#I've been meaning to post something like this for the longest time now but never really got into posting it-

[piko-power]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. 😈 (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[thebibliosphere]

Am I reading this right? You have been beating yourself up for not 'working more' and not 'doing enough', but, the mere act of being AT YOUR DESK is extremely painful? Sitting at your work station, just SITTING THERE, caused you PHYSICAL PAIN, but you were still under the impression that you should be able to just 'power through that' to do, what? How much more are you expecting out of yourself? A book a month? Its not like you've STOPPED WORKING. What time table were you holding yourself to???

Here's the thing, my body has always hurt.

Even when I was a child, I was in a lot of pain that was dismissed as either "growing pains" despite the fact that I never got past 5 feet tall at the age of 11 or "attention seeking." So, I learned to stop talking about it. (The trick is now getting me to shut up about it.)

And for most of my teens and twenties, the pain didn't really stop me too much. It was bad, and it sucked, but for the longest time, everyone kept telling me that "everyone" felt that way, so I just sort of learned to power through and hide it under the assumption that "everyone" feels this way.

Well, turns out that was a mistake because my body hit its breaking point, and what might have been a mild genetic disability that could have flown under the radar is now a severe one that greatly impacts my daily life to the point where sitting at my desk causes me pain (because everything causes me pain).

Couple that with some new-age religious trauma about willpower, positive thinking, and whatever the fuck else my parents thought I was capable of as an 'indigo starseed' and the fact that I was trained to mask my ADHD by being a hyper-competent workaholic-- I really don't know what a healthy baseline is.

(I mean, heck, I wrote the first book of Hunger Pangs while literally dying. I assumed it would be edited and published posthumously. Jokes on me because now I've got to edit the rest of the fucking thing.)

I didn't, obviously, and ever since then, I've been trying to learn what a healthy baseline looks like for me post-recovery, and I think I'm doing quite well at it and enforcing my boundaries when people ask too much of me.

But none of that makes up for the shrieking frustration I feel that I can't do the things I want.

I want to be creative and do fun things, but I can't because my body won't let me. I want to write more, but I can't because I'm swimming in brain fog most of the time. Yes it hurts to sit at my desk, but I also need to earn money so the financial burden of everything isn't solely on my partner. (Something which he argues I shouldn't even be worrying about right now, but it's hard not to worry as I watch him work himself to the bone taking care of everything because I can't.)

I promise you, I'm not hustling my ass into an early grave. There is, in fact, zero hustle about how I work. I am very, very slow these days compared to how I used to be. There's no timetable for one thing. I get done what I get done, and that's it.

I'm just perpetually frustrated that my hyperactive brain is trapped in a malfunctioning meat suit. And my blog is where I talk about it and work through my emotions because, well, that's what I've always done long before Tumblr was even a thing. It just so happens now I've got an audience.

[andersonfilms]

we could go there | a. anderson

tags: eighteen+, sexual innuendoes, mentions of sex, jealousy, ow*n, beware i'm an ow*n hater 'nd i display that hatred here, two gays in love, fem!reader, fluff city, get a snack bc this is the longest fic i've ever posted.

a/n. hi guys. it's ray, again. as i begin to roll out content slowly, i want to make it clear, i fully support palestine. anyone who consumes my content, i strongly encourage to do the same. i have no patience for ignorance. below are links to take a look at. educate yourself, donate where you can, and reblog if you can't. hopefully you guys like this one, it's been a labor of love and a bit different than what i normally post. anyways, with love as always ♡

DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.

divider creds — @cafekitsune

Owen could not have been this fucking stupid. Practically trying to piss all over Abby as if she were something to own, some damn property to own, as if she wasn’t an actual person with feelings who could make her own decisions. The man only thought with his dick and the ugly green head growing endlessly. He only thought of what he wanted – never what she needs.

Meaning the only thought bouncing in your mind? Punching his crooked jaw.

To put it simply, Owen was not managing the breakup well by any means. It had been three months and still Owen continued to grab onto Abby like a leech. For this exact reason, you told Abby you wanted to keep whatever was happening between you away from prying eyes. Everything with Abby was still new, and you did not want to rush it. Ruin it even. Really, you wanted to stay in this small, secure bubble with her for the longest you could.

So, you kept it this way.

It was nice when it was just the two of you. Abby always likes to cook for you after a long week. Friday nights ending with her, a bottle of red on the dining room table, her cuddled up to your side. It surprised you how willing she was to be available for you each week, only missing one Friday due to a nasty cold. There were no prying eyes, no preconceived judgement – absolutely no expectations. Just you and those gorgeous blue eyes you couldn’t help but fall deeper for. With a soft familiar shine, every word she spoke dripped like pure honey all over your heart, making it brand new again.

You didn’t know what sweet was until her.

Never been more sure of it until now.

As if there was never an ache to be had, a heart broken – she seemed to seamlessly mend every broken piece of you.

You were so soft on her, and the Friday night dates only helped the cause. There wasn’t a damn thing you could do to help yourself from falling for her. Even when your knee jerk reaction is to run in the opposite direction, your feet stay glued to the ground. Kind words and services of affection gripped your heart with an iron fist and somehow, she managed not to break it.

You loved it. You were terrified. You want to run into her arms and never let go.

But of course, the man was the complication. The retched, jealous ex-boyfriend who could not imagine her being with a woman when he was right there. Owen always seemed to try and worm his way whenever he was around the two of you. Abby knew, just as well as you did, he wouldn’t be able to stomach you two together. So, she tried to keep it concealed for his sake and she wants to protect you. Owen is her loose end to tie; the last thing she wants is you in the middle of it.

Especially when things were going so well with you. Abby really had not expected to move on so fast, or at least find someone as amazing as you so soon, but you were right under her nose the whole time. She felt like an idiot for never recognizing it, but she thought better late than never, right? It’s overwhelming guilt consuming her, telling her it’s wrong to feel this happy so soon, but there’s no choice but to shove it down.

If she wants to be happy, pretend like the stress of Owen’s instigations aren’t getting to her, she needs to shove.

So, Abby shoves.

The stoic-blonde tries her best to hide what you two had from the rest of the group. Not until she dealt with her baby of an ex-boyfriend and his unresolved feelings. She just wanted to give him enough space to move on, but now it would be impossible.

She knew it and you did too. To Owen, it had been the most obvious. You were almost certain he was starting to put the two pieces together.

God was he being even more insufferable than ever.

It was nauseating you the way he was acting. He needed to be talking to Abby, sitting by Abby, touching Abby. Abby. Abby. Abby. The ignorant man’s mind focused on one thing, and it was his ex-girlfriend. Deep in his bones he believed there was still truly a shot and part of you thought there was. She did not like girls, or you, as much as she thought she did. She kept him around, never refusing what he wanted, and the two of you were not official.

You told yourself so many times, lies of assurance turned into fact in your mind, masking what the truth actually is.

Truly, there’s little to do.

Abby did not really owe you a damn thing.

Sure, she was available for you and those nights were everything to you. Most of them spent together ending with her fucking you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

You’re just a need for her to fill. A quick fuck, that’s all you are.

Persistent as ever, thoughts of doubt seemed to nag and linger throughout your head.

You’re not good enough for her.

She’ll run back to him.

Abby just wants your body, not you.

Everything had an expiration date and possibly, you need to start facing the harsh reality, she could not possibly be ready for all of this. Although, the possibility of her still hung up over Owen filled you up entirely with disdain.

What else were you supposed to think? Abby refused to cut ties; she wants to keep the two of you a secret. Even if she had been stuck to your side like glue all night, it did not stop the anxious feeling rumbling in the pit of your stomach.

You craved for more, but it could be possible you were just the building block until she found the next person to move onto. It’s not like Owen and her were some short-term fling. They had been together for years and clearly, he thought it would be for the long haul. He knew her in ways you couldn’t. The pair had been friends since they were kids. He gave her the support she needed when she lost her dad.

You could even understand how difficult it would be to give up someone like that, even if it was Owen. You would never blame her for not being able to let go of it. Never would you be able to forgive yourself if you held her to this crazy expectation, just like Owen did. So, you tried to hide for both of your sakes. It’s been easier in your relationship with Abby in the beginning. When it was new and fun, it went unnoticed.

But it clearly written all over the two of you tonight.

You were too drunk and even if Owen’s eyes were on the two of you, all you saw was her. Everyone was busy roasting marshmallows, still cool enough in beginning of spring, fire crackling as you watched it glow Abby’s features.

Her freckled cheeks and ivory skin sporting an orange hue and you were a little too obsessed with it.

She’s so beautiful. All you can think about is pressing your lips against hers, claiming her in front of everyone. It’s all you want.

But your own insecurity gets the best of you and somehow, it’s possible to dig down deep, suppressing the urge.

So, you try to place your focus elsewhere.

Even if being here with Abby, side by side, was a bad idea. She shoved her pussy in your face for consolation. You come with her, a party Owen would be at, and you finally get to eat her pussy out which you took full advantage of prior to arriving.

-

Ellie thought it would be important for the gang to get together before spring break rolled in and you had agreed along with Abby. Thankfully, Owen had shown up late and the only spot available to him was on singular chair across from where you were snuggled up with Abby on a two-seat bench.

Your hand on her thigh as you told her something dumb, silly even, but the smile on her burned so bright – you couldn’t help it. Any day of the week, it’s all you want. To see her happy, beaming. It just so happened to be your luck she did it often with you. She might’ve been cautious with Owen around, especially when it came to her proximity with you.

You’d eaten her out on your bed, before you rode in the passenger side of her jeep. Fuck, did you love how happy she looked, how relaxed she’d seemed. Abby didn’t tell you, but Owen had never even offered to do that before. The fact you had been begging for it unprompted had her heart pumping. Delicate hands running over her thick thighs as she let you spread them out wide before you made yourself comfortable between them.

She was replaying it over in her mind as she smiled wide at you. Abby could listen to you talk about whatever, forever. You made her feel good, didn’t ask her anything in return, but she would absolutely return the favor. Maybe by the end of the night, even.

It’s moments like these, making you believe this could be something special. Even convincing you Abby would want this with you, to be your girlfriend. For her to be yours seemed like a fever dream, but the more time you spent with her, you couldn’t deny it’s all you wanted. You were just terrified she couldn’t possibly want to be like this with you.

The uncertainty was a bitch and you felt like you were choking on it.

“Where’d you go, sweet girl?” Abby’s thumb smoothed over your chin. She wants to pull you in closer, claim you in front of everyone, but she doesn’t want to deal with the heat from Owen. Abby is fully capable of handling him, yet she can’t find it within herself to subject you to it.

It’s the last thing you deserve, not when you’ve been anything but perfect to her.

She tries to pretend the fear isn’t there as her throat bobs, attempting to swallow it down.

“Just thinking about…someone.” You drew out with a smirk on your face.

“Someone, hmm? Is a certain blonde the someone? Is she in the room with us?” Abby looks around in faux cluelessness. You have no choice but to laugh as she roasts two marshmallows for the two of you in one of her large hands.

“She might be, but she’s being silly right now. I’m not so sure anymore.” You teased, a smirk pulling at your lips. Abby likes how it feels to have your hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth. She’s thankful for the fuzzy, thick blanket placed over you both, concealing unwanted eyes from the affection.

The chilly, midnight air bites into your skin, it’s dropping more quickly than you anticipated but you’ll live.

Abby still feels the rapid beating of her heart, it’s deep in her soul. She wonders if you can feel it too. She takes a moment to look at you, really let her gaze fall on you and she knows how badly she’s fallen. It feels obvious, in the way her blue eyes are glossed over in love, the way she offered to roast your marshmallow for you, the way she insisted on sitting next to you whenever you were making your way over to the other bench with Jesse. She takes note of the black hoodie you’re wearing, the one you stole from her closet, her cheeks are crimson, but she’ll blame it on the cold if anyone asks.

Yeah, it’s the cold making her heart skip a beat.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” Abby asks again, taking note of your body shivering before her.

“I-I’m fine, Abs. Promise?” But you weren’t. Your body was shivering, and you couldn’t speak without your teeth chattering.

“Oh yeah. You’re fine, right?” Abby taunts.

“Abby…please. Not right now.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

“Maybe you should spell it out for me.”

“Now, you’re just being mean, Abs.” You begged, pleaded with her to let this go. You didn’t need another reason for him to judge either of you. The two of you already had been more affectionate than you wanted to be in front of Owen.

“Oh, I’m the mean one?” She tilted her head cockily, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. Dangerously leaning into you as her eyes took a quick glance at your lips. Forbidden fruit she could only have in the safety of your apartment or hers. Made her full warm, her mind wondering about how you made her feel. All the things you’d done to her, how you always picked up when she called, how you seemed to know what to say and at the right times.

It’s not fair.

“Tonight, you are.” You replied, trying to see if there was another conversation to escape into, but everyone was engaged in conversation, except for Owen. He was looking right at you, furrowed eyebrows and jaw clenching as he took Abby’s undivided attention directed towards you.

“He’s looking right at us, Abby. You guard dog looks like he wants to choke me out.” You turned towards her muscular frame, only to find she has leaned in even more. God, she was trying to torture you. Infinitely so.

“Well, he’ll have to get in line.” Abby teased, dropping a wink that made you feel hot in the bitter cold.

“Baby, you’re killing me.” You lightly pushed her, laying your head against her shoulder.

“Calling me baby in public? Are you trying to torture me…baby?” Abby whispered in your ear as she maneuvered her free hand underneath the blanket and interlocking with yours. She kept it against her thigh, but it was her turn to rub her thumb against your skin.

“No can even hear us.”

“Would you care even if they could?” You paused for a moment as you contemplated.

Would you truly? Owen’s reaction wouldn’t be the best, but it would take the relief off your shoulders. Honestly, you would have been nervous if Abby was truly serious about this.

About you, but she’s not.

“You’re holding my hand, Abby.” You sighed, content with her warm fingers heating up your freezing ones.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking doing more than just holding your hand.” Abby rested her head against yours, “But I’ll settle for this, at least for right now.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty much all I think about these days, especially after you ate me out this afternoon.” You feel the heat even in the freezing cold, taking the sharp remark right off your tongue.

She was smirking wildly at her accomplishment, until she noticed the glare being sent her way.

Abby stares at Owen and she can tell how angry he looks, but she knows better than anyone he’s all bark and no bite. He won’t say anything to her right now, not until she’s alone. He doesn’t want you around when he says what he needs to.

Abby knows what he wishes to tell her. It’s been on the tip of Owen’s tongue after the breakup, but it’s a little too late. She doesn’t care to hear how sorry he is. It’s holding no weight. He only wants to fix things once he’s turned her into an afterthought. It makes her feel sick, unwanted even.

She feels none of those things when she’s with you. All the doubt, self-hatred, and regret piles in the back of her throat when she thinks about Owen. His presence no longer provides her with comfort and safety. All she sees is the blood on his hands and it fuels her with rage. She shouldn’t feel this way. Abby doesn’t want to, so she drowns herself in you.

Abby can’t feed into his delusion anymore; she knows she can’t. Not if she wants to keep you around and keep you happy.

Owen knows his limits. Abby will never talk to him if he interrupts her while she’s preoccupied with you, she’ll be out for his neck if he tries anything, the look she was giving told him that.

“Would you just stop being stubborn and take my jacket?” Abby speaks quietly. She removes the marshmallows from the pit of the fire, and you grab the graham crackers and the chocolate with your free hand.

Purposefully, you ignored her comment.

“You know, this would be easier if you let go of my hand.”

“Not going to happen, gorgeous.” Abby chuckled as she watched you struggling to remove the graham cracker from the plastic encasing. She takes in the way your eyebrow furrows in concentration, trying to get this god-awful plastic away from the treasure. Plump lips pouting, practically begging for assistance.

“Abbbyyyyyy.” You grunt, clearly frustrated with the damn crackers.

“Do you want my help, baby?” She asks innocently, but there’s nothing innocent about her voice. It makes you want to fuck her right in front of everyone. Especially with Owen watching. Yeah, fuck him. Why did you have to suffer for his shortcomings? Clearly, he wasn’t good enough for her, but you would be. You’d treat her like she fucking deserves. In your bones, deep in your very being, you would never make her feel like Owen did.

She’s perfect in your eyes. So precious and joyful, she made you feel good, and you hoped you did the same for her. Carefully, she set the marshmallows she’d be holding on the skewers and placed them carefully in your lap.

“Give it here, baby.” Abby’s delicious, big palm inviting you to place the bag in her hand and you did. It shouldn’t have been as sinful as it is, but she barred her teeth on the seam, creating a tear, placing the crackers on her lap. Immediately, Abby rested her head against yours once again. It made your heart skip a beat; how close she wants to be with you tonight.

Secretly, it’d been kind of an unspoken agreement when she was with Owen. Abby didn’t like public affection, never really had been into it. Made her feel nauseous at the thought. So, Owen stopped trying and because of it you’d make a point to never push more than she was ready for. But making her come on your tongue three times before you left the coziness of your apartment brought it out of her. Somehow, you had managed to subdue her into a needy, whining little girl who needed your touch, or she just might just die right then and there.

It's what you told yourself. You weren’t quite sure what else to believe.

Abby knew the truth; she’d been hiding tucking it away for safe keeping. She could let you know when she was ready, but right now, mindlessly she let herself lean into your body. With an open heart, Abby allows herself to feel the warmth and comfort only you could provide. The soft feeling in her heart she’d never felt with anyone else.

Silently, you brought your eyes to connect with Dina’s before she dropped a not-so-subtle wink.

Dina was the one who convinced you to even go for it in the first place with Abby. You really didn’t want to pick on the dead carcass of her fall out with Owen, but it was clear to everyone just how much Abby cared for you. Dina was sure the braided blonde didn’t even know it herself at the time, but anyone with eyes could see.

All of it had been so easy, being with her was the most natural thing in the world. This right here; she’s the blueprint for what it’s supposed to be like. It helps she’s sweet on you, more than anyone has ever been. You wish you could look at her right now. The beanie was so goddamn cute on her. She looked too good with her bomber jacket, the one she offered to you insistently. Repeatedly because she knew how damn cold you are. But you’d prefer her cuddled up into your side — her body heat felt better than any coat could.

