#No modern writer cares about continuity

[ao3org]

Updates to AO3 "Mythology" Fandoms

Hi AO3 users! You may have noticed that recently, fandoms previously canonized as "Mythology" are being updated to "Religion & Lore". This renaming project is part of a wider ongoing process on AO3 about respectful treatment and naming of various religions, spiritual beliefs, faiths, and collections of folklores belonging to a particular religious or cultural tradition. This includes both major and minor religions, as well as reconstructionist, ancient, and modern religions.

In the coming months, the term "Mythology" is being phased out of canonical fandom names. This is because of its potential for use as a disparaging term, and the way in which it is used primarily for religions which are already under-represented. Since "mythology" has connotations of being fictional or inferior to the religious beliefs of the speaker or writer, and is unfortunately used in this way by some, the decision has been made to replace this term with something that the Wrangling Committee believes is more inclusive and less derogatory.

After extensive discussion between individuals from varying religious backgrounds and beliefs, including wranglers representing the various fandoms which were being covered, it was felt that "Religion & Lore" was an appropriate and neutral way to describe the bodies of faith, belief, knowledge, and tradition associated with many of these religions which were ancestrally imparted and regional in nature. It is also hoped that this will decrease ambiguous or confused use, allowing people to more accurately describe their works and find works in which they are interested moving forward.

The use of "Ancient" in many of these fandoms' names reflects that these countries still exist but now have different predominant religions or spiritual beliefs. For example, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore (as Greece is now a predominantly Christian country) or Ancient Egyptian Religion (as Egypt is now a predominantly Muslim country). Because "Norse" does not refer to an extant country, region, or culture, it is not necessary to specify that it is historical or ancient in nature.

The names of these fandoms will also have the native language piped, if the English-language demonym is significantly different from the native-language demonym or if there is a culturally specific term based on consultation with individuals who speak these languages as a first language. We hope to give representation to the language of the source culture by doing so.

Each of these changes has been and will continue to be carefully researched and discussed with traditional knowledge keepers and researchers from the cultures represented in the fandoms under discussion.

Many religions face the issue of texts being written long after their events occurred. Unfortunately this is something which is shared across many religious fandoms; AO3 seeks to treat these religious fandoms equally. Care has been taken in researching characters relating to these fandoms, and character tags will be canonized or made a synonym on a case-by-case basis. Fandom tags that are currently synned to the Ancient religious fandoms have been checked as thoroughly as possible to ensure that they are not referring to modern folk tales, and where possible such relatively modern folk tales are canonized as their own fandoms.

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

[creatingblackcharacters]

How to spot a Stereotype: An Example

Okay, so I talked about this in my Lesson 6 Stereotypes series, but I feel like people haven't quite... Understood what I meant. So I'm doing a mini lesson/application. First, I'd really appreciate it if you take the time to read the links in my posts, because that will provide you the historical and social context necessary. If you lack it, you will never be fully able to understand this. Remember, all I do here is provide the beginning steps. You have to be willing to do the rest!

One thing I constantly emphasize is that it's not the description of a character that (always) reveals an existing stereotype, but the writing! And again, until you grasp why anti-Black stereotypes are what they are, you will continue to be frustrated with how to avoid incorporating them, both in your writing and in your mindset. I'm going to use one stereotype as an example.

The Mammy Stereotype

"[Black woman character] is very fond, doting, and protective. She's like the team mom of the group."

On the surface, people who are worried about this stereotype will worry, because Black readers have long rolled their eyes and said we're tired of seeing this as one of the Only Options for Black women characters. And we are. Here's the disconnect: the attributes are not what we're tired of, but how they were utilized in the writing- often by non-Black writers!

Mammy: put simply, the caricature of the Mammy is the Black nursemaid that would take care of the Master's white children and the Mistress, prioritizing them above the well-being of herself, her own children, and her own community. She is fat and homely (so as not to attract the Master from the Mistress), unthreatening, sweet and subservient.

In other words, the only value she held was to serve white people's needs (and quench their guilt).

While the image of the Mammy herself is a strong imagery that has faded from its specific origin, I would say the modern day fan archetypes that ring of the Mammy stereotype are the Black woman character that "holds the Braincell", the "begrudgingly fond mother of the group", the canon love interest now relegated to the "mommy/mean lesbian" whose feelings are erased altogether, her new role to help the two white characters get together without acknowledgment of her own potential. She has no real story of her own, or as mentioned, has her own story stolen because "it doesn't look good with her in it" (which is its own bag of worms).

Now, people often give these characters motherly (or what society deems motherly) traits: caring, sweet, protective, loving, self sacrificial. Because they want to defensively show that "they're a great person! Nothing bad! I still think they're good! I'm not racist!"

But upon learning of the stereotype, there appears this insecurity- "oh, my Black woman character has these traits, is she playing into this stereotype?" When you get to this question, what you really need to be asking yourself is:

What makes the Mammy a Mammy?

They are a tool, a utility to white people with more power.

They lack autonomy. How they feel is irrelevant, if it does not serve the white person.

Nonthreatening so as to feel "harmless" to white people who bask in her "selfless" care.

They are not allowed to show frustration or upset at their lot or at life; it is seen as a negative attribute because if they are not caring, they have no use (and may now even be considered a threat).

They will also disagree with anyone else, even to the detriment of themselves, to the benefit of the white person. This is considered "selfless", rather than sacrifice (consider that "real" Mammies were originally slaves. They probably hated every single day with the people they "cared" for, but God forbid they speak on it. To white people, they were supposedly so happy and grateful! Smile and nod!)

Notice, out of the things I listed, "strong", "protective", "intelligent", and "caring" weren't there! Because those aren't bad attributes for a Black character to have! Why would we ever suggest that?? Why would I be mad that a Black woman was any of those wonderful things to her peers? That's not the issue. The issue is that they are often used in service of usually white characters and their stories. They're a tool of the writer to coddle their white characters, versus a character that has their own inner workings and existence.

Knowing what you know now; things that would make your strong, protective, and caring Black woman character fit the Mammy stereotype can include:

If she is pushed to the side with no autonomy or inner life of her own, as the narrative centers the white characters and their needs.

If she is never shown to have any reason for acting outside of to the benefit of the white characters around her. That's the only time her presence counts.

If her disagreeing with, getting upset with, or refusing (or really, just not being "motherly") the white characters is deemed trashy by the narrative (whereas anyone else receives nuance or reason for their behavior).

If the white characters in the story treat her poorly, and it is treated as a good thing that she "stays calm" without any sort of reflection on her feelings.

You can come up with any sort of setting, plot scenario, and description of your Black woman character. But at the end of the day, what's going to make it the stereotype is how the narrative treats her, which you will only find out by writing it, and then reviewing your own work!

You're going to have to approach any stereotype this way. It's part of the *intent* thing I keep pushing 😅 if you don't intend to write a stereotype, you're going to have to actively understand what it is, which will help you actively avoid it.

[ffverr]

Ok so let me add my two cents to this and say how it isn't a good reference to Ororo and Scott's dual or history.

To do that I'll also compare McKay's reference in Avengers (2024) #18, which is a just the proliferation of a fanon cliché at best, with Hickman's reference in House of X and Powers of X, which actually understands the context of the source material.

Storm and Scott's dual in issue #201 of Uncanny X-Men happens in a very specific context that both modern writers and fanon either forgot, don't know or misinterpreted it over time.

I-The necessary context:

Jean grey dies

Scott is deeply hurt by that

Over something like a dozen issues he decided to actually leave the X-Men as he doesn't feel up for it anymore.

The leadership of the team is naturally passed down to Storm that has always acted as a second in command to Scott. He often asked her opinion on plans and she often found last resort solutions when he was backed up against a corner.

On his "hiatus", Scott meets Madelyne Pryor. They fall in love, get married and Maddy is pregnant with a child as we learn when they reappear on the team in the mini: Alpha flight Vs X-Men.

Storm acts as leader of the team but goes through many changes, like losing her powers, which rattles her to her core and gives her some insecurities about her place in the X-Men and as a leader.

An Asgard adventure tells the story of Storm and the new mutants getting kidnapped by Loki.

This emergency makes the rest of the X-Men call Scott back to the team's leadership for a rescue mission.

Madelyne is brought to Westchester to wait for the return of her husband.

After the X-Men's comeback from Asgard, The trial of Magneto is happening in Paris, where they are attacked by evil Mutants. They're immediately teleported to that emergency.

Charles Xavier almost dies, but is at the last minute rescued by the Star Jammers and his love interest Lilandra in order to get emergency care.

Charles is stranded in space, and no X-Men knows if he's even alive

This hurts Cyclops enormously.

During this long absence on the X-Men, Madelyne gives birth to their child, Nathan, alone at xavier's mansion as Scott is gone fulfilling his momentary duty.

After their return, Madelyne feels like this huge absence from Scott and his half frequent comebacks to the team is making her lose him bit by bit.

So, with Charle's status as presumed dead, Scott, very paranoid and depressed, does the only thing he sees fits at the moment. Come back as leader because the team needs him without Charles around. This is Scott's pathetic attempt at regression to familiarity as Charles being dead and him becoming a father is a COMPLETELY new and very scary situation he's not sure to handle.

Becoming a leader again is a delusional idea considering he has pledged his presence and loyalty to his wife and newborn, in ALASKA, and Storm is already leader of the team.

Madelyne, with her insecurity over her husband's presence in their family, begs Storm to challenge him in a duel in order to banish the thought of leadership from Scott's head.

II- THE MISCONCEPTION ABOUT THE DUEL:

Storm didn't initiate it! She did not challenge Scott because she thinks she's a better leader than him or because she wanted to prove herself or gain the leadership for the first time.

She was ALREADY leader and completely agreed with Madelyne that Scott had to stick to his new family and responsibility as a father and husband.

Thus, she complies with Madelyne's request and beats Scott in a duel for leadership.

#201 Uncanny X-Men

He snaps out of his delusional state ( in which he couldn't even bring himself to communicate with Madelyne or be happy about the birth of his kid). He feels completely lost and dejected and comes back to his family. His relationship with Madelyne becomes distant and strained.(This plot continues in X-Factor).

Storm continues being leader of the X-Men and goes through her own hardships and journey for self determination.

So, no. Mackay's vision as this moment in time being "Storm can't go back to being under Scott's leadership because she's better than him or too cool to be a part of an X-Men team she doesn't lead" is utter bullshit.

III-Text, meta and fanon:

This fanon vision of the duel and later history between the characters just further carves the drift between storm and her friends that is already prevalent because of how many writers like to dehumanise Ororo as a character and limit her personal relationships to the X-Men to a maximum.

Her and Scott have a deep friendship built out of mutual respect and their shared grief over Jean's passing.

God loves, man kills

She doesn't believe that her and Scott "can't go back to getting orders from one another" that's just a misconception....

The truth is, neither one or the other would mind taking orders from each other considering they work insanely well as co-leaders. (As they did during their time on the team as leader and second in command from #94 to Scott leaving the team)

The Meta problem :

The issue, of course, is meta-textual, and shouldn't be baked into the text.

Storm hasn't "outgrown" being on an X-Men team or being submitted to hierarchy. This is just mixing up meta textual and text.

Yes, as a character, Storm deserves to be pushed forward as a leader. It's a spot that suits her and puts her in a very interesting head space. It would be unfortunate for FANS and for the journey of the character to keep her subordinated to other leaders.

HOWEVER this isn't a feeling she has in comics. That just makes her relationship with Scott more bitter when in actuality, there is none of that.

Not to say they both don't enjoy a little fun teasing competition as "who's the best leader?" But it isn't that deep. It's not something they actually querelle about.

McKay's reference just feeds into the misconceptions about them and it sucks because they love working together! And this vision of their relationship just puts a useless drift between them that would, in the long run, take away their interactions from us.

IV-Hickman:

Hickman's reference though is quite good! Not perfect, but it holds an overall good understanding of that spot in their relationship. (And their friendship in general)

In hoxpox Scott says "Once, I thought I was strong -- a leader of mutants. And then you showed me what strong was."

This line stays up for interpretation. But for me, it's Scott recognising that at that time, because of Jean's death and Charle's presumption of death, he wasn't in the right headspace to be a great X-Men leader. He was still dealing with a lot of codependency of Charles and jean and didn't just yet actually stand on his two feet in a way that wasn't fragile, strained and harmful for HIMSELF.

Meanwhile, Storm had lost her powers! She was going through a very very hard identity crisis. Dealing with imposter syndrome and overall depression. But that didn't completely hinder her leadership like it did Scott. She rained in her problems and handled the team the best she could.

Scott running away from his responsibilities as a father because of how complicated his bond to the team's leadership and members is, wasn't real strength. But Storm dealing with these life changing moments and still holding her ground was strength.

And that duel taught him this lesson. And that's why Hickman's reference is great. Not because Storm is an objectively better leader than Scott or whatnot, but because the two of them learned lessons about personal strength and perseverance from each other.

Storm responding with "I learned it watching you" is the cherry on the cake because she did. To a certain extent, on a tactical aspect, Scott taught her a lot about leading missions and that's undeniable.

Anyways, ted talk done.

Stan Ororo and Scott! The greatest leaders of the X-Men! Don't pit them against each other and leave their friendship feeling odd and distant for no real reasons. They'll never grow over cooperating.

[neil-gaiman]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into writing fantasy? I get stuck in my head that I'll never put out anything great like Stardust or Earthsea and that it's just not possible to ever write anything like that in the modern world, because the stories have already been told and no one cares what the next generation has to say. And while I know most writers think they're garbage and you'll always be your worst critic, I can't help but think it's impossible to create great fantasy, and even if you do, no one will ever read it because the new generation isn't Le Guin or Tolkien or you. I guess what I'm REALLY trying to ask is how do we continue fantasy as a genre with the new generations when it's so intrinsically tied to old and, in most cases, dead authors? Thanks Mr. Gaiman, and my fantasy lit professor loves you.

You take the torch, touch the magic and pass it on.

You don't try and write something big and important. You try to write something good.

Take the gift that Ursula Le Guin gave you in the Earthsea books. Write your book. Pass it on.

When I wrote Stardust I wanted to pay my own homage to writers I loved, like Hope Mirrlees, like Jack Vance, like Sylvia Townsend Warner, like James Branch Cabell, like Lord Dunsany. And I filled my fountain pen, because, I decided, the book I wanted to write tasted like a pen sort of a book, so I bought and filled the first fountain pen I'd had since my school days, and started to write. I wasn't trying to write an important book. I was trying to write a book that would keep people reading and give Charles Vess, who would be illustrating it, lots of wonderful things to draw.

One of my favourite things about Stardust and Sandman is that Susanna Clarke read them and decided that she wanted to do that, and felt the books had given her permission to write what needed to be written.

All literature, fantasy or otherwise, is a conversation with the dead and those who told their stories before we were here. They speak to us, we listen, and then we tell our own stories in response.

[madelynraemunson]

CASUAL part 2

see part one here.

modern!incel!asshole! eddie x fem!reader

It’s 7 in the morning. Eddie is seen doom-pacing in the halls of Hawkins High.

a/n: i promised y’all part 2 so here ya go. let’s make him pay. 💋 also shout out to @love-anonymous-writer for bringing this universe to life. a little angst here and there is good for the soul <3

who got the last laugh?

[WC: 1.1k words]

“Please respond…please respond…please respond…”

The soles of Eddie’s shoes slam against the tiles of Hawkins High as he rushes to your locker. Meanwhile his entire soul has left his body.

You didn’t answer any of his phone calls. All the texts he sent you were left on read. Having been so accustomed to your instant replies, Eddie essentially catapulted himself into a full-blown panic last night when he saw the ominous text you sent him...and the nothingness from you that followed soon after.

The crickets of Forrest Hills that taunted his eardrums later that night served as a vengeful metaphor of the brick wall you built between you and him. The girl who once gave him everything has now started giving him nothing. You’re nowhere, but everywhere. It’s like you’ve become a ghost.

When he sees you, color drains from Eddie’s guilty face. You look so beautiful today, hair curled down to the small of your back, a nice simple dress and some slippers, with makeup ever so gracefully applied. A class act, even when plagued with the utmost disrespect.

“Hi," he says to you as he approaches.

“Hi.”

As far as Munson knows, he no longer exists to you. He's a shadow now, a carapace of a boy you used to love 'cuz now — after hearing what you heard in his trailer — you know he's not the same boy that made you feel all the butterflies. That boy is long gone. You even start to wonder if that version of Eddie even existed.

“C-can we talk, please?” he requests.

“What’s to talk about?” you challenge him, stoically. “Don’t wanna annoy you with my rambling.”

“You never annoy me…” he attempts as you mindlessly comb through your locker for your homeroom notebook.

“Mm.”

You were casual about it. Too casual about it.

“You… uh…” he clears his throat. “You made me cookies yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I was at your door for quite a while so you must’ve been busy. Cookies were taken care of though.”

“I see…” Eddie mutters as the pieces all start coming together.

He thinks about how he always leaves his windows cracked open. His uncle would whoop his ass if he hot-boxed the trailer again, so it became a habit. But the trailer park is small, and on certain afternoon, if someone from a nearby unit had dropped a pin, Eddie would hear it. Suddenly, fear arises in him.

Surely, you didn't hear everything he and The Boys™️ said. He had his headphones on and he couldn't have possibly been that loud, could he? Unless technology failed him again.

The warning bell sounds throughout the halls and you excuse yourself from the narrative. Eddie tags after you like a lost puppy, nearly tripping on his shoelaces along the way.

"W-wait!"

The first class of the morning is homeroom. A class you unfortunately shared with Eddie, Grant, and Harmony.

You didn't want to see any of their faces. Eddie's face would serve as a reminder of how fake and construed the fucker is. Grant's would remind you of how insignificant you were to the guys (despite how welcomed they made you feel at the start). And Harmony. Harmony's beautiful face — with a body far too developed for a girl in her grade to match — would only remind you of the fact that the girl didn't inherently do anything to you... other than be beautiful and get caught in the crossfire of horny, greasy teenage boys.

It’s a fucking mess.

You swallow hard and keep your chin up regardless. Because what other choice do you have? You either feign your confidence or let irrelevant boys crush it.

You continue strutting over to your seat as Eddie trails behind at a measurable distance. Along the way, you inevitably run into the Junior Queen of Hawkins High herself, Harmony Heathers.

Harmony issues you a sweet smile. You smile back at her in return. And you didn't even need to turn your back to know that Eddie most likely did a double-take when sliding past her.

The late bell rings, indicating the start of class.

“Okay,” your homeroom teacher Mrs. Helleck exhales as she clasps her hands together. “Good morning everybody. For Red Ribbon Week this week, we’re gonna be doing a group project. Worth 20-percent of your grade.”

The class erupts in agonistic groans while Mrs. Helleck attempts to calm them down. You feel Eddie’s gaze burn into you, indicative to the fact that he was looking forward to using you again like he always seems to do. This time around it would be for a grade instead of a two-pump fuck. But you had something else in mind.

“You will be doing a presentation,” Helleck continues. “With a partner of your choice. Your job is to create a slogan along with a list of reasons why you should stay away from drugs.”

“Drugs Instead of Hugs,” Grant mutters to Eddie.

The general vicinity collectively praises his lukewarm wannabe 4-Chan edged joke.

You roll your eyes while your poor homeroom teacher tries to proceed with her instructions, despite the immature snickers.

“You will be presenting with your partner on Friday. Do not wait until last minute to do this assignment please. Deadlines catch up to you fast.”

Mrs. Helleck makes her way over to you.

Like Dungeons and Dragons, everyone in the class is assigned a “classroom role”. You’re the leader of the pack, the ‘foreman’, to which you never understood because up until today you never had the confidence to call the shots. The alphabet has never been on your side anyways.

“Now dear,” your teacher smiles down at you. “Since your last name starts with an A, you get first choice. Who would you like to work with?”

Eddie’s gaze is extra fixated on you now. It gives you a greater deal of satisfaction than tossing those cookies ever did. It was you who had the reigns now, instead of those woman-patronizing incels.

You start to smile connivingly, to which the guys start to gulp over. You can tell they’re putting two and two together, their two brain cells collectively working over time to discover that you had a delicious upper-cut up your sleeve.

It’s the very least they can do. If they wanted to taint your name to smithereens in your absence, you’re sure as hell going to give them something else to lose their minds about in Math 3.

And when all eyes are fixated on you, you tilt your chin up to project your voice. You want to make sure everyone, especially Grant and Eddie, hear you loud and clear when you sinisterly announce,

“I pick Harmony.”

tag list: @damp4eddie @eddiesguitarskills @babygirl229 @love-anonymous-writer @ziggeddie @socially-awkward-eliza @shesahellfirebabe @ali-r3n @yourdailymemedelivery @mincloud @jupitersnights @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @whisperingtales @fearlessreid @emma-munson

divider by: @benkeibear

[atomicami]

omg HIII. could you maybe like- write abt like abby and reader at school (in college obvi) and abby pulls reader into a bathroom and like makes sure it’s empty and locks the door, and things get uh.. hot and heavy?🤭

U DONT HAVE TO IF U DONT WANNA BUT THIS IDEA POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND IM A SHIT WRITER AND HAVE SHIT GRAMMER.

btw, ur awesome.

hi anon! i hope you don’t mind, i changed the setting to a college/frat party instead, but i hope you like it though! tysm for the love 🤍

all clear

abby anderson x fem!reader (college au)

- summary: it’s halloweekend, and after a lot of convincing, you reluctantly agree to be dina’s plus one to a costume party that’s being hosted at her boyfriend’s frat house. the night flies by slow for you, until an encounter with a certain classmate changes that.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, reader and abby are in college (as stem majors), reader is a little introverted, frat house setting, college partying, some alcohol consumption, bathroom hookup, kinda softdom!abby, oral & fingering (r!receiving), reader is wearing heels, and abby tells you to keep them on, nicknames instead of y/n (mostly angel), and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything else

- author’s note: happy halloween everyone! i’ve been having a bit of writer’s block with my bfm!abby fic lately, so i have to admit the timing for this request was perfect since it gave me the inspiration to write out this fic. i hope you guys like it!

“I still don’t get why you won’t come join me.”

You let out a sigh, taking your eyes off of your laptop and looking over at Dina, who was currently getting ready.

“Because, Dina, I’ve told you a million times that parties are not my thing,” you reply. “Especially if it’s in one of those awful frat houses.”

For the past week now, Dina’s been trying to get you to come to a costume party that’s being hosted at her boyfriend’s fraternity, Sigma Chi. It’s known to be one of the biggest fraternities at your university, and it’s also known for throwing the biggest parties.

The thing is, unlike Dina, you could honestly care less about college parties. What was the point of drinking and partying all night long when you’d just end up passing out and forgetting everything the next morning? You didn’t see the fun in it. If anything, you’d rather be spending a Saturday night curled up in your bed with a movie than getting blackout drunk and waking up hungover on some random person’s couch.

Dina finishes zipping up her skirt before turning around to face you. “But it’s Halloweekend…Don’t you wanna get out of here for a bit, and have some fun?” she asks. “I seriously don’t get how our dorm doesn’t give you any claustrophobia.”

You let out a chuckle and roll your eyes. “I think I’ll be fine, Dee. Besides, I need to study for my chemistry midterm next week.”

Dina lets out a groan in response. “You’re seriously going to spend this night locked up in our dorm studying?” You watch as she walks over to your bed with her black over-the-knee boots in hand and sits down next to you to put them on. “I truly love you babe, but you have got to let loose a little.”

You look over to your side as Dina goes on while she zips up her boots. “Besides…” she continues, zipping up her second boot. “There’s a possibility that a certain classmate of yours might be there…” she says with a wink as she nudges your shoulder with hers.

The ‘certain classmate’ that Dina was referring to was Abigail Anderson. She was also a STEM major just like you, but particularly majoring more towards the engineering field instead. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find her attractive, but you never found the desire to go for her simply because you felt like she was out of your league. You figured that she only saw you as nothing more than a classmate who would always sit in the back row during every lecture.

You shake your head and roll your eyes at Dina. “Just because Abby and I have the same chemistry class doesn’t mean we have actual chemistry, you know.”

“Okay, but she’ll probably still be there…maybe this party could be an opportunity for you to create some of that chemistry…” she replies back, nudging your shoulder once again.

Dina was most likely right about that. Abby didn’t seem like much of a party person either, but her best friend Manny sure was. Coincidentally, both Manny and Jesse just happened to be in the same fraternity together, which created a mutual connection between the two of you. And given that both Abby and Manny were on the market right now, chances are that she was going to be at that party too.

But as much as Dina was trying to convince you to go right now, you were trying your best to hold back.

“Well even if I did want to go…I still have a midterm to study for, so I still can’t come,” you said, pointing toward your laptop screen.

Once you turned around, you didn’t see the smirk that was growing on Dina’s face. She was so close to getting you to give in and join this party with her.

You felt the weight of your bed shift as Dina got up and walked around to where she was now standing in front of you. “You can study tomorrow,” she says, closing your laptop shut. “Come on, we’re going to the frat house.”

