#but I haven't forgotten and I still support them and will always continue to do so

[medicinemane]

You know, I haven't heard much news out of Iran (which worries me), but I want to say that I still firmly stand with the Iranian people

[lynnie-ee]

Inktober Day 3; Regrets.

╰┈➤"A relationship with Vil was all you could ever dream of, perfect and loving, but it seems like he doesn't want that anymore. Either way, he'll have to deal with the consequences of it; at some point, you had to move on, didn't you?."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 1.6k words.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

⤿

⤿

Loving Vil was like staring at the moon on a starry night. Beautiful, elegant, gracefully glimmering above anything or anyone, surrounded by stars but never being outshined by them. A gentle light that kept them on the right path, and that took care of them tenderly.

But cold, nevertheless. Distant, stern, perfect; a chill running down their spine when they were in his presence, as if they weren’t worthy of admiring him so closely.

The Prefect was well aware of their own flaws, as they were sometimes clumsy, sometimes impulsive, and sometimes too tired at night to worry about a night routine. Seemingly out of place next to Vil, the personification of magnificence, always sharp and confident.

Even so, (Y/n) was able to discover a new side of him, something that wasn’t possible to see through movie premieres and Magicam posts.

They got close after VDC; with the entire situation of his overblot and all of his issues, the Prefect offered their support to him one day, casually offering to listen to him if he ever needed it.

At first, Vil didn’t reach them, but then, on a bad day, he unconsciously walked all the way to Ramshackle. The housewarden of Pomefiore realised that (Y/n)’s kindness was genuine; they hadn’t been in his world for long, they didn’t realise the amount of power and success he had, and instead they saw him for himself. Maybe that was what encouraged him to pursue them in more ways than he intended at first.

He found himself falling in the arms of a magicless human, grasping every new part of them he got to know and cherish each of the sincere compliments they gave him with adoration and care. Holding them close, kissing their worries away, making sure they were healthy and content.

They were doing good, together.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

No matter how much (Y/n) tried to find him, there was always an invisible wall between them.

“We should break up.”

“…What?”

“We won’t work out; you know it as well as me.”

It all started a few days ago. A call from his manager, asking him if he planned to reveal his relationship at some point. Actors with partners lose popularity. They lose roles more often. They lose followers. It usually lasted for a few months, of course, but could Vil risk his downfall? Shouldn’t it be more difficult for him to ever think about leaving the Prefect? Shouldn’t he feel a pang on his chest at the mere thought of not waking up next to them? Shouldn’t he be able to picture himself sharing a future with them?

‘Perhaps this is just a silly romance that will forgotten in a few years. They’ll come back to their world and I’ll continue working as diligently as always.’

“I don’t understand.” The Prefect muttered, looking into Vil’s eyes, searching for doubt or hesitation, a wave of sadness invading them when they found none of it. They felt dizzy, the air of Vil’s room suffocating them as his words settled in their mind.

“It’ll be the best, for the both of us.” The housewarden stated, his words sharp but his voice compassionate. “You have always trusted me, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” They replied immediately.

“Then trust me on this, too.” Vil replied, one of his hands cupping the cheeks of the Prefect. “Let’s be honest, we’re both tired-“

“I’m not.”

“(Y/n).”

“I love you.” They muttered, their voice breaking. Vil was wonderful, supportive, patient, someone they couldn’t image themselves living without, at least in that world where they had no one else. When did they lose him…? “Don’t you love me too?”

“Perhaps that’s not enough for us.”

“It can be, Vil, just let me in. Let me understand you.”

Vil observed them briefly, (Y/n) standing before him as a complete mess that he didn’t find himself capable of fixing. He didn’t have time to play around, nor to introduce them into his world. He had decisions to make.

“I’m not sure you’ll be able to. We’re…different.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough?”

“I’m saying we may be better on our own.”

The Ramshackle student removed his hand from their face, now standing to gaze into his eyes, his message clear in their mind as they realised Vil just didn’t want to deal with them anymore. They weren’t some kind of famous singer or a wealthy artist, they were just themselves. And Vil was Vil.

‘It was bound to happen, at some point’, they thought to reassure themselves.

“I’m not going to beg you for anything else, then.” They stated as firmly as they could, even if the tears on their cheeks could indicate something else. “But I love you sincerely, and you won’t find that easily. I hope you can find what you’re looking for by yourself.”

“I wish you well, (Y/n).”

“I don’t believe in your words anymore, Vil.”

⤿

⤿

Loving (Y/n) used to be like a bright morning on a sunny day. Warm, inviting, tender towards anyone who could turn towards them, never rejecting the opportunity of lending a hand to whoever needed it. A gentle light that kept him away from the darkest days.

Suffocating, at times, making him wish for the night to arrive just to find solace in the familiar cold.

He believed it’d be more comfortable, going back to his usual starry nights where he shined as brightly as always. The memories of his time with the Prefect going away in no time.

Except that it never happened.

He found himself waking up and looking around for them. At night, he kept in mind to remind the Prefect to clean their face and take care of their skin, only for him to remember that they weren’t staying with him anymore. At school, he didn’t have anyone to hold hands when no one else was looking. At work, he received multiple compliments about his efforts and looks, but none as sincere as (Y/n)’s words.

And (Y/n) seemed to have disappeared from every place he was in.

They were still in Night Raven College, of course, but no matter how much he looked for them or how many times he asked Epel about them, they seemed to do an excellent job at avoiding him.

“You were the one who did this, don’t go after them now.” The first-year replied to him on a particularly stressful day.

He couldn’t believe it; Him? Missing someone he took out of his life by himself? Wishing to be with a person who didn’t belong to this world? Who couldn’t understand him- No, who he didn’t allow to understand him?

Then the holidays began. He went back home, and worked as usual, doing campaigns and assisting events, as glamorous as always, never showing his pain.

“I heard you got the role of the main character for your next role! That’s amazing, you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” An older actress congratulated him in the middle of a charity party, as she seemed to be the best person to spend time amongst so many wealthy people and royals.

“Indeed. I’m very grateful to have this opportunity.” He answered politely.

“I’m excited to see how it’ll turn out- Oh, isn’t that the Prince of Sunset Savana? I haven’t seen him at an event in years.”

“What?”

Vil turned around, easily spotting Leona among so many people, but his attention was soon dragged to something else, or rather, someone else. Someone who walked along him, hand in hand. Someone who used to hold his hand before.

“(Y/n)…” He mumbled unconsciously.

They looked stunning, but it wasn’t as if they were ever bad-looking in the first place. They looked happy, peaceful even when they were surrounded by strangers who seemed as curious as him to know what was his relationship with the prince.

Perhaps Leona’s arm around their waist calmed down in such an unknown environment for them. Or maybe it was the words he whispered in their ear when they seemed to get uncomfortable.

Vil couldn’t even imagine that Leona could be attentive to someone else, but there he was, looking at (Y/n) with love, taking great pride in presenting them as his partner to anyone that asked him, no matter who was it.

“Prince Leona! It’s been so long, how have you been?” The actress that accompanied him asked the beastman as soon as they approached.

“I’ve been doing great, as you can see.” He replied, proudly holding (Y/n)’s hand.

“It’s so nice to know you have found such a beautiful partner, what’s your name, darling?”

“My name is (Y/n), is such a pleasure to meet you.”

“I can say the same! Vil, Leona is your classmate, right? Have you met his partner before?” The woman asked innocently, oblivious to Vil’s irritated mood, even though he tried to mask it.

“Well, we-“

“We meet briefly at Night Raven College, but we’re not really close.” (Y/n) interrupted, as Leona grinned quietly next to them. “And it’s been a nice conversation, but it’s getting quite late, isn’t it?”

“Do you want to leave?” Asked Leona with his regular tone, but even Vil was able to catch a certain fondness that was unusual in him.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, Herbivore, let’s go home.”

“Goodbye then.” The Prefect spoke politely, gazing for the last time at him, his eyes now more confident than the last time he was able to look at them. “I hope you’re doing well, Vil.”

‘Well, perhaps I’m still stuck in the role of the villain, after all.'

⤿

⤿

[cowgurrrl]

Slow It Down Cowboy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this ended up being so chunky but I hope that’s okay

Summary: The wall [5.8k!!!]

Warnings: academic blackmail??, bad administrative decisions, an even worse parent, Joel comforting reader, more art talk, slight angst

As the sun sets earlier and the weather dips below the usual heat, things actually start looking pretty good. Andie, somehow, found time off of work and is coming home for a few days during the long winter break. You've gotten back to making art you actually care about now that you're in a race with Joel. All your students are settled and starting to come out of their shells, making more experimental art. Ellie continues to show up with cups of coffee with your name on them before anyone else can spill into your classroom, and you continue to text Joel. 

How much are you spending on coffee now?

I thought we agreed to keep certain things secret.

Joel Miller.

Hush. You deserve it.

In between lessons and at lunch, you'll manage to catch each other at the right time and shoot messages off as fast as they come in. He helps you fix a squeaky chair over text, and you help him set up a care package to send to Sarah. It's nice even though you haven't really seen him since the night of the gallery opening. Even things at the bar seem to be doing better, and you're making enough to not have to worry so much. But you're most proud of the list of students whose art will be shown at the winter showcase, Ellie's work among them. 

You make a big deal about it and send in an announcement to be read in the morning, congratulating all the students. You even go out of your way to announce it in all your classes and offer extra credit to any student who shows up to support their classmates. Surprisingly, your rag-tag group of moody teenagers actually seem keen about the opportunity. Things are going well. You're happy, healthy, financially stable(ish), and your guards are down for the first time in a long time.

You're working with quiet music playing over your computer when the knock at your door sounds during planning period. You stand to open it, but before you can, you hear a jangle of keys and the popping of the lock. Principal Martinez walks in, squints at you, and immediately turns on the overhead fluorescent lights that haven't been used in God knows how long. They buzz in protest as your eyes adjust. 

"Hey!" You manage to sound cheery even though she looks like she means business. "I'm assuming you're here about the winter showcase?" You ask, and the line between her brows deepens.

"The what?"

"The showcase? A couple of my kids from the art club got accepted to have their artwork shown in a gallery downtown. It was on the announcements this morning. I can send you the information about when the event is." You offer. Something clicks, and she shakes her head now that she knows what you're talking about. 

"Oh, that," she says. "No, I'm not here about that." 

"Am I in trouble?" 

"Not exactly." She says, and you feel panic pool in your stomach like an unwanted visitor. "Dalton Green's father has brought his grade in your class to my attention."

"He hasn't turned anything in to me since September. I can't grade an empty page," you say, hoping that she's as aware as you are that it's the beginning of November. "I sent an email to his father and football coach back in October, but I still haven't seen any work from him."

"Mr. Green says he's positive his son has turned in work. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it?" 

"No, I've graded and given back every single assignment from the semester." 

"Let me be clear," she says. "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten to put his grades in? It's an easy mistake to make. You could always just input them now so that he's eligible to continue playing. You wouldn't want to bench a perfectly responsible young man. Would you?"

"Ma'am, are you suggesting I lie about Dalton's grades just so he can keep playing football?" You ask, your panic quickly turning into frustration. 

"It'd be such a silly thing to fail something as simple as art. Especially when the funding for the school comes directly from our team's ability to perform. Sometimes, as teachers, we have to make sacrifices to ensure the greater good of our students." She says. It never fails to surprise you how condescending people can be when it comes to your job. Martinez will be gone in a year to fight for a place on the school board, and it's clear she's not pulling her punches even now. Still, you're floored by the ask. Never in your career have you been asked by a principal to lie about a student's grades. 

"I'd be willing to make certain accommodations, but I'm really not comfortable doing that. If he wanted to turn something in, I could find a way to give him half credit." You say. Her face changes almost imperceptibly before she straightens up with a cynical smile. 

