#because there is. a lot to unpack. for her before she allows herself to give into her feelings

[nerdygaymormon]

Gather Conference 2025 - my highlights

Before I even got to Utah, met an amazing person while on a layover at DFW airport, Raquelle Roulette (google her). We truly would be in awe at all the heroes and amazing folks around us if we only knew their stories

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I arrived in Utah on Thursday, June 26th, and my friend @loveerran picked me up and drove us to a restaurant where we had lunch with Peggy Fletcher Stack, senior religion writer for The Salt Lake Tribune.

I found Peggy to be open and authentic. She was herself and wanted us to be ourselves. It felt like we connected on several levels. She shared with us her thoughts about the many changes that President Nelson has made to the LDS Church, the importance of community, and which fairly well-known person she refuses to interview or quote for stories because they are a liar. We talked about things in our life, like her cats, MAGA family members, and that being Primary pianist was my favorite church calling.

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After lunch, Erran and I traveled to Provo where I unpacked and took a nap. When I woke up, I washed my face and was rudely reminded that water comes out of the faucet very cold in Utah, not lukewarm like in Florida. I was wide awake. 🥶

That evening was the Gather Conference's Meet & Greet which was held in a Provo city park. It was great to connect with friends who were there and to meet some new friends. 

I was introduced to Cynthia and Paul Winward and exclaimed that I know who they are, and Paul replied, "you mean you know who she is." Nope, I know him, too. He's treasurer for Affirmation, and I'd seen him give financial updates over the past two years when I served on the Affirmation Board or as VP. I told him he looks more handsome in person. I think he blushed a little and his wife said everyone looks better in person compared to the little box you see them in on Zoom.

Cynthia is a co-host of the podcast At Last She Said It. I am a regular listener, and told her that I love it's women's voices, so several times I've had a comment I thought about sending in, but I didn't want to be a man stepping into that space. Then I shared how I loved a voicemail on their most recent episode by a woman who had served as her ward's compassionate service leader, and if a man requested a meal for his family, she'd contact his ministering brother. If the ministering brother's wife asked what sort of meal is needed, she would answer, "whatever HE can make," and a LOT of pancakes got delivered. I LOVE THAT.

I shared how when I became a stake executive secretary, I convinced the stake presidency to stop asking the stake relief society presidency to make meals, we're capable men. I also told Cynthia about making a meal for 30+ people when an apostle came to my stake center, and afterwards he came to the kitchen and expressed surprise that it was all men cleaning up, to which I replied that the Handbook doesn't list cooking or cleaning as duties of any of the sisters' callings. Cynthia laughed, high-fived me, and said while they don't have male guests they do sometimes play voicemail comments from men and encouraged me to send that message to them.

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On Friday, June 27th, the Gather Conference began with an invocation from Elder Steven E. Snow, an emeritus Seventy, who recently went public as an ally because he loves his gay granddaughters.

Dr. Jennifer Finlayson Fife gave the keynote address and spoke about developing self-trust and to value ourselves and that this is necessary to create healthy relationships. Being true to ourselves, being authentic, allows us to be authentic in our relationships. If we have to outsource our self worth to others, that leads to problematic relationships, for example we could become subservient to someone in order to get their praise because we need them in order to feel good about ourselves and to obtain love. The focus becomes keeping the other person happy, which means we avoid bringing up truthful things to avoid conflict. It can feel like you are disappearing.

When we need the validation of others, it's hard to live authentically because we have to hide parts of ourselves or things that bother us in order to not risk upsetting others. We need companionship and love, and many people compromise in order to find it. However, when you are true to yourself, you're able to be loved and known by others, and they will love you for who you are and not who you pretend to be.

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J. Kirk Richards is an artist who creates beautiful images around the idea that all are alike unto God, including LGBTQ individuals. He spoke about early church history when dancing was completely forbidden and even referred to by church leaders as a “mortal sin!” He then shared other quotes and stories about how this changed radically in a span of only seventeen years. He quoted Brigham Young who proclaimed dancing to be a “divine ritual.” Imagine that ….. in the short span of 17 years from MORTAL SIN to DIVINE RITUAL.

When our understanding changes, things which once seemed dangerous and sinful can actually be uplifting and righteous.

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Jessica Angus, a trans woman, and Ben Higinbotham, a trans-masc nonbinary individual, each shared they felt divinely inspired to transition. Don't they worry they might have misunderstood and they'll face the wrath of God? Ben answered, "God isn't throwing lightning bolts at us, He's throwing love."

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Friday afternoon were Breakout Sessions based on identity. I went to the Gender Identity session where Hannah Bryan, who performs drag under the name Charity Heels, showed that trans and nonbinary people have existed in many societies. She pointed out that we call some people nonbinary because our society has decided there's just two genders and not everyone fits this binary, but many other cultures acknowledged multiple genders, they actually have words for people whose gender is neither male nor female.

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@loveerran spoke of her experience at learning she's intersex. She only learned this a few years ago because her parents had kept this from her. Erran followed this up by explaining that the LDS Church needs to expand its understanding of gender. For example, the church has decided that your spirit's sex matches that of your mortal body, and you're either male or female. While for most people their outward genitals, their inner reproductive organs, their hormones, and their chromosomes, all line up, that isn't true for everyone. Do we consider someone to have a male spirit if they have XY chromosomes but are missing the SRY gene, which its absence causes the individual to have feminine characteristics? What of the Guevedoces where some males are born looking like girls and grow a penis at puberty?

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Friday night I was among the last at the conference center and was on hand when someone asked Charlie Bird to do a backflip. He nailed it!

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On Saturday, June 28th, the Gather Conference began with an invocation offered by Reverend Mother Dani Lee of St. Mary's Episcopal Church in Provo, Utah.

Bishop Karen P. Oliveto was interviewed at the conference. In 2015, she became the first openly lesbian bishop in The United Methodist Church. She was assigned the Western Jurisdiction which includes Utah, Idaho, Wyoming and Montana.

When she'd visit congregations in rural towns, she often was the first openly-queer person these church goers had ever met. She describes this as a "ministry of vomit," because people would express all the pain, trauma, questions, doubts, and misgivings they have about queer people. She was there to catch the vomit, to show that no matter what is thrown at her, she is there to love and help people, she will be there through their worst and best moments. Eventually the saying went around, "If you want to keep hating on the bishop, don't meet her."

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Carol Lynn Pearson spoke of her husband who was gay and they divorced but he remained in her life. When he was dying of AIDS, he moved back in and she took care of him. The next year, in 1986, she wrote a memoir about the experience, Goodbye, I Love You, which led to a national book tour including appearances on programs such as Good Morning America. She has been a pioneer in bringing the attention of Latter-day Saints to the plight of queer members.

Carol Lynn describes LGBTQ+ members as modern-day pioneers, some acting as scouts out front who see what is ahead and urging the rest of the church to shift and move faster. She said we haven't yet arrived to a place where we can say, "This is the place," so we carry on, we don't have to settle for things as they are now.

She hopes people leaving this conference have a “more immediate understanding of the hugeness of this situation. Everybody in our church has a gay son or a lesbian cousin or a neighbor that we love. All of us are affected by this. And so today, we are listening with different ears than we did before.”

“We are ready. People down here at the bottom in the church are ready for more progress, and more rapid progress toward the goal of a kind of equality.”

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Alisha Anderson, who is lesbian, gave my favorite address of the conference. She spoke of planting mustard seeds and what she learned from that experience. “I have learned to listen to plants. I can’t say to a wilting plant, ‘I gave you the right amount of water.’ No, it’s not about what I think it needs, but what it knows it needs. And if I listen, I can give it what it requires to grow.”

Seeds and plants know what they need. Queer people know what they need and should be listened to rather than instructed to be like straight people.

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Travis Steward is a former mission president and worked for decades at the missionary training center. He is gay and in a mixed-orientation marriage. He said that if others are disappointed in us, that's their problem, not ours. They created the expectation. Being ourselves is not a problem or a wrong, it's up to them to change their expectations.

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Saturday afternoon's breakout sessions covered a variety of topics. I actually skipped the first round of breakouts to speak with a friend about their journey of coming out and how his family has reacted and what has changed.

I attended the breakout session "Steps, Detours, and Discoveries: Plotting Your Church Path" which was a panel of four queer Mormons and was moderated by Tom Christofferson. I thought it interesting that initially they spoke about good leaders they'd had but then each shared about problematic leaders, definitely highlighting the idea of "leadership roulette."

Meghan Decker shared that when she was suicidal because of her mixed-orientation marriage, her bishop advised her that "God would rather have you get divorced than dead." But in response to a question about possibly getting her temple recommend revoked for dating women, she replied, "Their game, their rules." She can't control him and his decisions. Her relationship with Christ isn't determined by what her bishop does. She'd like him to be a spiritual advisor and mentor, but not to tell her to go against personal revelation.

Another woman who is a senior at BYU shared that her bishop took away her recommend when she said that she intends to date women in the future (presumably after she graduates and isn't beholden to the BYU Honor Code). I was shocked. This was a preemptive cancellation, she hadn't yet done anything to warrant her recommend be removed from her, she was still living her life in compliance.

Tom Christofferson ended the session with his rules for revelation:

Don't tell the Lord what He must say

Don't tell the Lord what He can't say

Keep to yourself what He does say

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Saturday evening was a concert by The Lower Lights. I loved it! They are so good! They give a folk rock interpretation of Christian songs. If they're in your area, do yourself a favor and check them out.

Pastor Stan Mitchell ended the conference with a wonderful prayer. I thought it beautiful there were several leaders of other Christian traditions invited to participate in this conference. We have much to learn from each other.

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For me, the best part of this conference is people. I got to meet friends of mine and hug them and catch up. I met some folks I've only known online from Tumblr's queerstake, and I met some people for the very first time.

There's the wife of a YSA bishop from SLC who came, she is a delight and whoever is in her ward is fortunate. I later learned she's the mom of someone from queerstake.

There's the mom from Arkansas who told me that her bishop & stake president won't allow a Gathering, so Scott Mena and I, who both do Gatherings in Florida, said she can simply have friends over each month, and that doesn't need to be endorsed by the church. We talked about ways to promote her Gathering and described how the different Florida Gatherings do things very differently from each other as a way to give her ideas of what she may want to do.

There's the dad who came because his child recently came out, and at the Meet & Greet he told me he was wearing the gayest shirt he owned, and I nodded, then he said it's because the logo is in colors. I replied, "Oh, it's not the logo that makes this shirt gay," as I waived my hand across his front, "it's purple with artistic accents." The next day he found me at conference and says he told his wife what I said about his shirt and they laughed, but he doesn't have anymore "gay" shirts for the rest of the conference. "I have something for you, a pin that looks like a CTR ring shield but the background in rainbow colors. Now you can signal you're an ally no matter what you wear." He immediately pinned it onto his bag.

There's the lesbian couple who are facing leadership roulette. They attended the Saturday breakout panel moderated by Tom Christofferson, and it was as though it was put together specifically for them.

There was the friend who pointed out someone he thinks is attractive but is too nervous to go over and meet. I said it's time to head towards the next session and I walked us right over to the person he pointed out and said I really liked his hair, it's so curly. He smiled and said thanks, and I introduced myself, "oh, and this is my friend." He complimented my friend's curly hair. It was fun to be someone's wingman.

I don't like standing alone in the hallways during breaks, it makes me feel anxious, so at those times if I saw someone else alone and they smiled at me, I took that as an opening, that perhaps they were also wanting to connect with someone while at the conference. That strategy worked pretty well.

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Rather than go to the after party, which sounds like fun with karaoke and board games, Erran and I went back to the air bnb we were staying in. Erran baked a cake and I played funny TikTok videos and we laughed and laughed, almost to the point of wheezing. It was such a good end to the day

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On Sunday, Erran and I attended the local ward. Sunday School was great, the man who taught the lesson is a counselor in the bishopric and works as a therapist. My main takeaways are that we should consider what things bring us closer to Christ, there are many things which don't. He also shared that two of the most successful things to do when someone is suicidal is to look them in they eyes, and physical touch, because these reinforce that someone cares, someone loves them. It may seem simple, but its among the most effective things to prevent a suicide.

Afterwards, Erran and I spoke with him outside in the summer sun, or rather, Erran spoke and I was there for moral support. Erran shared a bit about her story. He listened without interrupting then made some affirming comments. He had been facing Erran so I couldn't tell how he was receiving her story and was relieved at his positive response.

Erran explained how what he taught in Sunday School was in line with her experience of accepting her transness. Erran asked if he'd be interested in being a presenter to LGBTQIA+ LDS people at a future conference?

Before he could answer, a woman came out the doors and walked over to Erran to greet her and say she remembers Erran from last year's Affirmation Conference. She had several pins, such as "you're safe with me" and her church bag had a picture of the folding chairs with one of the seats in rainbow.

As she's speaking to Erran, I feel prompted to give her the CTR ring I had on my pinky finger. I commented that I liked her bag, and handed over the ring. She got emotional and showed us her finger, which had a dent around the base of it where her old CTR ring had been. She had an MRI last week and needed to remove the ring, but because she hadn't taken it off for 10 years and her fingers had gotten larger, they had to cut it off. So now she has a new CTR ring, but one with a rainbow background. It fit her finger perfectly.

I don't know how the bishopric counselor interpreted this, but it seemed to me like God sending a confirmation that Erran is out here doing good things and this man should accept the invitation to speak to queer members.

He then asked a few questions about what does she think he should say, is it just a repeat of his lesson or does she want something different. She clarified that she will recommend him to be a speaker and would like to remain in touch and communicate more about the topics in his lesson.

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I have some extended family who live in Utah and they usually will host dinner for me and some of my queer LDS friends. It's become my favorite part of trips out to Utah for conferences. After dinner, we all hang out.

One of my friends who comes to dinner is an expert on Pioneer Day and he told us that the Salt Lake airport was dedicated on Pioneer Day and at that time they had the few surviving Mormon pioneers take a plane ride over Emigration Canyon. A journey that had taken them 3 days in their covered wagons was completed in 9 minutes.

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After dinner, we had an invitation from Bree & Kit Borrowman to come to their home to meet Pastor Stan Mitchell. My group actually showed up late. We arrived as others were departing. The pastor stayed, and so did 3 others: the parents of a child who had recently come out, and a trans man. It was a very small group. It was a good conversation. I admire him and his ministry.

I thanked him for his prayer to close the Gather Conference, it was very meaningful to me. He commented that public prayers like that are difficult because it's easy to say things for show, to try to be impressive. What the person offering the prayer should do is channel what those in the room want said, to act as the mouthpiece for the group. We agreed that he expressed the hopes and yearnings in our hearts.

Erran confessed that she did not know who he was until earlier this year when I shared a post which quotes him saying, "It's not the elders, it's not the leaders, not the apostles, not the pastors, not the bishops, not the clerics. It's the mothers who are the prophetic voice. Everyone else is playing with plastic chips and monopoly money. The mothers are playing with every damn dime they have. They are playing with flesh in the game and that makes them not compromised weaklings, but the veritable prophets of this movement." He found his original post and read the entire passage to us. Very moving.

He spoke of meeting Liz Dyer who started Mama Bears in the hopes she could make the world kinder, safer, and a more loving place for all LGBTQ+ people. He met with her and his heart was opened.

Since then, he has found the mothers of LGBTQIA+ kids, who call themselves Mama Dragons and Mama Bears, to be his co-laborers in 'gospel work.' They are not professional clerics, they are like Mary to Jesus, they are the witnesses of the suffering, they are there when the other disciples run away.

He shared that as we learn more about the character of God, how we interpret the words on the page will shift. But also, the things we experience also causes change. He spoke of how slavery is permitted in the Bible and that for centuries Christians defended slavery. However, the huge number of slaves in the Western hemisphere caused many to see the extreme suffering that slavery caused. They saw mothers crying and pleading as they were separated from their children at slave auctions. They saw the brute violence casually perpetrated on slaves. They saw how cruelty transformed the character of the slave owners. They may believe the Bible, but they felt dissonance from what it said with how they felt about the consequences of its support of slavery. This caused churches to reevaluate what the Biblical words mean and decide that opposing slavery is the position that is most Christlike.

Same thing is happening with queer people and Christians. As they hear our stories and learn of the pain and shame we inherited from church, as they attend funerals for those who died by suicide, as their children come out and don't fit into their faith community, people are saying there's a dissonance between what my church teaches and how the consequences feel to me. Surely this isn't what God wants happening to his beloved children.

Of all the Christian traditions, the LDS Church is best setup to make changes towards progress due to our belief in ongoing revelation. Those at the top who sit in the red chairs need to get on the ball because the suffering is ongoing and bodies are piling up. The sooner they act, the less pain and hurt will be incurred. 

However, change like this usually happens in the pews, it comes from the ground up, not from the top down. The change is made at the grassroots level by families who have a child who comes out, by people who are unhappy at what is being taught at church about queer people because they have a gay uncle they love. They see the hurt and trauma first hand, and their visceral reaction against it leads them to want and advocate for change.