“But I don’t have a—”

“You can find something in my closet.” she interrupts back, pointing towards her closet. “Now start getting ready, I'm gonna go fix up my hair so we can leave.”

You watch as Dina picks up the set of bunny ears off her bed and walks to the bathroom, the sound of her clicking boots following along with her. After a moment of hesitation, you finally muster up the energy to get off of your bed and walk over to Dina’s closet to pick something out.

Your eyes meet with a crammed closet of clothes once you open the doors of her closet. As a roommate, Dina was one to keep her things organized, but when it came to her clothes, it was like an addiction. Her closet was so packed that if one more hanger were to go inside, you’re convinced that it would probably burst.

Taking a deep breath, you dive into her closet and dig around for her past party costumes, praying you’ll find a good candidate to wear for the party. You’ll have to admit that it's definitely not gonna be an easy task, given that Dina is obsessed with all things tight and revealing when it comes to going out, especially with costumes.

You fish out a few costumes from her closet and bring them over to your bed, spreading them all out to get a good look. At first glimpse of the costumes, you realize that none of these options are a good fit for you, so you try your best to pick the best option through the process of elimination:

Schoolgirl? No…

Nurse? Not really…

Cowgirl? Perhaps…

Mermaid? Absolutely not.

Eventually, you’ve narrowed your choices until there was just one option left: an angel costume.

You pick up the costume off of your bed and take a look at it. The outfit consisted of a white tie front corset top, paired with a white skirt and thigh highs, and topped off with a halo and large feathered wings. Out of all the costumes that Dina had in her collection, you figured that this one would be the most suitable for you.

The bathroom door opens, and you look up to see Dina now fully ready in her Playboy bunny costume. She smiles once she sees the costume in your hands. “That’s a perfect choice, and I even have the shoes to match with it,” she says, pointing at it. You then feel her hands on your hips, motioning you towards the bathroom. “Now go get ready! I don’t wanna miss the party!”

Yeah, this was going to be a long night for you.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸 .𖥔 ݁ ˖🕷️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

The two of you arrive at the Sigma Chi frat house, and you can already tell how packed it is just by looking at it. Music was blasting, multicolor lights flashing through the windows, and even a group of guys chugging a keg on the front lawn. The sight of it alone was already making you start to feel sick. You’re starting to wish you were back at your dorm now, studying as you were before Dina dragged you to this party. But it was too late to back out now.

You both approach the front door of the house, and Dina rings the bell. A smile soon appears on her face once she sees Jesse answering the door.

“Hey you!” she exclaims, leaning in to give her boyfriend a hug and kiss before pulling away to adjust his hat. Based on the red velvet robe, anchor chain, and captain’s hat, it's clear that Jesse was dressed up as Hugh Hefner to match up with his girlfriend.

Jesse smiles back at her before looking over to you, his eyes slightly widening in surprise. “Wow, I did not expect you to be here too,” he says to you.

Dina looks back at you before looking back at Jesse. “Believe me, you have no idea how much convincing it took me to get her to come join me,” she says to him.

Jesse simply nods in response, his eyes now on the both of you. “Well in that case, welcome to Sigma Chi,” he says, stepping towards the side to allow you two to come in. “Make yourselves at home, there are drinks and food in the kitchen, and whatever you guys do, please don’t fuck with the thermostat…the electric bills in this house are already fucking expensive as it is. But other than that, knock yourselves out.”

As soon as you enter the house, you realize that it is just as chaotic as you saw it from the outside. The night’s just getting started, and you truly have no idea when it’s gonna end.

Before you know it, 20 minutes have passed by, but to you, it feels more like a decade. You were upstairs, sitting on a couch, watching Dina and Jesse play beer pong with another couple. You’ve drank less than half of the Twisted Tea that’s in your hand, simply because you had thought at the time that it was just a regular iced tea when you picked it out of the cooler. The music and lighting were overbearing, and the corset and heels were practically suffocating your chest and feet by now. You wanted nothing more than to leave the frat house and head back to your dorm to rid yourself of this feeling.

But instead, you stand up from the couch, deciding to opt for a different drink from the kitchen downstairs. Before leaving you walk over to Dina and tap her on the shoulder to let her know. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you tell her loudly, hoping she can hear you over the music. Dina looks down at your drink and nods. “Get something stronger next time! I think Jesse has a bottle of Smirnoff in the liquor cabinet!” she shouts back at you.

You simply sigh and walk out of the room, the hard iced tea still in your hand. You look down and watch the liquid sloshing around in the small hole of the can until you bump yourself into a familiar figure.

“Shit!” you mutter quietly, almost spilling your drink. “I’m so sorry, I—“ your words get cut off as soon as you look up to see who you have just run into. “Abby?”

“Hey there,” she said with a smile, looking back down at you. “I didn’t expect to see you at this party…what brings you here?”

“Oh, I um…” you stammer, looking back into the room you had just walked out of before turning back to her. “Dina wouldn’t stop begging me to come so…I’m here.” You tell her.

Abby nodded in response, finally putting the pieces together. “Makes sense, I definitely figured you wouldn’t be a party person, not that it’s a bad thing though.” she tells you. You can’t help but notice her checking you out, her eyes trailing over the angel costume that was tightly hugging your figure. “This costume looks pretty on you,” she says, running her thumb and pointer finger through the large feathered wings that were on your back.

You try your best not to get flustered over her compliment. “Thank you, um…” you take a moment to look at what she was wearing. She had on her usual clothes, dark wash jeans, and a muscle tank, except she had on a backward snapback hat with the fraternity’s emblem printed on it. “Are you…supposed to be a Sigma Chi member?” you ask.

You hear the blonde let out a chuckle before nodding again. “Yeah, um…costumes are never really my thing, so this is really all I can come up with,” she tells you. “Besides, Manny dragged me into coming to this party anyway, so I figured I’d steal something out of it.”

You smile back at her response before letting out a chuckle as well. “Well, it suits you, Abs…” you let out a sigh before continuing. “If I’m being honest, I’m so glad I ran into you…This night has been flying by so slow for me,” you admit to her, briefly looking down at the ground.

That’s when an idea passed through Abby’s mind. However, she needed to know if you were up for it. “I can help it fly by faster, if you'd like…”

You looked back up at her, and you truly couldn’t hide the smirk that was appearing on your face. “Is that so?” you ask her. “What do you have in mind, exactly?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but instead reaches a hand out to you. “How about you come with me?” she offers, smirking back at you.

You hesitate for a moment before soon giving in, leaving your drink at the nearest surface you can find before grabbing her hand and following her. She walks you down the crowded hall before stopping at a door that was on her left, assuming that it might be a bedroom or bathroom. She opens the door with no hesitation, only to be greeted with an angry couple protesting from inside.

“Shit! Sorry!” she exclaimed, quickly closing the door again. She then turns to you and you can’t help but let out a laugh, leading her to shake her head at her poor decision to do that. “Come on, I think there’s another bathroom downstairs.

With your hand still being held by hers, you walk down the stairs with her until you get back to the first level of the frat house. You then feel her hand letting go only to snake itself around your waist, holding you close to her broad build as you both walk through the partying crowds of people. Abby soon stopped at a door that was on her right, this time knocking twice before slowly turning the doorknob to take a peek inside.

You also try to take a look inside to see if it is empty. “All clear?” you ask her.

She nods in response. “All clear.”

You then feel her hand moving over your wings down to the small of your back, motioning you to go inside first before entering herself, closing the door shut, and locking it.

The last bit of patience you had left was now gone the moment you stepped into the bathroom. Once Abby had turned around after locking the door and switching the light on, you grabbed her by her muscle tank and pulled her toward you in a kiss. As soon as the contact hits her, you can feel her lips smirking against yours in the kiss. One of her large hands rests at your waist while the other runs through your hair, causing the plastic halo on your head to fall and clatter on the ground.

You try your best not to trip on your heels as she slowly walks you backward toward the bathroom counter that was by the sink. Her hands that were on your waist and in your hair soon moved down to the back of your thighs, giving you a boost to lift you and sit you down on the counter.

Abby pulls her lips away from yours to get a good look at you, smiling as she does so. Your lips were plump from kissing her, your hair slightly messy from when she was running her hands through it, and your eyes were blown out with lust and desperation for her. “Look at you, my angel…” she murmurs, running a thumb through your lower lip line. “So beautiful for me.

Her hand trails down to the front of your corset top, fingertips landing on the silk ribbon that held it all together. “Is it okay if I untie this?” she asks, holding her eye contact with you.

You nod.

“Words, angel.”

“Please, Abby…” you whisper out to her. To Abby, that response was more than enough for her to start undressing you. The ribbon from your corset begins to loosen, and you instantly feel a wave of relief wash through you. Once the ribbon was undone, Abby then uses both of her hands to loosen the rest of it, just enough to free your tits out.

A whimper escapes from your mouth once you feel Abby’s hands on your breasts, your nipples instantly hardening from her touch alone. “God…such pretty tits…” she murmurs out to you, leaning in to quickly kiss down from your neck to your tits, her mouth latching onto one of them and gently sucking while her hand is gently squeezing the other.

More whimpers and whines escape from your mouth at the contact, followed by your thighs rubbing and clenching together. Abby was quick to notice that, removing her mouth and hands from your tits as a result. She takes off her snapback and tosses it to the ground next to your halo before getting down on her knees in front of you.

Once Abby was kneeling on the ground, that’s when you decide to remove your heels, desperate to get them off of your feet. Abby notices this as well, and catches one of your heels before it fals to the ground. “Leave them on, angel.” she tells you, slipping the heel back on your foot. “You look so fucking sexy in these.”

Normally, you’d just protest about how much they were bothering you and take them off anyway. But you simply oblige to keep them on for Abby’s sake. You were willing to go through it a little longer to stay on her good side. You wanted to be good for her. You wanted to be her angel.

Her hands are now making their way up your thighs, stopping at the bottom hem of your skirt. She then bunches the tight fabric that was hugging your hips before pushing it up, allowing more space for you to spread your legs open for her. Her eyes were now met with your clothed cunt, along with a visible patch seeping out of your white thong. She soon hooks a finger underneath the fabric and shifts it to the side, revealing your wet pussy from underneath it.

The sight of your pussy alone already had her mouth watering. Your slick was glistening under the dim, incandescent light of the bathroom and your tight hole was visibly clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“Fuck…” she groaned out quietly as she gently ran two of her fingers over the surface of your cunt, collecting a bit of your slick in the process. “Is this all for me, angel?” she asks, looking up at you.

“M-Mhm…” you whimpered back, nodding quickly. “It’s all for you, Abby, please…”

Abby averts her gaze back down to your pussy, watching as your slick trails itself down to the bathroom counter. She was soon quick to dive her head in and lick an experimental stripe up your pussy to collect your slick on her tongue, achieving the taste of you as she did so.

“My god, angel…you even taste just as heavenly as you look right now,” she mutters out quietly.

Abby wasn’t lying about that. From her perspective, you were truly a sight for sore eyes right now. Legs spread out for her, head thrown back in pleasure with the material of your costume bunched up around your waist and hips to show the parts of you she wanted to see the most, all while your wings remained steady on your back, surrounding your precious figure. You truly looked heavenly in her eyes, and the sounds you were making from her touch sounded just as angelic as you looked right now.

Without delaying any longer, Abby inserts two of her fingers into your pussy, The sudden movement startles you for a bit, before your cunt soon begins to relax around her fingers.

“Look at that, angel…she’s taking my fingers so well…” she murmurs to you, watching as your pussy greedily sucks her fingers further inside. “This pussy is already doing so good for me, baby…I bet you’ve been wanting this for a while now, haven’t you?”

You nod quickly once again. “G-God, yes, Abs…I need you so bad..” you whimper back to her biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning any louder.

Abby notices once again, and brings her free hand up to your bottom lip to free it from the grasp of your teeth. “There’s no need for that, angel…I need to hear those pretty sounds of yours.”

With her fingers still nestling inside your cunt, she brings her mouth to your throbbing clit, gently sucking on it as she slowly pumps her fingers in and out of you.

It didn’t take long for the speed of her fingers to increase. The faster her two fingers pounded into your pussy, the harder her lips would wrap around on your clit, taking away all of the space in between as she continued to suck on it.

As a result of her fast movements, the sounds your body was making in that bathroom were absolutely obscene. Between the wet squelching noises of your pussy and the moans and whimpers that were escaping from your mouth, Abby can’t help but feel so turned on from it, practically rubbing her own thighs together for some relief as she continued to devour your pussy.

Your orgasm quickly began to build itself up inside you, and based on the way your cunt was squeezing Abby’s fingers right now, she could tell you were getting close too.

“A-Abby…I-I think I’m gonna cum…” you whine out to her, both of your hands gripping onto the bathroom counter while your hips begin to involuntarily grind against her face.

“Let it out for me, angel…” she murmurs into your pussy, her movements still refusing to quit. “Take it out on me, baby…fuck my face until you finish, just like that…”

Your hips rut against your mouth a few more times, along with the involuntary movements of your pussy tightly clenching around her fingers and your clit pulsing in her mouth.

You instantly finish into her mouth and onto her fingers with a loud moan of her name, followed by your thighs trembling right after your climax. Thank God that the party’s music from outside was loud enough to keep anyone else from hearing what was going on inside.

Abby soon removed her mouth from your pussy while slowing the pace of her fingers, fucking you through it as you progessively recover from your orgasm. You hear a quiet groan escape from her mouth as she pulls her fingers out of you, watching as your cunt pushes out your thick white release and let it drip its way down to the counter. You watch her do the same movement from before, licking another stripe up your pussy to collect the rest of your release onto her tongue.

Once you were clean, Abby removes each of your legs off of her shoulders and pulls herself away from your pussy, wiping whatever that was smeared on her face with the back of her hand.

Abby then picks herself up off the floor and stands in between your legs to fix up your costume. Once you were all good, she helps you get off of the counter and back on your feet.

You reach over to pick up your halo off of the ground, Abby also doing the same with her snapback. “Thank you again for that, Abby…This definitely made my night.” you tell her, biting your lip again to hide back your smile.

The blonde smiles at you in response. “Of course, angel, its no problem…” she takes a quick breath before continuing. “You know…you can spend the night at my place, if you’d like..” she offers to you, nervously rubbing the back of her head as she does so.

You smile back at her and nod, your eyes beaming at her blue ones. “I would love that, actually.”

Abby then turns the knob and opens the door, revealing the chaotic atmosphere of the party once again. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” she tells you, keeping her hand back around your waist and by her side.

From that point forward, it was safe to say that the rest of that night was anything but slow for the both of you.

- a/n: i’m so sorry if this looks rushed, i really wanted to have this out by today! @ anon if you’re out there i hope you enjoyed it 🙏🏻

happy halloween y’all, stay safe for me tonight 🤍

tags 🏷️: @ourautumn86 @abbyscherry @whore4abby @zombholic @catfern

2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

[artist-issues]

About Greta Gerwig, Little Women, and Narnia

Greta Gerwig should not be in the Narnia realm at all. As anything.

The Narnia stories are inseparable from Christianity. Greta Gerwig is a Unitarian Universalist. This means she, in her own personal life, doesn’t believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ, which is a core belief of Christianity, and a core theme in Narnia. Everything in the Narnia books hinges on this, from the character motivations to the structure of the fantasy world to the way the magic in Narnia works.

Additionally, the women in Narnia do not adhere to post-modern or even antique feministic values. They are celebrated for their love and tender-heartedness and faith, all of which require self-sacrifice. Aravis of The Horse and His Boy starts out a proud warrior escaping an arranged marriage and ends up a humbled lady of Archenland court marrying the Prince. Susan Pevensie is at her best when she’s tender-hearted and at her worst when she doubts and becomes more concerned about her own identity than others. The school that Eustace and Jill go to in The Silver Chair is derided for it’s feministic views. By contrast, modern feminism is opposed to self-sacrifice, and that is the kind of thing Greta Gerwig demonstrates belief in throughout all of her works.

Am I saying that no person who isn’t a Christian or some type of conservative when it comes to feminism can ever work on Narnia? Absolutely not. I’m not saying that. Lots of people on the Walden Media Narnia movie (the first one), which was great, were not Christians and did not believe in the saving work of Christ. But they stayed faithful to the source material, even if they didn’t believe in the source material themselves. So the story retained it’s autonomy and power.

Greta Gerwig can’t do that. She has already demonstrated that she does not know how to make a story that hangs on to it’s integral source material if she, herself, doesn’t agree with that source material. She can’t be objective, and therefore, she can’t be faithful to what Narnia is.

How do I know that? Little Women.

I don’t care if you liked the Little Women movie by Greta Gerwig. I don’t care if the acting was “amazing” and I don’t care if Timothee Chalamet and Florence Pugh are great in it. I said exactly what I said. Greta Gerwig made a great movie—but she made a terrible adaptation of Little Women.

It was not Little Women. She made changes to Little Women. What changes, you ask? Changes to the specific pieces of the source material that did not reflect Greta Gerwig’s personal views.

That’s the cardinal sin for directors of adaptive stories or remakes—to make changes to the core themes of a classic tale, because you don’t agree with those core themes. That’s called mutilation, not “updates.”

Here’s how she did it in two major ways in Little Women:

She cut out Jo’s humble response to Friedrich’s gentle rebuke of sensation stories, and replaced it with a feministic self-pitying outburst from Joe and s borderline apathetic, cool piece of feminist advice from Friedrich. That takes all the continuity out of it and warps the characters. That scene is so pivotal in the book. It’s Jo, respecting a man who is much older and excellent in character than any other she’s ever known, and feeling immediately humbled by him calling her out. She’d never have responded that way if Laurie called her out. They would have argued. But this scene was supposed to show what Jo needed from a future romantic partner. She needed someone she respected, someone who could be wise and gentle—two things Laurie is not. She needed someone who would help her take her eyes off of worldly success and herself, and onto eternal benefits to mankind, specifically, the effect her stories might have on children. His gentle, respectful, wise love (and the love of characters like Beth) turns Jo from a self-absorbed writer into a selfless mother, like her own Marmee.

But Greta Gerwig never wanted Jo to be a selfless mother. She wanted, and I quote, “Jo’s love to be her work, and her romance with Friedrich secondary.” You know why?

Because that’s what Greta Gerwig believes in. Greta Gerwig’s life is her work. Watch any of her movies, you’ll see the smudge marks of that wholehearted belief all over them. She can’t even be objective when the whole point of a character is to make work secondary, as was certainly the case with the character of Jo March. No. She has to twist up one of the best American heroines ever into an automaton of herself.

The second way she mutilated source material is with Amy and Laurie. In the books, Amy and Laurie grow to love each other out of the character deficiencies that they make up for in one another. At the start of their courtship, Amy is ambitious and Laurie is lazy. Amy wants to marry for advantage, and Laurie wants to make much of his spurned love for Jo by giving up on life. And that’s it.

It’s Amy who first wakes up to feeling something romantic toward Laurie, not Laurie, and Laurie is not the first to make a move on her. Laurie does not know he is in love with Amy until well after she knows she loves him. Then, he does not make the first outward advance on Amy. They both come to the same conclusion together; when they do, she does not resist. In Greta Gerwig’s version, he’s back to falling in love with a girl who’s resisting, because that’s where Timothee Chalamet’s emotional acting shines or whatever.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that she adds a feminism speech from Amy, as a reason for her resistance, and she subtracts the scene where Laurie actually proposes. The scene where Laurie proposes, in the book, is so beautiful.

The two characters are in love, they know they’re in love, and neither of them is insecure about it. Amy has learned that she needs a life-partner who knows her and will protect her, like her old home-values did, and not some rich aristocrat or prince. Laurie has learned that he needs a life-partner who can stir him toward change, not through big explosive arguments and hope of conquered affection like Jo, but with gentle love and sheer inspiration, found in Amy.

So, in the most beautiful analogy for courtship that ends in marriage ever, he proposes to her while they’re rowing on a lake. She’s sitting next to him in the middle of the boat, she’s got one oar, he’s got the other, and she says, “How well we pull together, don’t we?” And he says, “so well that I wish we might always be in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” And she says “yes.”

That’s it. No argument. No big, passionate, sentimental explosion like he had with Jo. No wrenched and broken heart-strings. He didn’t have to convince her. She didn’t have to resist. Because entirely without force, and entirely without insecurity, they protected each other’s hearts and came to a conclusion that was based on something so much deeper and more eternal than fleeting passion.

Greta Gerwig cut that out and listened to Meryl Streep and put in another stormy lover’s-quarrel speech from Amy about why she couldn’t be with Laurie because she was in Jo’s shadow, and feminism and marrying for advantage, blah blah blah. It’s terrible. It’s mutilation. It ruins everything the original Little Women had.

it doesn’t matter if she got some of the characters right. It doesn’t matter if she got a lot of the quotes right. It doesn’t matter if all of Act 1 of the movie is mostly-book-accurate. If you change load-bearing themes or character motivations, you show that you can’t be objective and faithful to the source material.

It is fine if Greta Gerwig wants to make a movie about a woman who loves her work more than anything else. It is fine if she wants to make a movie about how women are under-appreciated for their minds and souls, and have characters that go on a journey to prove it. But it is not fine to use someone else’s story to say it. Make your own story, Greta Gerwig.

Oh, you already did? See: Lady Bird? See: Frances Ha? Then come up with something new. Don’t shoehorn your same beliefs into every franchise that is offered to you, like vomiting, then eating the vomit and regurgitating it over and over in new colors. Figure out how to tell someone else’s story in a faithful way, objectively, or else keep your stained hands off until you can clean them up. Especially, keep them off Narnia.

Greta Gerwig makes movies for Greta Gerwig, by Greta Gerwig. She can’t be objective, and for that, she can’t do Narnia. She can’t do it justice, she can’t do it faithfully, because she makes movies for herself, by herself.

[daenysx]

hi! i’m pretty new to your blog but i’m really loving your content! you’re a fantastic writer. if it’s okay i’d like to request something for james x reader, where r is going through a friendship breakup and james is comforting her? i completely understand if you don’t want to write this, regardless i’ll continue to enjoy your content! have a great day/night 💗

hi, angel, thank you so much for being so kind! i hope you enjoy ♡ requests are open

james potter x fem!reader, modern au

"come on." you scoff, looking at your phone and feeling sick to your stomach. james lifts his head from his laptop to see what you're doing. you put the phone on couch a bit harshly, crossing your arms defensively.

"angel?" he asks.

"yeah, jamie?"

"everything alright?" he puts his laptop on the coffee table to go by your side. you turn your head, feeling a hot teardrop roll on your cheek.

"she doesn't even care about what i say." you start. james knows exactly who you're talking about. "i'm trying to talk about how i feel and she- it's nothing to her, apparently."

"what did she say?" james asks, he rubs a generous hand on your arm.

"she just- she says she's sorry and she'll fix it, but she said all those things 2 months ago! just- you need to do something for someone if you promise them but she keeps forgetting and she never explains anything."

you're getting more upset each second. this is a person who you spent your days with before, someone close enough to share secrets. something happened two months ago, something you can't even properly remember now, and she hurt you. she never realized how distanced you've been and when you told her, she promised she'll fix it. two fucking months ago. she did nothing.

"am i doing wrong?" you ask james. "is it wrong to be angry?"

"no." he says. "it's not wrong if you feel like it. you don't wanna let go of her so easy but- i guess she doesn't try like you do."

the truth hurts so badly. you hate losing friendships, strangers turning into loved ones, losing them makes you feel like losing a part of your memories. what can you do? you're feeling too proud, too unforgiving. you don't want to be a bad person.

"i just don't know why she keeps giving up on me." you say, quietly. tears turn into hushed breaths. "am i so easily forgettable?"

"no." james takes you in his arms. "baby, of course not. it's not your fault if you believe you try hard enough to save your friendship. maybe it's not anyone's fault. sometimes things don't work out."

you put your head on james's shoulder. "i thought we were closer than this." you say, sadly. "maybe i was wrong."

james rubs your back until you relax on him. your phone is forgotten, you won't send any more texts tonight. it already hurts enough, but you gotta get through it.

"i'm sorry." he says, a quiet sound comes out of his lips as he kisses your head. "i'm sorry it's hurting, baby. you'll be okay."

maybe you should just leave this as a good relationship that is over now. there's no need to try to save something if it's already lost. you've gone through this before, you can do it again. you think your anger for the situation will make you forget about things quicker. you won't hold any grudges.

"i don't wanna be friends with someone who treats me like this." you say, sharply. "i didn't do anything to deserve it."

james kisses your hair again. "i'm not blaming her." you say, after a second. "it's not anyone's fault at this point but- i won't try anymore. she can do anything she wants, i guess."

not getting a closure hurts a bit, but you'll survive. james likes how you perceive the situation from both sides, you don't see yourself as the only person who's right, you still have respect and love for your old friend. your head stays tucked on his neck nicely, he rubs your now dried cheeks with cool fingers.

when you look at james with expectant eyes, he nods. it's good to see him agreeing with you, you know he'd tell you if you were making an irrational decision out of anger. you kiss his cheek and he carries you to his side of the couch.

you don't look at your phone again that night. james figures out you like watching sitcoms when you're upset. you fall asleep to the background sound of the office, your head on james's chest and his hand on your lower back.

