degradation, dom training, forced orgasm. female anatomy mention. p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), angst, face slapping (in like a bad way), severe name calling, some dubcon at the end of chapter two. ultimate warning is that part two is really intense. if you’re sensitive to semi non-con violence i would recommend not reading. 

authors note: 

welcome to the end, y’all! also, the way this fic is crushing on AO3, wow. but i also wanted to give a big hug to everyone who might have been effected badly by part two. i got some comments on AO3 of some people getting emotional over the story, not hate comments or anything, but just that it was really intense. 

i hope this soothes ya souls a little, we even put some comedy in there for funsies. (when i say we, i mean me). i found it a little difficult for me to write a character who doesn’t automatically just forgive steve, cause in my personal life, i probably would. but we made it! we did it! i hope you enjoy! 

lastly, a big thank you to @reborn-rollergirl who was the inspiration for this entire romp. 

Eddie waited until he heard Steve’s car pull out of the driveway to wake you. He let you fall asleep with your head on his lap for at least an hour, giving you a chance to settle and come back to yourself on your own. When you woke up, the pain really set in, your adrenaline of the moment fully faded. You groaned while looking up into Eddie’s face, his soft and caring expression immediately making you feel safe. 

“Let’s get you patched up, yeah?” he asked. 

“I don’t – I don’t want to go out there,” you confessed, terrified that Steve would have a second wind. 

“He’s not here, baby, he left. He went for a drive,” he said, “You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe. I’m here.” 

You gingerly got up from his lap, shimmying on your stomach until your feet touched the ground. The skin on your hips, thighs, and backside shrieked with spurts of stinging pain at any exertion from your lower body. Standing up was a slow process, inching upwards vertebrae by vertebrae. 

“Are you?” you retorted, anger flaring in your chest, “Because it didn’t feel like that while you just sat there and watched him fucking beat me.”  Eddie stood up and met you at the edge of the bed. He looked down at you, his eyes shining with guilt, and for a moment didn’t know what to say. 

“I deserve that,” he said, “But I’m here now. Please let me help you, let me know how I can make it better.” 

“Make it better?” you asked, dynamics had dropped, this was really you talking. 

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked a little defensively, “You didn’t tap out. You didn’t safe-word, I thought it was okay!” 

“I didn’t tap out?! Have you ever heard me tell him to stop like that?!” you shrilled incredulously, “You could have gotten up, gotten in between us. You could have punched him in the face, you could have done literally anything!”  Eddie was silent, and hung his head. Nodding with everything you threw at him, knowing you were right. 

“When was I supposed to have tapped out, Ed?” you were getting breathless, trying not to work yourself up to tears again, “And even if I said his safe-word, do you really think he would have stopped? You saw how he looked, he was fucking wild.”  Eddie shook head head no.  “You should have done something,” you said, “You should have known better.” 

“Can I hold you?” he asked, after a moment of silence. You nodded and he gently pulled you into him, the smell of his skin filled your nose as you did your best to relax into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve done something. I should have stood up for you,” he said, kissing the top of your head, “I wanted to. I was scared, I didn’t want – I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

“I know,” you said, tears pricking your eyes again, “I know. I’m sorry, too. I’m not mad at you, I’m just – you know.”

“I know,” he said, putting his hand against your face, leaning you further into his chest. 

“I thought it was just gonna be a fun night,” you said, your voice getting groggy again, “Like, ‘ha ha, yeah lets make her cum until she cries,’ like the normal shit you both do.” 

Eddie started rocking you back and forth in the dark of the bedroom, “So did I, I thought we were just gonna see who could make you cum the hardest.”

You nodded, letting him rock you in silence, trying to steady your breathing. 

“It obviously would’ve been me,” Eddie muttered. You sniffled and let out a muffled laugh, he really couldn’t help himself. You pulled back in his arms a little, starting to feel more sure of yourself, more aware of your surroundings. The feeling of Eddie’s heart beat against your chest had steadied your own. 

You felt sticky, remembering how Steve had left you after he finished. 

“There’s no way I can do a bath tonight,” you said, looking up at him, “But I need to take a shower–” 

“Okay, let me get that started for you,” Eddie said, starting to turn towards the door. 

“No, no,” you said, “I don’t want you to come in with me.” 

Eddie frowned but tried to hide his disappointment, “I understand.” 

“But I do want you to stay in the bathroom so we can talk,” you said, grinning a little, “Because I saw Vickie in Family Video the other night and I’ve been dying to tell you about it.” 

“I thought she moved to Indianapolis after high school?” he asked, very interested in the gossip. 

“She sure did,” you said knowingly, “But Robin sure didn’t.” 

“While I’m very excited for your tale-telling,” he started, pulling you back in close to him, “I need you to know how much I love you.”  

“I love you, too,” you said, “Like you said, we need to have a big talk about boundaries.” 

“For sure,” he nodded, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Eddie put his hand to your cheek and looked in your eyes, “And you know I love gossip as much as the next girl, but if you just want to gossip so you don’t have to talk about how you’re feeling then you need to tell me that.” 

“Stop knowing me and what I’m about, Munson,” you muttered sarcastically, “I will talk about my feelings when I’m ready to talk about them.” 

He rolled his eyes as you guided him by the hand to the bathroom. He gave you a once over, visibly upset at the state of your lower body – but it was definitely in the line of something Dr. Munson could get taken care of. He helped you take off the catholic school skirt that was now stained with fluids and blood. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asked. You surveyed the fabric in his hands, the night flashed in your mind. 

“Ugh, burn it,” you said, stepping into the shower. 

“Aw, okay,” Eddie glumly answered, tossing it into the corner of the room. He sat on the toilet seat, listening to you hiss and whimper at the feeling of the water hitting your wounds. 

“Are you sure you don’t ne–” 

“So, I saw Vickie at Family Video and she –” 

“Babe,” Eddie interrupted, “Come on.” 

You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain, “Let me level with you, Munson. I’m going on record here to officially add gossiping in the bathroom with you as part of my explicit aftercare routine. Now you are literally obligated to talk shit about Vickie at Family Video with me.”

“I don’t think that, that’s really helpful or constructive after something like this. You need to heal–” 

“Talking shit about Vickie is incredibly healing for me,” you sassed, “I’m feeling more healed already.”

Eddie rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, “You’re so impossible.”

This was a few nights ago. 

By now you had healed up a bit, you could sit down semi comfortably on soft surfaces. The bruises on your face from where Steve grabbed you were fading. Eddie expertly tricked you into talking through your feelings over dinner last night, under the guise of asking for advice about a friend and his girl who were in a fight. 

All that was missing was Steve. He had stayed with his parents over the weekend, calling the morning after the incident to let Eddie know where he was. It was a long phone call that you only heard Eddie’s side of: a lot of shushing and cooing, a lot of firm words, a lot of ‘I know’s.  

“He wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry,” Eddie said when he hung up, “He’s gonna say it in person, of course, but he wanted me to let you know that he knows what he did and he’s sorry.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you bitterly responded.  

Around mid-morning, you and Eddie were in the living room watching whatever trashy talk show was on TV. Both huddled up drinking coffee, his black, yours a dark caramel color with sugar. It had been a quiet, but blissful couple of days – Eddie making you meals, taking you out on dates, renting movies, stealing an orgasm or two out of you over the kitchen counter. 

You heard the car pull in and you tensed, hearing the car door open and shut – you could count the steps it took to get from the driveway to the front door, his keys jingling in time with his walk.  “It’s okay,” Eddie said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “You’re okay.” He got up and got to the door, opening it before Steven put his keys in. 

Eddie leaned on the doorframe, blocking your view of him, “Hey, Harrington.” 

“Can I see my girl?” Steve asked, stepping to the side of him to get through the door. Eddie side stepped to get in front of him. 

“Woah, woah, slow down there,” Eddie said, putting a hand on his chest to keep him in the door frame. You slinked over to the stair case, across from the door, going up a few steps so you could see Steve over Eddie’s head. You leaned your good hip on the bannister with your arms crossed. 

