#and the motivations! are all! different!!!

[cup-o-stars]

Last part for old GF sketches

(Actually, most of these aren't old at all, but their average is brought down by the last picture, which I drew back in August and kept forgetting to post)

[lady-griffin]

I LOVE Jinx fixing up/making Sevika’s new arm so goddamn much, because it's this genuinely nice and kind thing for her to do, but she didn't do it for the sake of being nice or kind at all.

Jinx didn’t fix up Sevika’s arm to apologize to Sevika, or make amends, or to start anew with her. She did it because she could. Because it was something she could fix.

And sure, she added all the bells and whistles she thought were fun and 100% knew Sevika would be annoyed with, because she's Jinx and that's who she is.

But she really didn't expect anything from Sevika in return.

It’s also super sweet and adorable of Jinx to wrap up the arm and put a bow on it. She not only put in a whole lot of time and effort into making the arm, but is also making sure to present it as nicely as she can. All for the sake of someone she does not get along with and has actively antagonize in the past.

Really showing us once again how differently Jinx thinks and views things.

There's also the fact Jinx made sure to take the arm with her, even though she's just been gassed and is currently being hunted down.

Now that could just be because the arm is something SHE made, but really, it feels like Jinx was planning to give the arm to Sevika (or honestly just leave it for her), so that’s what she’s going to do, even if Vi is hunting her down.

And yeah, I absolutely love this so goddamn much. Words are not enough.

It also exemplifies something I’ve always thought about Jinx – her intentionally doing something nice and kind for someone else even though being nice and kind were not her main motivators for said thing.

[zoe-oneesama]

1. I really just don’t like how you shit on Chloe in your Au considering that she is technically the Main character now because of her having the ladybug earrings.

2. As for unlikable characters exist. Yeah they do but they usually don’t have a really good back story.

Thomas give her a sad backstory, took that away and made her worse ??? It makes no sense. Especially if it was supposed to be a unlikable character. her backstory isn’t an excuse for her actions but yall hate her for the actions and at the same time don’t want her to change.

(Not only that but he ended replacing her with a very boring and rushed character like Zoé.)

Basically what I’m saying it’s just weird for yall to hate a character that much.

I think it's really weird for y'all to be so defensive of a fictional person, yet here we are.

Perhaps you were mislead because her "hero" form was the title of the AU, but uh, Scarlet Lady was never about Chloe. That's why she didn't, like, grow or anything and why we left her several times to focus on Adrien and Marinette. Having the Ladybug Earrings does not automatically make someone the main character, she's the tritagonist at best. And canonically, she's just a side character with too much screen time.

But even if she was the main character, so what? Scarlet Lady's tone is comical, it was never going to go deep (except in the Finale, kinda) and Chloe was never going to get the 5 Hour Youtube Essay Deep Cut in Comic Form about the Wonderful Person She Had the Potential to Become that viewers like you seem to be craving so badly.

And we fundamentally disagree about Chloe's backstory. It's not a good backstory, it's pretty basic, not even entirely unique to Chloe in the very story it's stuck in, and removing it changes nothing about her or her personality and motivations in the long run. It's used as a weak excuse that's only brought up at random to the point where even canon doesn't buy it anymore.

Though I'm not sure why you think that unlikeable characters can't have sympathetic backstories, the point is usually that despite going through the worst and despite the fact that it's entirely possible if things were different for them that the character could've been someone entirely different (and therefore "likeable"), none of those things erase the things they've done or make them more likeable. It just makes them kinda sad on top of it.

But that doesn't really apply to Chloe since taking out her garbage birth giver still leaves her with Andre who did a good job ruining her all on his own.

Anyway, sorry for the rant, but to wrap it up, sorry you don't like how I do things around here, no one's keeping you here if you don't wanna be faced with it or whatever.

[tammog]

Do you live in a bizarro world?

Kamala did not try to be "centrist". She actively courted Republican voters by trying to be the Republican Party with a different paint job. She wanted genocide in Palestine. She wanted immigrants to be criminalized and MORE people to die during border crossings. She wasn't "Centrist", unless you want to call her that to point out how much she kissed fascist ass while being absolutely ineffectual in how I would use the word "centrist": Derogatorily.

But even aside from her policy her campaign was absolute ass. She started with huge momentum and then turned around 180 to instantly kill it.

Her campaign sent Bill fucking Clinton to Michigan Arab communities to tell them how Israel has a right to shoot missiles at children.

They basically relied on having people actually on the left held hostage - "It's me or Trump", true enough - while then also doing everything to look as much as the Republicans as possible to get Republican votes somehow. IDK why Republicans would vote for watered down Republicans over the real ones, OR how people on the left would NOT lose motivation to vote for her if she tries to be as much as the other guy as she possibly can, so this was a clearly losing strategy in both directions, AS STAFFERS TOLD PEOPLE, AS ANALYSTS WARNED HER AND THE OTHER CAMPAIGN LEADERS, as everyone on the left kept telling people.

And now after the election, an election that she lost because 15 million people just did not show up to vote, in large part because she tried to make herself seem as bad as possible while relying on the fact that people would try to vote for her to avert something worse, who gets the blame?

Not the fascist-maxxing DNC campaign, not even the voter suppression I heard being talked about so much before, but people on the left, minorities, and the fucking Palestinians BEING MURDERED AS YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT THEM despite them not even being in the same country or being able to vote.

So many posts of liberals - derogatory, again - being gleeful that even if they are going to have it bad, Palestinians are going to die. Posts from liberals hoping that minorities get deported. Posts from liberals wishing queer people death because they have deluded themselves into thinking that all these groups made their sports team lose and everything would be fine and dandy if Harris had won.

Look in a mirror. Look at all the things Harris did. Ask yourself if you truly think she did ANYTHING right.

And if you think she did everything right, why don't you go sign up for the GOP or the KKK, they seem to be more your place.

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧mouthwashing✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P6

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

TW: mentions of suicide

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

Daisuke laid down outside the entrance to the cargo room, mouthwash in hand. He was clearly drunk off of it. You sat beside him, rubbing his back in attempt to comfort him.

You found him like this, on the floor in agony. He didn’t need to say anything for you to figure that out. His body language gave it away. So, you did what any loving partner would do in that situation. Comfort him, listen to his words. Or just sit there in silence.

It hurt you to see him in pain. You’ve never seen Daisuke like this before, so vulnerable and fragile. “Daisuke, honey.. please tell me what’s wrong.” You muttered, leaning down as you continued to rub your hand against his back.

He quietly groaned, stirring at your touch. You stopped, hand resting on your lap. “Just leave me alone, Y/N. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to talk.” His voice cracked as he spoke. He sounded like he was trying not to cry.

You didn’t push him and instead stood up, not saying anything as you stepped away and went up the metal stairs towards the lounge area.

You walked through the automatic doors, not expecting to see anyone there. But surprisingly, you saw Anya and Swansea. Anya held the mouthwash, carefully examining the back of the bottle. Swansea was dancing beside the lounge’s couch, music blaring on the radio.

You didn’t bother saying anything to her, assuming she’d want to be alone as well. You passed by her without a word and laid down on the couch, feeling extremely exhausted.

You’ve been getting enough sleep lately, but you couldn’t find yourself getting any motivation. You’re still the same Y/N who came onto this ship. The only difference is that you have friends now.

You sighed, curling in on yourself. The loud sound of the music made your head hurt, but you knew if you said anything, Swansea would just end up getting upset at you. So, you backed off.

You felt like breaking down. You didn’t know how longer you could hang on, not with everyone becoming zombie-like. Ever since you all found the mouthwash, everything’s been going downhill.

Letting a small tear run down your face was a mistake. After a few seconds, there were multiple. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You muffled your cries by covering your mouth with both hands tightly, shutting your eyes and hiding your face in your knees.

You felt weak for crying, but you needed to get it out. You were always taught that crying helps people remember that you’re only human. But whenever you did, you were viewed as pathetic. Maybe just for once, you could cry without feeling guilty for it.

And so, you abused that power. You sobbed hard, not planning on stopping anytime soon. You just wanted to be done with this stupid nonsense and get back to your home. You just wanted to see your family again. You getting your own place didn’t even matter anymore.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You stiffen in fear, one glistening eye peaking out from your knee. It was Jimmy whose hand was on you. You opened your mouth, only a light croaking sound came out. But you pushed through and began speaking.

“What do you w-..want..?” You mumbled, hiding your face from his view as you wiped away your tears with your fingers. “Just wanted to see if you were alright.” He replied, letting your shoulder go.

“Well clearly I’m not.” You whispered harshly, fighting the urge to kick him like a child. “Go away.” You demanded, your voice soft and quiet. He didn’t say anything else and walked away, obeying your words.

You let more tears slip from the corners of your eyes, praying that this all ends soon. This could’ve just been a terrible, terrible dream. You were probably still asleep in your house, waiting for breakfast to be made by your guardian.

You snuffle, feeling the pain of your heart beating. It felt as if it were about to crack open in half and spill out blood. You heard light footsteps get louder, causing you to shove your face back into the couch cushion, hiding your face and covering your head with your arms, fingers latching onto your hair.

They couldn’t even speak before you weeped, your voice soft, yet filled with emotion. “Go away!” You pleaded, cradling your head in your arms. “Y/N?” Anya’s gentle voice rang out as she sat on the edge of the couch, sitting right beside you.

You fought back a cough, not replying to the woman. She hesitantly placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing your clothed skin. “It’ll all be okay, I promise. Once we’re done with being stuck in this mess, you can go back to your regular life.” She softly reassured, not listening to your demands.

A light cough escapes your throat as you hiccup, feeling the air get pushed out of your lungs. You subconsciously sob louder, the music swallowing your cries. The black haired woman was quick to wrap her arms around you, codling your head to her chest.

You grab her biceps as you press the side of your face into her chest. She muffles your cries, shushing you.

“I-.. I don’t know how much longer I can do this!” You admit, feeling the pain get heavier and heavier every time you breathe. You gripped onto her clothed skin as if she were disintegrating from your grasp. She didn’t say anything, silently encouraging you to continue.

You shot her a glance, seeing her concerned face out of the corner of your eye before looking back down, your tears drying up on your cheeks. “I feel so p-..pathetic for wanting to kill myself, but it feels like the only solution right now..” You muttered, slightly stirring in her grasp.

It felt weird to confess your thoughts out loud, but you were relieved to get them out of your throat. Anya ran her fingers through your hair, giving you a small massage before speaking.

“Y/N..” She trailed off, a lump getting caught in her throat. She felt terrible for not noticing any signs earlier, but she was thrilled to know you felt comfortable enough to trust her with your mind.

“It may not seem like it right now, but it’s going to be okay. I know you’re going through a very difficult period, but you shouldn’t be giving up over something we can work through together.” She murmured, her tone of voice soft and gentle.

You felt tears sting your eyes once again, causing you to shut your eyes. The comfort of her presence mixed with her warmth made you feel like you weren’t alone. You tighten your grip on her, light hiccuping sounds coming from your lips.

Anya didn’t shame you for breaking down in front of her. It was like she understood you. You’ve been there for her in the past, and now she’s returning the favor.

After a few minutes, your cries finally stopped. You snuffled, letting Anya loosen herself from your grasp. She guided your head back down onto the couch, giving you a soft smile before walking away. You shut your eyes, drowning out the sound of the radio with static.

______

3 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

“Daisuke?” Your soft voice filled the comforting silence of the lounge room. He sat in his sleeping bag, playing with his Gameboy. You glanced around the room, seeing nobody else. He paused his game and turned his head, a grin plastered across his lips at the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He sat up, setting his device aside his makeshift bed. You gave him a gentle smile before stepping towards the brunette. You leaned over and sat down beside him, wrapping your arms around him.