He shared a story about when he visited Haiti and he saw a young girl drinking water in the street which had sewage in it. He went to stop her but a woman stopped him and asked what he was doing? Well, he’s trying to stop her from taking in these toxins which will make her sick. Yes, but she needs water to survive. She doesn’t have access to clean, life-giving water, so she has to make due with this polluted water. Similarly, for queer people what gives us spiritual life also contains toxins which make us sick.

He thanked Bree & Kit for opening their home. He said that he's been sharing their story since before he ever met them, that the idea of a teacher transitioning and being supported by the school administration, parents, and students at a school in Utah was hopeful.

Afterwards, he spoke with me for a few minutes. I thanked him for all his efforts, that change needs people like him, that there aren't enough queer people to get the change we need. I asked why a cis, straight man with no queer kids would be so invested in ministering to queer people and fighting for our inclusion and equality in Christianity? He answered that once his heart changed, he took up the cause of love and inclusion of queer people in church.

He will be in Florida later this year and invited me to meet with him over dinner. He also said he'd invite me to attend church with him while he's in Florida, but knows that may be complicated for me.

I will gladly worship with that man and look forward to meeting with him later this year.

[overangel]

"Hiiiii, thanks for asking! This is such a fun question. So! Let's get the depressing stuff out of the way. You/Starling in the past didn't buy new clothes and if she did, it was very basic dark colored tees and jeans she wore for years. She had like only 2 pairs of dingy sneakers. Why was that? She was extremely depressed, too anxious to draw any attention to herself—because any attention from the batfam was always negative attention(will get into how Dick was particularly cruel in the last life)—and she lacked confidence while believing nothing nice suited her and she didn't have the aura to pull it off. She/you are growing up in the age of tiktok where any style is possible, but she restrained herself. She had a credit card from Bruce but was too afraid to lose it. So, that's how she died. Never allowing herself to feel pretty. Never expressing herself. Another injustice you did yourself.

This time, things are so different! Before you get funds, Alfred is styling you in smart, refined, yet chic fits. From rich royal blue and crimson, to soft and dainty powder blue, and dusty rose, he's coordinating ladylike quiet money. No labels but anyone with eyes can see the quality in the fabric, stitching, and cuts. Sheer stockings, Mary Jane's, and sensible heels, you're his lady and he's so proud of you.

YOU USE THAT BLACK CARD. you're no label hoe, you seek quality and genuine style and artistry. You wear whatever you want. Let people see your mood without you having to speak. You're finding treasures at the salvation army, discovering vintage pieces long believed lost, if you buy designer, you're hiding the label. No free promo lol

You're quiet but you're confidence is loud"

There's so much to unpack that i prefer to ask here.

1)I really want to know who was the most cruel to Starling in her past live now (if this is not spoiler ofc🫣).And who did she dislike the most ?

2)Is bruce ever threatened her to take back the credit card?

3)And about the "No free promo lol" make me wonder what was Starling's job in her past and actual life? Will she get famous in her civilian life now?

Ayeeee, honeybunch! Thanks so much for reaching out cause I love to discuss~

Let's get into it!

𝟙 Who was the most cruel? Whew, now that's a good question, and depends on what's the most triggering to you. I'll def have to add appropriate TWs to the chapter where Starling remembers how they treated her in the past because I'm sure like myself, it may hit a little close to home for some readers and I know we're all in it for a the angst, but your mental health takes priority.

I won't be too descriptive, but here's how each of the main perpetrators were terrible in their own way:

Dick: Bodyshaming. Starling goes through a lot of physical changes as a result of poor mental health and declining quality of life. Dick was the type to give you "advice" with a shit-eating grin like he was doing you a favor.

Tim: Mental abuse. He downplayed, questioned, and insulted your intelligence any chance he got. It came second to breathing for him, and you sadly started to believe him.

Damian: Violence, intimidation, public humiliation, and he was the only one to ever insult your mother. As your blood, he really knew how to hit you where it hurt and he aimed to make sure you didn't get back up.

Stephanie: Mean girl behavior and psychological abuse. The type to publicly embarrass you and call you out on it "innocently" like you were being overly sensitive. Any reaction you had was unnecessary and you were being too dramatic. "She didn't mean it like that. Stop being so sensitive!"

Cassandra: Looking right through you. No, she never insulted you. She treated you like you didn't exist, and maybe that hurt just as much sometimes.

Barbara: You weren't around her much, but she breezed right by you when you were. You don't know what anyone told her about you, but she already formed a negative opinion of you and there was nothing you could do to change it.

Bruce: Everything about him.

((Jason's only flaw was staying away from you. He was avoiding you because he didn't think he could do anything good for someone like you who had gone through so much. Duke honestly tried to talk to you and form something like a friendship but others kept getting in the way))

𝟚 Regarding the black card, I meant to type "use" instead of "lose," my bad 😂 Starling was afraid to use the card because she was worried about what Bruce would think of her. What if the purchases looked useless or embarrassing? What if he judged her for being wasteful and frivolous? And then, she stupidly thought that if she never bothered him for money he might come to like her for who she was and not think she wanted anything from him ((but parents are supposed to provide for their children. He wasn't a father in any sense.))

She died without touching a single penny of that card in 10 years. What a waste. Now, she'll use it before she uses her own money. "Fuck you, pay me" and all that

𝟛 Regarding previous jobs, Starling was always artistically inclined and had a giving heart even back then. She had a bleeding heart she wore on her sleeve (at her peril) so something involving helping others would've been a good career path. It could range from physical therapy, early childhood development, social services, pediatrics, medicine, teaching, caregiving, photography, etc, etc, etc. You were capable of doing whatever you wanted. You just didn't let yourself. You couldn't let yourself.

The only time she tried to work ended in disaster with her manager and coworkers secretly recording and posting her to their socials. She barely got through a day before the store she worked was swarmed with paparazzi and mean-spirited people. Bruce put an immediate stop to her ever trying to work ever again and didn't see her capable enough to have any position at his company so she just became a NEET.

In this life, the possibilities are limitless.

[elieowlsclownery]

Clara's Importance to Iruma and Unresolved Worries

Since I'm stuck waiting for the next chapter with clenched teeth lets dull the pain by discussing another reason to appreciate Clara, from Iruma's side!

There's obvious reasons why Iruma loves Clara if you pay attention to their dynamic even slightly:

Clara's one of the first who gave Iruma unconditional love and warmth

He's able to play and have fun with her in a way he was never able to as a child

Clara is cute and adorable and deserves the world

But here's a reason I think doesn't get a lot of attention:

Clara's the first person Iruma ever said no to.

Before meeting Clara Iruma didn't have any self-determination, aside from not being found out as a human and eaten. He wasn't all that comfortable with being treated like a master by Azz, but he still let Azz follow him around. He was especially uncomfortable with Grandpa Sully spoiling him and showing him off, but he couldn't bring himself to refuse and let gramps spoil him. He allowed the demons around him to do whatever not because he liked what they did, but because he was too scared to refuse and/or he's been conditioned by his parents to accept anything that's given to him.

Then he meets Clara. At first he treats her like he did with the other demons he's met, letting her do whatever and accept whatever...then something happens. He sees that Clara's so-called "friends" use her as a free snack machine. And he sees the snacks and toys Clara gives him and Azz. And something clicks with him.

He likes Clara. He wants to play with Clara. And he doesn't want Clara to feel like he's only playing because of the free juice. For the first time, we see him actually want something. And it's to play with Clara.

Before he was even trying to discover what it means to have ambition, before he realized he could have ambition, he found something he wanted and he actively sought it out. His first desire.

And this spread to how he treated Az. He realized he didn't want to just let Azz follow him passively, he wanted to be friends with both Clara and Az, to be an active participant in their lives. And it's the first time he started believing in the demon world as a home rather than a hostile place.

It might seem small compared to his later growth, but I think the latest chapter shows that this first desire is still a fundamental part of him. Because just like when he told Clara he didn't need her abilities play with him his first immediate instinct is to rush to Clara's side to comfort her. Not just for her sake but for his. He can't stand the idea that Clara could feel hurt in any way. He takes his soulmates' pain as his own without any filter.

He senses Clara's hurt for just a millisecond and he just books it!

But this immediate instinct to comfort her isn't enough, because this comfort can't erase her worries. Just like it never erased her worries back when they first met and Iruma said he genuinely wanted to play with her.

It wasn't enough when Iruma was trapped in an illusion during the Harvest Festival Arc. He knows his family and friends wouldn't say such things, he knows it's an illusion. But that wasn't enough to break it. Just like Clara knows her soulmates love her, it's not enough.

Iruma was able to literally pierce through his fears thanks to his master's words, and was able to save Clara with that perfect shot as well. Him stopping Clara's illusion was powerful, but ultimately it was to show his growth, his determination to stay in this world and be an archer. Clara didn't have the means to fight that illusion herself and even after breaking down, crying and holding the Iruma who'd never ask for juice, she still hid that worry away afterwards and never really unpacked it.

So how can Clara's worries be resolved? Well...

I don't know what Az is going to say, I'm sure it'll be impactful and the bond between them will grow even stronger, but as Iruma proved love alone will not cure anxiety. Az and Iruma both have masters that they can discuss and resolve their worries with (not to mention Iruma has Opera who just a few chapters ago he had a heart to heart with)

Clara needs to have that sort of access as well. Hopefully by maybe opening up about her worries to her soulmates post-wicked phase Clara is able to do just that with her master Raim. Or at the very least she could talk to her mom, but given how Wicked Clara is I think having a talk with Raim would be better...I think Raim reeeeeeally needs to know what happened to her Baby-chan.

Also hoping Balam has a talk with Az about the fact that he left a dangerous treat that he personally made unattended. I mean Clara's still the one who chose to go through his pockets but still the struggles of being responsible and all.

By the way this isn't to call Iruma selfish or bad in any way. Everything Iruma's done so far is out of love, and his part is important. After all if Iruma wasn't so lovable Clara wouldn't have nearly as many pages in the happy album. It's important to realize that the happy album, with all her hope and excitement and love for her soulmates is just as real and powerful as the sad album with her worries and fear and loneliness.

Still, I'm a worried Iruma'll blame himself for not being the one to save Clara this time, which neither of his soulmates want. Maybe that'll trigger his next leg in personal growth...Or maybe not! Maybe everything will turn out fine and Clara passes the midterm and they get to go on that trip to the Muddy-Buddy Swamp. She's been trying to go to a swamp with her friends for forever!

(This is from the sukima for volume 20 after the musical festival arc. It's chapter 177.5 on mangadex)

[flurry-of-beaus-pop-pop]

When Agatha tells Rio that she never wants to see her again if she delivers Billy to her at the end of the road and Rio says "okay", there's a moment where Agatha leans back and looks genuinely surprised, like she didn't believe that Rio would agree and there's just so much to unpack there.

There is definitely an element of Agatha and Rio's relationship that is broken because of Rio's direct involvement as Death, because she is the one that took Nicholas from Agatha, and so Rio's presence in Agatha's life is a direct reminder of that... that no matter how much Agatha may want to just lose herself in Rio's embrace (because she definitely does, their moment where they actually give themselves a moment to just hold each other is proof of that), she isn't ready to face what happened with Nicholas and so she isn't ready to face Rio (the original dialogue for this scene captures this point so much better than what they changed it to), because facing Rio, at this point, means facing Nicholas.

But there's also an element of this interaction, this moment where Agatha pushes and Rio concedes, and Agatha looks surprised, that brings out another element of their relationship... that ever since Nicholas, one of the only things that has been constant for Agatha... is Rio.

When it comes to grief, especially unexpected grief or grief that occurs after losing someone far before their time, it's not at all uncommon to turn our anger towards the people that are still there, towards the people that will always be there for us, no matter what, because we often feel like we can't be mad at the person we lost (even though it's a completely valid response to death). The issue is, if we can't direct that anger at what is actually making us angry, we have to direct it somewhere, hence putting it on those we know won't leave.

This, in my opinion, is what happened with Agatha and Rio... Agatha isn't ready to face the fact that, as she said, sometimes, boys just die. She needs there to be a reason, she needs to place that anger on someone, and the only other person that was there was Rio, and so she puts that anger on Rio, she pushes and snaps and no matter what, Rio comes back, she's always there.

Until this moment. Once again, Agatha didn't know how to handle what it was she was feeling, couldn't handle the reminders of Nicholas that Rio brought, and so she lashed out, said things she knew would hurt Rio, expecting that, once again, Rio would take it, and still be there.

Except this time, as often happens in circumstances like these, Rio reached her breaking point, and agreed. If Agatha delivered Billy, she would respect Agatha's wishes and leave her alone.

And this shocked Agatha, scared her even, because while Rio was a painful reminder of Nicholas, she was also a beautiful reminder of love and happiness and safety and vulnerability, a reminder of how it felt by Agatha to finally be understood by someone, to have someone that just got it... and she had always taken it for granted that when she was ready, Rio would be there... except now she pushed too far, pushed the one person she had left, away.

This makes her decision to kiss Rio as a means of taking Rio's powers make a lot more sense... yes, there was an element of Agatha's decision to take Rio's powers that was a calculated risk as far as becoming a ghost is concerned, but Agatha didn't have to kiss Rio for that to happen.

Agatha kissed Rio in that moment because she knew, no matter what happened... whether she walked away, whether she became a ghost, or whether she died, that Rio was going to respect those wishes and wouldn't be there anymore, and so Agatha gave herself one last moment of vulnerability, one last moment to give in to everything she feels for Rio, to allow herself that final moment to just give in... in that final moment, Agatha chose to put the anger and the grief aside, and chose to spend one last moment enveloped by love.

[thebluestbluewords]

Any random descendants headcanons you want to share?

I know I've been holding on to this ask for ages, but fear not!! I have FINISHED MOVING MOSTLY (I just have a couple boxes of craft supplies left to unpack, and tbh I mostly keep those in storage bins for organization anyway so it's fineeee) AND I HAVE SOME ENERGY ONCE AGAIN. 

Because I've been hearing a lot lately about my irl coworker's kid and her battle with school (she's been suspended twice in the last two weeks! And one of those weeks was spring break!) here's some VK school headcanons. 

As all of us book fans know, Carlos and Evie love school. They're TRAGIC, HOPELESS NERDS. 

Building on this, I think that Evie loves school so much that she's chronically overscheduling herself.  She's the girl who takes a full course load plus a bonus class just for fun, plus four or five extracurriculars.....plus of course she's doing the most for her required Auradon Prep volunteer hours, and on top of that she's running her fashion empire. She's the girl who has an absolutely ruthless schedule for herself, and she's never without her planner. During AP finals week, she's the one who schedules herself a five-minute cry break in the library, and then when her alarm goes off, she stops crying and gets back to work. She's spent so long being castle-schooled that she is not giving up a single moment now that she can experience school to the fullest. 

As a Very Important Headcanon Note, I do believe that Auradon Prep has a volunteer hours requirement for all students. They've got to have....something like 35 hours of volunteer work each year, which is about an hour a week if we're following a standard US school schedule. 

Lonnie organizes fun runs for charity as her volunteer hours. She's got a couple other international students on board too, and they work together on it. One of the school faculty supervises them and signs off on the hours. She organized one for the benefit of the isle, not that she's going to admit as much to the VKs. 

Evie refuses to participate in any Isle-based charity drives. She's on the junior kingdom advisory council, and that's enough time spent thinking about home the isle for her. Her school-sanctioned volunteer work is with an organization that helps bring fun STEM experiments into the public elementary schools. Of course she's going to design experiments that let the kids have a little bit of explosives. As a treat. The little girls deserve to know that they can look cute and cause chaos! 

Mal failed the required safety training, and isn't allowed to go into the elementary school with Evie. Apparently if you put curse words in every single one of your write-in answers, the school decides that you're not worthy of being a role model for the youth. 

She's getting her volunteer hours by working in the museum archives. It's mostly scanning boring, dusty old books into a digital archive. Totally dull stuff. She's only doing it because it keeps her away from the innocent public for her volunteer hours, and she's definitely not reading the books in the museum archive, which are mostly there because the kingdom did a very badly organized roundup of magical books when the magic ban first went into place, and nobody ever organized the piles of random spell books that have been collecting dust in the archive since. Totally not reading them. 

On an unrelated note, Mal's been sent to in-school suspension once every three weeks (the maximum amount that she can get away with before the consequences start stacking up) for accidental fire-related property destruction. On the plus side, she knows how to cast fireball now! 

Jay and Carlos are both doing their volunteer work through the on-campus junior sports teams. They're teaching adorable elementary students how to hit balls and not trip over their own feet. Jay is thriving. He loves kids and being adored. He's got a pack of under-ten kids who think he's the coolest thing ever. He gets to toss them around like boneless little sacks of meat, and they love him for it. He's doing great. Carlos is.....surviving. He's got two surly little pre-goth kids who are only in sports because their parents made them sign up, and they think he's the coolest student coach because he threatens them with physical violence when they don't participate. 

Middle school kids aren't required to do volunteer work, but Dizzy and Celia are HYPE to get student volunteer access to the AP chemistry labs once they're old enough to volunteer as lab cleaners. 

Squeaky and Squirmy are planning on running away to sea before they get to high school. They have not told anyone about this plan. 

Uma's pirates will eventually get a singular year of high school education each, during which they will cause at least thirteen new behavioral rules to be added to the AP handbook. 