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst (come on its me), feelings of sadness and betrayal, discussion of domestic abuse.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: I was stuck in a bit of a writers funk there for a moment, but I think I'm out of it which hopefully means I can start slanging dick from my requests. Also as a side note, abusive relationships are really hard to escape, and often very confusing for the victims and people around them. Anywaaaaay, enjoy! <3

Chapter 11: Scars Of The Past

Work had been something you wished would go faster, eyes cast up to the clock on your wall, watching the seconds tick by painfully slow.

You glanced intermittently at the time on your computer, or the one on the screen of your phone. The day seemed to crawl at a snails pace as you eagerly wished to get home to see him. 

Aemond had changed, for the better, and the dynamic that had grown between the two of you had, in your opinion, perhaps gone past a casual escapade.

Cregan had never spent days on end with you in your bed, nor had he cooked every single night for you. Nor had he read to you, or indulged you in your every want and wish.

This was much different to the casual dynamic that you had with Northerner, and the more you thought about it, the more you wondered what you were to Aemond. Did he feel the same way? Was he too having these thoughts today? Watching to clock slowly roll by as he waited at home for you?

Was he jogging to fill the time until you would return?

Did he feel the same pull? The same shift? The same longing for more?

It was something that you clearly needed to talk about, and something that you planned to tonight. You weren’t one to beat around the bush, and you felt that Aemond was the same. 

When the clock finally struck 5, and the work day ended, you all but raced from the office and to the train, stopping by the grocery store to buy ingredients to cook him your favourite meal, grabbing your shared favourite ice cream tub to share afterwards as a treat.

You had to force yourself to not skip home, a sweet giddiness spreading into your chest warmly as you sped walked with grocery bags in tow, work bag slung over your shoulder. Your heart raced in your chest as you thought of if he would like your meal. 

It raced even faster when you began to roll words around your mind on how to ask him what this was. It was too heated to be casual. Too chemical to be a one time thing. Too high strung for just a month of fun. And you had hopes that it would continue after Helaena came back.

Helaena.

That was another hurdle that you would eventually have to take. 

After your talk with Aemond, of course.

When you got to the door of your apartment, you had to juggle your bags to reach for your keys, placing the groceries on the floor awkwardly as you fished around in your work bag on your shoulder. 

When the tips of your fingers sought them out, pulling them from an inside pocket, a sound inside the apartment caused your ears to prick up. It was a sound that should not have been there, all things considered. 

Your heart began to race in your chest. 

But the sound persisted, low and steady.

Behind the door of your apartment, came the hum of a feminine voice.

Your brows pulled together. 

Was Helaena back early? She hadn’t told you that she was coming back yet. 

Something uncomfortable settled in your gut. 

You pushed your keys in the door and opened it slowly, careful to not make noise, picking up your groceries as quietly as you could to enter, shutting the door behind you. You placed your keys in the bowl, heart sinking into your gut.

You could hear it now, a singsongy purr from a woman and the quieter, softer timbre of Aemond.

You got to the end of the corridor and your eyes fell to the couch.

Aemond’s head flicked up to you, hair tied back away from his face in a low bun, wearing all black with his shoes on. 

It looked like he had been out for a run.

His body was tensed, shoulders rolled back and hands in fists at his sides.

Beside him, a woman you recognised.

Alys Rivers sat prim and pretty on your couch. 

In your apartment. 

Next to your-

Next to Aemond. 

She wore a green top that hugged all of her curves, breasts pushed high and forward on her chest, cleavage on show by the low cut of the top. Her waist was tiny, pulled in by high black pants, and on her feet were a pair of shiny, black stilettos. Her dark hair was brushed over her shoulder, long and straight, and her red lips pursed as she looked at you. 

Bright green eyes became narrowed, and all of a sudden you felt unwelcome in your own home. 

You watched as her lips parted and her tongue pressed into the tip of her canine before she shut her mouth, saccharine smile pulling on her painted red lips as she turned to Aemond, hand rested on his knee.

“Aemy, you didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over.” Her voice was melodic, and if you didn’t know about her character, you would say that she sounded almost sweet. 

But you knew it was a sirens song.

Your hands tightened around the bags handles, “I live here.” You grit out.

Alys turned her head back to you, and your eyes stayed on her as her thumb stroked against his knee, his fists tightening at his side, pale knuckles looking paler. But Aemond did not tell her to stop, and only looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh.” Alys responded, eyes roaming across the apartment at your furnishings slowly, far too slowly to be admiration, subtle judgement in her eyes, “It’s a lovely home. Quaint.”

Heat rose in your cheeks and you had to force yourself to move, unsticking your feet from the floor. You moved towards the kitchen, sparing Aemond a concerned look as you began putting away all your groceries.

“Thanks.” You told her stiffly, back turned, eyes narrowed at the splash back tiles of the sink.

“How do you and Aemond know each other?” She enquired from behind, and before you could turn to face her and tell her, Aemond answered for you.

“She’s Helaena’s roommate.”

Your heart sank.

Helaena’s roommate.

Not friend.

Not lover.

Not undecided whatever the hell you were. 

Helaena’s roommate.

Anger began to rise inside, followed with jealousy and hurt. A most dangerous trio.

You wrenched the freezer open, carelessly tossing the ice cream inside. 

Why was she here?

Why did he let her inside?

Why was she touching him?

You turned back to the couch standing in front of Aemond and Alys.

She stood, tall on her long legs and reached a hand out to you, red painted nails like sharp claws pointed at you, “Alys.”

“I know.” You looked at her hand, not dignifying her with your name nor pleasantries. 

She was an abuser, and with the way her face fell, the smile dropping completely, you knew the act was all fake.

Alys dropped her hand and stepped back to sit back down on the couch again, using it as an excuse to sit closer to him, thigh against his and hand back on his knee. You watched as Aemond’s eye flicked down to the hand, lips parting as he breathed shallowly.

The tip of her nail scratched against his thigh.

A false laugh fell from her lips, “Bad day at work, I’m guessing?” She smirked at you.

Your teeth ground against each other, “Work was fine. Just wasn’t expecting…” Your eyes flicked to Aemond, wishing he’d look at you, give you any indication that he needed help, but he didn’t, and when his eye met yours, there was resignation in it, “Company.” You spat.

Her pale hand lifted, tucking a strand of stray silver hair that had fallen in front of his face, behind Aemond’s ear.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t shy away.

He sat stiffly and allowed it.

“It was a spur of the moment visit.” A small giggle fell from her lips, “It’s been so long since we have seen each other, and I thought a reunion was in order. We have had a lot to catch up on.”

“Have you?” You asked, but your tone was directed to him.

Please give me a sign you need help.

Give me a sign you want her gone. 

Aemond hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your heart sank again.

“I was thinking of cooking-“

“-Oh, we’ve already eaten. Haven’t we?” Alys interrupted you, looking at Aemond with a wide smile.

Your lips parted, and it felt like she had dug her perfectly manicured claws into your chest, gut turning.

Aemond didn’t meet your gaze, eye looking anywhere but you.

“I hope he hasn’t been causing you trouble.” The woman lightly joked, hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

The urge to cry reared its ugly head inside of you.

“He’s been the perfect gentleman.” You responded quietly, feeling all hope be sucked out of you.

You didn’t know what to do.

Another laugh, the sound grating in your ears, “That doesn’t sound like you.” She purred, double meaning not lost on you. 

A blush creeped across your cheeks, and Alys narrowed her bright eyes at you once more.

Silence settled over the three of you, and you wished he would say something, or show you a sign that he wanted or needed your help, but no matter how long you stared at him, he refused to meet your gaze.

Alys cleared her throat primly, eyes sweeping across the room in mock discomfort, “I’m sorry, we haven’t spoken in some time.”

She was trying to dismiss you. 

In your own home. 

The anger was back.

Your arms crossed over your chest.

“And?” You held your ground.

This was his chance. 

His last chance of an out if he wanted it.

If he needed it.

Alys sucked her tongue, jaw shifting in annoyance as she looked at you. 

She thought this would be easy. 

“I had hopes that me and Aemond could catch up…” She looked at you pointedly, “Alone.”

“You’re in my house.” You all but sneered.

“Y/n.” Aemond’s voice finally rose from the couch, but it did nothing but serve as a warning to you.

Stand down.

One last chance.

You looked at Aemond, pleading him with your eyes, asking him if he needed an out wordlessly one last time, but he didn’t take it, nor did it look like he needed it.

Aemond nodded at you with a slow blink. 

And there it was.

Your dismissal.

Any hope that you had crashed back down to earth, shattering into a thousand different pieces as Alys smirked at you triumphantly. You set your jaw in a hard line, and turned on your foot, heading straight to your room and closing the door behind you.

Tears immediately overflowed from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks wetly. Sharp pain twisted in your chest and stomach, and a sense of shame and embarrassment curled around you. 

How stupid had you been?

Why did you feel this way?

Did he invite her here?

Did he want to get back with her?

Were you nothing to him?

The way he had dismissed you hurt. The way he had stopped you from coming to his defence had hurt. And the way she had looked at you in triumph, the way she had touched him, and the way he didn’t stop her, hurt. 

You laid in your bed, not bothering to get changed and cried into your pillow until the room grew dark, and the realm was bathed in night. You laid numbly in bed, stomach grumbling with hunger. 

You checked your phone.

10pm.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to go to the kitchen, to eat and see her again. You knew that your eyes would be red, that you would be teary and emotional, and you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Not too long after, you heard footsteps behind your door, the steady click of heels disappearing down the hall before you heard the front door open and shut softly. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat in the dark, listening and waiting to hear his footsteps disappear into his room so that you could leave yours.

You listened to the soft footfall as it came up the hall, pausing at your door.

Holding your breath, you sat up in your bed, looking under the door, the shadow of two feet blocking the light from the lounge room.

Time seemed to stretch forever and then finally-

Knock Knock.

You let out the breath you had been holding, looking at the crack beneath in the dark, mind turning a million miles an hour. 

Do you go to him? See if he was okay?

Do you respect your own need for space?

Did he need comfort?

Was he angry?

A new thought turned in your mind. More bitter than the last.

Why would he be angry? 

He’s the one who dismissed you in front of her, and all you could see was her smug smirk at you when he had done it. It had made you feel so small, so foolish, so unwanted and like a child again, sent to bed with no supper.

Knock Knock Knock.

You stared at the door. 

You didn’t know what to do. 

You didn’t know what you could do.

“Y/n. Please.” His quiet voice came from behind the door.

You blinked in the dark, feeling tears begin to gather in your eyes again. Time stretched, and you watched his feet shift his weight and shuffle.

Aemond sighed from behind the door and you watched as his feet disappeared from view of the light underneath. Your stomach clenched, and an ache spread further into your chest.

You waited until you were sure that he was gone before you crawled out of bed, stomach pulling painfully in hunger.

You pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sounds of him outside, and when you heard no sign of his footsteps or the tv, you decided to leave your room. 

You were halfway to the kitchen when you saw him, head in his hands on the couch.

He looked halfway to defeated, shoulders hunched forward as he breathed slowly. But he had heard your approach and you watched as all vulnerability bled out of him and he straightened, lifting his eye to look at you.

You locked in a stare, unsure of what to do as you looked at him, hoping he would speak first, hoping he would make the first move, because you didn’t know how to in that moment. 

Didn’t know how to move forward or talk about what had just happened. 

It didn’t help that you felt used. 

And hurt.

And cast aside.

And you knew it was more complicated than that, but there was just something about the way he had dismissed you in front of a woman who had done so much damage to him. Dismissed you as though you were nothing. Called you his sisters roommate and not even his friend. Acquaintance. Someone he had spent over a month getting to know. Someone he had spent over a week sleeping in their bed, cock or tongue between thighs. Gentle whispers in the morning, soft smiles in the evening. 

It made you feel like nothing.

It was clear that Aemond wasn’t going to say anything as you waited another pregnant pause, so you tore your eyes away from him and continued into the kitchen to make yourself some two minute noodles, meal that had been planned for the both of your forgotten.

You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, heated. It made your skin ripple in discomfort. 

Filling a pot with water, you set it on the stove to boil, moving as quickly as you could to pull down a bowl and grab the noodle packet from the cupboard, tearing the sachet open and dumping the flavouring into the bowl.

You felt his presence behind you before you heard him speak.

“Are you okay?” He questioned you, and you fought to not scoff. 

Why was he asking you that? 

“Are you?” You replied back, turning to face him against the bench, waiting for the water to boil.

“I’m fine.” He said flatly, and you raised a singular brow at him in question.

Aemond’s face remained stoic.

“Why was she here, Aemond? If I had known-“

“-Why does it matter?”

You blanched.

Why did it matter?

Why did it matter?

“What do you mean why does it matter? She abused you, Aemond! I was worried about you.”

His brows pulled into a frown, “She didn’t abuse me. We just fought a lot.”

Denial.

“Aemond,” You said, voice softer this time, “It was abuse.”

Anger rippled across his face, “I wish you would just drop it. I shouldn’t have even told you.”

You stepped back in shock, hip bumping into a drawer handle sharply.

“I won’t just drop it. I’m worried about you.”

Aemond sighed through his nose, “I don’t need you to look after me.”

The water began to boil, and so did your patience, “I’m not saying you need me to. I care about you, Aemond. And so naturally it was a shock to come home and find her in the apartment after what you had told me- what- not even two weeks past?”

“She’s my ex, what did you want me to do?” He asked you incredulously, and you turned to dump the noodles in the water, watching them be swallowed down into the bubbles.

“I just don’t understand why you would bring her here in the first place without even telling me.” You looked up into his eye, and you could tell he was noting the way your own were red and puffy from crying. 

His lips pursed and then flattened, “I’ll make sure to tell you before next time.”

“Next time?” You had to force yourself to not yell, feeling anger and sadness swirl around in your gut like a whirlpool, dragging you under.

“I didn’t- She just rocked up.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, but how did she know where you were, Aemond?”

The man stayed quiet, and there was something about it that made you step back away from him.

“Are you getting back with her?” You asked, voice quiet and weak, praying that you didn’t sound as pathetic as you thought you did to your own ears.

Silence again. 

You blinked, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes again.

“After everything we- After- I thought-”

“-You thought what?” His voice was cool and even, void of any emotion, as though he had put himself behind a very thick door, lock and key.

“Are you getting back with her?” You asked again, voice uneven, cracking at the end heavily with emotion, thick lump stuck in your throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you swallowed.

Again, silence, though something flickered behind Aemond’s eye, and you watched as his brow pulled froward.

Your heart raced in your chest, “Okay. So what was this then? Was this nothing?”

Aemond’s lips opened and then shut, once, twice, three times before a large sigh came from his lips, “I don’t know.”

Pain ravaged you sharply, tugging at your chest as you looked up at the man. You moved to the pot, straining the water out, turning your face away from him as you blinked away tears. 

“You don’t know?”

His gaze was hot on the side of your face as you plopped the noodles into your bowl, turning to face him again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. The only thing keeping you together, the process and mechanical way you made your dinner.

“I don’t know anything right now.” Aemond’s voice was low, “My heads a mess. Seeing Alys-”

Oh.

A terrible realisation dawned on you.

He still loves her.

A lone tear fell down your cheek, and you watched as Aemond’s hand twitched at his side, arm beginning to lift towards you. 

You shook your head angrily, stepping away, swiping up the bowl of hot noodles, “I need to think.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You didn’t wait, and stormed away to your room, kicking the door shut behind you as you sat down, noodles forgotten beside the bed, sobs wracking your body as you cried. 

He still loved her. 

He still loved her, and you had been a fool to think that what you shared was anything else than casual to him.

At times you could have sworn his gazes lingered moments too long to be anything casual, but you guess you were wrong. 

Wrong about it all.

An idiot.

But some of the grief that you felt was for him. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see how bad she was for him. Couldn’t see how he didn’t deserve it. He was trapped, and there was nothing you could do to make him see. 

People will only accept help if they allow it. And you could not force help on him. It was something he had to come to terms with on his own.

What was more, the guilt inside of you had been steadily eating at your resolve, gnawing away at you as you betrayed your best friend by sleeping with her brother. 

But not only that, you think you were falling for him.

You reached for your phone, calling the only person you knew who would listen to you.

“Hey scuttle bug!” Helaena’s voice chirped sleepily from the other end, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.” She joked, and a sad sob passed through your lips at the sound of it. 

She was going to hate you.

She was never going to talk to you again.

And you deserved it.

“Hey,” She cooed into the phone, voice suddenly alert and filled with concern, “What’s wrong?”

You sucked in another sob, chest aching and stomach feeling wrought with anxiety, “You're going to hate me.” You cried, hiccup stuttering your uneven breath, “You’re going to hate me so much, Hel. I’ve ruined everything.”

You heard shuffling in the background, as though Helaena had sat herself up in bed, “What?” She listened to another broken sob come from your chest, “Y/n take some deep breaths, okay?” 

You did as she said. 

“What’s happened?”

This was it. 

It was now or never.

No going back now.

And once the words would leave your lips, you would be banished from her life forever. 

You were about to lose two people you held dearly to you.

You swiped tears away from your face in agitation, angry with yourself for what you had done, “I slept with Aemond.”

Silence on the other end.

Your heart broke.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Hel. I’m a terrible friend. I know I fucked up, I just don’t know what to do. I'm sorry. I know you hate me, I-“

“-Hey, hey, hey, slow down, bug. I don’t hate you.”

Your nails dug into your palm as you apologised again and again, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. 

Helaena tried to calm you on the other end, asking what happened, and so you told her everything, from start to finish, all the way up until your encounter not too long ago, bar the personal things about Alys that Aemond told you. That was his story to tell.

“I know what I’ve done is wrong, and you’ll never forgive me-“

“Y/n,” Helaena cooed on the other end of the phone, “I don’t hate you at all. Disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner, yeah,” You winced, another tear falling from your cheek, “But I had a feeling it would happen.”

You sniffled, “What?”

Helaena laughed on the other end softly, not at you, but in a knowing way that she always had, “I mean, I always assumed it would. You’re both so similar. You’d be perfect if he wasn’t such an asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole.” You immediately defended him, cringing at your own voice.

Helaena hummed in a way that Aemond usually did, and it made your heart clench. 

You heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, followed by some muffled whispering.

“Where are you right now?” Helaena asked softly, mumbling to someone again.

Confused you responded, “In my room?” 

You thought it would be obvious where you were.

“Daeron’s just organised a ride and a plane for you to come to the Keep.”

You blanched, surprised, “Hel, I can’t. I have work.”

“Fuck work.” She exclaimed on the other side, “My best friend needs me, and I need her. Besides, can’t cancel it now, the drivers on his way.”

“What?” You were breathless, panic rising inside of you.

You heard Helaena yawn on the other end, “Better pack your bag quickly, should be there in like twenty if we’re lucky. I’ll tell mum to tell Larys you need time off. He won’t and can’t say no to her.”

“Hel-“

“No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’. You’re coming.”

You smiled sadly, grateful that she was such a good friend but feeling like a burden. She was going to fly you to her, whilst her dad was sick, and because what? You had fucked her brother, developed feelings for him, and he had all but rejected you?

But Helaena knew you too well.

“You’re not a burden, and you need some space right now. Aemond does too, and he won’t come here. He needs some time alone to think of what he wants and process seeing Alys.”

You bit your lip and chewed on it softly, “Okay.” You paused not sure what to do, “Thank you, I know I don’t-“

“-Shush. You already had an invitation to come here anyway, so no time like the present. You can atone for your sins by giving me a hug when you get here and telling me the longer story of what has happened. Not to mention get Aegon out of my hair. He’s been such a pest.”

You chuckled softly. You didn’t know what you would do without her, you felt relieved that she wasn’t going to cast you out of her life, though the guilt still lingered, multiplying tenfold by her generosity.

Helaena stayed on the phone with you the entire time as you packed, telling you what to bring and what not to bring. By the time your bag was full and you were ready to go, the driver was downstairs. 

You opened your bedroom door, darkness shrouding the apartment.

Your eyes immediately flicked to Aemond’s. 

It was closed.

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[autism-alley]

hi originally posted this at the end of a long thread of back and forth, here’s the og post if you want full context but i feel like this needs to be its own post especially bc i keep seeing this argument being made—the argument that the kids (in this case it was annabeth) SHOULD just know the monsters are monsters and who they are and how to defeat them before ever encountering them, that it’s a problem if they don’t.

the problem is not if 12 year olds should recognize a trap when they see one, even if they’re smart 12 year olds, and if that’s realistic. that is entirely beside the point.

the problem is rick riordan wrote a book series whose formula is bringing myths to the modern age and he’s not sticking true to that in the show—percy jackson and the olympians’ Shtick is taking these classic, ancient threats and giving them a new face. these traps work because these kids are not walking into a cave marked with Get Out and getting ambushed by monsters—the monsters are disguised as harmless mortal human beings, in harmless mortal human being places (for the most part) and i think we—and more importantly, the show—are all forgetting the mist, the magic involved here. it’s not just that medusa is a “creepy lady with her eyes covered” it’s that there is ancient magic at work here, magic that, like the systems of abuse pjo exists to criticize, has been evolving and continuing its malevolence for millennia. it’s formulaic, that’s the point. it’s the same trap you’ve learned about all your childhood, the same trap a thousand children before you learned all their childhoods, and still, it works. you fall into the trap. because that’s how generational abuse works. it’s a trap. it isn’t enough to learn monsters exist, what they look like from a second hand story that originated thousands of years ago. if you want to escape alive, you have to adapt as quickly as they do, recognize their face, and ultimately, beyond any individual trap, the game itself has to change. real, generational change.

so. the problem is rick riordan wrote a series with a formula for action that perfectly captures the overarching, systemic conflicts he was commentating on, and then threw that formula out in the show because it was “unrealistic”. i don’t give a damn about realism when it works to the detriment of the story. this is a story about generational abuse, yes, but it’s told through ‘a tale as old as time’ and that’s why it works so fucking well. and when it comes to basic storytelling, if your characters know the threat before they even walk in and you do practically nothing to then make up for the stakes you have removed, that’s a flaw. now you’ve lost the entertainment value for your audience, on top of also lessening your themes.

something else that is so. honestly soul-crushing as a writer and a creative, is that to me this is reflective of the way we are now afraid to tell earnest stories. stories where we care not for listening to the people who want to pick apart fictional, mythical, fantasy stories for not being “realistic” instead of aligning with our target audience who acknowledges reality is not what makes a story. think of your favorite movie, show, book, comic, what have you—has the reason for your favoritism ever been because it is the most reasonable, the most grounded, the most practical out of any you’ve seen? or is it because of the emotion? the way it speaks to you, to your life and the person you are? the journey it takes you on? is the percy jackson and the olympians book series so good because it’s inherently realistic?

the secret to storytelling is, very simply, focus on your story. everything else is secondary. if it’s written well, it doesn’t matter to me that the characters walk into a trap that, to the audience, is obviously a trap. because i can understand how the characters don’t know it, and how the story falls apart if the narrative just tells the characters it’s a trap from the jump. that’s what dramatic irony is—first used in greek tragedies! this is literally a tale as old as time in every sense except for the end—where it’s happy. and it’s not earned if we don’t first see, over and over, the status quo as a tragic trap.

it’s not about if annabeth (or the other kids) is “smart enough” to not walk into a trap, or about if she’s just too prideful to not walk into what she knows is a trap (or any reason that could apply to the other characters), it’s that annabeth, at the end of the day, is a character. she is a storytelling tool for the messages of the narrative. that doesn’t make her any lesser. in fact ignoring it reduces her, because it reduces what she represents. it’s about how rick riordan, or whoever else at disney, has fumbled the storytelling bag so ridiculously hard that they can’t take the simple, effective formula outlined from start to finish (by good ol 2009 rick himself) and adapt it to the screen without answering the most unimportant, derailing, anti-story questions.

[olderthannetfic]

I know the response to this will be "WRITE FOR YOURSELF!!!1!" but when I look at things I worked really hard to write that have zero comments and the things I threw out there on a whim that actually appear to have made people happy, I feel so much less motivated to write the former. I know I'm supposed to be "doing it for myself" but I don't know what that means. It feels like those 90's movies saying "be yourself" or my therapist saying "be authentic". It's a nice enough sounding thing, but what does it mean? Does it mean writing in obscurity is more pure or more artsy? Is it supposed to be more moral and demonstrate integrity?

There's an agreement in fandom that writing for others is bad. It's impure. It's selfish. But no one has really ever explained why. Nor am I getting much out of writing a story that means a lot to me and getting dead silence in response. I like entertaining others and making them smile.

I can practically feel the, "uh, back in my day fic was hosted on a server and we didn't see hit counts let alone get comments and we were happy with it because we weren't whiny and in need of validation like Gen Z!!!1!" people gearing up to yell in the replies that they're good writers who don't care about comments. That's great for them, and I mean that sincerely. But equally sincerely, how are you supposed to maintain passion for something no one else is interested in? I've been told it's better to get validation via hit counts or bookmarks but numbers don't really do anything for me. Someone saying, "I loved this! Can't wait to see what happens next." can make not just my day but my week.