He melted in your touch, giving you a short lived kiss on the forehead. “What’s up?” He muttered, seeing the hesitant smile on your face that disappeared as he spoke.

You looked away, causing Daisuke to lift his hand and guide your head to look back him, resting his palm on your cheek. “When you.. or, we get back to earth, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?” You tilted your head, leaning into his palm as you waited for his response.

He blinked for a moment in thought, his hand leaving your face and running down the side of your waist, gently grasping your hip. “Marry you!” He chuckled, his eyes lighting up at the idea of marriage. You became flustered, not expecting that answer.

But nonetheless, you giggled along, leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, my sweet boy.” You whispered into his ear, your voice soft as you laid your arms around his shoulders.

“I love you more!” He exclaimed, causing a light giggle to leave your throat. You rolled your eyes and let the topic pass, not wanting to argue about who loves who more.

“You win.” You sighed in defeat, causing him to pump his fist in the air, almost punching your throat.

______

4 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

You sit in a chair that laid to the side of the medical bed, your arms and head resting on the thin sheets as you stare at the burnt man lying down in front of you. You didn’t know why you were in there, but you felt like you needed to talk to him.

It’s been so long since you’ve even seen him, it almost felt refreshing. But alongside that, it was awkward. The captain and you rarely spoke before the crash, and you never spoke after. So what’s the point of doing this?

You gently cleared your throat and lifted your head, catching the eye of Curly. You took a deep breath in before speaking.

“It’s been a while, huh?” You chuckled, ignoring the tightening pain in your chest. “I guess I’ve just, I don’t know.. been wondering why you did it? Everything was going well, I think. But then the crash happened..” You trailed off, feeling your eyelids start to sting, indicating tears were forming.

You fought hard to keep them from falling out as you continued. “Honestly, Curly, I don’t know if I believe that you were the one who crashed us into that asteroid.” You admitted, resting your hands in your lap.

He stared at you, wishing he could do more. He wanted to reach out, to tell you everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. Even though the two of you barely spoke, let alone befriended each other, it was still his job to take care of his crew members.

If he knew this would be his destiny, he would’ve made so much more conversation with you. He knew you liked to be alone, drowning in your own thoughts without any interruptions. But he thought that he could possibly help you with social interactions. But with everything going on, he left that job alone.

You opened your mouth to speak, but got cut off by the sound of the door opening behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to recognize the sound of their footsteps.

“Y/N?” Anya’s soft voice ran through the silence of the medical room, causing you to turn your head towards her.

“I need to give Curly his pills.” She explained, hinting for you to leave. You gave a quiet nod in understanding, giving the captain a short lived wave before walking out of the room, glancing at the woman before doing so.

Oh how you wished you weren’t so dumb.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

authors note

welp, time to get your tissues out!

if you didn’t notice, I changed the banner for this story(and a few other things). the reason for that is because I just felt like it needed a change. hopefully you guys like it!

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, next one will be up soon <33

[chlmtsdoll]

hear me out

reader and girl friends dancing and drinking at a nightclub after work when one of the girls says something like "holy shit, look at those two, they're hot"

when reader turns to look, she sees Patrick and Art laughing and having fun together

"i want the brunette one", one says, "are you crazy? look at the blonde, how hot he is", another responds.

"fifty bucks for whoever gets both"

reader smiles. it's showtime.

OH? IT’S GIVING SATC 🤭

This was supposed to be short but I got carried away I’m afraid ! 🎀 | 18 + smut, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m) receiving, heavy obnoxious flirting, kinda messy reader

When the club had been this crowded with a full dance floor and beautiful men nearly everywhere you looked, finally letting loose after a long work week with your girls was enough motivation to get the confidence pumping between the three of you.

Your friends were frozen. Facing the the bar area where this six foot blonde and brunette were standing, laughing like everything around them was funny. One had an infectious grin, hair untamed and a tight dark skirt that show cased his brooding arms. He was the tallest and had ‘a party girls wet dream’ written all over him. The other slightly more polished, could pass for the stereotypical Ken doll type with his charming smile, sterling blue eyes with golden locks combination. You couldn’t find why he would be here, he looked like the only interested in finding a wife type.

Either way, the two men had your thighs pushing against one another the second the girls began chattering about. And once you heard ‘fifty bucks for whoever can get both’ your ears were all game.

“Oh, I am so in. That brunette is scorching.”

“And ? Look at that blondes jawline, bitch.”

“Double the pay if they both finish.” You announce. Both of your girlfriend’s locks go up in the air as they whip around to see the smirk pulling at your lips. They quickly take upon one of their own as well.

“Oh… the competition just got serious.” One of them says.

“It’s been serious. Those guys are totally loaded..” The other comments.

Your eyebrow dips. “What makes you think that ?”

“Oh come on, what two guys that hot are going to come to the club and not be looking to spend their cash on a girl ?”

Her theory wasn’t too out of range. There was something quite different from the boys across from you all. Setting them apart from the other clueless guys around just trying to get as drunk as they possibly can. There was a more tamed and calculated aura to these two. Something that made them not only sexy, but stand out profoundly.

“..or, they could just be gay.” The other girl replies casually and the three of you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

You giggle, slightly rolling your eyes to land on the two men occasionally eyeing the dance floor as if they’re considering joining in the crowd. And that’s when you caught the gaze of the one with the darker head of hair, he flashed you a smile that sent a thrill straight to your core. You tried not to blush so terribly your friends would be on to you and raise the stakes.

But you couldn't help but ponder if they’d been right too — not about the gay thing, but if they truly we’re packing bills.

And soon you found yourself worrying less about what was in you and your friends wallets, and whatever was in theirs.

“Okay. Let’s get in there. Game on.”

You and your girls were heading over to the bar, tight mini skirts and all with just the right amount of cleavage on display for your upcoming play date. And with hardly any nerves that you’d loose to the two, knowing you had it locked in with the way you just got checked out hard from the brunette all the way across the bar had your hopes high.

As you all were now getting ready to own that bar area, you let your friends have a try at playing with the men first — and it was certainly quite amusing to watch them try to flirt with both the blonde and brunette at the same time.

With fingers twirling in their hair, laughing a little too hysterically at whatever was said and trying to keep both of their attention, you wondered from observation if it crossed them that it wasn’t as easy as they’d think. One of the boys was either off staring at another cute girl or just looking for a drink when your friends hadn’t been trying to sweet talk them into a little more fun. The most they got was a couple flattering laughs from the two.. and you couldn’t help but chuckle yourself, their game play was adorable.

But they failed where you knew best. Multitasking.

So when it was your turn to get your head in the game, one of your friends walking past you in defeat from her attempt whispered, “totally gay.” in your ear post her rejection from the charming boys. You tried not to laugh in her face but you did crack and grin.

You were up next. And you wasted no time going in.

You played it all out in your head within a few minutes of taking note of the two and also of course where your friends lacked. It would be an easy job especially since you spent your week trying to sell to people at work. You knew charm like the back of your hand — soon enough you’d be making out with these guys in the back of the club in no time.

Hips swayed without any real effort as you found where the brunette had been standing nearby the vault of vodka and steely liquor at the bar. Purposefully leaning against the counter and close enough to his side for him to hear you call to get one of the bartenders attention, “Um- - could I get another drink ??” You attempted. But with it being rush hour, they'd all been too occupied.

And that’s when your plan started to make the magic happen.

The towering man beside you glanced over his shoulder at your presence, noticing you weren’t getting any luck with the attention of the bartenders and he inspected your soft and sweetened voice pretty quickly. But also with just how edible he thought you were from earlier, “what do you want, doll face ?” he turned to face you with a grin that was as overwhelmingly striking as they come. It could have made any girl want to drop her panties at the sight. And his voice sounded as if he knew that he absolutely could, “it’s packed in here, yeah ? I’ll get someone for you.”

If it wasn’t for your determination, you would have erupted into a melted pile on the ground after he winked down at you. “Oh- no, it’s fine. I’m sure my friends annoyed you enough.” You laughed lightly and he joined along with you.

“Nah, they’re cute girls… but I gotta admit, I was kinda hopin’ you’d be the one to come over and annoy me a little bit.” His eyes focused on the way your lips curled up into a swayed smile and your face was flustered quicker than the flashing lights on the ceiling. He could be bluffing. And he probably was. Even though that was supposed to be your job here — it was totally working.

You titter, “..really ?”

“Really.”

“Well than, I guess I stumbled into the right spot.” (You wanted to pat yourself on the back. You’d been farther ahead than you even assumed.) “What do they call you ?”

“Patrick, a hell of a fun time, Zweig. Your pick.” his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he took a swing of his drink, and you were all laugher as his green eyes followed you from over the rim.

This was when you could implement the gorgeous blonde to his right — eyeing off to a couple of girls on the floor. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you step a little closer to Patrick, glance going from him to other handsome work of art beside. The space getting less and less personal between you two didn’t scare him either.

“Well, Patrick… who’s your friend- - ?” Your eyes darted to where he stood and the brunette hit his poor friend in the chest to get his attention on you, when he did, you noticed the uniqueness of his eyes up close. You could of seen it from across the bar — but this is another level. Some kind of otherworldly matter, it got you choked up for a moment.

He was about to make you bank.

“This is Art.”

Of course it is.

Your were trying not to drool as you took a little too long to examine the way Art leaned up with a miniature straw pressed against his pretty lips with a soft sideways smirk,

“I think he’s a cutie..” You sputter as you bit your lip with a cheeky smile. Trying not to get lost in Arts gaze — you had to remember the goal, get your head in the game to why you’d walked over here in the first damn place.

“I think you’re both pretty cute..”

“Yeah?” Patrick chuckled and grinned at his friend, they looked at each other like it had been some hidden kind of communication. Like they already knew what the other was trying to say telepathically. That was a signal to you that this was for sure a package deal — you’d have both of them tonight. Not only did they welcome it, but they’d probably been here for that exact motive.

Art gave you a little smile, “We had our eye on you the whole night honestly, so that’s good to know…”

There it is.

You laughed a bit and shrugged. Eyes following back to the darker haired one. “So I heard..”

“How come you aren’t out there?” Art nodded to the dance floor full of bodies, his eyes ran over you, “you’re a stunning girl.. no way none of these guys asked you to dance.”

You hoped to god you weren’t getting flustered. They’re just boys. Ones that you needed to be bedded by till the sun came up, but still.

“I’m- uh.. a bit shy.” (You weren’t. You had your fair share of men in and out of your apartment. Not as stunning as Art and Patrick although, so making them feel extra special wasn’t too much of a stretched truth.) “so it’s rare I even talk to guys.. but you two- - I just had to say something.” You giggled and they were leaning into your laughter with their own. You could swear you smelled Burberry cologne being sent your way from one of them, if not both. Maybe your friends had been right about the wealth.

Art and Patricks attention had been solidly on you. And you didn’t know if it was the way you decided to style your hair tonight, and the way you made sure to keep lustful but sweet eyes between them, or if your friends just sucked at flirting. But you were already yearning to keep this going.

It was time to throw them a curve to lock in their undivided for the rest of the night.

“Well- - I should get back to my friends, they probably think it’s way odd of me to even be over here..” you tittered with a soft goodbye smile as you began to turn away from the men and before you could even step away from the countertop, “wait!” was being called your way from over your shoulder.

A smirk was ridden on your lips once again. You turned back to face their pitch with curiosity.