"Well, I think since you had the idea, you should be the one to call his father and tell him the good news," she says it like it's a reward, but it feels like more of a punishment. Your good mood comes crumbling around you as she looks at you expectantly. You have principles as a teacher. This is one of them, but how far are you willing to go to protect it? "I have a meeting with some people from the school board, but please let me know what conclusion you and Mr. Green come to regarding Dalton's grades." She says as she walks out of your room, not even bothering to look at you over her shoulder as she speaks to you.

"Fuck," you mutter as the door closes behind her. You stare at the phone and think about your options. You can't let her walk all over you just because she's your boss, and you won't compromise your values just so the football program will thrive. But you also really don't want to make this phone call. If Dalton's dad is as pleasant as he seems over email, you can't imagine this going well. "Fuck." You say again as you pick up the receiver and search your records for Dalton's dad's phone number. You find it, and in a burst of confidence, dial the number and listen to the line ring, secretly hoping he won't pick up. 

"Green." His dad says in place of a greeting, and you take a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr. Green. This is Dalton's art teacher from school. I understand you had some issues regarding his grade in my class?" You tread very carefully, but even then, he scoffs.

"You're damn right I have some issues. Why are you failin' him? He's gotta pass to play football, and Principal Martinez said you'd get it sorted." 

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm calling," you say. "Dalton hasn't turned in any of the assignments I've given out since September, and because of that, I've been unable to give him a good grade. However, I can make some arrangements to give him half credit for every assignment he turns in before the end of next week. That should give him more than enough time between classes and practice." 

"He told me you lost his assignments."

"No, sir, I haven't received anything from him." You say. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you almost hope the call dropped before he can respond. 

"Are you sayin' my son's a liar?" 

You spend the next twenty minutes being berated over the phone, not even allowed to get a word in without being cut off. Several times throughout the call, you think about hanging up and unplugging the phone, but you know that'd only make it worse. God forbid he show up at the school and humiliate you in front of the other staff or, worse, students. No wonder Dalton has issues if this is how his father speaks to people. If your day wasn't ruined by your encounter with the principal, it certainly is now. You handle it as well as possible until he gets near the end of his rant and takes a deep breath.

"I just can't believe they'd let a teacher as horrible as you work there. What right do you have to teach anything?" He says, and that's what really gets under your skin. Suddenly, hot tears spring in your eyes, and your throat feels like sandpaper.

"I don't know." It is the only thing you can think to say.

"Call me back when you have a real fuckin' solution and not whatever bullshit this is." He spits before hanging up the phone. You put the receiver down and bury your head in your hands, trying your best not to cry. Your molars buzz, and it feels like your head is swelling with pain. His insults and backhanded comments echo in your ears, and you can't hold the tears back any longer. 

What a fucking shit show. You know Martinez won't do anything about the verbal abuse unless you're willing to lie about grades, which is a ridiculous request in the first place. Dalton's dad won't back down, and you can safely assume Coach Sanders is next up on the roster if you don't do something soon. Why can't you get a kid to turn in a fucking piece of paper? Are you really that bad of a teacher that you're losing an argument with a seventeen-year-old? Is this the hill you want to die on? 

You think about going upstairs and seeking refuge in Mrs. Tomlinson's English class, your favorite coworker and the one who hides the good snacks in her desk, but you know she has a class, and you don't want to embarrass yourself. Andie is seven hours ahead and probably asleep. You're friends with people from the bar but not good enough friends that you could call them crying about a situation like this. The realization that you're alone in this makes you more emotional, and you have to stifle your sobs behind your hand. 

You jump when your doorknob twists open again, and you half-expect Martinez to be there with an I-told-you-so look on her face. You quickly turn so your back is to the door and wipe the tears on your face. You can't stand to be humiliated again today. When you turn back to see who entered your classroom, Joel's big brown eyes soften when he sees how upset you are. 

"Honey," he murmurs, and you almost start sobbing again at his soft tone. "What's goin' on?" 

"I didn't know you were coming today." You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together. He walks over and drops his toolbox on a nearby table so he can pull you up from your chair. 

"Supposed to be a surprise." He says as he tucks you into his chest. You hug him tightly and let him rub your back in the quiet of your classroom. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and the cold wind sweeping through the hill country. He should be wearing a jacket, but he's not, and you can feel goosebumps on his skin. For a minute, you just cling to him and cry, staining his shirt with tears, but he doesn't care. He's patient and shushes you gently as he adjusts his hold on you to bring you closer. You bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your head. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask into his skin. 

"I found your missin' piece for the projector. I thought I'd come install it for you so you'd stop fallin' off things tryna get it to work," he says. He leans back just enough to swipe your hair out of your eyes and rests his hands on either side of your face so you can see him. You want to turn away because you know you look like a crying mess, but he doesn't flinch. "There she is," he whispers fondly when you meet his eyes. "Your turn. What happened that's got you all upset?" He asks, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch stray tears. 

"Just… a really shitty call with a parent." You say, not wanting to get into specifics just yet. 

"Anythin' I can do?" He asks, and you shake your head. Just his presence is enough to make you feel better. His big, warm hands holding you like you're precious is a big plus, too. You run your hands over the muscles hidden by his shirt and take a deep breath. 

"Just this," you say, and he smiles. "'S a very nice surprise."

"I might've had ulterior motives." He says sheepishly, and you chuckle.

"What are your ulterior motives, maverick?" You ask. You honestly don't know where the nickname came from, but it's stuck around. You've heard it used by old southern women when talking about someone who's independent or doesn't follow the rules. "There goes maverick again!" They'd say when their unruly son would go speeding by in the kitchen. You think the private name suits him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice. You almost fold just because of how he's looking at you through his long eyelashes. Almost. The age-old sound of your projector whirring reminds you where you are, and you straighten up.

"Not here."

"After I fix the projector?" He negotiates, and you laugh at how quickly he bounces back.

"After you fix the projector and we're not on school campus anymore." 

"Deal," he says as he turns away from you and toward his toolbox. "You should time me. This might be the fastest replacement I've ever done."

"You're really that motivated now?" You tease, the levity between you two draining the dredges of your bad afternoon from your brain. He smiles and digs in his toolbox for the right screwdriver. 

"For you? Of course." He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile, and he winks at you. He's barely standing on a chair before you grab his arm and stop him.

"Wait," you say. You're not really sure what the plan is, but you also don't care. Joel, however, looks confused. "I found an old step stool in my storage closet the other day, but it's on the top shelf. If you can get it down, that might be a little safer."

"You've had a step stool this whole time, and you're still climbin' on tables?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "You're gonna put me in an early grave one of these days."

"Quit that," you laugh as he steps off the chair. "I didn't have time to get it down whenever I needed it, and I just forgot about it until the other day. C'mon, I'll show you where it is." He sighs dramatically but follows you into the dusty storage room filled floor to ceiling with various art supplies. It's hidden by a suspicious-looking, windowless door just off to the right of your classroom. You think it might've been used as a tornado shelter when the school was much smaller and younger, but since then, it's been renovated into a personal storage room. 

The second the door closes behind him, you turn around, push him against it, and kiss him before you can change your mind. He gasps into you like he wasn't expecting this but quickly grabs your waist, anchoring to you and kissing you back feverishly. You really had planned on making him wait until you were safe, far away from school grounds, instead of pulling him into the nearest private space like a teenager. But you figured if Martinez can break the rules, why can't you? 

Your hand snakes through his hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, drawing a content sigh from Joel. His lips are a little chapped and firm against yours. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and you want more. You tip your mouth up to him to kiss him deeper, and he grips your hips hard, his fingers grazing the skin just under the hem of your shirt. You test scratching your nails over the back of his neck, and he shudders beautifully under your touch. In one move, he switches places with you and pins you between him and the door. 

With him in control, he slows down just a little, kissing you softly like he's got all the time in the world. You've realized Joel likes treating you like you're made of porcelain. Like all it would take is one wrong move, and you'd fall apart under his touch. He lets you make the first move every time, tying his hands behind his back until you say the word in an impressive show of self-control. Even at the art gallery, when there was so much tension between you, you thought you'd choke on it; he wasn't the one who initiated. The knee-jerk reaction of flipping your positions against the door to take control is his first show of power, and you like it. What do you need to do to get him to do it again?

The bell sounding through the intercom breaks you apart, and you groan at the intrusion. Nothing is keeping you after school today but you aren't ready to separate from Joel just yet. You rest your head on the door and stare at him as you vaguely hear the sounds of rowdy kids flooding the hallways. His lips are swollen and a little pink, and his hair is messy from all your pulling. 

"What?" He questions your staring and you shake your head.

"I just like looking at you," you say. "Your hair is also a mess, but that's a completely different story." 

"And whose fault is that?" He laughs and musses his curls back into place. You help with a few strands at the back and smile when everything is tame again. 

"Good as new." You say. Now, it's his turn to peer at you, and you give him a confused look. You swipe under your eyes as if there's mascara stuck there and fix your hair, waiting for him to give you the all-clear, but he just chuckles.

"I can't believe you pulled me into a closet to make out." 

"Me neither, honestly." You admit as the both of you dissolve into delirious laughter. You wait in the closet for a few more minutes so the hallways can clear out (and you can kiss a little more) before you finally exit, checking that it's clear and then opening the door wider for Joel. When he sees his toolbox sitting on the desk where he left it, he sighs and glances between you and the ceiling. 

"I'm never gonna get to fix that goddamn projector." He mutters, and you laugh as you pass in front of him and pat his shoulder. 

"Next time, maverick." You say. His grumbles disappear as you pack up your stuff side-by-side in silence. It's nice to not feel like you always have to fill the space with conversation. It's enough for papers to rustle as they land in your bag and his tools to clink as they find their proper homes. The hallways have gone quiet, and the eerie silence of an empty school slowly creeps up on you. 

Joel's boots squeaking catch your attention as you unplug your computer and start turning off various lamps around the classroom. He stands in front of the whiteboard where you have a big print of a Rothko painting displayed for today's art history lesson. He tilts his head as he looks at it like he's trying to find some hidden meaning or perspective, and you smile to yourself at the motion. 

"Lots of people think it's not much to look at." You break the silence from the back of the room, and he looks at you over your shoulder.

"I didn't say that."

"I know. I'm just letting you know what certain historians say," you say. You finish with all the lamps, and the only light coming into the classroom is the little bit of natural light streaming in from the windows near the ceiling. Stray dust spins in the air as you join him in looking at the poster of the Rothko, and you try to imagine what he's thinking. 

It's a little unnerving, like most of the ones Rothko made towards the end of his life. The vast darkness on the top half of the painting is daunting, while the gray at the bottom helps ground the viewer, at least a little. If you look closely enough, you can see the various washes and brushstrokes he used to create the painting. Obviously, a lot of skill and time went into something like this, even though not everyone wants to see it. "It's hard to know what it meant to him. It probably didn't mean anything, honestly. He wanted people to have sensory experiences with his art, so you only get as much as you put into it." You explain, and Joel nods but doesn't look away from the painting.

"Is it the surface of the moon?" He asks. 

"What makes you say that?" You interrogate, trying to hide your excitement at getting to hear him tell you what he thinks of art. 

"Well, it kinda looks like I'm standin' on the moon and lookin' out into space." He says as he runs his finger over the divide between the two colors. 

"Where's the Earth, then?"

"Maybe I'm on the dark side of the moon." 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe the Earth is just too far away, and I can't reach it, but I know it's there. If the moon started spinnin' faster or somethin', I could see it, but maybe it's not for me to see..." It's incredibly profound, even if he doesn't realize it. You see where he's coming from based on what you know about his past and almost want to reach for his hand, but you don't. "But I don't know. What do I know bout art?"