“Do you have the chocolate?” Abby asks sweetly and you hand it to her, and she breaks up a handful of bars as she places on top of the the graham crackers she pulled out of the bag. “Can you?” She lets the end of her sentence drag off, but you know exactly what she needs.

You lift your head from her shoulder, and she pouts at the disconnect.

“Why’d you move?” She brings her hand closer to her inner thigh and it’s when you feel the bulge concealed beneath her trousers. You don’t say anything — you don’t want to spoil the fun she clearly has planned. Although, it makes you feel heated. The intention behind it sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps spreading all over your skin.

“You’re being stubborn, Abs.” You huffed trying to pull your hand away, but her grip tightens.

Got it. Better not poke the bear.

“Just place it right there. I’ll remove it from the skew.” You listen to her, picking up the first one and placing it delicately on top of the chocolate, and you slowly pull it away as Abby looks you dead in the eye. Making s’mores feels more sensual than it should be, but maybe just being around her makes you feel this way.

It’s just her making the tingling feeling between your thighs reignite.

Abby’s hands are sticky from the roasted pillow of sweet, white substance stuck around her fingers. Her heavy-lidded eyes, look down at her fingers before looking back at you. She seemed to be in a daze, thinking of something else. You could guess exactly what Abby was thinking of.

“I would ask you to clean it for me if we were alone, but this will have to do.” She slides her forefinger and middle in her mouth, and god, you’re imagining it. Your mouth wrapped around her thick fingers, tongue circling around it as if it was her cock fucking your mouth. It got her off just as much as you did.

She liked to have you like this, completely and utterly under her control.

Abby pulls off with a hardly subtle pop, her lips are moist and fuck, her fingers are incredibly wet. You can practically feel your cunt purring at her, the throbbing insatiable as you’re looking at your pretty girl like she’s a slab of meat to be butchered and slaughtered. Really, you can’t help it.

The sex isn’t just good. It’s fucking amazing. Stupidly obvious in the way it just makes sense with Abby. She’s reminding you of it, as she gestures for you to pick up the second skew. Sticky fingers getting caught on the marshmallow again, cleaning it off with her mouth again. Breathy, quiet, moan slips out before you can catch it and she’s smirking so loudly you want to kiss it off her deeply cocky face.

“Hm, guess I can’t blame you for getting all hot and bothered. I know how much you love my fingers. Especially when they’re inside you, huh? Just a little bit of déjà vu from last week.” Abby teased lightly.

“You’re going to pay for this.” Threatening the blonde beauty as you grabbed the finished s’more, and she grabbed the other one.

“Am I?” Abby’s voice dropping an octave lower than how she usually talks. Trying to do her best to bring out all the stops to do her best to effectively ruin you.

The answer to her question is left open in the air, the two of you silently finishing off your s’mores, her hand still in yours. Abby doesn’t want to let go. Even wants to hold your hand on top of the blanket, for everyone to see, but she doesn’t want anyone to ruin the moment. She’ll take for this now, but knowingly will push for more for later. When you’re ready for it. It’s still fresh, new and she needs to learn to be patient even if it’s the last thing she wants to do.

This time Abby is leaning her head on your shoulder. She takes in your sweet sent, pine mixed with vanilla, and it intoxicates her. Owen is finally engaged somewhere else besides her. It’s a relief. To not feel his accusatory eyes on her. Abby doesn’t want to feel guilty about her affection towards you. You’re too lovely for this to be seen as anything but beautiful.

She won’t let anyone take this away from either one of you.

You engage in conversation with Ellie and Dina, they’re to the left of you where you and Abby are sat. Dina’s, making you laugh about something stupid Ellie did earlier this week. Ellie claims it’s not nearly as stupid as Dina makes it out to be, which only sends you and Dina through a tailspin.

It obviously was just as idiotic as it sounds, but what Dina says next brings Abby to full attention.

“Hey, were you going to call Leah back? She sounds pretty interested in seeing you.” Dina questions you, a smirk playing at her lips, and it makes you want to scream.

Fuck.

Dirty fucking Dina.

She played it off as coy, maybe Abby wouldn’t question Dina’s intentions, but she sure as hell would give yours a second thought. Ellie let a small chuckle, earning a death glare from Abby. It was painfully obvious to the couple the feelings you felt towards one another, but neither of you took steps towards making it official.

“Leah?” Abby questions, her grip on your hand tightens, afraid if she eased up, you might slip.

“Y-Yeah, just a girl I met at the work event I told you about.” You let out, trying to land the blow gently but it already had made its impact with Abby. There was nothing gentle about the knife she felt in her heart.

Abby’s jaw clenches too many times for you to count, her grip is cruel, and she won’t meet your eyes. She suddenly finds the flames in front of her incredibly interesting. Ember reflects from Abby’s eyes, they’re still blue, but icy as you try to find them, but she refuses.

You want to tell her it’s innocent. It doesn’t mean anything, and it really doesn’t. You felt stupidly insecure that night. Pleading Abby to come with you, but it was Owen’s birthday dinner, and she couldn’t make it. Felt like a horrible slap in the face for her to pick him over you even after the breakup. One cocktail turned into five and before you knew it, you put your number into a pretty girl’s phone. She danced with you, she flirted, and it felt nice to be someone’s priority, their full attention seated with you.

The night ended with a sweet kiss on the lips, a promise she would text, and you would call her. Leah made good on her promise, and you found yourself falling incredibly short of yours. Abby came over around midnight, it felt a punch to the gut to make time for you now but not before. Yet, you let her in even after how miserable and alone her actions made you feel.

All you see is her. Her lips and the voice you love. She makes the anger melt away as if she wasn’t the one to instigate it in the first place.

She apologizes for not taking you up on the offer. Her puppy eyes pleading for forgiveness. She has a tote full of goods which allow her to breach past your door. Chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of your favorite red wine, the ingredients for your favorite dinner, and tempting lips you’ll know will have their way with you by the end of the night. Abby knows just as well as you do, both of you are fucked.

It’s the first time she stays over at your place, and it feels solidified. This could all end up in flames, with both of you burned, but somehow it feels worth the risk. The light glistens through the bedroom window as it shines on her eyes, the blue standing out as she looks on your sleeping form. Black sheet concealing your body from her. Then it’s almost like you know she’s watching you and your eyes open meeting hers.

Smiling softly, it reaches your eyes, and your head nuzzles into her chest, sighing contently. Before, your brain could excuse how you felt, but after that night, it had changed. You realized just how much Abby had wormed her way into your heart, into your soul – you didn’t wish for her to leave.

But it still didn’t negate what you felt, the fear of losing her to someone she might still be in love with. Yeah, so she did feel remorseful for picking him over you, it didn’t mean she still didn’t care about him. It was Abby – of course she did. Everything was still so new, there wasn’t enough foundation to land on, for either of you to be sure. You had to hope it was strong enough to support the two of you.

You felt lonely, and Abby wasn’t there to give you the comfort you needed so this was your way of lashing out without speaking to her about it. It was small, but the thought echoed and occupied all the space in your brain.

She’ll leave you for a man, they always do. How could this be any different?

Past experiences drawing the conclusion for you, instead of actually speaking with her about how you felt, leaving Dina to air out your dirty laundry.

Dina kept talking, but she changed the subject. Still, didn’t stop how tense Abby is. She refused to notice anyone, her focus trained on the flames in front of her, anger brewing beneath the surface. You were holding onto the fact she hadn’t let go of your hand. Maybe you could settle your strong headed, burly bear.

You’d seen a couple times just how protective she could be over you. The fact you were possibly entertaining someone else, besides her, stung.

Everyone else had funneled inside, but Abby stayed by your side. She still wouldn’t look at you. She was as stoic as you’d ever seen her. She still wouldn’t keep her eyes off the fire, it was dying out and it felt like there wasn’t much you could do but watch it with her.

Owen would get exactly what he wanted. Maybe the two of you would never even become a thing because of your fatal case of loneliness. It made you nauseous. He didn’t deserve her, but it seems neither did you.

“So, who’s this Leah?” Abby broke the silence, her voice cracking in the process. “A-And why didn’t you tell me about her?”

You bite on your bottom lip, tugging it so carelessly you could taste the iron.

“It’s not important. She’s not important.” You reassure, but it doesn’t offer Abby much comfort.

“Obviously she’s important enough for Dina to know about her and not me.” Abby bites, her tone colder than it ever has been directed towards you.

“It’s not what you think, Abs.” You pause, not wanting to lie to her. You can see the self-doubt swimming in her eyes, and you need to do your best and reassure her, nothing is going on. “It was before, you know, that night.”

“So, you were seeing her? Both of us at the same time.” She thinks it’s not even a question. She states it as if there is nothing to be found but truth. It feels like there is a blade in Abby’s back, one you put there yourself, but now she’s only feeling the wound.

“No, baby, will you just let me explain?” Abby nods, allowing you to continue.

This won’t break everything will it? You should have told her. It really was stupid not to, silently cursing at yourself.

You’re going to kill Dina for exposing you like this. Fuck. Damn the red wine and her loose lips.

“The night we were fighting about you coming as my plus one or going to Owen’s dinner? Do you remember that?” She nodded her head, waiting for you to continue. “Well, I sort of, met someone the same night. She gave me her number and we kissed.”

“Huh.” It was more bitter than contempt. Rage? You weren’t sure.

“You’re mad.” Abby’s jaw clenched; her grip was tight again. “I’m sorry, okay? In my head, you had abandoned me for him. I was lonely and hurt. I just wanted you there with me, yet you went with him, and it felt nice to have someone’s attention. It was stupid. I only did it because I felt like I didn’t have yours.”  

“Did, um, you ever see her after that?” Abby looked at you, finally. Her eyes begging for the answer she needed. Preparing for the worst but found herself hoping for the best.

“Abby?” You tilted your head to the side.

“What?”

“Do you really think I would?”

“I don’t know. I thought I was the only girl you were kissing.”

“Well…we do a little more than kiss.” You teased lightly, a smirk on your face.

“Stop being cute right now, it’s not fair.” The blonde pouts, upset she couldn’t stay upset. “I deserve to be angry right now.”

“Do you?” You leaned in closer, your breath kissing Abby’s face. “Last time I checked, I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Baby.” Abby whines, her frustration wasn’t holding. It never really did, but you did have a point. Neither of you had made this official, but Abby would argue it sure did feel like it.

“Look, I know we decided to keep things just been us, not really label it, because of your messy breakup with Owen. We were still trying to figure out what this was, and it was new and terrifying for you.” Your free hand found purchase on the end of her braid, tugging at the open strands, your thumb smoothing over it.

“I respected your decision and I’ve kept this between us. I mean, our friends do have eyes and it’s not like we’re exactly doing a good job of hiding it anymore.” You laughed softly and Abby was sporting a hint of a smile on her face.

 “That night when I spent time with Leah, I let my insecurities get the best of me. All I could think about was you and Owen. I had convinced myself you were getting back together with him, and this is why you had ditched me. It’s not an excuse, I should have told you about it, but what else am I supposed to believe?”

You took a deep breath, trying to control your emotions. You didn’t want to break down in front of her, but someone had to start this conversation. Abby sure wouldn’t. If it made you the bad guy, so be it.

“Even now, he’s still a concern. He looked like his head was going to blow off from pure despite. We’re still hiding. I can’t just sit here and pretend I’m okay with this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who can hold me hand in front of our friends.” You sighed, pulling away from her entirely, stepping towards the flames. It was time for the two of you to come to an end. It’d be better for the two of you, before either of you gets too invested and someone ends up really hurt. Sick and wretched filling gnawing at your heart, telling you it is already a little too late for that.

You love her, but you love yourself a little more. It’s not her fault, but your past girlfriends always burned you because of the ex-boyfriend. Broken promises of a future together until they crawled their way back to where they put themselves, back in the closet. The shame of liking girls, you, too much for them to bear.

Ending the same, your heart beaten to a pulp before you stitch yourself together again.

Abby hasn’t disagreed with anything you’ve said, making you believe she still holds a torch for him. The single thought alone makes you feel nauseous. Just being a placeholder, whether it be for Owen or someone else.

She stayed fucking quiet, and it only pissed you off.

This is it, the final nail in the coffin.

“Abby, I think we should put a pin in this. I-I’m sorry. I know you’ve apologized since that night, but I can’t see past him. Not if this isn’t going to become more. I need more than this.” You confessed to her, continuing to walk away from a still silent Abby.

It wasn’t fair how much you cared for her, possibly even love. Finding yourself choking on it and she seemed to be doing just fine with the thought of never having it again.

Maybe she was still in love with him after all. How fucking pathetic does this make you?

-

Abby was stoic the rest of the night. Owen noticed the space between the two of you and tried to use it to the best of his abilities once everyone was sitting around the couch, watching a classic Christmas film. The rest of the group was adding commentary when considered necessary, stuffing their mouth full of chocolate goodies and kettle corn. Trying but failing, you couldn’t focus on the movie. Not one bit.

All you could think about is how quiet she became, hands stuffed in her pocket as she watched you end things and didn’t pipe in once. It was clear you overestimated your importance to her. A rebound. A steppingstone. An experiment. You hated all of it. You hated thinking about it. All your fears about her came true and now you’d have to pick up the pieces alone.

She would go back with Owen. She’d never consider you an actual option. You would give her the whole world if she asked, but that was just it, she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Not in the entirety of the four months you spent together. Abby was always trying to protect his feelings, but never considering she was shattering yours into tiny little pieces.

Making yourself scarce to the kitchen, Owen’s cocky smile and Abby’s avoidance to meet you in the eyes was allowing yourself to drown in self-depreciation. You couldn’t stand it. So, you chose the most delicious vice you could think of – chocolate covered strawberries.

It would do for now, until your heartache subsides, allowing yourself to get a grip on it. You were halfway into your fourth one when she walked in, of course she would. Fucking hell.

Your eyes trained on the food in front of you as you took another bite.

Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.

She let you stand there in the cold, like a pathetic, lonely loser practically begging her to say anything and she stuffed her big, lovely hands in her jacket pockets and stayed silent. Abby doesn’t care, her conscious won’t let her be the one who’s hurt you. All she wants is to make amends; she doesn’t want you.

The seasonal depression has its tight hold on you, and Abby unwillingness to catch you, fuck, it makes you want to punch her stupidly gorgeous face. Who gave her the right to make you feel this way? Painfully, you see in your peripherals her hands twitching by her sides, standing in front of the door, at least supplying a barrier from everyone but you can see the uneasiness in her.

But you do look at her.

You wish you hadn’t.

Abby isn’t moving besides her hands; she’s shed herself of the coat and she’s in a sweater you bought for her with a chain around her neck that you also had gifted her on her birthday. It’s not fair to you how cozy she looks, how much you want to escape into her arms and welcome the comfort she would offer in a heartbeat. Her body runs like a human furnace.

You crave for her to tell you everything is going to be alright; you want her to reassure you with her lips on your temple, you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and focus on her heartbeat. You’re still so damn cold, even in this heated house. Your body craves her comfort more than you want to admit, it’s become second nature.

Her hair is falling past her shoulders, beanie has been abandoned. Abby combs her fingers through her hair, giving them something to do because she’s almost certain she’s going to faint from seeing your pretty eyes glossed over. You’re drowning in something sweet, no doubt due to the bitter taste Abby left in your mouth.

It makes you even more uneasy the two of you were supposed to share a bed tonight. After everything, you didn’t trust yourself around her. Not one bit. Even if you were hurt, the second she put her arm around you, all anger would be thrown at the window. You didn’t want her to drive this late, it wasn’t safe. The roads were beginning to ice over and Abby hates driving at night. The only other room big enough for two was Owen’s and the thought made you want to puke all over him.

She finally spoke up and you were strangely thankful for it. You weren’t sure where your thoughts would’ve gone, resentment growing with them.

“I know you probably won’t believe me but I’m sorry. I should have asked you how you were feeling about all of it.” Abby apologized, but she hadn’t moved an inch. “I just thought…” She left you hanging, basically prying your lips open for a response.

“What?”

“There hasn’t been anyone else for me, okay? I-I don’t want anyone else.” She looked around the room, trying to focus her attention on anything else but your undivided attention. Her palms were sweating as she wiped them on her sweatpants. “Can I tell you something without you totally making fun of me for it?”

“I would never make fun of you, Abby. Not like this.” You offer a gentle smile, encouraging her. She knows now what she should’ve done before – fight for you.

Abby thinks it’s why you’re avoiding looking at her. She can see the wanting in your eyes. If you’re not looking closely enough it drowns in disappointment, but it’s still there. Abby recognizes the look; it’s how she looks at you. Disappointment can’t be found, but her love for you can.

The most perfect girl for her. Fuck, she’d found a way to ruin it.

You’re really the only person who puts up with her day-to-day shit and you don’t complain. You’re you about it. Incredibly graceful, sort of hurts Abby’s cheeks because it makes her smile so damn much. She’s taken advantage of your kindness, and she needs to make sure she does everything in her power to make amends.

“It’s okay, Abby. Whatever happens, you always have a safe space with me.” Reassuring her while biting into another strawberry.

You’re still so sweet. Fuck, Abby wants to kiss you, hard.

“I really believed I was in love with Owen, I care about him. He was there for me when shit hit the fan. Sometimes, I feel like I owe him because of it.” Abby took a breather as she stepped forward, but you stayed sitting on countertop.

“It’s not fair to you and it is sort of my fault he hates you so much. I just want to protect you from it, but I haven’t done a very good job. It’s really embarrassing for me to admit this.” Abby sighed as she stood in front of you, her big frame standing between your spread legs, a snug spot for her to fit into.

You tilted your head at her curiously. “Just tell me. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“It is.”

“Abby?” You questioned her, but still chose to be tight lipped. “If you want to fix this, I need you to talk.” The cocky attitude had evaporated from earlier, leaving you with one you usually got. The girl who was too afraid to kiss you on the first night. Arguably, you like this version of her a little more.

“I, um, so, I sort of kind of used to think of you when Owen and I used to have sex.”

“Um, okay? Is there a reason I need to know this?”

“Well, the reason I think he hates you so much, on top of me kind of being all over you all the time is….”

“Abby, if you don’t tell me right now, I swear to god.”

