#and i was homeschooled growing up and i didn’t go to many groups or anything like that so i was already isolated from society just from tha

[toomuchdivergentformyneuro]

probably the most constant thing of my life has been the social isolation and loneliness i experience

since i was a young child, i’ve always struggled to make and find friends, and often was left alone

for a long time, nothing could defeat my spirits and will to make friends, and even the loneliness wasn’t enough to make me stop

nowadays, it gets to me, the loneliness, and i often wonder if i’ll have all the friends i’ve deserved all along

[porchenjoyer]

My mom homeschooled me so that I could never learn anything besides exactly what she wanted to spoon-feed me. My books from the library were screened, I could only watch a handful of movies and TV shows, which she hand-picked and bought on DVD or VHS, I couldn’t listen to the radio, only cassettes and CDs she had pre-approved (it was all either Christian praise music or classical orchestra, other than the time she graciously bought me the soundtrack to Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron). I was supervised on the internet. Our news came not in newspapers or TV or radio, but in a biweekly right-wing Christian magazine on world news that she still subscribes to, today. I had no sex education except the church’s admonition to never have sex—I arrived at college at 18 and did not know what any kind of sexual act was, I didn’t even know a penis could be inserted into a vagina. My only friends growing up were at church, and mom typically only let me get close to the children of our pastors or elders/deacons of the church—one of my friends was a boy whose single father worked several jobs and rarely came to church on Sundays because he was exhausted, but my friend would walk to church himself or get a ride from other church families. Mom didn’t like that kid at ALL because she considered it unchristian of his father to skip church because he was tired—lazy, lacking discipline, etc. I wasn’t allowed to go to summer camps put on my local public schools, or the YMCA, or any organization where I might mix with “secular” children who could be a bad influence on me—however, I WAS sent to right-wing evangelical summer camps a few times where we were taught step by step how to break down a person who didn’t want to be evangelized to.

I think the only thing that kept me from despair as a kid and teen was spending hours deep in the woods with a journal and a field guide to birds. I wrote and wrote and wrote. But I never wrote down my real secrets—my desperate love for the girls at church who were my friends. One of them I would see every Sunday and at youth group and sometimes we’d go to each other’s houses and there were days when these words pounded in my head, so strongly I almost said them aloud so many times: “if I were a man, I’d marry her.” I didn’t know I could be a man. I didn’t know that even if I was a woman, I could still marry her—our church was in Massachusetts and same-sex marriage had been legalized a year or two prior.

I met my first openly gay person at college, second semester of freshman year. As soon as they said, in a tone of fond exasperation, “Honey—I’m gay,” I realized I needed to sit down and think about everything I had been taught. And it took years and years, but I’m here now, in my 30s, bisexual and transgender and polyamorous and ex-Christian.

So yeah, American evangelicals push homeschooling because they want full control over their children and they don’t want them to learn about anything except what they force-feed them.

[cyberaxolotl]

Many thanks to Sun for making this post. They’ve given over the hard stuff, and now it’s time for me to add on.

Note that I can only speak on my behalf and not on anyone else’s here.

I’ll start by saying I am terribly, terribly sorry for everyone that I hurt in my impulsivity. My own lack of self awareness and inability to realize that my sense of humor would make others uncomfortable is entirely at fault in recent times. My sense of humor is very driven by sexual and “cursed” humor and I tend to forget that it’s a sense of humor that will make a lot of people uncomfortable.

I also tend to get very comfortable with people very quickly, especially if I’m with people I was already truly comfortable with. This was a big problem, I’d be with others who I was very close with, and I’d end up forgetting that there was somebody who was not them was there. I’m extremely close with my closest friends, we talk about literally everything and anything with each other, and because that friendship is so good, I’ll end up seeking it out. Part of my problem was that I was trying to get close with people who I could not become so close with, because the level of comfort that is simply isn’t possible with some people.

Touching on 2020 issues, yes, I was very bad back then. I was 12, I had very poor social skills from being homeschooling and only growing up online, and I didn’t understand my disability and couldn’t explain it like I can now. I didn’t know what was wrong when it was wrong because my only influence socially was being online. You could say that I’m, very literally, chronically online. And that really skews perspective when you’re 12. But i’m not 12 anymore, and my past experiences have helped me form a better moral compass.

I never would have wrote that fic if I had known and someone had told me it was wrong. But, with the group I shared it with, nobody did tell me after I wrote it. I should have known better, obviously I should have, but I didn’t. And when you’re unintentionally doing something wrong, and nobody tells you that you’re doing something wrong, that has bad results. I wish I never had wrote it.

12-13 year old me did a lot of morally skewed stuff. I was impulsive, I wrote that fic, I was exclus, I ended up being manipulative, because I hadn’t known what I was doing. Im 15 now and I want to be better, I want to be good. I’m trying to manage my impulsivity, I condemn the me that wrote that, I’m not exclus, and I’ve gotten better at communicating. But when you were a child like I was, and I still am, who’s social skills were based entirely online with only social media as a reference? I hiccup. And I wish I didn’t hiccup, but I do, and I only realize I had hiccuped when it’s too late.

I’ve already noted that my number one problems, today and in the past, are three things; I am impulsive, I get too comfortable too quickly in an attempt to have close friends, and I lack self awareness. These are 3 symptoms of ADHD that I hadn’t realized were affecting my life, and only very recently did I get a better understanding of them. Understanding my disability is a long road to unpack and I don’t think I’ll ever understand myself fully.

The number one thing I can ask people to do for these three symptoms is talk to me. Tell me when I’m doing it, tell me if you’re uncomfortable, please. I don’t want to upset people, but when I can’t realize it for myself, I need to be communicated with. My sense of humor will always be my sense of humor, and it will never fit for everyone, but if I know it’s making people uncomfortable, then there is stuff I can do. I can lay lower in the conversation, I can change the topic I was on about, I can go with the flow of the conversation instead of leading it if I was. There are things I can do about it if I am just told I am doing it.

So many problems in my life have been because of ignorance. And I’ve learned the rough way the consequences it has. But I don’t want to keep needing to learn by horrible things happening, I don’t want to keep learning by losing friends and hurting people. I want people to tell me.

Of course, it’s nobody’s job to educate me, and nobody is obligated to have patience when I’ve hurt them. Being hurt is terrible, and I’m not mad at anybody. I know that this is my fault. But if there really is an attempt to be friends with me, and if I’m considered worth it, then I’d rather know that I’m hurting someone and be told than be hurting someone and continue to do so.

Recently, I got an anonymous ask to FBRFD. It was saying that I had not changed and I never would, and that it would be my downfall, even into adulthood. I don’t want it to be my downfall and I do want to change, and I have changed. Im not the same person I was when I was 12, and Im not the same person I was at the start of this year. I will change in a myriad of ways throughout my life as my view shifts, my social skills get better, as I understand myself more, there are a lot of things contributing to it.

I’m not mad at whichever person sent me that ask. I’ve said unruly things while feeling big emotions too, and especially if they’re someone I have hurt, I do not blame them. But I do wonder what they wanted to achieve from it, sending a message like that to a disabled child.

The number one thing I have, and always have wanted, is to make people happy and to make people laugh. And I’ve failed that several times. But every time I mess up, it’s putting more things into perspective, showing me something that I’d done wrong, or something that I simply couldn’t have done right.

And, once again, I am terribly sorry to everyone that I hurt. I don’t expect any forgiveness for what I did, but I don’t want to be told I’ve ruined my life when I’m 15.

This post and this reblog could backfire in a lot of ways, and I’m aware of that. But i’d rather it backfire and I be hurt again than I not admit what I’d done and who Id hurt.

I do not want either of the other two to be hurt. If you have any words, please, give them to me. Don’t hurt the other two.

That is my end of this done. If you’ve read this through, thank you. What you do knowing all of this is entirely up to you.

In defense of CyberAxolotl, PikaPikaFlower, and VinnieCervine

I’ll begin by saying I am not someone directly associated with the situation of these three, but a friend that CyberAxolotl vents to frequently, and I have known her since early 2020. This post was created with her input. I’ve never formally met VinnieCervine or PikaPikaFlower, but it’s told me about them, and told me about what’s been happening in their lives recently. And I feel the need to address some accusations made against them.

No names about other people associated with this situation will be said. This is an in-defense-of post, I am not attacking anybody.

There is a call-out post out there targeted onto CyberAxolotl and VinnieCervine based on their actions in 2020-2021, anywhere from 2-3 years ago at this time. I feel like it should be unnecessary to address their pasts when, at the times of 2-3 years ago, CyberAxolotl would be 12-13 and VinnieCervine would be 14-15. However, I will unpack them either way.

The label of “exclusionist” in the context of LGBT discourse on Cyberaxolotl is outdated information. CyberAxolotl is not exclusionist anymore, it was an old opinion that she no longer has. Told by CyberAxolotl, she regrets having had it.

CyberAxolotl has also been accused of making a r^pe fanfiction. It’s unfortunate to say that this claim is true, but a talk with her yields that she never meant to write it like that, and she regrets writing it at all. As said by her, 

Cyberaxolotl, as it said itself, didn't realize how messed up her fic was back then. Its also important to note that in her friend group, no one told her that it was messed up, meaning no one warned it about it.

I can understand why that action can make her unforgivable to a lot of people. She knows better now and has known better for a very long time now, and it wishes to forget that it had ever happened. But, as she said, she can’t unwrite it. All she can do is apologize and never do it again, and she KNOWS not to do it again, she’s not 12 anymore.

I believe those are two of the most major things in the past that required addressing. In their pasts, Pika was not associated with them. And, as people do, they’ve grown over two-three years

Now, new stuff has happened.

Today, CyberAxolotl is 15, VinnieCervine is 17, and PikaPikaFlower is 18. 

CyberAxolotl and PikaPikaFlower are in a romantic relationship, and CyberAxolotl and VinnieCervine are in a queerplatonic partnership.

15 and 18 is on thin ice for an age gap, and the two of them very much know that. However, a three year age gap is legal in both of their states, so long as they are not sexualizing or having sex with each other. Specifically, so long as CyberAxolotl is not being sexualized, or sharing depictions of herself naked or in sexual situations.

The two have been in a relationship since CyberAxolotl was 14 and PikaPikaFlower was 17, and are still together now. CyberAxolotl’s birthday comes before PikaPikaFlower’s, in July, while her girlfriend’s comes in September. They are always within the three year age gap.

Now, here’s something that you might not like; most teenagers are going to talk about sex, or porn, or stuff related to the topic with each other. When you’re comfortable and close with someone, even at their age, that tends to happen. What it doesn’t mean is that they are sexualizing themselves, oftentimes, especially in fandom culture, they’ll be sexualizing adult fictional characters, or their own fictional characters who are adults.

Establishing healthy boundaries is especially important when your relationship has an age gap like theirs. But, CyberAxolotl tells me this;

Teenagers are going to talk about sex with other teenagers or people they’re comfortable with. It’s a lesson everyone is taught coming online to never share sexual pictures of yourself, and CyberAxolotl knows that fully. Their relationship is fully legal so long as CyberAxolotl is not sexualized, and it has said that it’s uncomfortable being sexualized, so I can’t see that as happening. 

Whether you approve of their relationship or not is not your business. CyberAxolotl says she talked with her mother about PikaPikaFlower and their relationship, and her mother reiterates the same lesson of “as long as you aren’t sexualizing yourself, teenagers are going to talk about sex and porn. it’s just what they do.” (Quoted from her)

Any allegations made about PikaPikaFlower being a predator are far-fetched and wrong. Regardless of your opinion on their age gap, it’s legal, and it’s nobody’s business but their own. They’re happy, and if you don’t trust what they tell you about their relationship, then you’ll never be satisfied. And regardless, it is not your right.

And now, something that has been accused of them in the past and now.

Stepping over boundaries and making people uncomfortable, something relevant to all three of them.

CyberAxolotl has a big statement about this to make for herself.

I think some people can relate to the sentiment. If you don’t realize something is wrong, and nobody tells you, you won’t know it’s wrong. That’s what this comes down to, and while I know it can be hard to be patient, improving as a person is hard and needs some understanding. And having NSFW as a big part of your sense of humor can also be a problem, because you can’t really change your entire sense of humor.

And reeling it back, remember that CyberAxolotl and VinnieCervine are children, and all three of them are neurodivergent. It’s not an excuse, but they’re classified as disabilities for a reason. It means that a little extra effort and understanding needs to go in, and if you don’t have the patience for it, that’s okay. They’re all still young, even if PikaPikaFlower is an adult, and they all have time to learn. As long as they want to learn, and are willing to learn for the better part of a change, they can try their best with some help. CyberAxolotl has told me that she’s now more comfortable talking with its mother about her problems and is getting help from its family.

But also remember that changing and growing is not a linear process. They can all grow in some ways and change in others, but sometimes, they’ll end up taking a step back. This is why patience is important, nobody’s recovery or growth will EVER be linear, it’s just human nature. If you don’t want to try to help them, that’s okay, and I’m not saying they haven’t been wrong, but I don’t think anyone should be shunned, reported, or made to feel unwelcome in their community.

I do not want to call anyone a villain in this situation. Things were done wrong, a lot of things. It can’t be undone. I just don’t want these three attacked by anybody.

Thank you for reading to the end. Your thoughts on these three are your thoughts, but I don’t want their lives ruined over these accusations because they CAN be life ruining. Evidenced by problems from years ago being dug up now and brought up again.

I will say this once more; Please do not harass CyberAxolotl, PikaPikaFlower, or VinnieCervine. they are people too, they have made mistakes, but they are growing from their pasts and i want them to be happy and safe.

[a-room-of-my-own]

One of the things I don’t think that pro sex strike fems understand is that the anti abortion movement in the usa is headed by evangelical christian extremists who are VERY anti-sex and anti-female sexual pleasure. Like sex is extremely taboo where I live (Bible belt region, also I’m between age 20-25 for more context). The school I went to straight up didn’t have sex ed. Schools here are not required to have sex ed and if they do it doesn’t have to be medically accurate. Sex is considered to be for procreation only. Birth control is taboo because it prevents pregnancy. Wives are not supposed to deny their husbands sex. You are supposed to have as many children as possible until you either physically can’t or die. It is considered inappropriate to even kiss before marriage. I was told to only give side hugs and never fully hug a guy because he might feel my breasts. I was told that women were not supposed to have sexual “urges” and that something was fundamentally wrong with me if I did. I was told these things in christian youth groups at the churches my parents forced me to go to. I didn’t actually grow up in as extreme of a christian home that I know other women in the usa grew up in. I knew girls who experienced significantly worse things than I did. I was given a few options outside of immediate motherhood, allowed to wear pants, allowed to celebrate holidays, allowed to go on birth control, allowed to leave the house by myself, allowed to go to a real school instead of being “homeschooled”, allowed to wear a one piece swimsuit, etc by my parents. I would actually call them moderate by comparison. I was even sort of given a sex ed talk by my mother. It was not medically accurate or really acceptable in the slightest but I’ve heard of women here being married off not knowing anything about how sex works. The problem with some of the conversation about this abortion thing is that a lot of people do not know how deeply and dangerously the religious extremism in the usa goes. There are people very high up in the conservative party who are evangelical christian extremists. Trump got major support from christian extremists here. There are scotus judges who are involved in christian extremism. People don’t know about this because it starts and grows in the states that are consistently forgotten about (like flyover states) and in rural communities, not big cities. Like Missouri, that place is a total mess. There are politicians there who have stated that they literally want to turn the us into the handmaids tale. The quiverfull movement is playing a major part in whatever the fuck is going on here too. If you want a good example of american evangelical christian extremists there’s the duggar family. Idk how many people outside of the us know about them.

I hope more people here start waking up to the fact that religion extremists have taken ahold of the us. It’s bad and we can’t stop it if we don’t know about it. This is a plan that has been in action for decades and it could have been stopped sooner. The us is unfortunately not a very secular country. Some politicians are calling for christian nationalism even, it’s terrifying. Separation between church and state has been long dead here. Also Fox News is involved somehow. This country is being rotted from the inside out by evangelical christians.

Almost funny story that I didn’t know where to include: female pleasure is so taboo here that I didn’t even know what my clitoris was actually called until adulthood and I was finally able to research the things I was never taught and actually go to the gynecologist for the first time. I didn’t know that it wasn’t a physical abnormality. I thought that there was something wrong with me. I also thought that vaginal penetration was supposed to hurt. That is what I grew up hearing from my first period. That my “wifely duties” would hurt. I didn’t know that it could be pleasurable and I was so terrified that it made me scared to even touch myself for a long time. That is why I will not let that anti-female pleasure type rhetoric radblr likes so much go unnoticed. I’ve done a lot of healing and learning since breaking free of religion and like I don’t want anyone to promote that kind of harmful stuff, if that makes sense. It hurts women.

Thank you so much for sharing your story and your input. I'm glad you could free yourself of all this, it takes a lot of courage.

Stories like yours are also why I'm not backing down about this subject. If you don't feel comfortable talking about it on your own blogs, consider mine your space, I'm with you 100%.

