#but idk. i just hate how accusatory people always are

[pseudophan]

sorry but i think if you saw one of the tour shirts having a defect and you got immediately angry about it accusing dnp and their team of deliberately scamming people instead of going "hm could this possibly be an unforeseen production error" you should delete your account and never post about them or anything else ever again :P

[iamhereonlytobeanunstableshipper]

Ok so. I just saw a Reddit comment (idk why I get on reddit fandom cause it always ends up making me mad) saying that the Alastor and Husk scene was probably the first time Alastor was that violent towards Husk because of him talking back to Al in the first place.

Aka, Alastor isn't abusive to Husk, except for that one time. And ISTG that comment made me want to crawl into the darkest pit of hell (ha, get it?).

SO, let's explain why Alastor's treatment of Husk isn't a one time thing.

Husk and abuse: a character analysis.

First of all, let's explain Husk's personality and why he acts the way he does.

Husk's character is presented to us as a grumpy old alcoholic who only wants people to leave him the fuck alone. He doesn't care about the hotel, about any of its members, or about Alastor's plans. He doesn't want to collaborate, he doesn't want to be there, and he doesn't care enough to act as though he does.

But, reality is:

Husk cares. Way more than he wishes he did.

He doesn't show it often, but he cares. He shows it when he calls Sir Pentious, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel out at the beginning of Masquerade, and ofc, he shows it with Angel throughout this whole chapter.

(I find the heart motif on Husk's demon form to be very interesting, actually. I like to think that one of the things Husk hates the most about himself is that, as much as he wants to fake otherwise, as much as he sees it as a weakness, as much as it just complicates everything, he cares. And death taunts him with that, displaying for everyone to see the heart he so desperately wants to hide.)

Also, Husk is very good at reading people. He hates fakeness, he hates lies, he hates people being dense because they're trying to ignore a reality about themselves.

All of these things get on his nerves enough to show that he, in fact, cares.

And he sure as fuck loves (maybe a bit too much) winning an argument against someone who's pissing him off.

So, let's go to Alastor.

A while ago I saw an amazing post (that now i cant find aaaa if someone finds it pls let me know) that talked about how this isn't the expression of someone who's just been beaten at poker, but it's an expression of sadness and betrayal.

This post implied, therefore, that Husk and Alastor had built a previous relationship of trust before the betrayal, either platonic or romantic (which had been just manipulation from Alastor's side, just like he's now doing with Charlie)

If we take this into account, it makes more sense why Husk would care about Mimzy being trouble. Not only for the safety of the rest at the hotel, but also just a tiny little bit, for Alastor's own safety.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very sure that Husk hates Alastor, but there's this tiny, annoying part of him that can't help but care.

So, let's cut to the infamous scene.

Husk didn't confront Alastor because he had never been violent towards him before. Husk confronted Alastor because he cares, and because people being stupid gets on his nerves, and because he finds it hard to hold back when he knows he's right.

Also, it had been 7 years since he had seen Alastor. It's normal that he's gained more confidence to confront him.

AND, despite all of this, he was reluctant in the beggining.

In the first screenshot, Husk gets visibly angry at Alastor because of his dismissive attitude while his back is turned at him. But when Husk speaks again, you can see him visibly holding back, choosing his words carefully with that "I mean".

(Go rewatch the scene if you wanna, it's way more clear that way than via screenshots ksdldf)

Compare this to the much more accusatory way Husk was calling out Chaggie, Sir Pentious and Angel in back chapter 4. Husk is being careful with Alastor.

Despite all we know about Husk's personality that leads him to warn Alastor about Mimzy in the first place, Husk still holds all of that back.

Why? Cause he knows better than to say something that might anger him.

It's only when Alastor touches Husk and calls him his pet that Husk loses his temper.

As we know, Husk has VERY strong personal boundaries (probably some of them come from Alastor's touch itself)

Alastor trespassing his boundaries is what makes Husk stop thinking logically. He's pissed, and he hates Alastor, and he hates how he makes him feel so powerless, so insignificant, like less of a human.

And he bites back.

The comment I saw implied that Husk said the "big talk for someone who's also on a leash" because he thought it wouldn't have any major effect on Alastor, and he unknowingly touched a touchy subject.

But this is even slightly out of character for Husk. He didn't say it because he didn't think it would make Alastor mad, he said it because he knew it would make him mad.

Husk is fucking amazing at reading people. He knew it was a touchy subject. He wasn't thinking about consequences, he was thinking about pissing Alastor off, about regaining control.

(He's a gambler, cmon. Searching for control and power without minding the consequences is his thing.)