I know what people say. Fandom isn't a popularity context. It's not social media. You're not supposed to like talking to people about fandom things. But... I do. And the utter silence that is modern fandom - of the 100 last published fics in my fandom, only 10 have comments, and only 4 have regular commenters - is just really not fun to me.

--

Yes, lots of people do think it ~demonstrates integrity~. People who never finish anything.

People who actually succeed at making art will say superficially similar things, but what they mean is "If you write things you aren't actually interested in, you will either burn out or the art won't actually be satisfying to the audience or both".

--

The thing about back in the day is that we only got comments. You're dead wrong about that part. Yes, people whined that there wasn't enough feedback, and they will continue to whine about this until the end of time, but your description misses the most important part about the rose-colored glasses and what people are trying to explain about the past in most of those posts:

We couldn't see the lurkers (hit counts) but we did see some actual interactions. This allowed us to imagine that the comment rate was way higher than it actually was and to see fandom as a close-knit community (which was maybe somewhat more accurate than now but never as true as people believed).

--

You have fundamentally misunderstood what the (saner) posts about this are saying.

You shouldn't care about overall numbers. You should care about meaningful social interactions. Obviously, people like connecting with others via art.

Fandom is not a popularity contest. That's why you should enjoy talking to actual peers about things. Genuine connection is not about being a celebrity with fans: it's about making friends.

--

Some fandoms do have interactions. Maybe if you start interacting with others' works, that will help. Maybe you need a different fandom. "Modern fandom" isn't this total wasteland with no interaction, nor do most people find a total lack of it fun.

[svmjaeyvn]

love maze, s.jy.

chapter three pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER THREE: CONTRACT

previous masterlist next

word count: 4k

warnings: cursing, mention of slight violence, mention of alcohol, mentions of your drunk self trying to jump jake’s bones, pet names

a/n: omg hi more ppl are starting to read this so exciting how do i do a tag list or whateva

"GET YOUR ASS up," You feel a heavy presence on the top of your head, waking up from the previous alcohol induced slumber that allowed you to stay asleep until the afternoon. Pulling the pillow away from your face which Jay had decided to throw on top of you as a wake up call, you blinked slowly to adjust to the change in light.

Jay stood on the opposite end of the room, folding up the comforter that was previously on the floor with narrowed eyes. His sweats hung low along his hips, his upper half shirtless while his hair had been shaken of the water from his shower, sticking up in a few awkward ways due to his lack of brushing.

"It's 1:30," He speaks up, gesturing toward the digital clock that was hung up along his wall, the modern sleek look of it blending in nicely with his decor.

"My head," You mumble, grimacing as you sat up. A small snort comes from the boy, pointing toward the water bottle and smaller white container on the bedside table.

"Your ass wouldn't stop rolling around last night so I had to sleep on the floor," Jay huffs, picking up the lone pillow he took down with him in the middle of the night. "Should've just let you and Jake hook up, he would've had to dealt with you," He adds on through a mumble, not intending for you to hear but didn't care if you did either way.

Picking up your head, your brows frown as you sat up. Jay lets out a small laugh, your hair sticking up in all directions due to being pressed against the pillows all night and slight smudge to your make up. Rolling your eyes knowing you probably looked as bad as you felt, you pick up the pill bottle and water, popping two into your mouth and swallowing it down with the drink that your body desperately needed to rehydrate.

"What're you talking about?" You finally ask, wincing at the hoarse sound of your voice. Coughing a few times to clear it, Jay watches with a face that displayed his disgust in more ways than one.

"You done?" He asks once you finally still in your fit. With a bored look, you reluctantly nod while he sends you a sarcastic smile back. "You're telling me you don't remember anything from last night?"

Pausing, you attempt to recall the previous events. Everything became a blur after heading to the dance floor, unable to pinpoint what was real or not. "Uh, aside from drinking a lot, no," You shrug, not seeing the problem considering the handful of times you've blacked out, most of which in Jay's care so he should've been used to it. "To be fair, I'm pretty sure I drank a lot of that poison punch Jungwon made—"

With an obviously disgruntled sigh, Jay interrupts you by holding up his phone. You squint, attempting to see before holding out your hand, sending him a pointed look knowing your eye sight wasn't the best. Holding it up close, the video replays and your eyes widen seeing you and Jake on one of couches downstairs, it being undeniable as you're seen on his lap, practically dry humping in the middle of the party that seemed in full swing while making out.

Your mouth falls ajar, horrified by your intoxicated self's actions. You barely even knew Jake, sure you've seen him a few times and sure, he sort of (definitely) saved you but that didn't open up a connection. Did it?

"Do you remember trying to fight Bianca James too?"

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. "Who?"

Jay runs a hand across his face, turning away not knowing what was worse: you not knowing the millionaire trust fund baby's name or the fact that you didn't remember almost ripping her extensions out the night before.

"Bianca James? Daughter of the CEO that's dominating the business industry right now? The girl who literally gets driven around by a chauffeur to campus?" He rambles, obviously exasperated by your lack of knowledge though it was generally something everyone knew.

"The one with the botched nose job?"

Jay's face falls flat, throughly surprised that that was what you remembered of her reputation. "She got it fixed,"

"Well I don't know I'm not a business major! And I live off campus, everything that I know about school popularity comes from you guys," You answer with a shrug. "Yunjin says she's a bitch, so whatever it was, it was probably deserved that we were hair pulling. I play nasty when I'm drunk, you know that—"

"Bianca's has had a crush on Jake for like, four years. Their families have been in a partnership ever since Jake's dad wanted to expand to the West with the company. She's crazy, once she graduated last year she followed him here to Uni. His parents are pushing for them to get together because it'll make her happy which'll make her dad happy,"

You frown your brows, not seeing the point of his ramble. "Okay? So she's obsessed with him. That's not my problem, Jake's a known playboy either way so why does it matter if we hook up? Not that we did obviously since I ended up here but still,"

"She called you a dirty skank because she showed up to the party in the middle of you and Jake jumping each other on the couch. You, being drunk off your ass with mixed light and dark liquor, told her that just because she didn't have anyone to dick her down for the night didn't mean she had to make it everyone's problem," Jay deadpans, rather unamused while you bite back a laugh.

"I mean... yeah and I stand by that,"

"Point is, you two went back and forth until you got tired of it and tried to walk away but she pulled you back and you jumped on her. She started screaming, you were dragging her by the hair while Jake and Heeseung had to pull you off 'cause she didn't know how to fight and you were going in on her like we were back in high school," Jay explains in full while you nod along, his words causing your spotty memory to come back piece by piece to confirm he was right.

"Oh," You mumble, staring down at your hands. Your previously manicured nails were rough, one of them chipping on one hand while the other had a press on nail broken off, leaving your natural nail underneath evidently scrapped up and red. There was a slight redness to your right hand, the knuckles beginning to bruise in the smallest spot but aside from that, there were no other injuries on your end. "Damn, my bad. Party foul I guess,"

Jay shakes his head, unable to comprehend how you didn't remember a lick of last night but seemed relatively fine. Watching as he walked toward the bathroom, you shot your head up.

"Shit, Jay, I'm broke. What if she sues me?"

YOUR NOSE SCRUNCHES up at the incoming call, the unfamiliar number not ringing any bells causing you to press the reject button for the third time. You were sprawled out under one of the large trees on campus, your blanket that you always tucked away in your car for sunny days coming in handy as the weather grew warmer, allowing for you to wait between your classes while enjoying the fresh air and sun. You were perched up against the tree stump, headphones in listening to music with a book in hand.

The music pauses once again, the shrill of your ringtone causing you to let out a small groan in frustration. Decidedly having enough of the unknown number not getting the hint or leaving a message, you press accept to connect the call.

"Hello?" You speak first, the line quiet for a beat too long.

"Would it kill you to ever answer the phone?"

"You sound like my mom," You snort before realizing Jay had been the culprit in your interruptions. "Whose phone are you calling me from? Idiot I almost blocked you, kept stopping my music,"

"My phone died, this is Heeseung's number," Jay answers with a shrug, though you couldn't see him before he shakes his head. "Anyway, it's important obviously since I kept calling—"

"You couldn't have sent a message to let me know it was you and not a spam caller?"

"You're in deep shit," He finishes, ignoring your comment causing you to frown your brows. "Jake's looking for you, so just, don't be surprised if he shows up randomly,"

"What're you talking about?" You ask, not following the conversation at all. It had been a near week since the events of the frat party. No word had come of it, the first two you walked around rather cautious, prepped to run away if anyone came up to you with a stack of legal papers but nothing ever came. Living off campus, having entirely different areas of study, and not lingering for longer than needed for your classes allowed for you to stay entirely under the radar and out of Jake or Bianca's sight.

"I don't know, he went home yesterday and came back this morning saying he had to talk to you. It's important I guess. He wouldn't tell me but I'm assuming it has to do with last weekend," Jay explains, not being much help in providing context causing you to roll your eyes.

"Well obviously, I never spent more than three minutes around him before that," You huff, shutting your book and beginning to collect your things. "It's fine, he doesn't know my schedule and I go home after my last class so I can avoid him for now,"

"Uh,"

"What?" Pausing in your process, you take Jay's silence as a bad sign of him being an idiot. "Jongseong tell me you didn't tell him where I was,"

"I only told him that you'd be on campus for lectures today and he asked till when and I said till like 4 but that was before he explained why!" Jay rushes, words jumbled together in attempt to save himself. "I didn't tell him where, you're a lit major, the English department is huge and he has classes today too so it should be fine—"

"You're such an idiot," You breathe out, eyes widening at the convenience of the man of the hour that seemed to be wandering aimlessly looking around. Picking up your bag and slinging the blanket over your head to cover up your features, you begin to walk to opposite way, ignoring the poking leaves that still clung to the material. "I'm gonna kill you Jay, seriously he's looking for me which gives Bianca fuel to actually sue me if she wanted to cause she's crazy and already doesn't like me,"

"Well she has a reason,"

"She started it," You shoot back, voice almost a whisper into the phone in fear of speaking too loudly and gaining the brunettes attention that was across the way. In reality the sight of a bright red blanket being tossed over a persons body in the middle of comfortable heat was enough to gain anyone's attention, not that you were thinking clearly in the first place though. "I only regret it cause she's rich, stupid rich with the ability to ruin my life,"

There was another voice that was muffled through the line, Jay bickering with the owner. With a sigh, he speaks directly into the phone. "Alright, Hee wants his phone back so I gotta go. You're welcome by the way, you know, for the heads up,"

"Whatever, charge your phone I'll text you later," You mumble, bidding a goodbye to the boy who agrees and soon the line clicked, indicating that the call was ended. Looking around, you stop short realizing that you were headed in the wrong direction that your lecture would be. Slowly turning in attempt to find where Jake should've been, you pause with no sight of him. Assuming that the blanket was blocking your peripheral vision, you spin around fully only to let out a rather loud yelp in surprise.

Jake's eyes widen, shushing you and sending the few heads that turned a sheepish smile, reassuring that everything was fine. Catching your breath due to the sudden jump scare, you shake your head at him.

"What're you doing here?"

"Why're you avoiding me?"

You purse your lips at his retort. "Who says I was avoiding anybody?"

Jake lets out a small snort, picking one of the leaves off of the blanket with a pointed look. "Right, so you regularly go around like this?"

Wordlessly, you pull the blanket off of your body, Crumbling it up against your chest, one hand reaches out to flatten your hair that was sure to be sticking up in a few places. "Yeah, Thursdays. That's my thing, it's been cold, you know?"

Deciding against going back and forth, Jake checks the time on his phone momentarily. "How important is your next class?"

"Why?" You question, his answer being a reflection of what yours would be.

He shrugs half heartedly, looking around before his eyes settle back on you. His expression nearly unreadable, the smile he forced onto his lips not reaching his gaze causing your stomach to turn involuntarily. "Lets go eat,"

YOU SAT AWKWARDLY picking at the basket of fries between the two of you. You ended up on opposite sides of a booth in a well known burger place on campus, two drinks and the fries between you the only things ordered though Jake insisted on getting whatever you wanted.

You weren't necessarily hungry, having your lunch not too long ago and the thought of packing down a messy burger while having a sort-of serious conversation didn't seem like the best idea. Thus, the two of you sat silently, the soft music that played throughout the restaurant being the only noise to fill the space between you.

Taking a sip from the lemonade you ordered, you played with the garnish that was added to the rim. Growing antsy with the silence, you let out a small sigh. "Hey, uh, I didn't miss my lecture just for us to sit here right?"

Jake, who had seemed to be in a daze staring at the salt and pepper shakers at the corner of the table, blinks at the sound of your voice. Processing the words, he shakes his head. With a clear of his throat, he speaks. "No, no, sorry. I'm just trying to figure out how to explain this to you,"

"That's reassuring," You hum, sarcasm dripping from your words.

"Bianca is trying to cause trouble now because of what happened," Jake finally blurts, not knowing which way to start so he figured ripping off the bandaid would be best.

Your eyes widen slightly, stiffening up at the new information. "Jesus christ I didn't think she'd actually try to sue me over extensions,"

A small snort came from Jake, amused by your words as he shakes his head. "She's not quite there yet," He reassures, the tiniest of smiles quirking at the corners of his lips. "She did, however, go cry to her dad per usual. Word about me and you got back to my parents and they were on my ass about what happened,"

You tilt your head, not following where the conversation was meant to head if it weren't you ending up in legal debt. "Okay?"

"I had to lie," He starts off, wearily holding up his hands to show he meant no offense causing your suspicion to grow.

"About what exactly?"

"Well, keep in mind if I didn't then you probably would've gotten served papers over even held in a jail cell overnight," Jake clarifies, one of his hands awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he diverted his gaze to the tabletop, studying the lines of the wood. "As far as they're concerned, we're in a relationship,"

You blink, half expecting him to laugh it off and say it was all a joke. However, the grimace on his face in prep for your reaction spoke more truth than you'd like to acknowledge. "Okay... why exactly did you tell them that?"

"Because by saying you were my girlfriend, my parents were able to convince Bianca's dad that it wasn't technically your fault. She came by looking for a fight because she wanted me, even while I was in a relationship," He shrugs, taking a small sip from the bubbly soda that was rather untouched on his end. "She had been traveling around Europe for the past month so it's believable, I said we were fairly new either way,"

"So basically your parents think we're in a relationship," You sum up, finding the confession not as serious as he made it out to be initially.

"And so does Bianca, who goes here too," Jake adds, watching as you pinched your brows together, beginning to puzzle together what he meant by that.

"No,"

"Yeah," A sheepish smile took place on his lips, attempting to lighten the blow while you shake your head in denial. "If she finds out we're not actually together she'll go right back and snitch. Without me backing you up I'm sure she'll convince someone to get back at you, so for now we need to act like it's real,"

You sent Jake a bored look. "You're telling me that we have to fake date? The whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing and all?" He nods along, albeit hesitant but confirms your questions. You narrow your eyes, confused by how rather nonchalant he seemed by it all when offering such a thing. "What's in it for you?"

"Sorry?" Jake stutters, surprised by that being your first question.

"What do you get out of this? We barely know each other, I doubt this is out of the kindness of your heart,"

He pauses, lips pursing together with a slight nod. "Bianca's been pushing for us to get together since she transferred here," Jake admits, rolling his eyes at the thought. "Because of how ambit she is, my family encourages it. As long as she's happy, her dad will be happy, and in return it'll benefit them. But they’re not unreasonable. At least for right now, they'll back off because of said girlfriend,"

"You know, if I knew making out with you would lead me to this much trouble, I would've never let you dance with me," You sigh, watching as his expression morphed into a rather amused one.

"You kissed me first,"

"No I didn't,"

"You did," A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, satisfied with your uneasiness. You didn't remember much of that night, even after the spotty memories came back so it was highly probable what he said was true. "You were eager too," Pulling down the collar of his shirt, your eyes widening seeing the small cluster of bruising along his collarbone, presumably from your doing due to how faded they looked, almost healed but still noticeable. "Didn't take you as a girl who liked to leave a mark,"

"To be fair, I don't acknowledge my black out days. That's a whole different person," You shrug, gesturing for him to put the shirt back in place to keep the tacky hickeys out of view.

Reluctantly, Jake readjusted himself. Though the small laugh that left his lips didn't go unnoticed, feeling significantly more at ease now that the brunt of the conversation was over with and you seemed to take it better than anticipated.

Suddenly clapping your hands, you begin to dig through your backpack. Pulling out a piece of paper from a notebook and a pen from the front pocket, Jake watches as you began to scribble on the sheet. He could see the numbered list you began to make, leaning in closer to catch a glimpse of the words.

"Okay!" You smile, turning the sheet around and placing the pen down beside it. "Add or change anything that you want," Pushing the paper towards Jake, you allow him to take a second to read the mock contract you've created, the guidelines in your do's in dont's to the relationship agreement.

"Number one, don't get attached?" Jake reads aloud, slightly surprised by that being your highest priority along with the wording of it.

With a small shrug, you nod back. "All cliché movies always put down don't fall in love, I don't want to jinx it" You explain. "Personally, I've never had a problem with friends with benefits situations. The main thing is to never get attached though, so that's number one,"

He hums back, in silent agreement with your words and finding it comforting how not phased you were. Maybe it was because he'd been running away from a certain someone's grasp for a year but the nonchalant nature in how you approached the potential relationship seemed refreshing.

The rest of the list had general rules: no unnecessary PDA, no outside relationships during the duration of the agreement, always stick to the story, only tell those absolutely necessary of the agreement (ie Jay), don't make it weird after the contract ends, contract end date, April 3rd (?).

"Why April?" Jake asks, counting the days in his head to see it would be a near four months out.

"My birthday's the 27th. I don't want to be in a fake relationship on my 21st birthday, I'd like to get legally drunk and potentially hook up with whoever I want in peace," You snort, planning out the break up to have three weeks of separation to avoid suspicion. "I mean, we can always end it earlier that's just, the cut off ya know? Play it by ear,"

"Alright," Jake agrees, finding it reason enough. "What counts as excessive PDA?" You raise a brow, expecting him to know the answer in itself but he sheepishly shrugs, a boyish smile playing at his lips. "What? I tend to touchy in a relationship, I just want to know the boundaries,"

"As long as you're not constantly trying to make out with me everywhere we go we should be fine," You answer, narrowing your eyes as he nods, seemingly taking a mental note of it. "How touchy are you?"

"Very," Jake admits, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know my ex made me take one of those love languages test and physical touch was like, 70% of it I think,"

"Okay.. good to know," You mumble, not exactly surprised by the random fact considering even with friends and the handful of times you've been around, Jake was always very affectionate to the boys. "Mine goes acts of service, quality time, and then touch," Figuring you'd be playing the part for a while, it would be beneficial for you both to know what would be expected in a real relationship.

He hums. You watch as he pulls out his phone, beginning to type without a word to you. Raising a brow, slightly annoyed by his lack of attention to the ongoing conversation, you relax as he puts it down. From the upside view you had, you could see the title of the new note he made which read '___ FACTS' with your love languages listed below. A smile breaks way onto your lips, unable to keep it away causing Jake to tilt his head, confused by your sudden amusement but he couldn't help but quirk a smile of his own at your infectious expression.

"How do you feel about nicknames?" He instead asks, changing the topic without hitch.

"I'm good with any that aren't overly corny,"

"So no baby cakes?" You immediately shake your head, wincing at the name. "Sugar plum?" Somehow worse, you disagree though a small laugh left your lips as he began to list absurd pet names. "Pookie bear?"

"Never any of that," You emphasize, covering your face out of embarrassment while Jake grins, finding your reaction rather humorous. "I'm basic, a good baby or even sweetheart would suffice,"

"Babygirl?"

You scrunch up your nose, a small shrug on your end causing Jake to raise a brow out of surprise, half expecting you to turn it down straight away. Your response only furthers his less than innocent thoughts. "That only works when I'm drunk and horny,"

He clears his throat, a small nod to himself before he responds. "Good to know,”

[dinas-a-bird]

Okay so I’m imma request something you don’t have to do it!! But I love your work and uh idk I had an idea so.

Maybe dom g!p Abby and fem sub reader going to celebrate pride. On the way someone asks reader for their number and reader can’t say no so they say yes. Abby gets all pissed because she’s jealous. Anyways the person who asked reader for their number sees them kissing and Abby sees them as well getting all touchy with reader till the other person leaves. Well Abby fucks reader in a toilette or something to show them who they belong to. Idk if that makes sense😭. Also I got a huge breeding kink so if you could add it, that would be great.

Thank youuuu<3

I LOVED WRITING THIS REQUEST-anyway sorry this took so long my lovely anon, I started it then got writers block🥲 BUT I MANAGED TO FINALLY FINISH IT YIPPIE! I did change the request a little with how abby got jealous so I hope that is okay, but the smut is smutty and I tried my best to incorporate the breeding kink as well! this whole one-shot had a mind of its own once I got going

MINORS DNI

Unexpected Attention

Pairing: dom g!p Abby Anderson x sub!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, fingering r!receiving, pet-names (good girl, princess, baby, sweet girl), dom!Abby, sub!reader, possessive!Abby, g!p!Abby, breeding kink, implied after care, penetration r!receiving, multiple orgasms, praise, degrading(blink and you'll miss it), use of y/n, modern AU

Summary: Ellie wants your number, Abby has other plans.

Word Count: 1,924

A/N: As always comments are appreciated and sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, enjoy!

It is a bright and vibrant day as you and Abby make your way to the pride parade being held downtown, hand in hand. As you continue walking you start to see the streets lined with colorful banners, people walking about celebrating. You finally make it to the celebration and Abby looks over to you grinning, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Isn't this amazing, y/n?" she says, raising her voice to be heard over the cheerful crowd.

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. "It's incredible, Abs. I'm so glad you convinced me to come."

Soon you both find a spot to stand to watch the parade floats ride by. Abby looks around searching for something and as soon as she sees it she smiles and looks back down at you. “I’m going to head inside to the restroom,” She points over her shoulder to a restaurant not too far away, “You okay standing here and saving my spot till I get back?” Typically, Abby wouldn't dare leave you alone in a crowd like this, but because the restaurant was so close by she thought nothing would happen to you in the span of a couple minutes.

You peek around her, eyeing the building, you nod your head, “I’ll be okay Abs. Just be quick please.” She kisses your forehead, mumbling reassurances, before she heads off.

As you wait, you keep your eyes glued to the building your girlfriend entered. Only a minute or so has passed when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. “Hey cutie.” Spinning around you see a slender woman, who's wearing a confident smirk, standing inches away from you. 

As the woman introduces herself as Ellie, you can’t help but notice her bold and flirtatious demeanor, something Abby would definitely not approve of. Her smirk and confident stance make it clear that she has an interest in you. Your heart races slightly, unsure of how to handle this situation.

"Hey," you reply, trying to maintain a friendly tone despite feeling a little uneasy. "I'm y/n."

Ellie's eyes gleam with amusement as she leans in closer. "Y/n, huh? That's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," she compliments, her words laced with charm.

You blush slightly, feeling a mix of flattery and discomfort, mostly discomfort. "Thank you… Ellie. It's nice to meet you."

She chuckles, her eyes lingering on yours. "Likewise. You know, I couldn't help but notice you from across the crowd. You really stood out."

You shift uncomfortably, glancing around for Abby's return. "Oh, well, thank you. It's a fun day to stand out… I guess."

Ellie's smirk only grows wider, clearly enjoying the thought of having some kind of effect on you. "You're definitely not wrong about that. So, how about we exchange numbers? Maybe we can hang out sometime," she suggests. Leaning in closer she puts her phone in your empty hand.

You hesitate, Abby's possessiveness lingering in the back of your mind. But before you can respond, a voice cuts through the air, causing both you and Ellie to turn.

Abby is striding back towards you with purpose in her step. Her eyes lock onto Ellie, and you see her jaw clench slightly as she approaches. "Hey, sorry it took a bit longer than I thought," Abby looks at you, completely ignoring Ellie's presence.

"It's okay, Abs. This is Ellie. She was just..talking to me," you reply, gesturing towards the woman beside you.

Abby's eyes narrow slightly, but she forces a disingenuine smile. "Oh, hi Ellie. I'm Abby," she says, extending her hand to the woman.

Ellie takes Abby's hand, her smirk still in place. "Nice to meet you, Abby. Y/n here is quite the charmer," she gives you a playful wink.

Abby's grip tightens slightly on Ellie's hand, her expression becoming cold. "Yeah, I know.” Ellie seems almost unfazed by Abby’s harsh grip as they shake hands, almost relishing the challenge. Sensing the tension between the two, you decide to speak up.

"Actually, Ellie was just about to leave Abs," you say, placing the girl's phone in her unoccupied hand. "We were just having a quick chat. Right, Ellie?"

Ellie glances at you and then back at Abby, seemingly enjoying the drama unfolding before her. "Yeah, you're right. I should get going. It was nice meeting both of you." She gives you one last lingering look before walking away.

As soon as Ellie is out of earshot, Abby turns to you, her expression stern. "What was that about?"