Gil volunteers to crochet blankets for the Auradon City hospital, and accidentally finds his calling as a baby whisperer. Tiny babies love him. He's huge and warm and used to handling kids from all his half-siblings that keep popping up on the isle. What he lacks in critical thinking skills he makes up for in literally just picking up a kid and making them fall asleep. 

Uma creates a new volunteer position where she sits in the Isle Affairs office and bullies the adult coordinators relentlessly. She has one of them signing off on her volunteer paperwork, and another one of them paying her under the table for her consulting services. 

Harry is exempt from volunteer work, due to the unmitigated violence that lives in his soul. Also, he's like twenty, and refuses to do even a singular year of high school. He spends the time that Uma's choosing to waste in high school auditing college-level psychology classes so that he can learn better ways of psychologically tormenting their rivals. 

[regularhill]

hi. welcome to my mary shepherd-sunderland post.

what will follow is who i think she is as a character, what she means to the narrative of sh2, and why people should think and talk about her more bcs me and the 4 other mary fans are dying out here.

DISCLAIMER BEFORE WE BEGIN: a lot of this post will be enmeshed with interpretation and headcanon that draws from me analyzing the text of sh2. this is My Post about mary. stormy mary post. please understand this.

the foundation of mary's character is an exceptionally strong one, and for someone like me, i enjoy making inferences about her person before the illness, during the illness, and near the end. the personality she has in sh2 is flexible enough to allow what i imagine her to have been like in my mind's eye.

i do not want this post to be read as the Definitive Canonical Interpretation of mary. i am just doing my best to inform my analysis of mary with the text as well as building from that set foundation given to us as the audience.

with that out of the way, please enjoy.

PART ONE: MARY AS A CONCEPT

what exists of mary is filtered through the lens of memory before the cumulative letter in the respective endings we receive it. throughout sh2, her status and state of being is re-contextualized as her husband moves closer and closer to the truth of the matter. she is an individual wrapped in idealistic fantasy that is slowly and surely stripped away the longer the game goes along, and the more we actualize her as the person she once was.

this element of conceptualization and fantasy is a through-line in sh2's narrative. mary is everywhere james looks in his version of the town. she's in the rot and rust on the walls, she's in the monsters he fights and runs from, she's in the places he goes, her face and voice is maria's, and she even has some of her memories and personality traits. it is truly understated how much mary just... IS in sh2, in spite of her not being physically present.

there's also this dichotomy i've been thinking about in the inability for mary and james to exist outside of one another, thematically speaking. for fundamentally being two different people, they are inextricably tied to one another in a really unfortunate and tragic way. james grafts himself to mary's memory before her sickness and slowly begins to resent the woman she's become out of anything but her own volition, and mary grafts herself to james because... she has to.

she's sick, she's dying, she's largely bedridden and in constant pain. she cannot rely on herself anymore; she has to rely on the people around her to take care of her, and when she inevitably goes home to live out whatever time she has left... it's james she has to rely on. and while i think james finds immense comfort and pleasure in living in the past they had while refuting the present, mary is thoroughly imbedded in the present and resents the past by means of something that she can no longer have. neither of them can, but i've always interpreted mary to be a very pragmatic and proactive individual.

she discusses in her letter how pathetic and ugly she feels, how she waits in her cocoon of pain and loneliness that's been grafted onto her unwillingly while she waits for james to visit her, and it's clear to me that she is the kind of individual that puts so much emphasis on being a useful and beautiful woman. that is what gives her worth as a human being within the society in which she lives (late 80s usa in my opinion). canonically, she is a housewife, and while that certainly coheres, i'm of the belief that she was a woman who worked outside the home as well, but also someone who did not do enough unpacking to really get away from gendered roles expected of her.

i really do believe that she feels she failed james spectacularly as a partner, but also as a wife; therein, as a person in his life. both of them dealt with their own baggage regarding gendered expectations, but mary in particular's is incredibly potent and crushing if you actualize her as someone who, in turn, wanted to be the perfect wife to james. kind, patient, nurturing, submissive, etc.

of course, as we all know, the perfect wife/woman/whatever you want it to be, is an unattainable concept, because how can anybody human like mary exist within such ridiculous, reductive parameters?

PART TWO: MARY AS A PERSON

so, in that case, who was mary, then? who was she, if not this idealized vision of a wife long lost?

as i've alluded to before, i envision her as a very pragmatic and proactive person; in the video tape of her, she seems very playful and outgoing, but also contemplative, appreciative, and straightforward. i've always seen her as a very different person from james in regards to how she navigates through life.

she's comparatively much more outward and readily emotional, but seems to retain a level of quiet interiority that meshes very well with james' very inward attitude. a very typical "bubbly wife and stoic husband" sort of situation on the surface, but i've always thought that mary greatly appreciated having james as an emotional anchor of sorts; somebody who can soothe the more keyed-up aspects of her personality, given how quiet and easygoing he is.

given how she mentions how angry she was all the time at the advent of learning of her incumbent death, i view her as somebody who really does not like being out of control of her own life. she has an idea of how she wants things to be and she wants them done the way she has already since chosen. (do not interrupt her routines. she will get very irritated.) she's very particular, and i think she's had to learn how not to just take the reigns from somebody else if she perceives them to be going about something "incorrectly" because this particular flaw has led to some arguments/falling-outs with loved ones in the past.

in that particular vein, holy fuck is this woman a fixer. she needs to fix everything she possibly can. the sink's busted? don't worry, she's had a lifetime of fixing shitty plumbing in her childhood home because nobody else bothered. need a couple more bucks for gas? don't worry, she always keeps a few extra dollars on her because she knows what it's like to be a few short and not have anyone else to turn to that you can trust.

you've been deeply traumatized and scarred by your adverse childhood experiences and it's left you with maladaptive and dysfunctional coping mechanisms? don't worry, she'll be there for you, in sickness and in health.

to me, mary's the kind of person that likes seeing the fruits of her labor, too. she takes great pride in being as self-sufficient at she has been, and does very much enjoy sharing that with others as much as she can. genuinely, i think she's very giving and compassionate, but jesus, when it came to james when he was struggling (before she got sick), it certainly got a bit dire. using your wife for free emotional labor is one thing, but when that wife welcomes it for a while because she has a pervasive desire to fix everything, including you? yeah.

also, of course, mary felt a pertinent obligation to doing such, being The Wife and all, but she's also a human person and got exhausted dealing with the amount of baggage her husband had, and their relationship got pretty rocky because of james' unwillingness to seek professional help (stemming from trauma with the laughable us-healthcare system) and mary's unwillingness to recant over and over again what she has in her toolbox.

which is where silent hill comes in. a belated honeymoon of sorts, mary and james take a trip to take their mind off the doom-inspiring monotony that is domestic life, and it's great!

until it isn't.

PART THREE: TERMINAL ILLNESS

so, the nature of mary's illness has never been clearly stated canonically, but we know that it gave her a persistent cough, rendered her bedbound, made her hair fall out, and made lumps grow all over her skin. i'm of the belief that she had hansen's disease, but cancer is also incredibly plausible too.

hansen's disease is one of those things that can lie dormant for years, and it can sometimes take a decade for symptoms to surface, so i don't think it was really a matter of mary catching anything from silent hill, per se. (i do think toluca lake has just the most godawful brain-eating bacteria in it but that's aside the point.) it's definitely a curable disease, but perhaps the strain mary had was a particularly severe variant. point being, however, is that this thing ruined her inside and out.

in the beginning stages, (year 1 or so) i do think she was pretty touchy, emotionally speaking. she tries to keep up appearances as much as she can and is able to, but it's clear that something has shifted for the worst. she's much more somber in the moments of quiet. her contemplative nature turns to brooding. she smiles, still, but her smiles are undoubtedly laced with a wry, bitter sadness.

she's now toiling with thoughts of dying as a way out, too. it'd be easier if they'd just kill me, she laments at one point. simultaneously at the crux of wanting freedom from one's pain in death but terrified of said death as being eternal, too.

it's something you can't ever undo.

now... i'd say a pretty controversial aspect of mary's character during this period of time is whether or not she was abusive towards james during her illness. cases have been made, it's a fairly ambiguous situation as presented in-game, but i think mary's anger that she expressed was quiet, overall. she tried to keep it quiet, at least, and when she did lash out, it was almost always in part due to her newfound level of self-loathing. when she's yelling at james in that hallway, she's yelling at herself more than she is at him.

she's no longer a person, to herself and to others around her that treat her like a dying animal than the woman that she is; the woman that she used to be. i'd be livid if i were her, too!

she also mentions in her letter that she "struck out at everyone she loved most." i have very strong reason to believe that she loved laura, and that unfortunately, she too was caught in the crossfire of mary's mood swings/outbursts. i also think that the guilt mary expresses when we're listening to the hallway conversation is genuine; i don't think her outburst and subsequent apology was a manipulation tactic to make james feel bad.

i think she's genuinely suffering. she doesn't know what to do with these compounding negative feelings. she has nowhere to put them. james comes in at a bad time and becomes the target. after the damage has been done, she realizes this and crumbles immediately. she's hurt james. she needs to do damage control however she can.

of course, none of this is to say that women can't ever be abusive/abusers and we can have conversations about the nuances of that all day, but... it's disquieting to me to see a consistent reading of a terminally ill female character's torment and anger be read as "abusive" to further exonerate the male character's deed of murdering her. like, i think we should consider that for a bit. i think we can hold that mary's behavior was not the best, but james' wasn't, either.

mary waited for him, but he never comes. he stays away, festering in his own grief, mourning her before she's even passed. i see james' aversion to seeing her in large part as a trauma response due to past abuse while growing up; when she shouts at him like that, it drags all of those ugly feelings and memories up.

it's a relationship i see as something that was mutually declining. it was something that was left to die. much like mary was, in a lot of ways.

mary was terrified that james hated her. that she disgusted him with her appearance, that he pitied her for being ill and effectively useless to him. that was something plaintively out of her control, being in the hospital. james could've ripped the bandage off and braved seeing her. he could've talked to her. he could've rekindled what was deteriorating. but he didn't.

again, mary's proactive nature of yearning for james, wanting to see him, wanting to talk to him and talk about them and what to do when the time comes. she wants to figure this out as best she can.

but james doesn't, and he still never comes.

mary poured everything left in her that she could muster in that letter. she profusely apologized for everything, for things that weren't even her fault to begin with. she told james that she loved him in that letter, because she couldn't say it to him to his face any longer. she didn't know if she would have any time left to do such.

but she does. and however long later, he kills her.

mary isn't a perfect victim, nobody that's a victim in sh2 is supposed to be. but she is still an individual that deserves compassion nonetheless, and i think the game does its due diligence in getting that across.

PART FOUR: MARIA

i think have to at least touch upon maria a bit if you're writing a post about mary. i think that's just the way it is.

maria, as we know, is a manifestation created by silent hill as a means to confront/interrogate/"punish" james by emulating mary but with very... choice character design changes.

she's clad in leopard print and a cropped red blouse. she's a dancer at heaven's night. she has bleach blonde hair with the roots peeking in. her face is all done up. she still extroverted, but far more provocative and alluring. she's a fantasy; something unattainable.

but she could be yours in whatever way you want her to be!

maria is utterly fascinating as an interrogation of james' character, but also as a reflection of mary, too. in born from a wish, she expresses her fear of pain and death, of being alone in town with no one else around, while also toiling with suicidal ideation. (sound familiar?) she seeks out companionship in whatever form it takes, and jumps on it when she does find it in ernest.

how much of mary is maria has always been up for debate and forever will be, but i think a lot of mary lives within her. the obvious, being the memories that she has of laura and the video tape left in the lakeview hotel, her hot and cold behavior with james, but also in the existential misery she feels in born from a wish. that desire to die to escape the pain of feeling alone, but also wanting to be with somebody else more than anything, and how death would undoubtedly take that away.

i also think her dyed hair isn't even hers; mary had that haircut and dye job when she first met james at that house party all those years ago.

i think maria's standing as a sentient individual is true, but in the sense that she is the combination of both mary and james' baggage made sentient. she never truly existed for herself, as her own person. she'll always have a little bit of someone else in her, someone she doesn't even really know, and that's... utterly tragic.

i think she realized this too when she points that gun to her head. but she chose james anyways out of that same desire for companionship. maybe she could be his new mary. maybe she could be better than mary. it's truly all so fuck.

PART FIVE: CONCLUSION

mary is the reason why sh2 happens for james. full stop. you cannot have sh2 without mary. there is a foundation laid for you to examine and explore. she is as infinitely fascinating as james is, if not more so. join me.

this post is sprawling and probably a bit confused at times because i wrote it on a whim, but i HOPE that i was able to get across the larger ideas of why i love mary as a character and who she could've been before her illness and death. i didn't touch upon everything i possibly could (mary and laura's relationship deserves its own post, i think), but this post is already long enough. i'll edit it in the future, undoubtedly.

thank you so much for reading all the way. listen to her final letter and cry with me.

[d4yd4iry]

Crush

Pairings: Pham Hanni x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which Pham Hanni found herself crushing on her member’s younger sister.

Note: Y/n is the same age as Danielle.

Genre: Fluff ☁️

You were helping your older sister Minji, move her stuff into the dorm that she will be sharing with her members. “Uh, unnie where do I put these?” You questioned as you were holding a box packed with snacks that your mother packed for Minji and her members.

“Just put it on top of the countertop in the kitchen, I’ll organize it later.”

You nodded and left your older sister’s room, ears blasted with music from your headphones.

You hummed as you made your way to the kitchen, not noticing Hanni who came in a few seconds prior.

You were trying to get the snacks out of the cardboard box but couldn’t because it was sealed shut. “Hmm where are the scissors” you asked yourself before turning around with the intentions of asking your sister but to your surprise, Pham Hanni was standing near the door frame.

“Oh sh-“ you were startled after seeing her. “Uh ,sorry for that! Hello, you must be Hanni unnie, I’m Minji unnie’s younger sister!”

You greeted her but she didn’t respond because Hanni Pham was mesmerized by you.

When she first saw you in the kitchen, she was wondering who the pretty girl in the kitchen was but after you greeted her, she couldn’t help but think how your voice is as pretty as your visuals.

But while she was star struck, you were standing awkwardly while waving your hands in front of her. “Hey?”

“Oh sorry, yeah I’m Hanni! You’re Yn right?” She replied, her face shows that she was clearly embarrassed and turning red as well.

You giggled a bit at how red her face is before giving her a reply. “Yep, that’s me!”

The two of you stood still for a while before you asked her where the scissors are at. “Here you go.” She placed the scissor on top of your palm, getting a thank you from you in return.

You shifted your attention to the box of snacks before using the scissor to unpack it.

Hanni who watched you the entire time decided to step in. “Yn, do you need help putting it away?”

“Yeah, that would be nice, thanks unnie.” You smiled at her as you lift one of your favorite snack out of the box unintentionally, gasping after realizing that it’s a box of cookies and cream pepero. “Oh my god I love these! I can’t believe mom put these in for Minji unnie after banning me from eating them!”

Hanni looked at you in confusion. “Why did your mom ban you from eating them?”

“Mom said that I am too addicted to them, honestly so unreasonable, I only eat 3 packs a day! Don’t you think so too?” You told her about the unfairness of the situation, you looked so serious about it that it made you look cute in her eyes.

She found herself subconsciously agreeing with whatever you’ve been rambling about.

“Right? Totally so unfair! But I guess it’s fine because I do eat them behind her back!”

After you finished rambling, she began to laugh and you soon joined her.

Minji, who have been spending a lot of time on organizing her room, heard the loud laughers from the kitchen, so she decided to investigate.

She found you and Hanni laughing endlessly about who knows what. “What are you guys laughing about?”

You and Hanni turned away from each other to face Minji. You waved your hands around dismissively before replying. “Nothing unnie, it’s nothing.”

She nodded at your answer though knowing that it wasn’t true, but she also didn’t want to ask further. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on the pepero that was in your hands.

“Ynnie, you’re not allowed to eat them anymore, you know that!” She exclaimed before snatching the box from your hand.

“Hey! That’s unfair, please can I at least have one piece?!” You begged like a child asking their mom for candy, Hanni found it adorable.

“No way, you’ll only want it more!” Minji refused before running back to her room, leaving you alone with Hanni again.

“Ugh, she’s so mean.” You sulked as you unpack all the other snacks onto the counter.

Watching you sulk, Hanni felt the need to make your frown go away. “If you want them so bad, we can go to the convenience store, I’ll buy them for you!”

“Really?!” You no longer have a frown on your face as it have been replaced by a large smile.

“Yes!” Seeing you so happy made Hanni feel complete.

“Okay, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” You tugged the sleeve of her hoodie before locking arms with the older girl.

Hanni knew she was down bad when she found herself approving of everything snack you put in the cart.

When you finished putting every snacks you wanted, Hanni brought them to the check out, it came up to 85$. Hanni was crying on the inside but seeing your million dollar smile definitely made her moneys worth.

The two of you made your way back to the dorm, you were eating your ice cream while Hanni was occupied with holding the bag of snacks that she bought you.

You offered to hold it at first but Hanni insisted that since she was older, she’s the one who should hold it.

Minji jaw dropped when she saw the snacks in the bags.