"A lot," you answer quickly, hating how he talks about himself like he's stupid. "You know a lot. That was a really good analysis." He hums noncommittally and bumps your shoulder with his. 

"What bout you? What's it to you?" He asks, and you sigh as you look the colors over again.

"A wall and the night sky." 

"A wall?" 

"Yeah. It's either protecting me or keeping me in, but either way, it's there, and there's not much I can do about it. I could stay where I am and never find out what's beyond it and be safe, or I could climb the wall and never be the same again. I wouldn't know what's behind it or what's out there— that's why it's all black at the top— but maybe that's what's so interesting about it. The unknown." You say, and Joel hums. 

"You should be a teacher or somethin'." He says, and you laugh and move to grab your backpack off your desk. 

"It just might be in the cards for me," you say. "What's Ellie doing tonight? Don't you have to pick her up?" 

"She's actually going to the movies with some friends tonight." He says, beaming with pride, and you gasp dramatically.

"Is she really?"

"Sent her with twenty dollars and everythin'."

"Oh, that's so good! She's doing so good! I knew art club would get her out of her shell." You clap your hands, and he nods, smiling.

"She certainly ain't shy anymore. It feels like she's always on the phone with someone these days." He's a little nostalgic for the little girl who used to cling to her dad, and you make a sympathetic sound. 

"Don't you worry. I'm sure she'll want to hang out with her old dad during winter break."

"Old?!" He parrots as you usher him out of the room, your keys jingling on your arm. 

"Her words, not mine." You say as you walk out into the empty hallway with him and lock your classroom door behind you. He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath but doesn't push you for any insider information on Ellie. You like having your secrets with her, and as long as she's not a threat to herself or others, you'll keep those secrets until she's ready to tell him. 

You walk out to the parking lot together to catch the last few rays of sun scattering across the sky and smile when you see that Joel somehow managed to park close to your car. He loads his tools up in his truck bed while you throw your backpack in the backseat, but neither of you gets in your car immediately after things are settled. Instead, you wander back over to his truck and lean against one of the doors. 

"So, if Ellie's out with friends, what are you doing for the rest of the night?" You ask, and he smirks, stepping into your space. You think about scolding him, but the parking lot is practically empty. Plus, you like having him close. In the orange light of dusk, you feel safe next to him and his truck. He quirks an eyebrow at you and looks serious. 

"Are you askin' me on a date?"

"It's not a date."

"Is this the same thing like you weren't gonna kiss me, and then you did?" He teases. You roll your eyes and push off his truck, putting your arms up in defeat. 

"I didn't realize Joel Miller hated spontaneity so much. Fine, I'll stop doing it." You start walking back toward your car, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back before you can get far. You smile when your chest collides with his and look up at him. 

"Now, I didn't say all that," he says. "'M just surprised. You're gettin' ballsy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," he says as he leans forward like he's about to tell you a secret. "I think it's pretty hot, actually." He whispers lowly in your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck and making your face hot. You shove at his shoulder, but he just laughs and grabs your hand. "What? You don't like me callin' you hot?" 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" 

"I ain't hearin' a 'no.'" 

"Yes, Joel, I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?" You finally relent, and he shrugs with every ounce of sass.

"Maybe," he says. "I also wanna hear what you were thinkin' for our not date."

"Oh, something super romantic." 

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Whataburger meals and milkshakes." You say, and he makes a play at his knees giving out under him. 

"A woman after my own heart." He groans, and you roll your eyes. 

You could take separate cars. It'd probably be easier for getting home and take away an extra stop, but you don't really care about that when you climb into the passenger's side of his truck. He doesn't seem surprised by your decision to ride with him and rests a hand on your thigh the second he pulls out of the school parking lot. He asks about your day, painting, and even if you've heard anything else from Henry as he drives. You rant a little about Principal Martinez and ask about his day, so he gets a turn ranting about headers and structural issues. You're not exactly sure what he's talking about, but you nod and listen anyway, and he doesn't critique you for not knowing. 

When you get to Whataburger, you have to scout to make sure there are no teenagers you recognize before going in. Of course, he opens the door and lets you order first like a gentleman, but you elbow him out of the way so you can pay before he can even reach for his wallet. By the look on his face, you would've thought you ripped a cookie out of his hands. "It's my turn!" You say, but he still looks shocked when you hand him his orange and white striped cup. You choose a booth near the back and continue talking about your days or recent developments until your food comes, and then you talk in between bites. It's not romantic, but it is comfortable. 

He updates you on Sarah's progress in medical school and even shows you pictures on his phone of the last time the three of them were all together. He looks lighter when he's with the both of them like all the pieces of his heart are bound in those girls. You like to think it is. He tells you how he's looking at grants for small-business owners in Austin and is eligible to apply for a good amount. "'M just nervous I won't get any." He says, and you shake your head.

"They've got insane amounts of money they're looking to give to hardworking people. I bet you'll be a millionaire by the end of this bet." You say, and he chuckles as he pops a fry in his mouth. 

"What bout you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"How's the search for a gallery goin'?" You take a deep breath at his question and shrug.

"I don't really have anything to submit just yet, but some places are taking rolling submissions, so I can send something in whenever. I just want it to be good." 

"'M sure it will be." He says, and you give him a look. 

"You haven't even seen any of my work. What if it's awful?"

"Then I'd lie and say it's the best thing I've ever seen." 

"So you’re a iiar." 

"At least, I'd be a considerate liar." He says. You're about to start arguing with him about it when a pair of familiar eyes meet yours across the restaurant. Before you can even think about a tactic to get out of the situation, she's already up and walking toward your booth.

"Oh, shit," you mutter, and Joel's eyebrows furrow until he finds who you're looking at. His face falls exactly the same way you're sure yours did.

"Hi!" Marnie greets as she lands in front of you. "I haven't seen you in a minute!"

"I know! I've been meaning to text you about getting drinks, but I keep forgetting!" It's a lie. A considerate lie, but a lie nevertheless. 

"Oh, you're too sweet. We'll set somethin' up," she says as she turns to Joel. "And you! I haven't seen you since Sarah moved. How is she?" Oh, shit. How does she know you and Joel? He recovers quickly with a charming smile and a nod.

"Yes, ma'am. She's doin' real good up in Boston. Keepin' outta trouble and everythin'." 

"And Ellie? How's she doin'? She still makin' art?" 900,000 people in Austin and countless Whataburgers within 100 square miles, and the person who walks into the one you're in is the one you used to work with at school. Not only that, but she knows Joel's kids. She knows Joel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah, she's still doin' art. She's good at it. She's seein' a movie with some friends from school tonight." He says, and Marnie's eyes light up at the mention of the high school while Joel tenses.

"Oh, my gosh, how's the new classroom? I completely forgot they renovated that old teacher's lounge a couple years ago." 

"It's good. The equipment's a little old, but nothing's fallen apart yet. You'll have to come see it sometime."

"We'll have to find a time!" She says, always insanely cheerful. "Well, I'll let y'all get back to your meal, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't come over here and say hello to you two. Joel, please tell the girls I said hi."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel says politely. With that, Marnie turns and walks back to her waiting husband and says something that sounds like, "I know them!" Your food is suddenly cold and unappetizing when you look at it, and your stomach is in knots. The warm bubble around you and Joel has burst, and you're left in the stark light of the truth. "D'you wanna go?" Joel whispers, and you nod. 

He takes your trays and throws away the food before opening the door for you to walk out into the cool night air, avoiding Marnie's stare the whole time. He doesn't reach for you or help you into the truck. He barely looks at you until you're in the safety of the cab. The world is spinning around you, and alarms are sounding in your brain. What the fuck just happened?

"How do you know her?" You ask Joel, staring straight ahead, and he swallows hard.

"She was Sarah and Ellie's science tutor," he says, and your eyes flutter shut. "How do you know her?"

"She was the science teacher at the high school during my first year there. She left to go to a different school after that, but we were pretty close."  

"So, she knows you're a teacher at the same school my kid goes to."

"And she knows Ellie does art, so she knows she would be one of my students." You slowly piece together how bad this could be. You got caught having dinner with the parents of one of your students. If Marnie says anything, word could travel through the district until Martinez hears about it. You'd be in much more trouble than you already are with her. You could be accused of giving Ellie special treatment and violating school policy. 

"Fuck." Joel mumbles, mirroring your exact thoughts, and you nod. 

"We can't do this." You whisper, not wanting to admit it, especially after such a nice day with him. He doesn't protest. He feels the gravity of the situation. You want to put your hand over his. You want to hug him. You want to comfort him the way he comforted you, but you can't. 

"I know." His voice is even and controlled like he's choosing his words carefully, but you can hear the disappointment in his words. You can't go back to an hour ago when you were laughing and pulling him into storage rooms. You have to stay where you are. You have to stay safe. He is the personification of your wall and you have to be okay with not knowing what’s beyond it.

You can't do this.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

[half-oz-eddie]

Journaling Billy is so personal for me.

Billy with a gratitude journal that he writes in every time something good happens, or someone does something nice for him.

He got the journal from a nurse at the hospital post-starcourt, who thought it would be a nice way for him to pass the time, while also lifting his spirits and helping him realize how much love and kindness is around him, even if he doubts it.

It's just a blue, soft cover bound book, but he humors the nurse because she's got warm, pretty eyes and reminds him of his mom.

He uses it often, even after leaving the hospital.

Steve catches him writing in his journal one day, and Billy tells him it's fine if he reads the gratitude journal but not his diary.

Steve, of course, is dying to see what's in the journal, what Billy considers nice, and what good things have been happening to the love of his life.

Aug 1, 1985 Everyone came to see me. Even those kids Harrington always babysits. That's nice, right?

Aug 5 Harrington brought me some food from some burger joint. It was good. I guess he's nice even though I was kind of a dick to him.

Aug 21 Harrington showed up to drive me home. I don't know why he's being so nice to me. It pisses me off because I think he just feels sorry for me. I'm probably using this journal the wrong way but I don't care. I can't talk to anybody about this. I'm not feeling that grateful for shit today.

Aug 25 Max helped me with my pain medication. I thought she hated me. She acts like everything's fine. I have to admit I’m grateful what happened only stays in my nightmares and I wake up to a different reality.

Aug 29 Harrington called to check on me. Offered to come over and play cards. He doesn't have to keep pretending. I like the company, though.

Sept 10th Max tried to stay home from school to look after me. I'm doing a lot better so I didn't need the help. I still don't understand why everyone's being so nice after what I did. Sept 14th Felt strong enough to go out for some air on my own. Saw Sinclair and that other kid. Think his name's Dustin. They were on their bikes. They waved and asked how I was doing. Told them I was fine and they rode off. Do I deserve their concern? Sept 15th Sinclair came back while I was on the porch. Asked for Max. I told him he couldn't be here because of Neil. We waited for Max a few houses down and talked about basketball. He's trying out for the team so I gave him some advice. It was a nice conversation. Didn't feel forced at all.

Sept 20th I told Lucas I was sorry for what happened that night. He said he'd forgotten all about it. I know the little shit was lying, but I guess he forgives me. That was cool of him.

Sept 29th Lucas made the team and thanked me for the advice. I don't feel like I did anything.

Oct 4th I'm feeling better than ever. Driving around on my own again. Nobody seems to blame me for what I did, and everyone's nice everywhere I go.

Oct 11th Went to see El. She's always kind to me. She's like the little sister I never had. She made me some waffles.

Oct 15th Saw Harrington again. It was warm so we went swimming in his pool. I really missed the water.