You sigh, feeling guilty for the interaction. "I didn't expect her to approach me like that, Abs. She just started flirting with me and then asked to exchange numbers. But I didn’t put mine in her phone Abby, I promise."

Abby's jaw tightens again, and she takes a deep breath before mumbling. "Fuck.. alright c’mon." She grips your hand and leads you out of the crowd, you glance back and see Ellie watching you both with a playful smirk. You try to shake the image out of your mind as you look back up at your girlfriend.

“Abs, where are we goin?” Your voice cracks. Her gaze doesn't shift as she mumbles something, her voice drowned out by the parade. Soon she stops and opens a door, you look up and realize it's the same restaurant she entered earlier that evening. Once inside Abby grips your hand tight and leads you through the dining area to the back where the restrooms are located. Once there she ushers you inside and locks the door behind her.

Before you can ask what is happening, Abby pins you against the sink, your ass pressing into the growing bulge in her jeans. "I know you where going to give that fucking girl your number, if you're really that desperate to be fucked, then having my cock buried deep inside of you in a public restroom should be perfect. Don't you think?" You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a pitiful whine as Abby's calloused hands push down your pants and underwear.

"You're going to be a good girl for me, right? Or would you rather me go out there and find Ellie?" Abby hisses into your ear.

"I'll be...be good." you choke out, your eyes closing as you feel Abby’s fingers slipping in between your folds.

"Fuck.. your so wet.. Is this all for me? Or is it for her?" Abby asks as she roughly inserts two of her fingers into you.

"All for you Abs" you manage to get out in between little whimpers and moans. After a couple more thrusts she pulls out her fingers and looks at them.

"You wet enough for me to stick a third finger in you, get you ready for my cock?" You manage to open your mouth but all that falls out of it are soft cries for her to put her fingers back. "When I ask you a question I expect an answer princess." You manage to let out a soft, "get me ready for your cock please."

"Good girl." She leans back into you, three of her fingers diving into your soaked pussy. "I'm going to make you mine," she growls her breath hot on your neck, "you're going to get so wet and hot for my cock that you won't be able to stop yourself from coming all over my fingers before I give it to you."

"'m yours please." you let out a choked sob of pleasure as she pumps her fingers harder.

"That's my good girl." She lets out a loud groan as she watches her fingers, stretching you open as she pushes them in as far as she can get them. "Your so fucking wet.. and so tight. I can feel you tightening 'round my fingers baby. You think you deserve to cum?" she asks, her finger pumping into you as she watches you.

"Yes!" you let out in a throaty moan, her finger thrusting into you as you feel yourself closing around her. "Please please.. let me cum!" Abby lets out a low groan as she pushes her fingers in deeper.

"Cum for me y/n, show me who you belong to."

"I belong to you! Abby, I'm yours!" You cry out as your legs start to shake.

"Fuck, thats it princess" Abby soothes as she holds you down by your hips, her fingers pumping into you as you cum around them. "You think your ready for my cock now? You think you deserve it" She kisses your neck, sucking a mark into the soft skin. A choked out please is all you can manage before you feel Abby remove her fingers and start pulling on her jeans and boxers behind you.

"I'm going to cum in you princess, you're going to be mine, and you're going to love it." you whine at her words and try to press your ass into her member. "You like that don't you dirty girl? The thought of me fucking a baby into that sweet cunt of yours?" Her words sound degrading but you can't help but feel your slick run down your thighs as she says them.

"please.. Abs..need it" you whimper.

"Shhh..sweet girl...i'll make sure not a drop of my cum leaves your pretty pussy." Abby's lips touch your ear, her hand guiding her cock to your entrance. She gently pushes the head of her thick member into you, then inches of her length until she's fully buried inside. After giving you a moment to adjust she slowly starts moving, sliding in and out of you as you whimper and moan in pleasure.

"You're taking me so well. I bet Ellie could never fuck you as well as I do." Abby whispers to you as she moves your hips, forcing her cock in and out of you at a faster pace.

"Please... please…’m yours..” you beg, feeling her fingers at your clit as she moves into you. "want you to breed me...need it Abs" You feel Abbys mouth start to leave sloppy kisses on your neck as she moans.

"you're such a good girl for me" she mumbles into your neck, her hips slamming into yours. "I'm going to make you feel so good. 'm gonna fill you up so good."

you choke back a sob as you feel your abdomen tightening. "'m gonna cum" you manage to say.

"Wait princess 'm almost there." Abby lets out a low groan as she thrusts faster. "Gonna fill you up with my seed...you're going to be so full of me." After a couple more thrusts Abby feels her thighs tighten. "fuck..cum with me" she begs as she thrusts harder.

“I'm cumming" you cry out, your body clenching around her as you feel your walls clamp down and milk her seed inside you. "Fuck...I love you Abby...I love you so much" you sob as she pulls her mouth away and kisses your ear.

"I love you too" she whispers before pulling her cock out of you. Abby grabs some paper towels and begins to clean you up as best she can. Once you both are cleaned up and redressed Abby leans in and engulfs you in a comforting hug. "How about we go home and take a nice bath?" She asks, kissing the top of your head.

Nodding your head you sigh into her chest, "I'd like that." Abby smiles at you as she steps away and begins to unlock the bathroom door.

[randomfoggytiger]

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (My Struggle I), Part I

For David Duchovny’s birthday, I put out a poll asking Tumblr which of his projects I should watch for the first time. 

The Revival won. Welp. 

I then, fool that I am, put up another poll wherein I doomed myself by including an option to watch the whole thing. 

And here we are. 

My Struggle I. 

Oh, boy. 

This post will be long because I'm laying the groundwork for the rest of the series.

MY MODUS OPERANDI

I don’t care how cute or cuddly or happy or heartfelt individual MSR moments are, popcorn will be thrown if those scenes are achieved through incomplete, inane, or nonsensical plot points. Give me 1+1=2 or give me death.

The Revival is part of a whole that includes all of Seasons 1-9 and Fight the Future and I Want to Believe. As much as I prefer to distance this series from canon, the reality that it functions as a direct follow-up remains; and it needs to be judged accordingly.

And, as always, I separate the art from the artist~.

...WELP. It’s time to face my doom. 

Let's go!

MY STRUGGLE IV

The intro’s… fine. Engaging, even. 

I did notice, though: the last series and Fight the Future and I Want to Believe began with the same formula: glimpses from what will be an x-files case, then straight to Scully’s perspective. Usually Mulder’s narration and POV didn’t feature until the tail-end of a two or three parter, i.e. Redux or Amor Fati or… well, even then, it was juxtaposed against Scully’s. 

Scully was the voice of The X-Files-- even Chris Carter noted that her report of each episode’s casefile became a motif of the show. Mulder’s narration was rare, very rare, even in episodes that were written to focus on him. 

A definite and purposed choice, to be sure. Mulder as an active agent in his own story. …OR a story that focuses on Mulder’s voice instead of Scully’s. 

We shall see. 

The intro continues; and it’s still engaging, possibly gripping (too bad I know where this leads)... but the music got a bit LOTR there. Is that just me? Seems… mellow, orchestral, a little more fantasy than sci-fi. Am I nitpicking? Maybe. 

The BIBLE references UFOs?? Lol, no. (Unless you count the objects described in Revelations-- the book, not the episode-- but even then, those are largely considered to be drones, not UFOs.)

Chris Carter, I see you. 

(Note from the future: NOW I see why the Bible bit was included-- lots of heavy-handed "God means this, Scully" in order to get her on-board to join the files. Ugh.)

…They’re really doubling down on the UFO lore, huh. All of which evaporated because of global warming, I guess. 

GUYS, why couldn’t this have been about life on Earth after Colonization?????

It fits with the disaster footage, it fits with Mulder’s voiceover, it fits with the character progression from Season 9 (I GUESS), it fits with a whooooooooooole ton of other factors. 

I’ve never been one for wanting Colonization in canon, but it literally would have worked for this series. There wouldn't need to be a complete wipeout of humanity, maybe just a “disaster happened, but the humans are fighting back” scenario. 

And that would fit with Mulder and Scully’s "breakup", PERHAPS-- they spent so much time working, trying to save the world (she in science, he on the ground or with untainted factions who coalitioned post-Colonization) that their relationship cracks would need to be actively worked through. Not broken up so much as together and repairing.

It would also help CC and co. to avoid the tempest of modern US politics and the more mainstream conspiracies that were taking hold at that time-- a broader reach to all audiences, a "bigger picture" for everyone to unite under.

(Guys, they should have let me write for this show. …I take it back, I’d have quit after three days.) 

Also: The show writers spent all their brain power on this sequence and this sequence alone, didn’t they? 

Obiwan Kenobi and Military Man are going on a bus somewhere.  

...On closer inspection, neither man looks like anything like Obiwan Kenobi, but the nickname is staying.

We’re back to Scully at a hospital-- not unlike I Want to Believe’s opening.

Skinner called? Oh. Didn’t know he was “here” this early. 

WAIT. 

Wait, wait, wait. 

Scully just called up Mulder like nothing’s a big deal? He answered like nothing’s a big deal? She’s smiling over his joke from the get-go?

…And we’re supposed to believe they’re seriously broken up. Which the show will insist is the case. 

David and Gillian really said, “Script? What script?” and did what they wanted. I salute them. 

Also, “What’s happening out there, Scully?” is a great line to point to Mulder’s continued isolation… which the series will IMMEDIATELY toss aside because he’s, apparently, not been as much of a hermit lately? (Granted, this could be a joke at his own expense because he’s no longer claimed by ~the darkness~, but…. I don’t think the writing’s gonna be that clever, I’ll be honest.)  

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

Fine, I admit it. 

I’m loving this so far. 

And that’s gonna make me even angrier later on. 

“Why doesn’t he [Skinner] just call me?”

“He doesn’t know how to reach you, Mulder. I barely know myself.”

Mulder is baffled and a tinge annoyed, Scully is amused and straight shooting. 

THERE IS NO HINT, BEHAVIOR, OR MANNERISM SUGGESTING THEY’VE BROKEN UP. None. At all. He’s isn’t reluctant to answer her call, isn’t sad or withdrawn, isn’t affected by anything she’s saying other than to be teasy or poky. She isn’t hesitant to call, isn’t sad or depressed, isn’t anything other than a little pleased to dangle a juicy tidbit in front of Mulder’s face. 

This is gonna follow IWTB’s ping-pong writing-- they’re fun and in-character, they’re suddenly out-of-character, they’re fun and in-character, they’re suddenly out-of-character, etc. etc. etc.-- isn’t it?

(Mulder taping over his laptop’s webcam is a great touch and not something at all that I’ve done before. At all.) 

“I thought you were done with UFOs-- the ‘stranglehold they put on your very existence’, I believe you put it.” 

“I’m just the messenger, Mulder.”

That’s GOOD, that’s necessary writing. That’s planting the seeds of what happened between them, what led to a cooldown or a breakup or a whathaveyou. AND STILL neither character acts as if they’ve broken up: no melancholy, no sadness, no nothing. 

Mulder’s timbre became a little sardonic while quoting back her words, but that doesn’t mean they’ve broken up. If anything, that points to a bicker and line-in-the-sand between them-- him bringing up UFOs at the dinner table and her reminding him to talk to someone else about it before turning the topic to how the lettuce is growing or something.

Neither actor is performing like one would if pain and trauma and heartbreak and distance were placed between them; and that really complicates things because the breakup is built on top of the aforementioned list of struggles. 

Would Mulder have dug his heels in post 2012, seeing it as a sign that “the aliens” just changed their plans? Yes. 

Would Scully have seen a pursuit down that rabbit hole as a waste of time? Debatable. The Truth S9 Scully wouldn’t have-- the aliens are still out there; and they cost her months of her life, months of Mulder’s abduction, months of Mulder’s death, months of Mulder’s separation, and the ultimate cost: William’s adoption and their life on the run. Post The Truth Scully would have seen this as her quest, too: she won’t give up, she says in the finale, because he won’t. 

IWTB Scully, however, would- and that's a problem. 

I’ve already discussed, at length, how out-of-character Scully was in I Want to Believe (posts here.) Although Mulder doesn’t escape from the same writing blunders, she is really, really scalped: of her courage, of her will, of her determination. 

Whenever Scully gave up, in canon, it was only because she thought she was holding Mulder back, or when she felt Mulder had lost his faith and trust in her. That held true in Season 9-- despite the appalling writing choices there, too-- but didn’t in IWTB. 

The Revival had the perfect opportunity to factory reset the writers' mistakes: portray a wiser duo who continue to fight the fight according to their strengths, like they always have before Mulder ever met Scully. (When Mulder tells Scully to set up a meeting with Skinner, he adds, “Don’t pretend I’m going alone”-- which reinforces my point.) 

But I know that's not going to happen.  

Scully goes without argument-- THAT’S GOOD, THAT’S GOOD CHARACTER WRITING. At this point in the game, of course she would-- they trust each other, they have for years, they’d have reached even deeper levels after going on the run for [insert math] years. All good things! 

The problem: this will create a huge conflict with her actions later.

(I’m already so disappointed.) 

“Uber?”/”Hitchhiking. Relax, Scully, I’m kidding” was a fun modernization of their humor, I’ll take it. 

This scene is starting to highlight the distance between them, which is all well-and-good, but feels tonally different from the previous scene. As in, their two scenes were definitely filmed on different days, in different moods, and with different intents. 

She’s worried about him, with tears in her eyes; he has his walls up; there’s distance, as previously noted. 

“Good for you to get out of that little house every once in a while”/”Certainly was good for you” is followed up with knowing, indulgent, pleased smiles and you expect me to believe these two are seriously broken up. Nope. I’ve seen Scully sad but amused, I’ve seen Scully too sad to be amused, but these two? This moment? Nah.

Tonally dissonant-- the IWTB problem: at-ease and close one minute, at-odds and distant the next. Hoorayyyyyy....

None of this makes sense for a long-term, permanent (as Scully infers later to someone else) breakup. Nor for a short-term, semi-permanent one. Math doesn’t math. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” she says, implying he's the one who permanently pulled away… which will be contradicted later this very episode. 

“I’m always happy to find a reason [to leave the house],” he says, somberly. 

Both of which are odd lines. 

If he’s happy to leave the house to see her… why hasn’t he? 

If she’s happy to see him, always, but says a relationship between them was "impossible" (which she will later), why is Scully staring at him with heart eyes, hoping he gets better so they can continue their relationship? (And mark my words, this tone underscores her interactions with him the rest of this series.) 

Tad’s here. He’s... fine. He represents the overly cautious very well. At least he hasn’t gone full Alex Jones mockumentary (...yet.) 

I’ve heard criticisms that Mulder and Scully don’t act like themselves in this series, but based off the few minutes I’ve seen here… I don’t agree. 

The essence is the same. Truly. Scully’s got the same face that lights up the same way, Mulder’s got the same expressions and young-at-heart humor. Neither are really melancholic. Neither are David or Gillian esque. 

Perhaps that will change. 

(Note from the future: OH BOY. Which Mulder and Scully are we talking here-- OG Mulder and Scully? Nope. IWTB Mulder and Scully? Yep. David and Gillian? Once or twice.)

But, again, their interactions feel… wasted. Hollow. They’re supposed to be broken up, but their breakup doesn’t contribute to their interactions or the plot. They’re supposed to have suffered and are working back to each other… but they aren’t really separated, haven’t seemed to suffer (note from future: except for one scene which comes outta nowhere), and won’t collapse back together on-screen.

They’re supposed to be wiser and more mature, but they’ll still engage in a silly will-they-won’t-they while Mulder eats up the latest UFO or conspiracy slop he’s either already engaged in or debunked [insert math] years ago and Scully clings to her cowardice like a leech. 

First nagging problem: Scully smiling at Tad, Scully excusing Mulder’s mannerisms when he becomes briefly jealous, Scully making nice with a conspiracy nut. 

…Isn’t that Mulder’s job? Didn't she leave because conspiracies were consuming her life? Does this mean she actually does want this life back but is she playing coy or elusive because...?

Furthermore, when Mulder popped a comment off to a witness or informant in the past, Scully never excused him-- just breezed over it professionally with another question. She’s only saying “excuse him” here because she’s taken a shine to Tad. WHY, on this post-2012 global warming green Earth, WOULD SHE?

Tad says Mulder is the X-Files, Mulder says that “book is closed”... WAIT. Wait, hold up--

Pause. Stop. Rewind. 

Mulder wants to believe. Actual proof is hard to come by. 

Tad thinks Mulder is the X-Files. 

MULDER SAYS… *ahem*... Mulder says, “I’m afraid that book is closed.” …Which means he’s no longer into UFOs or aliens, too. SO. why did Scully LEAVE.

If that’s behind him, why aren’t they together again???? Mulder didn’t know who Tad O’Malley was a minute or so ago, meaning he’s been outta the conspiracy scene for a bit. That MEANS his departure from Conspiracyville's been long enough to patch-up his obsession and ensuing depression, I guess.

But then... what about Scully??

Because Mulder wants her to come back (already subtly established in each scene), and Scully is concerned for his welfare; but Scully thinks he’s still into UFO conspiracy and hasn’t come back because of it? BUT SHE ISN’T SHOCKED WHEN HE SAYS “I’m afraid that book is closed” MEANING SHE KNOWS HE’S PUT THAT BEHIND HIM... BUT STILL HASN’T RETURNED?

And both of them aren’t acting as if they’ve broken up, anyway, except for a pointed line of dialogue here and a brief reaction there before they yeet back to the status quo.

They’ve left that behind them, Scully says, for better or worse. And Mulder latches onto that better or worse, making a pointed barb at their breakup, but…. There’s no writing glue, just suggestion and inference; and the suggestions themselves don’t add up. 

Here come the bullet points. 

Season 10 posits Mulder became depressed after the aliens didn’t invade in 2012-- that’s reasonable and logical, his nature is depressive when his expectations are subverted or smashed or etc. 

Season 10 also posits Scully left because Mulder became too much to deal with. That’s… not logical, since her nature is to rescue and nurture, even when Mulder’s being an actual boil on her sittin’ cheeks (ala Demons, etc., etc.) 

Season 10 posits Mulder’s hard to get a hold of-- despite being in the same house the FBI helicoptered to in IWTB-- and posits it might be hard for Scully to get a hold of him-- despite the fact both characters easily got in contact, knew it was each other, and even joked about the fact it’s hard to get in contact with Mulder… which means it really isn't. (The script doesn’t catch these discrepancies, of course, pretending Mulder is very hidden away at the same ol' house he'd been discovered at in 2008.) 

Season 10 says Scully doesn’t want UFOs to be part of her life anymore, that it was a stranglehold… yet she came along on a conspiracy gig without question to… what? Be around Mulder? But then, why warm up to the conspiracy guy-- an embodiment of what drove her and her partner apart?

Season 10 posits Mulder chased Scully off with his conspiracy spiraling YET ALSO states he’s put that part of his life-- conspiracies, UFOs, the X-Files-- behind him. Which implies: A. Mulder’s aaaaaaall better now and B. he put that all behind him but Scully never came home and C. Scully shouldn’t know he put that all behind him if that’s what’s keeping her away; but she does know because his declaration doesn’t take her by surprise, which means she’s still driven away and concerned for him for no discernable reason.  

Season 11 posits Scully didn’t leave because Mulder became too much to deal with but because she, too, had issues to deal with. This point wasn't mentioned or hinted at in the episode that introduces their breakup, which makes that line of reasoning a complete rewrite. (Whatever. I’ll judge how well that’s executed when I get there.)

It doesn’t add up. 

Are we surprised. 

Five seconds after this, I had to listen to a back-and-forth between Tad O���Malley and Mulder on conspiracies and Conservatives and alien beliefs and the O’Reilly Factor and….

This seems out of touch, I’m not sorry. 

When this show aired, Conservatives already had their miles-long conspiracy theories. For Mulder to be ignorant of that fact while allegedly knowing exactly who and what Tad believes while also alleging….

More bullet points!

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder has, supposedly, been out of the conspiracy scene. 

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder isn’t aware that not only did 2015 Conservatives believe in aliens-- despite the fact Tad is a watered-down copy-paste of Alex Jones-- but that there were also Conservative believers in the 90s (who were a fringe in their own group, but.) This was Mulder’s expertise; and his eidetic memory isn’t likely to have tossed that info because it was no longer relevant to his life. 

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder has supposedly not been out of the conspiracy scene-- despite saying he is-- because he does know who Tad O’Malley is-- despite not knowing who he was two minutes ago. 

Mulder is assuming that Conservatives “of your credentials” don’t believe in UFOs or “9/11 false-flag conspiracies” despite people from the Left, Center, and Right publicly believing those conspiracies in 2015. 

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder is supposed to be dismantling Tad’s grift; but he (and the writers) sound uneducated and incredibly out-of-touch during this dialogue-- as if all Conservatives were still Bush-era believers. Most were suspicious of the government by this time (they helped elect a man who ran on a “drain the swamp” campaign, after all.) Mulder’s bewilderment here is old and tired, even by 2015 standards. 

This writing is flashy-- long sentences, quick back-and-forths-- but poorly constructed and badly executed. 

This is also the first segment where David Duchovny is peeking through Fox Mulder; where Scully is swinging wildly between absolutely-fine-with-Mulder and we’re-no-longer-together; and where we, the audience, are being force-fed that only one side of the political aisle believes in aliens-- or the Bigger Question or whatever-- on a show that wants to poke at unfounded conspiracy beliefs.

Oh, look! Scully made a Scully-face, so everything’s good now! 

(UuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH--)

Sveta. Aww, I like her--

“You don’t remember me.”

“No, I think I’d remember.”

WHAT WAS THAT. 

Show writers, STOP with the romantic triangulation, it’s NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN. David doesn’t even TRY to make that romantic-ish. Yet you angle on Scully’s face as if she’s supposed to be out-of-the-loop and a tinge jealous. 

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, hoooooooooooooooooooold up. 

Svetta was a dark-haired little girl Mulder interviewed after her first abduction, meaning she’s set up to be another Samantha. 

So…………………. What’s with the murky jealousy issue, CHRIS. You wedged it in solely so Scully would feel jealous over Mulder? Y’know. Like I Want to Believe? 

And I say Chris Carter because he wanted to play the breakup angle:

"We do it in an interesting way," Carter told The Hollywood Reporter. "We put some of the tension back in that was relieved by them being together. It added to the storytelling opportunities. It's something that I came up with; I had been thinking about it. There was always talk of [breaking them up] if we did another movie."

The first shot canon takes right between the eyes:

Scully being “familiar” with the “screen memories” abductees are given was a cool touch… except she’s never been given “screen memories.” The abductees in Jose Chung’s From Outer Space were given screen memories-- she was returned a blank slate. (Even Mulder didn’t have “screen memories” after his abduction.) 

Scully poking Sveta about aliens taking her unborn fetuses seems a tad (heh) strong except all the alien-related pregnancies have been the result of government testing, not alien probes. So. If this scene followed canon's rules, her skepticism would be warranted.

But this skepticism is still odd. 

Two seconds ago, she was making nice to Tad O’Malley in the car, and now she’s leading the questioning for Sveta. The odd icing on top of this odd cake is that Scully left because she didn’t want UFOs to have a stranglehold on her life, yet here she is leading an interview with an abductee.

Sveta: “I have alien DNA, for sure.”

Scully: “Have you had a doctor confirm that?”

Sveta: “No.”

Me, too, Mulder. Me, too. 

Scully doesn’t question the alien DNA bit, so that’s good. 

…I’ll bet everyone forgets she and Mulder have a bit lingering in their systems from the black oil and his brain thingy and residue from when she touched the ship and and and. 

“Something you can test. Dana.” 

What… what was that. 

Honestly, what was that. Whatever mood David was conveying through Mulder, it didn’t match anything from any previous scenes, let alone this one.

Is he poking at Scully? Why? He’s not jealous anymore (if he even was.) The way he says it and her expression in response implies they have a tense back-and-forth going on, but they don’t. THEY DON’T. 

We’re 13 minutes in and I could make another numerical list. But I won’t. Yet.  

Back to not-Obiwan Kenobi and Military Man. 

That alien’s stupid bad-looking. 

Wait. 

That’s not how canon said Roswell unfolded. 

And the first alien shot on Earth was by Deep Throat’s hands-- that was his whole turning-point backstory. 

CURSE YOU, LACK OF A SHOW BIBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

(Note from the future: All of that past canon? Fake. Faked. All lies. None of that happened.)

“What have you done??” Not-Obiwan Kenobi yells… and what have they done? 

Back to Scully and Sveta. 

Sveta can move things with her mind-- not all the time-- but at least Scully is listening to her claims without automatically shutting them down. 

But also…

“I can move things. With my mind,” should have IMMEDIATELY had a greater impact on Scully, up-close-and-personal as she was to her son’s abilities. But nope! No reaction! Of course! 

Sveta “You were together but now you’re not” is asking the right questions. I don’t even mind Sveta. I’ll bet this episode’s the last time we see her, though. 

Does she contribute to anything? No. But she’s nice, so. 

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT, WAIT, WAIT. 

Scully diagnosed-- wait, hold up, list time. 

Scully diagnosed Mulder with depression. 

That killed their relationship. 