That day, both you and Hanni got scolded by Minji. You for spending all of Hanni’s money, and Hanni for buying the snacks that you weren’t supposed to be eating.

Hanni got scolded more though but she didn’t care because in the end, it was worth it knowing that your happiness came from her.

Author’s note: Hi :) this is my first post and hopefully more to come!

[amillionideas]

How Percy and Audrey Meet (and Why It’s Perfect)

I’ve been thinking about how Percy and Audrey meet, and I honestly think this setup is just so beautiful:

I think they should meet at a café. At that time, they were both quite young, Audrey was in college, and she had a part-time job at an antique store next to the café. Percy’s building was right above the antique shop, so they’d have the perfect chance to see each other coming and going, at the café and through the shop.

One day, Percy decides to visit the antique shop. Audrey, noticing him from the café, opens the conversation with, “Hey, I think I’ve seen you at the café before.” It’s a casual start, and that’s what makes it so natural. They wander over to the shelf of old books, and Percy, coming from a strictly wizarding upbringing, doesn’t recognize any of the Muggle classics (or maybe he does recognise some from his Muggle Studies class). Audrey, eager to share a piece of herself, suggests one book: Alice in Wonderland. It’s a special book to her because her mom gave her a copy when she was young, and it holds a lot of sentimental value. They agree to talk about it the next time they see each other at the café.

And that’s how it starts! Their friendship grows slowly but surely, all centered around the book, a shared interest, and their frequent café encounters.

Let me break down why I think this is such a beautiful setup for their relationship:

1. The Café & Antique Shop Connection:

This shared, neutral space is perfect for the beginning of their relationship. The café already feels like a natural spot for casual interactions. Add in the antique shop, and you have this magical, almost nostalgic atmosphere, where the old books and trinkets make the place feel even more special. It’s a place where they’re not bogged down by the pressures of their larger worlds (wizarding or Muggle), and it’s something that allows them to be themselves. The fact that Percy lives above the antique shop means they’ll continue running into each other in an organic way, it’s casual, not forced, and that’s what makes it feel so real.

2. Audrey’s Job and Background:

Audrey working at the antique shop is such a perfect choice for her character. It gives her an intellectual curiosity and a deep appreciation for history, which ties beautifully into her psychology studies. She’s surrounded by objects that carry history, which reflects her own personal journey of trying to understand the past, just as she helps others unpack their histories. Plus, Alice in Wonderland being a book with such emotional value gives us a glimpse into Audrey’s deeper emotional world. It’s a way for her to share something important with Percy, creating a foundation of trust and connection.

3. The Alice in Wonderland Connection:

This book serves as a wonderful symbol for their relationship. Not only is it a great conversation starter, but it perfectly aligns with the theme of navigating strange, complex worlds. It mirrors Percy’s life in the wizarding world: full of bizarre rules, expectations, and struggles with identity. And for Audrey, who will be learning about magic and love in a world she didn’t know existed, the themes of Alice in Wonderland resonate in a very deep way. It’s whimsical, surreal, and perhaps even a little overwhelming at times, just like both of their lives.

4. Their Friendship Building:

What I love about this is that their first interaction is about shared interests, not instant romantic sparks. They start off by bonding over Alice in Wonderland, and it feels so organic. Their agreement to talk more about the book the next time they see each other shows that they’re both open to a genuine friendship. They want to know each other first, not rush into something romantic. That’s such a great foundation for their relationship: gradual, built on understanding, not chemistry alone.

5. The Gradual Progression:

Their friendship starts off so naturally, and that makes their relationship feel real and grounded. Audrey starts as just the girl who works at the antique shop, and Percy is just the young guy starting to question his place in the world. Over time, though, as they continue meeting at the café and discussing books, they begin to share more personal stories. Audrey talks about her mom who died some years ago after batteling cancer, Percy opens up about his family and his guilt over his rebellion (even if at the beggining he can't tell the whole truth, having to occult the magical aspect of the story). Slowly, they confide in each other about their struggles, which deepens their bond.

This natural evolution is key because it shows how their relationship grows through trust, understanding, and empathy. They start as friends, and through their genuine conversations, they start realizing how much they understand each other and before they know it, they’ve built a meaningful, lasting connection.

This slow burn gives them so much potential for something deeper down the road. As they begin to share more about their lives, they’ll realize how strong that connection is and it’s going to shift into something more. This is a perfect setup for a relationship that feels intimate, grounded, and full of emotional depth.

[icanbeyourgenie]

“ Oh, I'm just... I'm just used to it... I wasn't allow to eat with my siblings, always with my father and his council, so I suppose it became an habit... plus I doubt Nate and Cally would want me to eat with them anyway. ” – Malachai to Yasmeen after she asked why he was eating alone when Nathaniel and Calypso were eating together

Yasmeen had been surprised when she walked into the church to see Malachai there. Not because he didn't belong there - she spent more time in that place with him than alone, lately - but because, when he left after their training session, she assumed it was to go eat with his siblings. So it was even more surprising to see a bit of food packed in the bench next to him. When she asked him why he wasn't eating with the others, she didn't except this answer. She thought this through for a moment, and then decided to sit down.

❝Why wouldn't they want you to eat with them? They practically worship you.❞

❝I can be too serious for them, sometimes. A bit of a mood breaker.❞

Yasmeen didn't think he was a mood breaker. She actually always felt better when she was with him. But she understood what he meant. Calypso and Nathaniel had a very care-free nature. They liked to laugh and make jokes and talk a lot. Malachai wasn't like that. Still, Yasmeen didn't think the two youngest would mind Malachai's presence. But she kept it to herself, judging it wasn't her place to talk for them.

❝Why weren't you allowed to eat with them?❞

He looked away and stayed silent. She didn't push. Privacy was important to her. If he wanted to keep that part for himself, she would accept that.

Instead, he unpacked his food and gave her a fork. She did pause on the fact that he had two forks ready, but blamed it on royal customs and their habit to use way more cutlery than necessary (a side effect of not doing the dishes, she supposed).

She shook her head. ❝Thank you, but I can't eat with you. I can only eat the food from the changeling quarters.❞

❝Why? Because you shouldn't eat luxurious food? It's stupid.❞

❝No, because this food isn't made for humans.❞

He paused a second. ❝Is it true what they say then? That it binds you to the land?❞

❝Not exactly. But it can drive you mad. Making you see whatever they want you to see, and trap you forever. It's different for everyone.❞

❝Better not try your luck then.❞

❝I did.❞

She realized, when she said this, that she had been unfair with Malachai. He had confied in her many times before, but she didn't. Not truly. She was overly cautious and wary, and even when she started warming up to him, she tried not to say too much about her past. He had asked, but she always diverted the questions, so he stopped asking. She loved that clear respect of her privacy. But he was still curious, she could see it in his eyes right now. And somehow, she felt like giving him a part of herself.

❝I was young. Well, kind of. I tried to join the human world, but I was stuck in the enchanted forest and it was a true disorienting maze. I was starving, and I ate a few berries. Worst mistake of my life. My mind wasn't my own anymore. I almost died.❞

❝And what happened.❞

❝I got help.❞ It was the most she could say. Thinking about Viserys and the asylum still hurt.

❝And yet you're still here?❞ And it was probably the part that hurt the most. Nothing mattered in the end. She didn't escape that place.

❝You could come with me.❞ He had a bit of hope in his eyes but his words were unsure. ❝I could claim you, ask for you to be given to me as a gift. You'd come with me under the sea. For a time, just enough so it can be believable. Then I'll set you free.❞

Those words hurt more than she could imagine. This time, she looked away. ❝Don't be ridiculous. Who would look after Calypso?❞ She tried for light-hearted, but she did sound gloomy.

He took her hand. ❝Yasmeen I'm serious. Let me help. I could get you out of here.❞

❝You can't...❞ She squeezed his hand and looked at him. ❝Morgana would never allow you to take me away from her.❞

❝Why?❞ He still looked so hopeful, and it broke her heart. ❝You're a changeling. I mean - I - I mean that... to her... it's just what you are, but-❞

❝Because it'd be too dangerous for her.❞ She cut. She knew what he meant. But it wasn't the problem. She took a breath, readying herself for what she was about to say. ❝Because I'm a valuable asset to her. And because I know too much of her secrets.❞

Malachai stayed still as he processed her words, then his expression changed from hopeful to impassible. She couldn't read him as he withdrawed his hand and sat up straighter. He looked away and she wanted to scream. At the world, at herself for allowing someone to get close to her. For saying those words. But she stayed silent, watching him connect the dots. He was the one who understood, from their very first meeting, that she was a warrior, that she had too much knives hidden on her and that it made sense that she was sent as a guard, as well as a maid. But now, she was basically admitting to be a spy for Morgana.

It looked like an eternity passed when he spoke again, with a placid but distant voice. ❝Yasmeen, are we enemies?❞

She assumed it was his princely voice. The one he used to talk to his generals. He had never use it with here. She took another deep breath. ❝I hope not.❞

❝But she asks you about me. About my family.❞

It wasn't a question, but she still answered: ❝Yes.❞

❝And I should trust you?❞

❝I can't answer that. Trust isn't something that can't be asked for. It has to be given freely.❞

❝...Yasmeen my entire country relies on me.❞

❝I know what's at stake for you.❞

He stayed silent again, watching in the distance while she was watching him. She wanted to stop trying to analyze his very unexpressive face, but she couldn't. She was stuck.

❝You kissed me. Does she know about that?❞

❝No. She thinks we had sex, though. Many times.❞

❝Mh. And that kiss, was it all part of a game?❞

❝Well, first of all, you asked for that kiss.❞ Yasmeen were almost offended, but his question was legitimate. ❝Also, no it wasn't. It was...❞ She was almost embarassed, but she owed him the truth. ❝It was my first kiss. Well, not truly. But the first I wanted too, so I think of it this way. I wouldn't have shared this with her.❞

She tought he blushed for a second, but she couldn't be sure. He still looked so stoic. ❝How can I be sure you're telling the truth?❞

❝You can't.❞

She truly wished she could say something different, but she couldn't. He stayed silent and she did too. The silence stretched for at least a dozen minutes. Not a single sound in the church outside of their quiet breathes. Yasmeen turned away at some point, looking at the status of Farore. Even the goddess couldn't appease her right now. The girl thought about leaving, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

It was almost twenty minutes later that Malachai spoke again. ❝My father and my mother made a pact when I was very young. I had a twin sister, but she was rumored to be a bastard. My father wanted to get rid of her. My mother protested. In return for keeping her, she had to allow my father to raise me as he saw fit. She couldn't intervene too much. And his idea of raising his first born was to make me actively participate in councils and meals with his general from a very early age. That's why I wasn't allowed to eat with my siblings.❞

Yasmeen tried not to show how deeply this admission touched her. In simply opening up again and answering her previous question, he stated without saying it that he chose to trust her, nonetheless. And, like always, she kept this information like a treasure. ❝That's... Well, that must have been very lonely.❞

❝What?❞

❝It was. And in the end, it didn't even matter. My sister was exiled anyway.❞ She could understand the feeling. They stayed silent, until he surprised her with his next words. ❝It was a peck.❞

❝That kiss. You said it was like your first kiss, but it was just a peck.❞ Yasmeen raised an eyebrow, a bit offended, and Malachai realized what he just said. ❝I mean- I, not that it wasn't, you know - good or anything. Just that - that - that if it was your first kiss, maybe it should've been better, and - and.❞

She smiled then, amused by the way he changed the subject, intrigued to know that this was in his mind somehow. He didn't only think about how she was a potential traitor, but also how her first kiss should've been better.

For once, she allowed herself to not think when she grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her, until their lips almost touched. She stopped just a second, just to make sure he agreed to it. So when he nodded, she closed the gap between them and kissed him.

It wasn't a light kiss, not at all. It started this way, but she deepened it as much as she could, and he eagerly followed her. They both smiled into the kiss, and she wondered if she ever knew a better feeling. They only stopped kissing when they were both out of breath, but they didn't break apart. He put his forehead on hers, and she didn't move.

❝Is this kiss up to his Higness expectations?❞ she teased.

He laughed. ❝Yes it is. Although some might argue that kissing in a church is a sin.❞

❝Well then. Maybe we should spend more time in here to repent, don't you think?❞ She was flirty. She had never been flirty in her entire life.

❝I think we have no other choice, sadly.❞

They were still smiling as they broke apart, the food completely forgotten. But Malachai looked serious again when he asked: ❝Am I a fool to trust you?❞

❝I don't know.❞ She didn't want to lie to him. ❝But I truly hope not.❞

[h2llish]

we're starting my rambles with riddle, my love <3

there's a lot about riddle to unpack honestly. his mother was super controlling, and he was sheltered his whole life. he wasn't allowed friends, and he obviously didn't have much of an impactful male figure in his life. his parents don't seem to get along and that's me assuming his parents are even together anymore. and he also had to live up to a perfect expectation his mother put on him. like holy shit, that's a lot.

he doesn't know how to hold decent conversation, can't understand some social cues, and if you haven't noticed, he kind of struggles with maintaining friendships.

coming from someone whose been sheltered by a pretty controlling mother (and step-father, kinda), i can say i totally understand. while my mother didn't have a name to herself and she was a sahm (stay at home mom) so she never held many expectations, she still sheltered and controlled my siblings and i. for the longest time, like riddle, i hadn't realized that what my mother was doing wasn't right or normal. she prevented me from making decent relationships, ultimately ruining my social skills entirely and giving me enough insecurities to cover five(+) of me. i was fortunate enough to have my siblings to rely on, but it became unhealthy and none of us know how to handle real relationships/friendships when we're faced with them. even now, at 18, i remain under her control because of how sheltered i was growing up that the very thought of living without that control is terrifying.

now you take what i just told you about my controlling mother and you add that to riddle's life, you'll see just how shitty his childhood must've been. he didn't even know his mother was controlling until he overblots, he remained completely unaware of his trauma until the chaos of it built up into a meltdown. the only friendships he did have were forbidden when his mother learned he was interacting with other children, and with their leave so went his ability to learn proper, healthy, means of coping and social relationships.

and even after he became aware of the trauma of it all, he can't exactly change at the snap of a finger. he has to unlearn all the unhealthy aspects of what his mother taught him and learn more proper ways of dealing with anything.

and his temper? he probably learned that from his mother. you guys seen the way she acted when she learned her only son was making friends. it is very possible for a child to learn and take on qualities from their parents/guardians and he probably learned his anger from her. and to add to that, he never learned to properly cope with his own emotions under his mother's rule, so his anger is far more uncontrolled.

and i haven't even gotten to his insecurities and shit.

now im going to exclude his height here for obvious reasons (we all know how he is).

riddle probably fails to realize he even has insecurities. his trauma as a "golden" (only) child is enough to cloud the part of your brain that recognizes when you are feeling insecure. he still has so much to learn about himself, and that includes the insecurities that come with his childhood.

insecurities are actually pretty difficult to touch with him as it could be a number of things, and this is all guesswork, assumptions, observations; you can't know for sure. but i'm going to say what i think.

he's relearning everything from new, so i imagine that must make him a little insecure. to live under your mother's rule and then have a complete breakdown over it? someone like him would absolutely be embarrassed if they had to unlearn everything their mother taught them just so they could learn more healthy topics and methods.

he has a fear of failure; absolutely no one can say otherwise because it is so obvious. before his overblot, the stress of continuing to live up to the expectations his mother gave him was a weigh down and added to his blot build up. and after his overblot, he can't exactly break from that mentality. regardless of how much he may try or how much help someone may give, that sort of mentality that's been added to and built on for years cannot be easily broken. it's been shaped so much it might as well be comparable to a full concrete fortress of, "must pass this", "not good enough", and "she'll be disappointed".

he fears disappointment from other people. now listen, i know this one might seem far-fetched. he was and still sort of is dedicated to pleasing his mother, and absolutely sucks at forming decent relationships with other people because of poor social skills. but he is the housewarden of heartslabyul. he has definitely placed expectations on himself that he believes should be met and if they aren't he fears he's let down everyone in the dorm. what good of a queen is he if he can't live up to the quotas and expectations, he's set for himself? if he can't meet every rule? if he does not keep his dorm in the position of best?

he has the nagging insecurity and overall fear of never being good enough. whether that be with his mother, his friends, or future partners. he fears he will never meet someone's expectations and fail to be good enough for them. and this leads to my next statement, loneliness. his only friends were forbidden from him, and he's had no one but his mother until nrc. but even then, no one has been that close to him except try and che'nya so i imagine he must get lonely. and after his overblot, i assume that loneliness must have reached a suffocating point now that he knows about how wrong his mother's behavior was.

now to end this ramble and listen to me on this one ━ he's insecure. that's it. he's insecure about himself, his height, his trauma; everything. he's insecure.

overall, there is just so much to him and i just think people need to think about that when they refer to riddle. he's not just his anger and obsessive need for perfection; he's someone still learning his trauma and trying to better himself.

[gatheredfates]

Soon I say. Then immediately head over here. I have no chill today. I already lightly poked at your characters before asking.

So first question. Koret. Echo. Okay those aren't really questions but tell me about the Echo and her. How does she experience it? She sees it as a curse so I imagine it gets in the way. But what exactly does it let her do? Or do to her?