“Okay, okay.” Abby took a deep breath before she let the confession tumble from her lips. “Whenever we would, you know, I would always kind of sort of, call out your name instead of his.”  Abby mumbled, closing her eyes in shame.

“Baby….you’re kidding.” An itch to laugh bubbles, but you’re able to muffle your giggle enough.

“Would you, you know, not laugh at me.” Abby sighs. “See! This is why I didn’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s him. He couldn’t even fuck you good enough to get your poor, gay brain off of me, huh?” Abby let you tease her, your smile, an equal trade for her pride. Her hands glide along your thighs, igniting a fire beneath your skin.

Abby loses the hint of teasing when she responds, “Yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I never stop.” Abby took a step forward, your pelvis pressed and to her, legs latched around her toned waist.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you.” She leaned forward, peppering kisses along your neck, you're gripping onto the chain around her neck, your initial engraved on the pendant. Boy, does she make you want to forget about everything as her teeth latch lightly, giving you a playful bite before her tongue soothes over the ache.

“Abs, fuck um don’t you think we should talk first?” Your strong resolve from earlier fading into the tranquility of Abby’s comforting arms.

“Okay. Then, talk babygirl.” She continues to kiss your neck as your neck as you struggle to find your footing.

“I-I just, um, I need…” Subconsciously, your fingers dip into her blonde waves, tugging at the root slightly.

“C’mon, use your words. You did a pretty good job earlier you know, felt a little humiliated back there.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“Abby…It was Dina. I never would have brought Leah up like that. Truthfully? I wasn’t going to bring her up at all.” Abby frowned, lips pouting, clearly frustrated.

She was red, tense, and the jealousy in her gray hues burned bright. Carefully, her hands gripping on your thighs, giving them a light squeeze.

“I didn’t like hearing about another girl kissing you. Someone else who isn’t me…it pisses me off.” Abby sighed, look down at your sweats. “Not hearing it from you just made it so much worse for me.”

With the admission, you tugged her closer to you, resting your hands on her defined traps, caressing the nape of your neck.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you and I didn’t.” You tugged her closer, if it was even possible, letting the safety of her arms comfort you. “Dina just wants me to admit to you how I feel. It’s why she said it.”

Abby perked up at your confession, neatly placed in the palm of her hand.

“How do you feel?” She asked, cresting some distance between the two of you, pulling you out of the crook in her neck, a new home you’d taken residence.

“One condition…”

“Yeah?” You grasp her chin, tilting her head up slightly, grip tight.

“Next time we’re fighting, and I ask you to say something, you better speak next time or so help me god…” You trailed off but Abby couldn’t take it anymore. She had been dying to kiss you all night, since you’d done the service of your sweet, skilled mouth eating her out like you were personally starved.

“It’s cute, baby.”

“I was talking. Abby?” She silent as you wait for Abby to respond but she just cocks her head to the side, a smirk plastered on her face.

She leans in, whispering in your ear, “You can keep talking. Just let me return the favor from earlier.”

Abby doesn’t give you much time to respond before she’s removing your legs from around her waist, her pretty honey-blonde hair is thrown into a low bun in preparation as she offers her hand, and you take it as she helps you off the countertop.

Abby catches you, strong arm around your waist pulling your body against her.

“How does that sound? You, bossing me around and giving you a reminder of just why you put up with my bullshit. Yeah?” You come down to your natural height, Abby’s presence even more damning. It didn’t matter if she was taller or just a bit shorter than whoever she was around, the confidence she exhibited was fucking damning.

She’s so broad, big, and intimidating and she’s willing to sink to her knees for you. Abby licks her chapped lips until they become shiny and pink.

Fuck, she has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

You nod but she makes no movement to take this somewhere.

“First, tell me how you feel.” Abby rubs her thumb over your soft skin, caressing your cheek with a delicate touch. “C’mon, I mean I might know but I just need to hear it.”

“I just, I’ve been wanting for us to make it exclusive…just me and you. Tired of hiding, in front of our friends especially. I want you to be my girlfriend.” You admit sheepishly, eyes trained on the floor until Abby tilts your head vertically by gripping your chin.

“Baby, it’s all I want you. Jus’ you and I against the world. Yeah?” Abby’s lips mesh with yours, the fit is perfect as if your earlier problems hadn’t melted away.

They didn’t. They were still there, but you could work through them together. You and your girlfriend, against the world, together.

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

[xxaraaq]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙚

masterlist

Synopsis | Alicent is a Godly woman who's morals stand high above everything else. She's given everything she's supposed to to the realm. She is so selfless, so fucking her husbands brother is the one thing she can keep to herself, right?

Word count | 1.5k

cw | Infidelity, spoken violence, corruption?

Authors note | Hi y'all. I know I haven't posted in literally the longest time ever but if I'm being honest I've been fighting with life it up until about a week ago it was beating my ass. Anyways, I'm back now, and I hope that this will make up for it, enjoy! Not edited.

She is a good queen.

That’s what she thinks to comfort herself whenever the regrets of her past set in.  She has done her duty to the realm, giving birth to formidable sons and a beautiful daughter. She did what she was supposed to do, she just happened to do it with the wrong man.

No one could blame her for her choices. Her husband, a now senile, miserable old man who had no romantic love for her, failed in his role as her source of comfort. Once Rhaenyra went off and fucked her uncle in a brothel, she felt as though she had no true friends, no real allies.

No one except you.

You were the youngest of you, Viserys, and Daemon. Meaning that you had no real responsibilities. You had close to if not no chance of inheriting the iron throne, and you accepted it. Instead of struggling futilely trying to climb your way up the line of succession, you sat back, kicked your feet up, and enjoyed the life of a royal, of a Targaryen.

With you and Alicent being so close in age, you only being four years her senior, she found it easier to converse and jest with you compared to her husband and virtually everyone else around her. You were light hearted, a companion she often sought the company of. And even though her fathers concern grew about the influence you have on her that grows with each passing day, she paid it no mind. After all, she was the queen, and no one could tell her no.

It was the day the ‘rumors’ spread about Rhaenyra that you swooped in. Exhausted, you were the first person she went to to deliver the news. 

“Your sister has ruined almost any chance she has at marrying a suitable lord.” Alicent huffs, pacing back and forth around the room. You chuckle, amused by the entire ordeal. “She is a princess, maiden or not, my brother will surely find a wealthy husband for my niece.” You say, trying to ease her nerves. It obviously doesn’t help, her looking at you like you have two heads. “This is nothing to joke about. Your niece might run your entire house into ruin with the horrid accusations circling about. Have you no care in what happens?” She yells, desperate to get you to understand her frustration in it all. “Accusations? Alicent, my closest friend, you are no fool. You and I both know she fucked my brother in a whorehouse. You can speak freely with me, I promise you that.” You stand from your chair, making your way towards her. You love your niece and brother, but you’re also not one to deny the truth.

A tear slips from her eye, the stress of it all pouring down on her. “Oh, my dear, don’t cry.” You cup her face in your rough hands. A chill runs down her spine, something she’s never felt before. The look you have in your eyes is not what she’s seen from you before. Your eyes are dark, a smirk on your face that means nothing but trouble.

“You are a good woman, I must say. A loyal wife, an obedient daughter, a great friend. You never fail to be there to fulfill the needs and wants from others around you. But what about your needs, hmm?” You ask, tone sultry with an emotion she can’t pinpoint. “I-I don’t understand what you mean.” She stutters, growing shy from your demeanor. “You know what I mean, Alicent. When’s the last time you’ve truly felt fulfilled? Rhaenyra is too busy chasing after Daemon like a lost pup to spend time with you. Your husband is still stuck on Aemma even though he’s the reason she passed on in the first place, God's rest her soul. And your father, as much as he may love you, sees you as nothing more than a tool. I am the only one who has genuine intentions for you. The only things I care about ensuring is your well-being and happiness. A life full of not knowing what it’s like to be pleasured and to bring pleasure is not one worth living.” 

She knows that you mean this deep down in your heart, and that makes her want to give in all the more. ‘We can’t, what if someone finds out?” She asks, fear covering her features. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Who would be so impudent as to try and tell the King that his youngest brother is fucking his wife?” You say. 

She thinks for a second, then two, then three. “I’m… I’m not certain that having an affair would be for the best.” She says, backing away until she hits the edge of a table. “Let me show you what I could do for you, please? If you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll never make an advance again, I promise this to you.” You almost plead, desperation laced through every word you speak. You have to have her, you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t.

Her silence fills the room, making your heart beat all the more harder. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the Gods for having you in their favor the moment she nodded her head yes. It was slow at first, a kiss on the neck, a light caress on her thigh, but then you stopped holding back, and you took her to that table in a matter of minutes. You held your hand to her mouth, trying to keep her as quiet as possible as you fucked into her tight cunt with a fervor you’ve never felt before. Everything about her drove you crazy as you corrupted her. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she so futilely used her hand to try and push you from her as your thick cock plowed through her. 

Your secret relations kept on through the years, past the birth of Ageon and the rest of the children. The both of you knew that all four of them were yours, words not needed to be spoken to know that you were the one to sire the king's heirs and not the king himself.

As everyone grew, so did the tensions concerning the birth of your niece's sons. You had to laugh when you first saw Jace’s brown tufts of hair. How could she be so transparent about her infidelity? It was Rhaenyra’s actions that truly caused the hatred to stir within Alicent. You knew as well as everyone else that it was only a matter of time before things grew too large to keep a blind eye to it all.

The day that Aemond was maimed was one that nobody could ever forget. It was truly just a blurry haze of squeaky voices, deep insults, and the sound of a sheathed blade. The royal blood that covered the pavement that night would never be forgotten. You were the one that escorted the queen back to her room that night, providing an environment where her tongue could be as loose as need be. You shut the door, the creakiness that shows its age filling the silence. “That vile woman and her, her…” She couldn’t even get the words out, she was so furious. “Bastards? Say it Alicent, we all know it to be the truth.” You say, leaning against the stone wall. She groans, hand running over her face as she goes back to her habit of pacing the room. “The king is so shielded by the love he has for her, he can’t even see the vile things she has done.” She says, pupils so dilated with rage she can’t see straight. “Must I remind you that we are in the same boat as her, only that her’s has started to sink while ours stays afloat?” You say, quick to point out the sins she has also committed. The words catch in her throat, taken aback by your sudden correction. “Are you taking her side?” Her voice trembles with stress as she picks at her nail beds. “Do you not remember how I to this day sneak into you room through secrets passageways to fuck you to sleep every night? How I’ve filled your womb with so much seed I’ve impregnated you four times? Or have you forgotten how all our children are bastards as well?” You say, your voice sarcastically sweet as you grip her waist, pulling her backside flush to her chest. You lay kisses on her neck and shoulders, soothing her tenseness almost immediately. “What happened to our son is a tragedy that may never be avenged. But as he said, the reward for losing his eye was much greater than the pain he suffered.” You whisper in her ear.

She is a good queen, she thinks to herself. 

She is a good queen, even as she lets you fuck her up against the bed posts, mouth cover by your calloused hands once more to keep her muffled sounds of ecstasy hidden from the outside world

-Nene

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into a tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

[zionworkzs]

Alright, let's talk about this scene in S1 Ep3:

Let's take this line by line, shall we? I added in some stage directions so we can see the acting choices alongside the dialogue (because this scene!!! this scene!! there is so much unsaid and communicated via body language).

*Crowley gets into his car and Aziraphale miracles inside*

C: *surprised*

C: What are you doing here?

A: I needed a word with you.

C: What?

A: I work in Soho. I hear things. I hear that you're setting up a...

A: *looks at Crowley*

A: caper. To rob a church.

C: *looks away from Aziraphale*

A: *concerned* Crowley, it's too dangerous. Holy Water won't just kill your body, it will destroy you completely.

C: *annoyed* You told me what you think. 105 years ago.

A: And I haven't changed my mind. But I can't have you risking your life. Not even for something dangerous. So... *pulls out thermos* you can call off the robbery.

C: *looking at Aziraphale, clearly surprised*

A: Don't go unscrewing the cap.

A: *not looking at Crowley anymore*

C: *looking between the thermos and Aziraphale* It's the real thing?

A: The holiest.

C: *attention fully on Aziraphale now* After everything you said?

A: *nods, still not looking at Crowley*

C: Should I say thank you?

C: *still looking at Aziraphale*

A: *pointedly NOT looking at Crowley*

A: Better not.

C: Well, can I drop you anywhere?

A: No. Thank you.

A: *briefly glancing at Crowley*

A: Don't look so disappointed.

A: *looking away again*

A: Perhaps one day we could, I don't know. Go for a picnic.

A: *looking at Crowley now*

A: Dine at the Ritz.

C: I'll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.

*silence, and the longest amount of time Aziraphale looks at Crowley this whole scene*

A: You go too fast for me, Crowley.

*both looking at each other for a beat before Aziraphale exits*

OKAY SO HOLY HECK

I feel like this scene gets boiled down to THAT line we all remember (and we'll get there), but I feel like the whole scene and the context is so so important if we want to understand THAT line.

So the background info:

1862 AD - London, St James Park: Crowley asks for holy water.

1941 AD - London: Aziraphale meets with Nazi agents inside a church. Crowley swoops in to save the day (and the books). We have the magic show and the lovely candelit dinner afterwards.

This scene takes place in 1967 in Soho, London presumably.

So, since 1862 when Crowley first asks, Aziraphale has been thinking about this request of his. Aziraphale presumes in 1862 that Crowley wants the Holy Water as a "suicide pill," and Crowley never corrects this assumption.

So, Aziraphale is under the impression that in 1967 he is giving Crowley a tool to use for his own destruction, if it comes to that.

He goes against Heaven and, from our understanding, steals Holy Water so he can give it to Crowley.

The implications of this are DEEP and COMPLEX. Because this is the FIRST time we see Aziraphale directly go against Heaven without any kind of moral out. He isn't saving Job's children. He's literally defying Heaven to protect Crowley from doing something stupid.

It's a purely selfish action that directly goes against Heaven.

This is HUGE for his character. And as I've talked about a bit in this post, I think by this point, Aziraphale was fully aware he was in love with Crowley.

This, THIS, is proof of his devotion to Crowley. Going against Heaven overtly to supply him with something he believes Crowley will use to end himself.

You can see Aziraphale's guilt and concern in this scene simply through how he choses when to look at Crowley and when to not (michael sheen, I'm in ur walls).

He looks at Crowley concerned when he talks about the church heist. He says as such. That he thinks it's too dangerous. He pointedly DOESN'T look at Crowley once he hands over the Holy Water. Like he can't bring himself to come to terms with what he's done. (Looking out for the person he loves by giving them a means of their own destruction.)

And this little interaction:

C: Should I say thank you? C: *looking at Aziraphale* A: *pointedly NOT looking at Crowley* A: Better not.

He doesn't want Crowley to thank him for what he perceives to be a sin. For giving him the ability to end himself. It hurts Aziraphale to think about. I think, even being in the car near Crowley hurts Aziraphale then.

Then we get the exchange at the end.

Crowley offering to drop Aziraphale off, which the angel denies.

Aziraphale clearly reading Crowley's disappointment and offering a fantasy of the future he doesn't believe they have in an attempt to cheer the demon up.

A: Perhaps one day we could, I don't know. Go for a picnic. A: *looking at Crowley now* A: Dine at the Ritz.

He looks at Crowley for the briefest of moments when he says "dine at the Ritz."

These things that Aziraphale is offering are normal, human pastimes. Nothing grand or overtly romantic. Just, a picnic. Dinner. It goes to show us how deeply Aziraphale loves humanity and recognizes that same love in Crowley (even if their love presents itself in different ways).

He's saying: one day, when I'm not me, and you're not you, we can do the things humans do. We can be simple.

And then, of course:

C: I'll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.

Crowley says this line almost desperately. He wants to stay in this moment. He wants to draw it out. This moment where this angel he's befriended cares for him so deeply that he'd risk everything.

I haven't talked much about Crowley in this scene because at this point in their relationship, and I know this is controversial, I don't think Crowley is in love with Aziraphale here.

I talked about it in the aforementioned post, but it's my interpretation of Crowley's character to be naturally distrusting of others. Which makes sense given his history.

I don't think he's in love with Aziraphale in 1967.

But I think he recognizes Aziraphale's love for him, even if only for the briefest moment. He sees Aziraphale's willingness to save Crowley from himself and knows that there is something there.

But he is SCARED. Big scared. And he doesn't know how to deal with the influx of information being presented to him.

And I think he reads between the lines of Aziraphale's words. He hears Aziraphale say: one day, when I'm not me, and you're not you...

I'll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go. Is Crowley saying: You're saying we have to be different people, but we don't. I can take you right now to a picnic, to the Ritz. Nothing has to change. We can be us.

And Aziraphale says:

A: You go too fast for me, Crowley.

You go too fast for me, you treat life like a speedrun to get to the good parts. Hell, Crowley slept through the 19th century because he wanted time to move forward. Aziraphale recognizes this. He's in love with this demon who won't slow down and appreciate the mundane, human things that Aziraphale treasures. He goes too fast. He never settles down.

And I think this is a gross misunderstanding of Crowley's character on Aziraphale's part. He thinks Crowley is too fast and never settles down. Changes his hair, his clothes, his accent. But the clothes and the hair are all set dressings to Crowley. They are distractions from how set in his ways he truly is.

Crowley is s l o w to everything.

So slow that it scares the shit out of him and he overcompensates by re-inventing his image every chance he gets. He wants to blend in with his surroundings so he can be just like everybody else.

It's a deep self-hatred most likely instilled in him since before his Fall. He was not good enough for Heaven. He isn't bad enough for Hell. He can't even pass as a human because of his eyes. He doesn't fit anywhere.

So he could never fit with Aziraphale.

He doesn't even see it as an option.

Not yet, anyway.

Aziraphale misunderstands this as Crowley being unable to take time and care and put work into things that truly matter. Aziraphale thinks that they can't be together because they are too different. No matter how much he loves Crowley, Crowley is, and will always be, just a few steps ahead of him. He will always be just out of reach.

This scene is Aziraphale's confession and subsequent realization that they can never work.

This scene is Crowley understanding Aziraphale's feelings and his inability to process his own.

This scene is devastating. Because it's another miscommunication. It's a clear example of how these two understand each other, and, even after 6000 years, don't understand each other.