“Stay a little longer?” Patrick asked of you with a beam.

“Yeah, let us buy you a drink.. what are you? An espresso?”

“No. Man, she’s a cosmo girl, trust me. You are- - aren’t you?” When the brunette corrected his friend, blue and green orbs focused on your answer in desperation you’d keep them a little more company. And you couldn’t help your decisive but giddy expression that was all too pleased with your work here.

“I am actually, yes.” You chuckled before taking a stand between the two tall and handsome men with much more than a quick fuck and collecting your rewards on your mind now. You actually sort of liked them. And that was rare with any man you’d meet doing an activity like clubbing, especially two of them.

As time went on, Art and Patrick were racking up on buying you drink after drink. As many as you wanted. Within as little as an hour that passed, you’d been with the two boys as if you’d known them your entire life. It could have been borderline love bombing with how fast you went from zero to a hundred. Both men simultaneously wrapping their arms around you from behind, laughing loudly as you’d been glued between the two of them. Even dancing in ways more than a couple flirts could have gotten you.

The boys were more than happy to keep tipping the bartenders with haughty smirks after getting you sparked up and hanging on their arms of course, even having one too many of their own. The three of you took it to the lounge area and your friends would be somewhere watching in disbelief and slight envy of how quickly you were able to get handsy with Art and Patrick.

You’d been passed back and forth on their laps as you chatted and even snuck a couple kisses by now. Totally giddy off their energy and the liquids they’d been giving you. The way Art had slipped his wallet back into his back pocket after buying you another drink, was a straight turn on to the point you’d been sticking sugary kisses to his neck as he did so with a couple playful bites, the man grinned at your bubbly essence. Your not so careful hands slid up his chest and slung over his shoulders, “Mmm- -You’re the sweet one aren’t you?” You giggle, finger tips run over his jaw and Art bit down on his peachy lip while he held on to your hips nice and easy, yet with a respectful distance. He couldn’t find the words to define the way he’d been enjoying the way you stroked his ego all night long.

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s actually a menace.” Patrick scoffed as he sat man spread in the seat across from you two with a cigarette in hand.

“Fuck off.” His friend defended lightly. It was the way you could tell he enjoyed the playful banter when Patrick poked at him tonight that solidified to you just how close they really were. You thought it was adorable.

“You two really do everything together, huh?” You toyed with Arts now loose collar, casually sipping on something clear with flirtatious eyes, and the man shrugged a bit as he glanced at the brunette across from him who was hiding a sardonic kind of look behind his glass.

“I mean, well- - somethings..” The blonde nodded with a soft smile, but you raised a brow. “Most things.” He corrected, he and Patrick narrowed eyes at one another. You noticed with a devious little hum at the way the blonde had still been holding back. It made your lips turn up with a grin, watching between the two as Art struggled to confess the obvious. “Okay. Yeah- kind of.. everything.” With a flustered look towards the brunette, Arts eyes trailed off with a sort of blush as you leaned into his shoulder. All close to the blue eyed man getting harshly coy now.

“That’s so cute. Like brothers..” you smiled in Patrick’s direction and he immediately let out heavy laughter.

“Not exactly.” The other man grinned. You tilted your head some, and looked at Art again with wonder in your eyes.

“Like.. lovers ?” Your eyes were wide as you focused on the blonde and he shook his head and drowned out his flustered expression with a swing from his glass. Patrick had smirked at your final conclusion, but still, the two gave you not a significant confirmation spite lingering looks and the newfound heat coming from Arts body.

Holy fuck

not just one, but both your friends had been right.

You were already one step ahead with more questions to coax out of the two if a bartender hadn’t interrupted with a new round of shots and your mind was quickly occupied as you ‘ooo’d’ at the tray being set beyond you. Patrick met your gaze and grinned. “Baby, come take one with me,” you were cheerfully being swapped from Arts lap to Patrick’s — bouncing over his way and also grabbing a shot with him.

A quick clink of your glasses filled the air along with your energetic giggles as the man who groped you with firmness in his lap contrast Art, drowned the substance at the same time. Patricks roaming hands were coarse and just as bold as he was when you straddled him after letting the liquor flow down your throat with ease, you wiped your stained lips with the back of your palm.

“Shit.. you took that so well, pretty girl..” Patrick took the glass from your hands, his hooded eyes stayed on you with a smirk. You brushed your fingers over the light stubble to his chin and leaned in close,

“I can take a lot of things pretty well.” You whispered so only he could hear with a smile, you scanned the area proudly as you were very aware of the show you’d been putting up all night. Patrick shifted in his seat with arousal, lips inches away from yours so you went in deep with a kiss.

The man groaned, “Is that so?” He pushed your hips farther into his lap as you’d been lipping off his jaw with a prideful giggle. You were messing with the hem of his shirt as you remembered you still had your own benefit of the deal to seal — getting the boys somewhere you could have your way with them. You came this far, why stop now when you’d been so close to victory?

“Mmhm… want me to show you how?”

Your words were music to the brunettes ears. His eyebrows rose as he watched you lean up with a grin, intertwining your fingers through his knuckles and Patrick stood as you were able to grab Arts attention too. Abruptly stripping him of his seat as well. “oh- - we’re going somewhere else..” the blonde rushed to follow where you’d been leading for a little more privacy. A secluded vip party section that you were a hundred percent not allowed in without a fee — but something about the trespassing turned you on even more. With a finger to your lips, you gave the two a silent “shh” along with your little grin and lustful eyes. They were all in with thrill and eager hands to get on you anyways.

You had gone to the nervously flattered one first. Taking his hands to wrap them around your waist, you stood on your toes to press your lips against his, carefully moving your jaw with Art’s and melting into the dance of it on instant. Your fingertips crawl through his butterscotch tinted curls like you couldn’t get enough. And Art went to a little bit of a risk, he didn’t stop his hands from slipping down to grip your ass beneath your tight skirt.

“Mmm.. easy blondie- -” you giggled with a soft push to his collarbone so he’d been a tad away from you once again, and Art finally let himself breathe with a mumbled curse coming from his lips.

You then made your way to the brunette beside him — but before you could even take your stance, the man pulled you in without a warning. Pressing his broad body against you as he collided his mouth with yours in one swift motion and your whimpers had been an immediate reaction by the way Patrick left sloppy kisses wherever he could. Down your neck, over the top of your chest. You grinned as you eyed the man next to him while Patrick tore into your skin.

You found the vile rising tent in Arts jeans quite cute.

You let your hand trail to where his button began and you undid it as quick as you could with the way Patrick had been holding your body like some kind of rag doll. Art helped you unzip them, and when Patrick had flung you around so your back was flush against his chest, your jaw was unleashed as you squealed.

“You really aren’t shy are you?” His voice was richer than before — full of the whisky and pent up from the foreplay of the last hour making you let out a loose laugh while the man pushed past your messy hair to kiss on your neck.

“I am- - but even the quite ones have our needs.. right, Art?”

The blonde let out a coy chuckle before his blush took over more of his expression and with that you had been hiking up your skirt to tuck your thumbs into the hem of your panties to pull them down your thighs. “Oh, shit.. shit” Art was already softly groaning as you used his undone belt buckle as leverage to get the lacy pair from your feet and he watched with overwhelming interest in the way Patrick caught your drift and started to get his own belt gone faster than you got them into that room.

“Fuck” Patrick, equally aroused, groaned when he had got his hardened dick out of his boxers. Your mind was so clouded from the tension of the way he grabbed on to your clothed breasts behind your top, rummaging to find your sensitive nipples — you were panting from the friction of his throbbing member that was far ready to fuck you senseless, just brushing against your upper thigh. You bit down on your lip hard as you looked up at the finely built man behind you who had a smirk stuck to his face before he toyed at your already slick pussy with his fingers.

“Go on… put it in- -” your drunken mind went fuzzy when the dark haired man started to slide through your walls, your hand went slapping against whatever you could reach in the confined space you’d been in as a full moan escaped you — your eyes fluttered from the way Patrick stretched you open on his cock. Keeping both hands on your hips so you didn’t fall over as your legs already begun to go weak. He didn’t even hesitate to plunge into you with a grunt. “I wasn’t- - even planning on.. fucking you tonight, but fuck, I knew you wanted it.” Patrick groaned out while he snapped his hips against your ass and you turned into a mess of whimpers. You’d been in a slight arch for his entrance, cunt clenching around his length so much so you were sure to turn into a stuttering mess within minutes.

Arts reddened cock was on your mind as he’d been right ahead of you just in reach of your sloppy fuck with the brunette. And as “Oh ! Fuck.. yes, yes” was being thrusted out of you, you still reached out to start stroking him. Art hissed on contact with your warm palms on his shaft like you’d been a pro. And he was gorgeous, eyebrows knitted away as he melted into your heavenly coax of his dick, stiff enough to cum right then just from the voyeurism of it all.

“Baby.. faster- - just like that..” Art groaned before putting a hand on your waist that was being rutted by his friend. You spit on your hand quickly before going back to use it on Art. Your legs were in fact giving out — but the bliss due to the man fucking into you was just too good to let go to waste.

“Patrick..keep fucking me- - mmm.. please, it feels so-so good.” You whine while your wetness sticks to the curve of your inner thighs, you could hear the man’s haughty snicker run through your ears. He was now digging his fingers into your hips, slowing his movements to watching himself pump in and out of your hole with rhythm.

“Hold still, sweet girl.. I’m gonna make you cum- -”

That wasn’t what you needed. But what the heck.

With Patrick pounding a couple cries out of you down the line, he'd been putting his hands roughly in your hair to push you over the ledge as you began to make a mess on his twitching cock. “Mmmh.. f-fuck- yes..!” You couldn’t give a damn at how loud you were being. Your creamy juices were left on the man as he wasted no time to pull out of you and start pumping away at his cock on your backside. Using the wall as a rest with his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he released ropes of his cum on to the dip of your back with a low grunt. By the time he tapped the last few drops on your ass, you had a teasing little hazy smile on your face and Patrick held you up again like used goods.

You got one down. You already knew with a few strokes of your tongue, Art would have that sweet release too. So you got on your knees without a question and attached your generous lips around the blondes member. He closed his eyes to feel the heated wetness of your mouth closing on him. “Oh god,” he panted as you suctioned your lips around his tip. Te naughtiest kind of sounds leaving you while you sucked a climax from Art at the same time. The feeling of his cock down your throat, mixed with the moaning through the moment his cum flows through, made your mouth feel totally full and fucked out. Art cursed at the way you looked so pretty taking him on your knees like this — but he thought you were far too comely to be down there for long, so as soon as you swallowed he helped you rise to your feet with a small stumble, but the man managed to keep you aligned as he grabbed hold of you with a soft grin.

“You’re too good, even drunk. I mean, shit..” Patrick panted as he observed your state. Just like before. Arms flung over Arts shoulders as you leaned into him with flirtatiousness.

“You fuck good.” You eyed him back, your voice was a little too impressed to the brunette, but he was appreciative of the acknowledgement. You had focused on the blonde again, whose chest was against yours, running your finger over his cheek in playfulness with a small giggle.

“And you have to play Ken in me next time..”

He looked down as he just couldn’t help himself but shy away from your compliment. “next time, huh ?” Art questioned with a soft chuckle, You nodded and kept your place temptingly close to the blondes lips. “Well then, we’ve gotta get you home first.”

After Patrick and Art insisted on paying for your Uber back to your apartment, they were also nearly begging for your number as well — and after a few waters to sober up, and a kind hearted snap of your seatbelt from one of the boys, you eventually did give in.