This is NOT a "what the fuck is he doing?" face. It's an "oh no, not again" face.

And immediately, he tries to take it back. The rush of making Alastor mad passes away the moment he pulls out the chain, and Husk knows what's coming.

Alastor has done that before. Judging by Husk's body language, there's NO way on earth he hasn't.

One VERY important thing to take into account is: victims have personalities.

Of course, victims tend to have unifying factors in their trauma responses due to similar experiences, but overall: a victim isn't an archetype, it's a person.

There are different types of abuse. Everyone reacts differently towards abuse.

Saying that Husk isn't being abused by Alastor just because he talks back is. Well. Kinda weird, isn't it?

(Maybe I'm exaggerating but doesn't it sound like victim blaming a bit??)

The important thing is that this is how Valentino and Alastor treat Angel and Husk:

Yes, they are different types of abuse. Yes, Angel and Husk's reactions to it are different.

But this doesn't make one kind less valid than the other. And just because Alastor isn't sexually abusive to Husk, that doesn't mean Husk's abuse is "less important" (this isn't a competition, ffs)

Husk's personality, Husk's hatred of stupidity, Husk's reactive nature, Husk's strong boundaries, don't automatically disappear when he's talking with his abuser. He's still Husk.

And yet, we can still see the signs of abuse, such as Husk holding back at the beginning because he knows what Alastor may do if he's mad, or him flinching away slightly when Alastor turns suddenly to look at him, or him trying to take back what he just said immediately because he's scared of the consequences.

And, let's be serious. Alastor is a serial killer. He enjoys watching people suffer. He enjoys knowing that people fear him.

And, since he's on a "leash", as Husk said, I'm very sure this hurts his ego a whole lot. So, it makes sense that he loves feeling that he has control over the souls he owns, that they fear him, to forget he's not completely free himself.

It's not so far fetched to assume that Alastor gets a quick and an ego boost out of seeing Husk like that, terrified and shivering on the ground. So I don't believe he hasn't done it before.

(And I mean, even if this only happened the one time we see it in the show, it would still be abusive?? It would be Alastor using his power to physically and psychologically torment Husk, which is abuse, even if it's only once ((which i highly doubt)))

In conclusion: Alastor is an abuser. There's no way around it. And Husk is a victim of abuse.

Sorry this got long SLKDS

Tbh I think everything I said here is pretty obvious?? Like to me that scene always read as a way of the show telling us Alastor's true colors once no one's watching, and the way he treats Husk. Like, it didn't even cross my mind that it might have been an isolated occurrence.

But the comment had around 50 upvotes so?? Idk I just wanted to rant about this lmao

[msbhagirathi]

IPKKND LIVE BLOG - Season 1 [Epi - 2]

Cooooommmmmmmeeee ooooooonnnnnnnn, letz start the second epiiiiiiiiii.

So we are starting right from where we had left them off. ANDDDDD BAAAAMMMM! Khushi jolts out of her (or rather their?) trance and realizes where her hand is, snatches it back. Pulling out Arnav from his trance as well.

I want you to focus on their expressions in the scene. Look closely, when she snatches her hand away from his collar. His gaze, instantly falls down to her hand and there's a moment where he steels himself and maybe even thinks that 'How dare she!'.

It's as if Arnav realizes that he needs to be angry and THEN all hell breaks lose, as he throws her out of his hands. He orders the head of his PR team to control the photos and videos of this 'scandal'. Khushi is locked in a room for interrogation.

Back in Gomti Sadan, the neighborhood aunties are gossiping about Khushi's absence. Buaji asks about the papers' whereabouts to Payal. But, Payal, already very nervous and tongue-tied, reduces to tears. I am surprised why did Buaji not see the change in her demeanor and most importantly her spilled tears. But, that's also not much surprising coz Buaji can hardly ever read Payal or Khushi's distress over anything that they seem to be facing alone, in the entire show. This scene also indicates that Payal has never been the rule-breaker kid, she's always been kind of a 'yes-man' to her parents.

Ohh! Did you notice how Khushi's voice sounds so off? Do you know why? Turns out Sanaya was sick with cold while shooting this sequence. She mentioned this in that interview with Mrs. Gul Khan, which was released right after IPK ended a few months ago.

Arnav instructs the team to interrogate Khushi and check whether a rival company (Re-Fashion? RI-Fashion? REE-Fashion? whatever, lol.) send her there to ruin his fashion show in exchange of some petty amount of money.

Payal's belief, of her Abhishek ji standing up to his family's demand of the dowry, breaks. She realizes that he is present there, knows everything going on but still refuses to speak up. She is heart-broken.