“It’s okay, Ed,” you said, emotionless. You stared down the slope of your nose at him, a pointed look you’d picked up from him over the years. 

Steve looked at you on the stairs, his face contorted with longing. He gave you a once over, seeing you in sweatpants and his old, battered, Hawkins Phys Ed t-shirt. Your little white socks covering your feet. 

“Hi,” he said weakly, stumbling into the house, “Hi, baby.” 

Eddie closed the door behind him, hawk-eyed at Steve while the boy slipped his shoes off and hung his coat on the coat rack. 

“Hi, Harrington,” you replied. 

“Can–can we talk?” he asked, standing at the base of the steps. 

“Hm,” you replied, keeping a steely gaze on him.  “Please?” he begged, “I wanted to–” 

“We can talk,” you interrupted. You nodded your head over to the living room at Eddie who took the hint. 

“You sure you want to be alone with him?” he asked. The question made Steve’s heart drop, his chest feeling tight at the idea that you might be scared of him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, putting your eyes back on Steve, “Come on.” 

You stalk slowly up the stairs while he followed behind. You got in the bedroom and stood in the mirror, inspecting yourself while he entered, shutting the door behind him. He kept it unlocked. 

You looked over at him, his shoulders curved in, looking less confident than he had in months. 

“You wanna see what you did?” you asked, your voice covered in malice. 

He step closer to you with a hand outstretched to touch your waist. You flinched at his movement. 

“No baby, please,” a tear fell from his eye, “Please don’t be scared of me.” 

“How can I not be?” you asked, the hurt in your chest matching his. You delicately took down down your sweatpants and underwear, raising up the fabric of his t-shirt to your waist. You turned around. 

“Look at what you did to me, Steve.” 

Steve let out a small gasp while he looked the aftermath of his anger, getting on his knees to inspect it. Even a few days later, it looked just absolutely wretched. Where there wasn’t crudely wrapped gauze on your thighs (thanks, Eddie), there was dark purple and reddened bruising, raised welts, and clear imprints of the studs on Eddie’s belt still finding their way out of your skin. He put his hands on your hips, heart absolutely aching, more tears spilling out of him. He bit his lip to keep from crying harder, but it was hard. This wasn’t like him, he’d never hurt you like this, he never wanted to hurt you like this. 

“Oh, baby I…I’m so–” 

You turned around and looked down at him, tears falling from your eyes too, “The parts where you broke skin, Steve? They bled for two days. Two days.” 

“What happened?” you asked, desperate for answers. 

“I got st-stuck,” he said, still on his knees looking up at you. He rested his hands on the backs of your calves, “I just, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t c-control it.”  “That’s your whole job, Steven!” you scolded, “It’s your job to stay in control.” 

“I know, I know,” he choked out, he wrapped his arms around the backs of your knees, his chest against the tops of your thighs, “I’m sorry, and I know that’s not enough but I need you to know how sorry I am.” 

“I h-had to stay at my folks cause I was – I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” he cried out, “I wouldn’t wanna see me either.” 

You ran a hand through his hair, his pretty brown eyes shining up at you. His lips were tinted red from all the emotion in his face. Your gaze narrowed again like it did on the stairs, “You did all that and just left. You left me there for Eddie to fix. You know he’s so gentle and he just doesn’t know h–,” you stumbled, your lip wobbling, breaking down, “You’re the only one who can make me feel better after you hurt me. I wanted you and you left me.” 

He took your hand from out of his hair and kissed the pads of your fingers, grabbing the smallest part of your waist, “Baby, I’ll never leave you again, I promise.” 

“I’ll never leave you again,” he repeated breathily, standing up and pulling you close to him. He put a hand to your cheek, his thumb sliding over a fading bruise from where he held you in place to tell Eddie who you belonged to. Steve’s heart sunk even lower, his eyes shutting tight, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“I never leave marks like that on you,” he said, his breaths shuddering with each rise of his chest, “I’m always so careful not t-not to be so rough.” 

“I love you so much, I never want you to think that I,” he gritted his teeth, trying to stop crying, “That I like hurting you. I don’t want you to think that this was what I wanted to do.” 

“I know it’s not,” you cried back, “But you did.” 

He kissed you, wet and apologetic, one hand on your cheek the other on the side of your neck. His tongue brushed against your mouth and you let him deepen the kiss, you hands glided through his hair and down to his shoulders, you clawed at him desperately. He lifted you at the waist, not breaking the kiss as he delicately laid you back on the mattress. Your pooled up pants on your feet slid off in the process. 

“Is this okay? Does this hurt?” he asked over you, your noses touching. Arousal revved in your belly. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, kissing him back fervently. He was cautious crawling over you, his fingertips sliding from your neck, over your breast, and down your sternum before reaching under your thin t-shirt. You let out a soft, audible breath as his warm fingers played over your waist. 

“This is my favorite on you,” he smiled between kisses, “My little gym girl.” 

You pulled broke the kiss, blushing, “I kept wearing it in case–” 

You covered your face, “Ugh, it’s so lame.”  “No, no, tell me,” he smiled, “In case what?” 

Your hands left your face and cupped his, “I wanted to have it on when you came home, so I just kept wearing it. I made Eddie wash it like, every night.” You giggled at how ridiculous you sounded.

“Oh no,” Steve giggled with you, “He hates laundry.” 

“It’s just cause he’s bad at it,” you said, caressing him. 

“He’s awful at it,” Steve agreed, leaning in to kiss you again. He pushed your shirt up, his lips capturing yours one last time before leaving feathery kisses and licks on your neck. He kissed your collar bone, and further down, looking up at you after each one.  “I’m sorry,” he said, after leaving a wet kiss on the end of your ribcage. 

Further down, “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” at your hip, you gasped, your thighs squeezing.

“Please, let me make it up to you,” he said, kneeling again at the end of the bed, your legs bent over the edge. 

You sat up and rested back on your elbows, looking down at him with a wicked grin, “Do you deserve it?” 

“No, Miss,” he replied obediently, “But I’d love to make you feel better, if you’ll let me.” 

Lust poured down your chest, the way he spoke reminding you of a night last year where he let you be his domme. A night he goes back to often when he jacks off in the shower. 

Your legs parted a little and he helped you with the rest, letting his lips rest on a more healed looking bruise on the back of your thigh. His thumb ran up your closed lips, getting so slick that a soft suction-y pop sounded when he parted them with his fingertips. 

When Steve took his time, he was divine at eating pussy. You wouldn’t even want to lower it to eating pussy, he worshipped pussy. You looked down at him as his tongue slid over your hood, teasing before pulling the skin back to get to his prize. 

“O-ooh my God,” you moaned out, “Oh, that feels so good, baby.” 

Eddie liked to play with his food, where Steve was precise, sucking and licking where he knew you’d react the hardest next – like playing with that light up hand held Simon game, the next point of action glowing for him to follow suit. He moved his head with each dip and roll of his tongue, switching from looking up at you to looking where to go next. 

“Fuck, I love how you taste,” he muttered, “You taste so fuckin’ good.” 

The soft roughness in his voice when he got excited made you shiver, your thighs twitching. You felt him start to ease a finger into you. 

“Steve, no,” you whined. He stopped immediately, looking up at you with worried eyes. 

“Oh no, princess, did I hurt you?” he asked. 

“No, I just,” you blushed, “I want more than your fingers.” 

He let out a soft ‘huh,’ and smiled, his tongue running along the back of his teeth. He stood up, unfastening his belt, but then stopping to look at you. 

“Would you–” he hesitated, “Will you close your eyes for me, while I take all this off? I don’t want you to see me with a belt in my hands right now.” 

You nodded, your heart swelling at his consideration of your feelings. Not that it would have crossed your mind, but knowing he cared made you swoon. You opened your eyes again at the feeling of him crawling over you.  “Tell me you want this,” he said before leaning in to give you a slow, deep kiss. 

“I want this,” you said, “I want to do this with you.” 