You nearly forgot you had a pay to pick up from your friends at your hangover brunch the next morning, and of course the girls wanted all the details about everything from the previous night while bills were paid to you gladly.

You planned on giving the two hot guys at the bar a handjob and couple kisses at the beginning. But exposing to your friends that you got to cum on Patrick’s cock while you jerked off Art and sealed your deal was an extra bonus as they both ended up being as sweet as they come.

Maybe two boyfriends wouldn’t hurt.

[fancyfeathers]

So with the daughter darling of Bruce, her and Damian’s Dynamic seems to be interesting. They are both Bruce’s biological children, but from different mothers. How does he see her? Or if they interact at school?

Referencing this post

It’s a bit weird since he has never had family who were actually normal or as close as one could be to normal. Part of him wonders why their lives were made to be so different, while he was being trained as a child she was being doted on by her mother and their friends, the apple of her mother’s eye. He knows they have different mothers but they are still siblings in the end, and then her mother is his stepmother. He does not know if he envies her or pities her, she had a normal childhood being raised without needing to stress or watch her back, but then at the same time she is weak and completely defenseless, almost pathetic really.

Then again someone who has no way of fighting back has no way of having a true alternative motive, or at least no way of backing it up. So he is able to let his guard down around her and his stepmother for the most part, sure there are times where they might act out but in the end it poses no real threat. But it is because he can let his guard down around her is the exact reason why his own obsession sets in, he can lay down next her and hold her and there will be no real struggle against him, she is too scared to anything.

Then when it comes to school is when his obsession and possessive tendencies show clearly. He is probably a few years older than her so they are in different classes, so luckily she can have friends in the classroom but that is where it stops, when the lunch bell rings he is dragging her off to sit with him and he scares off anyone else, same thing with free time and there are no such thing as extracurriculars for her. Soon her friends in class just don’t see it as worth it to be friends with her cause of her brother so she is all alone besides him and school becomes a slight living hell for her.

Also I am just imagining Mother!Darling reading to her daughter before bed and Damian comes in and sits on the other side of his stepmother and being able to fall asleep without an issue.

Or just imagine Talia meeting her son’s stepmom and stepsister…

[siryouarebeingmocked]

women wind up directing their understandable anger re: sexism at the wrong targets (boys/men in general)

Hey, uh, pop quiz; if the anger is directed at the wrong people, why do you imply the anger itself must be "understandable"?

Plenty of women - and men - are just nuts. And will be jerks at anyone who vaguely looks like the person who they dislike.

Sexism is no different.

Also, feminism regularly and explicitly blames (boys/men in general) for, oh, a lot of stuff! Like assuming that any society run by men, ever, must be sexist against women.

when what we really have to fight is specific abusers & the power structures that breed patriarchy

I swear, I hadn't read this bit when I wrote the last bit.

Also, there is a very big gap between those two, and implying that those abusers are necessarily men is…still pretty sexist and toxic.

Society, including folks like you, regularly gender the issue. Despite claiming to, um, be against traditional societal gender roles.

Weird!

I'm not sure what you expect to happen when you tell men, "we need to fight against any society where men are in charge, because that's inherently bad."

it's fucking bleak! that 50%+ of men fucking sucks! all of this is true and more. alas for a complicated world

So, just for comparison's sake, if anyone said, "I don't hate women. I only hate women who don't do what I want, while carefully ignoring the men or imagining they must have some kind of sympathetic motive." would you hesitate more than a second before calling them a sexist?

I might. But only for boggling purposes.

and. again. must it be said? a non-insignificant amount of the man- hating rhetoric is terf 101/female isolationist/male biology bs

Yes, it's almost like the core problem is their hatred of men and rampant bigotry, and the secondary problem is what they define as "men".

And regular radfems are only slightly less bad.

Also, the vast majority of radfems I've seen, TE or not? They don't mention biology at all.

Unless you count saying "men are all bigger and stronger than women, so a woman could never REALLY be a threat to a man, so stop talking about female on male abuse now!"

And frankly, if you only feel okay with full-throatedly denouncing bad actors on your team when they're far enough away from the mainstream and are already widely hated for another issue, you're part of the problem.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[dreamsofmoney]

-> L&NDS Sylus x reader

GN!reader, sub!Sylus who resists but defeated at the end, dom!reader (kinda mean and harsh reader), slightly yandere Sylus, suggestive but nothing explicit

Sylus is portrayed as very dominant in game, the first meeting with him alone is enough to give a clear understanding of what kind of person he is (or at least how he wants to show off in front of others) : a strong and ferocious man whose authority rules over everybody around him.

For that reason, it was quite a shock for him to witness you being so daring around him during that night, the one after he had saved you from those delinquents (more like kidnapped you, but he sees it differently) .

To think that you were so helpless just a few hours ago when he had found you and kept you safe in his mansion ; at night you were suddenly brave enough to enter his bedroom, quietly pushing the doors, stepping in as quickly as a little mouse. While he was sleeping, you carefully took his large hand, clasping the handcuffs on his soft wrist and attaching the other end to the bed frame.

Sylus was a light sleeper, the minimal sounds of the bedsheets moving, the click of the handcuffs or even just your steady breath were enough to avert his attention. As the predator that he usually is, the white haired man was ready to pounce on his prey, catch it, and imprison it again for daring to prowl around him.

He was just about to open his eyes, until he felt a ghostly touch on his bare shoulder, going down to his chest, pushing the thin blanket further away. Now he could only feel amused by your manoeuvres ; really, the little hopeless prey he saved was taking their chance in seducing him with their charms, right in his moment of vulnerability in the middle of the night? He restrained a smirk forming on his lips. But what could happen anyway after he takes the matter in his control?

All of a sudden you grip Sylus's chin in your left hand, making him wince under you. He lets out a grunt when he feels his teeth clench under your grasp, urgently alerted by your actions he glares towards your direction but he can't see you yet. The lights above blind him and he can only make out your silhouette on top of him : one thing that he is sure of is that you're smiling widely at him, as you let out a quiet guttural laugh, mocking his reaction.

However, Sylus is a man who knows how to keep calm and stay level-headed.

" The little bird came for somethin'? " he teases between his gritted teeth. Sylus wonders what exactly has motivated you to act like this; perhaps revenge, perhaps you've realized he is your savior and you've grown a liking into him, hence your seductive approach for the night - or something far more sinister is in your plans.

Silently, you trace your right handed fingers over different areas of his upper body, your soft feathery touch lingering and making him shudder. Although he keeps his composure stable, you can feel the goosebumps of his skin and his body hair rising up. He grows impatient of your little game, as you keep playing with him and you tighten your grip on his face, you know it's only a matter of time until the tiger snaps : you must tame it quickly.

You push the blanket further down, revealing more of his naked body ; the coldness that hits him makes him tense even more, his glare becomes more menacing, trying to pierce right through you and yet, you keep an immutable tranquility in your movements. Suddenly, you violently turn his face to the right, Sylus lets out a small gasp, then he feels a crushing pain in his left wrist, his arm forcibly pinned above his head. He ignores the pain and when he turns his gaze back at you, you tower over him, you're much closer, he can finally observe the traits of your face from up close. He notices this intense shining in your slitted eyes, with a big grin plastered on your face, somewhat of an evil look that he cannot help but find adorable too. You seem amused by the situation, while Sylus cannot feel more frustrated than now, he's not in for the teasing and playing around anymore.

"Birdie I don't know what you're trynna do here, but I suggest you to stop. Prying on me so noisily, with this kind of ridiculous method and accessory isn't gonna lead you to a good outcome."

"No. You just don't understand what's coming for you Sylus, and you had no idea of what I am capable of when you decided to bring me here. Now I'll show you just that."

Sylus frowns his eyebrows at your answer, utterly astonished and confused by your words.

The swift touch of your right handed fingers comes in contact with the supple skin of his chest again, lightly pinching at it here and there, then caresses up his neck, while a subtle pressure between his legs makes him impulsively squirm underneath you.

"I'm sorry Sylus, but I'm the one keeping you trapped this time."

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

Obviously this was inspired from the first encounter with Sylus in game and the moment when MC comes into his bedroom to steal the brooch. I really liked that moment in the game so I wanted to give it different turn hehe.

Writing is so hard!!! It's been so long since I wrote anything and this is my first or second time posting a drabble on here - I don't remember - so please do share, repost, like and comment if you like it and if you want more. Don't hesitate to come chat with me too if you wanna!

Also, excuse me for any spelling mistakes and grammar errors, english isn't my first language and I learn my language the way I eat my ice cream : messily.

[fatcatlittlebox]

I find the recent comments from showrunners Payne and McKay interesting particularly when they state that Sauron did not want to kill Galadriel in the finale duel but for her to acknowledge him and "give him credit." Now why would that matter so much to him if not for the possibility that what he had done was done so with her in mind? Meaning, Sauron was thinking of Galadriel this whole time. His return to Mordor, the rings, his conquest. They are the broad strokes to the greater masterpiece he is shaping for her. She is his inspiration. She is his audience. Which brings me back to the theme of eyes. His eyes and hers. Eyes that see and look. The Eye is the mark of Sauron. But more than anything he wants Galadriel to see him. I made this last gifset to illustrate how this is the focus of Sauron's obsession and motivation.

Throughout his existence so far, he has been gifted and plagued by his ability to shapeshift and change form at will. He "has had many names." You see how this weighs upon his soul. He has had too many names. He has worn so many faces to too many people. He’s weary and the burden of not being seen for so many years, thousands - he almost comes apart.

This is why he desperately longs for Galadriel to see him. Not as the “abhorred” but as himself. Because to be seen is to be whole. To have one, true name even if it isn't uttered aloud. This is what Adar asked of Galadriel and I think it's meant to reflect Sauron as well. The difference is that Adar embraced the name he had earned while Sauron rejects his. Sauron hates his earned name because it is a constant reminder of how alone and misunderstood he feels in his purpose. That is until he meets Galadriel. She doesn’t abhor “Halbrand.” She loves him. She sees him. To her he is “friend" and "king."

"Galadriel. Look at me.” I believe that she did fall in love with the real him and he knows it. It's why he will always keep “Halbrand.” He will linger in the memories of when Galadriel knew him this way. That's why he continues to look like some variation of Halbrand. Because that's how Galadriel saw him. This the illusion he created for himself and one he is reluctant to leave. As long as she can see him. Just the possibility and the hope.

And while Galadriel can claim fondness for the part of him that was soft, vulnerable and human, that is not all she fell for. And Sauron won't let her get away with excusing herself or denying that she loved the parts that were truly him. This gesture, when he has her impaled with the crown and she averts her eyes away from his gaze.

He jerks her eyes upward as if to say, "Look." She fell in love with this person too. Sauron is Halbrand. The rage-filled, domineering and ambitious, violent spirit. He won't let her deny it. He won't let her look away. This is what they shared. She did not shrink before him when he pushed her away, when he told her of his darkness, when he told her, and showed her of how cruel and manipulative he could be. Remember, he saw her rage and vengeful side too. "Galadriel. Look at me." He says it aloud and presses these words upon her mind like a phantom prayer. His words probably haunt her soul. She feels it. It's what she hints at when she admits to Elrond that Gil Galad doesn't trust her alone with Sauron: You know why. The constant question that gropes her thoughts. It's the open invitation that still keeps the door open to his mind. She says she perceives "all of his mind as it concerns elves." I don't think that's because that is all that Sauron allows her to see. I think it's because that is what most occupies his thoughts. Her.