Was it only me or you also thought that the way Sanaya pronounced 'profession' is kind of-idk-intriguing?-sexy?-hot?-pata nahi choro (ok, leave it.)

Garima tries to associate the papers' absence to Khushi's absence. Payal has been caught like a deer caught in headlights.

Arnav comes to meet or rather to interrogate his wife 'that' girl, for 'answers'. Khushi requests him to let her go as she explains him that she landed there by mistake.

He is so adamant in throwing all the unfortunately familiar 'accusatory' questions. What was that 'Wipro-Fashion'? 'PRO-Fashion'? Whatever. See, many of you would disagree, here, but I think he is legit right in doubting her intentions, given the type of people he would have dealt with till now in this profession. Although, WE know, from Khushi's POV, that she is right, BUT that's the thing, he doesn't.

"Then let it (the marriage) break. Problems like these are nothing for girls like you. If one leaves, then trap another." ("Toh tut jaane do shaadi. Tum jaisi ladkiyon ka kya hai. Ek jayega, dusra phasaa lena.") And the BG score changes to something close to tandav beats. Maybe, just maybe he realized that he has struck a chord or crossed a line or fcked up real bad. It can be any of the three.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! The dreaded moment is here. Khushi retaliates but she does not realize the volcano in front of her, ready to burst out with hot, molten lava. She attempts to side step him but he grabs her by the arm and yanks at the dori of her blouse. Pearls scatter around, everywhere on the floor. Khushi is horror struck, devastated, horrified and all the girls watching this for the first time already knew what that meant. And hated Arnav for doing that to her for a long, long time.

See the irony, here. In the previous episode, we saw them together in that beautiful frame. No-one had any doubt of them being the alpha couple of the show. BUT. BUT. BUT.

After this scene, audience must have doubted, some might even have gone to the extent to declare Arnav as the villain. And later considered Shyam as the hero, coz of the way, he was introduced (we will come to that in that episode).

Hmm. I am thinking. Why did he let her go? Like? So....easily? After she pulled the ribbon from her hair and covered her exposed back, or rather her modesty. Arnav has frozen. At his spot. He isn't even moving a finger. (I will have to process this scene and then will let you know in a separate post.)

With this, the scene blurs and along with Khushi, we reach Gomti Sadan, where everything is eerily silent. Wait. Did we reach so early? Didn't Khushi take the whole day to reach SM? Then how come- ohh Guilty Arnav might have arranged a car for her to reach her home safely-Lol. Who am I kidding with? This is ASR, we are talking about. Let's stop with the wishful thinking.

Gomti Sadan. Gossips. Malign in their social image. A broken marriage. All of these are termed as a "Kali' (black ink) by Buaji. And who's at fault? Khushi. She talks of pulling off her braid and handing it to her. Basically, beat her ass off.

Buaji, I think, was never able to accept Khushi as her own child. She was always the only one to differentiate between the two. She was only the one who instigated Garima and Shashi against her. Although, Shashi had wholeheartedly accepted her as his daughter but Garima, often used to get manipulated into believing the worst, in Khushi.

Even now both Buaji and Garima are convinced that Khushi was, somehow, jealous of her sister's fate (that she was getting married) and so to malign it, she decided to sabotage the wedding by taking away the papers and fleeing out of everyone's sight until the wedding is called off.

Lol. Junior Engineer. And Buaji thinks, that's self-explanatory for them, having a right to ask for a dowry. Khushi explains herself. But, she is admonished by her (B-ji), for acting like a 'Dadi Amma', means trying to act above her age, by interfering in elders' matters.

Still, for the Guptas', specifically for Mrs. Garima Gupta, a broken marriage is worse than Payal getting married into a money-hungry family. Do you see it here? Getting MARRIED is of more importance than getting married into THE RIGHT FAMILY.

And as if all this admonishing and insulting is not enough, so, she kind of disowns her daughter. "Mat kaho hume Amma".

Khushi, who already had abandonment issues, guilt of being a burden to 'this' family, is now shell shocked. Someone please save this poor kid.

Buaji does it again! Hip, hip hurray guys! She again pulls up the orphan card and a non-refundable debt (of getting adopted by her brother and sister in law) card! What an awesome timing Buaji! Shut up Buaji. What? Shashi said this. Not me. I have manners, ok.

"Arre tujhse saga humara koi nahi hai." Payal's words calms Khushi to some extent. But, they are still not enough as we see that Khushi cannot sleep, and keeps tossing and turning, recalling her amma's harsh words.