[comfortmarvelimagines]

You are Home, and Home is Safe

heyhey ! deciding to just get it over with and post this tonight (for those of you who don’t know what i’m talking about, a post explaining can be found here. side note, please be nice in my inbox, its been rough getting some of those comments). i am, however, going to continue to tag autistic!reader fics with #whenyoucantfindthequiet and #wycftq, so they’re easier to find. hope it’s what you’re after, nonnie, and i’m so so sorry it took so long !!

features : autistic!reader x mama!nat, lowkey asshole Tony Stark (it’s okay i didn’t make him really mean, just kinda well-meaning but misplaced/ mistimed) 

warnings : uhhh i guess meltdowns, some self-injurious behaviour

Words are hard. Always have been, always will be. 

You haven't always had a family. For years you were passed from foster home to foster home, with a consistent message: you were too much. Your needs were too high, your behaviour too confusing, your struggles too much to deal with. It got to a point where you began to question yourself, your diagnoses and trauma, wondering if it was all in your head or for attention like you were told over and over. 

That changed when you met Nat. 

It wasn’t immediate of course. There was the initial period of complete and total distrust, of another stranger whose life you were thrust into the middle of, floundering and drowning with no support. There was shutdown after shutdown. The trauma of being ignored and punished for meltdowns meant that you’d learned to internalise. You barely ate, and didn’t speak. But Nat met you where you were, unwaveringly. Was always calm, composed, voice level. Kept food out on the kitchen bench at all times, figuring out your safe foods and keeping them stocked. Realised you liked small enclosed spaces and stocked your bedroom with beanbags, pillows, stuffies and blankets, a permanent blanket fort taking up residence in the living space. Perhaps the most wonderful was her commitment to listening to you, with or without words. The superspy was quick to recognise your shutdown states from body language alone and responded quickly, with two option questions and the request to tap the hand of the answer you wanted. 

You almost wanted to feel embarrassed, humiliated, of the accommodations she made so immediately. But she always spoke to you conversationally and never in an infantilizing tone, like so many before her, and the trust you held for her grew. It didn’t always grow in a way that you felt was positive, though. As weeks passed you felt your shutdowns turn into meltdowns and silence into frustrated screams. You didn’t want to hurt her. You didn’t want to feel ungrateful or angry or like any of this was on purpose but somehow she knew. As she held you close after each one she reminded you that your body was unlearning trauma, that you were safe, that you were loved so fully and unconditionally and nothing, including meltdowns, would change that. The way she held you felt like home. 

But no one else was like Nat. Social workers were condescending, school was overwhelming, nowhere was safe. So you stuck to Nat. It wasn’t long after you were placed with her that she pulled you out of school, realising that they were doing more harm than good, and she was always there for homeschool. Not looking over your shoulder, but present. You could hear her humming through the walls, or swearing as she dropped a spoon into a pot of soup on the stove again, and it was comforting. It wasn’t the apartment that was home, per say, but having a parent made it feel like one. If she went to the grocery store or a walk in the park you came with, ear defenders on, clinging to her sleeve for safety. She told you that she loved you a million times a day, until one day you said it back. 

Words came easier after that. Simple things, like asking what’s for breakfast, became routine. It wasn’t just Nat softly illuminating the cramped space with hummed melodies and occasionally vulgar language but you as well, asking for help with homework or explaining a meme. It felt normal, comfortable, okay. The outside world was too much, but inside your home, the anxiety all but melted from your throat. 

You never wanted to leave safety. You wanted to feel it all the time. It was warm and sweet and heavy but in a calm way, like a weighted blanket sinking into your joints. It started as a one-time-thing, after a particularly rough meltdown, but you started sleeping in Nat’s bed. It just felt… right. The panic that set in when Nat left the room and you didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing or if she was ever going to come back was so all-consuming and nauseating that going to sleep alone, in another room, unable to hear her was torturous. What if she abandoned you, gone in the night, social worker beckoning you on to the next uncaring couple, crowded foster family or group home? This way, when you woke at 2am from a nightmare, the first thing you heard was her even breathing. Home. Safe. 

***

Tony Stark was something else. Nat eventually started to transition back to work, and, as being homeschooled permitted, brought you with her. Even in classified meetings where you weren’t allowed in you sat in corridors and made sure you could see her red braid through the frosted glass, glancing up from your laptop every few seconds to make sure she didn’t disappear while you wrote your English critique. The rest of Nat’s colleagues (it felt too weird to just casually refer to them as the Avengers and co) didn’t mention your presence, at least in front of you; it was as if they didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Not that you’d say anything back. Outside of the safety of home it was like the anxiety disconnected your brain from your throat, anything you wanted to say cut off before it reached your tongue. It was frustrating. The first few days ended in meltdowns when you reached the apartment and it felt weird and strange and almost like you were two different people but an all-round embarrassment of a child. It was weeks before things settled into a routine and a pattern of acknowledged non-acknowledgement. A pattern Stark ignored. 

You were sitting at the island bench in the communal kitchen, drinking chocolate milk and typing out an assignment, when you heard both Nat and Tony heading down the hall towards you. They’d just come out of a meeting, you sitting watch outside the whole time, and Nat had sent you to the kitchen to wait for her while she headed upstairs with Tony to drop off some paperwork to an intern. You hadn’t thought much of it. Sure, you didn’t like being away from Nat at all, but if she was clear in where she was going and how long she was going for (provided it was only a short period), you did okay. It was okay, until you heard the discussion from down the hall. 

“Damn, Nat, is that the longest you’ve been away from the kid?” 

“No.” 

“C’mon, Nat. I know the kid’s been through some shit, but this isn’t healthy. For either of you. What happens if you can’t get out of the mission next time? They’re gonna have to be away from you at some point. You can’t be in this line of work with a barnacle of a kid.” 

You’d heard enough. As the topic changed and they entered the kitchen, you didn’t look up from your laptop in greeting.  

*** 

Too much. Too clingy. Too anxious, too needy, too autistic, too much. You needed separation. Give Nat space. Of course she needed to work. The world needed her, and they didn’t need you tagging along. When you got home that night, you headed straight to your room. Buried yourself in the mountain of blankets and stuffies and waited until Nat came to check on you, facing the wall, feigning sleep. You doubt you fooled the former spy but nonetheless, she left you be, a whispered “I love you” hanging in the air as she creaked the door close behind her. 

It was seconds before you broke. It felt like choking. All of the fear that was slowly reduced to an ebbing tide through months of living in a caring environment crashed on you like the mother of all tsunamis, saltwater running down your cheeks and into your mouth as if smothering all the words you wished you could scream. It lasted for hours and hours and it was relentless, painful, as if your heart was being ripped out and an empty throbbing numbness was expanding in its place. You were too much. Too much. Too much. 

Nat stood outside your door at the time when she’d usually be gently waking you up, watching you unfurl and stretch yourself out of the cocoon of blankets you slept in every night. She knew something was wrong from lunch yesterday, and your isolation from her was concerning. She figured you needed space, but the sleep she knew was an act sat at the back of her mind and bugged her all night long. Even with that nagging suspicion that something was up, nothing prepared her for the way her heart sank when she came in and saw your body curled up, eyes red and barely open from exhaustion, pillow and face damp from tears. 

She was at your side in seconds. Your resolve to cut yourself off melted at the sight of her open arms, safe, warm, home. And immediately your body melted. Hands running through your hair, the promise that you were safe, loved, worthy of support, the request to “tell me next time, please, you don’t need to deal with this on your own.” 

For some reason, those were the words that broke out the first sounding sob in the 12 hours of silent crying. It was so loud and gut-wrenching and it almost didn’t feel like it came from you at all and it was such a weird feeling, and all of a sudden you were scratching at your arms to try and re-embody yourself and Nat was breathing calmly and deeply and gently rubbing your shoulders until you found yourself easing back into your physicality.  

“Did you hear what Stark said yesterday?” 

And just like that she figured it out, of course she did, because she’s a trained spy and that’s her job, to put the pieces together and slot the narrative into place. And god, were you grateful, because you couldn’t see yourself stringing sentences together to accuse none other than Iron Man himself of triggering waves of hurt just by stating what you’d convinced yourself was the truth. She was quick to reassure. You are loved, you are wanted, you are always welcome and will always be her child and what you need will always come first. The warm safety settled itself in your belly and you let the tiredness wash over you, drifting on a life raft of whispered Russian lullabies and Nat’s hand rubbing circles on your back. At peace.

Of course, you’d never tell Nat, but hearing her whisper-yell at Tony over the phone for being an insensitive dick was possibly one of the best moments of your life.

[poisonheart]

I keep coming back lol~

I’m so glad you brought up Alyssa (and the hate she gets from the fandom) because I have so many thoughts about her. While I know she has haters, I’m aware she also has enjoyers—often these groups go to the extremes of dislike/like, though. 

I’ll preface this by saying that I love that so many people nowadays are being more supportive of fictional ladies, even the less agreeable ones, but my feelings for Alyssa do not stem from this nor do I see myself as a part of the “support all fictional women” movement since I believe you can dislike a character without that choice being rooted in misogyny (or misandry if a male character.) 

And just because I can understand her, even sympathize with her, doesn’t mean I don’t see her faults or would be disappointed if it turned out she intentionally pushed Shin Ae in middle school. 

I’ve seen some Stalkyoo shippers hating on Alyssa just for existing, for being “Nol’s girlfriend” and while I get the annoyance of that fake relationship, I feel sometimes shipping clouds people’s vision to the overall story. It’s fine to dislike her, to suspect her, etc. She is similar to Kousuke in that they’re both characters that aren’t easy to root for, but to outright dismiss what we were shown in the flashbacks is wild.

We saw a very impressionable girl who was good at many times in academics and the arts, but didn’t really have a sense of self yet. She was homeschooled and sheltered, playing into her parent’s desires—probably more so to a father who ticked all the boxes of macho and abusive from the little we’ve seen. She’s seen a soft mother tolerate all this throughout, perhaps playing the role of ideal housewife to keep the peace in a household with a volatile bread winner. 

[That’s why it was so easy for her to fall prey to Yui—a strong, powerful woman who has everyone wrapped around her finger.] 

Alyssa saw the consequences of being fickle and “imperfect” with Meg—and knew what would happen, by how their father treated Meg, if she wasn’t the most ideal version of herself. I don’t know if I would necessarily assign mental health labels on Alyssa, but her ability to shift so rapidly between moods and temperatures is at least telling of the trauma she’s endured at home. Having to hide her sadness and stress from a father who would lash out at anything less than ideal/perfect.

And he was violent, if Meg’s reaction to Kousuke’s outburst following his altercation with Nol is anything to go by. The way she responds to his angry tone is a sign I won’t dismiss. Of course, I know Kousuke has reasons to treat her that way that go beyond him just being prickly in general—she did sexually harass him prior. Kousuke strikes me as someone who has dealt with harassment enough times to be rightfully defensive when people do not respect his boundaries.

[It’s nice Meg is changing, but this is one time I didn’t fault him for his reaction; if he were a female character and Meg had pulled that stunt in the early episodes—a lot more people would be on his side in this matter… I know it may not have been Quim’s intention for Meg, but sadly that whole arc reminded a lot of people who have been harassed before of how unacceptable her actions were.]

At any rate, Alyssa has always conformed to avoid conflict and to receive praise. Praise is better than scorn, it’s better than abuse. If she does what they expect and is asked of her, if she’s just good at everything, then she won’t get negative attention. That’s how she survived all this time. So then she comes to school for the first time and knows enough to understand she doesn’t want to be the odd kid who gets picked on. She cannot tolerate that. She’s spent her entire life avoiding that kind of thing at home.

This is all natural; we all go through it to some extent growing up. As you said, so many of us struggle(d) with this; being who we are vs being someone who is universally loved (and not having the experience at that age to understand that there’s no such thing.) Alyssa was very relatable. She was finally able to leave her golden cage and experience life, but she doesn’t want to suffer isolation or worse.

Talking about what Alyssa truly felt for Shin Ae is another monster to tackle. A lot of people read her feelings as romantic, awakening her to a sexuality that wasn’t the “norm” or “acceptable one” among her peers. Many readers suspect those notes in her locker were mocking her feelings for this—even what those boys said when they were trying to bully her was suspicions. Even her change toward Shin Ae could be attributed to her trying to avoid those feelings she felt she shouldn’t have, wanting to distance herself so that Shin Ae couldn’t affect her anymore. If she just went away, if she had never befriended her, then the feelings wouldn’t exist. 

Of course, it might turn out that it wasn’t romantic, but we cannot deny that Shin Ae made her feel strongly. I do believe she cared for her (I mean years later she remembered Shin Ae liked citrus flavored things) but her image and self-preservation ultimately won out. We see this constantly playing out in her scenes; she’s still trying to please everyone and fit it at the expense of herself and her desires. She doesn’t stand up for what she wants; she holds back and suppresses herself, not unlike Kousuke.

In fact, they’re quite similar in many ways.

Whereas Alyssa wants to be universally liked and strives to become someone everyone praises and admires (losing herself in the process), Kousuke wants to be loved by 1 bitter father; he yearns to be like him—down to the admiration Rand so effortlessly gains from people. Both push down their true wants, perhaps even ignoring or being oblivious to those desires in their pursuits. 

Alyssa hasn’t even shown she cares about Nol as a friend. He is a means to an end, and you have to wonder if she resents him for it. There she is—actually talented and skilled, but it’s her ties with him that got her to the position she’s in. And did she want to be an idol/singer? Or did her desire to be admired and lavished upon by Yui put her there? We know how she felt about idols specifically—the music she favored over that pop stuff. Her song (at the Christmas party) was very telling, too. 

Again, this is something she shares with Kousuke, who pursued the same field his father was in—who constantly says work isn’t a place for comfort—but then you see him totally change when talking about desserts/food or how brilliant he was as a pianist (to play that piece at that age is very difficult; he had to be exceptionally gifted.) 

I think the saddest part of Kousuke’s confession was that he ultimately wasn’t even chasing professional success. He was chasing his father’s love. Yui told him as a child that the only way to have Rand’s love was to become successful “like him” and that was the only way his father would turn to him, respect him, rely on and love him. Would he have chased the same things had that not been his motivator? Had he had Rand’s love? 

That really broke me. It doesn’t absolve Kousuke of his decisions, but I never asked for that. What I wanted was to know why and now I do. We know what led him to this point and it’s devastating, really. Doubly so when you see that Nol had offered him that love and acceptance all along. I know it’s not the same. Nothing fills the gap left by a parent, but he could have had an ally—someone to share his pain with. 

That subtle smile when Nol said they would have made a great team, he allowed himself to consider “the would have been.” 

He spoke of things he hated about Nol, but did he really hate him? 

It’s crazy to realize that even up until the night before the trial, Nol tried reaching out to Kousuke. He sought comfort in him and found none. It’s painful to see that it was for the reasons Kousuke stated. To see how the adults in their lives failed them and how ignoring and not fixing those broken bonds ended up yielding another bitter adult.

Anyway, just know you also don’t have to reply to this. I get carried away really often. Never could write something short to save my life. Loved reading your thoughts on the girls, too. 

In the end, I hope Alyssa can live for herself. I hope she finds out who she truly is and what she really wants and becomes unapologetically herself—whoever that turns out to be once she cuts away from Yui’s fake hair (that imagery was so good.)

ILY FP 219 (or, The One That Went to the Top of My Favorites List)

Hehehe is that an enticing enough, non-spoiler preview for you? lol I want so badly to tell everyone WHY they should be sure to FP this episode, but I don’t want to ruin it for anyone. Not that I think knowing what’s in there will ruin it, but I think the impact of going into it without knowing is just SO MUCH MORE POWERFUL. It’s BEAUTIFUL okay? That’s why you should read it - it’s beautiful! 

Keep reading

[static-fanatic-1]

Tattooed-Uvogin

(Tattoo Soulmate AU- Where tattoos are shared by soulmates, if a soulmate dies then the other looses their ability to have nen and the tattoo disappears. I love soulmate AU's, they're fun. Also when Uvogin gets the spider tattoo he will be 24.)

(Female Reader)

College is usually portrayed in two ways, absolutely fantastic where breaking into song is the norm, or a horrid experience akin to horny Lovecraftian creatures. In this case the song song type of college is the norm.

Most individuals in college receive a tattoo, whether it be their own or their soulmates. Usually it is a happy occasion when that happens. Most would flaunt their new mark and spit out how much they wanted to meet their soulmate, but (y/n) was an exception.

Junior year, the hope of a new age of adulthood quickly coming up. The twenty-two old started to strip. Why strip? Well because she had decided to wait her junior year to get her athletic credit, and because she wanted to see a tattoo if she were to get one. But the first reason is what people think. Practically tearing off the jacket she wore and tossing it onto a bench, (y/n) jumped at the sudden shrieks and hollers from across the room.

"Lilith! Holy shit look!" Deciding to see what the commotion was about, (y/n) leaned over to watch the event unfold. On her lower back, almost covered by her shoulder length blonde hair, was a beautiful koi tattoo. As if swimming the splash of blue, orange and cream colors contrasted beautifully with her deep skin tone.