[syoddeye]

useless, part three

Part three (and the finale!) of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. I finally used my third prompt.

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

66. Price or Reader is auctioned off for a date as part of a fundraiser

cw: one pregnancy mention (Reader does not get pregnant, has never been pregnant)

Read Part One, Part Two. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~4.2k words, Price x f!Reader. This is the most self-indulgent shit I've written in awhile. Please enjoy.

It's past midnight when you limp through the front door of your flat, dropping belongings and articles of clothing alike, shedding both the weight of personhood and your eighteen-hour day. You set your keys down on the end of the counter, ignoring the thin folder for the umpteenth time. James will undoubtedly text about it in the morning, his patronizing messages more reliable than any alarm clock. A half-hour commute home, and you didn't even glance at your phone in fear of accidentally seeing another email from his lawyer. Solicitor. Whatever.

Hamhock slinks out from his lair beneath the bed, weaving between your ankles when you drag yourself into the bathroom.

"Hello Hammy," You whisper, eyeing the newer crop of gray hairs near your roots with a weary neutrality. Definitely the fundraiser's fault. Your hair started to change long before this year's planning began, but this is the longest period you've gone without dyeing it. One thing to thank James for. Not only did his departure give you a crystal clear focus, it freed you from his ridiculous expectations. He'd've commented the moment he spotted the wisps of silver, then casually worked something like anti-aging cream into the conversation.

The prick poisoned the well, and now the only man in the world for you currently lies at your feet. How it should've been from the start, really.

After checking the orange menace's automatic feeder, you slip into bed, allow him to assume his nocturnal throne—your armpit—and plug your phone in one-handed. Your eyes glaze over at the sight of notifications, thumb swiping by muscle memory, and set an alarm. With two weeks left until the big day and more than a hundred unsold tickets, you need every moment you can get. You sigh, counting the tasks of the day ahead instead of sheep.

You'll sign the divorce papers tomorrow.

~~

Naomi practically forces the granola bar into your hands. The assistant stage manager and the props lead—the younger woman is the glue to your glue. A newer fixture at the Bramble Theatre, she was you to an extent, maybe a decade ago: fresh-faced, eager, and optimistic.

"I didn't like how you were looking at the wax fruit."

"We should swap the oranges for plums. Or pears."

"We've been through this. The oranges fit the palette, from the paintings to Dotty's–oh, quit pulling my leg."

You grin, then jut your chin at the stack of slips in her hand. "Are those the waivers? Did all the volunteers sign?"

"Yes, I can post headshots today on socials, so that should boost sales."

"Good. That's one fire extinguished," Rubbing your temple, you lean back in your chair. "I feel gross about it, though. I mean, we run shows that are hundreds of years old, but a date auction? Why don't we raise a guillotine out front and sacrifice effigies to raise money?"

Naomi blinks and whips out her phone. "...Okay, one, I'm noting the effigy idea for next year, but two, the auction won the vote, and everyone participating volunteered."

You grimace. "I know, it's just–"

The sudden opening of the door to your shoebox office interrupts. Theodore, business manager, director, and occasional movement coach, bursts in. Everybody's a multi-hyphenate.

"Terrible news!"

Wonderful. A new fire. You squint, chewing, and watch Naomi try to stifle a laugh valiantly. "Whatever could this be about?"

The older man slams his palms onto your desk, his layered pendants tinkling. "I've punched the numbers, including a best scenario, stars aligning–"

"Teddy. Out with it."

"–we're going to be £40,000 short. Even if we sell out, even if we raffle off the company like cattle, we are circling the drain!"

The tired amusement leaves your body, and in its wake sits a five-digit number and the distant idea to schedule a salon appointment.

The annual fundraiser for the theater, your hard-won home, is a dramatic, demanding, and near-disastrous event every year. The theater has continuously operated a hair above the red, but the laundry list of expenses from the last year cannot be ignored. The new light rig, the stage flooring replacement, the curtain repairs—they never stop. Sponsors and grants only go so far.

Originally, you took this job for its laughable but slightly higher pay and because running around like a madwoman between four gigs at a time wasn't as thrilling or charmingly bohemian as it was in your twenties. Your livelihood depends on the playhouse's success. And the economy. And the general public's attitude toward the arts. All wildly variable. It made you resourceful, and already, you were composing a mental list of people to politely bully for pledges promised in years past. You need time and a phone charger.

"Teddy," you set the half-eaten granola bar down. "Go get ready for afternoon rehearsal. Naomi, cover for me today?"

"'Course."

Theodore swipes his spindly fingers over his brow, nodding fervently at your resolve. "If anyone can pull it off, it's you. Do tell if there is anything yours truly can do." With a flourish, the director departs your office, but Naomi lingers.

"You know if it's donations we need…"

You shake your head, immediately knowing what she intends to suggest. "Out of the question."

"But think of her–"

"I'd rather debase myself and resort to dinner theatre."

"I'm just saying–"

"Naomi," You stress. "I am not calling my mother."

She frowns. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Are you really so proud you wouldn't leverage your family's connections to save the Bramble?"

It makes you pause. As usual, she's right. Irritatingly so. You could take another salary cut, but you'd need to find a flatshare, a humiliating idea. Hammy wouldn't survive it, the sensitive thing. You sigh and dismiss her with a wave.

"Fine I won't rule it out. But I'm going to shake down half the city first."

~~

An hour later, you've managed to secure a percentage. Not too shabby, but far from the goal. You take a break to read James's team's latest, vaguely threatening missives and entertain the idea of withholding your signature until he makes a donation. What's a little extortion in the name of art?

You know it's wrong to delay this ugly process. How close relief is should you simply sign the papers. But it's another failure, another black spot in your life's ledger. Another dream crushed beneath the boot of reality. With a wave of bitterness, you type out a curt reply, ensuring you will sign the papers and ask them to arrange for a courier tomorrow.

Naomi's suggestion takes advantage of your mind's lethargy, testing the strength of your will and stubbornness. The last time you phoned your mother was months ago, on the anniversary of dad's death. The old man took his last bow five years back, and it destroyed the last bridge between you and your formidable mother. In retirement, she still holds court with major political players stateside…and across the pond.

Before you let your loathing catch up, you pull up her contact card and dial. It's after noon in D.C., the middle of the week. You might get lucky and reach her voice–

"Is everything alright? You're not in the hospital, are you?" Her donnish, sharp voice hurtles you through time and space to your teenage years. 

"No," You answer with gritted teeth. A headache waits in the wings. "No, I'm fine, mom."

"Then why are you calling?"

This is why dad handled conversations. You stand, swiftly shutting the door to your office and locking it. "Can't I just call my mom?"

"Of course. Historically, you do not," There's a low murmur of chatter in the background. She's at a luncheon or at the club. "So I assume there is a reason."

Having an ex-ambassador for a mother is a joke. All that practised charm for everyone else in the world, none of it reserved for you. "Okay, yes, there is a reason."

"Thought so. Well, darling, what is it? Is it James? Don't tell me you're pregnant."

You return to your desk and eye the bottle of bourbon on the corner. "No. James and I are divorcing, remember? This is about my work."

There is no acknowledgement of the separation. Instead, your mother pulls the phone away from her mouth, excuses herself from wherever she is, and the background noise dissipates. 

"Your work."

"Yes, the Bramble? Look, we're two weeks out from our big annual fundraiser, and–"

"Oh, you need me to write a check." The clicking of her heels halts abruptly, and if you didn't know any better, she wilts. "Fine. How much do you want?"

Your face heats with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "I am not asking for money. If you would stop interrupting me…Ugh, mom, I need help contacting some of your old friends here. If there's anyone you know looking for tax deductions or a pet project to brag about, the Bramble is in a bad spot financially."

In the past, whenever the theatre and, by extension, your chosen profession came up, your mother took the opportunity to lecture. She reminded you of the wasted opportunities she afforded you. She brought up your old schoolmates and their current positions. And most insulting of all, she always, always compared you to a certain soldier. Bracing yourself for her monologuing, you reached for the bottle.

"Why didn't you open with that, darling?"

Your fingers close around empty air, and you nearly pitch out of your seat in surprise. "What?"

"Send me the information. I've been meaning to reconnect with some old friends. When is the fundraiser?"

"In two weeks," You repeat, scrambling to pull up your email on the ancient desktop. "Tickets are–"

"Email it. I'll book my flights today and let you know when I'm getting in."

Your hands hover over the keyboard, and your neck protests the angle it bends to keep your phone lodged between ear and shoulder. "Oh, no, mom, you don't need to come."

"Nonsense. I'll, of course, make my own donation, and as a donor, I ought to see where my money is going."

Christ. For the Bramble, you remind yourself and exhale. "Okay. You do that. Listen, I have to get going…but mom?" It kills you to say it. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome. Oh, this will be so much fun. I haven't visited since before your father. You know, on the topic of reconnecting, I happened get an email from the Prices the other day, and John–"

There it is. You kick into fourth gear, rattling off your exit. "I've really got to run. Thanks again mom, send me your flight info. Love you. Bye!"

You feel like you've run a marathon and dodged a bullet. And yet, as you send the email and file the waivers, your mind snags on your mother's words. On a name. His name. It's not the first time your unhelpful brain's waylaid you with a trip down memory lane. Admittedly, it's happened more since James asked for the divorce. Most nights, if it isn't life's stresses hounding you, it's an endless parade of what-ifs behind your eyelids.

What if you studied economics instead? What if you stayed in America? What if you hadn't gone to that stupid New Year's party? What if you hadn't kissed John? If you didn't get on the train? 

The people in your circle frequently speak about living life without regrets. It's a romantic notion and a highly unrealistic one.

Your phone buzzes—Naomi. You're needed. Pushing the past where it belongs, back on a dark shelf, and head out to put out another fire. 

~~ 

Three days before the fundraiser, your mother lands in London and hosts you at her hotel for dinner. Playing catch-up is a professional sport with a whirlwind of names you barely remember and memories you remember very differently.

You pick at dessert, listening to another story.

"–and he was so insistent that that school of yours was a breeding ground for monsters, and I told him, isn't that what's needed in today's society? People need thick skin in politics and business. You'll be happy to know, though, he bought four tickets to the fundraiser."

You don't remember who you're talking about but smile and nod. It's a tough pill to swallow, your mother's success at rallying old friends with deep pockets. Teddy's practically in love with her despite having never met her, popping his bald head into your office to sing her praises whenever another pledge arrives.

Your response is rote. "That's wonderful, mom. Thank you."

She prattles on for another half hour before you decide it's time to return home to Hamhock and burn the midnight oil on the fundraiser's date auction. You asked the company for fifty-word bios and actors, bless them, struggle to contain their self-praises. When she finally pauses to take a sip of wine, you rise. "I should head home, lots to do–"

Ignoring you outright, her head turns, and she grins. "There you are!"

Following her gaze, your brow lowers in confusion until you clap eyes on a trio headed in your direction in the company of a server. Very briefly, you consider the melodramatics of matricide. You've been set up.

Mr. and Mrs. Price look well for their age, puttering toward your mother. They are greyer and a little shorter, but the warmth is there.

John, however…

The universe is intent on humbling you.

The hair is the first thing you notice. Short, kempt, and annoyingly a dark shade of brown. It's crept southward onto his face in a beard of a choice style. There is comfort in the finer details that clarify as he nears. He hasn't escaped time's passing with a face marked by crow's feet, frown lines, and forehead furrows. Beneath his shirt, there's a slight suggestion of a belly, though, with his thick arms and the narrowing of his waist, he's clearly a wall of muscle.

The worst part is how infuriatingly kind his smile looks. It's the beard. Softens him. Once an arrogant prick, always an arrogant prick.

John rumbles your name in a whisper, reeling you in for a polite peck on the cheek. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

You're years beyond fifteen and twenty-five, but how swiftly the impulse to snark resurfaces is alarming. Maturity tempers you. "You look good, too."

After a few minutes of greetings, the two of you are tasked with heading to the bar to fetch drinks. Wholly unnecessary what with a server, but it's a clear command to let the 'adults' talk for a spell. Nevermind being shy of forty. John's quick to try conversation when the order's in.

"You haven't changed a bit," He observes, leaning against the bar beside you. 

"Now there's something a woman wants to hear after a decade." You huff, casting your eyes across the restaurant, finding it difficult to look at him. The dark blue of his sweater makes his eyes pop.

"Fourteen years, actually," He corrects. "Drinking martinis, actin'…"

You snort. "You're half right. The Martini half."

His elbow gently knocks into yours atop the bar. "Apologies. My mother told me you'd been in My Fair Lady last summer."

That draws your attention. "No. The theater put it on, but I'm the stage manager. I haven't been on stage in ages." Your eyes flicker to the table, then back to him. Heat crawls up your collar. What other information has your mother passed along? Glancing down at your bare ring finger, you turn the conversation. "Not so different from a Captain, I reckon. How's that going?"

John squints a little, and his mouth pulls into a familiar smirk, tugging at old strings in your stomach. "Can't complain."

"Riveting stuff," He chuckles at that, a deep rasping sound, and you find yourself grinning. "Don't suppose that bit of clandestine, secret agent-type shit your mom's talked about?"

"Secret agent?"

"Yeah. Mentioned it in a Christmas card maybe three years ago?" You smile triumphantly into your glass. Seems both your mothers have a penchant for dressing up the truth.

His jaw works a tick, and something heavy passes behind his eyes. "Well, 'm not. Not exactly."

"Let me guess. If you told me, you'd have to kill me?"

He refocuses some, and a short laugh leaves him. "Something like that."

It's all painfully familiar, but it feels different with a little more life under your belt. His mere presence keeps you on your toes, yet you haven't felt this comfortable in months. For all the history and tension, talking to him is easy. A silence passes, the drinks arrive, and you ferry them to the table.

The night passes better than you expected when you first saw the Prices. They express belated condolences over your father, you chat about the fundraiser, and John politely navigates questions about his work. It frightens you when he briefly mentions Piccadilly to know he'd been there in the carnage. Part and parcel of military life, you guess. 

"John, be a gentleman and walk her to the station," His mother chides as the five of you congregate in the hotel lobby.

"He doesn't need to do that," You hastily say. Not again.

"'Course."

There is something dreadfully giddy to how your parents wish you both goodnight.

At least you do not need to take his arm this time. Still, there is no way John isn't thinking about that night. Not when that look of quiet desperation he wore is seared within your memory. It's silly, but you peeked at his hands earlier, and like yours, they're naked.

You break the silence to fish. "How long are you on leave?"

"A week. Got in yesterday."

"Do you normally visit your parents?"

"Often."

Doesn't mean there isn't a woman in his life. 'Often' is not 'always'. 

"Visit anyone else? Friends?"

He chuckles. "Sometimes."

You roll your eyes. "You know, you haven't changed much either. Aside from the beard and smoker's lung. Still a stunning conversationalist."

John smirks down at you. "Picked it up in the army."

Oh, yes. He remembers.

The conversation lulls, and the walk is short. You figure John's keen on a repeat when he wordlessly escorts you to the platform. But today's not a holiday, and the station is reasonably busy. He watches like a hawk, nonetheless, when you check the time.

"Brings back memories," He quietly comments.

Nodding, your thumb rubs where your wedding band used to rest. "Sure does." You respond and meet his gaze.

You studied theater, moved back to London, went to the party, and kissed John. You didn't regret those choices—only one.

The invitation flies out of you as your train emerges from the tunnel.

"Do you want to meet Hamhock?"

~~

"He's…certainly orange."

"Don't rush to spend all your compliments at once," You glare, arms full of Ham, then coo at the cat. "John's jealous because he's going grey in the beard."

"I am not."

"Saw them on the Tube. Can't those from me," You tease and set the cat down, giving your kitchen a quick glance. A silver lining of work eating up your schedule is that you last cleaned two weeks ago, and it's held.

"What're those on your head then?" He gestures with a finger and toes off his shoes. 

"Details of a person ageing gracefully." You play it confidently, but part of you holds a breath.

He hums and sidesteps Hamhock. "Suits you. It's pretty."

Maybe inviting him over is a mistake. The bolt that runs through you from the compliment pokes at something you thought buried. "What a gentleman," You try to inject as much sarcasm as possible, but your voice quivers. "I'll be right back. Sit tight?"

You leave John in the kitchen to retreat to the bathroom to regroup. Come on, you scold yourself over the basin for getting worked up. It's just John. 

And yet, what remains of your confidence perches on a cliffside at the sight of John pointedly staring at the folder of your copies of the divorce papers on the counter. Fantastic.

His small smile is genuinely sympathetic. It's enraging.

"Y'know, I knew you were married…When I didn't see a ring at the hotel, though, I wondered."

Your chest tightens, and you shove the folder into a bookshelf. "Yep. Finalized the divorce two-ish weeks ago."

You're not in the mood to be reminded of your failures.

"Sorry it didn't work out," John murmurs.

"That's life. That's how it works sometimes," You exhale, then force a smile. "Want a drink? Bourbon? Wine?"

He lets you change the subject, and you let him have a glass of whiskey.

You sit on opposite ends of your short couch, Hamhock acting as a gentlemanly barrier. The conversation rekindles itself after a few fingers of liquor, and eventually, John migrates to the floor, idly playing with the cat. You confide in him about your worries about the event and whether the funds raised will be enough, and he listens. There is no condescension, no bulldozing. Not a trace of smugness at all when he makes suggestions. You don't realize how you've slipped into an old, practically ancient formation until he peers back, eyes creasing from laughter. You're fifteen again, and it is useless to deny it – you are regrettably in love with John Price.

"Can I confess something?" He suddenly asks as your cat waddles off with a catnip toy in his mouth.

Your heart lurches. "If it's a crime, I'm a terrible conspirator." 

"No. Nothin' like that, but I lied earlier." He chuckles, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "My mother didn't tell me about My Fair Lady."

"What do you mean?"

John turns sheepish. "I came an' saw it when I was on leave last summer. Thought I'd surprise you, but I got to the theater and lost my nerve."

Instantly, you pick through scraps of memories from the production. There is no way you would have known he was in attendance, not with how hellishly busy you are. 

"You, Captain John Price, lost your nerve?"