She wakes up and opens their shop's door. Khushi is shown handling an LPG gas cylinder, an oil cannister and lighting a match stick, giving us the impression of her attempting to give up her life.

Precap starts. *quickly pauses it* I don't watch precaps. Spoilers. Don't like them. Bye. Such a stressful episode to watch.

P.S. : Remember the interview I was talking about? This is it. Please do give it a watch if you haven't already. It's so beautiful them sharing the off-screen things and being all nostalgic. You'll love it. :)

Previous Next Episode!

[pansy-picnics]

@okayishalchemist i’m not gonna reblog again bc i’m already embarrassed about making that whole thread on someones art post + it’s not really related to that discussion LOLLL but YES YOU GET IT!!!! rapunzel was NOT responsible for varian the way some ppl seem to think she was….temporary queen doesn’t mean you need to drop EVERYTHING to help one little white boy especially when the entire kingdom is simultaneously in danger….and obviously this isn’t meant to be accusatory and i know i’m literally the only one making it a gender thing, but it just kind of annoys me sometimes because when it comes to the general audience who don’t look much deeper into the situation they ALWAYS side with varian, and act like rapunzel is this horrible person for not helping him….when like lbr if the genders were swapped and this was a man who was asked to help a little girl ppl would NOT CARE!!!! they’d be sympathizing with them if anything!!! like “ohh he’s so sad he couldn’t help that kid :(“ even if his ass did NOTHING. but whatever. that’s for another day and i think i might get bashed for that one so i’ll just leave that there.

idk. it just mildly annoys me sometimes because it feels like people just subconsciously expect female characters to drop everything to help others and be like this unconditional motherly figure. but like rapunzel knew varian for what….3 months??? she met up with him maybe 4 times on screen and maybe like 5 altogether since she knew ruddiger’s name??? i’m all for varian and rapunzel being siblings but she is NOT his mom and i feel like a lot of the argument just boils down to everyone expecting her to be. like sure you can say rapunzel should have done more but like really what ELSE was she supposed to do??? she looked for him and couldn’t find him. she felt totally helpless in the situation, and she probably was trying to ignore it bc she trusted that her parents would solve the issue instead. this situation was the first time rapunzel was really faced with the weight of her new position and the fact that she’d feel overwhelmed and revert to inaction feels completely reasonable to me, and in the beginning of the series she trusted her parents unconditionally and gothel always did everything for her so she probably just assumed that her parents would help where she was unable to. i mean it makes sense right??? why wouldn’t they?????

we saw so much of the conflict from varian’s perspective and it seems like a lot of people just took that 100% seriously despite the fact that he’s a teenage boy who’s dad just basically died LMAO. like obviously his feelings are valid but he is not in the best place to be coming up with logical explanations right now.

ofc this is purely targeted at the people who do look at it from a character perspective rather than a writing perspective and STILL come to the conclusion that rapunzel’s in the wrong because on a writing standpoint i understand just being upset about how it was portrayed. but i feel like some people are just trying to find reasons to hate rapunzel atp and it’s stupid

[nerves-nebula]

So I'm the eldest and I love all my siblings but god ever since I moved out my brother has been such a lil shit to our youngest- back when I lived there I was always the one to deescalate situations (in general not just my brother)- and he in general wouldn't behave that way when I'm around (i always thought its cause me and him are close but once I talked to mom about it and she says that he probably doesn't because he's scared of me... which is not great- I have to admit when the two of us were little I was a lil shit the same way he is now - I only got my shit together at 14- 15 because I realised that there had to be one responsible person in the household and it wasn't going to be our parents- also I just didn't want my siblings to hate me after I died. But since me and brother are the closest in age he remembers more of that time when I sucked than our other siblings do - so I shouldn't be surprised he is behaving similarly especially since he never had to go through the same crisis that i did at 15 (thats not even getting started on how our parents have affected all this)) but that doesnt change the fact he's being a lil bitch to my sister!

And I can't go tell him to knock it off- I have been bullied in school before I'm not dumb- a figure of authority telling a bully to stop it is just gonna make the bully be pissed that the person they're bullying snitched

Idk- he'll be moving out in 2 years so she won't have to put up with him after that but I still feel like I should fix the situation- I want to shake him and tell him "I got my shit together why can't you!" But it would be a bit rich coming from me

He seems to be at least semi aware of it- he tends to avoid people after doing shit like that- but he never apologises and that still sucks!