That's why, as I have previously wrote, I think the events of season 2 were setting the groundwork for manifesting the plan Sauron has for shaping the world as he saw it with Galadriel. He is going to enact their shared vision and, he believes, Galadriel will see its beauty and worth and return to him. Which leads me to her parting words to Sauron in episode 8. She tells him to heal himself. I think by now Sauron has enough insight to see that he is indeed a broken spirit. It comes up in his confessions with Celebrimbor and the showrunners have already hinted that Sauron is becoming increasingly aware that there is something about his very essence that poisons every meaningful relationship he has and dooms him to failure and despair. He also says to Galadriel at the start of their swordfight that he want to "heal..." and before he finishes with "Middle Earth", he pauses. He was going to say that he wants to heal himself. So by the time the viewer sees Galadriel tell him to basically fuck off and heal himself, those seeds are actually already planted. He has to cure himself of this blight. He has to purge himself of it. And now he has explicit instructions from Galadriel. He sees and remembers everything, right? He's going to do it. He's going to try to repair what he may see as his defect. It will be interesting to see how he interprets his marching orders from his queen. I think that is where the One Ring comes in.

The showrunners have already hinted that the forging of the One Ring will be an upcoming storyline soon. They also hinted that he's going to fuck something up. Furthermore, the audience has already been shown that the more of himself Sauron puts into a ring of power, the more corrupted and less potent of a creative, benevolent force it imparts. They've also shown that when Sauron tries to make rings on his own, he fails in the final product. He even went through a whole batch of mithril on his own without success. So if the writers have hinted that Sauron errs in the making of the ring, what could they possibly mean? Where did he go wrong? Is it that Sauron had different intentions for the Ring's purpose than what it ended up becoming? Or that he fulfilled its malicious purpose but with unintended side effects? If the former, I wonder if his true intention with the One Ring is to create another healing ring of power, his own ring as a mate of Galadriel's. Maybe he forges it, believing that this would meet Galadriel's demand to heal himself. The shownrunners have already shown that they like to put unexpected layers to the most well-known parts of Tolkien: “One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.” Maybe those words have additional meaning.

[tucsonhorse]

I am a teen librarian at a public library and all my coworkers seem amazed that I can "stand" to work with teens so much (even my supervisor who is very supportive told me not to get too narrowly focused because "teen librarians have a shelf life").

It took me a while to understand why because I'm not good at distinctions among age groups and basically just treat the teens like I do people my own age (yes,I do add some filters for appropriateness, that much I do get). I ask what they're interested in and let my enjoyment show when they tell me about it, I tell them they did good when they work hard at something, I thank them when they help out. What I think is often just as important, I give them choices, let them ask questions without criticism, and don't expect them to just do what I tell them and accept it.

Usually they have to get over an initial surprise and distrust, but they pretty quickly figure out that if I make a mistake I will admit it and apologize, explain the reason I'm doing things, and actually listen when they give feedback. And that makes a world of difference.

One thing I do with non-teens (as well as teens but it doesn't stand out to them as much) is thank them and tell them I'm proud of them when they take care of themselves. We're all so used to being expected to run ourselves ragged and when we finally say we need a break having it grudgingly accepted. But when a friend says they can't come to a thing because they are out of people points I reply with "thank you for taking care of yourself". When a coworker says they can't help with a project I thank them for knowing their limits. When a friend says they just watched TV all day because they didn't have the motivation to do anything else I say I'm proud of them for letting themselves rest.

It is so simple to encourage people to really take care of themselves, but you have to be aware. All anyone really wants is acceptance and appreciation, and it costs nothing for us to give that to them.

consider: teenagers aren’t apathetic about everything they’re just used to you shitting all over whatever they show excitement about

[omensandwonders]

filthy thoughts about the eepy boys

im in a whole other universe of down horrendous after FINALLY seeing the boys live (well, II and Ves (im crying)) so... this is my outlet. youre welcome and/ or im sorry

warnings: pure filth

vessel:

♤ a munch and a yapper, idc

♤ only time this man shuts up is when his head's buried between your legs and even that's loud, with the way he's groaning into your cunt

♤ eats like he will never see another woman again after this, hands grabbing everywhere he can reach - thighs, ass, stomach, waist.

♤ often uses both tongue and fingers, either fucking his fingers into you while sucking your clit or rubbing tight circles on your clit with his thumb while he's tongue fucking you

♤ mans is hung (we all know it) so he will absolutely make you cum at least three times with his fingers and tongue before giving you his dick

♤ when he does, he's so vocal, groans and whines leaving his throat completely unrestrained

♤ forgets how strong he is, often leaving your thighs, hips and waist bruised

♤ STAMINA.

♤ youre not done until hes done

♤ filthy mouth on that one i tell you

♤ now i also see vessel being more dominant and calculating, but... more on that later if yall want that (👀?)

♤ all im sayin... i think hes the most dominant of all of them... his hand + your throat =mmdjxjisjs (also *cough* spit kink *cough*)

"o-oh my god, darlin', squeezin' me so good- j-just like that, such a good girl for me, takin' it so well-"

"so tight, feels soo good my love, j-just one more for me-"

II:

♤ suddenly my ass is a drum

♤ would it be too on the nose to say he's an ass man who loveeees spanking? actually this is my post so IDC IM SAYIN IT

♤ ass man who loves spanking

♤ impact play in general i dare say

♤ mean slaps whenever you least expect them, wherever you least expect them - face, pussy, ass - he loves your reaction

♤ but can you blame him? you look so pretty looking up at him with those hazy, tear-filled eyes

♤ now vessel gets mean and rough just cause he's desperate. II gets mean and rough because he wants to wreck you. very different motivations there (though im a firm believer that ves has his mean streaks too)

♤ you've been misbehaving? have fun riding him with your hands tied and his hand around your throat. doesnt matter how bad your thighs hurt, he's not helping. also, youre not cumming

♤ loves fucking you face down ass up, with a hand on the back of your head or back of your neck to keep you pinned down

♤ edging ‼️ overstim ‼️ pain ‼️ degradation ‼️ thank you for coming to my ted talk

"you've been nothing but a slut all fuckin' day, throwin' yourself at Ive like that, and you think i'll let you cum? nah, fuck that. you got about another half an hour in you before that, if at all"

"such a pretty lil' bitch for me, crying on my dick like that. you like it when i hurt you? like it when i slap this fuckin pussy?"

"so dramatic, that was only your fourth orgasm. you got at least three more in you"

III:

♤ say it with me now, MESSY

♤ i think III is similar to ves' desperate side, but... more

♤ more desperate, more subby, more whiny, more drooly

♤ will beg. god knows for what but sure it's hot so why the hell would you stop him

♤ sometimes he gets so lost in it his thrusts get uncoordinated

♤ so sloppy, rutting into you like a dog in heat

♤ i could imagine a threesome between you, III and ves... where ves is the one in charge

♤ sitting on a chair next to the bed, running his mouth while III basically sobs while pumping into you

♤ god, he cums so much

♤ absolute loads

♤ idk if this is a hot take or not but possibly the subbiest of the boys?? though i still dont see him as a FULL on sub, maybe a switch? idek i feel like he could go either way

"oooh my fuckin' god doll, so good to me, so fuckin' good- feels so good- 'm gonna cum, cum inside that sweet pussy-"

"love you so much just- just lemme please- just the tip baby-"

"if you don't suck my dick right now i'm gonna lose my mind-"

IV:

♤ also one i see as being dominant

♤ such. a fucking. tease. lord help us all.

♤ learns how to play your body like a fuckin instrument within days, gets you sobbing and pleading within minutes

♤ after what feels like hours of teasing you - toying with and biting your nipples, leaving hickeys all over, touching everywhere but where you need him most - he finally gives in and fingers you and you swear to god you see stars

♤ we all know this man can use his fingers, the way he plays guitar. to him, your body is the most beautiful instrument and he'll be fuckin damned if he can't master it

♤ when he fucks you, he's so rough, all filthy words in your ear as his thick dick drags against your walls

♤ sigh, a biter

♤ leaves bite marks all over you

♤ not satisfied until youre sobbing and trembling beneath him, globs of his cum leaking out of your abused cunt (wrap it before you tap it)

♤ god help you when he discovers remote controlled vibrators

"so drunk on my dick, aren't ya love? that's okay. i'm takin' care or you, don't need to think anymore, just keep those legs nice and open for me"

"can't remember your own name, can ya, love? that's okay, only gotta know mine"

"good fuckin' girl, always so wet and ready for me..."

did i mention that i think they all share a HEAVY breeding kink? no? oops

[the-rebel-archivist]

Finally finished Veilguard a few days ago and took some time to process and put my thoughts in order. In brief: 8/10 game as a whole, a really fantastic gaming experience, but 5 or even 4/10 as a dragon age game since it does no meaningful exploration of any nuance or moral complexity and seems to have forgotten what made Thedas distinct. My thoughts, critical and positive, coming from a place of love for the series with little to no spoilers:

Thedas has always been special to me because it was a nuanced world. Different groups had different opinions based on their pasts. City elves and the dalish had divergent histories. Injustice against magic was common, but you could understand the justification for it even when you didn’t agree. Now, the worldbuilding is flattened. A mageocracy is fine, it’s only bad apples. Slavery is never addressed. City and dalish elves are basically the same but one lives in the forest. There’s no conflict about what’s best from each individuals’ perception, all groups are monoliths.

“Elves won’t follow the gods just because they’re elves,” yes they would, in past lore. Perhaps not all but some would - these are their Creators. The game refuses to deal with religious belief in any meaningful way, to the point that I don't know if its impact is fully understood. Dalish religion is as much about cultural preservation as religion and it would be CRUSHING to lose that connection to the past when it had been all you could cling to for thousands of years.

And no, seeking out relics of Arlathan would not make up for the foundation of your society shattering and what that would mean to the dalish. Bellara being guilty that her gods are evil is not the takeaway I expected when I thought the dalish would explore that everything they believed was a lie. I'd also like to briefly comment on how an elf can comment that they weren’t raised dalish but adopted their tattoos. Their closed practice tattoos. Closed even to city elves unless they fully joined a clan. Removing cultural boundaries didn’t make the material less 'problematic', it just created a new blind spot.

“They’d never sanitize the Crows” I said before release. Assassins who walked the line between murderer and hero depending on perspective. But in this game they give you absolute truth: they’re freedom fighters. Responsible government who, the mob is benevolent and that is never subverted. They see themselves as the 'good guys' and so they are.

“They wouldn’t put powerful mages in charge of the shadow dragons” I said. “Surely they will explore the nuance of Neve having the privilege of magic in a mageocracy even when she comes from a lower class beyond ‘everyone is welcome in the shadow dragons’.” “Surely if Maevaris is connected her intersectionality as a magister and altus and trans woman will come up - not what Tevinter expects, helping with change, but still privileged and upper class. Surely low class non mages and slaves would be leading the Shadow Dragons, not the powerful being benevolent.”

But no. All factions in the game are black and white, good and evil, no moral complexity. The bad people want power and collect bad people who want power and only bad people do bad things. The antagonists I liked most were the ones with a motivation beyond simply power and they were few.

And that’s setting aside the fact that all of the mystery and fantasy was removed from the setting by the end. The things that mattered before, the religious conflicts, the approaches to history? All false or meaningless now that we know absolute truth. Everything that set Dragon Age apart from generic fantasy was flattened. All of the lore for the world that I had spent hours, days, years in and creating fanfic for became simple groups of good and bad, subjectivity replaced by objective truth. It’s not a world I want to unravel and explore anymore.