…THAT killed their relationship? After everything? 

The writers are going to have to explain, in detail, why that killed it. 

Why does canon need to explain? Because we have a history of Scully sticking by Mulder during the worst periods of both their lives-- leaving him would have to require a very, very good reason.

And there is no indication, thus far, that Mulder’s depression drove a humungous wedge between them, forcing her to walk away. In fact, there is no indication a wedge exists between them, AT ALL-- only the odd, inconsistent word or phrase here or there that bears no weight on the plot or their ultimate decisions.

Whenever Scully left in canon, it was because she could no longer help Mulder. Season 11 will rewrite Season 10’s initial explanation but setting that aside: we’re not given any indication that she did try to help him; or that his depression was so deep and so dangerous that it drove her away.

And if it were that deep or that dangerous enough to drive her away, Scully leaving would have been the last and worst possible action she could have taken. If Mulder's mental state was in such a massive nose-dive that she couldn’t handle what he was going through, Scully-- a medical professional-- would have had him hospitalized, even temporarily against his will, because she would know (per Demons or Gethsemane or Amor Fati) that this level of depression always manifested in suicidal tendencies for her partner.

But Mulder, as per the rules laid out in this episode, never went that far in his deterioration. (Note from the future: We'll get to that.)

If he had, Skinner would have been aware of his hospitalization and wouldn’t have asked for his help; Scully would have been aware and wouldn’t have passed on the information; and Scully wouldn’t have called from the hospital with a degree of buoyancy when relaying Skinner's request to Mulder. 

In short: Scully leaving = very big, very drastic measure. Mulder suffering from depression = very big, very bad consequences. Scully's nature and past actions = getting Mulder help, even if he resists at first (i.e. shooting him in the shoulder to save his life.) Mulder and Scully's partnership = unbroken, except through distrust or botched writing.

“And you have a child together.”

Wow, that wasn’t clunky at all. 

SCULLY STICKS SVETA HARD WITH A NEEDLE BECAUSE SVETA MENTIONS WILLIAM, darkly saying "That's enough", SO SVETA WOULD KNOW SHE DID IT ON PURPOSE.

I’m… so disgusted. Like, eck. Urk. Awful. 

Telling Sveta to back off, strongly, would be in-character; USING PAIN TO DO SO is…. So wrong on so many levels. Scully never utilized medicine to inflict pain or injury on her enemies.

Wow, this grossed me out. You know why?

Scully diagnosed Mulder with depression and left. At first glance, that seem like an out-of-character action that the writing can salvage later by this or that means.

BUT THEN, Scully inflicts pain on Sveta for mentioning William, leaving the audience with the impression that she’s vindictive. 

Which then connects the dots between “vindictive” and “left Mulder when he was diagnosed with depression.”

And since we, the audience, haven’t been given a stronger reason for how Mulder’s depression got that bad or why she didn’t help him through it, we’re then left with a sour impression of Scully’s character. 

The writers then try to imply Sveta was spilling out Scully’s personal secrets to prove that her powers were real, but that still doesn’t give Scully the right to abuse her power. Especially because a traumatized woman was trying any method possible to be believed.

And the fact that Sveta is also victim of the government weaponizing science and medicine makes me even angrier at Scully.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, BOY, another helicopter outside the Unremarkable House, my favorite part of IWTB....

Mulder’s never seen… an alien replica vehicle. 

Oh, my mistake: “No. Never. Not like that.” Covering all the bases, I see. Y’know, in case the writers FORGOT MULDER SAW ONE in SEASON 1, EPISODE 2. 

OH, LOOK, he’s got his wonder face back, everything’s aaaaaaaaaaaaall better now!

Running on free energy they’ve had since the 40s, sure Jan. Whatever you say. 

This just feels so old. Like. Tech we haven’t had since the 40S, GUYS, GET IT, BIG MONEY CORPOS KEPT IT FROM US. Yeah, we got it. 

And the flashbacks to Not-Obiwan Kenobi just walking off with an alien corpse because Military Man didn’t… see… value in studying… it. I guess. 

Scully doing “God’s work” giving kids ears because their biology neglected it.

I admit, that’s an intriguing window into her perspective of God vs. science, and how she sees a person’s biology separate from God messing them over or messing them up just because. I dig it.

(Note from the future: This will be used as a plotline club rather than a nuanced discussion of her faith.)

Mulder being the most challenging relationship she’s ever had-- “and the most impossible”-- is a weird line. Because yes, it’s true that their relationship is challenging; but her fervor at impossible is the only time in this episode we see an adversarial tendency, DESPITE My Struggle I trying to drum up moments to prove TENSIONS still LINGER (they don't.) 

It’s IWTB all over again. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

“Yeah. I got that impression.” Tad says, and Scully’s hurt because she thinks Mulder gave Tad that impression of her. 

So. So. Wait. 

Scully lied when she stated “It’s impossible” because she didn't like Tad poking into her private affairs?

But she sounded truly convinced their relationship was "impossible" while saying it.

So, she was either angry or still confused about her emotions-- which is fine, Scully's not always in-tune with her inner workings-- when Tad replied, "I got that impression."

Which explains why she was so hurt at Mulder's seeming rejection.

Because she thinks Mulder’s behavior led Tad to that conviction.

Which means CC just wants Mulder and Scully to be caught in a miscommunication fic.

Also, why is Tad so sad about this? Were they his OTP, or is he pretending to sympathize to get in Scully’s pants? Because that’d be crummy, Chris, to have her be overly nice to Tad only for him to try to twist that into an opening as the new conspiracy guy on the block. 

On a lighter note, Chris Carter said Mulder and Scully could still get it in their 50s, so there’s that.

HE DID, HE DID SET SCULLY UP TO BE PURSUED BY TAD--

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT--

KNOCK IT OFF, CHRIS. 

Poor Sveta. She’s gonna be butchered in this script, isn’t she?

The series is EATING up vast amounts of time with very little scale or grounding. For all I know, a day or a week could have passed. 

It’s so, so badly paced. 

Mulder’s investigating now, without Scully, because he noticed Sveta had a tell during the interview. 

Um. 

Sure, that’s a Mulder thing to do.

Oh, wait. This is the “work of men” realization.   

The dialogue between Mulder’s questions and Sveta’s answers are really disjointed, as if they’re mildly talking past each other-- another aspect of IWTB I couldn’t stand. 

Welp, at least it’s easy to prove they were both written by the same people. 

The second shot-in-the-head for canon: 

“Sveta, who took your babies?” 

“Men.”

“Men? Humans? You saw their faces.” 

Also, Sveta’s babies are referred to as her babies, but William-Jackson isn’t Scully’s baby despite sharing half her DNA but Emily Sim was Scully’s baby despite also only sharing half her DNA.

It’s a mess. 

Well… Mulder doesn’t seem too surprised here that men were involved in her abductions (I mean, he's long since been aware the government was involved from day one, so.) It’d be really stupid if the writing made him surprised about this later, wouldn’t it?

…Wouldn’t it?

Another poorly constructed set of lines:

“I haven’t worked for them [the government] in years.” 

“But you always wondered… if they were lying to you, too.” 

No, he didn’t wonder-- he believed it.

A wonky way to address his old skepticisms, for sure. 

JUST AFTER I NOTED THAT MULDER DIDN’T LOOK SURPRISED AT SVETA'S REVELATION, HE CALLS UP SCULLY AND MAKES A BIG DEAL ABOUT IT BEING A CONSPIRACY OF MEN. 

I knew this was coming, but maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan that was so, so poorly handled.

SCULLY WAS GETTING (sort of) WINED AND DINED BY TAD O’MALLEY??????????????

I HATE IT HERE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WHAT IS HAPPENING, WHAT IN THE WORLD AND WHY, HOW COULD YOU BE SO EASILY FLEECED, DANA, THIS ISN’T AN ED JERSE PARALLEL BECAUSE YOU THINK MULDER DOESN’T WANT YOU, THIS IS STUPID, THIS IS THIS IS THIS IS

WHAT. 

I thought Scully had dated Tad O’Malley in the past (sometime after the breakup) but this is worsefarworse. 

SVETA IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING, I’M SO TIRED. 

“Mulder, where are you going?” sounds exactly like Scully, and now I’m mad Gillian didn’t use that voice for the rest of the show (voice recovery aside....)

I KNEW SKINNER WAS BEHIND GETTING THEM BACK. He just calls up Scully to call Mulder up, then just unlocks the old office when Mulder wants to get back in. 110% Skinner thought this would help his buddy Mulder. And he’s not wrong. 

Wait. 

Did Skinner put in more effort to save Mulder from his mental health struggles (per this My Struggle I episode) than Scully??????

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-- my brain is broken. 

The hold on Skinner’s face while he says “Can you tell me what this is about” was way too long. 

Also, don’t try to play coy with me, Skinman. 

Now the camera’s zooming around and losing its “X-Files” feel by being too… modern. 

Skinner telling Mulder to calm down is the only time in canon where I agree with him. Mulder’s just spouting and demanding and not really making clear sense and this is why you don't let Mulder back into his basement without Scully by his side, Skinner-- don’t you remember that lesson?

Skinner telling Mulder to calm down then saying he doesn’t take orders from him only for Mulder to say “Who do you take orders from?”, ugh.

GUYS, THIS WAS RESOLVED IN SEASON. 2. BECAUSE MULDER KNEW MEN WERE BEHIND THE CONSPIRACY SINCE SEASON 1, EPISODE 2; AND SKINNER SINCE SEASON 2, EPISODE ASCENSION.

BECAUSE SKINNER’S ALREADY HAD HIS LOYALTY TESTED AND THIS IS HURTING MY BRAIN MAKE IT END.

I’m not even 25 minutes into this, help. 

“Why do you think I called you? Because I was looking out for you, because I’ve always looked out for you.” Is… is Skinner the only character who’s progressed? That’s exactly what he would do-- he’s acting sensibly, rationally, and in-character... and more mature, more veteran, than his agents.

I know the Revival is supposed to be “Mulder and Scully all grown-up” but none of their actions have been intelligent, measured, or informed by their age or life experience. It’s a farce that I hope future episodes will rectify. 

“A decade of my life--” Mulder rants and kicks his poster like a toddler AND YOU KNEW ALL THIS INFORMATION FROM SEASON 1, MULDER. NONE OF THIS IS NEW. WWWWWWWWWWWWWWHAT IS THIS. 

I can’t imagine how disappointed philes were when they tuned into this episode. Well... I can because of how I feel; but at least I knew, roughly, how bad it would be going in. 

This is worse. 

Skinner: “You’re blaming me for that?”

Mulder: “No, I’m blaming myself. I’m sure they lied to you, too.” 

This isn’t a revelation, chump. 

At least Skinner confirms my theory: “There hasn’t been a day since you’ve left that I haven’t reached for my phone to call you, Mulder, wishing you were still down here.” 

Feral Mulder is touched. 

“Since 9/11--” OH NO, WHY ARE WE GOING THERE “--this country’s taken a big turn and in a very strange direction.”

Guys. Guys. This isn’t… this… what. 

“Now they police us, spy on us, and tell us that makes it safer--” CAN THE WRITERS GET OFF A SOAP BOX FOR FIVE SECONDS. Of course it isn’t safer to be unnecessarily policed or spied on, but the answer isn't just "boo, the government!" What… why… my brain’s melting, I feel it deteriorating. 

This, again, feels so Bush-era. Like, whoever wrote this didn’t update their mentality. 

Also, the camera shots and cuts are weird. Holding too long, zooming out at “pause and take THAT in” moments, focusing on Mulder’s phone while he silently calls up Skinner to prove a point… it’s supremely unsubtle.

Back to Tad, I don’t care. You did this to yourself, Scully, cozying up only to be used as a name drop on his show. Stupid. 

Is Scully gonna be shocked she has alien DNA? She shouldn’t be. 

But then again, Mulder shouldn’t be shocked this has all been a work of men, so. 

She’s expecting-- no, hoping-- for a call from somebody named Mulder. 

Sure, they’re broken up with hard feelings. Sure. Absolutely. 

Is this old man Not-Obiwan Kenobi?  

Of course.

At least Mulder seems old hat at this informant business. 

But of course, he’s “not even close” to putting it all together. 

Stupid. 

WAIT.

The countdown was WRONG-- Mulder states it began, not ended in 2012, meaning he's believed this theory for some time. Meaning... why was he so depressed after 2012? Why are there still depression concerns in 2015?? Seriously, what's with his depression if the 2012 Colonization was allegedly the cause of it but there is no Colonization and the clock's simply been reset????

WHY WAS HE DEPRESSED IF HE RECONFIGURED THE COUNTDOWN. WHAT.

Mulder: "Not by aliens, not with aliens, but by a conspiracy of men--"

“You’re wasting my time.” Tell him, old man Not-Obiwan Kenobi!

“Ten years ago, you came to me--”

Wait, ten years ago? What, 2005? The guy showed up while Mulder was on the run? And Scully never… knew about this?

There were no aliens lighting each other on fire??????????????????? WAIT, I NEVER HEARD THIS INFORMATION. 

THERE WERE NEVER ALIENS, AT ALL???????????????????? Like, AT ALL????? 

The writers are saying that Scully's experience on Ruskin Dam in Season 5 was not two warring alien factions BUT TWO GROUPS OF MEN LIGHTING EACH OTHER ON FIRE, OR GIVING EVERYONE FALSE MEMORIES OF ALIENS LIGHTING EACH OTHER ON FIRE, OR...??????

hONESTLY. 

Let's be real specific for a second: Chris Carter expects us to believe that the ENTIRE mytharc from the original show was ALL faked; that there were no aliens, ZERO, ZILCH; and that CSM and Deep Throat and all the others created elaborate schemes JUST to manipulate MULDER because the aliens weren't a threat from the start????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? DON’T BELIEVE YOUR LYING EYES. THEY WERE ALL MEN IN SUITS.

Like… do you realize how stupid that is? How actually, unfathomably stupid that is? It’s not just “the aliens didn’t invade because of global warming,” no, it’s “they were never a problem to begin with, we just manipulated Mulder into believing they were because… because he’s so important, I GUESS.”

Roswell’s also a smokescreen, of course. 

Y’know how, during the 90s, DD thought The X-Files was a stupid sci-fi show? If he thought each mytharc plot was as bad as this one, no wonder he wanted to bail. 

Oh, by the way, the global warming explanation is part of a theory: the fascist elites will dominate the world and escape from consequences into space, leading the rest of humanity to die by a globally warmed planet. The aliens weren't chased off by global warming because they were never a factor to begin with.

Wow.

I CAUGHT A CONTINUITY ERROR!

Scully shows up at his place in her uniform from yesterday, panicked, like she’d just run from Tad’s side to see what happened despite her saying over a day has passed.

Going to ignore his “What are you doing here, Scully?” because we’ve ping-ponged back to the out-of-character Mulder that the writers use when it’s time to remind everyone he and Scully are broken up. 

It’s IWTB all over again, I’m so tired. 

They’re talking past each other and he’s touching her shoulders now because he needs her to trust him and yadda yadda yadda. 

It’s soooo, sooooo, soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo highschool, I’m sorry. This is Riverdale. This is [insert whatever teen series you want to watch.] These are teenagers masquerading as adults, for the angst.

None of this holds up, their emotions shift left and right without provocation, things just happen, and there is no strand of continuity stringing anything together.

Scully trying to talk Mulder down from further pursuit doesn’t make sense because, AGAIN, she’s the one who's always gone back to the files even when he walks away; and every time he’s given up, or wanted to, SHE'S called him back and held him accountable and kept him going. 

This is the Scully from IWTB with no gumption of her own, who denies her leaps forward because of plot, plot, plot. 

Guys, I’ve been religiously dosing myself with caffeine (via chocolate), but my body keeps trying to make me go to sleep because it’s so uninvested. I don't even need sleep.

“This is my life, this is, this is everything I believe in--” HOW. MANY. TIMES. Has he said this before. WHEN HAS THAT LINE EVER WORKED ON SCULLY.

But that's beside the point: "this" was no longer his life after Amor Fati, by his own choice. Closure brought him closure, but he was already spittin' walk-away talk by Requiem, chose to leave in Vienen, and insisted Scully stay gone in Alone. In Season 9, it was Scully who had to beg him into hiding to pursue the Truth or whatever; and it was Scully who brought him the case in IWTB and Scully who relayed Skinner's request and tagged along both times until she got uncomfy and decided never mind, too hard.

Y’know? This claim gets to me because it’s a lie. A lie so blatant that 90s Mulder would have thrown hands over it, a lie so baseless that it erases his declaration in the hallway:

“I don’t know if I want to do this alone. I don’t even know if I can.” And every time Mulder yells his “THIS IS MY LIFE”, he erases that part of his past, the part that willingly left the files or the big Truth or the next chase to save Scully’s life or to keep her by his side. 

Chris Carter said Mulder and Scully were The X-Files post The Truth… but I guess he keeps conveniently forgetting that. More accurately, he keeps making MULDER forget that, in spite of all evidence in Mulder’s history and personality to the contrary. 

It infuriates me. 

“Tad O’Malley is a charming man--” get outta here. 

Now Scully’s been played the fool so she’s going to think Mulder’s being toyed around with by a social media sociopath. You’re an idiot, Scully. 

You’re an idiot, Mulder. 

You expect us to be idiots, writers. 

Here’s some ham-fisted “Fate” dialogue for you, *ahem*:

Scully: “How do you know he’s not playing you, he’s a player!” (You would know, Scully.) 

Mulder: “He’s a Godsend!”

Mulder’s not a believer in God, BUT this is also supposed to refer to the God conversation Scully and Tad had in the hospital, which will inadvertently make Scully ~believe~ again.

“What are you talking about?” I’m with ya there, Scully. I’m with ya, there. 

Scully’s trying to insist Mulder's on a verge of a breakdown, which… UGH. 

This scene implies Mulder hasn’t had a breakdown or a break from reality YET-- Scully spends the episode constantly concerned for his health and begging him, here, to watch what where he's stepping because he’s on the verge of spiraling. 

Which means he hasn't spiraled, because she's afraid of what would happen to him IF he did.

MEANING that there wasn’t an inciting factor that made her leave: no alcoholism, no outbursts, no nothing. He just became depressed, probably withdrawn, and wouldn’t change; so, she left. 

Do you realize what that means, per this episode? It means Scully ANTICIPATED a breakdown and left BEFORE it happened. Then hoped he’d get better before it did. 

Which breaks the established morals of her character. If she had been able to help, she would have stayed. If she hadn’t been able to help, she would have found another way to help him, even if it involved calling in a third party against his will. Instead, she withdrew and hoped he would get better BEFORE he reached a breaking point-- essentially, leaving him to an impending breakdown while hoping and praying against it.

This makes her decision to leave a mark of weak character-- not because she was a woman who left her depressed husband, but because Dana Scully, whose character we amply know, left. It checks none of the boxes she'd have to clear first before choosing to take one step out the door.

All the fic I’ve read to justify their breakup-- and make no mistake, CC wrote her to say “as your friend” intentionally--  or time apart or whathaveyou had Scully reach a breaking point. Because, of course! That's logical. But here, in canon-- in black and white-- that didn’t happen. 

We, the audience, have to create a plausible scenario in our minds to justify the steps she took. Because. it. Is. not. In. canon (as per this episode.) 

Now Scully’s gonna get jealous of Sveta, I’m so done. Riverdale, uuuuuuuuugh. 

Mulder just lets Scully walk away because Scully thinks he wants Sveta but “Sveta is the key to everything” and if Scully wants to misunderstand that she should have more trust in him, I guess, and I NEED A RESPIRATOR.

He just says “Scully” once  and lets her huff off.  

TAD’S BACK, GO AWAY. 

WAIT, TAD STOPS HER BEFORE SHE LEAVES. 

Mulder: “I would have invited you, Scully, but I didn’t think you would come.” 

That’s…

That’s….

Let’s break down this stupidity: 

Scully shows up. 

Mulder had Sveta in the house because he was calling her and O'Malley for a group meeting. 

When Scully becomes nearly hysterical over his safety, he doesn’t reason with her, just spouts like a lunatic. 

When she misreads the Sveta situation and stomps off, he lets her go with a weak, “Scully"--

--because he knew Tad was right behind her and was pulling in to stop her from leaving. 

Because Tad and Sveta were invited but Scully was not. 

And Scully was not invited because.  

Because she might not show up. 

I’m just preaching to the choir at this point, continuing on. 

Scully gave in, just like that. Guess she’s not leaving, anymore. 

She’s so, so… spineless. Has been since Season 9, has been a BIT since Season 8 (though that was at least justified and kept to a bare minimum.) 

I’m just. So sick of passive Scully. 

I HATE THOSE STINGER NOISES NOW. 

It’s always, “You can't let this information out because these men work in secrecy”/”What is it?”/”You’ll see”; then stinger; then we, the audience, are immediately shown what it is.

No suspenseful build-up.

Tad: “Then why are you [Scully] here?”/”Scully: “Mulder, what are you up to?”/Mulder: *knowing look*/stinger/next scene.

KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY.

“Implanting of alien embryos”-- so Sveta’s babies weren’t her babies. 

So Scully’s baby wasn’t her baby. 

But Emily was her baby but William isn’t. 

Sure, Jan. 

In spite of this information, the Revival will paint William as their son until it doesn’t; despite, again, stating from day one that the alien babies are implanted embryos and not biological babies.

So, these two boneheads should have suspected that William wasn’t theirs, anyway. 

Even though William is theirs because the CSM timeline doesn’t add up, which they would have mathed in their heads by the time little William was snuggled in their arms. 

It’s all so stupid. 

Why does this feel so fearmongery about the government? And I’m not going to sit here and say the government should be trusted-- it has a VERY bad history, I'm aware. But this is “my first conspiracy” level of worldbuilding.  

Did the writers think it was clever to set O’Malley up as a bad actor then reveal he was a good actor, modeling him after the notorious Alex Jones only to point and jeer, “HAH, you assumed! He’s actually on Mulder’s side!” 

Because that’s not genius, that’s laziness. 

Scully only now decides to inform everyone Sveta has no evidence of alien DNA? So, what, she was never going to tell them unless Mulder kept being, what, crazy? 

“They got to her” says Mulder about Sveta, but Scully LITERALLY SAID she had no alien DNA, so what was Sveta supposed to believe???????? That Tad O'Malley wasn't using her for as a hoax???

Mulder ran all the way to her house, or ubered then ran, or whatever… and she’s gone, of course. 

Poor Sveta. 

Tad O’Malley’s Truth Site is gone, oh, noooooo. 

Look, I’ll always be against censorship. But this is sending so many odd and mixed signals that it’s creating craaaaaaaaaaaaazy levels of dissonance. 

Mulder wrote “Don’t Give Up” in Scully's car dust…. 

Riverdale. 

Mulder presents the global warming = no aliens theory? 

I’m so tired. 

WAIT, SCULLY BELIEVES MULDER'S THEORY NOW THAT HER BOY TAD’S BEEN PULLED OFF THE NETWORK. 

“We need to find her [Sveta], Mulder,” Scully insists. 

Hold on, prediction time: Scully only changed her mind because this case now involves her-- i.e. only extending empathy to Christian (a boy that reminded her of William) and not to the string of missing, possibly murdered, women in IWTB.

OF COURSE. Her results for Sveta ended up being wrong AND HER OWN GENOME HAS ALIEN DNA IN IT, TOO. 

You selfish, self-centered clone of Dana Scully. 

Scully truly hasn’t recovered since… Season 9, let’s be real, where she told Mulder to leave then spent the whole year crying over his absence. In IWTB, she brought Mulder a case then left him when he wouldn’t stop his pursuit (to SAVE. LIVES.) And in the Revival, she called Mulder and the gang crazy until her own genome showed alien DNA. 

Hate this, hate this, HATE this. 

Also, yeah, she already knew she had alien DNA in the OG series, moving on.

Oh, and now they get a call from Skinner just when Scully says someone has to stop the bad guys. 

OF COURSE. 

Remember the God convo from earlier, guys???? GOD. FATE. SOMETHINGSOMETHINGSOMETHING. 

You had ONE good idea to explore-- how Scully views God vs. the aberrations of biology-- and then just... used it as a convenient club to beat in the “God/Fate means for us to do this” instead. 

“Scully, are you ready for this?”

“I don’t know there’s a choice.” 

Can’t someone PLEASE just explore her faith with nuance? PLEASE? 

Sveta's DEAD???????? I’M SO MAD, I liked her!

YOU FAILED HER, SCULLY. 

YOU FAILED MULDER, SCULLY. 

WHY DOES SCULLY HAVE TO KEEP FAILING PEOPLE???????????? 

Skipping the CSM scene because I don’t care, the END. 

CONCLUSION

How does Scully’s mischaracterization keep reaching new lows? 

How does Mulder become less wise with age? 

How is Skinner the only mentally mature character here?

I’m so tired.

[withyouwithoutthem]

Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) Ellie Williams

Modern College AU. Dealer!Ellie x F!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Ellie find themselves locked in a room together they’re forced to face the misunderstanding that occurred between them three years prior. Reader isn’t ready to let it go, but Ellie is willing to persuade her otherwise. 