:)

Koret and the Echo have a very complicated relationship.

In truth, her feelings on the Echo depend on what verse I'm playing her in, because her WoL verse has a very circular relationship that she's only just coming to terms with, whereas her general/in-game verse doesn't have that same kind of closure.

I'll break it down into those parts but I'll pop it under a read-more, only because I tend to get carried away when talking about her.

I may drabble these at some point.

Warrior of Light

Kor, point blank, did not want to be the Warrior of Light. She made it known to the Scions very early in the piece that the only reason that she was allying with them was because her secondary option was killing herself, and she'd prefer to take out Hydaleyn before she did. She was not a kind or palatable character in early ARR.

The thing was, the Echo was nothing but a horror. Her very first manifestation of it showed her sister being murdered and thrown to the brine beneath La Noscea, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop it. She was on her ship at least two days away from port, having just had a major argument with her, and in no place to warn or protect. Her death was an inevitability she could not stop.

Kor has a complicated relationship with her sister. She was protective in the same way she could be possessive; she wanted to shelter her from everything, even at the cost of her experiences, and part of that she felt was the reason she ran into her father's arms when he promised even an ilm of protection. Kor's treatment was more akin a raw nerve — jagged edges and white-hot reactions — and, while her heart was in the right place, a creature raised on rage and trauma learns to extend the same in kind. There were times where she was not a good person, or a good sibling, and those are things she has had to reconcile in Lily's death.

That makes her angry. This anger, this hate, influenced everything she did. What was the point of The Echo if it couldn't stop the one thing she so desperately wished she could avert? She didn't want the people of Eorzea to look at her like she was a hero. If she could carve The Echo out and give it to them malignant and squirming, she would have. If they wanted to be the hero and risk life and limb, they could bloody well have it. All she was interested in was undermining whatever sick individual(s) thought she ought to be the 'chosen one'.

It didn't even occur to her that she was softening over time. Every time she did, it felt like there was another blow — another obstacle — she and the Scions needed to overcome. Rage became resignation, she told herself; even if she'd risk life and limb for them.

It's not so much the Echo does anything to her, no more so than a regular WoL. A lot of the time her visions come to her in dreams, or in strange, intangible pictures she needs to decipher, but they don't hurt her. In Stormblood, she comes to the terrible realisation she had been relying on The Echo when Zenos took her eye, and that causes her outrage all over again.

It's a Catch-22. She didn't mind The Echo when it allowed her to kill her father, but despised using its clairvoyance. It merely showed her that all her thoughts about him were right.

There's a lot in here that I could unpack that would make this already really long reply longer than it already is, but I'll cut to the chase. Elpis was eye-opening for her. Meeting Venat changed her perspective. Events within Shadowbingers had already given her a more sympathetic look towards the ancients and the cruelty of fate, but coming face to face with the person she told herself she hated... she didn't hate her. She simply could not hate her. In telling her the story of how she had come to be, she also had to tell her about her sister.

It was that horrible, gut-wrenching realisation that she needed to ask Venat to only give her The Echo on the night her sister died.

She needed to see that she died, to feel the weight of her death, before she would do anything. Where Lily alive, she wouldn't become the Warrior of Light. If she didn't see her death, there would be no rage to live for — no constant push to adventure and endure for her 'revenge'. Venat had to inflict the worst horror for the greatest kindness, and she did it knowing Kor ( or, more apt, Kore — her protégé, inheritor of her seat ) would hate her.

She did it anyway.

What's crazy about all of that is I made up the former part of Kor's story in Stormblood. Everything beyond that was just a happy accident, and it feels right for it to come full circle in that way. Fate had to play out a certain way so she and others could chart their own course. She needed to live because she deserved to live.

Minor footnotes are that I did drabble parts of it here. I'd like to revisit it at some point but... it's there.

In Game/General Verse

All the stuff surrounding Lily still applies. Kor simply never sought out the Scions. Instead, she was pulled off the brink by Crow and ushered keenly into Firelight Trading Company.

Kor... doesn't like The Echo. That's not a shock. While it gives her the future-sight to predict storms and keep her safe, it's also the little bastard who likes to give her a play-by-play of her friends and loved ones' lives.

There's a indescribable level of mortification that comes from trying to respect peoples' boundaries and their trauma, only for The Echo to conveniently say 'hehe, let's tell you anyway!' in nightmares you can't escape from. It feels invasive and spiteful to her, even if those it affects knows it's not her fault. She wouldn't want people to see into her life, so why is it fair she gets to?

Obviously, I'm very mindful of the power The Echo holds, and I'm deliberate in reinforcing that it doesn't give Kor any advantages in regular roleplay. It's just there for ~flavour~.

However, in both verses she wrecked her ship on Leviathan because she couldn't be tempered and got her just rewards from The Maelstrom. That was probably the best thing that came from it.

[frauleindermorgen]

i'm sorry to be a pelleas rper and ask for 3-13's pre-battle scene 🙈 u know the lines,

canon scene meme | open

it's okay n. nat had ur back anyhoww WAHOO MORE RADIANT DAWN SPOILERS BELOW.

cont. from this ask. let's pick the scene right up again

[ミカヤ] ……でき…ません………▼ "I can't.... I can't do it..."

We've covered what happens if Micaiah accepts Pelleas' command. The scene where Tauroneo kills him instead does not add much, though I do think it's interesting when Almedha insists it must have been Micaiah's fault her son died the response is "...". She doesn't deny it, even though she herself had just been crying over his body. idk idk there's a lot to unpack her without Almedha let's move on

Pelleas apologizes to Sothe and Miciah both for the trouble after handing Tauroneo the knife on NG+, asking Micaiah to give Almedha a ring and his love.

[ペレアス] ミカヤ… この指輪を母上に。▼ できれば…… 心より愛していましたと 伝えてほしい。▼ "Micaiah. This ring, give it to my mother. Tell her I truly loved her, please." [ミカヤ] ……っ……… ……………………▼ (a pained sound)

*lol i was wrong she technically makes a noise here. probably a sharp intake of breath. 🤓

[ペレアス] さようなら、みんな。▼ "Goodbye, everyone."

[ミカヤ] いいえ……っ！ だめです！ ペレアス王、諦めてはだめ！！▼ "N-no! "Not this! King Pelleas, you cannot give up!"

(Micaiah steps between Pelleas and Tauroneo as the latter makes the stab animation. The screen goes white.)

[ペレアス] 君は、なんてことをするんだ…！ "Micaiah, why!" [ミカヤ] ……だい…じょうぶです… …わたしは……▼ "It's.... fine.... I'm... "[ペレアス] すぐ治療を……▼ "A healer, we need - " [ミカヤ] …いりません！▼ ……こんな傷………平気です…▼ あなたを犠牲にして…生き続けろと 言われることに比べたら…… 痛みなんて…ないも同然です……▼ "We don't! This is... fine... Compared to... hearing you say you'd sacrifice yourself... This pain is nothing."

SO!!!!!! looking this over after initially lobbing the jp version of this scene at n i have MORE to say wahaha. Now that I'm not hastily translating it the already BANGER lines about Micaiah's pain meaning nothing to her contain so much more when accurately translated. It's not just that it's less painful because Pelleas isn't being sacrificed. Being stabbed by Tauroneo is literally less painful to her than hearing Pelleas plead for his death before her. Fuck me up.

[ペレアス] ………ミカヤ……▼ ……だけどっ！ 僕のせいなんだっ！！▼ あんな誓約をした責任を…… …せめてこの命で償いたい……▼ "Micaiah.... but still! All of this remains my fault. The responsibility of making that vow... I thought if I could atone for it with my life..."

[ミカヤ]……逃げないで……▼ "You're running away.... don't. [ペレアス] ！▼ [ミカヤ] 戦いましょう。 最後の一瞬まで……▼ …たとえ、わずかでも…… わたしたちには可能性が残されている… ……だから………生きて……▼ "Let's fight on. Until the very end.... it may be small... but there is a chance.... so you have to live...."

I said in my last post I think Micaiah is angry at Pelleas here, and I stand by that. I think it's her anger that is allowing her to speak so frankly here. The adrenaline rush that led her to get in the knife's path and her words directly after it, I find difficult to interpret as anything other than an anger born of love. Don't get me wrong Micaiah's actions here could read as platonic but guess what kids my house my blog and 1. This scene being the cliche "realizing feelings too late" hits hard and good and i make the canon 2. Whoever shipped Micapell on the writers team WENT OFF during this exchange so i feel vindicated by you intsys employee. I see you.

To end this speel I do think the last lines are very telling of Micaiah's overall character, as well as her feelings for Daein. Not just Pelleas. The base conversation where Micaiah swears to Sothe she'd rather be like Ashnard than just if being just means having the people of Daein slaughtered is a direct continuation of this thought process, and I think it is a good example as - even if we lack many DB scenes - she continues to exist as their leader and beacon of hope. I think I'll talk more on this in another post but for now :salute:

[aircea]

I love how ominous she looks with the light on. So the flu came and stayed and I spent every day carrying a bit of my household down to the new apartment, as much as my lungs and the fever would allow. Alas, finding a company at such short notice was a bust. Usually, you have two to three months after canceling your lease so the "moving starts in two days" was a blessing and a curse... mostly a curse really. The feeling of pushing my luck went away quickly after I got my beauty, the transport cost three times as much as she did herself and of course, she arrived before the floor so now she stands there in all her glory, with all the stuff I put in there (because I had to put it somewhere) and the rolled up new flooring next to her.

At least the morning view is nice... piles of unpacked stuff aside.

Ikea did me dirty and the sink and cabinet I wanted for the bathroom were unavailable, so I am staying with what is there now. My old kitchen fits more or less into the new space, with a lot of space to spare but I've set it up temporarily with ugly ducktape finishes, because if I make it pretty it will stay like this for the next several years. I enjoy being a hermit in general but right now I wish I had some friends instead of just acquaintances... putting the floor into the workroom requires taking apart the display cabinet, if I take her apart I would want to give her some TLC, she was stained but the job on the base is not as great. So I'd like to sand the base down and restain it... if I do that I need to do the rest as well, which is a job of several full days, meaning it'll be weeks till she can be put back again. I can neither take her apart nor put her back by myself, it's a two (preferably three) person job, and that is the kind of stuff you just can't ask of an acquaintance or work colleague. I wanted to have the bathroom done and the workroom halfway there before going back to work again but I'm still not a 100% so nothing has been finished really and I've resigned myself to live amongst boxes for the foreseeable future. At least my experiment with some stick-on vinyl turned out nice, I did not have enough for the shelves so I ordered more but this will be the laundry&cleaning supplies cabinet for now, I just stuffed all the miscellaneous jars and tins in there, till I have a space to put them away properly.

[thecreelhouse]

tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gator receives news he anticipated, but never wanted, as well as conquering a major fear; your anxiety over the future is only building, casting self doubt that crawls deep under your skin. Can comfort from one another be enough?

WC: 10.2k

Includes/CW: angst, hurt/comfort, language, death mentions, PTSD involving familial abuse, anxiety attacks, fluff, smut - fingering, cum play, sweet & dirty talk, PiV sex, oral (f!receiving), mentions of intoxication kink

〘 series masterlist ✧.┊this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧.┊listen to the series playlist ✧.┊read on AO3〙

A/N: wow, hi, it’s been a minute! so sorry I went so long without an update, but I appreciate all of the kind comments and anons I’ve received in that gap of time 🥹 we’re getting closer to the end; after this chapter, there should be about 3 more! next will be a bonus/standalone smut ch. and the two after that are a pretty big deal for the end ☺️ thanks so much again for all the support so far! if you’re still reading, just know how grateful I am. I hope y’all enjoy this one <3 p.s. y’all can thank @urhoneycombwitch for sending inspo for one of the scenes in this 🫣🥰

Chapter 7 ✧.┊

flowers on the grave - the maine

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ everything is temporary / even the sorrow that you carry ♬ ₊˚.

·············································

It’s been about a month since Gator proposed to you, and you had been on cloud 9 ever since. Yet there was one thing that continued to tug at your thoughts, buried far back in your mind.

It comes up without suggestion as you blurt the question out. “You ever wonder how everyone’s doin’ back home?”

Cozy in a fortress of pillows and blankets in the window nook, you tilt your head back as you wait for Gator’s response. He’s got you snug between his legs, arms wound around your waist from behind.

Gator knows when you say ‘everyone’ you mean both of your parents’. Well, your parents, and Gator’s dad. Truthfully, he answers, “Yeah, I do. I don’t think I’d wanna hear from my dad, though. Kinda glad he’s never tried to call— not like he knows my new number anyway.”

There’s an ache behind his response; just because Roy was a shit excuse of a father doesn’t mean Gator wasn’t allowed to miss him. Or maybe he missed what his dad could’ve been. He’s unsure, and not ready to unpack that outside of therapy, but it was a tangled perspective you had with your own abusive father.

 “Why do you ask?”

You shrug while you watch raindrops race one another down the window, attention from the book you were reading aloud long gone. 

“Sometimes I wonder how Ma’s doin’ without my—“ You stop, refusing to call that monster your father.”— him. I know she brought a lot of it on herself, but… sometimes, I still wish things woulda’ been okay between us.”

Gator’s quiet, lost in thought and hesitant to suggest it, but he clears his throat before asking, “Do y- you think maybe it might be worth reachin’ out? Maybe it’d help ya’ find some closure.”

Your brows knit together as you tilt your head back to read his expression. He means well, you know that, but you’re not sure you’d be able to hold your anger down if you tried finding closure with your mother.

“Gator, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” The memory of trying to talk to her after your miscarriage floods back, how cold she was, how she refused to comfort you— something a mother should do for their child through any heartbreak. 

She never provided comfort when Willow died; you tried looking for every excuse in the book to give her grace, understanding, but there’s no reason to justify ignoring your grieving daughter after the other was killed so suddenly.

She never stepped in when your father used you and your sister to take out his anger on. He never saw either of you as his children, just personal punching bags.

It was complex, though; a part of you felt like you couldn’t blame her completely, not when she was also abused, too. She was the adult in the situation, and absolutely should’ve protected both you and Willow, but she was attacked just as much as the two of you. 

You knew the facts and statistics of abusive relationships and domestic violence— something you began to learn about through therapy over the years. So, sure, it must’ve been hard to leave for a multitude of reasons… but that didn’t mean she had to leave you and Willow to fend for yourselves.

It was just easier for your heart and mind to write her off completely, especially after visiting home last Christmas.

He sighs, nodding. “M’sorry, just— I figured—” Mentally, he’s beating himself up for even offering the idea, feeling like he should’ve known better. “You don’t owe her a damn thing, you don’t have to reach out… just thinkin’ if I had the chance to reach out to my mom again, I would, in a heartbeat.”

Your heart sinks over his honesty; he’s right, you don’t owe your mother anything after all the hurt she dragged you through, even if indirectly. But the way Gator mentions his own mother chips away at the walls around your heart regarding your own. You know he’d do anything to talk to her, at least one last time. 

A week prior, Gator received closure, but not in the way he had hoped and prayed for most of his life.

𓂃

“Hey, love,” You kicked the door closed behind you, hands carrying takeout bags; you planned on making dinner, but work kept you busy now that summer officially started. Folks had been coming in more frequently, seeking out their next vacation read. “Sorry I’m getting home so late—“

You froze, finding Gator at the kitchen table, head in his hands; an open beer bottle sat on the surface, still full. There was a cardboard box, with a mailing label, ripped open with packaging paper thrown to the floor. The bags were dropped onto the coffee table before you rushed over to him.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You dragged a chair close to him, hand beginning to move along his back in soothing, comforting patterns. “What—“

Gator forced himself to turn to you, face tear stained while his eye was bloodshot. The skin around the sockets were puffed up and blotched red with sorrow.

“Sh- she’s not coming back.”

You were certain you knew the answer, but you asked to make sure; “Who’s not coming back?”

He slid the box over to you; it was small, not much could hide inside, but the contents were earth-shattering for Gator.

A pair of broken glasses. A pair with frames you recognized immediately. The glasses his mother wore.

Tucked into the box was a letter; you reached for it, but paused, looking to him for permission. Gator nodded solemnly.

It was brief, barely a letter, more of a quick note; the words expressed condolences from the officials that had been investigating everything connected to Roy, that they found the glasses in a well on the ranch, along with his mother’s remains.

Though short, it wasn’t cold. They mentioned Dot led them to the well; the investigation was over, and those glasses, once a basic part of Linda’s appearance, became evidence— evidence that they were finished using against Roy for the murder of Gator’s mother.

Now, they were only proof of the memory of her, something Gator prayed he’d have more of if she ever came home.

Your hand fell over your mouth in disbelief, stifling a gasp.

“I… I think I always knew she was gone, but this still fuckin’ hurts.” He finally picks up the bottle before taking a long, harsh swig of the alcohol. You hoped that was the only one he had so far; he didn’t need to fall back into self destructive coping mechanisms, not like the first night the two of you reunited. It wasn’t the time to talk about that. He needed you.

“Gator, I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t say anything to make it better, and he needed to grieve. It wouldn’t get better without grief. He couldn’t move forward until he mourned, first. “I know right now this means shit, but if you need anything, if I can do anything—“

“I know, Darlin’.” He took your hand in his, shaking. “Thank you.”