He eased into you, slippery against your slickness, a complete change from the last time he was inside you.  “Fuck,” he whispered, his head dropping at the feeling of you around him. Your legs sprung up to give him more leverage into you, your relaxed muscles giving way to stretch your skin easily over your legs. Pleasure overrode your pain ten fold. Steve’s cock was made for you. 

He held himself up on one forearm, the other on your cheek, looking up to keep eye contact with you. His strokes were slow and deliberate, hitting your g-spot with ease each time. It felt sweet and salacious. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, “I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.” 

You smiled, kissing him, “No, you’re always callin’ me names.” 

“I’m not gonna call you names for a long time,” he said, “Not unless you ask.” 

Your head lolled back with a moan as his hips shifted, putting himself deeper inside you, “God, that’s good. Just like that.” 

He couldn’t help but smirk at hearing your moans, he quickened his paced just slightly, hearing the squelch of your soaked pussy accommodating his thrusts. 

“Jeeesus,” he grunted back, breaths getting ragged, “God, you’re so perfect.” 

He slowed for a moment, looking down at you, “Can we do it more like this?” 

You cocked your head, “Like what?” 

“Can it just be nice, can we do it like this more often?” 

“Oh baby, of course,” you replied, “Yeah, we can do it like this.” 

“Do you like it?” he asked, “Is it good for you? I want it to be good for you.” 

You slowly rolled your hips against him, “Your cock is always good for me.”  You flashed him that look that made him melt, mischievous but innocent. He could read you like a book, knowing what he could say next. 

“Ooh, did you miss your Daddy?” he asked, his pace quickening again. A symphony of breathy moans flew from your throat.

“Mmm,” you whined, “I missed you so much, Daddy.” 

“But,” you started, your voice back to normal, he slowed down again, “You have a long way to go, until everything’s okay.”  “I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your cheek, “I’ll do everything I can.” 

It definitely was a shorter romp than you were used to, but Steve hadn’t made love to you in a while. (At least that was his excuse: ‘It’s just different baby, there’s something about it. You know there’s fucking and then there’s making love and when I’m so in it – I – ugh – please tell me you finished. I’m so embarrassed.’) Of course you finished, you always did. 

After a few minutes of kissing and cuddling, and another long string of apologies from Steve, you both got dressed. You slipped out of the bedroom door together, pulled into another deep kiss at the stair landing. Eddie was at the bottom of the stairs, his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched over, a fake angry look on his face, “So you just fucked without me, huh?” 

You and Steve looked at each other and back at Eddie, “Uhh…I…ye…we uh..” 

Eddie straightened up and clasped his hands together, “You know, I do so much for this family,” his voice amping up the dramatics, “And I can’t even get like, an ‘Oh Eddie, come up here so I can give you a thank you blow job, you really earned it! It’s like I’m not even here!” 

“No, no, poor thing,” you cooed, hurrying down the stairs into his arms, “No, you definitely deserve a ‘thank you’ blow job!” 

“I didn’t mean from you,” he said, closing one arm around you, locking eyes with Steve, “You gave plenty of those while King Steve went to go find himself.” 

Steve smirked back at him while he sauntered down the stairs, quickly encircled by Eddie’s free arm. 

“We can have our play time later. It’ll be allll about Eddie,” Steve said to him, you heard them kiss above your head. 

“Oh yeah, so different from any other day,” your sarcasm was biting. Eddie let go and the three of you headed into the living room, the TV still on some trashy talk show. 

“So, Stevie,” Eddie started, “I saw Vickie at Family Video a couple days ago–”  Steve gasped, a shocked smile spreading across his open mouth, “You didn’t! Was Robin working? She didn’t even tell me about this.” 

“Are you joking?!” you interjected, “This is not his story! I saw Vickie at Family Video. C’mon Ed, my favorite part is his shocked reaction, you stole my thunder!” 

“You know I tell stories better, sweet thing,” he said with a shrug, falling back into the arm chair next to the couch, “It’s why I’m still a Dungeon Master after all these years.” 

“You’re still a Dungeon Master because you’re a nerd, give me a break,” you said, easing yourself on to the couch. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, standing in front of the TV, waving his hands at both of you, “Both of you shut up. Someone, please God, tell me about Vickie at Family Video.”

[frodo-with-glasses]

Do you just not like gay people? I'd rather you just say the quiet part out loud so I can block you

With all due respect, Anon, I fail to see what this has to do with Lord of the Rings. 

Oh, but you’ll probably want a serious answer, tho. Very well. I mean, I’d rather talk about any number of more interesting things than sex—like walnuts, or toenail clippings, or watching paint dry, or perhaps the consistency of squirrel droppings—but in the interest of making my own stance clear, and answering the questions that I’m sure have hovered unasked in the minds of many of my followers, I will provide the most kind and thorough answer that I can. 

But I’m still putting it under a read-more, because, as aforementioned, it has nothing to do with Lord of the Rings. 

The short answer is no. No, I don’t dislike gay people. I’m sure most of my follower count identifies as gay, or somewhere along that spectrum, and y’all have been lovely ever since I began this blog. To be fair, I know more than half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve, but so long as you’re nice to me and leave fun interactions on my artwork, I like you plenty. If that’s satisfactory to you, good!

Because the long answer is more complicated. 

Hate the Sin, Love the Sinner

The first thing we must do is define the difference between “liking someone” and “approving of what they do”. If you’ve been anywhere near most Christian circles—or just listened to Hamilton—you’ve probably heard the phrase “hate the sin, love the sinner”. That phrase applies here. I have religious reasons for believing that the lifestyle of homosexuality is wrong, but I don’t harbor ill will towards the people who practice it. There’s a difference between disliking a person and disapproving of their actions. 

I don’t approve of smoking. I think it hurts people. That doesn’t mean I hate people who smoke. On the contrary, I care about them, and I would rather they don’t get lung cancer and breathing problems later in life, so I would urge them to quit smoking. 

I don’t approve of gambling. I think it hurts people. That doesn’t mean I hate people who gamble. On the contrary, I care about them, and I would rather not see them form an addiction that squanders away all their money to an uncaring corporation, leaving them poor and unhappy—or just as bad, winning the jackpot, and then being rich and unhappy—so I would urge them to quit gambling. 

I don’t approve of any and all forms of self-harm. It hurts my heart. I watched my best friend go through a long period of depression and self-harm, and it utterly broke me, that someone I loved would have to cause themselves external pain in order to get a reprieve from the pain they felt inside. I didn’t hate my friend. No, no, no, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I loved my friend more than my own life, ached for them, and wished more than anything they’d stop this thing that was hurting them, because I couldn’t stand watching a sickness slowly torture someone that I dearly, dearly loved (and still do). 

In the same way, I believe in a loving God who made us, knows us inside and out and front and back, loves us deeply, and wants what’s best for us. He once said, “The thief comes to steal and kill and destroy, but I have come that they may have life, and life abundantly”. I believe that, in His wisdom and kindness, He left us a Book of instructions on how to find that life. He laid out the road to that destination—the straight and narrow path—and He said, “Just follow Me, and I’ll get you there. I’ve put up guard rails along the way where there are pits by the side of the road.”

And I said, “What if I fall in?”

And He said, “Just turn around and take My hand. I’ll pull you out.”

If you’d known someone all your life, and they’d always proven themselves worthy of your trust, you’d believe them when they said “this is the right way that will lead you to safety, and that is the wrong way that will lead you into danger”. So it is here. He outlined, very clearly, in His Book, what is the sexual ethic for which He designed us. Contrary to popular belief, there’s actually a lot of freedom within that ethic; He basically said, “Lady, here’s your man, and mister, here’s your lady. Now you promise to be good and loyal to each other and take care of one another forever? Yes? Great, the rest is yours, have fun, kids.” The Bible actually has very little to say about sex as long as it’s in the right context. But anything outside of that context—including homosexuality, beastiality, incest, fornication, adultery, lust for someone other than your partner, etc.—is a pit by the side of the road, a bug and not a feature. 