Oct 29th Haven't been writing much down. It feels like I'm saying the same things over and over. Everyone's always nice to me. Dad's not bothering me anymore. I feel like I have a lot of support around me. For once I feel safe. Oct 31st Went to a halloween party with Harrington. First time having a beer in months. Got a little too drunk and we kissed. He didn't seem to hate it. I didn't either.

Nov 9th Finally talked to Steve again after the kiss. He asked if I wanted to go steady. I said no at first, then changed my mind. I'm glad I did.

Steve smiled as he read every entry. Every few days, Billy's entries were longer and longer. He talked about things that made him smile, people he met, and how much he appreciated the simplest things. It was an amazing transformation. He continued to read the entries, his eyes widening when he read the most recent one. January 12th 1986 I'm falling in love with Steve. I was hoping he’d say it first but he hasn’t said anything. Maybe I’m too hopeful. He treats me like he loves me too, I think. But I’m not sure. Steve quickly closed the book, feeling like he'd violated Billy's privacy by reading something he hadn't known before. "Why so quiet, Steve? You read yesterday's entry, huh?" "I—yeah. I thought maybe you wrote it in the wrong journal."

"I didn't. I was gonna tell you, I just...I dunno. I didn't want you to think I was trying to move too fast."

Steve laughed. "You have no idea how relieved I am."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Billy, I've been in love with you for weeks."

Billy snorted. "You're such a sap, pretty boy."

They shared a kiss and Billy wrote in his journal about how grateful he was, to love and be loved.

January 16th On August 21st last year, I was wrong. I have everything to be grateful for.

▪️▫️▪️

A little something to show my gratitude for reaching 400 followers. I appreciate all of you ❤️

Also tagging some friends I’ve met here that really belong in my gratitude journal for all the kindness they’ve shown lately and their posts just make me smile.

@shieldofiron @monsterpegger001 @dragonflylady77 @harringroveera @bigdumbbambieyes @brightside-of-the-upsidedown @thatgirlwithasquid

[dropintomanga]

Given - There's No Going Back and It's Going to be Okay

I finished the last arc of Natsuki Kizu's given and it's a testament on trying to move forward despite the anxieties you may face.

With Given potentially becoming a professional band, Ritsuka Uenoyama decides to help out a rival band called syh, led by Hiragi Kashima, as the latter wanted to perform a song that Mafuyu Sato's ex-boyfriend, Yuki Yoshida, wanted to do. Tension arises between Mafuyu and Uenoyama as both appear to be going in totally different directions, music-wise. Mafuyu appears to lose his voice, but Uenoyama invites him to a concert that syh is peforming at. Uenoyama is determined to channel what Yuki wanted to play before he died. Mafuyu is hesitant in attending the concert because he feels that things will change so much and relationships could be shattered.

He tells a now-rejuvenated Ugetsu Murata, who has become a better person after finally breaking up with Akihiko Kaji,

"I'm afraid we'll never be able to go back. When he talked to me about actually debuting, I was actually really, really happy. But if I choose music, I know I won't be able to turn my back on it again. Even if that means sacrificing love. And if I don't choose music, I know, no matter what, that I won't be able to face him exposed without it. I can see us breaking up either way. If I go to the concert now and listen to the music, I'll decide to either abandon music or our relationship. I know it'll drive me to a permanent decision.

Just like you had to choose between music and Kaji."

Ugetsu replies.

"If that's the issue, then you can't go back either way. Regardless of what you choose or don't choose, everything is going to change. Even this moment right now. There's no going back the way you came. Besides, choosing to stand in the same place is draining too.

So anyway, what I recommend is to go as far as you can!"

While Mafuyu continues to hesitate, Ugetsu goes on to say.

"Also Mafuyu, haven't you forgotten about his feelings? Before you go deciding everything on our own, maybe you should hear what he has to say.

But...you've given this a lot of thought on your own, Mafuyu. And that's pretty damn amazing."

Once at the concert, Mafuyu becomes scared, but once he sees that Uenoyama perform the song that Yuki helped wrote, he finally admits that he wants to sing and still be in love. Mafuyu didn't care anymore. With music, Mafuyu can always find a way to ease his grief and anxiety.

I know people talk about the point of no return when it comes to starting a relationship, but relationships often change drastically. I love the display of anxiety portrayed by Mafuyu. The person dealing with it often believes they're the only one who has to deal with it themselves. They don't try to talk to a supportive partner/friend about it because they're afraid of being criticized. They're not sure that they understand their concerns.

You never know until you ask. But the asking is always the hardest part. And the future is always scary.

But recently, I wonder how scary will the future actually be. Sometimes, people do say some outlandish things about how bad things can get. Yeah, it will be bad. And I believe that people are more resilient with the help of those around them. Just like Uenoyama being there for Mafuyu. Reading the final arc of given makes me realize how much people can be inspired to take on anything when people come together to do activities like create music.

We need those types of communal activities in a world that wants to devalue art and portray people as entirely cruel. Communal activities heal so much pain. Let the love for music remain, right?

What should be given is how loosely tied together we are all. We're all living with fears and anxieties. And we deserve to be given chances to hear compassionate words that recognize our innermost vulnerability and propel us to move forward with joy and no regret.

Change is inevitable, but suffering shouldn't be a given.

Also, what an incredible manga. given is such a wonderful series. I highly recommend reading all 9 volumes.

[mae-dwrites]

A Bundle of Heliotropes - Chapter 2 - Apprise

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| Ao3 | Wattpad |

Now Marinette hadn't been avoiding her parents, nope siree! She wasn't strictly talking about the bakery, her commissions, school work, and every other thing in between when she was with them. She wasn't avoiding them, nor was she avoiding the growing elephant in the house.

Wait. What elephant? There's certainly no elephant, because for there to be one in her home her house would need to be bigger! Unless you're talking about the metaphorical kind, which there was none. That would require tension, and avoiding something.

Marinette does not avoid things. No, never even! She handles things head-on!

Which is why this is a tactical maneuver! As her soulmark could possibly reveal who she was despite the magic, but by how much? That is unknown, so to show or not to show. To tell or not to tell. To lie or not to lie…

Marinette hated lairs���lies; everyone knew that. And being Ladybug kinda went against that, she’ll admit. The pure irony made her cry from laughing when she first started this whole Protect Paris thing. Tikki had tried to reassure her but it didn't really help most of the time, Marinette had gotten over it through the years.

“Marinette! Alya’s here,” Sabine called from the other side of the trap door.

“She can come up, thank you maman!”

“Hey Mars,” Alya said as she came up. Marinette looked over the documents Mlle. Bustier had sent her this morning. Mlle. Bustier was putting all the budgeting for the class on Marinette, much like she had been for the last few years.

Which she shouldn’t even have to be doing since all her friends and her should be in different classes for their career-based tracks, but with Akumas and the fear of causing more: students were forced to stay in their same classes. Which sucked for the most part, i.e. Lila and Chloé always being on her. Well, Lila more so than Chloé since last year.

“Hey Alya,” Marinette didn't look up at her friend, still looking at the notes.

“Girl you need to relax, let me help.” When Marinette didn't say or do anything Alya continued, “Better yet why haven't you told Mlle. Bustier to stop dumping this on you?”

Marinette finally huffed and pushed herself away from the desk space, “I did last year. She threw a fit at me. Remember that?”

“Mlle. Helper? That's what that was about,” Alya gapped at Marinette.

“I thought you knew that,” Marinette frowned, she had told Alya, hadn’t she?

“You were very irritated after that Akuma that you told Alya you would talk to her later,” Tikki popped up. “You might have forgotten to tell her if you didn't message her.”

“Okay,” Marinette mumbled to herself, almost a grumble of sorts even, as she turned back to the sheets in front of her.

Their class hosted two major dances this year and were going to host another one in the middle of May. They also had multiple fundraising events, their entire year had been doing events left and right to get enough money for them to go somewhere out of France. Marinette had come up with the idea that they spent this year raising money so that next year they could fundraise for some extra cash. They would go somewhere much cheaper and close by at the end of May.

Next year though? They still hadn’t decided, but the staff were supporting them thoroughly.

“Marinette,” Alya’s hand gently took the papers from the Eurasian. “You for one need to put your foot down, and hard this time. Even if it means we need to fight an Akumatized Bustier twenty times. You have so much already, I don’t want you to overwork yourself more than you already do.”

Marinette frowned back at her friend, who just frowned at her harder.

“Are you going to tell your parents?” Alya finally asked, her true reason for randomly popping by this time.

Marinette’s lips became a tight thin line, she wasn’t going to lie to Alya but she knew what she was going to say. Marinette’s head rolled back and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think about it or deal with it for that matter. She didn’t want to deal with anything she was dumped with these last three years honestly.

If she had never become Ladybug would she be unfit for her soulmate? Would they still work? Or maybe if she wasn’t Ladybug, wasn’t the Guardian, was just Marinette, whoever was her match wouldn’t be hers. Maybe she’d be with Adrien or Luka, perhaps it would be platonic instead.

Marinette’s lips went from tight to droopy, she swallowed as she thought over possibilities. She got pulled from it with a light squeeze on her wrist, she opened her eyes. Her vision now blurry, she blinked away her tears before looking at her friend.

Alya had a small, reassuring smile on her face as she carefully stated, “I think it would be better for them to know you’re Ladybug..”

This admittance from Alya was not unfamiliar to Marinette, they’d had conversations surrounding identities many times before. Marinette didn’t tend to handle them well, that was a recurring theme that made her avoid it more so. When she had asked Alya for the Fox Miraculi back she had thought it had made it clear where she stood on identity sharing.

That request had later led to a fight between the girls, Alya pointing out all the ways Marinette picked and chose her rules, and how she saw the difference between Chat Noir's involvement to that of either of them. It had been tense, to say the least.

But eventually, Marinette came forward and explained her side more thoroughly, though was careful to still keep the secrets the Order wished her to. It only left apologies and tears, and perhaps a bracelet.

Marinette’s gaze shifted to the bracelet on her best friend’s wrist before looking back up to look her in the eyes. The previous times they’d talked about identities it had been much calmer, but with soulmates coming up more and more Alya had taken to approaching the topic more.

Alya listened more and didn’t push Marinette past what she said she couldn’t handle, she dropped it when she clearly was over it. Alya’s face still held that same smile, so full of patience she didn’t have before. There was already acceptance in her eyes, acceptance for whatever Marinette said now.

Marinette opened her mouth to speak but closed it to clear her throat, having become dry in her emotional moment and lack of speaking. Alya let a quiet laugh out, earning her a half-hearted glare from Marinette.

“It wouldn’t be the worst plan,” Marinette finally said with a laugh. She didn’t like it, not one bit, but what choice did she truly have? Her parents weren’t pushy by any means, they respected her space and privacy. That had been one of the few things that made being Ladybug really easy, but they would want to see. If they didn’t realize it immediately they would put it together eventually.

“It really wouldn’t be,” Alya grinned.

“Perhaps you should plan how to tell them,” Tikki spoke up again.

“I think that is a swell idea,” Wayzz expressed from Alya’s shoulder. Alya smiled down at the green Kwami before looking over at Marinette, “That sounds good? Maybe it’ll help keep you calm?”

Marinette nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, we can do this.” Marinette wiped her eyes with a sniff. “That sounds good, let’s do it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Pollen cried from above them, making the girls laugh.

-

“This isn’t going to end well,” Marinette mumbled to herself. “They’re gonna throw me out,” she whined.

“That’s completely irrational. What happened to the confidence we had earlier?” Alya asked from behind her.

“I know, I know,” Marinette groaned before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t going to be a disaster. If it will Bunnix come out now.” Marinette held her breath for a moment. Alya groaned behind her.

“Marinette,” Alya grabbed Marinette by her shoulders. “I know this is hard but I think this would be very beneficial for you. Your parents love you, and no matter what they will support you.”