"What?! Oh my god show me!" Lilith squealed, pushing away girls to get to the nearest mirror. The brightest smile decorated her pink lips and when she finally saw the new mark on her shoulder, she waved around her hands and jumped with unrivaled joy. "I can't fucking believe it!"

"Do you think he just turned 21? Like today's his birthday or something?" Another girl exclaimed, staring at the inked shin with awe.

"Probably! Most people get them when they turn 21. God I'm so excited! I'm posting this everywhere to see if someone answers."

More girls crowded around Lilith, the light tapping of gentle fingers bringing (y/n) back to her senses. Turning around the female met with her dearest friend. "What?"

"Ms. Venal will snap at us if we aren't ready, best not to get on her bad side again. She might make us do push-ups for a warm up again." The soft voice and her light brown hair and eyes pairing nicely with her shy personality.

"Oh shit you're right." Swiftly (y/n) moved back to the back of the locker room, pulling off her pants at the same time. Replacing them with gym shorts with the school logo she quickly followed by her favorite shirt.

Grabbing the school shirt she jumped when someone grabbed her shoulders from behind. "(Y/n)! Your back!"

Before (y/n) could protest she was pulled to her friends locker with a hand mirror shoved in her face. Hesitantly she grabbed it and moved it around her face, trying to see what Jessy was talking about. Finally, a large dark tattoo revealed itself on her lower back, spider legs and a white eleven in the center.

"Looks like a spider, but with twelve legs? Weird." Jessy replied, lightly tracing the many legs now inked into her friend's skin. "You seem... disappointed? (Y/n) you good?"

(Y/n) shrugged, surprisingly it was underwhelming compared to what she thought it would be like. I mean the weird spider on her back was the key to finding her soulmate right? Yet it still felt like a normal school day. "Kinda underwhelming I guess."

"Hey (y/n), you got one too? I honestly thought you wouldn't get one." The snarky voice of Lilith echoed in the locker room, a new hand placing itself on (y/n)'s shoulder. "A spider, really?"

(Y/n) gritted her teeth, Jessy moving to put on the last of her clothes. "They probably just like spiders, so what?"

"Looks like they don't know how to count, that's sad." Lilith remarked, poking at the inked flesh. "Didn't you get a tattoo not too long ago, what was it again?"

"A (favorite animal)." (Y/n) mumbled grabbing her school shirt and putting it on.

"Wow, classic."

(Y/n) pretty much had enough of this and turned to the blonde with vigor. Placing a figure on the new koi fish tattoo. "Wow, classic cunt."

The blonde scoffed, but was quickly interrupted when the teacher called out. "Girls, hurry up or you all are going to do more push-ups!"

Lilith mumbles underneath her breath, venomous words that didn't pass (y/n). "Go fuck yourself." She had said.

In a last ditch effort to get some satisfaction, the (h/c) haired girl turned to the blonde and smiled. "After you."

Man school was just dandy.

~~~

For some reason the drive home felt longer than usual, the songs uninteresting and slow.  But that didn't stop the sigh of relief when entering her home. Maybe telling her parents about the tattoo would bring up her spirits? They always wanted to see what it would end up being.

"Momma! I'm home!" (Y/n) yelled, letting the fact sink in to any occupants.

She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a snack, and paused. Her dad, usually sitting with his back straight and glasses on, now held his lenses with his face in his hand. "Hey dad, you're home early. Everything alright?"

Swiftly his head shot up, (h/c) hair messy unlike usual. "Huh? Oh, yeah yeah I'm fine, just a lot of work is all. We're still trying to find who stole Ruby Red, that jewel is worth a few billion Jenny."

The man's daughter pulled a chair and sat down across from him, opening her snack to start eating it. "I still can't believe someone was able to take it, isn't the security pretty high?"

"Yup, and Ruby Red wasn't the only thing they took. They took a few other gems too." Her mother butted in, placing a kiss upon her husband's cheek. "Whoever did it defiantly had help, you're dad placed too many security guards for it to have been one guy."

(Y/n) furrowed her brows, the fact it was more than one person sans all too surprising, but how did they get past the armed guards in the first place? "So what exactly happened? Like to the guards I mean."

"Well... that's just it. We don't know." The dad rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve the tension that had built. "They just vanished... poof, gone. No sign of a struggle, no blood, all of it gone."

The mother removed her hand and pulled up a chair, sitting down and taking a sip of whatever is in her mug. "Yeah, pretty crazy stuff. I've been looking through the cameras and I think they have been tampered with. Whoever took the merchandise wasn't a rookie. They knew what they were doing."

"Who do you guys think did it? The mafia?" The daughter asked, looking at both her parents.

"A new group has been floating around, something called the Phantom Troupe. They are pretty much the worst of the worst." The brunette mother replied, placing her cup down and getting more comfortable.

"Worse than the mafia?" (Y/n) questioned.

"Pretty much, this gang took out the entire Kurta clan just a few months ago. They took their eyes and everything." There was a pause, easily taken up by the gravity of the situation her parents were in.

Her father butted in. "Anyway, anything happened at school? How's Jessy doing, she can come over for dinner tonight too. Martha said she was making lobster claws and steak."

"Ah, well, Jessy's doing fine and I'm sure she'd love to come over again. I'll go ahead and text her." (Y/n) pulled out her phone and did just that, asking if her friend wanted to come over again.

"What else, I feel like your hiding something." Martha asked, leaning closer to her daughter with a sly smile.

Small bits of sweat started to form on her brow, right now didn't exactly seem like a good time to talk about an odd tattoo. "Well I cursed someone out, that was fun."

Her dad groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh my god was it that Lilith bitch again?"

"Edgar!" Martha snapped, slapping the man on his shoulder and she lightly scolded him. The both of them knew their daughters relationship with that girl. All they had to say is if the coward ever threw a punch, to lay her ass on that ground. (Y/n) was still waiting for her to throw it.

A small ping from a phone ringed, the daughter pulling hers out and slightly smiling. At least when Jessy comes over she would have emotional support over the weird tattoo. "Yeah, it was her again. Anyway, mom do you want any help, Jessy said she would come over."

"Sure, honey. I'd like that."

~~~

The air was tense, sweat slowly forming on (y/n)'s brows as her dearest friend babbled on and on about her early day bravery. "Lilith couldn't say a word to us for the rest of the day! It was hilarious." Jessy boasted, laughing at the sense painted in her head.

Though Martha and Edgar looked at their daughter dumbfounded. "Sooo, is there a reason why you didn't tell us about your new tattoo?" The mother asked, leaning on her elbow with her head in her hand.

"Ah, well you know, it's kinda embarrassing."

"Seriously, you didn't tell them?!"

"I said it's embarrassing!" (Y/n) reinstated, moving her hands in front of her face to attempt stopping the forming blush.

"So! Show us!" Martha exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

(Y/n) grumbled a bit and stood up from her chair, lightly pulling up the back of her shirt. On her lower back the sideways spider laid, twelve legs spread out for the world to see.

Silence followed, the air thicker than it once was. "Yeah, it's a little weird. Honestly it was underwhelming getting it." (Y/n) tried to release the growing tension with a light laugh, though it didn't do much.

"Y-Yeah, it is a little weird isn't it?" Edgar had replied, moving to lightly trace his fingers on the inked skin. "Well I don't think most people have twelve-legged spiders on their backs so it shouldn't be too difficult to find out who this guy is."

~~~

Those words meant so much now, after seeing the news talk about Ruby Red's disappearance and how it was linked to a group of mass murderers, the words felt heavy.

Changing to homeschooling was the first thing to happen, as having people see such a dangerous tattoo could endanger your family. Hunters would travel far and wide to catch the soulmate of a Phantom Troupe member, to sell or kill them for the highest price tag. So being around other reckless students was a big no-no.

Next was their home, moving to the outskirts of York New city to start fresh, where no one would know who they were. Getting a new job wasn't too difficult for Martha and Edgar, as security personnel was important everywhere.

Though (y/n) herself wasn't allowed a job, too risky they would say. And Jessy, well at least she was still there. The friend would visit every so often to catch up, and texting each other became an everyday occurrence.

It had been five years since that dinner, and now fear and anxiety ruled over (y/n)'s life. Walking on the streets it seemed every passerby was a possible hunter, just waiting to catch her and slit her throat.

(Y/n) could only trust Jessy and her parents.

The ringing of a phone smacked the female from her train of thoughts, papers she was once working on discarded. Picking up the device and placing it on her ear, a sweet voice rang with an excited undertone. "Yo, (y/n). Whatcha up to?"

A delicate smile pulled at the (h/c) haired lips. "Fine, just doing mom and dads paperwork. Kinda the only job they'll let me have."

There a was a light hearted laugh on the other side of the phone. "Well I'm going to have a few days off of work it you want to meet up and have a few drinks. I'll be coming in sometime tomorrow evening if you want to meet up then?"

"I'd love to, I'll just have to ask mom and dad, you know how they are."

"Yeah, can't blame them though. I mean it's scary."

"Yeah... I'll call you a little later with an answer okay? See you later Jessy, tell me when you get here and I'll pick you up from the airport."

"Alright, sounds good to me! Bye-bye!"

"Bye." Her smile faded when the phone call ended, at least it wouldn't be too bad. Now she just had to get on her knees and beg her parents.

Searching through the apps on the phone she ended up on the calling one, but paused. 'I'll just ask them when they get home, I'll drive over there soon.' Tossing the electronic on her bed (y/n) sighed and leaned back in her seat.

~~~

After plenty of begging and a semi-long drive to the airport, the now ecstatic girls drove around the city to wherever this bar was.

"Okay okay, (y/n), don't get mad at me but I invited a few other friends." Jessy timidly said, scrunching her body as close as possible to her seat.

"Who?" Was all said, making the other girl all the more afraid of an anxious outburst.

"Just a girl I met the bar once, her name is Shizuku. She said she's bringing another friend over, another girl. Don't worry though she's a bit of an airhead, an absolute sweetheart once you get to know her." Jessy relaxed, not noticing any changes with her friend's behavior. "Sorry I wanted to tell you but if you told Edgar and Martha they probably wouldn't have let you go! I just really wanted to hang out with you."

"Don't worry, mom and dad don't have to know." (Y/n) turned and gave a small wink before turning back to the road.

Jessy sighed, relieved to finally have some fun without much worry. "Oh oh! Right here!" The car slowly drove into the parking lot, the two searching for a spot to park. "Oh! They're over there." The two girls exited and quickly made their way to another pair.

The first girl Jessy walked to and hugged had shoulder length black hair and large round glasses. Large, plum doe like eyes gazed at (y/n) with innocent intrigue. Her casual wear consisting of a long black sleeved shirt and black shorts complimented her hourglass body type. She honestly looked adorable.

The other was a blonde clearly taller than her ravenette friend. Calculating eyes, short hair in a bob and a hooked nose gave her a demanding audience. The woman wore a red, low cut baby doll dress that ended on her mid thigh, and black heels making her even taller.

"Okay guys, this is (y/n), she's been my friend ever since middle school." Jessy placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, (y/n) shyly waving and saying hello. "And (y/n) this is Shizuku and her number two, Pakunoda." They too did the same thing.

"Alrighty! Now that we have all the introductions out of the way!" Exclaimed Jessy, grabbing (y/n)'s hand and waving for the other two to follow. "Let's get absolutely trashed!"

Pakunoda snorted and followed, all four of them entering the not-so-much-a-bar-as-it-is-a-club building.

Jessy grabbed a table, putting some of her things down to mark it as her own. "I'll go ahead and get something to get this party started! Anything in particular you guys want?"

Shizuku places a finger on her chin, deep in thought. Pakunoda wrapped an arm around the ravenette and shook her head. "Surprise us."

(Y/n) quickly waved her hands. "Don't get me something strong, I'll be the designated driver." She laughed, Shizuku finally making up her mind.

"Something fruity!"

She did somewhat seem like an airhead.

After plenty of drinks for the four, and pleasant conversation between the girls, Jessy was finally breaking under the alcohol. Her slim build swaying even when she sat in the booth's chair. "Y'all wanna hear a funny story? Or at least its funny to me." She slurred.

Pakunoda, sitting on the outside of the curved booth, leaned in. "Sure." Elbow now on the table and head in her hand. A delicate smile etched onto her lips, her eyes calculating as an extra hand served her drink.

(Y/n) listened to her start talking about Lilith, the old school bully having many stories about her. "I'm going to go to the restroom." She tapped Jessy's shoulders and moved over and out of the conversation.

Shizuku listened carefully to the slurring female, Pakunoda doing the same. Slowly the story became interesting, talking about receiving tattoos and snapping at the girl named Lilith.

But more importantly, a tattoo received on a lower back. (Y/n)'s lower back.

By the time said female returned all had paused, both Shizuku and Pakunoda silent but attentive. Jessy moved over to let her friend back in the booth they had claimed, Pakunoda placing a slender arm across her shoulders. "You have quite the temper don't you?"

Remembering what they had been talking about, the comment didn't surprise (y/n) all that much. "Lilith? Haha, yeah I hated her. She was difficult to deal with, always trying to one up everyone." (Y/n) waved her hand around to dismiss her temper, truly she couldn't stand people like Lilith. "Don't worry I'm much better now." Again she lightly laughed.

"You seem like it, you're so shy. I honestly didn't expect a story like that." Paku replied, leaning in a little closer.

"Which one was it? I've kinda snapped at her a lot."

"The one where ya' finally got yer tattoo~!" Jessy replied, sandwiching the poor girl between the two.

(Y/n)'s entire body went rigid, her breathing slightly labored by her hammering heartbeat. 'No, no, no Jessy couldn't have told that story, she wouldn't. She knows how dangerous it is for me already, telling people would make it worse!'

She would be hunted by hunters and the Phantom Troupe alike if the wrong people were to find out.

Doing her best to relax, her shoulders not so tense anymore. "Ye-Yeah, it's a bit of a strange one but I don't mind it too much. What time is it?"

Shizuku looked at her phone, her mouth wishing to yap about how Uvogin would love the girl. Or how Uvogin is just a call away from finding his soulmate. OR ANYTHING RELATED! But alas, the bone crushing grip placed on her thigh along with straight up saying it earlier, told her to shut it.

Now with a pouting face she checked the time. "It's 12:48."

Mumbling a short 'shit', (y/n) grabbed her purse and stood up. "Sorry! I was supposed to go home an hour ago!" She examined her phone with a pale face, not just from her tattoo being revealed, but the endless messages from her parents. "Does anyone need a ride?"

Jessy leaned in more, her lips ghosting (y/n)'s ear. "I would love to ride."

Pushing her drunk friend off, (y/n) made her way out of the booth, Jessy wrapped in her arms as the girl stumbled. "You two?"

Shizuku lifted her finger, her mouth opening to speak, but was quickly stopped when a hand smacked itself on her lips. "Don't worry about us." Paku replied, waving a dismissive hand.

"Al-alright. Well we'll be off then, take care!" Quickly grabbing her things, and Jessy, the two slipped out of the club.

Shizuku smacked Paku's hand away and pushed up her glasses. "What was that for?!"

Pakunoda shifted out of her seat, looking around at the other inhabitants of the establishment. "You were going to say something about Uvo, weren't you?"

The ravenette pursed her lips and turned away, scooting out of the booth as well. "So what if I was? It wouldn't stop us from getting her anyway." Whined the girl.

"It would have made getting her harder, she's already cautious of everyone." The two girls exited the bar, stopping to watch (y/n)'s car drive away. "Besides it won't be too difficult for Shalnark to find her."

"Didn't you touch her?" Shizuku pushed her glasses up once more, turning to wonder off to home base.

"Of course, she was very anxious the entire time, and she was weary of us from the beginning."

The ravenette hummed, both wondering through the lit up city. Smoke polluted the air of the alleyways they traveled through, the moonlight basking the criminals in an ethereal glow. The alleyway became too quiet, the once light sounds of buzzing insects feasting on the dumpsters silenced.

The girls stopped, looking at the empty sidewalk in front of them. They could sense two individuals, on in front of them and the other behind. Were the stalkers going to try and jump them? Did they know who they are? Well it doesn't matter, the stalkers will be dead soon.

"Well well well," A gruff voice echoed from behind. "Looks like the butterflies flew into the spider's web. How about you two be sweethearts and tell me about that friend of yours? The one with the (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes."

Shizuku turned around to face the man, noting the switch blade open and poised in his hands. "He has a knife, Paku."

The man 'tsk'ed slowly walking closer to the girls. Paku stared straight ahead, the other stalker finally revealing himself, a scrawny man with a baggy shirt and large knife.

Pakunoda sighed and pulled out her revolver, aiming straight between the scrawny man's eyes. "Never bring a knife to a gun fight." A quick pull of the trigger and a loud bang caused the man to fall over, a small hole oozing blood and smoke between his glossy orbs.

Shizuku summoned Blinky and with a quick bonk on his head, the gruff voiced man collapsed to the ground.

"Shizuku, is he dead?"

"I didn't hit him that hard." With a hum and a finger on his neck. "Nope, he's alive."