That hurts more than the slap in the face that was every cameo and past reference. If they wanted a soft reboot, why include them at all? Every time I saw or heard about a past character or event I felt hurt and angry and it actively harmed my experience of the game. When the choices are pared down to only do something "meaningful" with them and then that meaningful thing is a codex that had been so disdained in dev comments? I do feel pretty let down. Especially when that codex isn’t even personalized.

They never use Rook or the inquisitor’s first name in text once. Vocal I get, but no codex? The Inquisitor, a person depersonalized into a symbol, signing off “Yrs. The Inquisitor” when we input their name in CC was a twist of the knife I didn’t expect. It’s like every time I lower my expectations to grant grace they need to be lowered yet again.

Similarly, the romances in the “most romantic game yet” are paper thin throughout the game depending on your choice, with few chances to truly connect on an emotional level and have deep conversations in some routes. It’s not all about kissing but having the chance to say how you feel, or try to.

But that’s part of a larger problem, that this is a “found family” but Rook is the outsider in it. Rook isn’t asked how they’re handling things or about who they are or what they want except by Solas. The team needs them to fix problems but has little interest in giving back. The companions are lovely, but I can’t help wishing they were friends with me and not just each other. Or wanted to romance me and not just each other, as they begin to flirt before I can and have more banter comments than the player romance. At least if no one got me I know Davrin got me.

These last comments are the reason it’s 8/10 as a game rather than 10/10 for me - the lore I care about but others won’t. The lack of connection is a genuine issue, along with how unbalanced it is depending on romance. I just feel sad at the lost potential to reflect and gain support from companions.

On a positive note, this is the most fun Dragon Age game I’ve ever played. The gameplay is top notch and combat is so fluid and fun. I felt excited to fight rather than dreading the next battle. Really getting into the roleplay of a slippery rogue

The environments are so gorgeous. Lighting, animation, level design, sound design, all spectacular. I’m bad with maps and yet I never got lost and always managed to find my way around. Secret passages to treasure were just the right length to be satisfying. The puzzles were exactly the right amount of investment for the reward. I never felt frustrated by them but also not disappointed by the simple ones, there was a good balance. I had a lot of fun uncovering them. So many areas looked like a perfect representation of thedosian places I had never been to and wanted to visit.

Every time I was in the necropolis it felt like coming home. Maybe it’s because the lore was the most similar to past lore, maybe it’s just because it was cool, but I loved being there. I loved the wisps most of all. And I loved Emmrich’s journey and sympathetic exploration of death. The Hossberg Wetlands were also a standout area. Absolutely horrible (complimentary). Evka and Antoine my beloveds and the environment storytelling was fantastic. Like a hideous combination of the Fallow Mire and Chateau d’Onterre and I was so there for it. Davrin’s story broke my last flight loving heart.

The set pieces and narrative flow in the major battles and main story missions is really wonderful. I also did enjoy the faction reactivity, even if there were few chances to explore the intersectionality of being a particular lineage with a particular faction. I’ll make our House proud Viago!

It’s such a fun game that when I play I can almost forget all of the things that I dislike until a codex or cameo punches me in the face. It has such great gameplay that I can finally discuss DA with my partner who refused to play the other games in the series. But what a monkey’s paw. I know from their previous work that they can foster nuance. From the art book that their instincts were there from the beginning. But somewhere after multiple reboots they made a world with contradiction and complexity removed, more reactive to fan discourse than to telling a complex narrative.

It kills me because if the nuance and subjectivity and moral complexity had been there, I would have considered this the best Dragon Age game ever made. It will always be the most fun. But it is legitimately more fun for people who don’t know lore than people who do, and that is soul-crushing. It's the most beautiful Thedas has ever been, and the least like Thedas it has ever felt.

I’ve played it once. I already started a replay. I enjoy the game a lot when I am playing it, overall. But I miss Thedas, and I miss that the “world worth saving” that I cared for is a slate wiped clean and this new world is a more simplistic place.

[pratically-imperfect]

Caitlyn is so messy and complex of a character, and while her original goals were paved in good intentions, she's ultimately turned her back on it unwittingly. The grief, trauma, stress, and the weight of her name and new posts, it's all adding up. All while everyone around her on the topside slowly turns their backs to her previous convictions. So, in her anger - her agonizing RAGE - she turned on the last person who could keep her accountable, who held her beliefs. Because not only did Vi endorse taking the shot, make it clear, but she ended up preventing her from it. And Caitlyn...I 100% believe SHE believed she wouldn't have missed. But I also believe that, had she taken it, she would have. She lost what she's shooting for. It would be naive to think that, in a chaotic situation such as that, that she could thread the needle...and at what cost? If they weren't killed, they would have been deeply traumatized. Continuing a cycle.

All while at home, surrounded by people who bow to her, she's constantly having her original morals tested and questioned. And now she's got Ambessa in her ear, weaponizing all the vulnerabilities she's accumulated from: Being made to confront her privilege and prejudice, to being kidnapped, made a hostage, watched Jinx explode the tower and killed her mom, a terrorist attack at a MEMORIAL from the people she'd been wanting to help (turning this from Jinx being the solo scapegoat of her past prejudice, to being an act of the people of Zaun as well), and so many little things that just add up.

She lashes out, at the height of her distress - not necessarily in malice as that implies a true intent, this felt feral to me (and that FLASH of regret at the end of that stare, before she turns...) - because frankly she isn't thinking anymore. She isn't rational, and her actions are reactional. Her emotions are raw, overwhelming, and she feels like she's alone, and also like she needs to protect herself.

This of course doesn't excuse her behaviour. She said regrettably discriminatory things about the people of Zaun in her quest for blame and revenge. Of course she chose to rise to Ambessa's 'request.' And she rejected Vi both verbally and physically after making some very harmful, manipulative sounding statements to her. Caitlyn IS in the wrong. However what this does is explain things. Humans are complex and the world is PAVED in shades of grey. Our personalities change over time, we act differently with different people. The nicest people can still do bad things, just because their perspective makes it seem good. The evilest of people can, much in the same way, do good things but have bad ulterior motives.

There is so much going on than just this, or just that. There is more to this conversation than being apologetic only to Vi OR Caitlyn. They're both victims, they've both done bad, and they have both made mistakes, and neither of them are wholly GOOD or BAD.

We can laugh and say we support woman's wrongs, and continue to love and support our favourite girls, but it's important to look at the wider context, and that there's more to it all.

I think it's this messy complexity that makes us love them, and it's also what will make the payoff so much more sweet when the time comes...if it comes. I can hope.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

im STUDYINGGGG AGAIN hahaha and i decided to read ⬇️

You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?

so u see… there’s this bird and this bee…

You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.

why r u lowkey funny 😭 girly is going through it but she can’t cry bc she needs to keep her makeup intact is hilarious to me

Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.

WHAT IF RUTHIE KNOWS

That would be so him, though.

oh my god

You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.

like i said she’s FUNNNYYYY

But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this… this thing inside you.

okokokok i love that she's hypocritical because all her motives makes sense and the sense of flow is so perfectly-paced it makes me wanna scream

They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.

Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.Rafe. 

a GUN

You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.

THIS BITCH

“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”

im actually shaking

He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.

this motion is so him too

He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her. 

WHAT IF SHE TOLD HIM TO APOLOGIZE

He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.

i would be literally committing mass murders rn

You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head. 

literally get a grip

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”

bro idolizes his dad wayyy too much

You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”

i love her so much

Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”

there would be nothing but god stopping me from murdering this man

“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”

she’s so bitchy i love her

He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."

TOPPER HAND ME A GLOCK

"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"

she's actually so real

"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."

TELL HIM GIRLY POP

He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.

he likes SOFIA makes me wanna scream

"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”

i read this as pope heyward and went LEAVE MY MAN POPE OUT OF THIS

Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.

i wish she DID OHMYGOD

💌 — the visceral anger i feel for rafe right now makes me wanna register for a gun. also also, their fight that cuts so deep because they know each other so well is done to PERFECTION and not only that, i LOVE LOVE LOVE how you can follow reader's train of thoughts—so even if she's hypocritical in her response, it makes perfect sense. lastly, rafe has the fucking audacity i would've slapped him so hard he would've saw his dad ok done

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - THREE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x Sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, of abortion, health risks & death.

Two lines.

Two bold, definitive lines.

You blinked. Once, twice, but it didn’t change. It wasn’t going away. 

Two lines, clear as fucking day, staring back at you like they were taunting you.

The universe was laughing right in your face. You felt everything plummet to the very bottom of the earth—the room, the floor, your stomach—it all just plummeted, like you’d been pushed off a cliff with no warning.

The test fell from your grip, clattering onto the marble countertop, but you didn’t care. You backed away from it like it was something radioactive, something dangerous that could destroy you if you got too close. But it already had, hadn’t it?

You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?

You knew how, obviously. You weren’t that dumb. All you could see in your head was Rafe’s stupid fucking face. His name alone made you want to punch something, preferably his balls. 

You were pregnant? With his kid? You were so careful with your life, with your image. 

You could feel the resentment rise in your throat again, the taste of acid making you want to scream. He didn’t get to do this to you. He couldn’t ruin your life twice, fuck you up this bad and then just leave. You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. You hated it. And worse, you hated yourself.

There you were, stuck with this. Alone with a baby you didn’t even want to think about. The thought of it growing inside you—of carrying some piece of him, some reminder of everything he put you through these past two months—it was loathsome. He wasn’t part of this, not anymore. And you weren’t that girl—you didn’t want to be. You weren’t the one who begged for him to care, who waited around for him to come to his senses, who made excuses.

You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.

You weren’t going to ruin all that hard work over him again. No way.

You pressed a tissue to your eyes—not to cry, but to catch the stray moisture that threatened to ruin your eyeliner—and took a deep breath. You smoothed your dress, and made sure everything was in place. 

You didn’t have time to figure it out, or wallow, or throw shit around. You straightened your back, lifted your chin, and forced yourself to feel nothing. 

Not the panic, not the nausea, not the rage. Nothing. 

You could push it all down, shove it into that deep hellish place in your guts where you put everything else. Later, maybe you’d have to let it out.  

Just as you were spiraling deeper into the pit, there was a knock on the door. Loud. It made you jump, pulling you out of your head for just a second.

“Hey!” It was Lily, her voice bright, oblivious. “It’s time. We need you out there. You’ve got like three minutes.”

Right. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.

You stepped out of the room, every movement rehearsed, the smile expertly placed on your lips. You were a master at this—faking it, pretending like nothing in the world could touch you.  Not after seeing those two fucking lines.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked through the hallway, down the steps, and into the ballroom. It was filled with kooks being kooks. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake friendships. You weren’t even listening to a word anyone said to you.

“Hi, darling, you look stunning as always,” someone said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled, said thank you, maybe even added a you too, but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your body knew exactly what to do at these things. 

Pretend like you gave a shit.

“Your dad would be so proud,” another woman gushed, and you wanted to throw up. You laughed. 

If he knew what was happening. Pregnant? By a man who didn’t put a ring on your finger?

And there they were, of course—Topper, Kelce and Ruthie, standing in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots. Well, Topper grinning like an idiot.

Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and you reached out instinctively, but the waiter, somehow, just missed you. The tray floated right past, and before you could even realize the fact that you didn’t have a drink in your hand, her eyes were on you.

“Oh, you're not drinking?” she asked, voice dripping with fake concern. Her eyes flickered, like she knew something, and you swear to god, your eyelid twitched.

“Not yet,” you replied with the same faux smile.

Ruthie just kept watching you with those too-knowing eyes, like she was looking for a crack, some little tell. Because she always did.

You had to be so careful around her.

One wrong move, one second, and she’d be all over it, spreading it around the entire town before you even had a chance to breathe.