Color blooms high on his cheeks, and he turns on the floor, rubbing his neck. "I knew you're not acting but I didn't know how to mention it without soundin' like a prick." His eyes look soft. Different from how they looked that night in his parent's garden. Steady, unwavering, but soft. "I know I'm not good with words. I seem to have a talent for making you angry. But I really am happy to see you. Didn't think I'd get another chance after how I bungled it all those years ago at the train–"

At your grown ages, the angle of the kiss is inadvisable. The two of you fix it without parting, and his hands cup your face when you're finally standing toe-to-toe. 

He touches your foreheads together when breathing becomes necessary. "Change anything?"

You don't answer. You lead him to your bedroom and exile the cat.

~~

The fundraiser goes off with a predictable amount of hitches. The caterer is an hour late and forgets half the hors d'oeuvres. The bar runs out of red wine early. Two actors from the children's company slap-fight on stage. Nothing you, Naomi, and Teddy can't fix with elbow grease and stage magic. The caterers re-course. Naomi calls in a favor from her bartender girlfriend. And the children forget their quarrel when they're called upon to defeat Captain Hook.

What you are not prepared for is one of the actors calling out sick, leaving you one date short for the auction. You waste an hour trying to convince one of your fellow techies to step in.

Naomi corners you when you stress-eat a comically tiny piece of toast swiped from a tray. 

"You know, if one person is all we need…"

"Your girlfriend won't be mad?"

"Ha-ha, don't get cheeky. C'mon, isn't it time you got back out there?" 

You suppress a smug smile. Naomi has no idea. Nobody does. You've gotten back out there and then some. 

"Did I not tell you I was grossed out by the auction?"

She's relentless. "Are you really so proud you wouldn't debase yourself a little for the Bramble?"

"Absolutely not."

You'd said it with such conviction, so it's a puzzle when you find yourself waiting in the stage wing, makeup hurriedly refreshed. It takes all your courage and grace not to stumble to Teddy's side when he calls your name. He improvises an introduction on the fly, and you nearly laugh when you realize this is the first time you've been on the stage, under a spotlight, in years.

The bidding opens, and you hold your breath, letting it go when a few unfamiliar voices call out numbers. A humbling embarrassment clutches you by the throat. But then a paddle raises more confidently in the front row. The light is bright, but you know whose hand hoists it high.

~~

He collects you at the end of the night as you lock up.

"There's my prize."

You can't stop the grin that splits your face. "It's just a date, John."

"Yeah, doin' things a bit out of order, aren't we?" A glimmer of his younger, puffed-up self shines through, and his hand envelops yours.

As you walk, your elbow digs into his ribs, "What will our mothers say?"

"That a big deal to you?"

"To some people."

"Well, love, you're not 'some people'."

[andreafmn]

Truth | Embry Call

Word Count: 5.4K Paring: Embry Call x Female!Reader Requested: Yes [@come-on-darling-honey | @treatiseofselena | @pinkdragonfandream-blog] Story Description: Embry and (Y/N) getting together was inevitable, and it seemed that the universe concurred. A/N: The requests didn't have any details so I grouped them together (hope that's okay.) I've never gravitated toward Embry so at first I had no idea what or how to write this.But I hope I did him justice with this fluffy friend-to-lovers. Now, I will definitely post more about him because I fell in love with my version of him 🤭🤭 Also, I'm trying to organize myself and my writing to upload more consistently, but chronic illnesses, family, and life always get in the way. Thank you to all of you who have bear with me for so long 🤍🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Truth | Embry Call Oneshot

For the longest time, it had always been Jake, Quil, Embry, and (Y/N). The four of them had been friends since their childhood and had quickly become inseparable. If one was in sight, the probability that the other three were close behind was high. The group was simply thick as thieves. 

But there were two in particular that grew closer than the others. 

(Y/N) and Embry seemed to gravitate toward each other. Even when the four friends were together, the duo would be standing side-by-side. They understood each other in a way that Jake and Quil did not. Even without words, they could speak a language that no one else could understand. 

“You guys should just get together already,” Jacob had teased one day. “I mean, we all know it’s gonna happen sooner or later. Any day now you’ll tell us you’re a couple.”

“Oh please, Jake,” Quil laughed. “These two would be single their whole lives before they admit they like each other.” 

(Y/N) had thrown pieces of popcorn at them, chuckling dryly at their statements. “We’re just friends, guys,” she retorted. “With that logic, you and Quil should get together too.” 

“It’s just a joke, (Y/N). There’s no need to get so pissed.” 

“I’m not,” she quickly defended. “It’s just annoying that you guys bother us so much about it.” 

At that moment, Embry walked into the living room. He was quiet, as always, but vigilant. His eyes fell quickly onto (Y/N)’s. He could tell in an instant that something —more like someone— had made her feel embarrassed. 

“Guys, leave her alone already,” he quickly defended. “Can we not go one night without you guys bothering her?” 

“You don’t even know what happened!” Jake whined. “You always take her side.” 

“Well, 99% of the time you guys did actually do something to her,” Embry responded. “And I would bet everything I have that it’s not a 1% kind of occasion.” 

Quick and Jake slouched into the sofa, crossing their arms over their chests in defeat. Even though they were all similar in age, there was a sense of maturity in Embry that was unparalleled. At the end of the day, he was the voice of reason within the group. 

“There we go again. Her knight in shining armor,” Jake grumbled. “And they say they don’t have a thing for each other.” 

After the movies were done, Quil had long gone, and Jake mumbled something about going to bed, Embry offered to walk (Y/N) home. It was something he had accustomed to doing but it still made her stomach do a turn on itself. 

“So, what were those idiots talking about?” 

“The usual,” she sighed. Her hand was inches away from his. A simple stumble and she could have intertwined them. “How one day you and I will become a couple because of how well we get on.” 

“Oh,” he said coyly. 

“I know I should be used to it by now, but it can get pretty annoying, pretty fast.” 

Embry’s heart started to race as he listened to her words. He knew just how infuriating their friends could be, especially when it came to bothering people. But it only upset him because he did like her. 

At some point in time, his best friend had turned into the girl that he loved. She had become the protagonist of all of his fantasies, the reason for having a smile on his face, what he looked forward to every day. Somehow, she had become his center.  

“Why do you find it annoying?” Embry managed to croak out, suddenly finding his hands more interesting than the road ahead. “Like would it be that terrible?” 

“No,” she answered quickly. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was repulsed by him. Because all she wanted was him. 

Much like Embry, she didn’t know when that shift had happened. He was her best friend, her closest confidant, the only person that knew her better than she knew herself. But somewhere along the line, her heart would flutter at his nearness, a smile painted on her face at the mention of his name, her eyes trailed to his in every room they were in. 

“I don’t, uh. I don’t think it would be terrible,” she spoke meekly. “Do you?”

They stopped in their tracks, finally facing each other. 

“I could never find being with you terrible,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. With a surge of bravery, his hand lifted to her face, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “It would honestly be a dream come true.” 

(Y/N) gasped quietly at the sudden touch. Her breath hitched in her throat and her hand flew to grasp at his forearm. “Embry, w-what… what’re you saying?” 

“I like you, (Y/N), and I have for a long time,” he told her. His brown eyes stared intensely into hers, looking for any sign that he was losing her. “I’m not sure when it happened but one day you slipped into my head and you have not left it since. That’s why it doesn’t bother me. Because deep down I’ve always hoped that day would come.” 

“Embry, I…” She stammered searching for her words, but nothing came out. 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he said sadly. “But I had to tell you already. It’s been eating me up inside for a long time and I had to confess before it consumed me completely.”

“No, Embry, I do,” she choked on her words, feeling the knot in her throat tightening as she spoke. Even if he was saying exactly what she had wanted to hear, emotions overwhelmed her. “God, I like you too. For a while now. I just never had the courage to say anything because I didn’t want to lose your friendship. You mean a lot to me.” 

“So we’ve been tip-toeing around each other for no reason then?” Embry laughed. “Are we seriously that oblivious to feelings?” 

“It appears so,” she responded with a chuckle. “What does this mean for us, Em? Where do we go from here?” 

“Well, first, I was thinking I could kiss you,” he smiled. “Can I?”

“I would die if you didn’t.” 

His hands cradled her face softly, his thumbs caressing over the apex of her cheekbones. He nuzzled his nose against hers, teasing her lips with his. He ghosted over the pink of her skin, wishing to the gods that he wasn’t in another one of his dreams. 

When he finally gave in, his lips crashed into hers and he could swear he felt the earth around him stop. There was no gravity, no air, no cold or warmth, it was simply him and (Y/N), and that was all that existed on Earth. 

“What’re we gonna tell the guys?” (Y/N) said as soon as they parted for air. “They’ll never let us live this down. And, honestly, I don’t think I could stand their pestering once they know they were right.” 

“We don’t have to tell them,” he responded, intertwining his hand with hers comfortingly as they continued their walk to her home. “We can have this just for ourselves for the time being. It will be our little secret.” 

“As much as I would love to shout it from the rooftops,” she smiled brightly. “But I like this too. Having something that is just for us. Something they can’t ruin.” 

“That does sound great, actually.” 

“Good. Because I don’t want anyone to ruin this. Especially not those two.” 

And for a couple of months, it was perfect. To their friends, it was business as usual. They were as friendly as ever, always by each other’s side, and taking Quil and Jake’s teasing with a grain of salt. No one could have known just how true their jokes had become. 

They got around with stolen glances, hidden corners, and nights. And how they loved their nights. They would spend hours curled up in each other’s arms after Embry would sneak into her room. They would talk about nothing and everything, they would sleep, and they would kiss. 

It was an easy routine to follow and they fell into it quickly and perfectly. In the morning, they were the best of friends. At night, they were falling more and more in love. 

At least, that’s what (Y/N) had thought.

She had fallen for him. Deeply. He meant everything to her and she thought the feeling was mutual. But when the first week of the second semester of their junior year came to a start and Embry had disappeared, she knew something was wrong. 

Not only had he missed school, but he also had completely iced out Jake, Quil, and, most importantly, (Y/N). He wouldn’t answer her calls, he stopped coming over, and he was nowhere to be found. Even his mother had told her that he wasn’t acting like himself and she was very surprised at his behavior. 

What none of them knew —what she didn’t know— was that Embry was going through the most surreal of transformations. He wanted to tell his friends, he wanted to tell her everything. 

Yet, bringing them into a world where the stories the elders told around the bonfire were real was something he could not do. Even if it meant that they never talked again, he would make sure to keep them safe from the dangers they did not know were real. 

He did everything he could to avoid (Y/N) specifically. He would never say it, or even think it now, but he was scared he’d do to her what Sam had accidentally done to Emily. Love wouldn’t protect her from what he was and what he could do to her. Avoiding her hurt, but not as much as it would if he did anything to her. 

But that Friday, after he had missed a whole week of school and he’d expertly avoided his group of friends for the past four days, everything had changed. As Embry walked the halls, careful not to run into any of his three friends, his eyes caught hers. 

That’s when it happened. The moment that changed his entire world. It hadn’t been meeting his friends, it hadn’t been his first kiss with (Y/N), and it hadn’t been his first phase as a shapeshifter. It was the universe telling him that it was her, and it would always be her. 

And it scared him. 

As she tried to move through the sea of students to get to him, all he could do was run away. Though deep down he hoped it was her once he knew what imprinting was, his fears of repeating history had grown. 

“Embry!” He heard her call out. “ Embry, wait!” 

But he was already out the doors and running to the only place he could think of. His brain was going a million miles a minute and his heart was tugging at his chest, begging to be with the piece that was missing from it. 

He opened the door to the small house, hoping anyone was inside. His breathing was staggered and his chest was hammering. He was panicking and had no idea how to make it stop. 

“Woah, Embry,” Sam called out. “I’m gonna need you to calm down, okay? You’ve gotta breathe, Call. Breathe.” 

“She’s… and I didn’t… I don’t,” he tried to speak. 

“Slow down, Embry.” 

“I can’t… I can’t do this to her,” the boy managed to croak out. “Not her.” 

“Is this about you imprinting today?”

“How did you…?” 

“Mind link, Embry,” the alpha reminded him. “I know everything that happens to you. Who is she?”

Embry sighed deeply, taking a seat at the dining table. “She’s my best friend,” he said. “And these past few months she became so much more.”

“She’s your girlfriend then?” 

“Well, we never labeled it as much,” he responded. “But kind of. Yeah.”

“Then why are you so worried? This is the best-case scenario.” 

“I don’t want to put her in danger. And her knowing the truth would put her right in the middle of it.” 

“And you don’t want what happened to Emily to happen to her,” Sam said softly. Embry’s eyes went wide as he realized what the man had said, quickly struggling to find a redeeming answer. “Don’t worry, Call. I wouldn’t want that to happen to anyone, for that matter. And as scary as it is to tell her the truth, you have to. As the days go by, you will both find it harder and harder to keep away from each other. It will be physically painful to stay apart.” 

“I can’t do that to her. She deserves to be safe,” he silently sobbed. “The further away she is from me, the better it will be for her. I can’t hurt her if I’m not with her.” 

Sam couldn’t help but feel pity for the boy. He had been in that very position not too long ago, running from the people he loved, fearing the hurt he could cause them. But he also knew how he could cause just as much pain by staying away. 

“Look, Embry, I won’t tell you what you have to do,” he said. “But speaking from experience, running away does more harm than good. Whether you like it or not, she is now a part of this world and the best way to protect her is by telling her the truth. Unlike with your mom, the secret of our tribe has to be shared with our imprints. She’s gonna need to understand why it hurts so much to stay away from you.” 

“What if things go bad?” Embry asked dolefully. “What if telling her pushes her away regardless?” 

“That is just something you’ll have to leave to chance,” Sam sighed. “But if you need any backup if you choose to tell her, you know Emily and I are here and happy to help.” 

“Thanks, Sam,” the boy responded. “But I think this is something I have to do by myself. I’m gonna tell her tonight and hope for the best.” 

“Well, I’ll be doing patrol tonight. So, if at my point you need me, just call out.”

---

“Wait, you actually saw him here?” Jake asked that afternoon as the three friends left the school. “I heard he was back but I have not seen him the whole week.” 

“He was standing in the middle of the hallway this morning and I tried to get to him,” (Y/N) explained. “But he ran away and literally disappeared. What the hell is going on with him?” 

“Apparently he’s been sneaking out of his house for a while now,” Quil added, making (Y/N)’s heart wrench in her chest. “And his mom says he wasn’t home that week he skipped school.” 

“I heard he’s been hanging out with Sam Uley’s gang,” Jake whispered. “That could explain why he’s acting so weird. He got involved with some shady shit.”

“Guys, this is Embry we’re talking about,” the girl defended, holding onto any hope that he was still the boy she loved. “Do you really think he would do something like that?” 

“You keep trying to defend your little boyfriend but it’s clear he wants nothing to do with any of us,” Jake spat. 

“He’s our friend, Jake,” (Y/N) seethed. “Sorry for actually believing there might be something else happening other than he might have joined a dangerous gang and has left us for dead.” 

“(Y/N)…”

“Whatever, guys. I’ll see you on Monday.”

She left both boys dumbfounded and disappeared into her home. Once inside she crashed against her front door and allowed the tears that were stinging her eyes to flow free. 

(Y/N) couldn’t accept that she had truly lost Embry. She couldn’t admit that she had fallen for someone that could act like she meant nothing to them, that could forget every moment they spent together, that could ignore everything they had admitted to her. She had trusted him with her heart and he had decided to shatter it without another thought. 

Somehow she had made her way to her bedroom and had crashed on her bed. When her eyes fluttered open again the sun had completely set and the moon was shining brightly in the sky. In the darkness, she searched for her phone, feeling the need to apologize to Quil and Jake for snapping at them. 

Yet, her screen lit up with Embry’s caller ID, showing her that it was the fifth call in the last twenty minutes. She debated answering the phone, wanting to make him feel just like she had the last two weeks. 

But her resolution was too weak.

“What?” (Y/N) spat. 

“Come to your window.” 

She walked to her window, her gaze falling on his figure on the road. Tears were quick to form in the corners of her eyes, her emotions close to their bursting point. “What do you want, Embry?” she asked through the phone, careful to keep her voice from cracking. “It’s late.” 

“I know, but I really need to talk to you, (Y/N).”

“So, you show up after two weeks of dead silence. Your hair is all chopped up, you’ve got a tattoo, and apparently, you’ve been hanging with Sam Uley’s gang. And you just come here and tell me now you wanna talk,” she scoffed. “Give me one reason why I should give you the time of day after all that?” 

“I know I don’t deserve another chance and you have every right to turn me away right now,” he told her. “But I promise if you give me a couple of minutes I can explain everything to you. After that, you can decide what you want to do. Please, (Y/N).” 

She kept quiet for a second, knowing that she didn’t have much to think about. Her heart knew exactly what she would answer before she could say it out loud. “Fine,” she said. “You’ve got ten minutes.” 

“Alright,” he smiled. “Come down.”

She couldn’t help the eagerness that overtook her as she wrapped a jacket around her and silently slipped out the door. And once she was face to face with him, it took everything in her not to run and wrap her arms around Embry. 

“Hey,” he smiled softly at her. “Been a while.” 

“Not really in the mood for jokes, Embry,” she responded. “I came out here to hear you explain. So explain.” 

“Okay, but I’m gonna need us to move into the woods.” 

“I’m not going into the woods with you, Em. Just tell me already.”

“Look, I know this is weird but I need you to trust me, okay?” he asked giving her those puppy dog eyes that she had missed so much. The same eyes he’d give her when he begged for a kiss or when he pleaded for a couple of more minutes away from their friends. “Please.” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “But your time is down to eight minutes.” 

“Alright. Just, come on.” 

Without thinking, he took hold of her hand, leading her to the darkness of the woods, searching for a place where no passersby could accidentally see him. 

(Y/N) found herself allowing him to drag her, remembering just how comforting his warmth was. Especially on such a cold night in January, it surprised her just how high his temperature felt. 

Once they were deep enough and Embry had halted them to a stop, she forced herself to drop his hand. She didn’t want him to forget the anger that still rushed through her veins, the disappointment that had found a home in her heart, and the hurt that she felt in every inch of her body. 

“Go ahead,” she told him, crossing her arms across her chest to keep them from reaching toward him. 