WC: 9.5k Buckle up, it’s a long one.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!! consumption of alcohol, smoking marijuana, brief description of reader’s outfit, mentions of divorced parents and foster care, ANGST, mutual pining, reader and ellie are both idiots, ellie being a little manipulative, SMUT, fingering and oral sex (r recieving)

A/N: i got super stoned last night and considered not posting this. second half is NOT proof read and feels a bit rushed. it's also very different from anything else i’ve written and i don’t know how i feel about it. initially i didn't intend for it to be this long (like 18 pages in gdocs, might be overkill) but it seems i don’t know how to write anything that’s not shakespearean in length, so sincere apologies. are people even into fics this long? i know i am but thats not the point. first time smut writer soooo that was fun! remember that feedback is always highly appreciated as well as like and reblogs! enjoy!!

You had dragged yourself to the party tonight in hopes of easing the heaviness that had settled in your stomach following the news delivered by your father that morning. It was hardly an appropriate conversation to have over the phone, yet your father could not give you the luxury of speaking about  it in person. His words had been pinging around in your head all day, so when your roommate and best friend, Dina, brought up the idea of going to a party— you jumped at it with no questions asked.

Getting ready had been a small distraction for the time being, the notion of getting all “prettied up” for the night seeming good enough. Pregaming with a couple shots of tequila each had you feeling a new kind of sexy as you did your makeup; black eyeshadow skillfully smudged around your eyes in a tasteful wing, a light layer of glitter swiped across your lids. You’d dressed yourself in your favourite pair of jeans—the ones that hugged your ass in the best way— and a black open back top. 

You and Dina were both a giggling mess on the bus ride over to the frat, earning a fair share of odd glances from a few of the other patrons. Had you not been buzzed already, you would have felt embarrassed and maybe even apologized to those around you, but alcohol was buzzing in your veins on the track to having a fun night out.

The music could be heard from outside the frat house, but as soon as the two set foot through the doorway, it pumped right through their chests, leaving them with a buzz different from the alcohol. Sweaty bodies packed together tightly throughout the main floor, spilling out into the backyard where the party continued. In the kitchen they found the counter littered with bottles of booze and plenty of snacks— which you had learned not to touch the hard way, when you caught a god-awful stomach bug during first year. 

Dina’s eyes scanned the labels, fingers dancing overtop the bottles as she searched for one in particular, “Aha!” She exclaimed, “This’ll do.”

“Dina, there’s like seven different bottles of whiskey. It’s all the same.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dina shook her head, pouring a shots worth into the two plastic cups you set out. “This is the good stuff, no wonder they had it at the back.”

You didn’t have a chance to see the label, and couldn’t find yourself caring about the brand as you clinked your cup against Dina’s, sending your friend a wink before throwing the shot back. Dina had been right, this was the good stuff; smooth but smokey, warming your chest on the way down yet still sent shivers up your spine. 

The pair were quick to down a second one, and it wasn’t long before the girls found themselves being joined by their friends Jesse and Kate. They celebrated their arrival with a third before mixing their fourth with some semi-flat ginger ale they’d found. Dina had managed to convince you, who wasn’t much of a dancer, to join her where the mass of sweaty bodies moved in tandem with the music pulsing through them. 

You stood behind Dina, a hand on her hip as she slightly swayed side to side. The girl in front of you seemed to let the music consume her, dancing back onto her friend unaware of the attention she attracted from those around them. A sheen layer of sweat began to perspire on your back, hair sticking to the exposed skin. The heat of the room and the alcohol bubbling in your veins had you loosening up, but as Dina encouraged her to dance more freely— you knew you’d need another drink to do so. 

“I’ll be back! Gonna get another drink.” you spoke into Dina’s ear, who smiled and turned to dance with Jesse and Kate.

Back in the kitchen, you grabbed a new cup and searched for the bottle of whiskey Dina had stashed away again. You were bumped from behind as you poured the shot, more of it ended up spilled on the counter than in the cup. You cursed and grabbed a rag from the sink to wipe it up. As you moved to bring the cup up to your mouth, you found yourself stopping once it touched your lips, catching sight of who stood just outside the sliding doors. 

Ellie Williams.

Dressed in black jeans and a white tank top with an unbuttoned red and brown flannel overtop, Ellie Williams stood with a small group on the back deck, occasionally smoking off a joint as it made its rounds. Even though Ellie no longer attended school, she was still the resident weed dealer on campus, and had quite the reputation for not only how good her stuff was, but also how quickly she made her way through the school's population of queer women. 

The two of you had been friends once, meeting through your mutual friend, Dina. You had developed a certain fondness for Ellie during the times you found yourselves together. Ellie’s quick witted responses and terrible jokes made you laugh even when nobody else found them funny. It was Ellie’s little touches here and there that had your skin buzzing with a fire that couldn’t be put out; grabbing your elbow to pull you back from crossing the street when you weren’t paying attention, interlocked fingers in crowded spaces, and a soothing hand on your back that time you emptied your stomach onto some poor ladies flower garden during homecoming week.

Ellie’s voice often had your stomach doing somersaults—low and raspy during morning classes, knowing the auburn haired girl had probably only rolled out of bed fifteen minutes prior. Silky smooth in the late hours of the night, where on occasion you found yourself sitting alone with Ellie in Dina’s living room long after she retired to bed. You would be buzzing with a high courtesy of Ellie’s weed paired with whatever alcohol you’d drank that night. Ellie would be speaking at no more than a murmur, flirty remarks falling past her lips that had you scooting to sit closer. Heart pounding in your chest at the feeling of Ellie’s body pressed against your side. Though, when it came to Ellie, it was hard to know whether or not the words coming out of her mouth held any merit. She was a serial flirt afterall. 

You two grew close, no longer needing Dina with them as an excuse to hangout. By then, your fondness for Ellie had grown into a full-blown crush. Ellie’s touchy side had become more apparent the more you hung out, always touching you in some way; whether it be a hand on your knee under the table while surrounded by friends, a hand in your back pocket while walking, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered. It had even gone so far as a heated makeout on your couch. Ellie had insisted on walking you home after leaving Dina’s apartment, it was late and upon arriving at your place the two of you realized they didn’t want the night to end. 

It was under the orange glow of streetlights that you admired each other for what felt like an eternity. You took notice that the scar in Ellie’s right eyebrow that she’d always hide with her bangs was out in the open for the world to see. The freckles that littered her cheeks and nose were more noticeable in your close proximity, and you could just make out a small fleck of brown in Ellie’s green eyes. Just as you opened your mouth to invite Ellie inside, hand reaching out to trace a finger along the scar in her eyebrow did the auburn-haired girl quickly surge forward, moulding your lips together in a gentle yet somewhat sloppy kiss. 

You were buzzing, alight with so many feelings that all you could do was grab at Ellie with greedy hands and fumble backwards into your apartment. Close was not close enough as Ellie led you blindly to your couch, shoes haphazardly strewn in the entryway, accompanied by long forgotten jackets as hands pulled one another tighter. 

This was it, you thought. Solid evidence that the feelings you had for Ellie weren’t one sided, every touch, every locked gaze from across a crowded room, and every sweet endearment shared between you meant something. 

Ellie’s hands were in your hair, tangled in the strands keeping your lips married to each other as you found your place seated in her lap. There was a fire ignited between you two as your hips canted downwards into Ellie for some much needed friction. Ellie gasps into the kiss and you take that as a moment to catch your breath. It’s all droopy eyes and kiss-swollen lips as your eyes meet, giggles falling from both of you at the other's appearance. You’re both filled with such giddiness from heavy makeout. 

You’re playing with the hair at the back of her neck when you smile. “I really like you Ellie.”

It stings to watch her face fall, head slowly reeling back as if to get a better look at you somehow. Too soon is Ellie lifting you off her lap to stand from the couch, placing a fleeting kiss on your cheek and calling out a quick goodnight over her shoulder as she turned and made her way home.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

She’s at the door in the blink of an eye, tugging on her sneakers and grabbing her jacket, “I uh. . . Just remembered that I needed to help Joel out with this super important, uh, thing. Like really early in the morning. Yeah. And it’s pretty late so I should probably head out.”

Your shoulders deflate with the disappointment twisting between your ribs. “Oh, okay. . .” 

Ellie’s wringing her jacket in both her hands, struggling to maintain eye contact with you before she’s turning around and making her exit out your front door. “See ya soon! Goodnight!” She calls out over her shoulder.

That was the last time you spoke to Ellie Williams. 

The next time you saw Ellie—over a week later— she was wrapped up in the tattoo covered arms of a girl with short black hair. Later, Dina informed you that the girl with Ellie was her new girlfriend, Cat.

You were left confused and hurt for a long time after seeing Ellie with Cat, not knowing where along the way things between you two may have gone wrong. Ellie had avoided you and if she wasn’t going to talk, you would do just the same, never seeking out more of an explanation. The hurt and confusion you initially felt had turned to some form of hatred along the way, every time you saw Ellie and Cat it seemed to take over another part of you. At least that’s what you tried convincing yourself, and for some time disguising the feelings of adoration as disgust and hatred did work.

But avoiding each other altogether would be difficult.

Even after Ellie didn’t return to school for second year, and sharing a mutual friend in Dina, you could not seem to shake yourself free of Ellie. It felt like wherever you turned Ellie happened to be close by; whether that be walking on campus, or attending a party like tonight. For Dina’s sake, when you found yourself within unavoidable close proximity to Ellie, you kept things civil despite the slow boil rising in your blood and the pain that festered in your chest.

Ellie and Cat broke up after almost a year of dating, and her other flings never seemed to work for more than a few weeks, at most a couple months which had only happened one other time. You doubted that Ellie had any idea of the humiliation and grief her rejection had caused you.

It was as if Ellie could feel your gaze boring a hole into the side of her head, because in an instant she was turning to look inside where she found you standing at the kitchen counter. Ellie sent a slight smirk your way, continuing conversation with the people standing around her, never once letting her eyes move away from you. The smell of the whiskey suddenly had your stomach twisting unpleasantly when Ellie shot a wink your way, a wave of nausea rolling through you saw the cup  discarded in search for the nearest bathroom.

You skipped trying to find one in the crowded space of the main floor, quickly making your way up the stairs and to the second floor where you found yourself knocking on closed doors in search of an empty room. You had no luck on the second floor either, and dreaded the idea of having to climb another flight of stairs to the third. The only empty room happened to be at the end of the hall, and while it wasn’t a bathroom, the air in the bedroom helped in quelling the nausea, no longer heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth, you sat on the edge of the bed to steady yourself.

You blamed your intoxicated state for the reaction that seemed to spur as a result of the interaction with Ellie from across the kitchen. You thought you’d metabolized the idea that Ellie’s flirting with you had meant nothing and moved on. Having had a fair share of face to face interactions since, but either Dina or Jesse had been there with you.

God, you felt like such an idiot. All you’d done was make eye contact with Ellie and it had you hurtling towards a downward spiral you tried your hardest to stay afloat in. You hadn’t realized the chokehold Ellie seemed to have over you for the three years you’d known each other, and in your drunken state it had not fared well. You’d figured the feeling that grew in your stomach any time you saw Ellie with a new girl had just been disgust. Disgust in not knowing how Ellie could feel good about herself when she rotated through women like they were a picture book. But now, you had some idea that the feeling washing over you had not been disgust on its own, but paired alongside something akin to hurt.

Ellie was the bandaid you hesitated to rip off. 

There was no scale to measure how frustrated she was with herself. No scale to measure her disdain for the Williams girl. Deep down, you knew that she still harboured some feelings for Ellie that couldn't be disguised as hatred.

You must have sat there for a good five minutes, willing yourself to get up and rejoin the party, enjoy yourself and not let Ellie get to you. But you found that something was stopping you from leaving, wanting to stay in the solitude of the bedroom just a little longer. Sending a text to Dina, letting her know you were alright, you laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. 

You were startled awake no longer than fifteen minutes later by the door opening, the sounds of the party filtering into the room for a moment before drowning out again as the door shut. The person's back was to you as they took a deep breath, but you recognized the flannel they wore immediately. Your groan had Ellie turning around to face you fully, lips tipping up into a slight smirk.

“Hey.” Ellie greeted slyly. Hearing your name fall from Ellie’s lips had a flame flickering in your stomach. “Finally found ya.”

Your eyes narrow in Ellie’s direction, annoyance hanging onto your furrowed brows. Standing from the bed, weight shifting from one foot to the other as you think on your next move. You had left downstairs over twenty minutes ago, meaning Ellie had to have run through whether following you was a good idea or not. “So, what? You were lurking, followed me up here.”

“I didn’t follow you. Ran into an ex and needed a breather.” Ellie clarifies, lazily gesturing around the room, “And here we are. . .”

“Yeah, well, I came up here to be alone. You being here is the opposite of that.” came your snarky reply. Ellie would not be spared your hostilities. 

Ellie laughed, brushing her side swept bangs out of her eyes, “I saw the look on your face down there, almost barfed on the poor freshman beside you.” she shrugs her shoulders, “Didn’t see you come back downstairs so I took my chances with all the doors, this was the only one unlocked. Thought you could use someone to hold your hair back.”

“You wanted to help me?” You were baffled. That hot, stuffy feeling begins to creep its way back up your neck the longer Ellie’s presence lingers by the door. The air of confidence that clings to Ellie is suffocating as she stands there, biceps bulging in her flannel as her arms cross over her chest, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Ellie’s green eyes are intense as they hold your gaze; half lidded and filled with something you can’t decipher. 

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m feeling much better now, so if you’ll excuse me.” Making way to the door that Ellie is standing in front of. You hope of being able to make it out of the room before choking on your words—not wanting to say something you’ll inevitably regret. 

Ellie moves in front of the door handle, blocking your seeking grip. You reel back, perplexed that Ellie blocked you. Trying again, you reach around the left of Ellie, but the auburn-haired girl moves with you. Move to the right. So does Ellie.

Stepping back in frustration, your stare is burning, “Move.” You grit.

Ellie lifts her gaze to the ceiling, eyes darting around playfully as she whistles a low tune, rocking back and forth on her feet. She’s messing with you and you know it. Always the jokester, Ellie is never one to take things too seriously.

“Ellie.” You refrain from stomping your foot. Ellie would only tease you relentlessly for acting like such a brat, “Ellie, let me leave.”

A low hum comes from Ellie’s throat, “What’s the magic word?”

No longer wanting to deal with her infuriating presence, you surge forward and push Ellie to the side enough that she’s out of the way. Wrapping your hands around the cool metal of the doorknob is your first lick at freedom, awaiting the moment you step through that door and go home to curl up in bed. You’ll likely wallow in self deprecation, unable to think of anything other than your first interaction alone with Ellie in a while.

Your hope is squashed when the door doesn’t budge. No, this cannot be happening. Twisting the handle again, you give it a good tug, hand slipping off the doorknob as you stumble back a few steps.

“Did you lock it?” You ask Ellie without looking at her.

“No.” Ellie replies, coming to stand closer to you. “Must be jammed.”

You groan, a string of expletives rushing past grit teeth while you jostle the doorknob with all the force as you can muster. You twist and tugs and rattle but the door stays solidly in place, sealing you and Ellie together in the room.

Kicking the door has a laugh slipping past Ellie’s lips. She can’t help but think of how cute you look when frustrated—the pout of lips she just wants to sink her teeth into. The glare from over your shoulder has Ellie coughing to cover her laugh, scratching at her neck and cheeks blazing red like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

You bang your fist against the door in hopes that someone may be able to hear her pleas for help. The chances of that happening in the secluded corner of the third floor is unlikely, but you’d rather take your chances than be stuck in a room with Ellie. “Oh, just fuck me right?” you mumbles to yourself.

Behind you, Ellie fights the urge to respond. 

“Are you gonna help?” you sigh heavily, gesturing towards the door in an exhausted manner.

Ellie’s nodding, eyes dancing around the room for something she can use to try picking the lock. She doesn’t see a screwdriver or a pair of scissors on the desk, and she doubts that the frat boy this room belongs to owns any bobby pins. Ellie moves towards the door in the far corner of the room, opening it to reveal the small ensuite she’d hoped it would be. 

Rummaging through the medicine cabinet is a dead end, as is the first drawer of the vanity. In the second drawer her mission is made successful—finding a small pair of scissors that she waves in the air triumphantly as she passes you.

“There was a bathroom here the whole time. . .” you mutter to yourself in disbelief. 

Ellie drops down to her knees in front of the door, eye level with the small keyhole as she tries jimmying the scissors around. Her tongue is poking out the side of her mouth, one eye squeezed shut in concentration as she tries to unlatch the lock's inner mechanism. Had the circumstance been different, you may have let yourself linger on the thought of how good Ellie looked down on her knees before you. 

Ellie thinks she might have gotten it, but mistakenly looks up at you hovering close by— brows furrowed expectantly, and lips pouted slightly— that she’s fumbling and dropping the scissors while thinking about how much she likes the sight of you above her. She grabs them hastily, returning to her previous task while reminding herself not to look back at your expectant gaze. 

“Have you picked a lock before?” you accuse.

“Uh. . . yeah.”

“Well you’re kinda shit at it.”

“Never said I was any good.” Ellie twists the doorknob just when she thinks she hears the lock click, but it still doesn’t give. 

Standing to her full height, Ellie forgoes trying to pick the lock with the scissors and puts all of her weight into pulling the door open. She grunts as her muscles strain, jostling the handle in the same way you had. Both girls are left wide eyed and stunned when Ellie suddenly staggers back, catching herself before she can fall. A loud and heavy thud draws your eyes to the floor; where the doorknob rolls around at your feet. 

A deafening silence settles over the room as both of you watch it stop rolling. Ellie is the one to bend down and grab it, staring at the broken metal doorknob in disbelief, while your hands shoot to grip your hair.

When both of you realize the gravity of the situation you've found yourselves in together, you’re quick to panic. The headache that blossoms was unrelated to the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed up until that point, and more so due to being stuck in a room with a busted door alongside the one person you tried your hardest to avoid. You eyed the broken off doorknob in Ellie’s hand, tugging at fistfuls of your hair. Ellie groans, head tossed back and eyes shut in annoyance before sitting on the bed.

“Fuck,” Ellie let out a breathy laugh, beginning to toss the doorknob in the air like a baseball. “These old houses are something, huh? Practically falling apart.” 

Holding Ellie’s gaze for a moment as you pull out your phone has a spark of hope flickering, but the screen remains black. Great, stuck in a room with Ellie Williams and your only chance is dead. Tossing your phone on the bed you turn to Ellie. “Dead. What about yours?”

Ellie nods and reaches for where she kept her phone in her back pocket, only to be met with emptiness. She let out a nervous laugh under your intense stare, patting at all her pockets in search of her phone, “I don’t have it on me.”  

You scoff, “Fucking great. Do you think this guy has a charger?” Moving to check the bundle of cords at the single bedside table has you throwing it back onto the floor in frustration when you come up empty handed. “Android.”

“What is it that they say about guys who have Androids. . .” Ellie made an attempt at a joke, but was only met with a glare, watching as you made quick strides towards the window, unlatching the lock and yanking it open.

You looked around outside to see that it was a straight drop down to the ground from the third floor window, no lattice to climb down or shrubs to cushion a fall, “No roof access and it's too far up to jump,” you stated. “Maybe if we just—” you stuck your upper body out the window, flailing your arms, “Hey! Up here! We’re locked in can someone help—”

Ellie was quick to pull you back inside. “Hey, would you stop that? You could have fallen! Everyone outside is too drunk to hear you.”

“Well someone has to be at least partly sober.” Now it was your turn to sit on the bed, head in your hands in a clear display of frustration. Ellie was hesitant to move from where she stood by the window, the feeling of your presence was somewhat suffocating, and she didn’t know what might set you off. 

“Ya know,” Ellie started. “We’re probably gonna be stuck in here for a while, so we could always try to enjoy our time rather than pout our way through it.”

You turned to look at Ellie over your shoulder, weary of what the auburn-haired girl might try suggesting. “And what is it that you have in mind?”

Reaching into her jacket pocket, Ellie produced a bag of pre-rolled joints, shrugging her shoulders in a playful manner. You could only roll your eyes, annoyed over the fact that Ellie managed to keep hold of her weed stash but not her phone. Smoking with Ellie would mean breaking down part of the barrier you had put up between the two of you, something you weren't so sure you were ready to explore quite yet. But, neither of you knew how long you’d be cooped up in that frat boy’s bedroom together, and you found yourself caving.

“Oh fuck it, sure.”

Ellie smiled and walked over to sit beside you, grabbing a single pre-roll and stashing the rest away. She placed the joint between her lips as she fished through the tight front pocket of her black jeans for her lighter. Flicking the lighter a few times to get it going, Ellie inhaled deeply as the end of it began to burn a bright red. She pulled the joint away from her lips as she breathed out the ghosted smoke, holding it out to you. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t smoked in a while—not since dropping your plug for getting too handsy on more than one occasion—and had been too proud to swing by Ellie to make a deal. You knew first hand and from the inner mumblings throughout the student body of just how good Ellie’s stuff was, so whatever was smoked tonight would have you ripped.

Inhaling shortly on the joint, and letting the smoke settle in your lungs before taking another, longer drag. On your second exhale, you sputtered, coughing on the smoke and releasing it in a dense cloud. You continued to cough into the crook of your elbow while passing it back to Ellie whose lips were pulled up into a slight smile.

“Too much?” Ellie teased, taking an easy five second drag.

Shaking your head, you rub at your chest to soothe the mild burning in your lungs, a light laugh falls from you, “Just been a while.”

Ellie gives a nod of her head, leaning back on her right hand to get a better look at you, watching the way hair falls in front of your face as you look down at your lap, or the way you would lightly snap the hair tie around your wrist. 

“Sooo. . .” Ellie brushes her long bangs out of her eyes. “What had you drinking whiskey like it was water?”

You shrugged, seeming to not know what to do with fidgeting hands as you contemplated telling Ellie the truth. Had you been having this conversation in a sober setting, you would have quickly shut down Ellie’s question. But in a hazy state of mind, you find herself letting the words slip easily, “Got a call from my dad today telling me mom filed for divorce after she found out he was fucking the book keeper at work.” you nod at Ellie’s shocked expression, “Yeah. Tried playing the victim card before mom had a chance to tell me herself. She’s better off without him anyway. He was a dick.”

Letting out a loud groan, you’re rubbing at your eyes in frustration as the phone call from that morning replays on a loop. Ellie didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, rather making her way through the foster care system ever since she could remember. Her behavioural issues saw her never being in one place for very long. Instability was something she grew used to at an early age, but she’d often imagine what it would be like to have two functioning parents who loved and adored her. Though she has never experienced family in the way you did— at least, not until Joel had come around— she knew no matter the age, a drastic shift in family dynamic like that wasn’t easy.

“It’s just me and my dad,” Ellie finds herself offering in an attempt at comfort. “Well, he’s not actually my dad. Joel he’s my. . . Joel. Took me in a while back when I found myself in a boatload of trouble, and it’s been the two of us ever since. Oh, and his brother Tommy.”

“And does your. . . your Joel, know that you, ya know, deal drugs to college students?”

“Not just college students, I’ve got some middle aged customers— a lawyer too if you can believe it.” Ellie laughs, and you follow by hiding a smile behind your hand. “But yeah, he knows. Wasn’t too keen on it at first, but the money has helped us through some tough times.”

A stale silence falls over the room, and it has a bitter taste flooding your mouth, saliva gathering under your tongue unpleasantly. Ellie seems so at ease that you wonder if she ever thinks about how things ended. You sure do; though it's lessened over the years, you still hold Ellie on some tightrope of contempt, a terrible balancing act teetering between holding on and letting it all go once and for all.

“I hope you know this changes nothing.” you admit quietly, rolling the joints filter between your thumb and forefinger. “Still don’t like you.”

Ellie looks up at you for a moment and she can feel her heart clench as she takes in your rigid shoulders and determined eyes. Her hand motions for the joint as she nods solemnly, eyes downcast while she takes a long drag. “Yeah I. . . I kinda figured it didn’t.”

As the joint continued to be passed back and forth, you could feel the haziness cloud your mind, eyes glazing over and the only thing you could do was stare at Ellie’s hands. Watching as her nimble fingers grabbed the joint from you, thumb rolling over the filter after she toked off it. How when she wasn’t the one holding the joint, Ellie had to keep her hands busy; whether that be running them over the top of her thighs, playing with the bedding, or watching the tip of her pinky finger turn purple as she wrapped a stray piece of thread around it tightly.

You had been so zoned out watching Ellie you’d almost forgotten about holding the short joint, or that no smoke filled your lungs when trying to take a pull off of it. It wasn’t until Ellie’s hand reached out into focus to grab the joint from you did you snap to it.

“You let it go out. Here,” with the joint now in Ellie’s hands, you watched as she held it between her thumb and middle finger, running the flame of her lighter over the tip of the joint before bringing it up to take a haul, keeping it lit. “There you go, babe.” 