“That means grieving however you need to, Gator. As long as it’s not harming yourself, or anyone else, you grieve how you want, for as long as you need.” 

He nodded before you took him into your arms; his head fell to your shoulder, bursting into a sob as he reached one of his safe places— your embrace.

“S’fuckin’ stupid.”

“What is, love?”

Gator turned his head, face burying into your neck while his arms wound around your waist. “I — it’s—“

“You can tell me anything, always.”

Another sob shuddered out of him, embrace tightening, holding on for dear life. 

“I wanted— fuck, this is so—“ He takes a deep breath in, then out, trying to keep himself grounded. Your arms are around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you while your hand traced up and down his spine, repeating the soothing motions. 

“I always wanted her to come h- home, alive… and it’s stupid, but I- I hoped she’d come back in time for the wedding. Fuck, that’s so dumb to say out loud.”

“It’s not dumb or stupid or anything like that to wish she’d come home, especially to come to the—“ You can’t even say it, not when it breaks you to watch any hope he had left fade out for good. “— god, Gator, I’m so fucking sorry.” Your own tears began to spill over, hurting for him.

“Me too, Darlin’.” He wept into the crook of your neck, grateful to have you while the truth hit him like a train. “Me too.”

𓂃

Guilt consumes you; if you could give this chance to make things right to Gator with his mom, you would. Instead, the opportunity lies in wait for you to reach out to your own mother, but you refuse.

Am I selfish for this? 

“I don’t think she’d want to speak to me, anyway. I think that bridge is burnt to ashes now.” You murmur as a few stray tears slip down your face, racing against the drops of rain on the glass outside. “It’s for the best, y’know?”

“Angel, c’mere,” Gator tugs you back lazily, and you take the hint, moving to sit in his lap. You rest your head on his chest, now facing the window as he holds you close. “Y’gotta do what’s right for you. And if you ever changed your mind, I support you. Whatever you decide, movin’ on, or fixin’ things, I’m with ya’ every step of the way.”

You nod, fixated on the rain as it continues to pour down. 

“I’ll think about it.”

══════════════════

“Hey, darlin’, can I ask ya’ somethin’?”

While working on a box of duplicate titles for donation, you look up, and over to Gator.

Miles planned to build a few free libraries around Brooklyn during the summer break. Loving the idea, you offered to go through the inventory to find some duplicate titles to donate.

“You don’t have to ask if you can ask me somethin’, baby.” Usually when Gator’s anxious to start a conversation about something he’s unsure over, it sounds similar to what he just said. 

He’s at the front counter, scrolling through your tablet with a slight frown; you move over to him, arms sliding around his waist as you rest your chin onto his shoulder from behind.

“Jesus, if ya’ open anymore tabs you’re gonna break the damn internet.” You tease with a quick kiss to his cheek. He huffs, frustrated. “M’sorry, what was your question?”

His tone is quiet, rushed, tips of his ears turning red as he grows shy.“You got any books in braille here?”

You had to think about it for a minute; it’s something you’ve never considered to keep stock of, and you realize that’s a backwards privilege of being able bodied. You’re not vision impaired, and while there was a section of the shop for large print books, it never once crossed your mind to keep some braille books, too.

Recognizing your mistake makes you feel careless for not being more inclusive, and Gator can sense that as your hold tenses up around him.

He turns around to face you, “Hey, s’okay, I’m not mad or anythin’, just was wonderin’.”

“No, I know, I just feel like an asshole for never takin’ that into consideration. Not tryin’ to make it about me, just… ugh. Can’t believe I never—“ You stop yourself, shaking your head; it’s not about you, and you could either kick yourself for the mistake or do something about it. “Thank you for bringin’ it up, I think it’s a good idea to look into.”

“They’re pretty expensive, from what I’ve read, but maybe at least we could offer to find copies if someone asks for ‘em?” He shrugs, bringing up the idea. “Y’know, a few days ago when I was here alone, a kid came in askin’ for some book— can’t remember what— in braille for his dad. I felt bad I couldn’t help him.”

“Well, shit. Yeah, you’re right, we should figure somethin’ out to offer more reading accessibility.” 

You kiss his forehead quick, admiring what might be a little empathy to him, but is huge in your eyes; the way he wants to help others is something you’ve always seen in him growing up, but he never expressed it much with his father always lying to him that was just another display of weakness.

Roy’s twisted ways of raising Gator into someone cold and heartless was infuriating enough, but to watch Gator unlearn and learn so much, becoming truly a good person, that outweighed the negativity his past held. 

To witness your fiancé not only work on himself, his trauma, and realize the whole world wasn’t out to get him… that good, loving people exist and want to love and care about him, want to see him live a life free of abuse… what a privilege it’s been, and continues to be.

If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last several months, it’s that no amount of hate or misery can suppress a kind heart; Gator Tillman was proof of that.

══════════════════

Despite the progress Gator has made, the confirmation of his mother’s passing was pulling him into a darker place, one where he felt isolating was better than talking about it. 

It had been a few weeks since he learned the truth. You’d never push him or anyone to “get over” the sorrow, because it’s cruel and  impossible; everyone just heals at their own pace, plain and simple.

But you didn’t expect him to hide in himself the way he had been, and continued to do.

On a night everyone decided to get drinks on a whim, Gator didn’t feel like going out; he insisted you should still go and spend time with your friends.

You offered to stay home, assured him time and time again you’d rather be home with him and make sure he felt okay, but it almost felt as if he was pushing you to keep your plans the more and more you asked.

It didn’t ease your worry, but lately, Gator’s been on edge, so you figured maybe he just needed some alone time.

Sure enough, the rational thought eventually snowballed into believing he was sick of you.

We’re not even together a year yet, and he’s already tired of me. What if he’s only with me out of pity? Or as a backup option? What if he moves back home? What if he finds someone else? What if—

Letting the ‘what ifs’ run wild wouldn’t help, and you should communicate your anxieties with Gator, but he had so much of his own sorrow to work through, you didn’t want to overwhelm him with your outlandish worries.

So you give him space that night, going out to the bar Miles has been working for the summer with everyone else. At first, the night flows as smoothly as the alcohol; the summer heat settled down with the sunset, making it a perfect night to spend on the bar’s rooftop.

After living most of your life in a state as flat and bare as North Dakota, seeing too far across the horizon for your liking, the sight from a rooftop in the city never grows old for you. You’ve called Brooklyn home for a little over a decade, now, and you can’t imagine how you survived as long as you had before getting out on your own.

Now, sharing that with your best friend, the love of your life, you’re living out a dream life you never knew you wanted.

The anxious thoughts creep back to try to convince you otherwise, even though you usually can handle your alcohol pretty well. It’s rare, but tequila is betraying you tonight, and your feelings start to creep out.

You don’t even realize you’re pouting slightly, looking out to the Manhattan skyline as your gaze glosses over, until Ivy points it out softly.

“Sunshine, what’s wrong, babes?” 

“Hm?” You don’t look away, admiring the glittering lights you’ll never grow tired of. They sparkle even more with the tears in your eyes.

“You were talking about ideas for the wedding!” Flor softly exclaims, trying to bring you back to the excitement you were just in.

Blankly staring at her, you nod after a moment. “Right, yeah. Sorry.” Maybe this could be a distraction for you. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, you bring up one of your favorite ideas so far: “I dunno, maybe it’s silly, but I think it’d be kinda fun to get a ton of disposable cameras, let everyone take photos from their own perspectives, y’know?”

“Are you kidding? That sounds so fun!” Flor exclaims, adding, “I know film is expensive, but I’ll totally chip in to get them developed.”

“Shouldn’t be too bad, since it’ll be a small wedding,” You smile through your anxious thoughts. “I mean, it’s just y’all, Bea, any of y’all partners, and Dot and her family.”

“Have you tried reaching out to your mom?” Ivy asks softly, hand on your arm. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, I get it. It’s okay.”

“I… I talked about it with Gator, but I don’t think that’s a bridge meant to be rebuilt. I’m torn. Gonna wait and think about it.”

“That’s smart. Whatever you decide, we got your back,” Jinx assures, sipping her drink. 

“Thanks, y’all.” You sigh, elbows on the table as you rest your head in your hands. “I wish Willow and Gator’s mom were able to come to the wedding.” You scrunch your eyes shut, shaking your head, “Sorry, we don’t have to get into that. I—“ You push out of your chair, “I’ll be back.”

As you make your way to the bar, chatting with Miles while he makes your drink, you don’t notice the way your friends discuss their concern for you. Ty texts Gator quietly, just to be safe.

You’re finishing your glass minutes after making it back to the table,  trying to drown out the spiraling thoughts.

Ivy pushes a glass of water towards you. “You need to slow down, babes.” You shake your head. “What’s going on?”

“You wanna head back?” Ty asks, pulling your attention back to the group. Even Miles gives you a concerned glance from behind the bar. Jinx hops off her stool to ask Miles for some water for you.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry.” When the words slip, so do the tears. You’re grateful it’s a slow, quiet night in this bar. 

“Did something happen?” Flor asks as Jinx passes some napkins over to you. You grab them, blotting the tears away.

Up until this point, you hid the worry you couldn’t shake. You didn’t want to cause a scene, or make Gator look bad; he was struggling, and any changes in his mood were valid. You had to keep reminding yourself not to think too hard into it. This wasn’t about you. Not at all.

But it didn’t keep your thoughts from spiraling into believing you did something to trigger all of this.

You don’t even realize something slips until everyone grows quiet, eyes on you. “What?”

“You know Gator adores you, right?” Flor breaks the silence first, leading your bleary gaze up to her. 

Me and my big fuckin’ mouth.

“Babes, the two of you better not pull that shit like that meme where you’re about to say your vows and ask if y’all still like each other,” Ty murmurs, and Ivy shoulder checks him, earning a hissed “I’m trying to make her laugh!” 

It still earns a hint of a smile from you, but it’s gone in a flash.

“Have you two talked ‘bout this?” Ivy asks, voice softer than Ty’s. Meanwhile he mouths “Sorry!”

“He’s got so much goin’ on… I can’t add to all of that.”

“It’s good to be considerate of someone else’s struggles, but the two of you are getting married, you’re supposed to be able to talk to your significant other about anything.” Jinx points out wisely. 

Someone’s phone goes off; Ivy pulls hers out, reading a text, “Miles says he agrees with whatever advice we’re giving.” It pulls a sad laugh out of you. She gives a serious glance,“He’s lucky we’re good friends. For all he knows, we could be trying to convince you to shave your eyebrows off and get them tattooed to look like—”

“Eels,” Ty blurts out, shrugging as Ivy quirks a brow his way. 

“Hey, if you want brows that look like eels, you better come to me to get ‘em done,” Jinx snickers.

Another soft, sad giggle floats from your lips. “I love y’all—“ You pause, noticing Gator across the bar. He makes his way over to the group, giving you a sympathetic, half-smile of understanding. Despite the insecurities you just expressed, you can’t help lighting up at the sight of him. “That’s my fiancé!”

“Who is she announcing that to?” Flor whispers with a snicker. Ivy shoots daggers her way, shutting her up immediately.

“Someone’s tipsy,” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “How’re you doing, Darlin’?” It only takes one glance up to him to answer the question; your eyes are sad, glassy, but you’ve got a weary smile as you try pushing past your emotions.

Ivy initiates conversation among everyone else, giving you and Gator space.

Softly, you ask, “Why’d you come now?”

“Wanted to walk ya’ home,” His hand rests on your back, rubbing his thumb back and forth against your exposed skin in this sundress. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Can we go now? M’not feelin’ great.”

“Yeah, f’course.” He grabs your hand, holding you steady as you leave the stool. The two of you give your quick goodbyes, while you miss the way Gator claps Ty’s shoulder, leaning down with a quick “Thanks, man,” while Ty nods, flashing a thumbs up in response.

The walk home isn’t long, but Gator keeps the pace slow for your sake, just to be safe. Hand in hand, you walk down the sidewalk in silence, but it doesn’t last very long.

“Who told you I was sad?”

Gator gives a puzzled glance. “What?”

“M’sorry they made you come out, I didn’t ask, I swear—“

“Darlin’, no apologizin’ for that. I know you didn’t, but I wish you told me you weren’t feelin’ well.” He squeezes your hand in his.

“Oh. I- well I didn’t wanna bother ya’.”

“You’re never botherin’ me—“

You stop dead in your tracks, glaring at Gator with a perplexed stare. 

“Babe, when’d you stop vaping?”

The quick change in conversation makes him snort. “When I got here. Shit’s expensive here, ain’t worth it. Prolly’ bad for my eye, too.”

“How’d I miss that?”

He shrugs, a half-smirk lingering on his features. “Who knows. Maybe you were just too distracted by my handsome face, eh?”

“That’s actually always the reason I’m ever distracted.” Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, and Gator notices.

“If you think that’s bad, wait ‘til I tell ya’ about how distracting my girl is just by existing.” He swings his hand in yours as the two of you arrive home, but his remark earns no smile, no teasing in return. 

Walking the three flights of stairs, you’re quiet, but the second you get through your apartment door, you burst into tears. It kills Gator to see you so upset and not even know why.

“Darlin’, talk to me, tell me what’s goin’ on,” He pulls you towards the couch, and as he sits back, you stumble over your own feet, landing on his lap. “Well, that worked out, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” You sniffle pathetically as you situate yourself on his lap, hugging him while your legs rest on either side of him. “Missed you.”

“Is that what had ya’ upset?” You shake your head, ducking into his shoulder. Gator weaves his hand into your hair, softly pulling you back to look you in the eye. It’s not sexual in the slightest, but he’s surprised you don’t even whimper. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

You sit back, still on his lap, but you grab his hands to hold in yours, mindlessly fidgeting with his fingers among your own. 

“Are you happy with me? With us?” Your voice wavers, threatening to break. It makes Gator’s face soften, hands pulling away from yours to lift your chin with one, rest the other around your waist. 

“Am I happy with you? Fuck yeah I am.” His answer pulls a small, short-lived giggle out of you, but doubt washes over you again. “I love us together, darlin’. I’d be miserable without you. I was miserable without you, and every day I’m grateful ya’ gave me a second chance.”

“Are you happy here?”

“I’d be happy anywhere with ya’. Y’know that.” Gator frowns, “Where’s all this comin’ from?”

You shrug, and he shakes his head.

“C’mon, tell me.”

Now you’re on the fence between feeling foolish for ever doubting this relationship or Gator, and the self-doubt and anxiety that’s been eating away at your brain all day. Longer than that, really.

“Are you sick of me?”

He sits up, pulling you closer to him; both of his hands hold your face steady in front of him. 

“Not a chance, darlin’.”

“But today you seemed so… so—“ Everything you want to say is bubbling up your throat at once. “I don’t expect being with you all the time, I- I think space is healthy, I don’t wanna become all co-dependent and shit, but I thought you just wanted me gone— not that— it’s not your fault—“

He sighs, “It ain’t yours, either. Today’s just one of the harder days, but it ain’t ‘cause of you.” You let your head loll into his touch, tears still persistent. “Your anxiety has been rough lately, what’s goin’ on?”

“I just- I— my thoughts won’t shut off, Gator. It got in my head that you were sick of me, so then I was worryin’ you’d leave again,” You’re too worked up to notice the way his face looks physically pained to hear the word ‘again’, “go back home, find someone else— then I kept thinkin’ how if you went back, what if somethin’ else happened to you? 

“Last time you were home, you coulda’ died, a- and if you did, I’d—“ Never mind shutting off, your thoughts won’t even slow down, running every red light. “— if you’re not happy with me, I wouldn’t want you to stay for my sake, I’d want ya’ to be happy wherever, even if it hurts. Just promise me you won’t go home? S’not safe for you there—“

Gator surges forward, finally bringing your anxious thoughts to a stop with a kiss. It’s not too quick, but short enough to get the point across. His lips barely touch yours as he pulls back, nudging his nose against yours.

“Angel, I meant it when said home’s been with you all along,” As you shudder, trying to hold back a sob, he pecks your lips with his, pulling back a little further. “Where we grew up ain’t home to me anymore. It’s here, with you.”

The way he looks at you like you’re his entire world, the way he always calls you ‘Darlin’’ and ‘angel’ with a sweetness laced within, one you only ever heard before he changed, before he walked away. It was still there all along, beneath all the misery he was buried under; it carried a certain warmth that made you feel safe, as kids, as, teenagers, and still does now.

You felt so foolish for ever second guessing that.

“Gator, I’m so sorry—“ He cuts you off with another kiss, short and sweet. 

“No apologies. We’ve both been through too much stuff that leaves a lotta hurt behind. It doesn’t get better overnight, and I ain’t gonna shame ya’ for not feelin’ better by the mornin’.” He’s sincere, voice gentle with a hint of that rasp he gets when he chokes back his own tears. “Maybe we should try therapy together, yeah?”

You lean back, hand on Gator’s forehead as your brows furrow. He looks up with a confused laugh.

“What on earth are ya’ doin’, angel?”

“Just making sure you’re not burnin’ up with a fever,” You murmur, pulling back to lock your gaze with his. “Never thought I’d see you go to therapy, and never once crossed my mind you’d be the one suggesting we go together.”