“Alright, first of all, I want to apologize for disappearing like that. It wasn’t fair to you or the guys. But you need to understand that I couldn’t tell you at the beginning,” he started. “(Y/N), what I’m about to tell you is gonna sound like the biggest lie you have heard, and you might even think that I’ve lost my mind. Still, everything I say is the honest truth.”

“Em, you’re scaring me,” she responded. “What’re you talking about?” 

Embry took a deep breath, finding every ounce of strength to be able to finally tell her the truth, to wrap her in the web of the supernatural and hope he was strong enough to keep her from the dangers of it. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to think back to all the stories our parents and the elders would tell us around the bonfire,” he said. “How our Quileute ancestors were shapeshifters and how it was their job to protect our land. When we were kids we thought that those were only stories, myths to keep us children entertained. But it’s real, (Y/N). Those stories weren’t just fantasies, they are our history. 

“The reason I disappeared was because I am now one of those shapeshifters. It happened the Saturday before starting school, at the back-to-school bonfire, when that guy was hitting on you when I walked away for a second,” he continued. His eyes never left hers, hoping —begging— that she believed him. “It happened so suddenly and I thought I was dying. I could feel anger taking over my entire body, filling me with this overheating rush that burned deep inside. 

“It was Jared Cameron that found me. He pulled me into the woods and I was so angry that I couldn’t even process what was happening. He kept telling me to give in to the change to listen to my body and allow it to do what it needed to. Suddenly, my clothes were ripped to shreds and I was this huge wolf. 

“After, Sam Uley and Paul Lahote joined him and walked me through shifting back, telling me to focus on my human form. It felt like everything around me was shaking, reacting to the way my body was transforming. And somehow, at just the right moment, I changed back into my human self. 

“I spent that week learning to control my emotions so I wouldn’t trigger a phase in front of everyone, learning about our history and our role in the rez. It turns out, those guys aren’t a gang, they’re actually a pack and our job is to protect the reservation from anything, supernatural or not, that threatens our land. No one can know about our existence other than the elders and current pack members.” 

“Wait, I don’t get it,” she stammered, her head spinning with all the information she was given. “This whole talk about wolves and supernatural beings… it’s crazy, Embry! A completely convoluted way of telling me it’s over.” 

“I can show you,” he added. “Just don’t move even an inch from where you are right now.” 

“What’re you…? Embry.” 

He put some distance between them, making sure he was safely away from her. He removed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, ensuring his clothes were close enough when he phased back. He knew just how impossible everything he had said sounded. If he hadn’t phased that night, there was no way he would have believed it. 

But he needed her to believe him. 

One second he was standing before her in human form, and the next, a tall gray wolf with black spots was staring her down. She stumbled back as her eyes met the animal’s, a slight rush of fear flowing through her veins. 

Yet, she knew those brown eyes too well to be afraid for long. They were unmistakably Embry’s and they replaced her anxiety with a calming stream.  Something about him was calling to her, beckoning her to come closer. There was no danger, there was no panic, there was only calm. 

(Y/N) made her way closer to the creature, every step filling her with courage. The wolf didn’t move, his eyes simply followed her, waiting. Because he was the tactable answer to all of her questions. 

Her shaking hand raised and landed on the soft fur of the wolf’s head. As soon as she made contact, Embry nudged it, giving her the confirmation she was looking for. It was him and it was all true.

“You’re a wolf,” she softly chuckled. “You’re in front of me right now and you’re a giant wolf.” 

Embry let out a confirming growl that sounded almost like a laugh and nuzzled his nose against her. The small force knocked her back softly, siphoning from her the laugh he had missed hearing. 

“But if no one is supposed to know about you guys, why are you telling me all this?” (Y/N) asked before realizing he could not answer in his form. “Change back already. I have so many questions.” 

In the blink of an eye, Embry stood before her, scrambling to get dressed. “This is the most awkward part of phasing back,” he chuckled dryly. “It’s worse when you’re surrounded by guys you barely know.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she sympathized. “Now, why me? Why am I the only one that you’re telling this to? Jake and Quil truly believe you’ve joined a gang and left us in the dust.” 

“Well, as with most things, there is an exception to the rules. One person that is allowed to know everything, even if they’re not members of the pack,” he explained slowly. “There’s something that happens after your shift that involves that person. It’s called imprinting. I’m the most basic definition: it's a soulmate. You are unconditionally bound to this person for the rest of your life, becoming whatever it is that they need from you —a sibling, a friend, a partner. Anything. 

“Your whole world changes,” he continued, his hands taking hers. “They become your gravity, your very reason for living. Even being apart feels physically painful. Everything falls secondary to them, and all it takes is one look.”

“This morning,” she breathed. (Y/N) had felt something change when they had locked eyes in the hall. His absence had become a harrowing pit in her stomach. “But I…”

“The bond affects the imprint as well,” Embry answered before she could ask. “But nothing happens without them wanting it. You are only what the imprint wants.”

“So it’s me,” she said, trying to hold back tears, her eyes falling to where their hands were clasped. “Is that why you ran away this morning? Because you imprinted on me? Was it… did you not want it to be me?” 

“No! I mean yes! I wanted it to be you,” he rapidly scrambled for his response. “But I was afraid of what the implications of you being my imprint would be.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“First of all, I could never forgive myself if I was the reason you were ever in danger,” Embry started, his hand cradling her cheek to lift her gaze to his, wiping away the strand that had fallen. “But what I was most afraid of was that it would make you feel things that you might not have felt had it not been for this supernatural intervention.”

“I’m not following, Em.” 

“Look, (Y/N), I love you —I’m in love with you. And I have been for a long time,” he confessed. “And even though I know you like me and we spent all this time together, I was afraid that if you felt more for me it would be because of the imprint bond and not really how you would have felt without it.” 

Finally, it was her turn to comfort him. “Em, I think I’ve loved you since the moment we met,” she grinned. “I don’t need a supernatural link to tell me how I have felt about you for the majority of my life. And I understand why you had to keep all of this from us. As much as I would love for Jake and Quil to know how much of an amazing badass my boyfriend is, we know how well I can keep a secret.”

Embry’s eyes opened wide at the word, loving how it sounded coming from her lips. “Boyfriend? You called me your boyfriend!” 

“Is that not what you are?” 

“Yes. Yes! And you’re my girlfriend!” he exclaimed as he hugged her waist tightly, twirling her in a hug. “God, being without you has made this the worst two weeks of my life.”

“I can tell,” she teased. “I mean you lost my favorite thing about you. I’m really gonna miss your hair.” 

“Unless you braid the wolf’s hair, I’m afraid we’re stuck with the short hair for a while.” 

“I can work with that as long as you don’t ever disappear like that again.” 

“I promise I will never willingly do that,” he responded. “I can assure you these past two weeks have been hell.” 

“Well, we won’t have that time back. But we can make sure we don’t lose any more.”

“I like the sound of that,” he grinned.

He placed both hands on either side of (Y/N)’s face, nuzzling his nose to hers as he had done the first time they kissed. He breathed in her scent. He listened to the patter of her heart, to the sound of her breath. He took her in completely at the moment, memorizing how she looked when they told each other they loved one another. 

“Are you gonna make me wait?” she let out a strangled breath. “Or are you gonna kiss me already?” 

“You waited two weeks already,” he teased. 

“So I’ve waited long enough,” she bit back. “Now kiss me, you dork.” 

Finally, he crashed his lips onto hers and everything felt like it had fallen where it was supposed to. There had never been secrets between them, and, now, there never had to be any more. The universe had simply confirmed what they already felt. 

---

“Well, Quil, looks like you’re gonna have to pay up, my man,” Jake joked a couple of months after that fateful night. All discord between the friends had died the second the boys that were kept in the dark phases as well. “I told you these two had been together for a while.” 

“No, you owe me,” he retorted. “They got together closer to the timeline I had set.” 

“Actually,” Embry interjected, his arm draped over (Y/N)’s shoulders. “If you look at the board of bets, you’ll see that I had put down the actual date and time that we got together.” 

“But that’s not fair! When we made that bet board we had no idea you two were actually together,” Quil whined. “There’s no way that should be an admissible bet.” 

“Not knowing the facts doesn’t exempt you from it,” (Y/N) chuckled. “A bet that falls under the set rules for that pile will remain intact, even if it’s under a loophole.”

“Of course you’ll say that, (Y/N),” Jake scoffed. “He’s your boyfriend after all.” 

“Don’t forget imprintee,” she grinned. “Now, both of you, cough up those twenty bucks.” 

Later that afternoon and forty bucks richer, (Y/N) and Embry sat in the Uley’s backyard, watching the other boys playing football farther away from the bonfire Sam had started. They had curled up together under a blanket, enjoying the fact that they were together, and the world seemed to grant them a day of peace. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Embry whispered into her ear, pressing her tighter to him. “Because I do. So much.” 

“Hm,” she smiled, melting into his touch. “You’ve told me once or twice. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it. Because I love you too.”

“And I’ll never get tired of saying it.” 

“Good,” she beamed. “Because you’re stuck with me until the end.” 

“Couldn’t think of a better life than that.” 

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[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Remember how I mentioned yesterday that Hezbollah had attacked the Northern Command base? It was announced that Ali Hussein, the commander of that aerial strike on the IDF base, has been eliminated.

Hey, remember how the anti-Israel crowd kept insisting that Israel has turned Gaza into a concentration camp, before this war? The IDF has arrived at the summer home (!) of Marwan Issa, the deputy military commander of Hamas in Gaza, and I am trying to remember a single Jewish slave laborer in Dachau, who had a summer home that looks like this, inside the camp...

(screenshots from a vid in Hebrew here, discussing Marwan Issa, his home, and the way Hamas leaders built their wealth)

This is vital: UN Watch have published a report about the Telegram group of UNRWA teachers, who celebrated the massacre of Oct 7, and prided themselves that this was thanks to the education that the terrorists got...

In the US, Jewish stars have signed a letter addressed to the Academy for Motion Picture, Arts and Sciences, protesting the fact that Jews are not on the list for includion, as one of the marginalized groups that suffer from underrepresentation. I've written way before the war about Jewish representation, and how it has never been good enough. But more than that, Most people are incredibly ignorant about Jews, Judaism, Jewish identity, Jewish history, and even some very basic related facts, such as Jews being native to Israel, or that Jews aren't just white people with a less popular religion. Jews have suffered the longest streak of persecution in human history, the most extreme genocide, and yet we're not even recognized as marginalized and discriminated, which means we're discriminated against even among marginalized groups. It's unfathomable, and it has to change, if the west wants to fight antisemitism, and it has to change NOW.

Idan Amedi's condition, which I posted about in my update post yesterday, is said to have improved, he's regained consciousness, can breathe on his own, and even talked a bit to his family.

This is 62 years old Aviva Siegel.

She's one of the hostages that were released. Yesterday, she went to the Knesset (Israel's parliament), and I got to hear her testimony about the sexual abuse and torture of the young women in captivity in Gaza, which she had witnessed firsthand. Aviva recounted that one young hostage asked to go to the bathroom. When she returned, Aviva could tell something was off. The young woman confirmed to her that the terrorist molested her. Aviva went to comfort the girl, but the Hamas terrorist rapist stopped her with gun threats. "He wouldn't even let me hug her after he raped her," Aviva said. She also shared that there was another young woman who was physically tortured based on the suspicion that she was an IDF officer. Aviva's husband is still held in captivity, for 96 days now.

This is Ronen Engel, with his daughters Mika and Yuval.

On Oct 7, Ronen was murdered, his body is still held hostage in Gaza. Yuval and Mika were kidnapped together with their mother Karina, and the three were released during the hostage deal. Two days ago, during the tragedy with the explosives truck in Gaza in which many soldiers were killed and injured 2 days ago, the Engel's family adopted son, 25 years old Amit Shachar, was killed.

May Ronen and Amit's memories be a blessing.

This was just SO sweet, I had to share. Since the fighting in Gaza started, and some soldiers have been away for months at a time, when they do get to come home, people have shared vids of the reunion joy, and this has to be my personal fave so far:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[ladyloveandjustice]

The Black Dress

Another Marcille x Falin fic, but this one is the longest by far. It's post-series and references post-series material that hasn't been officially translated (the Falin and Shuro thing, if you know you know). With this, I've finished all my fic ideas for now! It was fun!

The tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Marcille shoved her books aside so she wouldn’t ruin them with tear stains. She hunched over her desk, head in her hands.

She had to pull it together. Falin was going to leave any minute. She had to be supportive. The last thing she wanted was do was hold Falin back. No matter how much it hurt, she had to let her go.

She wiped her nose noisily and took some deep breaths. It’s okay, she said she’d come back. Collect yourself. You can do this.

There was a loud knock on her bedroom door. “Marcille?” Falin called.

No! I’m not ready! But before Marcille could get the worlds out, Falin had opened the door.

Marcille bent her head, wiping at her eyes desperately, not even caring that she was staining her sleeves. “I-I just need a few minutes, I want to see you off with a smile—”

“It’s fine if you’re crying. I don’t want you to hide,” Falin said gently, closing the door behind her.

Marcille nodded, hiccuping, her eyes burning.

 Falin patted Marcille’s shoulder, then sat on her bed, looking at her quizzically. “You’ve never cared about crying in front of me before. What’s going on?”

“I just don’t want to hold you back…”

Anything I like is influenced by my brother and Marcille…” The words echoed painfully in her head.

“Falin, I’m sorry that I’ve…I’ve suffocated you. I know I’ve been so controlling. I never wanted to chain you down and I really support you going on your journey, so--!”

“What are you…?” Falin’s eyes widened. “Oh, you were eavesdropping on me and Shuro”.

“Everyone else was too!” Marcille said hastily but Falin just shook her head.

“Marcille, you don’t suffocate me. It’s just that when I admire someone, I let myself get wrapped up. I always just wanted to make the people I love happy…but that I never really took any time to figure out who I was and what I want. It’s not about you and Laios, it’s about me.”

Marcille gave her a watery smile. “You deserve it. You sacrifice so much for other people and I’m so glad you’re doing something for yourself for once. You don’t need to make me happy. You do that just by being you.”

Falin’s lips spread into a sweet smile that made Marcille want to melt.

But she couldn’t get sidetracked. She needed to say the next part.

“But I do know I’ve been overbearing, Falin. I always thought I knew best. And I--”

“Treated me like a child?”

Marcille flushed. Suddenly she couldn’t look Falin in the eye. She swiveled around in her chair so she didn’t have to face her. “I…I never thought of you as a child, Falin. Not really. I realize that now. I was just scared. I didn’t want to accept that you were going to die before me, that you were changing so fast, And most of all, I was scared of my feelings, and how they’d changed. I knew if I followed those feelings…it would hurt so much more when I lost you.”

Oh no, she was revealing way too much. She couldn't tell Falin how she felt when she was about to leave! She pressed her lips together to keep more traitorous words from escaping.

“Marcille…”

Marcille squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t tell from Falin’s voice how she felt. Was she disgusted? Horrified? Baffled? She braced herself, balling up her dress in her hands.

Then, out of nowhere, hot breath tickled her cheek.

“I know all that,” Falin whispered in her ear.

Marcille yelped, red as a tomato. She jerked away, exclaiming “Falin!”

Falin giggled. She was laughing a lot these days. She was so much more open and free lately. But what she was saying didn’t make sense.

“What do you mean, you knew?”

“Sometimes people are a mystery, but you’ve always been easy to figure out, Marcille. For me, anyway. But I didn’t want to pressure you about it. I didn’t want to make you to push me away.”

Marcille’s heart pounded in her ears. Was Falin saying what she thought she was saying? No, she couldn’t get her hopes up. Falin probably misunderstood what she meant by “feelings”

"But you seem less afraid of all that now. It was thanks to my brother and the others, right?”

“Yes,” Marcille muttered. “I can’t believe it turns out Laios is more emotionally mature than I am.”

“I could have told you that,” Falin said with a mischievous smile.

“Rub it in, why don’t you!”

“But I’m glad,” Falin said, her smile turning soft. “I’m glad my brother was braver than me. I always wanted to help you somehow, but I didn’t know how.”

“I don’t know if I would have listened to you if you’d tried,” Marcille sighed. “But now I’m trying to…accept what I can’t control. I’m working on being less possessive of you.”

“I noticed.” Falin said, the mischief back in her eyes. “I was shocked that you didn’t try to stop Shuro from confessing to me.”

“I bet 100 gold you’d turn him down,” Marcille said automatically, and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Now that’s the Marcille I know,” Falin laughed again. It was such a beautiful sound, like a bell chiming. Warmth bloomed inside Marcille. She looked down at her lap bashfully, letting her hair fall over her eyes.

But then she heard the laughter stop. When she looked up, Falin was studying her, looking gloomy.

  “What’s wrong?”

“Your hair,” Falin muttered.

What about it?” Marcille glanced at her mirror. It was pretty messy. She’d been so out of sorts she hadn’t been able to force herself to brush it much. She shrugged. “Since when you care so much about hair?” In school, Falin had let her hair get unkempt all the time, despite Marcille and the school’s lectures about how important it was for magic.

“You cared about it though. It was something you loved and it was a part of you.” Falin’s mouth tightened. Every part of you is important to me.”

“Falin…”

Falin grabbed the hairbrush from Marcille’s bedside table and patted the bed. “Come sit here.”

Marcille did, and Falin sat behind her and began to brush. She was gentle, going section by section, carefully working through each knot, never yanking. It was a world of difference from the way Falin dragged a brush through her own hair. When her whisper soft fingers brushed Marcille’s neck, Marcille’s whole body tingled.

“This reminds me of when I used to brush and play around with your hair. You always barely tolerated it, but I appreciated that you let…”

  She trailed off as Falin ran her fingers through her hair, checking that there were no knots. She hoped the back of her neck wasn’t red right now, but she knew it probably was.

She glanced back at Falin, and saw she was fishing some hair ties out of her pocket. “Face forward, please. I’m going to braid.”

“Since when do you know how to do that?” The one time Falin had braided her hair in school, it had been an absolute disaster.”

“Chilchuck taught me first. But then Kiki and Namari told me those were little kid braids. So I had Kiki teach me.” She began braiding. Marcille resisted the urge to squirm in happiness.