Your cousin, completely oblivious, was babbling with Kelce about something—probably golf, or the new boat his dad bought, or some other thing you couldn’t care less about. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but you were mentally still in the bathroom, staring at those two lines.

“So, you invited Rafe?” Kelce said it like it was nothing, like bringing up your ex-boyfriend was the most casual thing in the world.

“What the actual fuck did you just say?” You all but growled out, enough to make him choke on his champagne.

He looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t just mention the one person you’d rather hurl off a bridge at the moment. “Yeah, Rafe. He’s on the list, right?”

Your whole body went rigid. You blinked, trying to keep your face from giving anything away, but inside? You were dying. Ruthie’s eyebrows shot up—oh great, now you had her attention too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Kelce, of course, had the nerve to chuckle. 

If Rafe had spoken to them about being taken off the guest list, you’d lose it. The insolence of him mentioning your name—like he still had any right to talk about you? He should’ve buried the memory of you right along with whatever feelings he claimed to have had.

But then, if he hadn’t said a word about it to his best friends—that meant something worse. That meant he didn’t care. He was over it. Over you. 

He hadn’t even bothered to tell them that he wasn’t coming to the gala because he wasn’t thinking about it. Or about you. 

You hated either possibility. 

Kelce like the asshole he was, "I thought you two were—"

"Don't." You cut him off so fast, so hard, he had to take a step back. 

You wanted to grab Top by his clueless shoulders and demand answers. Did Rafe care? Was he coming tonight? You didn’t like any option—every scenario made you want to get on a plane to the other side of the world.  If he was planning to show up despite being cut from the list…Shit, what would you even do? You could feel the headache starting already. 

That would be so him, though.

The arrogance. The entitlement, ignoring boundaries because he never thought the rules applied to him.

Ruthie, of course, was still watching you like a hawk. Her eyes darted between you and Topper, and you could practically feel her mind working, trying to piece together whatever she thought she was seeing. She loved this. She lived for other people’s drama, and you knew she’d sniff out anything that didn’t look flawless.

You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.

"Ow, Jesus—what the hell?!" he yelped, stumbling to keep up with you in his shiny loafers as you all but hauled him into the nearest corner of the ballroom, out of sight, but still within earshot of the crowd. 

You didn’t care. Let someone see. Let them all see.

You turned to him, barely letting go of his ear, your nails tapping impatiently against your crossed arms. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and maybe you had.

“Spill it.”

He was still rubbing his ear. “What are you talking about?”

“Rafe,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “Is he coming tonight? And don’t you dare lie to me, Top.”

He gulped. Actually gulped. You swore you could see the gears turning in that pretty, empty head of his, trying to figure out if he could weasel his way out of this.

“I— I don’t know, okay?” Topper stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t talked to him today, but I figured… I mean, he always comes to these things, so I assumed—"

That meant Rafe didn’t tell him. That your little stunt hadn’t phased him in the slightest. 

“You assumed?” You leaned in closer, eyes burning holes into his skull. “After everything, you thought it was a good idea to just assume he’d show up and not even bother telling me?”

“I can’t put him on a leash!” His voice rose defensively, eyes wide like he was the one under attack. And yeah, maybe he was. Maybe you’d gone full psycho mode. Rafe always turned you into this—this furious, spiraling, out-of-control version of yourself.

Your cousin was just collateral damage.

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe someone should.”  You said it slowly like you were explaining something to a child. “Do you even know what it’s like?” you hissed, leaning in closer, your voice dropping , “To sit here, wondering if he’s gonna show up like some ticking time bomb?”

Topper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He didn’t know shit about what you were going through. How could he? He wasn’t the one with a whole life-changing secret burning a hole in his brain, wondering if the father of the child growing inside him was going to ruin everything—again.

“I—I didn’t think it was that serious,” Topper stammered, hands flying up in surrender. “I mean, he’s always been a dick, but—”

You remember the first thing he texted you after weeks of radio silence.

“No,” you interrupted, “He’s more than just a dick. He’s—” You stopped yourself before you said too much. God, you were on the edge, and you needed to rein it in. 

Topper, still looking like a kicked puppy, shifted on his feet. 

“Look, I’ll text him. I’ll ask if he’s coming or not, okay?” He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. You watched him, arms crossed, tapping your foot against the marble floor like your life depended on it.  If you saw his face—his stupid, beautiful, infuriating face—you didn’t know what you’d do. 

Punch him? Scream? Run? The thought of him being here, so close, when you hadn’t even processed what was happening to you…

“Okay, he says—” He paused, squinting at his screen, “he’s not coming.”

The relief. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shoulders sagging for just a second before you caught yourself. He’s not coming.

But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this... this thing inside you.

“See?” Topper said, holding up his phone like it was some peace offering. “He’s not coming. Crisis averted.” He gave you this awkward, nervous smile, like he thought you might hit him again.

You forced a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny.

“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” you said through gritted teeth simultaneously smoothing your dress, and pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “Thanks, Top. Really. You’re a real lifesaver.”

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not, but you didn’t care. The moment was over. You’d survived. 

You rolled your eyes as you turned away heading back toward your original group. Of course, Ruthie was still standing there her arms crossed, that smug little smirk on her face. She’d been watching the whole thing, no doubt about it. 

You could feel her nosy ass dissecting every single move you made. 

“He’s not here yet,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing just enough to piss you off. “Weird, right? Maybe he’s busy with Sofia.”

Of course, she brought up that fucking name. 

She was sniffing out blood in the water, as if she wasn’t just another Sarah Cameron knock-off. You could already picture it—the headlines, the whispers spreading through the audience, everyone talking about you. The legacy who ruined her own gala.

Kelce snorted, not even bothering to hide his amusement, because of course he thought this was all a joke. He never got it. None of them did.

You wished, for just a second, that you weren’t born into this pristine, high-society life. You felt so smothered by these expectations. If you were anyone else, if you weren’t some debutante raised on champagne and etiquette, you’d have punched her right there. You’d have knocked her straight to the floor and wiped that pretentious smile off her face with blood in front of every stuck-up rich asshole in the room. 

“I didn’t realize we were talking about her,” you said, voice like sugar, even though you knew Ruthie could sense the underlying warning in it,“But thanks, Ruthie, for always keeping me updated on things that don’t concern you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down yet.

“Just making conversation. I mean, it is weird that he hasn’t shown up yet, right? Considering how close you two used to be. I’m sure it’s nothing, though.”

Kelce, that asshole, leaned in, "Come on, don't act like you’re over it." His eyes glanced down to your hand. "You’re shaking."

You were. You hadn’t even noticed.

But instead of acknowledging it, you shot him a look that could've killed. "Fuck off, Kelce."

They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.

“Uh-huh,” Ruthie said, not buying a word of it. Her eyes flicked between you and Topper, and you knew what she was doing. She was fishing. “You sure about that? You were giving him a look.”

You glanced at your cousin, who was still rubbing his ear like a toddler. “Just sorting out some... logistics for the gala,” you said, voice saccharine, but it felt like chewing on glass. “It’s nothing. Really.”

She arched a brow, her lips curling up in a knowing grin. She knew something was off. She always did. “Right,” she said slowly, drawing the word out like she was savoring it. “Because for a second there, it looked like you were about to explode.”

She was monitoring you so closely, you could feel it crawling up your skin.

“You know,” she sighed, like she cared. “If something’s going on you can tell me. I won’t say a word.”

That was rich. Ruthie, keeping a secret? You’d sooner trust a thief with your jewelry.  “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said, not keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. “But trust me, there’s nothing to tell.”

Ruthie’s pursed her lips, annoyed that she hadn’t managed to dig anything up, “Are you—”

You were two seconds away from shoving her into the nearest fountain. But instead, you took a deep breath, “You should worry less about me,” you advised her, “and more about that atrocious dress you’re wearing.”

The smile fell off her face so fast, it was glorious.

You didn’t wait for her to recover. You turned on your heel, and grabbed Topper by the arm.

As soon as you were far enough away, he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna deck her.”

You grinned, but there was no warmth in it. “I still might.”

He sighed, “She’s still my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, downgrading seems like a thing for you boys.”

Like a guardian angel sent from above, Lily appeared, stepping between you two with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey,” she interrupted, glancing between you, “What was that about?”

You could see the caution in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—Lily knew things between you and Rafe had been rocky, and she’d probably been sensing the tension the entire night. But right now, she was doing her best to defuse the earlier situation before it got any worse.

“Nothin’, just Ruthie being herself,” You dismissed, as you grabbed onto her forearm, “Let’s go.”

Lily blinked, startled by your urgency, but she didn’t argue. “Yeah, we should head backstage, the speech is coming up.”

“Bye Top. Stay the fuck away from the chocolate fountain.”

You could hear him whine in the back, “I did that shit once!”

Lily pulled you along through the ballroom, her arm linked with yours, quickening her pace to keep up with you as you nearly bolted toward the back of the venue. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you bit out, though your voice didn’t even convince you. “I’m fine. I just need to get this speech over with.”

“Uh-huh,” She replied, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it for now. “You got it, don’t worry.”

Finally, you made it to the side entrance that led backstage. The thick drapes and low lighting created a shield, giving you a small moment of privacy before the world demanded your attention again. 

Lily stood next to you, gently touching your arm, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can stall, or—”

“I have to,” you stopped her, rubbing a hand over your face, “I can’t—” You didn’t finish your sentence because you didn’t know how to say it. You had no choice.

Lily’s fingers squeezed your arm a little tighter. “Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. “But I’m here if you need me.”

You forced a smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.

You appreciated her being here, really, but she was blissfully unaware of the pregnancy test in the trash can. 

Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your posture, straightened your dress, and ran a hand through your hair, reminding yourself that you’d been here before. You’d stood on that stage so many times.

This wasn’t new. You just had to get through it. 

One more speech. One more night. You glanced at Lily, gave her a quick nod, and stepped through the final curtain. Back into the spotlight. Back into the role you’d perfected so well—put together, poised, untouchable.

The low murmur of the gathering hummed in your ears, growing louder with every second. You weren’t ready. You were never going to be ready.

You just needed to remember how to breathe.

The speech was printed and sitting in your hands, it felt like dead weight. You hadn’t even read through it since you’d finished it hours ago, and now, the thought of standing in front of all those people, pretending to have it together—it felt impossible.

Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Rafe. 

He said he wasn’t coming. Topper said he wasn’t coming. But there he was, standing there, watching you just like he always had. 

You hadn’t even meant to look. You didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps it was muscle memory, always searching for him. He was standing in the same spot he usually took. Like nothing had changed.

As if he hadn’t ripped you apart.

You tried to focus, but your heart was racing, thundering in your ears. 

How dare he? How fucking dare he? Instantly you were back there, that messy, intoxicating space you swore you’d never return to. The one where he controlled the air you breathed. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing a crisp navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly, hair buzzed again. 

You should’ve guessed he’d find a way back here, even after everything. 

“Are you ready?” Lily whispered beside you, her voice pulling you back from the brink of a breakdown. 

“Yeah.”

Your heart raced as you forced yourself to look back at Rafe.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending to look interested. He just stood there, his eyes locked on you, unreadable, unfathomable.

He was still watching you. It felt like could see through your polished exterior. He probably did. He knew you better than anyone else. You wondered what he saw—the confident girl who had always pulled off these events with ease or the terrified woman who was about to pass out from the pressure.

Then, he’s lips lifted slightly. That infuriating, devil-may-care almost there smirk that had made your heart stutter long before everything went to hell. It reminded you of nights spent tangled in sheets, whispers pressed against your skin under the cover of darkness, moments that felt like they belonged in a dream.