So you see that I have religious reasons to disapprove of homosexuality. I have been told—by Someone I trust more than my own judgment—that it is outside His planned parameters for the world. But this does not mean I automatically dislike those who do not share my faith and convictions. I can believe they’re in the wrong without disliking them.

To put it simply, “I don’t like what you’re doing” DOES NOT EQUAL “I don’t like you”. I’d urge you to keep that in mind; it’s a good life lesson in general. 

So now that we’ve established that baseline, let’s look at how it applies to this blog. 

The Rep Sheet of Frodo-With-Glasses

Now, of course I’m a biased party, by nature of being the defendant in this trial (and my own lawyer LOL), but I think you’ll find that a fair and honest analysis of everything on this blog will reveal that I never even once expressed disdain for gay people. 

I’ve made it very clear where I stand on shipping through disclaimers on my art. I don’t ship Frodo and Sam, or Legolas and Gimli, etc. But to jump from that to “you must not like gay people” is like saying that because I don’t ship Romanogers in the MCU that I must hate Russians. 

I have repeatedly expressed that I see my own friendships reflected in the friendships in LotR. For that reason, they’re very important to me, and I feel no need to interpret them as anything else. To jump from that to “you must not like gay people” is like saying that because I am perfectly content with plain vanilla ice cream, I must have a personal vendetta against chocolate fudge. 

I have posted a disclaimer setting expectations for a passage I knew could be interpreted very differently. I expressed my own understanding of the nudity involved, and asked that my followers please have the decency to respect my interpretation of the story, with a few tongue-in-cheek jokes to lighten the mood. To jump from that to “you must not like gay people” is like your high school English Literature teacher giving an F on your perfectly formatted and well-argued paper just because your interpretation of the blue window curtains doesn’t match the one in the textbook. 

I have engaged in polite discussion with an anon who complimented my art. When the discussion came to “immoral relationships” between the characters, my response was to celebrate friendship. All I have ever done on this blog was celebrate friendship. I have never insulted gay people, I have never called them slurs or hateful names, I have never even confronted anyone who tags my art as ship art against my wishes. All I have ever done was try to be civil and polite and celebrate friendship.  

Have you ever considered, Anon, that I have been silent for a reason? That “the quiet part” has stayed quiet on purpose? That, perhaps, I did not come here to police my following and force my views upon them, but simply to celebrate a book that I love, and invite people of all stripes to come and celebrate it with me, if they so wish?

Have you considered that, if I disliked gay people, I could block every single one of my followers who express such views on their profiles? I didn’t get to over 800 followers on tumblr, of all websites, by policing those who are allowed to interact with my blog. I didn’t cultivate the community I did by shutting down people I disagree with. 

I am here to entertain myself. I have always been here to entertain myself. I was doing it before there were 800 of you, and I will be doing it long after this blog is gone. Whether or not you would like to join in with me is entirely your prerogative. 

You wanna see how much I hate gay people? You wanna see how far the vitriol goes? Watch this! Sir Ian McKellen is a fantastic actor and seems like a splendid person in real life. No one else could possibly be Gandalf the way he is. To see his face on the screen when I watch Peter Jackson’s trilogy makes me feel warm and fuzzy and happy inside, because I feel like I’m looking into the kindly eyes of an old friend. I enthuse over it every time Phil Dragash manages to perfectly replicate McKellen’s iconic cadence in his audiobook, because it’s like hearing the Gandalf I grew up with speaking the real words on the page. Sir Ian McKellen’s contribution to the fandom, and to the community surrounding Lord of the Rings, is invaluable and irreplaceable. Middle Earth would be a lesser thing without him in it. 

This is now a thing that is on my blog: enthusiastically singing the praises of the work of a gay man. His lifestyle choices, though I don’t agree with them, are separate from the mark he’s left on this fandom, and everything I could have to say about the latter category is positive. 

So, now. Would you like to ask me that question again?

The Dismount

Here’s the TL;DR, in case I rambled on too long:

I do not, and will never, approve of the act of homosexuality. I have religious reasons for doing so; much the same, actually, as I believe Tolkien himself held. 

I harbor no ill will towards gay people. No matter what you believe on this topic, you are welcome to continue interacting with this blog if you so wish. All I ask is what I ask of everyone who passes through here: Be kind and polite. 

Your response is your prerogative. I have expressed what I believe is right, and I will not budge or apologize for it, but I’m not demanding that you agree with me. Heck, I can’t tell you to do anything, and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I’m not your mom. I’m not God. You don’t have to answer to me any more than I have to answer to you. How you choose to respond is your choice. 

If that means you have to leave, that’s fine. I wish you all the best, and I hope you find what you’re looking for. 

If you ever want to come back, I’ll still be here, talking about Lord of the Rings. 

[faithiegirl01]

Faithie’s Fic idea Corner:

Ok… hear me out here guys…

Y’all know those fan fics where the reader comes in and says:

“Hey… I’m late…”

Then the guy looks at here like: 🤔 while saying:

“Your late for wh- oh!!!! 😲”

Well I need a Steve Harrington or Pedro Pascal (or one of his many characters) one like that 😂.

And here’s reasons why I think these people or characters would work with this prompt or whatever you wanna call it:

I could told see this being Steve’s face:

I can also see him being absolutely dense about it 😂

Like bro this would be the conversation probably:

“Steve, babe… I’m late,” 😨

“Late for what?” 🫤

🙄🤷🏼‍♀️ “Steve come on! I’m late babe…”

“And again I say… late for what?!”

🤦🏼‍♀️ “honey… please you can’t be this dense… I am L.A.T.E late,”

“Ok you’ve been around Dustin way too…. OH!!! OH!!! You mean your Late!” 😳

😂 I could totally see it and now I need this fic so so badly. Someone please please please make it for me. I’d do it myself, but as of right now I have way to many WIP and I probably won’t get to it for a while, but I want it sooner then like six months out ya know?

And if y’all do it for one of P’s characters I’d suggest like maybe 🤔:

Marcus P:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @conveniently-available

Marcus would definitely be an amazing candidate for it, because he’s already been though one divorce and a bad break up with Teresa… Could y’all just imagine if with his new significant other he’s a little more held off and scared then he was with Teresa, but then the reader tells him and he just would be like 😳. Ya know what I mean.

Maybe Jack… that’s a big maybe though:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @interstellarflare

This one’s a little harder to see happening, because I believe he’d know even before his significant other does. Jack just seems like he’d be the kinda lover that pays that close of attention to his significant other. Like he’s seems super loving and doting and definitely not dense at all. Like just super smart. It’s hard to explain what I mean.

Definitely would work with Javi G:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @pedropascalsx

Javi G would definitely be confused with this because he’s literally Pedro showing his golden retriever side and you can’t change my mind about it. Not to mention Javi isn’t ya know native to the English language so maybe he wouldn’t even really fully know what it means. EVERYONE NEEDS A JAVI G!!! He’s the definition of golden retriever.

Max Philips would 100% be a great one 😂

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @thewaythisis

Because he would totally be confused for a moment until boom it clicks in his brain then he’d be all shocked that it could even happen 😂 that would just all around be a good fic to read. I could see max getting mad cause the reader won’t tell him what exactly she’s late for then when it does click his eyes would widen and he be like “oh… oh sweets… you mean…” and the read would just nod…

Din could possibly work too:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @b-n-a-o

I could see Din not really understanding at first because he’s not really fully in tune with when that time of month comes. I could see Din being confused with it, but also only wanting to take his significant others pain away even though he doesn’t understand it he’s still the perfect partner in wanting to only take care of her.

Pero could 1000% work:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @a7estrellas

I could see that like in his time line the guys don’t know much about that time so when the reader were to tell him they’re late he’d just be confused. It definitely wouldn’t mean he’s a bad partner, it just means he doesn’t know much about the subject because in that time men normally left women to deal with it alone… BUT Pero would most definitely be one of those guys that tries his best to learn how to take care of the reader during that time because he’d be a loving partner because he feels he doesn’t deserve the love. Ya know what I mean? So all in all he’s be a little confused, but absolutely over the moon when he does figure it out.