Marinette’s face still held a frown, “What if they’re disappointed?”

“Dis-disa-” Alya howled at the thought, “Do you know how our parents reacted when they found out you let us be temporary heroes? They were kinda mad at you for a moment but it also gave them some perspective of who you were. And after the worry mostly subsided they were really proud of us. Anark doesn’t shut up about it to other parents! So your parents are definitely gonna worry but they’ll be proud and support you.” Alya paused, holding Marinette’s hands, “Just start with your mark.”

Alya smiled at Marinette, it made Marinette’s chest go tight. Why couldn’t she be so sure? Why was she so scared? She knew those things, yet she was still so very terrified to tell her parents.

Three years. Three years and they never knew, or at least they never came to her about it. Three years of hiding, of following a rule that even Marinette sometimes found stupid. Three years of imagining telling them, ranging from welcoming her and supporting her to making them move or being told it was too dangerous to have her around. From the most realistic of outcomes to the worst, even if they were very unlike her parents.

Her parents loved her, she knew that.

Marinette held her breath for a moment.

This would be fine…yeah. Yeah! Bunnix would have stopped her right here and now if it didn’t go mostly right.

Marinette straightened up and gave an affirmative nod for no one but herself. She finally opened her room door and made her way down the steps. Marinette could sense the other Kwami making their ways down phasing into hiding spots, she felt Tikki in her pigtail and she knew Wayzz was likely close to Alya.

“Marinette! Alya,” Sabine greeted before asking, “are you staying for dinner? Staying over tonight?” The woman looked up from her pot, she tapped her spoon on the pot before putting it on the dublé. “Of course you’re welcome to but please check with your mother, I really don’t want her to relive her panic that one time.”

“Oh I’m just staying for dinner, and I already messaged her a while ago,” Alya reassured the older woman. “Marinette actually asked me to.”

Marinette felt her poke her in the back, she probably would have shot her a glare if she hadn’t been so nervous. She took a deep breath, “Yep uh, yep. I actually wanted to, to talk to you two with Alya.”

Marinette’s insides roared with trepidation, and she’d only said she wanted to talk!

“Of course sweetie,” Tom said beside Sabine. “Dinner’s almost ready, you want to set the table?”

“Of course,” Marinette made her way to the cupboards the familiar actions helped to ground her emotions. Alya tried to help her but the Dupain-Cheng household refused to let her, instead she was forced into a seat by Sabine as Marinette placed her plate and Tom came dishing her up. Alya crossed her arms in (lighthearted) annoyance of the sweet family.

Under the annoyed look love came off her, which was enough for the family of three.

When everyone was seated on the island and they’d all had some to start Marinette took a deep breath. She sent Alya a look that made the older teen feel the need to straighten up, just to simply show she was there whenever she was needed.

“So Maman, Papa, as I said there is something I wanted to talk to you about,” Marinette started, gaining her parents' full attention. “I believe it would be best for you to have an empty mouth.”

This made her papa nervous, she could tell as he tried his quickest to finish the bite in his mouth. Sabine though slowly lowered her fork with confusion a small frown on her lips.

Marinette swallowed and opened her mouth to speak but had to close it to center herself. Alya what she assumed to be a reassuring nudge with their knees. Marinette looked up at her parents with resolve.

“You know my birthday happened this week,” she watched her father grow concerned while her mother seemed to unintentionally lean forward. “Well I got my mark,” she trailed off for a moment, “And the thing is that I want to show you, but I believe you need to know something before I do.” Her voice almost sounded like it was tailing again but wasn’t quite.

Her parents stared at her as she sat there, not doing anything. She’d already put the start out, she’d gotten their attention on the matter and that meant no going back.

“Maman, Papa, I’m,” she struggled, gripping her fork tightly, “I’m, I.” She grew irritated with herself. It’s not that hard to say it, two words. That’s it, two simple words. Two simple, extremely life-changing words.

“Marinette, dear, it’s okay if you’re not ready. We’ll wait however long you want, you don’t ever have to show us,” Sabine reached out for her daughter’s hand. She had barely even grazed her hand when Marinette pulled away and firmly stated, “I’m Ladybug.”

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut. Finally, she’d said it, but the silence following was deafening. Moreso than any Akuma she’d fought, worse than getting a recipe wrong, worse than having to restart a project, worse than-

“Oh baby,” Sabine’s voice cut through. “Oh my baby,” she said softly rushing to her daughter. Arms encompanced the girl making her draw a quick breath, no sooner her father was quick to follow suit. Marinette swallowed as she slowly opened her eyes, staring at the empty seats. Her heart raced and she felt a bit lightheaded.

Overwhelmed. That’s it, she’s just overwhelmed.

Not by her family though, no not them. Saying it, her panic had come that’s what.

Marinette focused on the feeling of her parents' arms around her, the pressure that came with their love, the smell of the meal they’d made, the bakery coming off of them in waves…

Her maman murmured words she couldn’t quite make out into her hair, one hand smoothing her hair as the other held her. Her father’s giant arms encompassed her as she felt light tears drop onto her head.

A hand slid into hers. Alya, her mind supplied. Her best friend gave a gentle squeeze which she gladly returned. Marinette let her eyes shut as her own tears slid down her face, tears of relief. She took a deep, happy breath.

“My strong baby,” she made out before her mother kissed her practically on the ear. Marinette didn’t mind, she’d take it all.

Sabine slowly pulled away making Tom to take it as a cue. Sabine held her daughter’s face in her hands looking over her face seeming to be searching, searching for the trick, for the prank, for the lie. There was none, and no all she saw was her little girl. Who’d turned into a strong woman, had become…a solider of her people.

“Maman?”

Sabine’s eyes became glassy.

“I’m fine dear. What about you? How are you?”

Marinette swallowed giving a weak smile, “A lot better right now.”

Sabine squinted at her, “Tell me the truth.”

“It is,” Marinette insisted laughing wetly. “I didn’t like it, lying to you.”

“Oh sweetie,” Sabine said so simply, so thick with words she couldn’t ever know how to say. She looked over to Alya and smiled, “I’m happy you had someone.”

Alya sat up with pride, but not without blinking rapidly. Tom bombarded her with a hug as he wailed, “Thank you for being there for her Alya.”

Alya laughed, “I wasn’t there the whole time.”

“It doesn’t matter, we mean it all the same,” Sabine said still smiling. The woman sighed looking back at her daughter, “I suppose you’re gonna show us missy?”

Marinette laughed, “Of course Maman.”

---

Damian had been very careful these first few days of having the mark, but sadly his brothers’ occasional nonchalant attitudes had infected him at some point. Now that meant something a little different for every family member, but for Damian that meant being sure; leaving him to slowly become truly careless.

Why? Because Jason was busy tracking someone in Crime Alley, the person had left him on quite the chase. Tim had holed himself in the cave the past two days, soon enough he’d pass out or Alfred would cause him to. Dick was currently in Blüdhaven for the next few weeks. And Father was busy with WE as to be expected.

Damian was safe for the time being, he smiled to himself as he decided what to wear for the day. He didn’t want to change as he had promised Titus that he would take him to the park today, and his friend knew what those words meant very well.

His neck prickled making him straighten up. It must be Alfred, he must have slipped in and he hadn’t noticed. It was fine, Alfred wouldn’t say anything. And he could keep it a secret, and-

Cassandra stood behind him with a wide smile. She’d seen, she knew, she’d tell Stephanie and then it would be over.

“Cain,” he said carefully. “Don’t tell anyone.” Her face became impish, Damian felt his stomach drop. His eyes glanced down to her hands, she was holding her phone.

“You didn’t,” Damian's voice became strained as he eyed the device. His panic seeped through more than he ever allowed, but that didn’t matter because Cass would know regardless.

His sister stood before him in a calm excitement. She didn’t need to answer, she knew she didn’t need to, Damian already knew she had. His brothers would pester him, Dick would be hurt he didn’t tell him, they wouldn’t stop talking about it…They wouldn’t stop talking about it. He hadn’t even told Jon, Jon would be upset he wasn’t told.

Damian stood staring at her in panic and shock, Cass stood staring back with an almost eerie calm.

“You didn’t share,” she said simply. Damian’s phone started ringing.

Oh. Oh Damian was in for it.

-

Damian glared at Cass from across the table.

He’d turned his phone off for the day so he wouldn’t answer Dick, but Tim had tried to chase him as he left with Titus. He thought he could stall but not even an hour of being at the park with Titus and Jason strolled in. Damian had barely made it out of the park without being spotted.

Damian suspects Tim had called Kon which led to Jon finding out. Jon had flown to Gotham and face planted on his car. Now Damian needed a new windshield and hood.

He could feel Jon glaring at him as he sat right next to him. Dick had driven right back to Gotham and was currently giving the saddest puppy dog eyes from across the table. Damian ignored him as he stabbed his brussels sprouts.

He was going to tell Jon, maybe even Cass, and his brothers could learn it when they became significantly insufferable. Damian tried to tell Jon that he was planning on telling him, but Jon was focused on the fact that he wasn’t told and learned from Kon.

“What’s it look like,” Brown whined, dramatically stretching her arms on the table. It’s all she would say it seemed, Damian was beginning to wonder if she was finally going insane.

“Stephanie he doesn’t have to show us,” Father said for what seemed like the twentieth time. His father while he was composed was obviously just as hurt as Dick was, Damian could’ve sworn he’d seen him sending heartbroken looks at him.

“We’ll see it eventually,” Todd said, looking smug at the thought. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Oh how Damian wanted to leap across the table with his fork.

“You didn’t have to show us, just tell us that you got it,” Grayson spoke up still looking forlorn.

“When did this happen?” Drake asked, sadly he hadn’t passed out yet like Damian hoped. Damian spent a moment trying to incapacitate him with his mind-will alone. Perhaps he could convince Raven or another hero to teach him spells without father finding out.

“Only this week, it hasn’t been very long,” Damian stated plainly.

“And you couldn’t tell me,” Jon’s voice woven with betrayal on par with Dick and with offense laced in. Damian certainly felt bad for not notifying his closest confidant, and was slowly feeling bad he didn’t say anything to Dick. The only thing stopping him from succumbing to the feeling was that he saw it as his brother moping.

“Dude you’re like second on the list who gets to know,” Brown stated with a mild glare.

Jon frowned as he snapped back, “That would make you third then.”

“Excuse me?” Stephanie squinted at him slowly moving her hand across the table to reach for a utensil.

“I’m his best friend, you’re a family friend,” Jon said, almost seeming to want to start a fight at the table. Damian felt a headache coming on, and by the look on Bruce's face so was he.

“That’s how you started out, and I was here first you’re a newborn,” Brown fumed with a predatory look.

“Stephanie,” Bruce strained from his seat.

“Best friend,” Jon said, his voice suddenly dropping his usually predominant Metropolis accent to encomancing his Kansas’s one thickly.

“Jon I will call your father,” Bruce hung his head not even wanting to take in the visual of his not-child and nephew arguing.

“He’d agree with me,” Jon mumbled just loud enough for Damian to hear.

“No he wouldn’t Jon,” Damian said bored. Being upset with Cass would not solve his problems and Dick and Jon would get over it eventually.

Splat.

Damian looked down at the table to see Duke wide awake with mashed potatoes, gravy, and mushroom sauce dripping down his face and onto his suit. Damian frowned serving his brother; Duke, as he always has, does the dayshifts but he also stayed up for night classes he took college classes. At least he tried to get sleep between his schoolwork and working to patrol during the day, unlike Tim.

When Summer Break came Damian would be sure to take day patrols, while they weren’t his favorite he didn’t want to leave Duke to handle all of it. Jason occasionally joined which made plenty of rouges and lowlives think twice when they saw him or heard from others. Damian could probably put a few hours on the weekends to help lighten the load now while school was still in session.