“That’s a lot of effort…why?”

“Because someone needs to help you. Hair is important to magic, like you said. I also taught Laios, he’ll do it while I’m gone.”

“He’s too busy for that!”

“He’ll do it while I’m gone,” Falin repeated calmly. “And if he has a meeting, one of the castle caretakers has agreed to help.”

“It’s just hair—"

“I don’t care,” Falin cut in. It was rare to hear anger in her voice, and it coming on so suddenly startled Marcille. “I hate that this was taken from you”.

They sat for a moment in silence, Marcille overwhelmed by all Falin had done for her. Falin continued braiding, crossing the strands of hair slowly and meticulously. Then…

“I wish I could have been there,” Falin muttered. “I wish I could have helped you.”

Marcille bit her lip. “There was nothing you could have done. I made my choice, and these are the consequences”.

“If I’d been there, I could have stopped you.”

Falin could be so stubborn when she wanted to be. Marcille sighed.

“Laios, Senshi and Chilchuck did stop me, though. And the reason you weren’t there was my fault. I turned you into a chimera!

“Didn’t you promise you’d stop beating yourself up about that? It was a decision you and my brother made together, right? And you saved my life.”

Marcille wanted to shake her head, but resisted. It still baffled her how easily Falin had forgiven her. Not just forgiven her—it was like what Marcille had done barely bothered her.

Falin tightened the ribbon around her hair. “There, that looks okay, right?” ‘

Marcille glanced at her bedroom. “It’s perfect.” She couldn’t really tell how good the braid was anymore, but if Falin had done it, it was perfect to her.

She didn’t want to get up again. Falin was so close to her, she could feel her body heat. So maybe they could keep arguing a little longer. “I wasn’t beating myself up, I was just stating a fact. And if that’s how it is, you need to stop regretting not being there! Neither of us can change the past.

Falin was silent for a few seconds. Then, she said, “You’re right.”

Ugh. She’d wanted Falin to fight her on that. Now there was no stalling. Falin was probably going to tell Marcille she had to get going any minute.

Instead, Falin did something unexpected. She leaned forward and embraced Marcille from behind. Her body pressed against her back. Marcille was sure she was going to die from ectasy They’d hugged so many times before this, but somehow this seemed different.

“There are some regrets I think I’ll have a hard time getting over, though,” Falin whispered. “Like not getting to see you in that black dress.”

Marcille squawked. “Who told you about that? I bet it was someone making fun of me again!”

“A little, probably,” Falin said, resting her chin on Marcille’s shoulder. “But I’m serious. I know I would have really liked seeing you in that dress. For a lot of reasons.”

“Are you…you’re not…” Marcille sputted. “What reasons?”

Falin couldn’t be saying what Marcille hoped she was saying. It would be too good to be true. But…

“Oh, I wasn’t making it clear? Sorry!” Out of the corner of her eye, Marcille could see that Falin’s entire face turning as rosy as her cheeks. “I’ll be clear. Marcille, I love you.” Falin paused for a beat. “Romantically, I mean. And I want to see you in the dress because I think you’re cute. Is…that clear? Or did I misunderstand your feelings?” A note of panic entered her voice. She loosened her arms around Marcille and pulled away

"You…you didn’t misunderstand,” Marcille said in a high-pitched squeak.

“Good!” Falin exhaled, limp with relief. “I thought I really messed up for a second there.”

Marcille’s hands were shaking, but she scooted around and clasped Falin’s hands. They met each other’s gaze and she felt like the sun was shining through Falin’s eyes, so brilliantly it hurt to look at, but at the same time couldn’t look away.

“It’s like a dream,” Marcille murmured. “This was the last thing I expected you to say today.”

“I know it’s strange timing. I just didn’t feel like I could leave before letting you know.” Falin bit her lip. “Though I guess that’s a little unfair. Maybe I should have waited until I got back.”

“No, no, no, you shouldn’t have waited, I’ve done enough waiting, I—” She couldn’t be still, the mixture of elation and shock and love was bursting out of her. She stood up, accidentally tugging on Falin’s hand and making her lurch forward. But Falin didn’t seem to mind. She leapt up too with a big smile on her face.

“But …are you sure about me?” Marcille babbled. “You might meet someone better than me while traveling. And you know, being on your own, you might realize you don’t need me, that I’ve stifled you, and seeing the world will change you and change your mind…”

Shut up! Shut up! She screamed at herself. But she couldn’t help it, her fears were pouring out her mouth in a torrent.

“Marcille,” Falin said, somehow both sweet and stern. Marcille snapped her mouth shut immediately. “I’m not going to find anyone better. That’s not possible. Yes, I’m changing a lot. I would have been so afraid to do anything like this before. I bet I’ll have all kind of experiences, see all sorts of things… but loving you, wanting to come back to you…that’s a part of me that will never change.”

Marcille threw herself in Falin’s arms. She hugged her fiercely, letting Falin’s warmth, her scent, her everything envelope her. Soft feathers tickled her face as she nuzzled into Falin’s chest.

“Do they bother you?” Falin nodded toward her feathers.

“No, they feel nice. I like them.” It felt weird to say that, when she was the one who’d forced them on her. “Do you still like them?”

“Of course! They’re so cool!” Falin’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m so strong and fast now too! It almost feels like a tiny dragon’s keeping me company. I’ll never be lonely.”

“Only you would look at it that way,” Marcille chuckled. She was so full of love for this ridiculous woman. “But I’m glad you won’t feel lonely.”

She would be lonely, though.. She’d actually considered getting over her disgust for fairies and making one for Falin to bring, that way she could check in with Marcille.

But that would be overbearing. She needed to let Falin have time to herself. She was the calm, laid back Marcille now, after all.

“I asked Shuro to leave his bells with me, would you want to take the other one with you, just in case something happens, not that you have to, but we both thought it might be safer!” She said in a rush.

So much for laid back Marcille.

  “I’m not sure how well that would work,” Falin mused. “It’s not like you could just teleport there to help me, and honestly, I think I might lose it. But I appreciate that you and Shuro care.”

“I…I get it.”

Falin hugged her tighter. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got the dragon with me, remember? And I’ll write to you all the time, I promise.

“You better,” Marcille muttered into her feathers.

They stood there in silence for a minute, Marcille wishing they could just stay like this forever. She was a little jealous of the dragon right now. Maybe she’d even be willing to become a monster, if it meant she and Falin could be a part of each other

Falin’s touch suddenly turned timid. Her eyes flicked nervously to the side.

“There’s…” Falin’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “There’s… one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Marcille cupped her hands around Falin’s cheeks. “Me too.”

Falin offered a shy smile and Marcille returned it.

And then, finally, they kissed.

It was clumsy, full of all the awkwardness of a first kiss, but it was also perfect. Years of yearning and heartache lifted as she drank Falin in. She was light as air now.

When they pulled apart, they both started laughing euphorically. Falin picked Marcille off the ground and spun her around while Marcille shrieked in joy.

Falin put her down, grinning. “I could kiss you forever.”

“Well, then, you better make sure to come back,” Marcille said, tucking a lock of Falin’s hair behind her ear.

“I will.” Falin raised Marcille’s hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Then she led her out of the bedroom by the hand.

"Laios hasn’t been waiting for us this whole time, has he?” Marcille asked.

“No, I told him I was planning to stay for lunch. I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“Famished.”

When she saw Falin coming up the path, Marcille ran out the door and hurled herself into her arms. Falin was a little different now, her smile more easy, the muscles in her arm more developed, her fangs a little more pronounced…but she was still Falin. That hadn’t changed.

They kissed deeply. Falin dipped Marcille slightly as she did, and Marcille held her tightly.

“How was your trip?” Marcille asked breathlessly when they broke away.

“It was wonderful. I saw so many incredible things,” Falin said, setting Marcille back on her feet. “Including…” She reached into one of her bags and produced a black dress. It wasn’t exactly like the one Marcille had worn back then, but it was shockingly similar. The corset stitching, the puffy long sleeves, all of it was there

“Now I’ll finally get see you in this,” Falin said cheerfully. “Do you like it?

Marcille went beet red, steam practically coming out her ears. “You little…!” She swatted Falin lightly on the arm, “I cannot believe you …Oh, it is pretty cute though…No, I’m still mad! How did you even know what it looked like?”

Falin took Marcille’s hand. “I got a lot of help.”

“I will kill Laios,” she said as they walked toward the castle. There he was, waving at them from the door, no idea about his impending death. “Will you be staying here a while?”

“Of course I will. I missed you.” Falin said. “But I’m not finished traveling. Maybe you can come with me once in a while.

“I don’t know if I can leave my position for long. Laios needs my—”

“He can handle himself for a couple weeks,” Falin said, waving back at her brother. “He’s very capable.”

“The elves might still be watching…”

“We’ll say it’s a research expedition.”

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”

“No. Falin pulled her close. “Now let’s go home.”

They walked arm in arm, ready for the future that was waiting.

---

And that's that! The previous Farcille fics I did didn't have the "real" Falin as a character, so it was nice to finally write her. She's a tricky one (her highest stat is mystery after all). She seems a lot more confident and willing to show her true feelings post-resurrection, so I leaned into that. Hopefully I did okay! And I was covering a LOT of ground in this one, so hopefully it all flowed all right.

[cloudsmateria]

leon kennedy x reader / college au

summary: you and your best friend leon had gone off to university, too busy to see each other for the longest time you'd both been away. you eventually find the time to meet up, getting drunk and acting on some building up feelings :3

warnings: start of a smut, alcohol, not proof read idk its kind of a shit ramble that i didn't put much cohesive effort into but it's quite cute so i posted it

anyway, i’ll probably do the smut in p2

words: 2.7k

It had been a month since you last saw Leon. Ever since you started law school, and he got into his cop training program both of your schedules had been stacked, despite you both still living in the same city the 45-minute commute to each other's homes was too much. As your best friend, you both managed to call each other every other night, confiding about whatever stupid experiences you both had in your new lives.

Tonight, you finally were able to agree on him coming to your apartment tonight, as you finally managed to get all work out of the way to have a fully free weekend off. You didn't realise how excited you were for his arrival until he texted you he was at the door. You sprinted through the halls and threw the door open.

"Leon!" You shout, jumping onto him and wrapping your arms around him.

"Y/n." He smiled, hugging you back.

“I haven’t seen you in way too long.” 

“We saw each other on Facetime last night.” You finally pull away with a smile. 

“You won’t even let me have a moment to be sweet.”

“It weirds me out, you're impossible to take seriously.” He rolls his eyes in response as he walks into your apartment, falling onto your couch, you sit next to him, kicking your legs up and leaning your head against his shoulder. “Did you wanna order takeout?”

“I wanted to go out. Haven’t left my apartment to explore the city since I joined the training academy. But we’ll just stay in here for a few minutes, catch me up, then we can go outside and do dumb shit.”

“Catch you up on what?” You laughed. “You’ve been my virtual therapist for the past month. Let’s talk about you. Show me what you learnt in your training or something, entertain me.”

“You’re right, you’ve talked too much, your voice gives me a headache.” You slap his chest and he lets out a light laugh, grabbing your wrists and pulling you over him to lay on his chest. “Get comfortable first, it’s long.”

“Doubt it.”

“You have it easy. This training is just as physically draining as it is mentally.”

“It shows. You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you.” You say, tracing your finger up his arm that has noticeably grown in size, and he’s already been going gym since he was 15.

He laughs. “You must've missed me bad, I’ve never seen you this nice.”

“What’s the training like?”

“I’m at the top of the class right now but the coaches are fucking evil, 4 people have already left.” He rambles on about the jarring people he’s met and the few friends that he’s made until the story is over and he gets up regretfully as he loses the weight of your body on top of him. You go into your room to change as you are still in pyjamas, getting into a skirt with a baggy sweater you wore a little too much.

“Is that my jumper?” Leon asked as you walked out. “Is it? I've had it for ages." He steps closer and snorts when he gets a closer look, flipping the back to see the label.

"You stole this from me last year."

"You mean I borrowed it indefinitely."

"I could arrest you."

"I'd like to see you try your best, trainee. It looks better on me anyway, finders keepers."

"What if I took it back off you?"

"You'd have to catch me first."

"I'm pretty fast."

"Not as fast as me." You grin before pushing him and sprinting out of your apartment, the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you.

"You think you can lose me?!" He taunted.

"I've done it before!" You shout back, running down the stairs of the apartment complex, and out into the streets, almost losing your breath from how much you were laughing. Suddenly, he sped up to an ungodly speed, picking you up when he caught up and throwing you over his shoulder. "Oh my god! What do they feed you in training?!" You yell, slapping his back.

"Mostly protein." He says, sarcastically.

"Are you gonna put me down or carry me around the city like a caveman?"

"I’ll drop you."

"Don't even joke about that." He laughs.

"Fine, fine, I won't." He puts you down and you both start walking around the city, looking for a corner store to get into.

"Let’s get wasted." You say, pointing to a small corner store.

"You’re so irresponsible." He said, going into the store and coming back out with soda and a bottle of vodka, he popped it open instantly when he came out, taking in a mouthful without wincing, passing it over to you straight after as you both walked down the street.

"I found this nice spot, it's 5 minutes from here."

"You didn't tell me about this when we were on Facetime."

"I was hoping to show you in person, I haven't told anyone else about it." You say, taking a mouthful of the burning liquid, coughing slightly, and passing it back over.

"Well, lead the way."

After a few minutes, you were standing on the roof of an abandoned, bordered car park with a pretty view of the river that ran through the city. You already had a wooden bench up there that you took as someone left it on the side of the road.

"How did you find this?" Leon asks.

"I just went on a walk one day and saw the entrance was bordered up and decided to explore, no-one ever comes up here." You said, leaning against the rails. "How much have we drank?"

"About a quarter of the bottle. Do you want more?" He asked.

"Yeah." He passes it over to you. "Do you remember the time we broke into that abandoned hospital near our high school?"

"And you freaked out when you thought that fake skeleton was real.."

"You're never gonna let that go are you?"

"We had to climb out of the window and I had to catch you before you fell to your death. Of course, I'm not going to let it go, you owe me."

"What do you want then? A drink?”

"I can pay for my own drinks and I just paid for yours." He said signalling to the bottle in your hand.

"You get to continue to enjoy my lovely company, that's all I owe you."

"Good enough." He sighed, taking a swig. The both of you sit around, both of you talking each other's ears off until he makes a suggestion.

"We should play a game."

"What's the game?"

"Truth or dare."

"Yes! I don't remember the last time we played this. Truth."

"Any crushes yet?"

"Honestly, not really. There are some cute guys in my uni but I'm just too busy with work. Truth or Dare."

"Dare."

"I dare you to finish the bottle."

"No problem." He said, finishing the bottle, and dropping it on the ground. You laughed at him, knowing he's going to be out of his mind later.

“You’ve been going to too many parties.” You say, watching in astonishment. “This is definitely some pretence for a future alcohol problem.”

“You’re gonna be the reason for my future alcoholism.”

“To be fair you are the type to become an alcoholic over a girl.”

“You’re that girl. You’re the most annoying thing in my life and I can’t get rid of you.” 

You hit his arm.

“You hit me too. Can’t get worse.” You roll your eyes with a smile.

“Seriously, you got anything going on with any girls?” You ask, feeling a bit of tension rise. He gives you a knowing grin. “Because I love gossip, don’t get any ideas.”

“Yeah, her name is Sienna. Funny girl, might ask her out soon.” You nod, questionably annoyed. “I’m joking. God. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, got something you wanna tell me?”

“The alcohol is just hitting.” You say. “Don’t get so full of yourself. You know I wouldn’t get with you if you were the last man on earth.”

“Yeah, right.” He smiles amusedly, a plan in mind. “Truth or dare, y/n?”

"Dare."

"Kiss me." Your heart stops.

"I'm not kissing you."

"You have to."

“Do I?”

“Never took you for a girl who’d pussy out on a dare.”

You sigh.

"You have some sick satisfaction out of tormenting me." You say, standing up and straddling his thighs. Fuck. You can feel the thick muscles of his shoulders as you rest your hands upon them. 

"You have no idea." You stare at him with a small frown.

"You're so lucky I'm drunk." You lean in slowly, feeling his fingers trace over your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body. You're just a few centimetres away from his lips, your lips parting, your heart thumping, his gaze dropping down to your lips. Suddenly, you hear him quietly laugh as you start to close your eyes.

"I'm not actually going to kiss you." He says.

"What?"

"You don't have to kiss me, it was a joke."

"Oh god." You sigh, faceplanting into his shoulder.

"You're so cute." He snorts, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I think you’re the one who’s gonna make me an alcoholic." You mumble. 

“Come on, let’s go back to your apartment before you jump off the railings.” He says, letting you get off.

"You're evil." You say once you get to the ground.

"And you're so gullible. How is someone supposed to not take advantage of that?"

"Now you’re showing your true colours, you’re going to regret saying that." You say as menacing as you can, before tripping up from how tipsy you were, just for him to grab the back of your sweater to keep you upright.

"Keep threatening me, I love it."

“Freaky bastard.”

“You have no idea.” He says, grabbing your hand to speed you up for you to trip again, he laughs as you manage to catch yourself. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“No thanks.”

“Too bad because I want to get back in a timely manner.” He says, wrapping his arm around the back of your knees and carrying you off. You weren’t going to complain. 

“Are you not drunk?”

“I’m drunk. I just have more spatial awareness than you.” He carries you the quick 5 minutes to your house. Managing to walk all the way up the stairs with you still in his arms, his stamina was kind of hot, or maybe those were just drunk thoughts. 

He sets you down on your couch, getting you both a glass of water to put on your side table. 

"I didn’t say this but I took some judo classes." You say, just letting whatever dumb shit stumble out your mouth as you take a sip from the glass.

"Did you now?" He says sarcastically.

"We should spar."

"You never fail to surprise me with your stupid ideas." He says while watching you get up. "Are you that confident?"

"You're scared, that's why you're trying to chicken out." He pushes himself up off the couch.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” He says, watching you hype yourself up, jumping up and down.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Come at me then.” He said, fully intending to go easy on you. You quickly try to tackle him onto the floor, wrapping your leg around him to drop him, and to his shock he falls onto his back, leaving him groaning and rubbing his back. “I didn’t think you were being serious.”