Kyle Hartley would be a cute one for sure:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @ithinkwehitametaphor

I feel like for Kyle he’d understand, but it wouldn’t click right away with him. I feel like the reader would have to try explaining just a bit further to him then boom it would click. Kyle just is smart, heck he’d probably be like whiskey in some fashion and kinda pick up on it before the reader, but not realize that’s what the situation is until she says it out loud. He’d probably be like “I knew something was off!”

And last but not least our beautiful beloved Frankie “catfish” Morales would 100% not catch on at first:

Again NOT my gif, all credit to: @uuuhshiny

Frankie would probably be at first very concerned and confused. He’d be like “babe! I don’t get it what are you late for. If you’re late why aren’t you getting ready?” The reader would sigh and roll her eyes before saying it again, but again he doesn’t get it. Soon though after the third or fourth time it’d click for him. Again Frankie is just a golden retriever kind of character to me and he’s just seems like he’d be super lost over it. I don’t know why, but it just fits sweet Frankie.

Ok maybe if nobody writes these by the time I’m done with all my WIP for my other page, I’ll write these, but if anyone wants to take a swing at it. Go right ahead!

[weatheredleatherhat]

Have a Karl request in mind. Reader’s Karl’s ex and first love, who returns to the village yesrs after leaving. They broke up cause Karl was too busy with work to give the reader the love they needed, so the reader left. Karl’s still hung up on the reader, even years after the breakup and wants to fix things but is scared of being rejected. Now, Karl’s his usual self until he’s told his ex is back in town, getting nervous and quiet. He fixes himself up in case he were to bump into the Reader at any point. He practices his apologies in the empty church, and it gets the Lords tired of his moping. They make a plan to have the unsuspecting reader to go to the church while Karl’s alone, but Karl stops talking after hearing the reader’s voice. He relives all their moments in the relationship, and ends up having a breakdown before he can even apologize. They talk, being fully honest with each other and they give things a second try.

((Hey anon! This one is so sweet and pure aaaa <3 So I changed it a little, since in my head, ain’t nobody leaving that damn village, so instead they went to the most opposite side of the border to work there, as well as the Lords probably not giving too much of a shit about Heis to want him happy. Gives it that little extra angst because so close, yet so far while being utterly alone with it, y’know? Anyway, first bit of writing for a little while; hope it’s okay for you!! And thank you for being so damn patient! Y’all deserve a medal lmao <3))

Three winters since his Buttercup left a note on his pillow, declaring that they were leaving him. From what little he read, they’d cited his constant work and the neglect from his end to the relationship to be a deciding factor. Though he’d only read it once, he could still see the last sentence so clearly.

I’m sorry, but I have to do this. Please don’t come looking for me.

Of course, he’d ignored it, and had found them working at Otto’s saw mill on the opposite side of the village. At first, he was going to confront them. Beg for forgiveness, plead for their return. Fuck, he’d carry them back kicking and screaming if it came to it. But seeing how broken they looked as they carried lumber to the piles just outside, knowing that he’d caused that shattered look in their eyes… He couldn’t face them. For all his bravado and arrogance, underneath it all he felt like a lost little boy again, desperate for love and approval that he knew he’d probably never get. He’d fucked up, and no matter how much he tried to fix it, it’d never be the same again. Like a shattered mirror glued back together; cracks still visible and reflecting his failures back at him.

And so he’d left them to their new life. With no idea if he’d ever see them again.

He’d remembered the day he last saw them three winters ago like it was yesterday. It was all that he could think about, since the anniversary of it was only a few years ago. Normally, he would be in his living quarters back at the factory, chain smoking cigars and drinking himself into the closest to a stupor that he could get. But no, Miranda just had to have another fucking meeting about some bullshit he didn’t even care about.

“Honestly, I don’t see what the issue is.” Alcina’s voice was normally grating, but right now it was nigh on insufferable. It took biting down hard on the end of his cigar to keep from telling her to stick her opinions right up her fat ass. As he looked over towards her seat, he could see the sneer that pulled her lip upwards, eyes narrowed, directed right towards him. A look of pure frustration, and it made him a little smug to know he’d caused it.

“What issue?” he drawled, stoking the flames of her ire even further once he admitted that he wasn’t even paying attention to her.

“About increasing the security around the perimeter of your factory, you damned idiot!” she fired back, now sitting forward in her seat and pointing the lit end of her cigarette holder at him. “If you remember correctly, it was about this time a few years ago your little pet escaped, was it not?”

Flames of rage ignited in his chest at the mention of his lost love. Alcina had found out one way or another, probably from one of her little snitching maids. But ever since she had caught wind of it, occasionally when she needed the upper hand in an argument, the fact that he’d been dumped would be thrown back in his face. At first, he was petrified that Miranda would ask questions. But being the favourite son had it’s perks, though he was loathed to admit it. Truth was, he could have a fucking harem of villagers in his factory and she wouldn’t give much of a shit, as long as research still got done. One villager wasn’t much of a concern to her. But still, he worried for their safety. Yet another reason why he hadn’t talked to them for so long. As long as he acted like it was a fling, that joke of a ‘mother’ would probably keep her beaked nose out of his affairs.

“Watch your fucking tongue,” he snarled in a low tone, teeth exposed behind thin lips as the metalwork in the abandoned church began to vibrate. “Best not speak about affairs you don’t know about, dear sister. Before your own dirty laundry gets aired.”

He’d spoken the word ‘sister’ with as much derision as he could muster. Of course he knew about her dirty little secrets. He’d had her castle bugged years ago to get it. But he wanted to keep the cards he had close for now. Just the threat was usually enough to get her off his ass. And for now, it seemed to work. Though she tried to hide it, a quick flash of anxiety shot through her features, though she covered it up well. Yeah, worked like a charm.

Alcina tried to speak, though it was Miranda who cut her off.

“Enough, my children,” came her voice from his right, silencing Alcina’s tongue before she could utter a single syllable. “Heisenberg, I want you to check your fences as soon as you can. I don’t want to hear of an escape. Is that understood?”

Though she had a calmness to her voice, almost a motherly tone when she spoke to him, he could see right through it. And the fact that he had to stomach her bullshit and pretend to drink the Kool-Aid still made his stomach turn. Tipping his hat towards her, he bowed his head in a sign of respect that he fought to feign.

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” he answered, keeping his voice neutral. God, how he hated her.

“Then it’s settled. Unless there is no other business, I call this meeting adjourned.”

With a flurry of black feathers, her figure disappeared, leaving nothing in her wake but the wails of Moreau as he mourned the loss of his Mother for another month. Crushing the remnant of his cigar under his heel, he lit another one as he waited for his false siblings and lycans alike to disappear, leaving him alone in the silence and the closest to serenity he could find in his surroundings of the church. The way that the snowfalls came in through the hole in the roof, leaving a small mound by the steps of the altar. How quiet it was, when usually he was constantly surrounded by the grindings of machinery. It was the only place that he could truly let himself think about things other than work and the charade of pretending to be the perfect, submissive son.

Where he could think of his Buttercup.

What would he even say to them? It had been too long to try and talk to them, surely. Maybe they thought that he just didn’t care. By God, he wish he didn’t care. How much heartbreak he could save, if it was only a one night stand. Perhaps then, he could stop his hand trying to feel for them on their side of the bed when he was half asleep. Perhaps then, he could finally throw away their things that were still in the same place as the day they left, just in case they’d come back and need them. Perhaps then, he would stop feeling the urge to break down whenever he thought of their smile, and how it would take over their whole face in a glow whenever they were happy.

What would he even say?

“I’m so sorry, Buttercup.” He didn’t realise he’d said it aloud at first. It shocked him into silence for a few moments. But he realised that there was a sort of power, releasing all he held in. Maybe the liquor from his flask was getting to him, but he didn’t care. He needed more release. He needed to say the words.