Dick had rushed to help Duke almost immediately, the only reason Damian hadn’t gotten up himself. Alfred was soon with them presenting proper towels for the mess.

“Duke, what did I say about getting rest?” Selina’s smooth voice announced her presence, along with the happy babbling of Helena in her arms.

“Sorry, I’m trying, just today was busy,” Duke yawned at the end of his sentence. His suit appeared fine and with Dick’s quick action to wipe up any goopy mixture of the food it was safe to assume nothing important had been ruined. Alfred took the messy towels to dispose of them, he nodded to Selina as he passed her.

Damian got up and went to his stepmother, “Allow me.” He said simply referring to his sister.

“You don’t have to Damian,” Selina still handed the baby to him with a fond smile at both of them.

“Of course I do. She is my sister, and you shouldn’t have to be the sole caretaker. You’ll become too drained to properly take care of her,” Damian stated with a firm nod to Selina before making sure the baby’s head was well supported.

Selina's smile was soft as she kissed the tops of both their heads, “Thank you Damian.”

Damian hummed back taking his sister to his seat, he was glad he had eaten most of what was on his plate so he wasn’t trying to eat while he held his sister. Jon looked at his sister with the same wonder he had seeing anyone just younger than a toddler. His father kissed Selina as she sat down, they briefly spoke of their daughter before moving on to other topics that Damian ignored to give his attention to his sister.

She babbled excitedly to him trying to move her hands. Damian smiled at her while nodding seriously, “Fascinating, anything else to look out for?”

Helena reached her hands up trying to reach his face, which he gladly aided in her attempt to reach up. She tapped his nose and dragged her hand down to his cheek.

“She’s so cute,” Jon cooed forgetting both his food and his betrayal from his best friend.

“Very,” Damian agreed as the infant continued to tap his face. He gave a kiss on the top of his sister’s soft head, she made noises as though she was trying to speak again.

Damian’s smile softened, maybe he was thinking too pessimistic about it in the name of being a realist.

[sentenceme-leni]

Saturday. Minimum 6 sentences.

---

Rumpelstiltskin tugged on her sleeve.

Belle didn't turn to look up at him, aware of her weakness for pleading brown eyes. "I said two hours at least, Rumple," she told him, keeping a soft, ladylike smile on her face.

Personally, it felt like they'd been stuck at Granny's for days already.

Sadly, any clock would say otherwise.

"Besides," Belle continued, "we haven't even congratulated the birthday boy."

Rumpelstiltskin glanced over at the knot of people around David. Thomas and Philip would scatter if he interrupted their little chat. Midas would be courteous enough to give some excuse before leaving his fellow king to the Dark One.

The dwarf would be nasty, though.

Snow's quarrelsome friend had never forgotten nor forgiven his experience as fowl. In Rumpelstiltskin's mind, Grumpy should be thankful he hadn't been simply snuffed out of existence for his trespass; but some people just couldn't let go.

"Don't glare so," Belle admonished him, threading her arm through his as if she could contain his ill mood physically. "That's the one Nova is so fond of."

Rumpelstiltskin arched an eyebrow. His estimation of the exiled fairy lowered significantly. "Can't she get better taste?"

"Hush, you!" Belle punctuated the reprimand with a quick slap against his arm.

As he had no real interest in the love life of their maid, he complied without protest. "I'm still not breaking into that little council."

"I'm sure they'll be perfectly behaved. This is David's house, and we are his guests."

Rumpelstiltskin gave her an amused glance. "I'm hardly afraid of some show of disrespect. However, between Midas and George, they'll have put the brave shepherd into a mood for politics." He made a show of shuddering. "I've had enough of that nonsense."

Since Regina had vacated the mayor's position, Storybrooke's self-appointed major players were vying for support. Snow White's husband was a favorite target.

The boy was smart enough not to back anyone too openly. However, he had questions with tricky answers and was in need of advice... and he had somehow come to the conclusion that Rumpelstiltskin was a source of both.

"It would hardly be politic to turn the man of the hour into some beastie."

"Come, Rumple. You like David better than that."

"If he makes another suggestion about how I should put in my bit at the council, no, I don't."

"The town council?" Belle chuckled at the idea. "I love you, Rumple, but you're not a team player. You'd have them dancing to your tune in a week."

He smiled at her quick summation of matters. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Are things truly that bad?"

Now that they were forced to stay in close society with everyone else, they had to worry about details like this. He missed his solitary castle so much!

"Oh, I'm certain they'll end up begging to reinstall Regina," he told her confidently. Whether their former mayor would accept the post... He must admit he had no idea. "But for now, it's a bother."

Belle hummed in agreement. "They're acting like grasping fools."

"Does that mean we can leave them to their foolishness?"

Belle fixed him with a glare. Perhaps he had sounded too eager. She had been looking forward to this party for days. There weren't a lot of opportunities to socialize in this world, and she had always enjoyed mingling. "Two hours, Rumple. You promised."

He grumbled. "There's not even a dance floor."

Events were improved by a chance to dance with Belle.

"True. Nobody thought of that." Belle rose on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "We can dance at home, though."

"We often do."

"Then we can do... something else."

Now that was an interesting idea. "Any suggestions?" he asked innocently.

The heat in her eyes settled that question.

"That's not incentive to stay, my dear."

Belle gave a playful shrug, reaching up to touch his chest on the pretext of straightening the lapels of his coat. "The anticipation makes it better sometimes."

He loved this woman.

"You mean the dancing?"

Her blush didn't stop her from caressing down his front. "Of course."

The End

18/05/24

[hitohiro-fnf]

Headcanon: Kurono Hari x Pregnant! Reader.

It's my first post, I'll accept friendly suggestions and corrections, at least the ones that sound friendly to me because I'm a crybaby (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥���)

English is not my native language.

Hari finds out about the pregnancy

• You knew how it had happened, and it was obvious, but what you didn't know was when it happened. After all, Chronostasis and you always looked out for each other.

• Or that was what you two believed until those two red lines appeared.

• You were nervous because you didn't know how to tell him, you were afraid of how he would react, apart from the fact that he and you hardly interact since he was always busy with his "boss"

• You felt stupid for being jealous of Chisaki Kai, even though he was a man and straight... Is he?

• At that, the sound of the door of the Department being opened put you on alert, and even more so when you heard the monotonous voice of Hari who left his coat on the porch that was next to the door. The only thing you thought was "I'm screwed" and you were.

"__ Is something wrong?" He asked from the other side of the bathroom door. You nervously answered positively, while trying to hide any trace of the pregnancy, but it was too late when he opened the door noticing how you were in the bathtub trying to open the small window that looked out, and in his hands a pregnancy test.

• «Shit» you thought when you noticed that you had forgotten to put the lock on the door.

• Hari quickly walked towards his wife, while she continued trying to open the window, and when he least expected it, surprise! The pregnancy test was snatched from your hands and now an albino boy looked in a trance at that object processing the information.

"Windows error" You said after a few minutes in a tense silence that you tried to soften with that small comment, something that made Kurono react and start to frown.

"Honey?"

"Are you...?" He didn't complete the sentence due to your small sobs.

• He hugs you tightly trying to show support, and calm you down. Despite not proving to be the best husband, he still loved you even though he wouldn't prove it either. When you calm down and he's wiping your nose, he'll wait for you to tell him something, but what did he want you to say? He already saw what he wanted to hide.

"When?"

"I don't know, since Monday I've been feeling bad and I haven't been able to go to my online classes..."

"Thank God" she was grateful when she heard about the lack of your classes, since despite having married young, she wanted to continue with her university studies even though she had to do them at home at the request of her husband and, currently, Overhaul's right hand man.

"I think they won't accept my classes anymore if I keep missing them."

"I don't see the problem, you'll have my son, that's more important than those stupid classes."

"... It's my future, Hari!"

"Now it's time to take care of our son."

• You were going to argue with her, but with the unfriendly face of her husband, you lost the desire to start imagining a fight where he lost and you won with some good arguments. Although that wasn't satisfactory if it didn't happen in real life.

Five months later

• Even though your belly was a bit swollen due to the growth of that son or daughter of yours inside you, you couldn't go outside. You were being watched by Hari, even though you weren't at home, and every time you went out you would run into one of your coworkers by chance. By chance! It's not like they're following you, no, of course not.

• Even though you found an excuse to go outside and not have an interrogation at night, it was difficult. Because every time you eat almost the entire contents of the refrigerator and furniture, if not everything, the next morning there are new foodstuffs, even things you never thought existed, like a square watermelon or peanut butter-flavored cereal.

"When are we going to see the baby?"

• That was your greatest wish, that both of you go to the hospital for an x-ray to see the baby and at least know the sex or how many there were going to be. You already imagined that because you didn't know, you would be in a room with doctors for ten hours at the time of delivery to have more than one baby and get home, taking into account that you only have one crib. God! You needed to know to at least prepare yourself mentally and not be afraid of feeling more than one creature coming out of your vagina.

• So you told your husband to go to hell, without him telling him, and he left his apartment with his bag to the hospital since he asked one of his ex-colleagues, who is a doctor, to make an appointment so that he could know the sex of the baby as well as the number.

• What you didn't expect was that your husband would be in the office waiting for you, since he was lucky to ask his boss for permission to go out to resolve some personal matters, who reluctantly accepted.

• Now you were on that stretcher with the cold gel on your swollen, not to say fat, belly, while your husband's cold gaze was on you.

"Congratulations! You're having twins." The doctor said, congratulating both first-time parents.

• And... Did you hear that? That was you having a crisis, but hey! You'll have a nice family with the person you love, it's not that bad.

Nine months

• How fast time goes by, your belly is bigger and your hormones are raging. There is not a moment when you don't bother Hari in the middle of the night to ask him for a strange food mix. The poor guy sometimes, most of the time, stays at Yakuza to get a break from you, although there he is not safe with the anti-germ boy either.

• Luckily, the night your water broke was right at the time Chronostasis got up to go to work, so what do you think Chronostasis? More work!

• They had to go to the hospital, where luckily no one suspected their identity and they continued with their lives.

• Inside the delivery room, you were giving all your strength while Chronos watched from afar as you gave birth to his first child. Why was he far away and not next to you? Easy, he didn't want you to break his hand and he thought you could do it alone since, according to him, you were a strong woman.

• After eight arduous hours where your throat began to hurt from so much screaming, and Chronos who left for five hours at work, you were able to finish the labor and observe with tears in your eyes those two little ones who made you suffer like never before.

"You are a pain in the vagina" You said to both babies, who are breastfeeding from your breasts full of milk.

• Chronos watched from a corner at his children and his wife, thinking about how beautiful you were and that you will no longer have online classes and you will depend on Him, although if you try to leave being financially stable, he will have the children to keep you with him even though he does not like it very much since he wants you to stay voluntarily and not out of obligation.

"This one will be called Sirius" You named one of your children after one of your beloved favorite literary characters.

"Sirius?"

"You wouldn't understand, honey" You answered simply.

"Then his name will be Ryuk"

"Ryuk?" This time it was you who asked.

"You wouldn't understand, honey"

• both of you will undoubtedly be somewhat... Different parents, but who will love each other until you ask for a divorce... Or him.

[allylikethecat]

Hey Ally! I’m wondering if you have any recommendations for angsty gatty fics/authors? (I’ve personally coined you the queen of that very specific sub genre haha) and in general, did you have a favorite fic you read (regardless of fandom) in 2023?

Hi! Yes! There are many talented Gatty writers in this fandom and I am so grateful to get to share the same space as them!