“Fuck yeah! Told you you’d regret it!” You shout, jumping up, he grabs your leg and pulls it down making you fall over him, rolling over so that you were pinned down by your wrists.

“How cute, Leon.” You smile, tucking feet underneath him onto his chest and launching off you and getting up. You usually weren’t this successful given you’d only gone to 2 classes, the drunkenness definitely provided you some much-needed confidence. He laughs breathlessly from the rollercoaster you just put him through, resting on his wrists for a second before standing up with you. 

“You wanted me to show you what I learnt in training right?” He says, as you rub your hands together mischievously. You run toward him, him holding both of your hands when you try to push him, pushing against each other as he swipes both your feet from under you and pins you to the floor, his shins pressing on your thighs to make sure you don’t pull the same trick again. Both of you are still breathing heavily from the high of the last round. 

 "You should give up now." He whispers, lacing his fingers in between your own.

"You should know better." You whisper back, smiling. His eyes drop down to your lips, his head fogged as the alcohol in his system starts to kick in more.

"What if I don't?" He leans in, brushing his lips over yours, your stomach fluttering, you were so glad you were drunk. You never would've come up with this idea if you were sober.

"What are you doing, Leon?" 

"Beating you up.”

"You're drunk."

"So are you." He replies, connecting your lips. The kiss is slow and soft. Not how you expected a drunk make-out to be. His lips part and your tongue meet his, the both of you letting out quiet sounds as the kiss gets more heated, his body weight shifting down. His arms wrap around your waist, under your jumper as he stands up with your legs wrapped around him. "We shouldn't be making out on the living room floor." He says and presses his lips against yours again. You were already a little light-headed from the alcohol, his lips trailing down your jawline, your neck, the soft breaths of his breath against your skin, it was almost dizzying. His foot pushes your bedroom door open and he places you down on the bed his lips still all over and his fingers lifting the jumper over your head. He trails his fingers over the waistband of your skirt.

"How much did you miss me?" He breathes against your lips.

"More than anything."

"How much did you miss me, Leon?"

“I was going insane." He whispers, his fingers slipping into your underwear, sliding them off and throwing them across the room. He sits up, taking his shirt off.

"Now that's just the alcohol talking."

"It's not, the time away made me realise something I should've ages ago." He said, leaning back over and kissing you. His hand trailed back down under your skirt, a finger gliding over your slit, a soft moan coming from his lips.

[writeroutoftime]

3k/5 year blog anniversary celebration!!

Oh my goodness!! I can't believe I've been on this same blog for 5 whole years now - that is absolutely crazy!! Not only that, but there are 3,000 of you lovely people who have liked at least one of my stories and decided to stick around! From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much!! 💛🥰

(and just in case anyone was wondering, this is the first story I posted on this blog - lol 🙈)

more on that below, though.

In honor of both of these milestones, I wanted to put together a little celebration I'll be hosting over the next week! Something to say thank you for everyone who has supported me with likes, reblogs, comments, and lovely asks! Here's what we've got! And don’t worry, I’ll still be working on my requests!

(oh and here is my updated list of who I write for!)

✍️ - send me a character and a prompt(s) from this list and I'll write a fluffy or angsty drabble!

🌶️ - send me a character and a prompt(s) from this list and I'll try to write a smut drabble! (first time I'm doing this - so please go easy on me! and, of course, only 18+ please)

🥳 - shout out your favorite author or fic - this can be your own or someone else's! let's celebrate our wonderful community of writers!

✨ - ask me to share a snippet of one of my WIPs. I'll either share a few sentences or my overall vision for the story.

♠️ - let's play some games! fmk, would you rather, truth or truth, etc!

I'll be running this from today, 7/25 until next week, 7/30 - so send in as many asks as you would like! Can't wait to see what there is!!

Okay, now for my sappy post below! ⬇️

Again, it's crazy to me that it's been 5 years! I mean when I started this blog, I was about to start college and now I'm graduated and trying to start my professional career! I've been on tumblr longer than 5 years lol, but this is the longest I've held onto one blog! I know I'm not the most consistent poster, so it really means a lot that so many of you have stuck with me during this time!

I post my silly little stories as a way to have fun and practice my writing skills. I never thought that this many people would be excited about what I post! And I'm not just saying this, but every time you like, reblog, and comment - I am ecstatic!! I love being able to provide a sense of joy to people with my writing!

Anyway, if you made it here - thank you! 💕✨

And of course, I just want to tag a few of the lovely mutuals I've had along the way! Thank you all for being your wonderful selves!!

@zablife, @captainsophiestark, @sansaorgana, @runnning-outof-time, @ghostofskywalker

@zepskies, @theshelbyclan, @barbiegirlbaby - and so many more!!

[djuvlipen]

There's something I've been meaning to talk about for a while now.

It's the impact of the trans rights movement on the Romani feminist and gay rights movements.

Now, most Romani rights organizations are very disconnected from the Romani masses. They really don't speak for us at all. Most of them get private fundings from the EU and billionaires like Soros (x). That's what leads a lot of Romani feminist groups to supporting the sex trade (x), despite Romani women being among the first victims of sex trafficking in Europe (x).

With the trans rights movement, we've got Romani feminist groups praising Romani men for taking the place of Romani women. Antonella Lerca Duda, a Romanian Romani transwoman, is featured on many Romani feminist posts whose aim is to present empowering Romani women (x) (x). Antonella Lerca Duda is "the first transexual Romani woman to run for mayor in Romania".

German Romani feminist organization RomaniPhen even chose to include his portrait in their post about powerful Romani women - instead of chosing to picture an actual Romani woman (x). Duda also created a "sex work" organization that fights for the decriminalization of prostitution. He's not our sister and he doesn't fight for Romani women. Yet he was even invited to co-write and star in a play from the only female-only Romani theater troup in the world, Giuvlipen, once again taking the job that could have gone to an actual Romani female playwright and to an actual Romani female actress (x).

In Spain, the trans movement is piggybacking on the back of the Romani rights movement. "Trans women" and "Gitanas" are associated in a manner much similar to what the TRA movement is doing in the US by associating "Trans people" and "Black women". Thus Spanish Senator Teresa Ruiz-Sillero recently said that ""Personas LGTBI (en particular trans), inmigrantes, personas gitanas" se considerarán "colectivos vulnerables de atención prioritaria"." ("LGBTI people (trans in particular), immigrants, romani people" will be considered "vulnerable groups to give a priority attention to") (x)

Many tweets from popular TRA Spanish accounts associate Romani women and trans women (I'm only gonna add three examples because this post is already long; you can look up "gitanas + trans" on twitter to judge by yourself):

And many Spanish Romani activists and organizations are denouncing TERFs as fascist and fighting for self-ID laws

Nevermind the fact that Romani women desperately need sex-segregated spaces considering that Romani women are particularly vulnerable to domestic violence and sexual assaults (x). Nevermind the fact that saying Romani women are not female because we're Romani is inherently racist.

But it's even worse when we think about the Romani gay rights movement. As opposed to many other gay rights movements, the Romani one is very recent. Which means we never got to build up a proper LGB Romani movement detached from "queer theory". We never got a movement only dedicated to SSA Roma, because trans and queer activists are behind all our LGBT groups. Gender rhetoric is deeply embedded in the Romani gay rights movement.

Here's a clip from the ERRC, the largest Romani rights organization in Europe, organizing a workshop on LGBTIQ Roma in the Balkan and in Spain. No lesbian or bi woman is present in this video. There's only one (straight) woman. The person with the longest speaking time is a TIM. This is particularly bad considering Romani orgs have a tendency to ignore Romani women's voices (x).

Ara Art is one of the largest Romani LGBT organization in Europe. On their website, they have interviews with trans Roma. These interviews are deeply sexist and homophobic: here's one in which a gay boy raised in a homophobic family comes out as a trans woman. This story is framed in a positive light.

Romani organizations are repeating the lie that Stonewall was started by "trans women" and are further erasing gay men and lesbians from their own history (x). They publish articles framing LGB Roma's sexuality as "sexual dissidence" (x). By supporting the trans rights movement, orgs like Ververipen, Ara Art and ERRC are supporting the sterilization of LGB Roma. All over Europe, Romani organizations hold conferences to discuss "LGBTIQ rights" (x) and are interviewing Romani TRAs (x), all in order to fight for trans rights (that last link even includes an interview with a biromantic asexual transman lmao). There's no LGB rights movement that exists outside of the gender realm for Roma.

source: Asociacion Gitanas Feministas por la Diversidad (x) and E-Romnja, one of the largest Romani feminist org in Romania (x)

Gadje newspapers are writing articles about "Queer Roma" (x). Gadje academics are writing gender theory thesis about "Queer Roma" (x).

This doesn't help LGB Roma. In my so-called progressive, Western European country, my Romani relatives used to tell me that LGBs were deviant perverts while I was growing up. My local Romani community openly calls for the lynching of LGB Roma. Most European Roma are deeply religious (muslim or christian), sometimes to the point of being fundamentalists. The vast majority of European Roma are working class and don't care about "queer theory".

Yet the associations that are supposed to be fighting for us are reinforcing the idea that LGBs are perverts and that not supporting the homophobic trans ideology makes you a fascist. Since Romani rights groups are all very recent, we never even got the chance to make our own movements before we got swipped into the gender trend.

The trans rights movement is actively harming Romani women, LGB Roma, Romani feminist and Romani gay rights movements.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I saw the Barbie movie.

One thing I did not expect was to have Feelings about what it is like to be a neurodivergent woman.

This wasn't even really addressed in the movie directly at all (aside I guess from having "weird Barbie" who lives separately from everyone else and takes in the "broken Barbies", and all of the super-positive and "uplifting" Barbies who were supportive of each other were OPENLY rejecting her because of things that were beyond her control and didn't even make her harmful to their society, just not entirely Like Them...)(okay I guess I lied, I guess they did address it and it didn't really click for me until now). (I'm still leaving that sentence in because I'm so shocked at how the point of this post is how minimized I have felt as a woman, TO THE POINT I APPEAR TO HAVE MINIMIZED THE WOMAN I CAN ENTIRELY EMPATHIZE WITH.)

Anyway. It was made EXTREMELY clear by my peers from literally day one that I was Different. I mean, I'd had one-off interactions with kids before kindergarten, but going to school was the first time I was seeing the same group of children every day.

I remember being utterly baffled. Many kids seemed to understand what to do already. Most kids were friends with someone by the end of the first day. One of my most vivid memories was from the first day almost 30 years ago, when I turned to one of the girls -- her name was Sofia, she had waist-length black hair, and her name card was a laminated piece of letter practice paper. I asked her, "How does everyone know this already?"

Her answer was that she went to preschool, and for the longest time I thought that was it. I thought that was the only reason why I didn't Get It, and never Got It from then until I graduated and from then until after I got and quit my first job and moved onto my second job (where there happens to be A LOT of neurodivergent people and I seem to get it a lot better now). It didn't occur to me that there were other kids who admittedly didn't go to preschool, who didn't have the same problem as me, and other kids who did go to preschool (because believe me, I was asking) who DID have the same problem as me (and looking back I remember at least one point where the teacher had to address the class about bullying people who were "different").

Moving from childhood into adolescence, it was made EXCEEDINGLY clear to me that I wasn't simply a Different Person, but moreso a Different Woman. It was made apparent that I was NOT an object of desire, and I did NOT deserve to think of myself as such in any way, shape, or form.

I didn't simply ignore makeup because it was expensive, and a little confusing, and somewhat of a sensory difficulty. I ignored it because I didn't think it was for me. I wasn't allowed to be one of those girls. I didn't only ignore fashion because clothes shopping was overwhelming and I couldn't spend that kind of energy in the morning putting together an outfit (not that I had a cohesive closet anyway). I ignored it because of the giggles I heard behind my back when I DID try to camouflage as A Normal Girl, because of the comments like, "Look at her wearing that belt like she thinks she's cute."

It affected me so much that I frankly didn't see myself as a "real woman" until I was in my (LATE) twenties. It's not that I didn't want to be a woman, it's that I didn't think I was allowed to feel like one. I was absolutely convinced that my husband would someday discover this "secret" about me -- that I wasn't a "real woman" -- and leave me. I literally thought he was lying to me about being attracted to me.

This did eventually change with work on my self-esteem, but one of the results is something that still persists to this day -- I feel simultaneously constrained by the societal views of women, while being almost entirely unable to relate. I went into that movie and left, today, realizing that I STILL feel like I'm Not Allowed to feel like I have some of these problems.

I've never been cat-called (though I have been screamed at by people on the street for not being desirable enough of a woman in public). But I HAVE been dismissed as an overdramatic woman by medical professionals, when my husband wouldn't get the same treatment. I've never been harassed for my number, but I HAVE had men harass and belittle me at the mechanic for saying "no" to them, who then promptly stopped the moment my husband walked into the shop and came up beside me. I've never been told I'm too pretty to be smart, but I HAVE had men refuse to talk to me and seek out my less-experienced male coworkers for answers instead.

So I drove away realizing that this dichotomy still exists for me. I couldn't relate to Barbie crying because she didn't feel pretty enough, because I've never felt like that pressure actually applied to me -- it was just always made apparent by my childhood peers that I wasn't, and didn't deserve to even worry about whether I was attractive enough. And I realized that these other pressures were the same way -- I didn't feel the pressure to be the perfect leader, because of course I couldn't be that. I didn't feel the pressure to fit in perfectly, because of course I just already couldn't.

I want to do extraordinary things, not because people expect that of me as a woman, but because people think I CAN'T as someone who is Different and Not Like Them. People are SHOCKED when I eventually adapt to a social situation (like a new job), and show that I can contribute at the same level as other people once I learn what I'm doing.

Kind of like how the Kens didn't even bother with Weird Barbie, she was just forgotten in her weird house, and she ended up being the one to help them all. And then at the end, when the Barbies realize what they've done to her, they apologize and she just sort of goes, "Eh, that's how it is."

I don't know. It's just a very weird place to be. And it can all probably be summed up by the fact that I didn't even register her experience as something I could entirely relate to, until I went to write this post about the experience that I entirely relate to.

[infiniteorangethethird]

I've been wanting to put my thoughts abt my experiences as a loveless aroapl into words for a while now, and finally I got the chance to sit down and actually write out all my ideas. Obligatory I don't speak for the entire community and these are just my personal experiences; long post ahead.

First of all, there could be many different meanings to the label loveless, depending on who is the one using it. To me, loveless means that I literally do not experience love, that I do not experience the emotions other people seem to define as love. I do experience strong emotions (though some loveless ppl might not, which is also completely valid), but I identify none of them as love.

The reason I've decided to use the loveless label for myself is because after watching people around me for a long while, I've come to the conclusion that I just simply don't feel the same way about other ppl as they do. I hear my friends talk about how much they missed me after we don't see each other for a while, about how much they wish we had more free time so that we could meet more frequently. I see my long-distance friends with whom we only get to see each other once a year desperately trying to find a time we are all free so that we could meet. I get invited to outings with friends before we even have a plan of what we want to do bc to them, the fact that we're spending time together is more important than what we're actually doing.

Thing is, I do enjoy spending time with people. There are a lot of things, activities, that are more fun (or just straight up made possible) if done with others instead of alone. I also enjoy the safety having a network of people around you can give. But at the same time, I've never really felt any pull towards specific people. I enjoy spending time with people in general, but my interest is a lot more directed at the activities we do together and the general concept of not doing it alone instead of the people involved. At the end of the day I don't care much about who those people are, so long as they are decent and aren't actively ruining the experience.

That isn't to say I'm an asshole to them, though. I know very well that friendships (and relationships in general) require a certain level of care in both directions, usually involving spending time together, and just generally being there for the other. I do want my friends to be happy, I do want to make them happy, but it's not really out of an emotional desire to make them specifically happy, rather a more general inner drive to be good to people. I will put in the effort to socialize, to spend time with people, to listen to them and be there for them emotionally bc I know that's what it takes to maintain a relationship, but it's always going to be somewhat impersonal and more I do out of duty than out of an emotional drive to get closer to them.

And yet, the fact that the general population does seem to have this emotional drive while I never felt anything like it made me feel for the longest time that there was something wrong with me. That not feeling the correct way about my friends is making me somehow evil for tricking them into thinking I was actually their friend, and not some kind of monster who was just using their kindness against them - and it's hard not to feel that way. We live in a society that assumes and constantly reinforces the idea that not only is love the purest emotion, but also the only thing a relationship can be based on. Any relationship that doesn't have love at its core is worthless or meaningless, and if you deliberately enter a relationship as a loveless person you are a bad person and the relationship is inherently toxic. It doesn't matter what you actually do, or what feelings might motivate it - if it's not out of love, it's bad.

In this framework, being loveless means no matter how hard you try, you will just never be enough. It isn't enough to be kind or generous or caring, you MUST love the other, and if they find out you don't, there's a really good chance they will take it as a personal attack and break contact with you, even if before they called you their best friend.

It was this pressure that made me pick up the loveless label. For too long have I felt like I wasn't doing enough, like I was missing something, like I wasn't trying hard enough to feel love. I kept beating myself up over not feeling the correct emotions, but unsurprisingly, this did not make me more capable of love. It just made me hate myself for the way I existed. But the moment I accepted myself as loveless? All of that pressure was gone. I learnt that emotions don't inherently make an action morally better or worse, and that at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what you feel so long as you do the right thing. People don't actually see your emotions, only your actions.

Of course, I still struggle with making and keeping friends. Turns out it is rather difficult to maintain a relationship when you don't have an innate drive towards people; then put on that extra layer of autism and low empathy and you got a recipe for disaster. Still, that doesn't mean I don't try, because I do want to be around people, and I do want those people to be happy to be around me, even if it means I have to put in the extra effort to connect with them that to most ppl comes naturally.

I know this turned out to be pretty long but I wanted to elaborate on these thoughts to give them justice as best as I could. Loveless is still a label most people either don't know or are very confused about, and I just hope I could shed some light on the experience for those who are still unfamiliar with it.

I'm open to answering (good faith) questions, but please remember that I am still just one guy and can't speak on behalf of the whole community.

(Other loveless ppl, feel free to add on your own experiences as well, I'd love to hear about them!)