“I should have come looking for you again.”

There it was. More feelings of a slight content, that he ached to have more of. A slight knocking sound pulled him straight out of the trance-like state he was in, making him focus on whatever it was. It sounded like something metallic being nudged by a foot, once he thought for a second about it, and feeling out with his powers yielded the faint electrical pulse of heartbeat, growing faster and faster as he stood up to look towards the intrusion. Though he couldn’t control humans, he could certainly sense them. And he could control his hammer, which he called into his grasp and held above his head, ready to smite whoever dared come into this church.

“I can hear you,” he called out, making sure to drip venom in his voice as he said it. “Show yourself.”

He could only make out a figure in the shadows, at first. Smaller than him, and quivering. The form took a few tentative steps into the light, causing all thoughts he had to come to a jarring halt once he saw the eyes that were all too familiar come into view.

The eyes that he dreamed about. The eyes he yearned for, now brimming with tears and so full of hurt.

He heard his name being called. Not his surname, like was so used to hearing. But his first name. Karl. The name that was only ever uttered by one person alive, and the person that his heart ached to hear speak again. Hammer dropped to the floor, he took in the sight of his Buttercup, now they were clear in the candlelight. Their clothes were more tattered than he had previously seen, probably thanks to hard work at the mill. They were looking a little more gaunt and pallid than the last time he’d seen them; the same complexion as other villagers. Nothing a few good meals and some love and care couldn’t fix.

The next sound that rang in his ears was the loud crash of his hammer as it dropped from his grasp, smashing the floor upon impact. He tried to speak, to say how sorry he was, but so many memories flashed before his eyes, rendering him unable to say the words. When he would pick them up and spin them around when they were least expecting him to, causing them to erupt into giggles that was like a balm to his broken heart. Slow dancing with them in the kitchen as they waited for dinner to cook, him quietly crooning the words into their ear. The little blush that would spread across their nose and cheeks in the cold weather on their walks, holding hands so he could catch them when they inevitably slipped on the eyes. Inconsequential fragments of time that culminated into a storybook of adoration and hope for the future.

Fragments of time that finally burst the dam of indifference that he’d so strongly built around his heart to keep in the strong emotions of regret and grief.

His Buttercup rushed towards him, throwing their arms around his neck and holding on tight as he felt their thumb brush against the nap of his neck; a soothing motion that God, he’d missed so much. His arms coiled around them, holding them in a crushing embrace due to the fear that none of this was actually real. That they’d disappear in a cloud of black smoke. But no, they still smelled just like he remembered, underneath the scent of sawdust and hearth smoke. They still had a familiar warmth, and they still fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Did you mean it?” they asked in a whisper, right by his ear.

“Mean what?” was his reply, punctuated with kisses to their temple as he filled his lungs with their scent.

“That you were sorry… That you wanted to come looking for me.”

He couldn’t help his small laugh as he held them that little bit tighter, resting his forehead on the crown of their head. “Buttercup, I meant every word. I’d come looking for you at the ends of the Earth if I needed to.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and he tried to clear his throat as he forced away his tears.

The comforting silence eventually broke as they hiccupped a sob into his chest. “I’m sorry too. For leaving. I… I couldn’t…”

He shushed them gently, lifting his head and bringing a hand under their chin to tilt their head back to look at him. He smiled softly at them over his shades, a gloved thumb running under their eye to sweep away the tears. “None of that,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of their nose. “Time for that later. Let me bring you home, okay? I can get you a hot meal and a bath. We can talk later.”

A small laugh escaped their lips, and the smile that he yearned to see took over their features. “You saying I stink?” they asked with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyes shimmering.

“Only a little,” he chuckled, stroking the backs of his fingers against their cheek. “So what d’ya say? Come home?”

Their features creased with thought for a few seconds, causing his heart to stop beating for that duration. Finally, they nodded, and he could breathe again.

“Sure. I’ll stay for the night.”

That was enough for him. Finally letting them go, he took their hand in his as they started to make their way back to the factory. He knew that hard conversations would have to be held. He’d have to really work at this relationship, to make sure that mistakes that he made wouldn’t happen again. But it was workable. He could fix this.

He needed to.

[rosesvioletshardy]

overtime win celebrations - mat barzal

okay this is very unedited because i lowkey rushed it and i know it’s bad. also this is very bad smut because i haven’t written it in a while and i tried to read others and my old ones to get some inspiration and try to make it at least accurate in a way idk

also a very happy birthday mat today 

(isles win today or else i’ll fly to new york and 🔪) (jk ,,, unless)

this was requested by @gigissports​ who gave me the idea of this fic when i said i wanted to write a fic but didn’t know what to write about or who to write about so thank you to her and i hope you like it

(also idk what that title is it’s the first thing that came to my mind)

(ps y’all should also follow her as well she’s an amazing person)

masterlist

mat masterlist

warnings: mention of fights, SMUT (18+) (minors please don’t interact), fluff, little angst? (idk mat is a little upset so idk if that’d count as angst)

# of words: 1,941 (sorry it’s short i tried to make it somewhat longer but my brain decided to go into writer’s block so)

----

It was all going well, up until it wasn’t. You knew that playoff hockey got even more intense than the regular season and meant that more injuries were prone to happen. Mat told you the night the Islanders got clinched that he wouldn’t try to get into many fights anymore or get anymore penalty minutes seeing that he’s their star and that the top player shouldn’t have that many penalty minutes. He managed to not get into any fights or get any penalties the first 4 games. You would’ve gone to the game but you decided to stay at yours and Mat’s apartment to watch the game due to being busy earlier in the day and Mat was completely fine with however you wanted to watch the game. The only thing he did request before he left was that you wore one of his jerseys that he wasn’t going to be wearing for good luck. As soon as you came home from work it was the first thing you did and you sent a picture to him to show him. You knew he wouldn’t answer right away but you saw that he read it. 

The game was going smoothly up until the second period where the penguins were leading by 3. You knew that the team was frustrated by the way they looked as the camera panned over to the bench and that they were trying their hardest. Mat’s line was now playing and you felt as if they were going to score during that period. It wasn’t until moments after Anthony’s goal where a fight broke out and Mat got into the middle of it. You couldn’t tell what happened but you stood up on your feet and became really concerned. It wasn’t until you saw him walk towards the locker room with one of the medics before they showed the reply. The rest of the game you couldn’t focus on and only worried that something would happen even later into the game. Mat had said he was fine but you knew that he wasn’t from when they showed him. 

The only good thing to come out of the game was the double overtime win and you knew it was going to be a while before Mat got home. You hadn’t really had anything for dinner because of it and could only eat crackers because your mind was only worried for Mat and Mat only. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep seeing how late it was. Mat on the other hand was exhausted as well and it was just from playing almost 5 rounds of hockey. A sigh escaped his mouth when he reached the front door and took out his keys only to find you sleeping on the couch wearing his white jersey. He smiled at the site before dropping his bag and taking his shoes off before walking over to you and crouching down in front of you. Mat took a moment to analyze the details of your face before he started to caress your face and wake you up. Your eyes began to flutter open as you saw him crouched down to your height 

“Hey baby” he whispered as you sat up making room for him

“Hi maty, sorry you had to see me like this” you told as he sat down and pulled you into his chest

“It’s okay you deserve some rest.” he said trying to hide his eye

“Let me see, don’t hide it.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad”

“Why would I be mad?” you asked him confusion running across your face

“Because I promised to you that I wouldn't get into any fights or get any penalties during playoffs” he admitted

“I’m not mad, I was worried the entire time. It happens.” you affirmed him as you ran your fingers over the bruised eye lightly making sure that you didn’t hurt him. The two of you sat there in silence for a while taking in each other’s company before you both looked at each other and brought your lips together. You’ve been with Mat for over a year and a half and yet he still gave you butterflies every time you kissed. Straddling him, you continued to kiss as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Everything in that moment just felt perfect. Mat pulled away and stood up, picked you up and took you to yours and his room. After laying you down on the bed, he began to slowly push up his jersey while pressing small kisses along your jaw and down your neck, leaving marks, making you moan before pulling away to take the jersey off. His breath hitched when he saw the lingerie you had on underneath and smiled and you spoke up

“I was going to surprise you when you got home but i ended up falling asleep, so this isn’t exactly how I planned it” you told him sitting back up

“Well I’m still surprised don’t worry and you still look beautiful” he said before giving you another kiss and laying you back down after you took off his suit jacket, shirt and pants leaving him just in his underwear as you traced your fingers down his body

“I love you so much. Thank you for everything you do. From supporting me at home and away games to dealing with me and my antics” 

Mat unclipped you bra as he pressed light kisses over your collarbones as his hands roamed all over your body and stopping at your thighs, Pushing your legs apart, his fingers hooking onto your underwear before sliding them off and inserting two of them inside you. His eyes never left yours, curling his fingers more and while his thumb rubbed your clit, causing you to moan

“Maty, please” you let out

“In all time princess. It’s all about patience” he whispered in your ear before removing his fingers as soon as he felt you clenching. 