Some of my favorites are:

Literally anything and everything that @lookedlikethebins who can be found on AO3 as andfacedown has written - everything hurts SO GOOD

I've also been really enjoying @sundrownsthehouse who can be found on AO3 under the same name.

It's Only Green Where You Water by an anonymous user has absolutely broken me in the best way and I am still obsessed with it even though it hasn't been updated since April - I hope the mystery author is okay! (They have a few other fics listed in the author's notes as well that are also incredible!!)

@0ceanxey3s is another author I really enjoy - and can be found on AO3 as 0ceanxeyes it's more of a general / friendship dynamic between Fictional!Matty and Fictional!George compared to a romantic one but wow do they manage to hurt me in the best way!

@betweenthings2 that can be found on AO3 with the same name has also written some lovely angsty fics!

As always, my all time favorite fic i read in 2023 was Poses by @vinylandcoffeecollection - this is literally my favorite fic in the entire Gatty tag and I have reread it way too many times.

There are SO MANY lovely talented writers in this fandom and this tag and I am sure that I've forgotten some as I just did a quick scroll through my bookmarks tag on AO3! I hope that you enjoy some of these if you haven't read them already! In addition to Gatty I read a lot of Hockey RPF - particularly Leon Draisaitl / Matthew Tkachuk - if that's something you're interested in let me know I can send you SO MANY recs lol Thank you for your kind words about MY writing and for your continued support! I'm so honored and grateful that you've been enjoying my little sub genre of pain and suffering 😂 I hope you have a great rest of your week and thank you again for reading!!

❤️Ally

[one-vivid-judgment]

Hello! I just wanted to kind of throw in my two cents on L&L. Did I find it in my specific TanFang fic search? Yes. Are their chapters my favorite so far? Also yes. Are they the only couple I like in this fic? NO!! I am loving ChainPun and MickMatt. I desperately want to know what they were doing with the dice. I would read the fuck out of a story of just them, or just ChainPun. I really want to see what all ChainPun can get up to. I love BeerKluen. Kluen drove me a little batty in the show, but he wasn't awful, and I love their dynamic here. (Also, Title gave me whiplash this year, between Kluen, Drake's BF (wandee goodday), and Phi James (kidnap).) I hadn't thought to ship them before, but now I love it, so thank you. (If you did want to give them the spotlight, I'm here for it, but I adore QToey, too.)

I just want to let you know that I love this story and all the pieces, and no matter what you decide to do, even if you take it down, I'll still have enjoyed this thing you made, with all the couples and story lines and new ships. And pet play PhumPeem.

So, because I don't always come across the way I mean to, this is meant as supportive and encouraging, even if you don't continue the story, or make some drastic change.

P.S. I love Fai in this. And the fact that Vegas and Porsche run the club.

Thank you for making this. Have a great week! 💕

I'm actually gonna cry, this is so sweet 😭😭 Thank you so much for your support, this means the world to me!

So, after very long consideration and discussing possibilities with a few people here and on my TWT DMs, I'm absolutely NOT deleting L&L. I'll try to wrap up the TanFang storyline as nicely as possible, and if I happen to come up with an interesting possible plot line I could give them after they make up, then I'll keep them there. If not, they'll stay in the fic, but as background characters. I haven't forgotten about the one comment that mentioned the possibility of Matt and Fang becoming therapy buddies in the future, or Fang just making more friends in the community (which, considering he's literally the most detached from the main friend group, is not out of the question at all 😭), so that could be nice to explore!

At the end of the day, AouBoom and TanFang are not at fault. Twitter people just be Twitter people-ing. Then again, there's nowhere for them to go if there's no storyline for them. So far, in the notes I have on my phone about the fic, all I have for them are ideas for BDSM scenes, whereas with ChainPun and MickMatt I have plot points and a story/theme I want to explore with them 😭😭 So yeah, I'll see if I come up with something for them as I write their final chapter(s), but if not, they'll take the backseat!

If that happens, I still don't know whether I'd focus on BeerKluen or QToey 🤔 Cause both have something about them that makes me wanna touch on them: BeerKluen bc Kluen and Matt are gonna trauma bond and become buddies and I may have given Kluen a more complicated backstory than I anticipated (I'm so sorry y'all JSJSJS); and QToey cause they are already established, but not in the BDSM scene, so they would face different issues aside from the 'getting together' side of things! Maybe I'll explore the one I don't pick on a different fic, since this BDSM AU is gonna become a series and extend to more fandoms I'm afraid 😭😭 Blaming my Only Boo mutuals for talking me into having KangMoo and TaeYos here.

Again, thank you so much for you support! I can't express how glad I am that my readers are so kind and understanding 💙💙

[laurfilijames]

*bare with me because I'm doing this on my laptop and I have not figured out how to use emojis on here:(*

It took everything in me not to go off when I first saw that ask. Laur gave you grace because you might not have had bad intentions but I honestly do not care because most of what you said did not have to be in that ask.

"Will needs better-coping mechanisms than putting his dick in her..." I'm not going to argue with your opinion, however, I think some of you have forgotten the "fiction" part of fan fiction. It is literally fiction, its only purpose is to bring the creator's imagination to life. Y'all have to stop going into everything as if it's supposed to be real and relatable to you. Yes, there are going to be relatable elements that resonate with you and those moments are amazing, * you should cherish them by mentioning them to the writer in a reblog :' *, but that doesn't mean they're supposed to think or act the way you would. So, please remember this the next time you're reading a fic :)

"yeah it's great but communication is better." I'm excited to tell you how wrong this is (pertaining to Will and the reader's relationship ofc) because I've gushed about it to Laurie in a reblog! Will is a man of few words and throughout most of the parts what you see as regular sex scenes is actually Will communicating with the reader! It's unique to them. It's easier for them to understand what the other is thinking or how they are feeling through physical touch! We see their conversation through their pace when they are feeling rough and fast or soft and low. I haven't gotten to pt. 9 but almost always Laurie still gives us an insight into how they communicate with words! I could talk about this for hours but that isn't the point of this ask :)

Now with all of that being said, the first half of your ask was irrelevant and could have been kept to yourself or a friend if it bothered you that badly lol. You could have sent an ask saying, "I never want Breathe to end!" or "How many more chapters of Breathe are we going to get because I never want it to end?!?" and she would have loved that, but instead you decided to be an asshole :( #dobetter

Now my dear Laurie *que emoji* I am so proud of you and everything you've accomplished with not only "Breathe" but also the other stories you've so graciously shared with us!! despite this bad apple the rest of us know and appreciate how hard you work and all of the thought, care, and passion you put into your creations! You handled that anon like a true girl boss, but I don't like when people shit on my home girls so of course I had to put in my two cents :) Anywaysss I hope you have a great day girlie pop!!

Oh my dear Ray 🥹💗 you are so wise and kind and eloquent with your words.

I don't need anyone going to bat for me but please know I appreciate it all the same. I could've responded very differently to that anon but it wouldn't have done anyone any good.

I am over the moon that you continue to recognize all of the things I subtly weave into my series. You hit the nail on the head again with pointing out that the main type of communication and love language between Will and Reader is physical touch. I always strive to come up with a healthy mix of spice and emotion in my smut scenes and I am on my knees thanking you for clearly seeing that time and time again 🫂💗

This situation has only made me realize how incredibly lucky I am to have such amazing supporters and friends and am feeling emotional (in a good way!!) that you and so many others appreciate what I do here with my smutty silliness 🥹💗

(Cue all the emojis!)

[aspenscore]

Channel Update - June 20, 2024

Hey y'all! Just wanted to give you a quick update on what's coming up in the next month or so, and give you a bit of info about what's going on behind the scenes. TL;DR at the end.

First off, I'm really hoping to have AuDHD episode 5 out sometime tomorrow, although I can't make any guarantees for reasons I'll clarify below. For those wondering, I usually aim to post on Fridays (but that is much more of a guideline than a rule), and I definitely won't be able to always put out one video per week (although that is generally my goal).

Secondly, the reason I definitely won't be keeping up with that goal this month and likely throughout the summer is because I'm moving! This is a really exciting time for me, but unfortunately it's also a very busy time, so my ability to log onto the server and to edit videos is pretty limited right now. On top of that, my wifi situation is going to be pretty spotty for at least the next two weeks, which not only prevents me from being able to upload, but also prevents me from logging on to even record anything in the first place, so unfortunately I'm gonna be lagging a bit behind with my progress on some of the projects and events I've been working on. This does not mean I'm not going to do them, it just means that it's likely going to be a trend for the duration of the AuDHD SMP that I will be uploading content from a previous month during the current month (ie. I'll be uploading June content in July, which'll end up pushing July content into August, and so on).

The good news is: I have some miscellaneous old footage that I've been wanting to edit and upload for a long while, but I haven't had the chance to do it while keeping up with AuDHD. My plan is to try and get some of that footage edited while I'm without wifi, so I'll have some bonus content to reward you with for your patience when I finally return with a proper upload schedule!

Finally, I wanted to address Love Life. No, I haven't forgotten about it, and yes, it is my intent to continue that series if and when it ever becomes possible to do so. However, it is currently on an indefinite hiatus due to a combination of technical difficulties and scheduling issues, and I don't know when we'll be able to record the rest of our sessions. Currently, we are still planning to finish out the season, we just don't know when that will be. If it ends up being the case that we are unable to continue, I plan to at least post some kind of final video to offer closure on the series, so you won't be left hanging.

Thank you all for your continued patience and support, and I look forward to being settled in my new place so I can get back to bringing you all new videos!

TL;DR: The next month or so is going to be very busy for me, so I won't be uploading as frequently, which also means that my monthly themed content is unlikely to align with the month I end up posting it in. Love Life SMP is currently on an indefinite hiatus, but I wanted to let you know that am not abandoning it. Thank you all so much for your patience and support!

[crystalflygeo]

Wait a second! I knew I've seen you around! Crys!

Also, holy heck in a handbasket. Why are you also not an EBG participant? I've seen you on a couple blogs, notably, Meirin's and Dresvi's, and I really enjoy your shenanigans.

I like how you take things in unexpected directions. I thought the whole idea of bringing the Adepti in as players in Meirin's blog was such an amazing choice. You have a lot of talent in writing different sorts of characters, and I like it a lot.

I also like how you can find a way into blog arcs. With the way you write, you're flexible enough to push the writers on the other end just enough to get them to open up into the lore they have. I remember you pushing Elzer in Dresvi's blog just enough to drop little tidbits about the general lore and the fire situation that's apparently going on in there.

Also, do not get me started on how entertaining it is to watch you start up shenanigans in Meirin's tea house. It's so much fun to read your shenanigans.

I never know what I'm gonna get when I see you as an asker, and that makes it fun.

Like with Risu, I hope that you do end up being an EBG participant. I'm honestly amazed by how much mastery you have for different character voices. But even if you don't, it's been fun watching you cause a lot of fun shenanigans. I hope you continue to cause all the chaos.

There's only one day left, so I look forward to seeing what other shenanigans you get up to.

✌️

sfcvgsahvcajshcbsakn AYOOOOOOOOOO WHAT I'M HONORED PLS???