"Good." She swayed over to the man and placed a hand upon his cheek. A rush of memories and emotions entered her mind, like the ripples in water. "They weren't alone, they called others before following us. We should hurry before they find her first."

"They'll kill her won't they?"

"Probably."

"Uvogin would loose his nen if that happened, hmm, we can't let that happen."

Nothing new happened after their encounter, the dark streets now baron by the late night and the rundown buildings. Turning the corner to enter the hideout, a face revealed itself, young and distressed, their thin black brows furrowed.

No words were exchanged, the girls entering without a care. A sigh left the short man's lips as he walked with them into the church. "Machi had a feeling again. What happened?"

Shizuku hopped her way onto a pile of rubble and sat down with an impassive expression. "We were attacked by some thugs on our way back. Though, it was more like a one-way-massacre."

The entire Troupe was in the broken down office building, there were preparing to infiltrate a museum filled with priceless artifacts, but it might have to be postponed.

Feitan didn't look at Shizuku, already knowing her information may very well be useless. "Paku?"

"Shizuku's friend brought a number two as well, she just so happened to be a soulmate." Pakunoda teased, crossing her arms.

The small group playing cards stopped, even Chrollo averted his eyes from his book of interest. Feitan's brows lifted slightly, probably in surprise.

"Ah! That happened too."

Franklin snorted, placing down his cards and shifting to face Paku. Shalnark, Nodunaga, Machi, Kortopi, Bonolenov, and Franklin were huddled up in a small circle playing cards, though the game was now paused. Uvogin, the secret star of the show, was rooting for Nodu to finally win a game. "Who?"

A delicate smirk etched itself on her features, a slender finger pointing to the bear-like man sitting behind Nobunaga.

With that action taken, the bear-like man grabbed Nobunaga and wrapped his arm around his head. The other hand pulling out the ponytail and messing up his hair as a boisterous laughs echoed throughout the building.

Franklin smacked a hand on Uvogin's shoulder and congratulated them, Nobu yelling for Uvo to let go. Once he finally let him go, the shorter man smacked Uvo.

Uvogin didn't exactly care, all he knew is that his soulmate was found and that she was his next target. "Keep talking Paku." Uvo kindly ordered, curiosity taking hold.

"Well she's pretty cute, (h/l) (h/c) hair, bright (e/c) eyes. She's pretty attentive." Pakunoda waved her hands around, finding a seat on the opposite side of the large room.

Another hearty laugh escaped the bellows of his chest. "Finally! Took her long enough." He exclaimed, clapping and rubbing hands together. "Where is she?"

Pakunoda shrugged. "Her name is (y/n) (l/n), Shal will have to figure that out."

Chrollo hummed, grabbing the attention of the room. "Uvo, once you find out where she lives I want you to get her, it would be a shame if you lost your nen." He paused and placed a bookmark in his spot. "Paku does anyone else know?"

The blonde nodded her head. "Yes, the thugs overheard and called a few of their friends. I don't know how many."

Chrollo hummed once more, leaning in a bit closer to the group. "Once Shal figures out her whereabouts I want you and Nabu to go with Uvo. And be cautious, we don't know how strong the hunters will be."

Uvogin laughed, hands on his hips as he threw his head back. "I will."

"Found her!" Shalnark yelped, a bright smile stretched across his cheeks. "(Y/n) (l/n), lives in the New Found Apartment Complex about three blocks from her parents. Oh! Edgar and Martha (l/n), they work as security managers for the museum we were targeting." Shalnark excitedly exclaimed, waving his phone around in the air. "I'll send you the address, Uvo."

Feitan quirked an eyebrow. "She might know which hunters were hired to protect the exhibit."

Chrollo hummed once more, returning to his book with a calm expression. "That might be the case, if so then there we could be better prepared." The sultry voice of the boss explained further her use, not just for Uvogin but the entire team.