Removing his fingers, he brought them up to his mouth and sucked off your juices and sank down to his knees and kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling scruff from his playoff beard he was finally allowed to grow out. He wasted no time when it came to eating you out as he sucked back on your clit. One of his favorite sounds was hearing your moans and whimpers, as a smirk plastered onto his face, gripping your thighs tighter. You became more and more frustrated as you tugged on his hair wanting more. Pulling him closer onto you,  his hands grabbed your breasts making you gasp and moan his name more. He began to slowly lick your clit before starting to suck on it. You can feel him slowly pull away before going back and inserting his finger again

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Mat that feels so good. Please don’t stop”

“What do you need princess?”

“You. I need you.”  

“Fuck, maty i’m so close please” you told him as you could feel him humming against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. The familiar feeling began to coil in your stomach as you tugged on his hair harder and him licking you as his name left your lips, almost to the point where the neighbors would probably hear.

When he pulled away, he pressed a kiss against your lips, making you taste yourself. Mat leaned over to grab a condom from the nightstand next to the bed as you began to palm him through his boxers before pulling it down. You helped him roll the condom on him as he then lined himself in between you and grabbing your legs to hook against him

“You ready?” he asked looking into your eyes, making sure you’re still comfortable

“Yes” you told him as you curled your fingers at the bottom of his hair as he pressed his lips against yours while pushing himself inside you, groaning into his mouth.

His hips rolled with every thrust he gave, his lips leaving yours and pressing kisses along your jaw as he whispered in your ear as the occasional moan left his lips when you marked up his back or tugged his hair more. His hands gripped around your waist as he 

“I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too”

“Are you close?” he whispered pulling away from your neck “Mhm” you nodded as a whine left your left as he thrusted harder, 

“It’s okay, let go” he whispered in your ear as the both of you let go of your highs. Mat came out of you and fell on the bed next to you. The two of you stayed quiet as you both breathed heavily trying to catch your breaths.

“Well that was-”

“Yeah” he finished as he took the condom off and threw it in the trashcan when got up and went to the bathroom

When Mat came back, he started to clean you up with the damp towel, making sure that you were alright and that he didn’t hurt you. He took his time making sure to stop as soon as you started to feel uncomfortable or started to wince. You kept trying to fight off the sleepiness that was taking over so you had a chance to talk to Mat about everything he wanted just so he can get his mind over it. Your eyes were starting to slowly close once again until you felt the bed dip and Mat’s arm pull you so your head was on his chest

“What’s going on through that mind of yours?” you asked him knowing that he was thinking about the game again

“Just the game, the fight, how much my eye hurts” he laughs off but you can tell he’s still somewhat upset causing you to get up and face him

“Mathew, you did your best, and you’ll keep doing your best. I know you know this but you go close to a goal each period and in overtime. Yes, it’s not going well, but you need to have some faith in you. There’s still some positives that happened, you assisted a couple of goals from Tito and Scott, plus the game winning goal. Those are still something-” you told him before he cut you off

“Yeah but they’re not a goal you know? Everyone, from commentators to interviewers have been on my ass about not scoring and it’s frustrating to listen to and when it happens it gets blocked” mat exclaimed, as he ran his hand through is hair trying not to show his frustration

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that will happen and things will get better. Remember you were struggling towards the end of the regular season and then you got a goal straight out of the penalty box?”

“Yes but-”

“But nothing. You still have game 6 and I know that you guys will advance to the next round and you will get that goal that you want.” you finished as you now sit on his lap staring into his eyes and grabbing his hands

“Okay, mainly because I trust you and I love you.” he said as he gave you a small peck on the lips

“I love you”

“Now, do you still have enough energy for another round or are you tired?”

“I don’t know, I’m not the one who played 5 periods of hockey and got into a fight” you smirked as he flipped you onto your back

“Well then, you shouldn’t have said that missy” he whispered to you smirking as he went back down on you

[itsallyscorner]

just like magic with marvel cast, the vibe is----- a perfect song for a lil b*tch with a good heart and a sarcastic mouth

just like magic is the song we ALL need for 2020😌 Start manifesting ya’ll🖤 Also thank you sm for the request I am so so sorry this took so freakin’ long😭 Love u, happy reading🖤🖤 Tried to add my own lil twist to your request:)

(A lil different from the request, but I tried to make the reader have a bit sas.)

💌.

just like magic

Growing up within the Marvel Cinematic Universe was probably one of things you were most grateful for. When you first started out you weren’t that social. You were new to the business, you didn’t know anybody and you were intimidated by every single actor you crossed paths with.

At first you didn’t feel like you fit in. You felt as if you were a burden to everyone else. You barely talked to anyone which made the others approach you out of force by the Russos. Everyone around you was talented while you were just some newcomer who had jack shit as experience. The first few years you were insecure of yourself mentally and physically. You weren’t as pretty or fit as the other women in the MCU nor did your skills live up to theirs. Which led to some unhealthy habits. Plus there were haters and movie critics who would say horrible things about you and your acting.

You had a rocky start unlike Tom Holland and even Lexi Rabe. Until one day when you realized that you had to change how you were thinking. It took you a while but all that negative thinking you were doing was only bringing you negative energy. So when you had a break from filming movies, your number one goal was to improve yourself.

Wake up in my bed, I just wanna have a good day (Mmm, ah)

Think it in my head, then it happens how it should, ayy

Twelve o'clock, I got a team meeting, then a meditation at like 1:30

Then I ride to the studio listening to some shit I wrote (Oh)

You woke up with smile on your face in a sense of calmness. The sun shined bright hues into your room as you got up from your bed. Today was the first day back on set. You guys were finally filming Civil War and you were honestly so excited. As you did your morning routine, you went over how the day would go in your head. You’re genuinely excited to see the entire cast. It has been almost half a year since you’ve seen everyone and you couldn’t wait to be back.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror. Compared to the previous year, you looked and felt healthy. Your eyes shined and you looked well relaxed. You know like one of those face cleanser commercials? That’s how you felt. You felt like a breath of fresh air.

The ride to the studio took a good 30 minutes but it felt like seconds. You entered the set with a new sense of confidence and pride. The energy was practically radiating off you.

“(Y/n)?” You hear someone call from behind you. You turn around and see Scarlett looking at you.

“Hey!” You greet her as you approach her. You pulled her into a hug, startling her.

“Oh! Hello to you too, honey.” She laughed as she wrapped her arms around you. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great! Life’s been good.” You answer as a toothy grin graces itself on your face. Scarlett’s eyes are filled with shocked. From the previous times she’s talked to you she’s never seen you so loud or open. You were always shy and closed off from everyone on set.

Good karma, my aesthetic (Aesthetic)

Keep my conscience clear, that's why I'm so magnetic

Manifest it (Yeah), I finessed it (I finessed it)

Take my pen and write some love letters to Heaven

Eventually everyone on set caught on to your new attitude. Though they tried to be discreet about their reactions and shocked expressions, you could still see how they were caught off guard by your sudden change of nature.