The word must have fallen out of Ellie’s mouth so naturally that she didn’t notice it, but you sure as hell did— brain just about short circuiting. With one last pull off the finished joint, you stand up and make your way to the attached bathroom, turning on the tap and running the smouldering end under water to extinguish it before tossing it in the trash. You bend down to the height of the sink, hands cupped to greedily drink down the cold water to soothe your dry throat. When you stand up to be greeted with your reflection in the mirror— eyes red and glazed over, lids slightly droopy when you’re not pretending that Ellie’s stuff didn’t hit you as hard as it did, cheeks flush from the drinks earlier in the night, you know you’re fucked.

Ellie is standing by the desk on the far wall when you lean on the bathroom doorway, head craned as she scans over the trophies and picture frames decorating the shelves above it. With Ellie facing away, you now have the chance to stare at her unabashedly. Eyes trailing over Ellie’s shoulders, broad yet slim, and muscular arms that flex under her flannel with even the smallest of movements. Down to her taught hips hidden behind her relaxed jeans. Her auburn hair sits in a half up half down bun, and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through the strands; braid it, twirl it, pull it. . .

Your cheeks are burning hot again, but this time the alcohol  can’t be blamed for your flushed appearance. With hands still cold from the running water, pressing them against your cheeks in an attempt to cool off works as well as you’d expect it.

When you catch Ellie’s gaze, you’re tearing your eyes away impossibly fast, busying yourself with making it look like the football poster on the wall is the coolest thing ever, “Ya know, for a frat boys room this is surprisingly well organized.” you comment.

“Yeah, this is Ryan’s room.” Ellie fixes a crooked trophy. “Pretty chill dude.”

Humming, you make herself comfortable on the bed, laying down on the soft pillows. As you adjust yourself, a crackling noise comes from underneath the pillow that has you shifting to reach under to grab it. The last thing you expected to pull out was a mens porn magazine, decked out with a raunchy cover of an oiled up man in a tiny speedo. You let out a yelp as you’re tossing it to the other side of the room, wiping your hand off on your pants.

The yelp catches the attention of Ellie, who whips around concerned, “What?” 

“That!” you exclaim, pointing towards the end of the bed where the magazine sits on the floor. Ellie bends down to pick it up, but you’re calling out in protest, “No, don’t touch it!”

“Oh wow,” Ellie lets out a loud laugh as she scans over the front cover, moving to flop down on the bed beside you.

“Ellie, gross put it down!” 

Ellie leans away from you who tries swatting it out of her grasp. “Hold your horses! I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

You groan, watching as Ellie flips through the pages. You don't think it can get any worse, but page after page proves to be more unpleasant when the next portrait of a man posing with nothing but a scrap of cloth to cover his junk comes up. Your lips are downturned in disgust, but your ears are in tune to the chuckles Ellie lets out at the pictures, and her dramatic reading of the explicitly detailed  little captions. 

The next page is folded in on itself a couple times, falling open when Ellie holds the magazine above your heads, “Oh man! How the hell does he even walk around with that thing?” She exclaims.

You turn your head away, fake gagging. “Dicks are so gross.”

Ellie snorts, “Don’t gotta tell me.” Eyeing your side profile from where your head is ducked into your hands, eyes shut. It’s then that Ellie decides to play a trick on you. “Uh. . .” she begins trailing off, ruffling the pages as if she were flipping through them, “Why are these pages all stuck together?”

Your head whips up to look at Ellie, “Gross!”

The laugh that Ellie lets out is straight from her belly, deep and contagious as she tosses the magazine away. “I’m just messing with you.”

When your eyes meet, Ellie’s hold their usual mischievous glint, slightly narrowed and crinkled at the corners where her smile pushes at them, and yours show nowhere near as much annoyance and malice that’s usually directed towards her. Ellie flips onto her back, hands going behind her head while you stay on your stomach. You’re still laughing quietly at the joke Ellie pulled on you, which has the smile on Ellie’s face pulling even higher as she looks at you, oblivious.

With you laying on your  stomach, Ellie was given a full view of your exposed back. It made the collar of her flannel suddenly feel itchy where it was rubbing against her neck. Ellie could feel the red hot flush that blossomed over her as she pictured teasing her fingers along your back. She could practically feel the shudder you’d let out, hear your complaints of being ticklish.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Ellie is snapped out of her daze when your voice cuts through. 

You’ve got your chin resting on your hand, leaning to the side to look up at Ellie who’s sitting taller. Your legs are bent at the knee, legs swaying in the air. The look in your eyes is smouldering; lids droopy as they buzz with something Ellie can only connect with so much need that it's beginning to overwhelm her.

“Like— like that! You’re giving me bedroom eyes.”

“Well,” Ellie sits up a little straighter on her elbows. “We are in a bedroom.”

Your forehead falls to lay on Ellie’s arm as you let out a howling laugh. Ellie’s skin burns through her flannel at the feeling of you on her. Ellie finds herself feeling reminiscent of a time three years ago when she might have found herself in such close proximity to you and it has her chest clenching with a raw ache, knowing she’d gone and fucked it all up.

“Hey,” Ellie begins with a laugh. “Remember that time your mom surprised you and caught you, me, and Dina all smoking—”

You remember in that instant why you’d been so determined to get out of being locked in a room with her. Although inebriated, it seemed that for a little while tonight you and Ellie had managed to slip back into something similar to that of your old friendship. As if you had almost looked past the last three years. Falling back into joking with each other like it was the most natural thing.

“No.” You’re firm, tone dripping with finality. “You don’t get to do this.” 

“Please—”

“Ellie. No.”

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear her. Ellie herself almost misses the words slipping past her lips, but she feels you go stiff, the sound of your sharp inhale rings in her ears. She can't help herself when her hand moves up to your head, brushing some of the strands behind your ear and twirling the ends.

Three years of waiting. Three years of wanting and avoiding, and the need to hear those words fall from her mouth, and all it took was getting locked in a room together and sharing a joint. You’d imagined the apology a few times. Ellie showing up on your doorstep, soaked to the bone in the rain, on her knees grovelling her apologies. Sending flowers. Some huge declaration of love.

But not in a frat boys bedroom, stoned with Ellie Williams.

“Do you remember how we first met?” Ellie continues when you don’t speak, still twirling your hair around her finger. “Homecoming freshman year. Dina said she had someone from her compsci class to introduce me to and I was ready to clam up because I’m terrible with new people. But then there you were—”

“Ellie—” you try cutting her off.

“—Vodka in your nalgene, and being around you just felt so easy. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever met. Even later that night when I held your hair as you puked all over that poor lady’s flower bush. She came out yelling and all you did was say something about fertilising her plants.” Ellie laughs as she recounts the day you two met.

Your headache from earlier is back as you pull away, your hair falling from Ellies fingers. Shutting your eyes in hopes to quell the splitting pain resting just between them, Ellie’s voice fades slightly to the background of your focus. God, you hoped to get out of there soon. It had already been long enough, and it had led to your guard being brought down.

Ellie’s still talking when your ears focus again,“—for the last three years I’ve been trying to work out how to apologize to you and make things right, but fuck, none of them are good enough. And I’m so incredibly sorry about how everything turned out.”

“Ellie.” you interject, sounding exhausted. “Please just stop.” 

She shakes her head, sitting up and moving closer to you, “No, please. If this is the only chance I get at this I need you to listen to me—”

“It won’t change anything, you know that. You still did what you did.” You rub at your eyes and shift away from her.

“And it was by far the worst thing I’ve ever done, and believe me there's been a lot of fuck ups on my part. If I could take it back and make it right I would. . . I will.” 

Ellie’s practically on her hands and knees begging you to hear her out for just a moment, but the hurt of her leaving you stings just as fresh as it had in the beginning. All you can do is shake your head and try putting some distance between the two of you, “Ellie, you’re being mean.” 

It seems that in your attempts at putting some much needed distance between you and Ellie, you failed to notice how close you were to the edge of the bed. You’re about to fall off when Ellie reaches out, her arm wrapping around you to keep you on the bed. The two of you are closer than ever before, her forehead is pressed against yours as she scoots back, bringing you further onto the bed with her arm still secure around you. Your breath stutters in your chest as Ellie’s eyes fall shut. 

“Baby just. . .” Ellie breathes out shakily, eyes opening again to meet yours. “I clammed up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow down the lump that’s formed in your throat, voice just above a whisper as you speak, “Ellie why are you doing this?”

She shakes her head against yours, bringing the hand that she had around your back, up to cup your face, “I hope you’re willing to forgive me. . . or at least try to.”

To hear Ellie make this attempt after wanting nothing more for three years had your mind short circuiting in an electrifying blaze. You know that you shouldn’t give in to her, that this apology is probably no more than a half-assed attempt at easing whatever guilt she may hold. Why wait three years? Three years you had spent wondering what you had done wrong for her to throw away whatever it was you two shared.

Ellie watches your eyes glaze over slightly, and in what might be a lapse of judgement is quick to make her move while you’re still stunned, moving forward and kissing you. You grow stiff under the weight of Ellie’s lips on yours, eyes open and looking at Ellie’s shut eyes. With your face now sandwiched between both of Ellie’s hands, do your eyes fall shut and mind catches up to the fact that Ellie William’s is kissing you. 

You’re kissing Ellie Williams.

The kiss is all consuming, tasting of the tequila and whiskey on your tongue. It’s messy with the clashing of teeth, nipping of lips and hands tangled in hair. All rational thought is thrown out the window once you feel her body pressed against yours. Breathing is the last thing on either of your minds as one of Ellie’s hands splays out across your back to pull your body into hers solidly. The searing heat of Ellie’s hand on the exposed skin of your back has you shuddering,  arching into her to try moving away from the touch. 

Your lips stay moulded together as Ellie rolls onto her back, taking you with her, hands holding onto your hips. Ellie can’t get enough of you, her breathing is heavy as she pushes her lips a little harder against yours, a groan escaping the girl's throat as you fist at her flannel. You break apart for a moment so Ellie can shrug out of  her flannel, admiring the swirls of ink marking her right forearm before your lips are on her.

Your teeth are lightly nipping at the slim expanse of Ellie’s neck, hands wandering down the firm muscles of her arms. You’re sitting up together now, you seated in Ellie’s lap, legs on either side of her thighs. Your teeth are still working at Ellie’s neck, which you follow up with sloppy kisses to soothe the sting of making your mark. Ellie’s eyes fall shut at the feeling, but she has to stop before it gets too far. 

Tonight is all about you. 

Grabbing a fistful of hair and gently pulling your head out of her neck, Ellie leans into you, but doesn’t let her lips touch your skin, just letting her hot breath fan over you. Her nose is nudging the column of your throat up to the hook of your jaw. You’re whining, filled to the brim with impatience has you shifting in Ellie’s lap in the attempt to get closer, grinding your hips where the two of you meet.

Ellie groans, dropping her head fully into your neck, lips pressing firmly to your collarbone. Here, your perfume wafts up her nose, a sickly sweet and seductive twinge that has her mouthing at your neck in the same fashion done to her own. Lips dragging lazily up from collarbone to the pulsepoint where your heartbeat thumps erratically beneath the skin. 

With your head thrown back and hips starting a slow and steady drag, you’re all heavy pants and loose whines that never fully slip past your lips. The friction caused by your hips grinding down onto Ellie feels euphoric all the same as not being enough. One of her hands is still stationed on your hip, the other taking place at the small of your back to aid your movements against her. 

The breath in both yours and Ellie’s throats is choked out when the fabric of your jeans catches against your bundle of nerves in just the right way. It must feel just as good for Ellie as she’s grinding her hips up into you at the feeling, panting against your neck. 

“Ellie.” Her name slipping past your lips in a garbled mess of need, “Ellie, please. . .”

She only hums in response, finally kissing you again. It doesn't last as long as you’d have hoped as Ellie pulls away slightly to speak against you, “Mmh, what is it baby? C’mon.”

Your hips cant down into her again out of pure desperation as you pant out, “More.”

Suddenly, you’re being guided by Ellie’s capable hands to lay down on the bed. But in your still muddled mind it feels as if you’ve just gone down the slope of a rollercoaster, stomach dropping and heart in your throat. Ellie is situated above you, looking everything like a dream with her short hair falling around her face, eyes catching the light of the desk lamp and sparkling. She smiles down at you as you both take a moment, and your stomach somersaults, legs locked around her taught hips to pull her down closer to you. 

Dropping to her elbows, Ellie’s body is flush against you as she brings a hand up to grab your face, “What is it you need? Hmm, baby’s gone all needy on me.” The teasing lilt to her tone has you pushing your hips up against hers, lips searching for hers again. Ellie pulls back slightly, getting a better look at your flushed appearance, apples of your cheeks bursting a bright pink.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You pant out.

A smirk pulls at her lips as she dips down to kiss your neck. “I am touching you baby.”

You groan, frustrated and needing for her to do something. “Want your mouth, your fingers. Anything. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

Ellie’s kisses trail down your neck to your still clothed chest, where she graces the swell of your breasts, followed by grazing her teeth over your nipples poking through the fabric. She continues her way down until she reaches the waistband of your jeans, eyes flickering up to yours for confirmation. When Ellie hears you breath out a wispy yes, she’s working at undoing your pants. You’re kicking off your shoes and aiding her in taking off your pants by lifting your hips, her fingers brush over the skin of your thighs in a hot trail.

Your pants and underwear are tossed to the ground with a dull thud, now laying before Ellie bare from the waist down. Her eyes are hungry, looking like a woman starved of everything she’s ever needed. The intensity of her eyes taking you in has you closing your legs self consciously, but Ellie tuts and spreads them open again, laying on her stomach between your legs.

“Look at you, so wet for me.” Ellie purrs, dragging her middle finger through your folds to collect some of your slick. You gasp at the touch, gaze locked on Ellie whose eyes roll back into her skull as she sucks your slick clean from her finger. “So fucking sweet baby, I knew it.”

“Ellie please. . .” you mewl, growing impatient.

Without another second wasted, Ellie’s head is level with your cunt as she licks a bold stripe from your hole up to your clit. Her mouth is hot against you, and even though you’ve just started the feeling is so overwhelming that your legs move to clamp around Ellie’s head. Her strong arms curl around your thighs, prying them away from her head, pinning them down against the bed as she moves your feet to rest over her shoulders. 

Something delightful burns in your stomach as Ellie’s tongue moves through your folds again, warm and wet. A pleasurable sigh leaves you, head thrown back and eyes shut. Your hands are trying to find hold of anything, one gripping at the bedspread and the other wrapped around Ellie’s forearm, feeling the ridges of muscle and tattoo beneath your fingers.

Ellie’s tongue passes through you a couple more times before she’s wrapping her lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into her mouth. “Mmm, tastes like heaven baby.”

You’re a needy, gasping mess beneath her. Your moans are music to her ears, and Ellie thinks they are the hottest thing she’s ever heard, encouraging her to keep going. Ellie releases your clit from her mouth with a pop, flicking her tongue over it has your hips bucking up into her face for more, “Fuck. . . right there Ellie.” 

Her groan vibrates through you, rustling the tightening coil that sits heavy in your belly. Ellie keeps giving you exactly what you wanted, working at your cunt like it’s her last meal. You pry your eyes open and the sight of Ellie between your legs pulls a loud moan from the back of your throat. Her pale veiny hands tighten their grip on your thighs, fingers pressing into your flesh deliciously. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anything as good as this, with Ellie’s nose nudging at your clit as her mouth moves lower on your cunt, running her tongue along your entrance once, twice, before dipping in. She’s groaning into you, spurring you on. You release your grip on Ellie’s forearm to palm at your breasts, gaze locking with hers from over your mound. Ellie’s hand moves from your thigh to encase your hand with hers where you palm at yourself. 

Ellie takes this moment to catch a breath, leaning her head against your leg. The bottom half of her face is slick, glistening with your arousal that her tongue licks from her lips. She’s panting in a similar fashion to you. “Doing so good f’me baby.” The kiss she places to your inner thigh has you jostling into her touch. 

“Ellie. . . more, I need more.”

She smirks and moves the hand that was on yours back to your cunt, dragging her fingers through your folds and circling them around your clit lazily. It’s too soon that she’s abandoning her ministrations on your clit and moving down to your entrance, teasing her fingers along your opening before she’s pushing them into you.

They move in and out of you slowly at first, Ellie working them up to a steady pace, going as deep as she can,  “Oh god. . .”

“Nope, just Ellie, baby.” She sends you a wink that has you letting out a small chuckle, one that’s cut off by your own moan as her fingers curl against that sweet spot inside you. “My good girl. Lovin’ this, huh?”

You nod weakly, clenching around Ellie’s fingers. She knows you’re probably close, knows that soon, the coil that’s been building in your belly will snap. This has her leaning back down to kiss at your clit. Your hands leave your body and where it grips at the bed to thread through Ellie’s hair, moving the strands that have fallen in front of her face out of the way so you can see her fully. Ellie leaves a series of pecks on your clit before sucking it into her mouth, tongue flicking at it. 

The combined pleasure of having Ellie’s fingers buried deep inside your cunt and her mouth working your clit has the muscles in your legs clenching as you fight the urge to close your legs around her head once again. It’s all too much, your hips are rutting up into her mouth as she continues to lap at you, and you can feel your release hurdling towards you. 

“Ellie,” you whimper, head thrown back against the bed. Your chest is heaving erratically, but Ellie doesn’t let up. The feeling that’s been sitting so heavily in your belly finally lets up as your release hits you, thighs trembling. You twitch and moan as you fall apart against Ellie’s tongue and fingers. The room feels so unbearably warm as your fingers tighten in Ellie’s hair, eyes screwed shut as your mouth drops open in a loud moan. “Fuck! Oh god. . . fuck fuck fuck, Ellie!”

Ellie works you through it, lapping greedily at the arousal that gushes from you, fingers still working steadily as you clench tightly around them. The feeling of her flicking at your clit and fingers curling inside you becomes so overwhelming that you almost push Ellie away from you, but she’s pulling away on her own. 

Both of you are panting, your hands fall from her hair to brush back your own which you’re sure is an ugly tangled mess. You hiss at the loss of Ellie’s fingers as she pulls them out of you, breath  stuttering and catching in your chest as she maintains eye contact with you as she brings them up to her mouth like earlier. Ellie groans at the taste of you on her fingers, acting like a woman starved as if she wasn’t buried between your thighs just a moment ago. 

You hide behind your hands, slightly embarrassed as you let out a laugh. You feel the bed move and soon enough Ellie is above you again, moving your hands away from your face so she can see you properly. She’s smiling down at you, letting out a soft chuckle, “That what you wanted, pretty girl?”

The flush in your cheeks only deepens and you can’t find it in you to form any coherent words, only nodding in response. Ellie’s smile widens —as does yours— as her eyes dance around your face before she’s leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. This kiss is unlike the others you’ve shared tonight, this one is slow, lethargic and full of something you can’t name. 

It’s over quicker than it lasts, a loud banging on the door has you and Ellie pulling away from each other. “Hey, is there someone in ‘ere?” calls out a slurring voice.

In an instant, any and all euphoria mulling about in your body is swept away as you come to your senses. The sounds from the party that still rages on outside filter through the open window, no longer muffled by your cross-faded state. 

Quickly, you’re rolling out from under Ellie, standing up so fast you almost give yourself a head rush. You’re pulling your underwear and pants back on as fast as you can, shoving your shoes on as you ignore Ellie who calls out to you to hang on a second, and the sounds of the door jostling against the frame. 

You need to get out of here as soon as possible. The weight you’re feeling in your chest right now is worse than when the door knob broke and you realized you’d be stuck in here with Ellie for god knows how long. Now, you don’t know how long it's been, but certainly long enough to have landed you in such a sticky situation you don’t know how you’ll recover from this lapse in your judgement. 

Ellie is still trying to get you to calm down when the door swings open on its hinges and in stumbles the drunkest frat boy you’ve ever seen.

“Ellie, what’re you doin’ in ‘ere?” He slurs, using the door to hold himself upright. Suddenly, his eyes light up, “You got any weed?”

She hesitates for a moment, before nodding, “Uh. . . yeah I’ve got some.” Ellie’s shrugging on her flannel and wiping at her mouth with the sleeve, looking between you and who you assume is Ryan. She looks like she wants to say something, brows furrowed deeply, but you don’t give her the chance as you’re squeezing past Ryan.

“Gotta go.” you call out over your shoulder. You hold onto the railing as you hurriedly make your way down the stairs, chest aching with an Ellie sized hole as you wonder what the fuck just happened.

[northwest-cryptid]

This may only be my opinion on the matter, and I know a few Natives myself who all have their own ideas about this. However; to me if you want to make a Native character, be they for a game, as an OC; whatever doesn't matter. All you need to do in order to make sure you're not being offensive? Just do like, the bare minimum research.

Step 1. Pick a location for your character.

If your character exists within some fantasy world or whatever then it can be a bit harder to pinpoint something like this. At this point skip to step 2.

If your character is of Earth, or is of our known universe (yes this includes sci fi settings), then trace their bloodline back to where they originally are from.

I say this because it will help you with step 2.

You need to know where, or at least roughly where your character is from.

Step 2. Pick a tribe from that location that makes sense for the character.

Again, even a basic level of research goes a long ways here, I know fanfic writers who would get put on a list looking up the ins and outs of some criminal shit just to accurately write a character, I know you have the ability to research shit so I trust you can do this here.

Figure out based on the location you picked for your character, what tribe they would reasonably be a part of. If you find that you'd rather have them in a specific tribe; perhaps one that's important to you or something; you can do Step 1 and Step 2 in reverse order.

The important thing here is that: If you have to make up a tribe, I'm going to understand you don't actually care about them being Native. If you have to give them a specific tribe but you don't bother to give that tribe the basic respect of knowing where they're from I am once again going to understand you just don't actually give two shits about Natives.

Okay so now that we have an understanding of what tribe our character is from, we can begin looking into that tribe's culture. This may be a bit difficult in some cases since not everything is going to just be out there on the internet, and you may also not have a fundamental understanding of the culture and how it's changed over the years. Guess what, that's fine! I'd rather see a character who's specifically said to be Lakota, and who knows about our deities and teachings even if they're the sort of thing most modern Natives don't believe in or care about. Accurate depiction of culture is not a stereotype!

Once we know what sort of things might be important to this character culturally, we can begin to weave small noticeable traits into them, or you can even make those traits a much larger part of the character. As a quick example, for my Vtuber's design I included not only the colors of the Four Directions but often depict them with a braid and use owl feathers as a sort of symbol of them. This all comes directly from the fact my Life Shield uses owl feathers to represent my family, includes the Four Directions, and I literally grew up with a braid and continue to grow out my hair as to have another; it's all part of the culture I was raised in, even if I amplified the importance of some aspects to sort of make them a trait for a character. Again, accuracy isn't a stereotype.

I also want to briefly mention that when you're naming your character I urge you to look up how people in the tribe are actually named, please don't just do the old "color + animal" thing or whatever and think it's fine. Just again, do the bare minimum research to figure out how people in that tribe are named and go from there. I once joked with my partner that "the only thing about the Natives in Twilight that's remotely accurate is that they have the most generic white American names"

If you want an actually pretty good example of what I'm talking about, look no further than Prey. No not the movie, no not the modern remake; but the game from like 2006.

Our main character here is a Native man named Tommy, or rather Domasi "Tommy" Tawodi and he's actually said to be Cherokee. Now you can say what you will about his spirit powers and such, I get it.

But from a sheer design perspective?

Yea that's not bad at all! Everything from the facial features to his name to his general aesthetic is spot on for the Cherokee I've met out at the reservation. This is what I mean when I say accurate depiction of a culture isn't some harmful stereotype.

I'd love to see more Natives in things, I'd love to see Native OCs; but I feel like people are so scared to make Natives a thing because doing so could be racist if you misrepresent us or something. Like okay let me tell you right now you're not gonna do it worse than people who have made millions off selling books and movies whether it's westerns that depict us all as uncivilized killers or whatever the hell was going on in twilight; you're gonna be fine so long as you TRY.

And yes it's actually as easy as a 3 step process, the same sort of thing you'd do for any character really.

I mean think about it, let's say I was some weeb who really wanted to make a Japanese character but I didn't want to do any research. I could make the mistake of putting them in these overly traditional outfits and settings and maybe at least some of the details would be accurate but overall it'd be pretty bad rep, or I could go the polar opposite direction and just make them look like they're some British street punk with their whole aesthetic being way off from the sort of actual street fashion of places like Tokyo; again misrepresenting a whole subculture there. Or maybe I could do what everyone does to Natives and deem them to be some fantasy race who must have super powers and make them into essentially just an anime character; obviously that would be some severely bad rep. All of which could be fixed if I just bothered to go "okay where do I want this person to be from? What sort of culture do people from there abide by in their day to day life? How could I reflect that in a character?"

Honestly that's just good practice for making any sort of character based on a real world group.

And going back to a point I stated in Step 1. If you want to include a Native character in a fantasy world where ya know, America doesn't exist and therefore we couldn't logically have Native Americans; pick a tribe and go off that. As long as it's accurate I don't believe it would be seen as disrespectful.

At the end of the day there will always be people who get up in arms about anything; like it's their job to twist anything into being racist. You will never make those people happy, don't bother trying.