His face flushes red, “Oh, was that a bad idea?”

“God, no. I think it’s worth a try. You mentioning it is just proof how much progress and growth you’ve made since moving here.” You’re grabbing his face now, still a little tipsy as you squish his cheeks inward, making him laugh. His smile is contagious, playing up on your features, too. “You amaze me every damn day, Gator Tillman.”

He’s misty eyed, pulling you close again to shower your face in soft kisses, slowly moving to your jaw, then your neck. Right as your breaths fall shallow, he pulls away, making you whine.

“You know we’re gettin’ married, right?” He teases softly with a smirk. “Ain’t no way I’d call that off. You’re stuck with me ‘til the end of our days, Darlin’.”

“But what if—“

Gator pulls his phone out of his pocket, thumbing around for a moment before looking up at you. “Gonna show ya’ somethin’ that I know you’ll tease me for forever, but I hope it’s proof that m’serious ‘bout this.”

He hands his phone over to you, and you realize—

“Holy shit, do you— you’re joking, Gator.”

“I’m not, go ‘head, make fun of me,” He says with a grin, hands resting on your hips. 

“Never thought I’d see the day Gator Tillman would… use Pinterest… ?” You crack up, scrolling through the app. “Never in a million years would I think you’d ever make a board for wedding planning— this is a joke, right?”

“Absolutely not. Y’can blame Ty, he got me hooked on that stupid thing. Now I’m constantly savin’ shit like we’re gonna have a wedding with 14 themes, or somethin’.” He laughs along with you. “Asked him if it’d be gay—“

“Gator—“

“I know! I know, it was wrong and slipped, but he corrected me, don’t worry. Lil’ fucker flicked my nose when I asked. Shit hurt.” You’re picturing the scenario, laughing harder.

“Thought maybe one of the girls would’ve talked you into this shit.”

“Oh, c’mon, you have one too,” He grins, kissing your cheek. “Wanna go through ideas tomorrow?”

“Can’t believe how soft you’ve gone on me, Tillman,” Your hand is carding through his hair while the other’s tossing the phone aside. “You’re lucky I got a sweet tooth, ‘cause this is sickeningly sweet, even for you. But yeah… I’d love to do that.”

“We don’t have to decide now, but I was thinkin’… maybe the wedding could be next year?” Gator suggests, admiring the way your face lights up.

“Really? You mean it?”

“Yes I mean it— believe me for once, will ya’?” He chuckles, but it’s short-lived as you kiss him, longer than the last few times he kissed you. 

Your lips part against his as his hand cradles the side of your face; you break the kiss, just enough to murmur, “I think I need more convincing.”

Gator huffs, “Do ya’ now?”

“Yeah,” You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging slowly as you draw out an elongated groan from him. “Just to be safe.”

“You’re not cryin’ anymore, though. I think you believe me enough.” You grind down onto him, watching as Gator’s head falls back with another restrained echo of pleasure. 

“Not cryin’ ‘cause you’re not splitting me open with that fat cock,” Your hands slip under his shirt, running up his torso with a ghosting touch; rolling the fabric up and over his head, a burst of confidence hits you, surging you forward to tease his nipple with your tongue. He whimpers, flexing his hips up into you, but you pin him down with your legs, and he moans, loudly. Your hand slaps over his mouth, shushing him. 

You sit up with a glare, “And you say I’m loud?” 

Gator bucks up into you again, throbbing underneath you. You grin devilishly at him, but it drops when he grabs your chin roughly.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

“No, m’not!”

“Tipsy?”

“… A lil’,” You admit shyly, but the shyness falls away quickly. “Why? You wish I was drunk so y’could do whatever y’wanted with me?”

Releasing your face, Gator smirks, diving into the crook of your neck before sucking roughly along your skin. You gasp, rolling your hips into him; he slides a hand between your legs, cupping your heat under your dress, groaning in such a guttural way, it nearly makes you gush.

“Y’didn’t wear anything underneath?”

You shake your head, rolling your hips again to feel his hand against your clit. His eye rolls back at the feeling of you already dripping down his fingers.

“Darlin’… why’d you do that if I was stayin’ home?”

“Was hoping you’d—“ You grip his wrist as he slips a finger into you, jaw falling to the floor as he curls it just right. “Y- you’d come anyway, or it’d be a surprise when I got h- home, at least.” His brow quirks before he pushes another finger in; your head lolls back, falling prey to the imminent orgasm he’ll give if he keeps this up. 

“Yeah? That why you’re always wearing these cute lil’ sundresses ‘round me?”

“Uh-huh, easy access for ya’, babe.” Without warning, he slides a third finger in. You grip his wrist tighter, eyes screwing shut as your head falls forward. “Oh, god— fuck, Gator!” He pulls the top of your dress down, nearly coming untouched when he discovers you wore absolutely nothing under the dress, top to bottom. He watches the skin around your nipples pebble, leading to the sensitive nubs to grow even harder from the usual state the piercings hold them in.

“My girl’s so needy, huh? It’s a shame I stayed home, coulda’ really enjoyed playin’ with ya’ at the bar.” You clench around his fingers, earning a mischievous chuckle from him. “Next time.”

“P - promise?”

“Mhm. And next time, I’ll fuck ya’ right before we leave,” He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, setting off a wave of shivers and whimpers out of you. “Cum in that tight, pretty pussy of yours, and make ya’ leave the house with nothin’ on underneath. Spend the rest of the night tryin’ not to drip everywhere like the greedy lil’ brat you are.”

“Oh g- god, oh my god, oh my fucking god—“

“Does that convince ya’? That enough?” He’s smirking while watching you unravel at the seams. “Of course it ain’t enough. Nothin’s enough for my greedy brat.”

Your body shakes, eyes rolling back as your nails dig into his arm, practically riding his fingers at this point.

“That’s okay, though. Gonna be mine forever, yeah? Got all the time in the world to make ya’ cum, over, and over, and over… ” You nod mindlessly, heat spreading throughout every inch of your being. “Gonna give ya’ what ya’ want… what y’need, forever. Make you cum ‘til you pass out, give in to every filthy fantasy y’have—”

“M’yours, I’m yours Gator, all yours,” You’re a babbling wreck, just on the edge of your high. “Gonna give you— ohmygod— give y- you everything y’need, too.”

“I know you will, Darlin’, ‘cause you’re my good girl,” Gator’s face presses close to yours, lips barely touching. “C’mon, cum for me. Wanna get ya’ soaked before I fuck ya’ dumb.”

Nearly screaming, Gator crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your filthy, desperate noises as you gush all over his hand. You flutter and clench around his fingers while convulsing as you ride your high out. You’re fucked out. Beyond it. All from his fingers.

Pulling back, he grins as he finds you panting, practically drooling all over yourself.

“How y’feelin’?”

You fall forward into him, laughing breathily. “I think I just died and went to—“ as he pulls his fingers out, he brushes against your clit; you’re sensitive enough for another high to pull you in quickly. You cry out, and Gator doesn’t shut you up in time before your sound echoes around the apartment. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He groans while his hand comes up into view, slick and sticky from your arousal. He leans in to clean your release off his fingers, but you lean in too, doing the exact same. Between his fingers, your tongues touch. When the two of you realize what you had done, you’re both whining and whimpering at the sight of one another.

“That was disgusting,” Gator groans, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, swapping spit and your slick. He breaks the kiss, panting “So fuckin’ hot, Angel.”

You’re lost in a daze, slumping forward into him once more. “Wanna fuck you,” You murmur, giving lazy kisses to his neck.

“You’re too fucked out,” He breathily laughs, kissing your forehead. “Maybe y’should go to sleep.”

“Only if you let me cockwarm you,” You’re slurring your words, but you’re mostly intoxicated from the two orgasms that tore through you, and maybe the tiny bit of tequila still in your system.

Gator’s cock kicks underneath you, restrained from the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck, okay, yeah,” He pushes you off of him gently, holding you up as he rises to his feet. You’re wobbly as he leads you upstairs to the bedroom. You’re perfectly content with collapsing on the bed, still in your dress, but Gator helps you out of it.

“You’re so good to me, Gator.”

“M’just helping you change, ain’t that big of a deal, Darlin’.” He chuckles, but you shake your head. 

“Not that, I mean with everything. It was silly of me to even think you didn’t want to be together anymore. I’m so—“

“What’d I say?” He throws your dress to the floor, hand resting on your hip, caressing the plushy curve with his thumb. The other hand cradles the side of your face. Your eyes flutter shut over his touch. “No apologies, right?”

You nod languidly, glimpsing at him through lust-heavy lids, “Right.”

Gator leans in, kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment, admiring the little sigh of satisfaction you release.

“Lay down for me, Darlin’.” You follow his order, sighing happily as you hit the mattress. He strips quickly, climbing into bed next to you. Without being told, you turn on your side as he spoons you, cock dripping with precum as he teases your folds with it.

“I’ll never get tired of you. Never get tired of— holy shit—“ Your breath hitches as he sinks into you. “— o- of makin’ you feel good. Never gonna get sick of how good you feel, takin’ my cock like a good girl.”

You whimper, clenching around him as he nestles deep, as far as he can go. You feel so full, head falling back onto his shoulder as he holds your hips in place.

“I know, Darlin’, must be hard to be patient when all you wanna do is ride me, huh?” He kisses up the back of your neck, with a tauntingly slow pace. Reaching the spot right behind your ear, he leaves one last kiss that forces you to shiver.

“Earlier, y’mentioned if I wished you were still drunk so I could do whatever I wanted… that somethin’ you’re into?”

You tighten around him, pulling a sigh out of him as he nuzzles into your hair. His hands snake up your exposed figure, toying with your tits again.

“Mhm… or if you got me fucked up in the first place.” You reach a hand back, gripping into his hip while rolling your ass back against him. He doesn’t stop you from moving this time. “Make me all dumb before y’even touch me, make me do whatever y’want.”

Gator pulsates against your walls as he stifles a groan, “I can do that without the alcohol, Angel. You’re easy to please once you’re all blissed out, n’shit.” He lazily snaps his hips into you, tugging at your piercings to make you squirm.

“What happened t- to keeping still?”

“Later,” He pants, keeping a slow and steady pace. 

“We never last long with this shit,” You breathily laugh, but it dissolves into a whine as he hits your sweet spot. Though you love this position, an idea pops into your head. “Baby, wait.”

His thrusts stop, “You okay?” You nod, pulling yourself off of him, and he lets you but there’s a strangled groan at the loss of your warmth deep in his throat.

“Sit up,” You point to the pillows, and Gator does, head resting back on the wall behind the bed. 

“You’re not gon’ cuff me again, are ya’?” His length twitches at his own words, tip rosy and leaking precum with need. 

You shake your head with a smirk, straddling him, rubbing your folds along his shaft. He shudders out an “Oh, fuck.”

“No, just wanna show y’somethin’.” You sink down onto him with ease, still soaked from before. He whimpers, completely sheathed in your warmth, trying to buck up, but you hold his legs down, staying seated and still.

“Darlin’, don’t do this to me again,” He groans, kicking against your smooth, tight walls. “What’d you wanna show me?”

Your hips roll forward, earning more sweet noises from Gator. As you slowly ride him, you lean your forehead into his, breathing with a still fucked-out smile, “How much I love you.”

That pulls out the whiniest moan from him. Grabbing your face in his hand, he pulls you into a kiss, soft and slow while you grab his shoulders, in need of balance.

As you pull away, Gator grins at you sweetly, but when his gaze falls to where the two of your bodies meet, he groans shamelessly. “Love you s’much, so- oh my god—“ You lean back, finding a delicious angle that pleases you both. His hands roam your curves, “Feels so good, angel.”

You return to him, lips on his neck in an instant, murmuring, “Gonna let me make y’feel good forever?”

Gator chuckles sleepily, “Until the day our joints get too old for shit like this.”

You giggle against his skin, nipping softly before sucking the sore spots. The vibrations of your laugh make the love bites so much sweeter. 

“I’d get a hip replacement for you,” You quip, muffling more giggles into his neck.

“That’s peak romance, right there,” He snorts, head lolling back against the wall.

Kisses trail along his jawline, bringing him back into the intimate moment. “I’d do a- anything for you, you know that, right?” Your hips move faster as you grind down, brushing your clit against him every so often, making you jolt. 

“I’d do anythin’ for you, Darlin’.” Gator’s lips are on yours again as he thrusts up into you, matching your pace. “I’m all yours,” He moans your name, with a string of curses to follow. “Y’have me, forever.”

He leans down to your chest, tongue tracing around one nipple, the other with his fingers. His touch is tender and playful, causing your back to arch, pushing you closer to him. His fingers and lips switch places; he glances up at you as he laps at the sensitive bud, and something about the eye contact pushes you to the edge, but not over it yet.

“You have me forever, too, Gator— oh— f- fuck— please…”

Gator pulls away, spit trailing from his lips to your peaked nub, leaving your piercing glistening with the slick. Feeling your walls tighten around him, he toys with your clit, watching your head fall back in a silent cry. Walls fluttering, your hips jerk gracelessly as you finally reach your high. 

You’re drained as he continues to chase his own high; his arms wind and lock around you, pulling you close as he hammers up into you, grunting in your ear as your head rests on his shoulder.

“Gonna— m’gonna— “

You force yourself back up to watch, rasping out, “Cum for me, Gator.” You grab his face, though tired, you still look so angelic to him. “Be good f’me… fill me up, make me yours.”

Distant voices float up from the stairwell, right as Gator’s crying out. You slap your hand back over his mouth, riding him even faster. Tears line his eye as it rolls back and he spills into you, shaking and moaning roughly in the palm of your hand. His entire face is red as he pulsates within you, coating your walls.

Gator pushes your hand away as he comes down, catching your lips in his, savoring a soft, blissed out kiss. You pull back, panting against him with a smirk.

“What was that about you fuckin’ me dumb?” He gives an eye roll before pinching your ass. “Hey!” He grins tiredly.

“I love you. I love us. I love our life together.” He whispers, lips still lingering on yours. “And m’gonna love it, and us, and you forever. And if you keep questioning that, I guess we’ll just have to fuck it out all over again.”

“I mean… if we have to…”

Lazily, he slaps your ass, triggering a yelp out of you, followed by sleepy laughter, “C’mon, brat, let’s clean up and go t’bed. We got big plans tomorrow.”

With a groan, you roll off of him; he gets up first, helping you up on wobbly legs.

The simple moments between memories of intimacy, the domestic undertones, with or without the teasing banter— they’re becoming more and more precious to you as time carries on.  

There was point where you couldn’t imagine life with Gator, but now, you can’t imagine your life without him. He’s always expressing gratitude for the second chance you gave him, but you don’t say enough how thankful you are, and always will be, that he was willing to trust you and restart his life for the better.

══════════════════

By sunrise, you’re startled awake by a blaring alarm, you try sitting up, until you find Gator slumped over you, still deep in sleep while drooling on your chest. 

“Gator, get up,” You’re hissing as you try shoving him off of you, but he nuzzles into you, arms wrapping around tightly.“I gotta shut that damn alarm off!”

Maybe choosing the most obnoxious alarm sound did its job; you’re up on the first round of its tone, but the longer it continues to screech through the apartment, the more irritated you become.

“Tillman, if you don’t let me go, I’ll bite you.”

He giggles tiredly, content in his spot, still half asleep and unbothered by the ear piercing nuisance. “That a promise, Darlin’?”

With an eye roll and an exaggerated groan, you shove him off of you, leaving him to flop onto the pillows with a whine. Stumbling across the room, you grab your phone off the dresser, turning off the horrid alarm for good. 

“Did you put this over here last night?”

“Uh-huh, smart, right?” He continues to bury himself back under the covers with a sigh as he relaxes again. “That way we’d have to get up.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business? I’m the one who got up!”

“Y’did,” He chuckles, like a damn brat, thinking he won. He doesn’t hear you come back over as he continues his taunting, “M’so proud of you— hey!”

Gator sits up with the grumpiest expression as you yank the covers back. It’s honestly hilarious to watch him pout so humorously while he’s still completely naked.

Then again, you must equally look like a fool with your hair disheveled after rolling out of bed, also still naked, now holding the sheets back with a devilish grin.

“What time is it?” He grabs your phone from your hands, answering his own question. “6? In the morning? Angel, what the hell’s wrong with ya’?”

“The beach gets crowded fast! All the tourists make finding a spot annoying, so we gotta go in a bit.” Then you add, “Plus, there’s the ride there—“

“Ain’t it like, 20 minutes? That ain’t bad.”

“Yeah, but the to—“

“Oh, c’mon, like you’re not a technically a glorified tourist.”

His backwards logic has you barking out a short laugh. “Babe, that’s not the same, like, at all. Also, what are you, then?!”

“Okay, fine, what’s the other word?”

“Transplant?”

“Yeah, that—“

“For the record, Tillman, I’ve lived here for over a decade now, I think I have enough seniority to not be called that,” You’re losing the battle of trying to hold back more giggles. “Besides, you’re living here for what, half a year? Shut it.”

He sighs, shaking his head and shrugging, “Well, alright, if ya’ insist,” Leaning forward quickly, he grabs you by the waist, tugging you back into bed. You hit the mattress with a yelp.

“Gator!”