You wanted to throw the speech away and storm off the stage, leaving this whole night behind.

Instead, you cleared your throat and gripped the edges of the podium, the cool wood bringing you back to the world. 

The words were on the paper in front of you, but you didn’t need to look at them. You knew the speech by heart every year.  You’d written it yourself, after all—crafted it with care, knowing exactly what people needed to hear to make their checks bigger, to keep your father’s legacy alive.

It was just a matter of saying it without breaking.

A deep breath, and then you began.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight.”

Your voice sounded better than what you felt, and you leaned into that, letting it carry you through the first few lines.

“We gather here every year for the same reason—to celebrate the incredible work this foundation does, and to honor the legacy of those who came before us. This foundation isn’t just a charity; it’s a tribute. A way to remember those we’ve lost and to carry their dreams forward. It’s about giving back to a community that gave so much to us.”

You paused, just for a moment, glancing down at the speech in your hands, feeling the overwhelming crush of what you’re about to say next.

“For me, this has always been personal.” Your voice softened as you continued, “Most of you are aware I lost my family a few years ago. My father started this foundation. His vision was always to make sure that no one was left behind, that we take care of our own. My mother helped build it. And my sister…” You hesitated, remembering how faultless she’d been, “She was always the heart of it.”

The room was utterly still now, everyone listening intently. 

“Tonight, as I stand here, I can’t help but think about how proud they would be of what we’ve accomplished. At least, I hope they’d be proud.”

You allowed yourself a small, bittersweet smile.

“My dad would’ve been in his element, making sure everything was spotless. And my mom, well, she’d probably tell me that the curtains were horrid and needed to be replaced immediately.”

The crowd gave a light laugh, the tension in the room dissipating just a little. You smiled, a real one this time, for the first time in weeks, picturing your mother in her no-nonsense way, criticizing every decoration like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I miss them every day,” you added, “And I’m certain I’m not the only one in this room who’s experienced that kind of loss. It changes you. But it also reminds you to live in a way that makes them proud. And that’s what tonight is about, continuing their work, continuing their legacy, and making sure we do right by them.”

Your grip on the podium loosened, and you looked up, making eye contact with the audience. 

“So, to everyone here tonight—thank you. Thank you for believing in this cause. Thank you for your generosity, your support, and your kindness. And thank you for helping me keep their memory alive.”

With that, you stepped back from the podium, the applause swelling around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.

It was over. You did it.

Automatically, your eyes flickered up toward the back corner, the spot where Rafe was standing. You never needed to look before; you’d always just known he’d be there. It was his silent promise to you since you were sixteen. Every gala, every speech—no matter what happened between the two of you—he was there.

But he wasn’t there anymore. The space was empty.  

This was what you wanted, you didn’t need him anymore. You were going to get through this on your own. It was the first time he wasn’t there to catch you like he’d always been.

You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.

That stupid fucking warmth. 

His hand found your elbow as you and every nerve in your body screamed bloody murder. The applause was still buzzing in your ears, cameras flashing—none of it registered.

All you saw was him.

Three seconds. That was how close you were to snapping. Who the fuck let him in?

You yanked your arm away, the touch burning your skin like it was staining you. You didn’t say a word—just turned and headed straight for the back exit.

Behind you, you heard his footsteps.

Of course, he never knew when to stop, when to let you breathe.

“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”

You were already halfway down the hall, pulling off your earrings as you stormed toward your suite.

The fucking sheer audacity of this man. You couldn’t even process it—how he could stand there, with his fake-ass calm tone, chasing after you like you were the one being unreasonable.

You threw open the door to the suite you got ready in, the one that was supposed to be your sanctuary for the night and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind you; you knew he was going to follow you in any way.

He was relentless like that.

You tossed the earrings onto the vanity and glanced up to see he was right behind you now, lingering in the doorway, as if unsure of how much further he could push before you exploded.

He looked at you like he was the victim in all this.

“Can you at least listen to me for a second?” It sounded like he was forcing himself to stay calm.

But that bite was so Rafe.

You spun around, your breath coming out harsh.

“Listen to you? Listen to you? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already pulling off your heels, the sharp tug at the straps doing nothing to calm your frustration.

He stood there, his eyes on you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for more than a second without feeling the betrayal flooding your chest.

Rafe was rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way he did when he was frustrated.  “I came here because I didn’t want to leave things like that. I thought we could be civil—”

“Civil?” You nearly laughed, “You seriously think you can walk in here and be civil after everything?”

His eyes narrowed just a fraction. He moved on his feet, stepping further into the room, and you saw it—the way he rolled his shoulders like he was already preparing himself for a fight.  “I came to apologize.”

He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.

Your hands stopped mid-motion, your necklace halfway off. You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Apologize for what, exactly?" 

“For calling you dramatic.” He exhaled like he was doing something noble by saying it. As if he was doing you a favor. “For that text. I was drunk, didn’t mean it.”

He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her. 

You stared at him, completely floored. He was serious, he thought this was some kind of peace offering. The fact that he thought an apology for that would fix anything? Insane.

“You think this is about that?” You cackled, chucking one shoe to the side, not caring where it landed, and the other followed right after. “Oh my god, Rafe, you are so fucking clueless.”

His expression changed then, brows furrowed, “I’m trying to make things right,” he mutters. “I don’t want you out of my life, okay?”

You threw the necklace somewhere on the ground, your patience gone. “You were the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can just fix things because you finally feel bad about it.”

He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”

Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.

“I don’t want to be your friend!” You growled in his face, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his chest,  “I’d rather set myself on fire than be your friend, so you can take that chance and shove it up your ass.”

His hand came up to run along his head again, and you saw the way his fingers curled into his scalp like he was trying not to give in to his impulsive thoughts. His breathing was heavier now, too, chest rising and falling quickly.  

“Why are you being so difficult?” he snapped, and there it was—the familiar, accusatory edge in his voice. “After what you said about my dad—”

The reason.

The thing that broke you two this time, the thing he’d been holding over your head. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t let go of.

You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head. 

“You’re gonna bring that up right now?” Your voice was so quiet it nearly scared you. “After all the shit you’ve put me through, that’s what you’re mad about?”

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”

But Sofia did, right? 

That was fucking hilarious. She didn’t grow up listening to Ward’s bullshit. Didn’t see the kind of things he’d say or did to his oldest child. 

Of course, she would take his side. She didn’t know better. 

You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”

For a moment, the air went deadly still between you. You could sense his hurt, the way it sneaked between every bitter word.

Then, he did it—the thing you knew he would, that thing that made your blood boil. 

Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”

Your whole body went borderline rigid, like a door, locked in place.

He was standing there, offering you friendship like a pity prize, calling you jealous when you were standing there broken, trying not to fall apart because of him.

“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”

He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."

Ouch. But you could do worse. 

"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"

"At least she doesn’t care about any of this," he snapped, gesturing to the glittering gala that surrounded you both. "She’s not obsessed with keeping up appearances.”

A cold laugh escaped your lips. He must’ve forgotten to look in the mirror today.

"God, you’re so delusional. Do you think I wanted any of this?” You shot him a look that could cut through steel. "I’m not the one faking it. You are. You are still so desperate for Daddy’s approval that you can’t even see what a fucking mess you are."

Rafe's hands flexed at his sides, his fingers twitching. His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he was trying to stay calm.”

"I’m not afraid of who I am," His lips barely moved as he spoke, rolling his shoulders back again, standing to his full height. "You spend so much time trying to be perfect, you don’t even know who you are anymore."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, like a predator sizing you up, his eyes locked on yours. You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath as he tried to keep his composure.

You took a step closer, your chest brushing against his, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. His gaze flicked downward, scanning your face.

"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."

He clenched his jaw again, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a sharp breath through his nose, staring you down with a look that was all Rafe—volatile, unreadable, on the edge of breaking.

Right then and there, Lily burst into the room, her wide eyes taking in the scene like a bomb had just gone off.

"Okay! What is going on in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp but layered with concern. “I could hear you two in the hallway. If something happened, this is not the place to deal with it.”

 “You wanna know what happened, Lily?” you started, almost laughing with disbelief. “This motherfucker started seeing someone behind my back. Two months—two fucking months—with no real closure, no answers. And he’s off fucking some pogue.”

“It’s not like that,” He scoffed, pointing a finger in your direction as he took a few steps back, "Don't drag Sofia into this.”

His posture screamed defensiveness, and all you could think was how much you hated the way he said her name. It made you want to throw up, it felt like someone was taking a rusty nail and dragging it down your spine. 

He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.

"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”

You were the one who had been there through all his bullshit, you were the one who held him together when everything in his life was falling apart. Now, suddenly, she was the one he spoke about softly. Like she mattered.

It was insulting. 

“Guys!”

Lily stepped between you both, throwing her hands up as if she were separating two wild animals about to rip each other apart.

“Please, please calm down. Rafe, I think you should leave. Now."

He looked like he wanted to say more, you knew he had a million things screaming at him beneath the surface, but for once, he stayed silent. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was there, or maybe he finally realized you weren’t going to bite into his bullshit excuses and provocations.

Whatever it was, he took a step back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, storming past Lily and out of the room.

You could hear the distant sound of the door slamming as he left.

The moment he was gone, you felt your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your pulse racing.

Lily turned to you; her face full of concern. She reached out and grabbed your shoulders gently.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soothing, “Breathe. Just breathe.”

You pressed a hand to your chest, your breath hitching. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his kid, and this was what you got in return.

No peace. No calm. 

Your chest tightened, your vision blurring.  

“Hey, hey,” She cooed again, her hands on your arms, grounding you. “You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Just breathe, okay?”

You couldn’t believe you’d let it get this far—couldn’t believe you were even in this situation.

There was no way you were having his kid.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even have to think about it. The decision had been made the second he’d defended her and insulted you like you were sidewalk littering.

Tomorrow, you’d take care of it. You’d book the appointment and that would be that. Clean break, no more ties to Rafe Cameron, no more staying in that fucked up twisted cycle with him.

“I really think you need to sit down and breathe for a second. You’re scaring me sweetheart, and honestly, this isn’t good for you.”

Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.

Your designer dress clung to you in all the wrong ways, as if even the fabric could understand the order going changes in your body. 

“Whoever let him in, I want them fired.”

You spat suddenly gaining momentary strength to ruin lives. It wasn’t just a demand; it was an execution order. 

The quiet threat of it was more terrifying than your screaming would have been. 

Tomorrow, you’d make sure this nightmare ended before it could begin. 

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

no catboys, got that... what about the possibility of... frogboys?

[Referencing this post!]

PRINCE NAVEEN MY BELOVEDDDDDad… He’s so laidback and charming in the film!! I loved his character arc, how he starts off as a playboy but still respects when Tiana turns him down (consent king), how he practices proposing to Tiana and gets all flustered doing it, how he’s willing to put aside his own feelings for Tiana and her father’s dream, how he gets motivated to work hard and build a life with her, how he stares after her when she smiles, how he learns how to mince… Aaaaaah, what a cutie!! 😭

I think Hopper from Ever After High is cute too, but in a very different way from Naveen. Hopper is more a clumsy and awkward kind of cute; it’s funny how he’s articulate in frog form but so tongue-tied in his human form. Very interesting interpretation of the fairy tale he’s inspired by! And look at how squimshy his frog form is:

Frog boys 🥰

Unfortunately, I feel like I don’t see many of them 😔 Cat boys definitely dominate the market…

P.S. Don’t look at the tags of my original post 💕