Uvogin cracked his knuckles, waving to Nobunaga and Pakunoda to follow. "Consider it done."

~~~

(Thats it everyone! Sadly Wattpad allows for larger chapters so this will be put into two parts to accomadate.)

[random-imagines-blog]

Broken {Charles Xavier x Platonic!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2891 Summary: Like most people in stories, you didn’t have a good upbringing. But luckily a professor in a wheelchair comes to give you that happy ending.

Hate was a language that you knew too well. It was the language that you had grown up with, because it was all that your parents had spoke. There might have been love behind those fake smiles at one point or another but you didn’t remember it. You can’t claim to have ever seen it. They were dishonest, they were suspicious, they were greedy. They saw that you had an ability and they wanted to use it to their advantage, no matter what it had done to you. If you touched someone, you could see their dirtiest secrets, their disgusting desires, the darkest part of their soul. When you are six years old and your father is forcing you to touch the hands of men in order to blackmail them, you grow terrified, and also distrustful of the world. You were absolutely traumatized. You had no friends growing up, no boyfriends, no girlfriends, you didn’t even trust animals. You never ran away from home, because at least there, you weren’t hurt. You wore gloves to keep the evils of the world at bay - when your parents didn’t utilize you. It was a horrible life for a child.

You were sixteen when Charles Xavier first approached you. It had taken a while to find you - you weren’t anywhere near New York State. But he had been branching out more and more, taking on students from around the country rather than just their area. He had talked to you outside of your home, and you hadn’t been trusting in the slightest, not until you heard his voice inside of your head saying that it was okay if you wanted to touch his hand. He wanted you to trust him.

But you refused. And he accepted that, which was a relief because you didn’t often get to walk away unscathed from meetings with weird men. He left you with a brochure though, making sure that he didn’t get close enough to make you uncomfortable. You snuck it into your room and kept it under your mattress, lest your parents find out. They would absolutely forbid you from going to a school with other mutants. You brought it out every few nights and read over the text though. A chance to learn how to control your powers so you wouldn’t have to see the evil in people? It was hard to believe that such a thing could be possible, but you held out hope nonetheless. Anywhere would be better than here.

-

On your eighteenth birthday, you ran away. You were an adult and your parents could no longer make you do anything. You climbed on board a bus that was headed to New York, and you would find your way from there. Completely covered from head to toe - thankfully it was winter - you lessened any effect from your powers, and managed to get along without finding out even more about the lack of humanity in people. If this didn’t work ... you might have no choice but to take your own life.

You arrived in New York City in the morning. The big city was an amazement to behold. You bought a newspaper and were amazed that there were even that many writers working. And not a trace of anything like mutants. Not a trace of anything evil either. A lot of it was about pop culture, which was something that you were very behind on and didn’t care much about either way. But at least it helped you to understand all of the billboards that you saw in the city center.

It didn’t take long, however, for you start feeling lonely. Holding the well-read brochure in one hand and the newspaper in the other, you found a payphone and punched in the phone number typed in bold letters. Someone named Hank answered, and transferred you right away to the person named Charles Xavier without question. So far, it was the most promising thing in your life, and you clutched onto that phone as if it was a buoy in a stormy sea.

“Charles Xavier,” The smooth voice said into the earpiece.

“H-Hi,” You said, your heart beating quickly with nerves. “You might not remember me but my name is y/n y/l/n, and you approached me two years ago-”

“Of course I remember you, love,” The man said softly. “You’ve been on my mind. Seeing the darkness in people, am I remembering right?”

“Seeing their darkest desires and deeds,” You said, feeling something akin to relief. You don’t know how he found out about your powers but at the moment, you didn’t care. “I’m technically an adult now, and I managed to get away from my parents. I’m in New York and I was wondering...”

“Of course, of course, we will send out a car to come and collect you, if that is what you want.”

“I want to be better,” You muttered into the silence. “So yes - I need to learn how to be better.”

“You are perfect the way that you are, I promise you that. We’re leaving in five minutes and we’ll be there within a couple of hours. Where would you like to meet?”

You were so unused to positivity that you literally had to swallow tears at his words. “I umm - I’m near a hotel - The Roosevelt.”

“Okay, we’ll meet you there. And I just want you to know, y/n, that if you ever decide that you don’t want to stay with us, I will personally help to set you up wherever you want to go. I want to make that clear, since I understand that you have been mistreated in the past.”

“Thank you,” You said, sinking to your knees on the dirty ground. Charles hung up on the other line, and you stayed there on the ground, the phone dangling on the cord. Whatever this was - it was mystical. You waited for him there, not moving for the time that it took for a van to come and collect you.

Charles was the same as you remembered, though his hair had gotten longer. The wheelchair was pulled out of the back of the van, and a blonde man with a smile helped to put Charles into it. “Y/N ... are you alright?” He asked, coming towards you without much effort at all. Of course he would have a highly-powered wheelchair  rather than a push one.

You looked into his blue eyes and for the first time in your life, you felt a sense of safety. He meant what he had put in the brochure, right down to the letter. He would take care of you, and protect you.

-

Your first few days were very overwhelming. The school was bustling with activity at just about every moment. People were extremely friendly, which was even more anxiety-provoking because you just could not trust them. After Charles himself had given you the tour, you were left alone in your room, which was the only room you felt comfortable in at the moment.

You had a lock on your door and you took advantage of it. The bed was just a single, which was smaller than the one at home, and there was a dresser, a desk, a lamp and a chair. It was sparse, but Charles had assured you that you could make the room your own in any way that you wanted. He said that sometimes the students go to the city on weekends and you were more than welcome to join them to buy some furnishings. He even offered to give you a monthly allowance if you helped to tidy up around the school. It was something you would think about, as long as you got to do it alone.

Most of the students were around your age. Some were older, some were younger. They may not have had the time to produce dark desires or do anything really horrible, but you didn’t want to take the risk of accidentally seeing something.

You stayed in your room throughout the weekend, until Sunday night came, and the panic along with it. Your parents had homeschooled you, not wanting to risk you getting out of the house and never returning. So tomorrow was going to be your first time in a classroom with a group of people since you were in kindergarden.  

What if you bumped elbows with someone? You would have to wear long sleeves, make sure all of your skin was covered. The gloves definitely. Would a sweater be amiss?

You sat on your bed, head between your knees, your breathing starting to hitch. A panic attack, you knew these too well. They were an old but unwanted friend. If you were panicking, it meant that you were alive, which was a good thing. And this seemed to be a safe place, but you couldn’t trust anything anymore. Home was meant to be a safe place. Had you run from one hell to another without realizing it?

Your cheeks felt wet. Your nose felt stuffed. Your mind felt loud. But despite all of these sensations, you heard the knock at the door. It sounded as if you were underwater and it was far away. But you didn’t answer it. No one needed to see you like this. You didn’t even want to look at yourself like this.

“Y/N, are you alright in there?” Charles asked. It seemed like whenever you spoke to him, he felt the need to ask you that. It seems like he already knew you all too well. “Y/N, can you open the door please?”

You didn’t answer the comforting voice. You were afraid that if you moved, you might actually have a heart attack and die right here and right now. You missed where Charles politely asked someone to fetch the masterkey for the doors, but you still did not flinch when the door swung open and he came in uninvited. At least he closed the door behind him.

“I understand how you feel,  y/n,” Charles said, coming right up to your bed. He didn’t touch you though, he just spoke. It was strange but as he expressed this understanding to you, you began to feel calm. Like his soothing voice was penetrating your head and filling up the spaces where the panic was, forcing it to leave. You finally had the strength to lift yourself up and look at him.  

“How can you possibly know?” You questioned. “When you found me two years ago, did you know what I could do? Did you know where I had been that very day and what I had to see? How could you still let me in if you knew all of that? I could have brought danger here - oh my God, what if the people my parents made me .... what if they follow me here because I know their secrets?”

Charles waited patiently until you got it all out. Only then did he begin to explain himself. “I am a telepath,” He didn’t say the words outloud, but you felt them inside of your head. As if it were your own thoughts. “I know what you can do, though I don’t know where you have been. I would never go through your mind like that, I promise. Your mutation gave you a distrust of the world, but I want you to understand that you can trust me.”

He held out his bare and fleshy palm to you. You stared at it without reaching for it. You wrapped your arms around your torso, trembling at the thought. This could ruin the place for you. If you saw something terrible, maybe something even Charles didn’t know himself...

“I want this to be a home to you, as long as you are here,” Charles implored. “And I want you to know more about me so that, in time, you can tell me more about you.”

“And if I don’t like what I see, I can leave, no questions asked?” You pleaded for the answer to that, needing to know that you had an out if you wanted it.

“Of course,” Charles said with a nod. You shuddered as you pulled the leather glove off of your hand, exposing it to the cool air inside of the room. He kept his hand out to you, without the least bit of hesitation. He wasn’t shaking, wasn’t wobbling, nothing. You never touched someone who knew about your power before. You were more nervous for it than he was.

You rested your hand on his, and your eyes closed of their own volition. It was as if you left your body and jumped into his, going through his thoughts, the worst of it being shown like a movie on a screen. You saw many, many things. There was a lot of anger, but it wasn’t towards anyone else. It was to himself. You saw the anger that he felt when Erik betrayed him, when Raven betrayed him, when he made a woman he was in love with forget him, when he turned his back on himself and turned into a recluse and abused a drug to get rid of his power in exchange for his legs. It was not at all like other things that you had seen in people’s minds.

It was dark, yes, but it was also terribly sad.

You found yourself crying once more, but on his behalf this time. When his face came back into view, you saw that he too had a tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t often bare my soul in order to get people to trust me, but I’m glad I made an exception for you,” He said, somehow still smiling.

“I think I’m ready to tell you of my experiences,” You hiccuped.

“Would you prefer to show me?” He asked.

“No. God, no,” You whispered, shaking your head. Your hand was back on your knee now, where you felt more comfortable. Charles had revealed enough. If you touched him again, there would only be more. “It’s easier to deal with if I put it into words, if that’s okay.”

As you told him about the many men that your parents had made you touch - pedophiles, murderers, embezzlers, thieves - you felt yourself falling under the weight of your words. The panic had exhausted you, as did the memories that were rushing forward. You didn’t even realize how heavy it was until you found your head on Charles’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind either. He just patted your back as you revealed that you knew the secrets of all of these bad men, but the most horrible part of it was you couldn’t even use the information to put them in prison like you should have. Instead, your parents were blackmailing them, using their secrets to get them to finance their lifestyle.

You felt worn out when you finished telling Charles everything, up until you had run away from home on your birthday and now here you were. And you realized that he was still touching your back, resting his hand on the fabric of the sweater that you were wearing indoors. It was so soft and comforting having someone take care of you like this. How many times had you laid alone in bed as a child and wished for your parents to do something similar? It was beyond count. This was the first time that you truly felt you could put trust into another human being.

There was a prolonged silence but it was comfortable. He continued to lightly stroke your back, and you got your breathing back to normal. “Thank you for telling me,” Charles said, breaking the quiet. “You should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, and I have some phone calls to make.”

You released yourself from him, though it was incredibly hard to do so since you were growing attached to the Professor. He was the closest thing to a friend you had, and this also meant that he was the closest thing to family that you had. “Are you going to make sure I didn’t see all of that for nothing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Charles smiled gently. “I still have friends in high places. Now get back into your bed. You have classes tomorrow, remember?”

“Do you think they’ll be able to help me?” You asked, figuring that the classes were more for people with physical powers. “Or that they won’t judge me?”

“They’ll help. I’ll make sure of it.” With that comfort in mind, you went under your covers, and rested your head upon the pillow.

“Thanks - for everything,” You said, realizing that he was holding one of your pieces. You had felt broken all of your life, and here was this kind man, taking care of you as if you were his daughter despite just meeting you.

“You’re welcome. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Charles.”

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 12

happy Chronicles update! I know I waited a while to post this one, but I feel like I’m in a good place to share it now. so, I hope you like it! it’s... an interesting one.

from: itsdjbubbles 29 July, 19:30. La Tortue. you and your group got a setlist?

to: itsdjbubbles i… could have a setlist. and we’re more of a band than a group.

from: itsdjbubbles hell yeah, dude. you’re in.

–––

just saw adrien agreste in person. In Person. i don’t think i can even afford his aura. or, like. the CO2 he’s breathing out?

no, i’m not going to say where. i’m not a total dickwad. just sometimes. mostly because my sister would come for me if i didn’t say so.

also, fellow parisians, who hopefully are not or have not been as much of a dumbass as me: watch this space for an announcement, maybe.

Adrien Agreste is right. There. In all his swoopy-blond-hair, thousand-euro-smile, million-euro-clothing glory. Hanging by the doorway, and seeing him standing at the register like an actual human being, and laughing like an actual human being, and paying with a debit card like an actual human being, is like looking into the goddamn sun. Or like standing in the weird static, plasma dimension that exists between the TV screen and real life. Or both.

Okay. Luka will admit that, for a time that now feels both distant and delirious, he… probably entertained a celebrity crush on Adrien Agreste. But it was short-lived, and it felt more like a warm fuzz in his stomach whenever he passed by those radiant advertisements for perfume, men’s clothing, even underwear. Really, the more he thought about it, the more he was just admitting that Adrien Agreste had a certain charm and attraction because he, like many people in Paris, had a functional pair of eyes.

It was… fantasy, really. Self-indulgent. The way most infatuation tends to be. Observation with a cause; he heard it once in a song.

Adrien Agreste is still standing right. There. At the register. And Luka hasn’t moved from the entrance. Not even when the door hits him unceremoniously in the back and the bell above it mocks him as it announces his arrival.

And then Adrien Agreste turns on his heel, slipping his wallet into his back pocket with one seemingly perfect hand and gripping a pastry box with the other, and Luka’s body reminds him to step aside. He does, still dumbstruck despite how Adrien Agreste literally smiles at him and says good morning, and the door closes behind him again, and not for the first time in his life, Luka forgets what words are or how to string them together.

When he comes to his senses and makes peace with the fact that he just shared the same breathing air as a real-live supermodel, he notices—even from this far away—that Marinette is wearing that expression again. The one from the park. The one he wishes never existed—because even if this is another observation with a cause, he at least has the good sense to know that Marinette Dupain-Cheng does not deserve to look so sad, no matter how many smiles she layers on top of it.

Until now, it seems like Marinette’s only been looking past him, but when her eyes finally settle on him, she perks up a bit from her place at the register. “You dyed your hair,” she says by way of greeting, and he swears her face starts to glow. Or maybe it always was glowing. Maybe it wasn’t because of him.

“Uh,” he replies, because when has he ever been smooth when she’ s looking at him like that? or at all? “Technically, Jules did.” He says it hurriedly, so neither of them has to worry about it or talk about it, but then she has to go and tell him that it looks good on him, and his words have to get stuck on his tongue again when he says, “Thanks, I grew it myself.”

Kill him. Now. He’s ready. Juleka can have his guitar.

“So,” he goes on, a little perkier than he means to, but it’s probably for the best. “That was, uh… that Adrien Agreste guy, huh? You know him or something?”

Marinette’s expression is almost unreadable. It is hard to tell if she regrets knowing Adrien, or if she thinks Luka must be living under a rock because everyone knows who Adrien Agreste is. She snaps back to herself soon enough, and she’s browsing the pastry cases as though it’s her responsibility to find something good for him. “We used to go to middle school together,” she explains. “Just for a while. I even used to have this mondo crush on him. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah,” Luka says, because he can’t count how many times he’s imagined her in love, much less how many times he’s imagined other people in love with her. “Huh. I pegged him as the type to get homeschooled or something.” He tosses a glance behind him, just to see if the limo is still there, but it’s long since peeled away. “What… happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You…” He pauses. “You said, ‘used to?’”

“Oh,” she says, half-flippant, with a sheepish laugh to match. “Y’know.”

Luka narrows his eyes. “No, I don’t,” he says. “That’s… why I asked?” Even though he maybe, definitely shouldn’t have because it maybe, definitely isn’t his business.

Marinette shrugs, busies herself with boxing up a selection. He doesn’t even have to ask. (Is it good that he doesn’t have to ask?) “I switched schools. That’s all. Turns out absence doesn’t really make the heart grow fonder after all.”

It doesn’t sound like that’s all, especially if the bittersweet look on her face has anything to say about it, but who is he to push? Who is he to do anything but peek into her life and feel grateful, privileged, for what she’s allowed him?

“Anyway,” she goes on; it’s mesmerizing, watching her multitask. The grace with which she can open herself up, so clipped, while taping a box shut. “Our friend is making this music video for a summer class he’s taking. He’s really into film, you know? And we’re playing opposite each other in it. I guess he wanted to come by and chat about it, but I think he had something else in mind.”

Luka’s brow furrows.

When Marinette turns, box in hand, her lips scrunch up awkwardly. Like she’s the one who doesn’t know what to say this time. “Now he’s the one who…”

Oh. Well. Fuck.

“I turned him down,” she adds with a shrug. “In high school. And we’re still… sort of friends. We text and stuff, have a couple of mutual friends. I just get the sense those feelings—his, I mean—never really went away. There’s just… something I can’t shake. Do you know what I mean?”

Does he know what she means? Does he feel? He nods, dumbly, and maybe this moment separated by a counter and a cash register isn’t supposed to be as deep and twisted and thorny as it is. But it is, and it feels that way because he feels, and he wonders if she feels it, too. If there are parts of her that never went away, either.

“Sorry,” Marinette blurts out once the moment ends—too soon, as far as he’s concerned. “You didn’t ask to hear all that.”

“I don’t mind.” Luka offers her a smile because it’s the best thing he has on him. “Life stories, remember?”

She smiles back. It’s slow, and knowing, and it makes him melt in his shoes. “Are you gonna make a song about it, Music Man?”

Okay. Okay. Wow.

Maybe it was worth staying alive for literally this one moment.

“I could write a song about it,” he says; it’s a miracle he doesn’t stammer. “Would you come and listen to it?”

“In the park?”

“At a gig.”

Marinette looks surprised, and then impressed, and damn if he doesn’t want to keep doing things that make her make that face. “Maybe I will,” she says, almost demure, like he asked her on a date or something. (Did he? Ask her on a date?) She looks just past him, and when he follows her gaze it lands on a bulletin board by the door. “Maybe you should swing by with a flyer or something.”

“Maybe I will.” Wow, two for two. He takes the box, reaches for his wallet. “I’ll watch that video, too, we’ll call it even—”

Her hand is on his before he can even pull out his card. And it isn’t until after she’s pushed his wallet back toward him that it finally registers that she’s touched him. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “It’s on the house. Just bring the flyer, and then we’ll call it even.”

Luka looks between her and the box a number of times, too many questions on his tongue to get any of them out. Why is she being so nice to him? why does she insist on giving him things he hasn’t worked for, or finding loopholes to prove that he did work for it? Is she flirting with him? Or does she pity him? Or is she just being nice because he’s one of her parents’ regulars? Or does she… does she, maybe…

He holds his breath, and searches her eyes, and gets lost in the music he’s still sort of trying to place. He slips his wallet into his back pocket all the same, and he takes the box from her, and it’s ridiculous how fiercely he wishes he could feel her fingers brush the back of his hand again. “You got a deal,” he murmurs—mentally kicks himself for sounding so out of touch. He backs out of the store like it’s illegal to tear his eyes away; it feels like it is, when she’s smiling at him like that. The Not For Customers smile.

Admittedly, he wonders if she ever gave Adrien Agreste that smile, once upon a time.

Maybe he shouldn’t have wondered, because his back bumps right into the door, and the bell above it jingles as though it’s annoyed. But Marinette isn’t; in fact, she giggles behind a hand, and she gives him a little wave like she’s going to keep the memory safe in the pocket of her apron. He manages a weak laugh, and a wave of his own, and then he’s stumbling out the door and walking his bike to the first open bench he can find. He needs to sit down. Put his head in his hands for a while.

Because he thinks she just flirted with him. And he thinks he flirted right back. And he knows she just touched him, in spite of everything she told him about Adrien, in spite of him being right. There. And it’s all finally, finally sinking in, and the world is spinning in a way he’s not really used to, and…

Maybe he just needs a sugar boost.

Shaking his head and sighing, he pops the seal on the pastry box, fully prepared to find a half dozen napoleons inside. There aren’t—only two pastries.

One napoleon.

And one pear tart.

His heart stutters. Makes up for how he didn’t before.

That’s how it gets him.