“What? You said I needed to shut up,” He grins, a trace of sleepiness still gracing his features. 

“Yeah, but…” You trail off while Gator kisses softly down your neck, wandering further down, taking his time to tease your sensitive spots with his tongue. 

“S’okay, Darlin’, I got a perfect way to do that,” He drags his lips down your hips in wet kisses, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he pushes them apart.

“But we gotta get ready…” Your words twist into a whine as he creeps up your thighs with more kisses, leaving a few bites in between. 

“We got time, right?”

“Uh—“ Gator cuts you off as he drags his nose along your clit, following with a teasing lap of his tongue. Your words vanish as your back arches. 

“What was that?” Again, he licks a long, slow stripe up your folds before teasing your core with open-mouthed, wet kisses. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly to bring his face closer to your core.

“W- we— Gator… don’t stop, don’t—“ You slap your hand over your face to muffle your moans, but he tugs your arm back down. Arms hooked under your legs, he grabs your wrists, pinning them to the bed. 

“Say it.” The noises he makes between your slick and his spit are obscene, slurping your arousal as it drips into his mouth.

“We g- got time,” You grab his wrists in return, hips rolling as you grind against his face; a strangled moan hangs in the balance between your lungs and the oxygen around you, waiting to catch the sound and send it across the apartment.

“Good girl,” He groans, taking his time as he softly tongues at your clit, lips wrapping around to suck gently. “Just gotta stay quiet for me, angel. Think you can do that?” 

You bite down onto your bottom lip, whining muffled as you tense under his skillful tongue; silently, you nod, eyes twisting shut.

Gator pulls back, biting your thigh roughly, watching with a dark gaze as you gasp, eyes flying back open.

“Eyes on me, Darlin’.” He gets back to work, humming against your clit, adding vibrations that reverberate through your entire being as you shake. Still, you force yourself to watch him as you begin falling apart. “That’s it, just like that. Good girl.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The beach— Coney Island— wasn’t far, just a short commute away from where you lived on the opposite side in Brooklyn. Still, as you pitched a giant umbrella in the sand, Gator admits defeat.

“Alright, fine. You were right, it does get crowded pretty fast,” He helps you shove the pole into the sand, securing the umbrella. 

“S’only gonna get worse, it’s supposed to get real hot today.”

The group put up a few more umbrellas so everyone had sun protection, with Jinx warning everyone, “You all better wear your damn sunscreen today. I don’t wanna hear anyone whining that their ink is fading.”

“Okay, tattoo mom, we get it.” Ty teases, throwing his shirt off happily. His top surgery scars weren’t a concern to him; he was just happy to be himself, finally. Even if that meant being shirtless at the beach.

He’s grinning at you and Gator, like a proud little brother, until Jinx literally slaps a handful of sunscreen onto his back. “Whoa!” You snort while he flips you off.

Jinx is having none of it, “I mean it, Tyler. You better—“

“Nuh-uh, no full name shit!”

Ivy glares at the two, leaning back in her beach chair while plugging her ears with her headphones. “Children.”

Everyone ends up doing their own thing while you and Gator take your time, but you notice he’s acting a little… off. 

Tilting your sunglasses down, you glance at him, “You wanna head in?”

Gator hesitates, sitting back on his hands with his legs out on the beach towel. His incredibly dark sunglasses hide any certainty of his expression, making it hard for you to read him.

“I…” He’s staring out to the water, and slowly you start to notice the way he ever so slightly cringes at the waves crashing.

You sit next to him, leaning closer as you kiss his shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve never…” Gator shakes his head, looking down at the sand. “It’s dumb.”

“Hey, we talked about this, love.” You reach for his hand, lacing it in yours. Your palms are warm and a little slippery from the sunscreen, but he doesn’t pull back. “If it upsets you, it’s not dumb. I won’t ever judge you for that.”

He nods, his other hand sandwiching yours between his other.

“Kinda freaks me out… all that water, and shit,” He laughs nervously, shaking his head. “Ain’t it deep?” 

“Not unless you go out really, really far.”

“Don’t people get pulled under waves?”

“It can happen, but if you’re safe and know your limits, you’ll be okay.”

“It’s just so… so different from the lakes we’d go to as kids, y’know?”

“It is, but it can be just as fun.” You’re taking your time with him, knowing how overwhelming it can be to jump into something you fear all at once, and quite literally, too. “But if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to go in. I can stay up here with you, we can just hang out, do our own thing. Or go up to the boardwalk! Whatever you wanna do, I wanna do.”

Gator’s quiet as he thinks, squeezing your hand. “If you wanna go in, don’t let me stop ya’. I know you’ve been lookin’ forward to today.”

You shrug, smiling warmly at him. “I was excited for you to see the ocean for the first time, that’s all. I can come here any time, but I won’t force you—“

“No, you’re not forcing me. Promise. I like this. I think it’s just the idea of gettin’ swept away that scares me.” He sounds so… small. Like he’s shrinking inside himself. 

You’ve seen Gator scared before, but usually it was trauma based. It wasn’t usually your average, rational fear of the unknown, and it’s unfamiliar to watch unfold, yet still deserves to be approached with caution and care all the same.

“Tell ya’ what, if you wanna try it out, I’ll go with ya’. Take it super slow, no pressure. If you hate it, we can come back up here. I’ll hold your hand if y’want, too.” 

Sighing loudly, he shakes off his nerves. “Should give it a shot, y’know, just to say I did.”

You try restraining your face from breaking into a grin, afraid you’ll scare him off from the idea.

The two of you make it to the water, standing on the very edge, where what’s left of every wave might reach.

“Oh… that’s… that ain’t so scary.” With hands laced together, you gently lead him into the water with you, inch by inch. 

Right now, the waves softly crash over your feet, and he’s startled at first by how easy it is to sink into the sand if you stay in one place for a while. But he laughs off his nerves, pulling you into the water a little more on his own.

“S’chilly,” he shivers, holding your hand tightly, but his lips are slowly curving upward. He’s got a pure, childlike wonder as he experiences the ocean waves for the first time. The waves rock over your ankles, adding a bit more pressure with each push of the water, but he’s not frightened.

“Opal, I’m not going out that far, you goof!” The two of you glance over to Bea and her partner not too far off; Opal’s already waist deep while Bea waves her off with a chuckle. She spots the pair of you, wading over in the ankle deep waves. 

“I think Opal’s part fish,” You joke, and Bea rolls her eyes.

“If she could, she’d live in the water like a dang mermaid,” She quips, glancing up at Gator. “How’s your first beach day goin’, kid?”

“Intimidating… but it ain’t so bad. Sunshine’s been makin’ it easier on me,” He grins to you, hand still gripping yours, but not so much with fear anymore. It’s more with certainty, just happy to be here, be anywhere, with you.

Bea smirks over at you, “She makes everything easier, huh?”

“Oh, y’all, shush!” You lean down, allowing the ocean to wash over your hand before flicking some water at them both. Bea scoffs out a laugh while Gator grows quiet. You worry you’ve done something wrong, until he looks back at Bea.

“Bea, m’sorry, I have to take care of somethin’,” He glances back at you, brows raised before leaning down to splash water back up at you. 

The water’s cold on your face, and you gasp. “Gator!”

“No, you do what you gotta do, kid.” She teases, laughing and wandering back to Opal. “Sunshine, you’re in trouble.” Meanwhile, Gator comes closer, but you back into the water further.

“Don’t you dare—“

“What? You started it,” He inches towards you, and you run back a few feet; that only starts a chase, with Gator sprinting after you as the two of you continue splashing each other. “Someone’s gotta finish it!”

Where the two of you run around and play is relatively open, the least crowded part of the beach. It’s like you’re kids again, teasing and taunting one another in pure fun, laughter rising loudly above the sounds of waves crashing and chatter among beach-goers.

Gator finally catches up to you, arms wrapping around you, laughing in your ear, “Got ya’ now, Sunshine.”

“I let you catch up.”

“Yeah, sure ya’ did.” Despite his eye being hidden by his sunglasses, his tone ensures there’s an eye roll paired with his retort.

Catching your breath, you admire the way the sunshine glitters across the water, but then it dawns on you. “Hey, did you notice where we ended up?”

“What?” Gator glances around and, oh— there’s water everywhere. The two of you are in up to your chests. At first, he tenses up, but you wrap your arms back around him.

“I’m right here, you’re safe, love.” Your voice brings him back from his panic, nodding.

“Yeah… yeah, m’always safe with you, Darlin’.” He holds you in the water, appreciating how warm you are in the cold waves. The water’s not rough out here, and the rocking is actually soothing to him. “This is really… nice.” He kisses your cheek softly, “Lil’ scary… but nice.”

“M’proud of ya’, Gator.” You kiss him, feeling his grin against your own, salt water dripping from his face. Pulling back, you check in, “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m at the beach for the first time, all our friends are here, you’re here, and also such a babe in that swimsuit,” You’re laughing, splashing him playfully again. His smile never falters. “I’’d say I’m doin’ great, Darlin’.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The day flew by quickly, spent between the beach and the boardwalk, and the two amusement parks. Out of everyone in the group, you and Gator were the only ones left, ending the night on the Wonder Wheel.

With the blazing July sun setting, and the ocean’s breeze, it was cooler up on the ferris wheel. You were both worn out from being in the sun and waves all day, and though you were looking forward to crashing in bed, you were enjoying the peace of this moment— in a stationary car, not the swinging ones— with him. 

The lights from the rides illuminate Gator’s face, sleepy and a little rosy, sun-kissed, but he looks so happy. He looks happier most days than not since moving out here. Even despite the heavy, life-altering news he received the week before, he was coping in healthier ways than he would have back in the Midwest.

But right now, there’s a different kind of calm radiating from him.

“I really needed today,” He breaks the comfortable silence, tearing his gaze away from the lights below to lock his gaze with yours. To this day, that soft expression he gives in moments like these still make your tummy flutter wildly. “Thanks, Darlin’. Sorry we didn’t get to talk ‘bout wedding stuff today.”

“S’alright,” You shrug, leaning into him while cupping the side of his face. Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone as your lips barely rest on his with a smirk, “We got time.”

[onlymurdersintheafterparty]

A Murder at the End of the World: Homme Fatale

FX has a new Murder mystery series and I’ve been avoiding it because I thought it was another true crime documentary 🤣 The show is described as a mystery series about a Gen Z hacker and amateur sleuth named Darby who is invited to a isolated retreat by a billionaire along with 8 other guests. When one of the guests is killed, it’s up to Darby to figure out who the killer is and stop them before it’s too late. Here is my recap and thoughts about the first episode. Spoilers ahead!

The series opens with Darby walking down a street listening to The End by The Doors which makes for a very creepy beginning to the series. Darby arrived at a book signing where it’s revealed that Darby is an author herself and has come to read from her book The Silver Doe. The Silver Doe is a true crime book that Darby wrote about herself and her lover named Bill on the hunt for a serial killer. Based off of how Darby has described this killer and that several women may have been their victims, we can assume that this will be the same killer that Darby will be chasing at the resort she ends up at with the other guests.

Darby’s reading is told through a flashback of her and Bill not only visiting but hacking into this suspected killer’s home. We learn that while yes Darby is a good hacker, she is lacking in discernment. From allowing Bill to park in the garage, to going into a basement of a house that she hasn’t even checked to see if anyone is inside, it’s clear she makes terrible choices. Not only did the two break in, they tore up the basement floors to try to see if they could find any bodies. AND THEY SLEPT THERE. Now I will give Darby props for discovering the stairs were redone to cover a buried body, but that whole scene was so anxiety inducing. I get wanting to be the first to crack a case but you can’t reap the rewards if you’re dead. When asked by an audience member what happened to Bill she refuses to answer so we know there’s a lot to unpack there.

At twenty minutes into the episode, we finally get into the main plot. Andy Robson, a reclusive billionaire and tech genius who Darby previously mentioned at her book reading, has contacted her. This already feels super shady, but especially so when his assistant shows up at her place and demands to be let in but can only be seen on the cell phone. Andy Ronson has invited her along with 8 guests to meet on a paid for retreat because he wants to meet all of their brilliant minds to discuss technology. Darby is hesitant but agrees after learning that Lee, Andy’s wife will be there. Lee is a hacker who Darby looks up to so there was no doubt that she’d attend the trip. It feels like a set up but we shall see. All these precautions taken just to board and the fact that Andy has been keeping tabs on her just gives me a weird feeling idk.

After a strange dream/flashback we learn that the guests have been taken to Fljot Valley in Iceland. I love a Good snowed in and isolated mystery and it’s giving me the same vibe as the HBO limited series The Head. But on to the suspects:

Martin Mitchell, a filmmaker who wants to make a film about missing Black women in D.C.

Lu Mei, a woman who builds smart cities in China, Yinchuan to be exact

Dr. Sian Cruise, a doctor who is researching colonizing the moon

David Alvarez, a venture capitalist born in Argentina

Ziba, an Iranian activist

Oliver, works with robotics

The mysterious Bill in question, Bill Farrah

Rohan, ???

Marius

Lee Andersen

Andy Ronson

Lu Mei’s assistant who never speaks

Todd

Ray

I’m starting to think Darby is an unreliable narrator with her Silver Doe book 🤔 What really happened with Bill? And Lee is giving me unfulfilled housewife vibes which is sad because Darby describes her as being brilliant.

After a dinner of introductions and being absolutely shook at Bill’s reappearance, the two end up having a small chat before both return to their rooms. I can’t help but feel that Bill will be the first victim because he said there was something he needed to tell Darby before leaving alone which breaks mystery/thriller/horror rule #1 to never go off alone,especially when you have important info to share. And sure enough, he’s dead. This sucks because he was such an interesting character and I wanted to see more of him and Darby together.

My first theory:

Darby was invited because she was needed as a fall guy or the murder was anticipated and they needed a sleuth but didn’t want to use the police. Lee and Bill knowing each other is very suspicious but it could very well be a red herring. Martin and Sian both seemed like fans of Bill so maybe they’ve met before and we’re either obsessed or had a bad encounter after dinner. It would be so wild if Ray did it on Andy’s command but the question then is how since he’s ai. But then again the room could have been rigged to be tampered with. I hate that Bill died without even hinting at who killed him because that would have given us something to work with.

All in all I’m liking the show so far and I’m glad to have a new mystery series to focus on. What do you guys think so far?

[eldragon-x]

okayy I'm gonna get into some other hcs I have regarding facets of Ford's identity because she's that tweet thats like "(looking at character) well you may not be [x] but you have a sense of alienation and thats close enough" to me and I heart projection. sorry this became a huge tangent.

Also I'm putting this explanation alongside the context of me basically genderbending Bill for funsies bc both of them are character archetypes that are improved by making them women to me. Also I enjoy thinking about them as foils and this is sorta relevant here.

Anyway in my beautiful mind Ford's aroace, see her talking about wanting to impress girls in J3 yet both the journal and the Book of Bill very much indicate that she Does Not give a fuck about romance and finds it utterly baffling. Also see how in TBoB Bill jokes abt her being "plansexual" because she only seems to be attracted to formulas and such which I will claim for my objectum Ford hc.

But I don't think she thinks about most of All That prior to living in Gravity Falls. Like At Most, Ford does have a line in J3 about being attracted to the strange and implying in TBoB that she's attracted to dangerous things, so I can picture pre-GF she might've had a thing for supernatural creatures but once she was actually In The Town, Surrounded By Paranormal Beings, the attraction just fell off. due to being aroace. And she didn't rlly worry about that part anymore atp because she was living alone in a paranormal town in the woods doing her research.

Then Ford's in her whole situation with Bill and of course there's a lot of layers to that and her admiration for Bill. But for the sake of This post I'm gonna say one of the layers is that she wants to "be like her". Which is the species + gender envy speaking. And maybe there's smth here with Ford being objectum and Bill's abstract appearance, but I think if there was attraction between them it was more from Bill's side while Ford was dealing with a cocktail of issues + not fully understanding aspects of her identity + Bill manipulating her.

I think during paranoia + portal era she mostly just Did Not Think About Anything She Had Going On due to the everything. And that kiiinda carried over into the show's canon era but being not actively in mortal danger or a suicide mission Does allow her to think a bit about how she feels about herself. Because she did spent 30 years in the multiverse which is a lot more diverse than just the earth not to mention societal norms. So she kinda knows she has Something going on regarding how she sees herself as a person.

So TBoB already dealt with the idea of like, giving Ford closure re: Bill and setting in stone that she's not an aspect of the Pines family's life anymore, putting her behind them and all that. And it's not that Ford Didn't have complex feelings about allegedly being a human man before meeting Bill, but there is a degree of worry because Ford used to look up to her and Bill did have an impact on her life. But I think she can come to terms w that her identity can exist seperately from Bill and she can just allow herself to be happy without suppressing aspects of herself just because Bill might've prompted her to think about them.

I also think maybe Ford wouldn't neccessarily be otherkin? Like maybe she thinks she'd want to be another species but once she comes to terms w being a woman it'd generally help her unpack things and alterhuman would be a more appropriate descriptor. Either way she just has a weird relationship with her humanity. Also Mabel would be ecstatic about finding out that Ford is her great aunt lol

gary i need to talk abt my transfem ford headcanons