Anthony watched as you conversed with Elizabeth and Scarlett on the couch in Robert’s “village” . You were probably the most smiliest person in the room beating Evans, who was eating his lunch.

“She’s like different. But in a good way. It’s like she’s bloomed.” Anthony thought out loud to the men beside him. Chris (E) and Sebastian look in your direction.

“Bloomed?” Chris snorted as he swallowed his food.

“Yeah, like she’s growing into a woman.” Anthony hummed proudly as he went back to his own lunch. Sebastian smiled at you, “I think she’s gained some confidence in herself and finally realized how good of a person she is.”

“If she’s finally realized that, I’m glad she did. She’s like a ball of sunshine, it’s adorable.” Chris smiled proudly at you as your hands move around animatedly while explaining some story to the two women in front of you.

“Y’all think it’s a boy?” Anthony wondered. Sebastian rolled his eyes at his friend. Before he can even respond Anthony is calling you over. You approach the men with a smile and take a seat beside Sebastian.

“What’s up?” You greet them. Chris nods at you as he chews on his sandwich. Sebastian greeting you with a quiet “hey”.

“So who’s the lucky man?” Anthony asks teasingly. Your brows knit together head tilting to the side.

“Man?”

“Yes man, or boy, whatever. Who’s got you feelin’ yourself, (y/n).” Anthony wiggles his brows as he shimmies closer to you. Sebastian, who’s in between you two, cringes at the man to his left.

You didn’t take any offense to the question, knowing that everyone was curious as to why you were so unlike yourself.

You chuckled before smirking at the older man, “Anthony, honey. I don’t need a man to be feelin’ myself. I did this on my own.”

Chris and Sebastian’s mouth drop at your answer. Chris laughed as he pointed out Anthony’s face. Sebastian slung an arm around your shoulder bringing you into a side hug as he laughed with Chris.

“To be fair” Chris began to say but started to laugh, “To be fair, you deserved that.” Anthony’s face went flushed as he nodded to himself. You suddenly felt bad that you put him on the spot.

“Alright, stop laughing at him.” You playfully glare at Chris and Seb. You poke Anthony’s arm, “To answer your question, I’ve just been working on myself. Thinking more positively, I even tried manifestation.”

“You know what, that’s good. You’re taking care of yourself mentally and physically. I’m proud of you for doing this for yourself, we all are.” Anthony tells you as he motions to the two other men.

You look at all three of them, all of them looking at you with pride, “Thanks guys.”

Just like magic (Baby), just like magic (Oh yeah)

Middle finger to my thumb and then I snap it

Just like magic (Yeah), I'm attractive (Oh yeah)

I get everything I want 'cause I attract it (Oh)

As the months passed, the more you evolved into another version of you. You walked with determination, carried yourself with such grace and you’ve gained confidence in your career. You didn’t let your insecurities get to you, instead you faced them and overcame them. You were tired of letting them control you.

Your change in attitude and perspective on life has definitely affected your life in many ways. Manifestation was one of the things that have helped you the most. Writing about your goals and putting that energy out to the world has helped you persevere in your job. You’ve only faced good karma; sending out positive energy and receiving it back from the universe.

So far you’ve been casted in two new projects and have a campaign lined up with Gucci. If you were told a year ago that you’d be working with big time directors and freakin’ Gucci, you wouldn’t have believe them. Life has been unreal ever since you decided to change your life around. But of course you had to thank your Marvel family, without them and their support you probably wouldn’t haven gotten to where you were today.

Looking at my phone, but I'm tryna disconnect it (Oh yeah)

Read a fuckin' book, I be tryna stay connected (Yeah)

Say it's tricky at the top, gotta keep a slim ego for a thick wallet

Losing friends left and right, but I just send 'em love and light (Oh)

As many people recognized your success many people still tried to pull you down. Some fans on social media have noticed your change in behavior and have even praised you for practicing self care. While others still tried to push you off the mountain of success you were currently on and drag you across the ground.

These were the reasons as to why you were barely on your phone anymore. You used to be invested in your phone but after realizing how much negativity it brought you, you’ve decided to slowly disconnect from it. Which led you to becoming more interested into books.

Chris (E) had even brought some of his favorite arts of literature for you to borrow. You were currently on your third book of his, Sapiens A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari. You were sitting outside your trailer in a fold up chair under the shade. Your peacefulness was interrupted by Tom (Holland) who had a worried expression on his face.

“Have you not seen it yet?” He asked you as soon as he was in front of you. Being the two most youngest actors on the current set, you guys were closer to each other than with the adults.

“Seen what, Tommy?” You put a finger in between the pages you were reading to save your spot. Tom pulls his phone out and began to type. He tapped on his screen and turned the screen to you.

“She’s been talking crap about you for days.” You read the article and saw that one of your “friends”, Sabrina has been speaking out about your success and how it’s changed you as a person.

“She’s going off about how the more money you get in your wallet, the more bratty and arrogant you become.” He grumbled as he turned his phone off.

“I could care less, honestly. I know I haven’t done anything to her and if I did I was unaware of it. Plus, she stopped talking to me after I said I couldn’t get her a part in a movie.” You shrugged as you placed a proper bookmark in the book.

“You’re not upset?”

“I mean it’s sad that she’s acting so two faced. But if that’s how she wants to roll, then be my guest. It’s her loss, not everyone has great taste.” You flicked a piece of hair away from your face with your hand.

“You’re not gonna release a statement against her?”

“No, probably just wish her well with her life and move on with my own.” You answered much to Tom’s dismay.

Redesign your brain, we gon' make some new habits

Just like magic (Just like magic), just like magic

Filming has officially ended a few months ago and now you guys were doing press tour for Civil War. Before you were the new and improved version of yourself, you dreaded press tours. Some interviewers were nice and respectful, but there were those who would ask inappropriate questions and were just rude in general. All you could remember during those past tours was wanting to leave those rooms as soon as possible.

The q&a panel at New York had a packed room. There were many journalist crowded in the room shoulder to shoulder. You were sat in between Elizabeth and Scarlett, two of the women who have been guiding you and teaching you about life as a woman in the business. They were also like your older sisters.

The panel had been going smoothly for the first half hour until a man with a snobby face and cocky demeanor approached the mic.

“Hello, I’m Keith and my question’s for (y/n).” He began. You nodded in his direction, motioning for him to continue.

“I think everyone’s noticed how you’ve changed and developed as a person. Obviously something’s changed in your life. So I want to know if you’ve had any intimate relationships with any of the men in the cast?” You were surprised at the man’s question. First it was bold of him to ask such a question and second it was just disrespectful to you and the others on the cast.

“I mean someone’s gotta be fucking you good to make you crawl out your shell.” The man finished shrugging nonchalantly. Robert was about to interject but your mouth was quicker than his. The men of the cast were disgusted at the man while they sat at the edge of their seats.

“Well last time I checked my contract, my job was to act, not sleep around with the men who are part of these movies.” You spoke into the mic. All the attention was on you while the room was at a standstill.

“It’s also very upsetting that you think a girl needs to be fucked in order to be confident in herself. I hate to break it to you but women are completely capable of turning their lives around without the help of men and that says a lot about you, sir. So if I were you, I’d take myself back to my seat and rethink my life because if one of us has to redesign our brains it’s you.” You finished as you placed your mic on your lap. The room was silent until the cast began to clap. This was your first time standing up for yourself, usually Robert or Scarlett would swoop in and save you but this time, you were saving yourself.

You shook your head as you blushed, shoving your head in your hands. You felt some pats on the backs and cheers from your dysfunctional family. You look up and see Scarlett and Elizabeth smiling at you proudly.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Robert asked the crowd as he hugged you. The crowd cheering you on.

Just like magic, your life felt like a dream come true, knowing that you were worth it and enough for the people around you and for yourself.