hey mom? mr. president? deity of indeterminate gender?

how do i go about legally changing my name to Music Man?

you know. hypothetically.

[yannfredericks]

PLEASE talk about your polly backstory 👀

omg ty SO much for asking!!! 🥺 (and sorry for taking far too long to answer!!)

To me, polly shows obvious signs of being an only child with a massive inferiority complex instilled by her parents for not meeting their outrageous expectations, but I think that’s only if you’re specifically looking to understand why she is the way she is and not just writing her off as Pretty Popular Girl Is A Bitch :) This has gotten very long so I'll put it under a read more!

So in my mind, she’s not only an only child, but the only gryffindor in an all slytherin family. Her family were ~almost~ in the sacred 28 (which they pride themselves on) and only missed out due to the ‘unfortunate’ choice of partners a very select few of their ancestors made. They weren’t necessarily on Voldemort’s side, but I wouldn’t say that they were overly opposed either, I imagine they mostly kept themselves to themselves and skirted by by keeping up appearances and being friendly with, but not close enough to end up entangled with, pure blood extremist families. So not great people needless to say, quite cowardly too in all honesty for all their ambitions of being amongst the likes of the Malfoys. While this mostly concerns her grandparents, they raised her parents to have the same values and general outlook on life.

So then we come to Polly’s childhood. Her parents never really loved her unconditionally so much as loved the idea of her being the golden child to restore their name and carry on their legacy. Which was unfortunate when she failed to show any signs of magic for the first 9/10 years of her life. They didn’t have any real time for her being a child and mostly regarded her and expected her to behave like a little adult. She didn’t get to play or actually be a child really, she was usually left to her own devices outside of schooling and piano classes and was in many ways, raised by the family house elf Pipsey. Polly mostly saw her parents at the dinner table, for breakfast and supper and had the rest of the day to herself, mostly shut in her room with her piano (which, although reasonably good at it, she grew very quickly bored of). She had a very vivid imagination and grew bored of study and lessons easily. She wasn’t given any dolls but managed to make her own out of the clothes she grew out of, while they weren’t very pretty she loved them and could create stories out of the most mundane things since that was really all she had at her disposal. This carries on for the first 6/7 years of her life, she would create stories in her room for hours and was much closer with Pipsey than her parents knew, which meant that Pipsey was often involved in her (very limited) play time under Polly’s instruction. This lasted until she started homeschool.

She was expected to study every day from the day she started school as her parents demanded excellence, which is where the disappointment started but no where near where it ended. She was schooled in a group of other pure blood girls, the children of her family’s friends, which was where she first learnt how effective manipulation and humiliation was. Actually, that’s not quite true, the first person she learnt that from was her father, who seemed to find endless things about polly childish, unbecoming and disappointing. Her mother wasn’t much better, and the more time that passed without her showing any signs of magic, the more resigned and borderline hateful they became of her, calling her a squib and a ‘failed endeavour’, and unfortunately, as children often do, she started mimicking this behaviour around the other girls and found out very quickly how to get what she wanted. Whether that be to get a specific girl to be her best friend, another to be ignored by everyone, to get answers for the homework, to get out of the homework, or most importantly: frighten the girls out of ever bringing up the fact that she couldn’t do magic. She probably made threatening comments about being very powerful and not trusting herself to use magic around them to cover up the fact that she was coming up nine and a half and still hadn’t had a single instance of magic.

I don’t think she really understood how horrible her behaviour was then and likely thought this was normal behaviour bc the girls she was schooled with weren’t exactly nice either, and when that’s how people behave in your home and in your class/every aspect of your life you tend to make the assumption that that's just how everyone is. It made her feel good in the moment, having power over others often does have a certain appeal, however dark, but I imagine she spent a lot of time thinking about it at night and feeling awful but not being able to articulate why. I like to picture her having long chats with Pipsey and skirting around the subject, wanting to talk about it but being too afraid to find out what was making her feel this way.

Skip forward and her parents began to talk about replacing Pipsey, she’s old and a lot slower these days and far, far too indulgent with Polly. Polly, struggling to get her parents attention at the best of times, begs and begs them to keep her on, begs them to just get another elf to help alongside Pipsey instead of getting rid of her entirely, and when they refuse to listen and send her off to her room, she throws the tantrum to end all tantrums, screaming, crying, kicking, throwing things, all the behaviour she has been taught against suddenly comes tumbling out of her until they all realise that she's levitating their massive heavy wooden bookshelf up and up in a very menacing way over her parents.

It’s not her conscious intention to hurt them, but on a subconscious level it’s definitely her desire to make them feel the hurt, upset, and fear that they’ve made her feel, and I’d consider this the first time we see just how strongly she cares for the people she loves. It’s the fear of losing Pipsey that drives her to use magic for the first time. Her parents are OVERJOYED at this display of magic as they’d honestly almost completely given up on her and decide to keep Pipsey as a reward for her display. Not a great thing bc it instilled in her the idea that she can get whatever she wants if she throws a big enough tantrum and is threatening enough, but on the other hand it teaches her to always fight for what she feels is right so... plus Pipsey is so grateful to Polly for working so hard to keep her (as if Polly would /ever/ let anything stand between her and what she loves)

The magic doesn’t come easily after this though, it comes rarely and is quite difficult for her since she’s been raised to be so reserved and emotionless, but she’s felt it now and manages to achieve the barest of minimums from here on out. I don’t think magic is exclusively connected to emotional states or a persons openness but being closed off has definitely been to the detriment of Polly’s power. She’s got a renewed sense of self worth from the experience though and begins to feel once again like she might be able to make her parents proud.

She gets her Hogwarts letter and it is the happiest she’s ever been and it’s the closest they’ve ever felt like a real family. Everything is perfect until the moment she meets Yann Fredericks on the train and her world image starts to crumble.

Yann is easily the nicest person she's ever met and it's confusing and INFURIATING and she has no idea how to cope with it, but suddenly (and she doesn't know HOW) she has a friend and the sorting hat is on her head and she's in Gryffindor with this boy she's only known a few hours and her entire world is upside down.

That first night she creeps down into the Gryffindor common room because she's so confused and sick with anxiety that she can't sleep, only to find Yann down there too. He also can't sleep, but his reason is that he misses his mums and his sister Leah, and the combination of that mixed with his excitement for the years ahead means that he probably won't sleep for hours. They end up talking about anything and everything until they can't keep their eyes open, and although she's still more nervous than she's ever been, she's also made her first real friend. They end up having long, quiet chats in that corner almost every night for the rest of their time at Hogwarts.

She gathers the courage to write to her parents the next day and never receives a reply, which is a reply in itself, and she's absolutely devastated. Not to mention she's not managing any better with her magic, and seems to be just about the only one with this issue except for:

Albus Potter.

Her homeschool days come back to her and suddenly she's picking on Albus and pointing out all his flaws and the fact that he can hardly manage any magic it all and now no one even notices that she can't get her feather to levitate or a broom into her hands because they're all noticing that in Albus. It's not nice and it doesn't make her feel good, but it's a relief to not have to worry about herself when she's got everyone laughing at someone else's misfortune. And in doing so she makes another friend: Karl Jenkins! Who seems equally as keen to make jokes at the expense of others, and who introduces her and Yann to his friend Craig Bowker Jr.

I could go on and on but it's already taken me like, a year, to answer this!! and it gets a bit more just 'story' rather than 'backstory' from here so there you have it! I'm sorry for taking an absurd amount of time and for rambling so much and probably only making a small amount of sense but there you have it! I love Polly so much and I'm so excited for her to grow, mature and get the help that she needs to become the person that she's meant to be <3 Thank you thank you thank you for asking!! I am literally always down to talk about Polly, or any other member of the gang, and I will endeavour to do better than a year's turn around in future <3 love youuuuu

[anna-justice]

Lost or Found - 6

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

6 - Born to Die

...

“You can’t be serious Hailey.” Jay said as they pulled out of the school parking lot. Hailey had booked it to the truck after her sudden realization and was still very shaken up.

She turned to face him. “I am! Jay, I’ve heard that voice in my nightmares. It has to be him. He’s connected to all of this somehow.” Hailey sat back in her seat and pressed her hand lightly to her neck, remembering the night she was attacked.

“I’ve known Severide for years, his dad’s a firefighter. He’s a great guy. There is no way he is wrapped up in all this.” Jay couldn’t wrap his head around any of it.

“I know what I heard, he attacked me that night.” Hailey said confidently. 

Jay sighed, “This isn’t the first thing you’ve been sure of this week.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The whole Nadia thing,” Jay explained, “You were so sure that it was her, we saw her today when the texts were sent. It couldn’t be. You’re grasping for anything to explain this Hailey.”

Hailey was sure there was steam coming out of her ears. “That’s not fair.” Jay kept quiet this time. “Last time I checked, you asked for my help and we are trying to solve your girlfriend's case. Don’t get mad at me because I’m looking at facts.” 

Jay wasn’t sure what to say. She was right, she didn’t have any sort of emotional connection to anyone. She was purely objective. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just, Erin and Kelly were really good friends. I couldn’t imagine him hurting her.”

“I didn’t say he hurt her, I’m saying that he hurt me.” Hailey’s words struck hard. It almost felt like a switch flipped inside of him. He hurt Hailey. Jay hadn’t realized how attached to her he had gotten, she had been his rock the past few weeks. And something else felt new as well: the phrase “girlfriend” didn’t sit well with him anymore. She had been gone almost four months now, she hadn’t really been his girlfriend in a long time. It wasn’t like he was happy either, he was thinking about ending things and kissing Hailey that night was the final straw. He wanted to kiss someone else, he enjoyed kissing someone else. He was going to break up with her that night, and he didn’t get the chance. So now, he’s still playing the role of the heartbroken boy with the missing girlfriend and even Hailey believed it.

His eyes landed on her again at the next red light, her eyes were watery, her gaze fixed on her lap. “And he’s not going to again.” He reached over the center console and placed a comforting hand on hers. He earned a small smile in return. 

Hailey wanted to be mad a little longer, but she couldn’t be. As much as she loved her friends, and Chicago, she didn’t grow up there like the rest of them. She didn’t know many people outside of her tight knit circle, accusing Nadia or Kelly was easy for her in a way. The rest of them had to handle the betrayal along with the fear. 

The pair opted to go to her house, and Hailey ignored the feeling in her stomach as they stepped over the threshold. She had become accustomed to Jay being around, it wasn’t strange for them to end up at each other’s houses or just riding around town with milkshakes. They spent a lot of time together and she could feel herself starting to get attached, which was a hard no in her book. 

Throwing their backpacks down by the door they made their way to the kitchen, where Jay helped himself to the box of donuts on her counter. Her aunt had bought them to celebrate the first day of school, but they were using them to mourn the summer. 

“So why doesn’t Greg hang out with us?” Hailey asked, breaking the silence. 

Jay wiped the chocolate frosting from his face before responding. “He’s homeschooled, his dad’s in the military so they move around a lot, but they keep an apartment here. He’s pretty shy, he used too, but he and Erin didn’t really get along.”

Hailey noticed the sad look on his face, “You should bring him around more often. He seems cool.”

“I don’t want to bring him into all of this.” Jay said, only half lying. He knew that he had helped with the text, but he drew the line there. Not only that, but Greg and Jay had known each other for a long time, they knew exactly how screwed up each other were, and they were both happy to keep things just between them. 

Hailey nodded and handed him another donut, which he gladly accepted, eating his feelings seemed like a great solution for the time being.

…

Kim sat on Adam’s bed, scrolling through instagram while Adam talked to his mom on the phone. They were at his dad’s house and his mom wasn’t very happy about it. It hurt Kim to watch Adam struggle through his parents divorce, it was only finalized a few months ago and he wasn’t doing very well with splitting time. 

They spent most of their time at his dad’s when they weren’t at her house, her parents adored him and Adam liked the weekly family dinners and the sense of stability that came with them. His mom wasn’t a big fan of Kim, she saw her as another person that was in the way of her getting all of his attention. Not that Adam was fond of giving her any, her substance abuse was quickly eating away at their relationship. 

Adam through his phone on the bed next to Kim, causing her to look up at him. He was obviously stressed and she took it as an invitation to wrap her arms around him. He gladly accepted the embrace, placing his chin on the top of her head. After a few minutes, Kim looked up at him. “You okay?”

“I am now.” He smirked, hugging her a bit tighter. 

Kim pulled away, leaving her hands on his elbows. “I’m being serious. Are you okay?”

Adam groaned and pulled her down next to him on his bed. “I guess, I’m just fed up with my mom starting fights.” Kim took his hand in hers, brushing her thumb over the back of it. “And my dad is choosing to ignore her, so I have to play damage control.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

He gave her a weak smile. “I know we all have way bigger problems right now, but I’m so sick of it all. I’m their kid, this isn’t my job.”

“Hey,” Kim said, pacing her hand on his jaw. “Don’t do that, we can’t focus on that all the time or we’ll go crazy. Plus, what are we gonna do? You are allowed to be upset, no matter what else is going on.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Kim smirked, “I’ve been told a few times.” She squealed as Adam grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him, placing his lips on hers. She responded immediately, her hand finding the nape of his neck while his stayed on her waist. Somewhere in the middle, she ended up on her back on the bed with Adam hovering over her. She pulled him closer to her, which caused him to lose his balance and fall slightly top of her. They collapsed in a fit of laughter, Adam rolling over to lay on his back beside her. 

He looked over at her, a huge grin on his face. “This may be a little fast but,” his hand found hers, “I love you, Kim.” 

Kim was frozen for a second. She thought that she had imagined him saying it like she had a million times before. “Is this real?” She asked, rolling on her side to face him.

“It better be.” Adam joked, chuckling nervously. This was what he was afraid of, that she didn’t feel the same way. He was shocked when she jumped him, kissing him with more intensity than ever before.

“I love you too.” She said grinning, and suddenly Adam was on top of her all over again.

…

Kevin was sitting with some of the guys from the team at a local diner, they decided to go grab burgers after practice. They were laughing, joking, having a great time, well, everyone but Kevin.

He was worried about Vinessa, his little sister, constantly. Everyone else that was being threatened had at least a shot at defending themselves, she was just a kid. He had always been over protective of her, and his brother, Jordan. He was almost ten years older than him, Vinessa being only three. His mom was a single mom, working two jobs to keep their house, his dad left right after he was born and Jordan and Vinessa’s bolted before her first birthday. So Kevin was the closest thing to a father figure that they had. 

“Dude, did you see Decotis today? Damn that girl got hot.” One of his teammates asked.

The running back, Connor, grimaced. “I don’t know man, did you hear what Halstead said?” He asked. “I”m staying away, I wouldn’t put it past Sampson to sleep with a student. What do you think Kev?” Kevin wasn’t paying any attention, he was mindlessly staring down his drink. “Kev?”

He snaps his head up, having no idea what they were asking him. “Uh, I don’t know.” 

“Were you even paying attention?” Connor asks, laughing.

Kevin shakes his head, the rest of the group not noticing the lack of enthusiasm he was giving off. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do to protect his siblings, but he did know that in order to get to them, they would have to go through him. 

…

Hailey woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly well rested. School was giving her a sense of normalcy that she had lost in the past few weeks. She showered and got ready quickly, bounding down the stairs ready to tackle the day.

Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to sit next to Severide in class today and she was sure that between her and Jay, she could find a way to avoid him. 

When she entered the kitchen, she found her aunt and uncle sitting at their usual spot at the table, but Randall was looking a little more disheveled than usual after shift. She leaned against the island, “Everything okay?”

“Hailey.” Trudy said, just then noticing her presence. 

Randall looked up with a sad look in his eyes. “Come sit down kiddo.” 

Hailey sat down hesitantly. “What’s going on? Is Jay okay? Kim, Adam? Kevin?” She began to panic, ignoring the fact that the first person to come to her mind was a certain Halstead. 

“Yes.” Trudy said, placing a hand over Hailey’s shaky one. “They are all fine. Randall…” She dragged off, nodding to her husband.

Randall turned his whole body towards his niece. “Last night, around Midnight, we responded to a residential fire on Wabash. It was an old abandoned house, one of the last ones on the street. The basement was full of paper materials and electronics like computers, so with an accelerant it went up fast and burned hot.” He took a breath, “It’s already been turned over to fire investigation for arson, but, I wanted you to know that we pulled a body from the fire.”

Hailey knew what house he was talking about, she and Jay had been there just last week, but she played dumb. “I don’t understand, what does that have to do with me?” 

“Hailey, they think it’s Erin.”

…

A/N: I know that the family dynamics are a little different than they are on the show, but I had to alter them a bit to fit this storyline! Thanks for reading!

[fundielicious-simblr]

💕Love Day Love Story Series💕

(AN: This is something that came to mind a while ago and I’ve been so excited to finally able to actually do it, I wanted to change things up while also giving more of an insight into the dynamics of each couple. There’ll be a post every other day for variety and so that I can keep the timeline going. If you’re interested in the gen 2 love stories, they’re up on my Meet the Family page for gen 2, they’re very basic though as I just wanted a bit of a back story for the family tree - this was also meant to be posted tomorrow but I’m excited and the post today was short)

For Love Day, the different couples sat down and answered questions about their relationships and how they’ve grown as a couple, it’s so wonderful seeing how the different couples have walked through the different seasons of life together in accordance with their marriage vows. It’ll go in order of how the couples got married, so first up are Mason and Adalynn.

                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mason & Adalynn

Mason & Adalynn during their courtship

How did you guys meet?

[Mason] “ Well, our families have been going to Family Bible Camp since we were both very young and have been friendly for years. My dad has been giving sermons and her parents also speak at the conference and so we’ve been around each other a lot. I knew her brothers and cousins in our immediate age range as we attended the same sessions together and even went on many Young Men’s Retreats together. I’d always seen Adalynn caring for one of her siblings or helping someone with something, and couldnt help but admire her servants heart. After one year at camp, my parents broached the topic on praying to start a courtship and asked me to think of anyone I’d think suitable, and not gonna lie, Adalynn was the first name that popped up in my head. After sharing with my parents, we all prayed together, and they advised me to pray for my future wife, whoever she was going to be. One spring day my parents got a call from Allan Collins where he invited our family to join them for Easter, it just so happened that our church was having a visiting speaker which allowed my father to join us. This time at Easter allowed Adalynn and I to spend time together in a group setting, which all but convinced me she was the one - we started courting that weekend.”

[Adalynn] “ Like Mason has mentioned, our families have known each other for a very long time, but with all my responsibilities I never really had the time to focus on boys. When I had just turned 13 and gotten my purity ring from my parents, my mother sat me down and shared with me the importance of praying for your future husband, she also taught all us girls never to be forward with our emotions so our purity isn't questioned. I was in my later teens one summer at camp when I saw Mason hanging with my brothers and admired his wisdom and heart for the Lord,  but of course didn't say anything until I was doing my devotions one morning with my mother and shared my heart with her about my appreciation for Mason - of-course I think anything about it until the Leonards came over for Easter. We spent some time talking and it really showed me that i was right to admire Mason. When he asked me to start courting I was over the moon with joy! All our family members were involved in our courtship, and we wouldn’t have had it any other way. I was even happier when he proposed, he took me out to this fancy restaurant in my hometown that I’d never had a chance to visit where after dinner he proposed! The only thing better than our wedding has been the birth of every one of our children.”

At their wedding

How have you changed since marriage?

[Mason]” My parents raised me to be a husband and father, to lead a family and guide them in the Lord. Adalynn has made that all so easy for me, we moved into a small one bedroom house after being married and managed to parent 4 rambunctious toddlers. She never complained, never argued, but instead took everything in her stride and trusted in my ability to lead the family. With the house renovation we had to move back into my parents house until ours is livable again, and being back home as a married man has opened up my eyes to the example that my parents set in their relationship - and it’s also given me more of an appreciation for how Adalynn was raised. Both she and my mother are awake early with the children as they prepare breakfast and get ready to start homeschooling, when my father and I leave for work in the morning we get our lunch handed to us with a kiss as we walk out the door. I’m living the best life and I couldn’t thank the Lord more for what he’s given me”