ANON WHO ARE YOU LET ME HUG YOU RN THANK YOUUUUU Again I did briefly consider it but I was just coming back from a trip for vacations, starting back work again, had other stuff going on stressing me also I genuinely don't think I have the brainpower to make a plotted EBG lmao

Also I feel like idk for something like this I'd like to establish some more lore about my OC/avatar? hehe. A lot of wonderful friends (most notably @meimeimeirin @floraldresvi @moraxsthrone and @localplaguenurse) have been really inspiring me to write more and kinda... open up more? feel more comfortable with myself in my blog? bc I always had this idea of being kinda "anon" and be a little removed from my own posts and writing, but they've given me courage to be myself and have fun and do what I want and that includes selfshipping which I never really... did much? But it's so much fun! It's so fun to RP, to share silly little headcanons and ideas, to express your love and happiness for characters, and share that supporting others too and making them happy! Anyway wow I got sappy. Point is, I do hope to kind of... introduce myself/my OC and be a little more "me" about my bias if that makes sense? because that is what the ebg is all about (I think?) that funny and weird "hey this person who loves X character is now forced to get out of their comfort zone and simp for Z instead lmao"

pls I had forgotten how much fun RPing could be I feel like I haven't done so in yeeeears and I still think I'm rusty scvgasjbvcjhak but I used to love it and I do love to write

EBG has been so much fun! Even as a spectator, and I sure hope to participate someday but pls literally all of this was so sweet schajbckas I am not worthy of that much praise aaaaaaaaaaa

I AM VERY PROUD AND HAPPY WITH MY SHENANIGANS AT RIN'S TEAHOUSE HAHAHAHAHA and knowing I gave her some good laughs and she has also been enjoying it's all worth it

ty anon this has been an experience, but also to know people see me like this just... pls Imma cry, I'm thankful to be so loved <3

[pretttydemonwrites]

Weeks 8 & 9 Update

Okay, so it's...been a busy/rough/complicated couple of weeks! But I haven't forgotten about this, and I'm still dedicated to it despite how many days I've missed. Instead of doing the daily word count though I'm gonna condense a little bit, just so this isn't such a long post.

WEEK EIGHT:

Writing Days - 3/7

Total Words Written - 729

WEEK NINE:

Writing Days - 2/7

Total Words Written - 414

Technically, if you average it out, I still had an average of at least 50 words a day for both of these weeks. And I'm nothing if not a lover of technicalities.

I had a lot going on the past couple of weeks so I haven't really had the energy, the time, or even the inspiration to work on much. That being said, I have a few new projects in the works on top of continuing to revise the one piece that I've spent a lot of this blog's lifespan working on.

Writing feels...lonely, sometimes. I think that I'm so afraid of criticism that I'm reluctant to share my work, but even when I do share my work I'm not guaranteed feedback and that's almost worse. What do I do if nobody says anything about the stuff I send them? I automatically assume it's trash and I should give up writing forever. Obviously.

I hate that my thoughts always jump to the worst possible outcome for this type of thing. I'm working on it though. In the meantime, I'm going to continue writing because god at least it's something other than mindlessly scrolling on my phone. And it makes me feel good.

Anyone reading these updates still, I love you as always and thanks for your support, however silent or vocal it may be.

[casspurrjoybell-19]

Does it Matter? - Chapter 50 - Part 1

*Warning: Adult Content*   

It took them a couple of hours to fully make their way up into the mountains and then they were there, they were home.

Bug wasn't sure where exactly the border lay out here but it didn't really matter.

This was the land he was born into and artificial borders set by humans didn't define that.

It was the rocks and the skeletal trees and the animals, the smell of the air and the breeze in his hair.

It was freedom.

"I missed this," Dara said as he took in their surroundings.

"I missed things I'd forgotten about entirely, if that makes any sense. The scraggly grass, the dirt. How dry everything is. How desolate the environment is until you look closer, pay more attention and you see a lizard, a bird, a nest of ants hard at work. I feel like long forgotten memories of my childhood, my family, might be stirred awake by the smallest thing."

"It hasn't been so long for me," Bug said.

"The only thing I'd forgotten was what it feels like to be free because I'd never appreciated that when I had it. You don't even realise that is a feeling until it's taken away from you."

"This is the right thing. For both of us."

"Yes but that doesn't mean it has to be easy. I know you loved him."

"Not loved. Love. My feelings haven't changed."

"Of course."

"You seem a little melancholy yourself."

"Hmm..."

Bug stroked his hand over Laurent's ears.

"I had hoped that somehow what that vision showed me would come to pass. That somehow Brayan and Maric as well, of course... would come with us. It didn't make sense but even so..."

"I understand. I wish it could have been that way too."

********

The ride back to the manor was long, miserable, and completely silent.

Maric was still humbled by the way his men had supported him in this.

He and Brayan had chosen them carefully and Maric had always believed them to be loyal but he couldn't have guessed that they would be willing to follow him this far.

That they would help him commit treason because he had fallen in love with a slave and not even look at him with judgement in their eyes but perhaps he didn't deserve all the credit for that.

Perhaps it was more than just loyalty.

The men had come to know Dara, had seen his intelligence and passion for themselves.

He doubted any one of them had still seen him as nothing more than a slave.

He hoped every one of them would now see every slave as more than that, as Maric had come to.

If they could have their perspective changed, perhaps others could as well.

Those were worries for another day, though.

Right now, all Maric wanted was to wallow in his misery.

As soon as they were back at the house, Maric retreated to his room and sent Brayan to fetch alcohol.

When he returned, Maric took one of the bottles of wine from him and locked the door behind them.

Brayan glanced at the locked door, accepted it and went and sat at the small table in the corner of the room with the other bottle of wine.

Maric sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep drag of his wine.

"Do you think it will ever stop hurting?"

"I don't know."

Brayan took a shallow swallow from his bottle.

"Some things stay with you and always hurt a little bit but never nearly as much as when they're fresh. I don't think, anyway. I'll admit I'm still young and I've only experienced so many things. Love is not one of them. Nor is heartbreak."

"Not even a little bit, now, over Bug? I saw you kiss him."

Brayan took another gulp of his wine.

"I admit that I'll miss him. Beyond that, well... I hardly knew him."

"Perhaps you're lucky. I feel like Dara took my heart with him when he left. Like I'll never feel whole again."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Maybe but living with this agony feels unimaginable. How am I supposed to get up tomorrow morning and continue on with my life? Maybe I won't feel this way forever but I'm sure things won't be much different tomorrow, or the next day..."

"It won't be easy but I'll be here."

"Yet even now, you're all the way over there."

Brayan considered his bottle, took another drink of wine and then set it aside on the table and approached Maric.

Maric drank deeply from his own bottle, set it on the nightstand, and then dragged Brayan down onto the bed by the front of his shirt.

Brayan put a hand on Maric's chest to halt him, unstrapped his sword from his waist and set it down next to the bed and then let Maric pull him the rest of the way down.

"You don't feel like him," Maric said as he began fumbling the buttons on Brayan's shirt open.

"Hmm?"

"He's smaller. Softer. Often timid but excited as well. Eager once he got past his fear."

Brayan lay back, his arms relaxed at his sides as he let Maric undress him.

"What do you want me to be?"

"Just yourself for once, Brayan. Not my Captain, not whatever it is you try to be. Just yourself, even if that means pushing me away right now."

The slightest smile curved Brayan's lips.

"A tall order. You assume I know what that is, myself."

"Please, I just... I need something real. Whatever that means."

"Okay," Brayan whispered, reaching out towards Maric.

"Okay."

Brayan seemed solely focussed on shedding them both of their shirts at first but then Maric dug his teeth into Brayan shoulder and Brayan took a sharp breath in and grabbed a handful of Maric's ass, grinding their hips together.

Maric pressed back against him, then winced at the feeling of buttons digging into his cock.

He quickly undid them and squirmed his way out of the remainder of his clothes while Brayan did the same.

Maric climbed on top of Brayan and pressed their hips together, his hand wrapping around both of their cocks.

Brayan watched him, cheeks flushed from arousal and alcohol, hands resting on Maric's hips.

They had never been together like this before.

Maric had fucked Brayan, of course but Brayan had never allowed for this level of intimacy.

Maric leant forward, burying his face between Brayan's shoulder and neck.

It didn't feel right to kiss him but he wanted to be close.

They moved together, faster, less controlled, Maric's hand keeping them aligned and providing needed pressure.

Maric came first, bucking down hard against Brayan.

He pushed himself up, slicked his hand with his own seed and stroked Brayan with renewed determination.

Brayan was a restrained man but his breaths were coming sharp and shallow now, his hips jerking in a desperate attempt to match the motion of Maric's hand until finally they pushed up one last time and he came.

Maric wiped his hand on the sheets and shut his eyes as he relaxed against Brayan's chest.

"Thank you."

[theheadlessgroom]

"Ugh, really, Randall? How immature can you get? For someone who claims to have lived here longer, you certainly don't act like it." Constance scoffed, the bride turning her nose up away from him and crossing her arms. "Hmph, and besides, have you looked in a mirror lately? Shabby, skeletal, decayed, deformed, hunchbacked, if any of us would be compared to that Crypt Keeper, it could only be you." Constance next moved her hands to her hips with a disapproving scowl, before dropping them with a sigh, "And for someone who questions how my husbands came to me, you don't see to be aware of your own hypocrisy. In spite of how repulsive YOU look, you still found a bride yourself, didn't you?" A smirk returned to her ruined beauty as she added, "Well, true, you never married, but am I wrong in understanding she still loved you in spite of your inherent inadequacy? Or you thought she loved you anyway." Constance smirked again as she tapped her chin, "People find love for lots of reasons. Honestly, Randall, it sounds more like you're projecting to me." She snickered coyly before continuing, "And I'll use Ms. Emily's name however I please. She's not here to contest it, is she? Better off without her though, my Attic is only big enough for one Bride and everyone knows who the prettier of us is." Constance appeared thoughtful for a moment, looking around, "I mean, she certainly had no concept of interior decorating. All black? No pastels?" The Black Widow Bride shrugged her shoulders with a huff and a shake of her head, "And you act as though my dear Ambrose is no longer with us. That couldn't be further from the truth. Now, unlike you, MY husbands still belong to me, and to me alone, entirely." She raised a hand, to reveal the glimmering wedding rings still on her fingers, "I take offense to that insinuation, you know? They still very much love me, even now. They'll even die for me. Again and again." A twisted scowl crossed her distorted face with a cackle, "Oh, but they ARE mine, absolutely. I keep them safely under lock and key. They gave themselves to me freely of their own accord. They should've known what they were getting into. Whatever happened to them was their own fault. Would you hold the crocodile accountable for it's actions when the tightrope walker just jumps into it's jaws?" She sighed again, a bemused expression now on her face. "But even now, despite their foolishness, I forgive them. That's what a marriage is about, isn't it? 'Unconditional love'? 'Til Death Do Us Part'? Well, we're long dead anyway, but it still stands, even in un-death."

"You know, Constance, in spite of what you think, looks aren't everything," Randall replied, sticking his tongue out. "Emily fell for me because I was a kind, dependable, supportive man who loved her not for her money, but because she was compassionate, gentle, and independent. She always told me she thought I was handsome, even after death, but it's what's inside that counts. You, on the other hand, are just ugly inside and out. You still haven't told me what brand of hair dye you use-whatever it is, it doesn't convince me that you're a natural blonde.

And my bride is not only more beautiful than you-inside and out," he continued, narrowing his eyes at her. "She's also far more terrifying than you'll ever be! My Emily has given untold generations countless nightmares from their visits up to our attic-and she didn't have to prattle on and on to do it. A cold stare and a beating heart still sends shivers down mortals' spines. You? You're a laughing-stock. Even with a hatchet in your hands, you couldn't scare even the biggest chicken-hearted mortal. My bride is remembered fondly, while you'll be forgotten as soon as you're out of this house.

And as for your husbands, I feel sorry for the poor bastards: Even in death, they have to be tied to you. That's the nearest thing to Hell I can think of-being tied to a deluded black widow who only thinks about murder and money. You should've married my murderer-it'd have been the biggest favor you could've done, the nicest thing you could've done in your miserable life, hacking his head off."

He then added, "And leave poor Miss Allie out of this! It's not her fault she got eaten, the rope was frayed-the other carnies didn't check it before she got on."