[Adalynn] “Going from a bustling house with 15 people to a house with just 2 was definitely a major adjustment for me. It took some time to learn how to cook for just 2 people rather than 15, but I think my in-laws appreciated all the extra food I used to make [laughs], and I’m so thankful for Mason’s patience as I adjusted to living away from my family. Marriage helped us to really get to know one another in a way we didn’t get to while courting, we learnt early on to trust in each other and in the Lord, especially when we started having children. I definitely worried about how we were going to raise 2 children in our small house, but my mum helped me realise all I needed to do was trust in my husband and in the Lord - I mean, when we were young my parents raised 10 children in a tiny 3 bedroom house and we did just fine.With each child we have I fall in love with him more and more, seeing him guide our boys has brought me nothing but joy from the very beginning. Now that we’ll have a redone house to look forward to, I can see the gifts that come with showing patience, and I can’t wait to grow old with my dear husband.”

Mason and Adalynn now - 8 years and 5 children later

(I'm guesstimating the years they’ve been married cause I forgot to calculate before hand and I cbb to do it now 😂)

[queerin]

I lived through Purity Culture and all I got was this t-shirt...oh, and shame.

I just finished reading the book “Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement that Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free”  by Linda Kay Klein. It’s made me reflect on my own journey and the effects that purity culture has had on my life.

As a homeschooled pastor’s kid growing up in the 90s? I was immersed in it. 

The message was simple: Keep yourself pure for God and your future husband. 

However, that message was implicitly complicated and nuanced in daily life. What exactly was “pure?” How far was too far? What if I did something by accident that made myself impure? Forget even considering IF I ever wanted to have a husband someday. The standard was “you will get married to a good Christian man” and “he and God expect you to be a virgin.” Actually communicating about sexuality and purity, though, seemed to be off the table.

We talked about how to avoid causing our “brothers in Christ” to stumble. We had Sunday School lessons about how to apply minimal makeup so our faces would look “natural.” Our youth group broke into boys and girls groups; the boys played paintball and the girls had lessons about modesty. My father had to approve all clothes that my mom, sister, and I purchased, so we would do a fashion show of sorts, begrudgingly twirling our outfits in front of him while he watched TV until we knew which clothes we could hang in our closets and which had to go in the “return” pile. 

My mother never, ever wore makeup or did her hair, so I never learned how to make myself look presentable. In fact, the implicit message was that you should strive to make yourself look unattractive. I learned that being a girl meant I should live for the men around me. If I emphasized my body or sexuality, I was slowly chipping away at the gift that belonged to my husband. Every time I had an impure thought or did an impure act, I was defacing what was sacred in the eyes of God. 

My self worth during my teenage years was loooooooow. I hated who I was. I was desperately seeking to gain approval from my community, but secretly was having all kinds of thoughts and desires that I knew my community would find disgraceful. I tried so hard to fit in. I wore the purity ring. I avoided boys. I sat through youth group where we tore up paper hearts to represent our virginity. I bought the Virginity Rocks t-shirt (The back says ”I’m loving my husband and I haven’t even met him yet!”). I didn’t wear makeup. I didn’t wear clothes that fit me, let alone flattered me. I played the part of the good Christian girl flawlessly. No one knew that I was struggling with my sexuality and had no one to go to. 

I had to break myself out of purity culture and the shame that came with it. I came out as a lesbian in my late teens, and basically said to hell with the church and every message it ever gave me. Every “rule” the church had given me about sex and purity was thrown in the dumpster. I overcame my shame by running headfirst into the culture that I had been told would surely be my downfall. 

And you know what? It wasn’t my downfall. I definitely made mistakes. If I could go back and change things, there are some things I wouldn’t have done with some of the people who came into my life. But there are other things that I shared with people who I loved fully, and I don’t regret those interactions for a second, even if the church would shame me for my sexual history. 

I actually don’t feel shame about my sex life. What?! The pastor’s kid made it out unscathed? Well, not quite. While my ability to have a healthy sex life is intact, other effects of the purity culture are still evident in my life. No, I don’t have panic attacks in the bedroom. I don’t feel an ounce of guilt or shame when I’m intimate with my partner. But I have extreme insecurity about my body and feeling good about myself. I’m getting better at makeup, but I always question if I’m doing it right and often opt for a “natural” look over the smokey eyes and dramatic colors. I know how to do my hair two ways: straight or a bun. I am insanely jealous of girls who can effortlessly curl their hair just right and look adorable. I try to curl my hair and I feel like I’m doing something wrong just by getting a little dolled up. 

Clothes are still really hard for me. I know that I can buy clothes that are flattering, I know I don’t need to have anyone’s permission or approval, I know that I don’t need to feel shame about feeling good about how my body looks. Yet I still ask my fiance if I should get this top or wear that dress, I still avoid revealing clothes (that really aren’t revealing at all), and I still feel so incredibly uncomfortable when I’m wearing anything that’s not a size too big. I may fight those feelings for my whole life, but I’m working on it. 

My biggest hope is that I’m able to stop these messages from reaching my future daughter’s ears. I want to have conversations with her about her sexuality and explain that it’s okay to have questions. It’s okay to feel the feelings. It’s okay to feel good about yourself. It’s okay to look nice. I pray that she never feels shamed into behaving a certain way for someone else. I hope that she knows about her options when she is considering having sex, and that she feels comfortable coming to her mom if she has questions or needs help. God knows I didn’t have that when I was a kid. 

There is nothing wrong with wanting to save yourself for your future husband, or even just waiting until you feel the time is right. There IS something wrong with using shame to make women behave a certain way and live up to a standard put in place by an institution. I’m thankful that I found freedom and that so many other women have, too. 

[doll-collecting-aerialist]

The Story Of My Addy, In Honor Of Her Birthday.

(VERY long post.)

Growing up, the three American Girls I wanted most were Addy, Kirsten, and Cecile.  However, Kirsten and Addy were always the top dolls I wished for, they probably tied in first place. I remember being about six or seven and flipping through my first American Girl catalog I ever received, along with Kit, my first American Girl. After staring at her respective pages, I flipped through the other Historicals. I was never too interested in the non-Historical aspects of AG as a kid (other than Mckenna), I was what one would class as an aspiring history buff. I thought all the dolls were gorgeous, but Addy in particular caught my eye. She was stunning. 

I thought Addy was beautiful, and her pink meet dress was quite similar to a couple of my childhood dresses. If I wanted to be atmospheric I’d probably say I was wearing my favorite pink sundress the first time I was introduced to Addy, but realistically I was probably wearing my frog rain boots and my lobster pajamas. I had a fascination with footwear as a kid, particularly boots, and Addy’s shoes reminded me of Doc Martens. I had always wanted a pair of black boots, and I thought it was sick that Addy had “Docs.” I thought she was the most stylish out of the historical characters. I thought Addy’s hair was the prettiest out of the Historicals as well, it looked very soft and reminded me of my best friend’s hair. I also thought Addy had the prettiest face out of the dolls, I loved her nose and her eyes. 

However, the people around me didn’t see Addy the way I did. I suppose you could call it a tradition for the girls of my elementary school to huddle around a new American Girl catalog when it released. My peers often marveled over the blond or light-red haired Truly Mes, and occasionally the GOTY. They rarely paid attention to the Historicals, and when they did it was usually a doll like Julie. When I brought up how pretty Addy (or Cecile) was, and how much I loved her, the girls would laugh at me. There soon became a group of white girls in my school who would laugh at me for wanting a black doll. They would call Addy horrible things, anything from saying she looked “dirty” to calling her the n-word. They said I probably only wanted Addy so “I could have a slave.” I would defend Addy and tell them that they were wrong, but if anything that made them more antagonistic towards her and me. 

I was a very shy, anxious, soft-spoken kid, and so thinking about telling an adult made me want to vomit my Caprisun. The adults of my elementary school were also extremely dismissive of me anyway in some cases, and would become annoyed with me for reasons I won’t get into, other than that I was a “problem” child as a kid due to my home situation, being bullied, and not being accommodated in school for my disabilities. I knew I wasn’t going to be taken seriously by my teachers, and I didn’t want to gather up the courage to open up to one of them only to be dismissed. There were some adults that did see what was going on and would tell the girls to stop, but more often than not when the adults did witness the girls making fun of me, they’d turn the other way, or even condone it. Many adults asked me why I didn’t want a doll that looked like me, or asked why I didn’t want a “pretty doll.” There would be adults who would warn me that I would ruin Addy’s hair and that Addy’s hair was to difficult for me to take care of. Adults would often try to sway me to like another doll, usually a white, blonde-haired one. 

I began to keep my love for Addy a secret. As an elementary schooler, I didn’t understand why everyone was upset with me for loving Addy, but the reactions from the people around me made me feel as though there was something wrong with myself.  There wasn’t really anyone telling me that the people being racist towards Addy were the problem and that I was not the issue. My eight-year-old brain basically came to the conclusion that people wouldn’t be yelling at me if I wasn’t doing something wrong, and for a while, I felt ashamed for loving Addy. I still did love her however, and I would quietly stare at her page in the catalog for hours, becoming extremely upset with the fact that I would never have her. I adored all her outfits, they reminded me of the ones my mother and grandmother would sew for me. I wanted her Christmas Dress, Sunday Best, and Nightgown especially. I begged for a nightgown so I could be like Addy. I wanted Ida Bean and Addy’s lace-up boots. Basically, anything Addy related? I wanted badly, but I always kept it a tight secret. 

An activity my family would often partake in growing up was going to the thrift store during half-off weeks. On one of these trips, my mother found quite a few historical American Girl books, including a copy of Meet Addy and Changes For Addy. There was also a copy of Merry Christmas Kit, Molly Saves the Day, Meet Felicity, etc... But I was extremely excited for the Addy books in particular. I carried my copy of Meet Addy everywhere, from the time I was in about fourth grade, until the time I was eventually pulled out of public school in the middle of grade seven. I always had it in my backpack, and I was to busy reading it to pay attention to the kids who liked to make fun of me (or my teacher trying to teach me for that matter, my book got taken up on multiple occasions.). Meet Addy and Changes For Addy were the only Addy books I was able to read until recently, except for the times I would skim through her books when my mother went to the library. Only this past year have I been able to actually sit down and read her entire central series rather than skimming/reading random chapters.

Addy’s books were my only meaningful education on slavery and the Civil War for a long time. Before I was homeschooled, my education on the topics were often skittered around, or had details omitted to make my state appear less complicit (Where I live, all history education in public school revolves around our state, excluding things such as world history. At least it did when I went to public school.). My elementary school only had thirty minutes of allotted time for history or science instruction, and even then it was treated as optional instruction. The allotted time slot was often used for extra math instruction, test prep, or free time. I’ve had to retake much of my history education when I became homeschooled, because the education I received in public school was poor. Before Addy's books, I had been taught that ‘slavery wasn’t that bad,’ and my first actual look into the topic came from her series. My only meaningful history instruction for a long time came from the American Girl books, but Addy’s were especially important due to how little education I got on the topics of slavery and the Civil War, and also due to how much misinformation I was taught when we did discuss these topics in class. 

Addy’s books made me love her even more, and she was definitely one of my first crushes as an elementary schooler. I thought she was beautiful and strong, and I wanted more than anything to be like her. All my pink dresses became “Addy dresses” and I would pretend to dress up as her. I liked to draw her and write stories about her. My grandmother at one point gave me a doll outfit that was (coincidently?) extremely similar to one in an illustration in Addy’s book, and I loved it to pieces. I somehow found out about Addy’s stilting outfit, and that started my multiple-year fascination with stilts and begging my parents for them (I never got them). I learned to play mancala primarily because of Addy (and also for the fact that the kids at my summer camp that year based your popularity off of if you could play or not). 

 Addy was a strong character who was both a child and a girl, which I didn’t see much of, and I looked up to her immensely. She was also black, and although I’m not, seeing a strong girl character who was also in a minority meant a lot to me as a disabled kid. I was used to reading books about white, able body boys who were tough and strong, I rarely saw books that had girls who were strong, and if I did they were often adults, as well as able body and/or white. The disability representation in Addy’s books was also extremely well written, especially in comparison to much of the disability “representation” I was exposed to as a kid. I liked to read the chapters with M’Dear in Happy Birthday Addy, or the later books with Sam whenever my mother took me to the library.  I was used to disabled characters “overcoming”, or being pitied in the books I would read, but M’Dear and Sam weren’t like that. 

Eventually, I grew up never receiving Addy, and was pressured to put my dolls away. It wasn’t until a couple years later I would bring my dolls back out. My sister had her own American Girls at that point, so there was no weird obligation to let her play with my old ones, and I was no longer in public school where I would be made fun of for liking dolls. I had missed my dolls all the years they had been put away/given to my sister and I was so happy to finally have them back. After a while of having my dolls returned to me, Melody was released, which is really what completely brought me back into American Girls. Growing up, I wanted a Civil Rights American Girl badly. I am neurodivergent, and as a kid, I had a hyperfixation with the Civil Rights Movement. I wanted a Civil Rights American Girl almost as much as I wanted Addy, Kirsten, and Cecile, but she didn’t exist yet.

I immediately knew that I wanted both Melody and Addy in my collection as soon as possible (I had gotten Kirsten at that point. I wanted Cecile as well, but she wasn’t at the top of my mind as she is retired.). Although I no longer had a strange sense of reputation to uphold with my peers at public school, I did have a girlfriend. As a young teenager, I was so enamoured with the thought of having a girlfriend, that I often rushed into relationships with extremely toxic people, and this girl was no different. Aside from the usual “dolls are creepy” narrative, she also told me that she found Melody and Addy to be racist and that they offended her. She was very adamant that she would break up with me if I got Melody or Addy, and this scared my young teenage self who wanted a girlfriend (To this day, I do not know her exact issue with Melody.). I still got Melody that year, unbeknownst to her. I kept Melody a well hidden secret from her, but she had scared me enough to where I was afraid to get Addy at all. At this point I had started researching Addy constantly, and I knew the discourse surrounding her. I didn’t want to make my girlfriend at the time upset, so I held off on getting her. I have an AG store close to where I live, and I went a couple times after getting Melody and every single time I wanted more than anything to get Addy.

It would be a couple years before I would get Addy, as I got her this past January. I had started to become very antsy to get her, and in my wait for her had welcomed both Nellie and Josefina into my collection. About last September however, I made the mistake of bringing up how much I wanted Addy on an activism account I ran on Instagram, and immediately had people flooding me with all the usual Addy discourse. It took a long time to recover from that, and I had to shut down that account for a couple months. Since then everyone has cooled down about Addy, and I have some people who even follow me specifically for Addy. I’m not ashamed to admit that account has turned into more of an Addy Appreciation Account rather than an activism account. 

My quest to find the perfect Addy became all I would talk and think about. If you were within a mile of me, you KNEW that I wanted Addy, and I wanted her badly. Shout out to my friends who allowed me to talk from sunrise to sunset about Addy with no breaks for multiple weeks in a row. I was constantly looking on second hand sites, thrift stores, anywhere I could to find the Addy I wanted. I had my heart set on buying a pre-Beforever Addy at that point, and I was doing everything to find a listing that was affordable and that I loved. Then came the day where I found an Addy listing that I immediately fell in love with. I don’t know what exactly it was about the listing, but I wanted THAT Addy. Unfortunately, the site wouldn’t let me check out and I was incredibly upset to the point where I had multiple of my own friends, and even people I didn’t know on my Instagram account mentioned earlier offer to buy me an Addy doll. My “activism” account is relatively large, and there was a group of people ready to all chip in and help get me Addy. I had people ask if they could buy the listing that I wanted, and then ship her to me. Addy was all I could talk about at that point, and I had only talked about her/posted about her for at least a month. It only made me more upset to find out that the listing I had wanted had been sold. Plot twist! It was my mother who bought her.

(This is the first photo I ever took with Addy, I didn’t think I had saved it, but my friend did!)

I cried for about two weeks until she arrived. I was so happy I was finally going to have Addy, I couldn’t believe it. I thought for so long that I would never be able to have her. When she finally arrived it was love at first sight. I didn’t cry immediately upon unboxing her, I was trying to keep my composure, as I was filming unboxing her to put on my Instagram. Mostly so my friends could see, but also because I wanted to keep the moment, and because some of my followers were interested. I cried after turning the camera off, however. For the next couple of months I was extremely protective of my doll, I had the fear that she was just going to be taken away from me again. I took her everywhere with me around the house, she slept with me, ate dinner with me, would attend my online classes and sweep the porch with me. I didn’t like going out in public when I couldn’t have Addy nearby, I still don’t really, not that it’s much of an issue as we are quarantined for the time being. I’m planning on getting a mini Addy that I can keep in my purse sometime. 

Addy doesn’t stay on my shelf with my other dolls, she sits on my bed. Someday I hope to have her complete collection. That’s a far off, possibly unreasonable goal, but I don’t mind. My more attainable goal is to read all of Addy’s books, which I’m about halfway through doing. I recently got my first official Addy dress, her Christmas Dress, which she is currently sporting as we speak.

[pidgetyy]

My application for The Underpass, a roleplay hosted by @fireflythenightlight (and which I found through my dear friend @validwofjobs). Legacy is a mostly-human, slightly-pheonix girl who loves planning ahead, making new friends, and her two identical pet giant geckos, Lychee the pet leachie and Guinep the familiar leachie-salamander. The rest about her can be found in these incoming walls of text under the cut!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Backstory- 

Legacy grew up with an older and younger sister, the treasured “only son” of her parents, especially her father. Her name, before she realized she wasn’t a boy and chose a new name for herself, was Terrence. Her family lived in an apartment above a pet reptile store, run by her father. She got her familiar, Guinep, as well as her beloved pet, Lychee, when she was 8. She bonded with Guinep especially as her familiar, but the identical Lychee received plenty of love too, and in the first few years she had trouble telling apart the identical and closely bonded New Caledonian Giant Geckos by anything other than their temperament- Guinep was very calm, but Lychee tended to be a lot more snappish. Lychee followed Guinep’s lead in warming up to Legacy quickly, but remains a little aggressive towards strangers. 

Legacy was almost 15 when she finally admitted to herself that she didn’t think she was really a boy, after two years of suppressing and refusing to believe her own feelings. She began to grow her hair out, and stared longingly at the girl’s section of stores, but didn’t dare to expose her identity to her parents, whose reactions she couldn’t predict in the slightest. After about a year and a half of planning and psyching herself up, she finally had the guts to come out to her parents. The fallout didn’t come to the extremes she’d read many a horror story of online, of physical abuse or conversion therapy, but her parents still refused to acknowledge her preferred pronouns or name, and began to threaten homeschooling her, to keep “their only son” away from “the influence of those queer friends of yours.” She refused to be homeschooled, and her parents responded that, if she insisted on this, then they wouldn’t be paying college tuition for a daughter they didn’t have. Upset to say the least, she haphazardly packed the belongings she thought of first and could fit in her backpack, and left. It was the largest decision she had made in her life, and it was completely unplanned.

Her grandma on her mother’s side lived in a small house halfway across the city, and Legacy hoped her parents hadn’t shared the news with her about her identity, because she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. It came as a surprise not that her grandmother knew, but she actually accepted Legacy, scoffing and asking her to “give me your real name, girl” when she introduced herself grudgingly as Terrence. For the next few months, she lived there happily, upset about some of the belongings she had forgotten to bring but definitely not willing to go back to her parents, who didn’t bother to come find her (after her grandmother had sternly told them over the phone not to come unless they were going to treat their daughter right). Her grandmother bought her real girl’s clothes, and even helped her dye her hair a bright shade of bubblegum pink she’d had her eyes on for months. She finished highschool a semester early, something she had already been planning to do since before coming out. Her grandmother, unfortunately, was starting to decline in her old age. She was in stage 4 of Alzheimer’s disease, beginning to get to stage 5, when she was finally deemed no longer able to care for herself and was placed in an elderly person’s home to be cared for. By that summer, Legacy was back on the streets, preferring them against going back to her parents.

She took a job as the sole member of the “Maintenance Crew” of a cafe/coffee shop in a slightly busier part of the city in order to pay for her own living necessities and her leachie’s. From age 17 to the start of rp, Legacy worked there, cleaning up spills, keeping tabs of what sanitary supplies needed restocking, and keeping the rest of the shop sanitary. She made use of the keys she had to the shop, coming in before dawn, and definitely before opening hours, to clean the shop and then to clean herself, and fix her hair to look presentable. On particularly cold nights, she would spend the night there, more to keep her beloved pets warm than for any other reason. Though her high body temperature was usually enough to keep herself and the leachies warm, she didn’t want to risk any of them getting sick on especially stormy or windy winter nights. Most nights, she would instead find a friend happy to lend a couch for the night, or a fellow homeless person she trusted enough to watch her back while she slept next to, for safety reasons.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Personality-

Legacy is a generally cautious and consistent person. She sticks to her daily routine and her plans rather than acting spontaneously without thought. Unexpected changes and surprises are strongly disliked, because she hates being unprepared for something and sometimes has trouble dealing with surprise changes to her own plans because of that. Besides not being a big fan of practical jokes, she tries not to act outwardly uptight or prissy in social situations, even if her careful organization, tidiness and plans may make her seem like it. Most people wouldn’t pinpoint her as a homeless kid if they saw her, because she dedicates a considerable amount of time and money to making herself look very clean and neat. Half of the backpack she wears is filled with two other outfits, which she mixes-and-matches often. When she feels like a fashion change is in order, she’ll donate some clothes and buy new replacements for them at a local clothing exchange store. 

Her careful and well-put-together nature stems from a deep fear of making mistakes. Legacy hates the thought that she might make some mistake, do something wrong that could ruin her life as it is now, or change it beyond recognition (even if the change was for the better). So instead, she chooses inactivity. Though she could probably find a permanent place to live if she got a second job and saved carefully, she doesn’t, and instead spends most of her paycheck on unnecessary things like new clothes when she no longer needs it to buy food and water for her and her pets. She waited and planned for over a year to come out to her parents, and it still didn’t end well, so now she just tries to avoid taking any risks like that again (besides hiding her gender- she’s definitely done doing that. She presents as female and uses her real, chosen name. Most people don’t even realize she wasn’t born a girl). Legacy prefers to be a follower in social situations, rather than a leader. That way, she’s less likely to take the brunt of the consequences if a wrong decision is made. Safer. She prefers being safe, and right now her routine and life is safe and predictable, so she doesn’t see a need to change it or plan to end up anywhere else in her life.

Her caution about life decisions and other areas doesn’t quite extend to the social side of her life, however. Legacy’s a people person and a definite extrovert. She likes to surround herself with new friends at any chance she gets, and has a great memory for faces and personal details. Since middle school, she hasn’t forgotten a friend’s birthday or favorite color. Stranger’s opinions generally don’t have the power to change your whole life around, so with that low-risk assessment of friendship Legacy goes at making friends with a sort of wild abandon. Her charisma isn’t exactly impressive, but that doesn’t matter when she can just walk away and try again with someone else if the first person doesn’t seem to like her all that much. Even though she could listen to details about a person she barely knows for hours, and loves to learn new details about anyone, she’s dismissive of people’s opinions, especially if they’re about her. Few people have ever managed to become such an ingrained part of Legacy’s life as to earn the title of “Friend I actually care about and will make an effort not to lose.” Legacy shows up at many a party, flitting between groups for a while usually before finding someone she likes enough to hang out with for the rest of the night or couch-crash with, but refuses to get any farther than slightly tipsy even if the drinks are free. Being drunk is far too risky a thing for her to ever have attempted, even as tempting as it sometimes was. Party-going and friend-making are a few items on the short list of things she rarely, if ever, plans for.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Extra Facts™-

-She is, by a small percentage, a Phoenix hybrid (1/8th, or 12.5 percent to be precise) by her great-grandmother on her mother’s mother’s side. She doesn’t have the identifying wings because of her lack of more phoenix-hybrid ancestors, but does have the noticeably higher body temperature and small flame-producing ability. She doesn’t have a ton of control over the flames, and they’re likely to appear, purposefully or not, when she’s feeling strong emotions.

-her favorite color is, by far, pink. Second is light green.

-Partially because of favorite-color influence, partially because of its sweet flavor, her favorite food is watermelon.

-She isn’t a vegetarian, but she generally doesn’t like meat very much. 

-She wishes she had the spare money to afford an instrument. Legacy used to play the flute in her middle school band, and loved it, but she left it behind in her parent’s house.

-Lawful neutral

-She’s a Libra (her birthday is September 28th)

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

The Mistakes We Made - Chapter Fifteen

Summary:  When her high school girlfriend comes back to town after two years with a baby and a terrible story she won’t tell, the Librarian has to deal with the feelings she had worked so hard to keep at bay.

Notes:  I’m... not very proud of how this chapter turned out writing wise, but you’ve been around for this long, I don’t think you’ll leave me now. Also the bisexuals are taking over this fic I’m not sorry

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8) (chpt9) (chpt10) (chpt11) (chpt12) (chpt13) (chpt14) (chpt15)

There was a loud gasp in the playground.

“You’re the kid who lives in the cemetery, aren’t you?!”

There was no answer. Another voice spoke.

“Is it true that your mum’s a witch? My mother said she’d steal my videogame if I didn’t go to bed on time.”

This time there was an answer, after a small pause. “That is stupid.”

The voice wasn’t of anyone Johanna knew. She looked behind her, away from the group of girls she had befriended in her two years at school, and looked at the swing. There was a small, pale girl swinging gently on it, her dark hair waving back and forth with the wind on her face. Around her, a group of other kids seemed to have gathered around.

Excusing herself from the conversation, Johanna walked to them. Those kids were obviously being mean, and Johanna didn’t want this kid to be upset on the first day of school.

Just as she got closer, another one of them spoke up. “I heard she put a curse on Mr. Wright and that’s why he is sick. Do you put curses on people as well.”

The new girl just kept swinging, completely ignoring the question. But Johanna walked up to them and put her hands on her hips, trying to look serious. “Hey! You are all being really rude. Leave her alone!”

The group of kids turned to look at her, confused that she’d give them an order even though she had no power over them. But then, the new girl planted her feet on the ground and stopped swinging, turning to them.

“You better do what she asked.” She said, calm to the point it was unnerving. Afraid of all they’d heard about the girl, the other children nodded, wide eyed, and walked away.

The dark haired kid watched them go away, hoping that they felt her eyes on their backs. Then, she turned to the girl who had stood up for her.

“Thank you for that. But it’s okay, I wasn’t being bothered.”

“Well, but I was.” Johanna sat down on the swing by the girl’s side. “That was no way to talk to anyone.”

“You’re very kind.”

Smiling at the compliment, she tried to continue the conversation. “Thank you. You are new, aren’t you? How old are you?”

The girl nodded. “I am five. My mum had been homeschooling me.”

“Five?” Johanna put her hands together in joy. “Me too! We’ll probably be in the same class! What’s your name?”

“Maven.” The girl answered, Johanna thought it was a very nice name. It sounded mysterious, kind of like her.

“Nice to meet you, Maven. I’m Johanna.”

_#_#_#_

The two of them only stopped hugging when Hilda made a gurgling sound, calling for attention after being on her stroller for so long. Both of them had drawn back at the sound, and smiled at each other one more time before Johanna got up to see what she could do for her child.

While she was distracted, Maven picked her cellphone to check the time, but something else called for her attention. There was an unread message from Mr. Kavindi.

“Good morning Maven, how are you? Not too sore, I hope. Please tell me if you need anything and do come over for tea if you’re feeling up to it!”

She could see out of the corner of her eye that Hilda insisted on wiggling in her mother’s grip, and she looked up to smile sympathetically at Johanna, who chuckled.

“I think she wants to go outside.” Johanna said, trying to find a position that made Hilda calmer. Her daughter didn’t like to stay inside for too long. Over the weeks she’d been there, she’d taken many strolls on the cemetery with the child, and even though Johanna admitted to having been creeped out, Hilda had enjoyed herself. Maybe she’d grow up to be one of those people who liked scary things. Like Maven. The thought made her happy.

The librarian got up and straightened her coat. “Well, we did just receive an invitation for tea. I say we all deserve it, really.”

_#_#_#_

They walked side by side on the streets, the sound of their steps and the wheels of the stroller merging together, the cool morning air adding a slight blush to their cheeks. Since she’d come back, Johanna hadn’t left Maven’s house much, and ever since she’d tried to talk to her parents, she’d been as discreet about Hilda as possible, afraid that someone would try to take the child from her as a result of Torrin’s lies. But now, she pushed the stroller in front of her almost proudly. She didn’t care, nor did she worry, about what they thought. The two people who truly loved her were by her side, and lucky for her, no one but her former husband had ever seemed willing to pick a fight with Maven.

“Anna?” Maven hugged her coat tighter around herself to keep in her warmth, and Johanna hummed in acknowledgment. “About what you told me earlier. That I don’t… fight for people. What do you think I should work on to solve that?”

Smiling at the ground, Johanna tried to hide her pleasure at realizing that Maven had, indeed, taken her worries seriously. This was something she’d wanted to talk to Maven about ever since they were very young, but she hadn’t thought she’d want to hear it.

“Well, I’m afraid that this whole town pariah thing made you have some trouble with communication. And connecting with other people’s feelings, so maybe you should focus on that.”

Maven chuckled self deprecatingly. “Yeah, I had already noticed the communication thing.”

Making her stop walking with a gentle hand to her arm, Johanna locked their gazes. “But I have to say that you seem to be improving so much in this aspect. I was very proud of you today.”

Maven pulled the hem of her coat over her hands, a nervous habit that Johanna easily recognized, her eyes looking down at the ground and then up again.

“Says a lot that you have to praise me for acting like a human, doesn’t it?” She muttered, making Johanna sigh.

“Which brings me to another thing you might want to pay attention to.” Johanna started walking again, letting Maven to follow after her even though only the librarian knew the way to where they were going. Her eyes were just a little wider than normal and her back was straight as an arrow, showing Johanna that she was paying listening closely.

“Self esteem.”

Maven blinked and frowned at her. “Wait, what?”

Smiling, Johanna continued looking forward, following Maven when she crossed a small street. The block they were walking by was filled with colourful little houses, each with a garden in front of them.

“Have you ever heard the quote ‘we accept the love we think we deserve?’”

Maven scrunched her nose. “Isn’t that a song?”

Rolling her eyes, Johanna shot her a very level look. Even if she wasn’t perfectly aware that with the amount of books she read, it would be almost a miracle if she didn’t know, at this point in her life Johanna could recognize Maven’s tone when she made an awful joke.

“Yeah, I’ve heard it. By Stephen Chbosky, I think.”

“Exactly. Well, I’ve always wondered if maybe you never thought people could like you because you never liked yourself.”

It was a strange realization to come. Sure, she knew perfectly well about all the things she hated about herself. She knew she’d always considered this friendship, the truest one she’d ever had, to be more than she deserved, but she’d somewhy never connected these things to low self esteem. Gods, I need a therapist.

“Thank you, Anna.” She smiled, her face hiding nothing even though it was so used to covering every emotion. “I’ll think about that.”

Johanna only had time to smile back at her before they heard a cheerful voice from one of the houses.

“Girls, you’ve come!”

They turned their heads to the cubby man waving at them from his front door. Mr. Kavindi seemed to have come back to his usual joyous self, in contrast with how tense and worried he’d been the night before. Maven was happy for the change; she wouldn’t want to be the reason his mood was dampened.

He stepped down his house and crossed the garden in order to open the metal gate for them. Johanna got in first , and thought he tried not to stare, Kavindi couldn’t help himself but grin at the adorable child who was taking everything in from the stroller. He’d heard Torrin’s version of the story of how Johanna came to be at Trolberg again, of course. Everyone had at this point. But since Maven hadn’t wanted to talk about it, he knew practically nothing about what was actually going on. He wasn’t about to press them for information, though. He’d know in time.

He shot a worried look at Maven when she closed the gate behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, sir. Thanks to you.”

He blushed with the acknowledgment, but made sure to brush it off. Anyone would have done the same, he said. He then let the trio inside his house, where Maven had already been three or four times, and his wife greeted them as well, beckoning them over to a table with tea and cookies. It would ruin their lunch, for sure, but it would be worth it.

The atmosphere was cozy and welcome. The Kavindi household was colourful, peculiar trinkets covering every surface. The table had been set in front of a window which had a view to a tiny backyard, where Johanna noticed they had planted strawberry bushes. She imagined that’s where the homemade jelly on their table came from.

She’d been reluctant, at first, to agree to this visit, wondering if the couple would try to pry too much into her life. But contrary to what she’d been expecting, the two of them acted perfectly polite, at the same time that they were extremely welcoming. They didn’t ignore the fact that she’d been away for so long, making her questions about when she’d be back at college and how taking care of Hilda was, but not once did they touch more delicate topics, and for that she was grateful. They even managed to talk about what happened in the party the night before without focusing too much on Torrin.

As Johanna had brought all the essentials for caring for Hilda in a bag in the stroller, they were able to remain with the couple for a long time. At one point, Erica even asked for permission to pick Hilda up, and took her outside to point out all the different species that she and her husband had planted together.

While the two of them were outside and the women were sitting with Mr. Kavindi on the sofa, to where they’d moved after some time, Maven’s eyes fell to a portrait sitting on a shelf, side by side with a variety of books. There were two men in it; one was the librarian, and she realized she knew the other as well.

“Hold up.” She got up from the couch and picked the picture from the shelf. “That’s my college’s dean, isn’t it?”

Although she’d had little trouble recognizing Mr. Kavindi, seeing as she saw him very often, it was harder to do so with the dean. They were much younger, close to Johanna and Maven’s current age. Mr. Kavindi hummed in agreement and smiled.

“That one is from college!”

Johanna walked closer as well, wanting to see the image. “That’s him, then?”

“Yeah.” Maven nodded. “I never did ask you why he was indebted to you.”

He snorted. “It’s not like he was ‘indebted’ to me.” He gestured as he spoke, making quotation marks with his fingers. “One day he joked that he was, and I’ve never stopped saying that he was. Trust me, he helped you because he saw your potential, not because of some moral obligation.”

Delighted with the compliment but not letting it show, Maven lifted an eyebrow. “That doesn’t really answer the question.”

Shifting in his seat, he blushed, though there was a smile on his face. “He owned me one for kissing him first.”

The two women stared at him. The corners of Maven’s lips began to lift up, and she was pretty sure that Johanna was slack jawed.

“What, you didn’t think you were the only ones in this town, did you?” He joked in good nature.

“Sometimes it feels like it.” Maven muttered somewhat awkwardly, as she was trying to contain a smile. “What happened, if I may ask?”

She put the frame back on the shelf, sitting down next to him again, though Johanna remained standing.

“Well, I met the woman of my life.” He smiled and gestured to the back garden, where his wife was playing with Hilda. “But we remained very good friends.”

“I had no idea that you...” Johanna didn’t finish the sentence, turning her attention to the picture again.

“Most people don’t.”

“In this case, we’re very honored.” Maven sat straight on the sofa, finding a deep and unfamiliar sense of comfort in knowing that she could relate to someone she admired so much in this way. “You didn’t have to tell us, but I’m thankful you did.”

“My girl, I just want you to understand something.” He wanted to put his hand on her shoulder, or even hug her, offering her physical comfort aside from just emotional. But he knew that Maven didn’t appreciate physical contact from many people, so he kept his hands by his sides on the sofa. “You are never as alone as you think you are.”

Maven was in the process of understanding what he meant when Johanna spoke up.

“Hold up.” She turned to them, arms crossed. “How did you know about us?”

Maven’s eyes widened as she realized Johanna had a point; she had never told Mr. Kavindi about her relationship with Johanna and much less about her sexuality. He snorted playfully and tilted his head.

“Adorable how you two think you were being any subtle.”

_#_#_#_

It was a bright Friday afternoon, and Maven was giddy with excitement. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell so because she mostly kept it to herself, a bright contrast with the girl at her side, who was making the most of her walk, trying to keep her balance as she walked on the lines where two pieces of cement met or jumping over cracks in the sidewalk. She had been looking forward to this since the moment she and her friend had scheduled the meeting, the day before. She’d picked Johanna up at her house, and now was leading her to the lovely place her mother would sometimes take her.

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?”

Maven smiled mischievously. “Not yet.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Johanna scoffed. “Well then, Miss Mysterious. Could you at least say why this had to be this weekend? You were pretty insistent.”

“The classes come back on Monday.”

“I know. What of it?”

“Anna, it’ll mark five years of our friendship!” She said happily. She had to admit, she was quite proud of herself for remembering this. And of course, she wanted to do something to celebrate. To show Anna how happy she was that they were still friends after all this time.

“Oh gosh, it does!” She clapped her hands in front of her and then leapt to hug her friend. “That’s amazing!”

“It is.” Maven hugged her back. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you the place I’m taking you to. Not much longer until we get there, though.”

Drawing back, Johanna nodded enthusiastically. “Please!”

“It’s called the Poet’s Retreat. It has the best coffee ever. Mum doesn’t let me have too much, though. She says it’s bad for our growing.”

Smiling, Johanna squeezed Maven’s arms. “I already know I’ll love it.”

_#_#_#_

The day was getting darker by the minute as the sun sank lower. Johanna had suggested they got takeout, and considering t he that her friend was usually the one who cooked, Maven hadn’t objected. She deserved the rest.

This was the reason why now they were taking a different route from before. Leaving the Kavindi’s house to go to their chosen restaurant, they had to head closer to the city center, though still trying to avoid a few streets in particular. For the time being, Johanna didn’t want to risk meeting her parents.

After a while, the blocks became familiar to Johanna as they entered the area she had been more used to when she lived in Trolberg, and so the two of them somewhat switched into automatic mode, not thinking about where they were going, just letting their feed guide them to where they wanted to go and allowing their minds to drift away. After all that had happened in the last twenty four hours, after all they had said to and been told by each other, their thoughts were truly crowded.

It was this distraction which made them not realize where they were until the Johanna had trouble fitting the stroller in the narrow passage between a cracked, waterless fountain and an unkept flowerbed. In the middle of wondering how she’d maneuver that, her eyes widened. She looked around, truly seeing the place at last. They were in the middle of a small park, crossing it as a shortcut to the restaurant. Wild flowers grew widely there, taking over the all but abandoned place.

Maven, who’d been just about to offer help, saw the moment Johanna’s face changed with recognition. And that was when she, too realized where they were. Just like years ago, the sky was beautifully painted with purples and oranges, the sun’s last beams being filtered by the treetops. She immediately turned her head to a spot nearby, on the shadow of a tree, where she knew celosias grew during the warmer months.

The place where they’d first kissed.

A chill ran down Maven’s spine, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as she felt Johanna’s eyes stare a hole in the back of her head. It brought her a strange feeling to look at this place so long after it had happened. They were so different now, and they couldn’t deny it. They had suffered, they had grown; their core was the same, but so much had changed that they could almost be completely different people. And yet, one thing remained the same. They were still terrible at staying away.

“We won’t be able to just be friends again, will we?” Maven whispered with her heart beating furiously against her chest. It was making her somewhat nervous, to feel Johanna’s unwavering gaze on her, but flattered at the same time. They were surrounded by wild beauty, and still she chose to look at her.

“We will, if we really try. But that’s not really what we want, is it?”

Johanna took a step backwards; she’d worry about getting the stroller through the passage in a minute, or maybe they’d pick another path. She walked to Maven’s side, and parked it just beside her.

“No.” Maven said softly, her eyes still glued to that spot. Only when she felt the touch of Johanna’s hand on her shoulder did she come out of her transe, turning to her friend with a slightly labored breathing. Her curls were shining in the little light that remained, and the shadows accentuated the gentle curves of her face. Twilight still looked beautiful on her.

“I don’t think-” Johanna stopped herself from finishing. Words had power, even over oneself. Maybe if she reacquainted herself with speaking with conviction, she’d learn to have confidence again sooner.

“I’m not ready for a relationship yet.” She began again. “But I can’t stand the idea of a future without you.”

Maven stared into her eyes for tense seconds, her brow furrowed and her lips parted with what looked to be disbelief, before she quickly rose on her heels and pressed an urgent kiss to Johanna’s mouth. Her bony hands flew to Johanna’s hair, as if trying to hang on to her, and Johanna hugged her hips close. It felt almost nostalgic, like they’d been offered a second chance. And they would make sure to make it right this time.

It was a while before they fully parted, the sky almost completely dark now. They leaned their foreheads against each other’s, breathing together.

“Good.” Maven said. “Because neither can I.”

They were smiling so much that their cheeks hurt as they drew back. Maven felt like laughing, even. No, she was not over Johanna, and there was nothing wrong with that. They would learn to grow together, to heal together, to live together, because the alternative of being apart was simply too terrible to picture.

This was not their happy ending. They’d still need to work hard to get there. This was their happy beginning, this was an opportunity to make an effort to get there. And Maven knew that, as long as she had Johanna by her side, she’d love every step of the way.