Tldr I'm very used to being the one responsible for fixing things in my family , but now I have moved and I can't do that and I'm very frustrated about it

Idk, I want to ask if you have any ideas but I know that would be a bit much and I already dumped so much on you- I'm very sorry about that- if you want to ignore this ask feel free to do so

i dont have any ideas, sorry. though my oldest sister might hahahh. that was more their role than mine. for what its worth i feel a similar kind of guilt about moving away cuz my little sister is stuck with mom and my oldest brother and it's frankly terrifying to think about that situation for too long.

my oldest sister has made a lot of progress reconnecting with us though through honest & emotional conversation. they've apologized for what they've done and they've worked on making sure we all don't, like, kill ourselves or something. so maybe you could start with that?

like, instead of starting out shaking his shoulders and yelling at him you just start by apologizing for the way you acted and stuff. and if you can try to segue into a level headed, non-accusatory conversation about why he shouldn't treat his sister this way.

idk i am not incredibly smart when it comes to this stuff so if that goes bad you can't blame ME cuz you're the one taking advice from a depressed art student on tumblr afasdfsdf

[bonesandthebees]

So who do I think is behind this conspiracy? Aka what pieces of evidence can I find for each character? If I’m honest, I think it’s a case of a secret meeting Wilbur wasn’t a part off. It feels like a Schlatt thing and I’m not sure how involved Quackity and Niki are.

What makes this interesting is that, based on the war room exercise, this is a perfect blend between Niki’s ruthlessness and Quackity’s preference towards bargaining. There’s evidence that both of them know about it. But as you said, neither of them would risk Wilbur’s life having known him for so long. They are probably still convinced he’s on their side (and if we’re honest, Wilbur hasn’t really picked a side yet, but this will change that).

So I think that if they are behind this, they didn’t know Wilbur would be there too, not initially at least, because Quackity does warn him. There’s a big difference between choosing to have someone kill Tomys and his tutor (and yes that is what the bandits first assume Wilbur to be) and killing Tomys and their friend Wilbur (whom both of them trust and want as their consul).

Anyway, let’s get to my evidence. First up, Niki! We know our girl is very good at hiding her emotions, thoughts and feeling at all times. We see it in the garden conversation with Tomys. She acts pleasant towards him, but she hates his guts. We see her face darken when Sam smiles at him because Tomys ‘won’ the war room exercise. (Foreshadowing? Possibly)

We also get the flashback of the night before. [Niki froze, her fingers pushing into the soft skin of her cheeks. She blinked at her reflection for a long moment before her hands began to resume smoothing the oil onto her face again.] this girl did not know Wilbur was going. While this does not incriminate her, this does add to the idea that she did it without knowing Wilbur would be at risk, which makes her more likely to have a hand in it.

She also starts avoiding eye contact with him after he tells her. [“I don’t understand why you’re going with him though.”] Wilbur’s not meant to be there, he should have been safe, but somehow he’s going. [“And you accepted?” Niki pushed, still focusing on the mirror instead of him.] this one just feels accusatory, could have been about Wilbur’s general lack of spine regarding his father (I think Niki has a pinions about that regardless of any possible involvement with this plot).

Once it’s confirmed that Wilbur is going, Niki moves to sit next to him. She fidgets with his rings aka her nervous tell. If she didn’t know, she has no reason to be nervous about this. At the same time, she follows it by asking if Phil is made at her. (And I love that this entire thing is layered so it can be read 2 ways). But she does imply that Wilbur better come back. Could be friendly banter, could be genuine worry.

And for the people thinking Niki would tell him if he was in danger. She knows Wilbur can’t really tell his father no, she checks. So if she told him, he would still have to go or has no proper excuse. They don’t want this to get back to Phil. And what if he goes and then comes back and knows it’s her. Their friendship could be ruined. Idk, it doesn’t feel like something she would tell him. Or something she would know how to tell him. But there’s a possibility she’s quietly panicking about it.

(3/?)

-🌲

hmmm these are all very interesting points. as always I cannot say anything, but I love seeing these theories :)

[everybody-loves-purdy]

I wish that people who hated Nightheart wouldn’t be so, like,,, hostile about it towards his fans, I guess? Idk I personally relate to him to an significant degree (like I don’t think I’ve ever related this much to a character before ngl) in spite of his flaws. And yet, in saying this (on both tumblr in the past and on other sites), I have been attacked verbally and accused of being somehow misogynistic (uh,,, what? Many of my favorite characters are literally the she-cats, such as Mothwing or Frostpaw or Hollyleaf or Squirrelflight) or even accused of being ‘abusive’ for liking him, which really doesn’t make any sense to me either? He’s not, y’know, Bramblestar or something. This is especially true when it comes to trans headcanons: I personally like to view Nightheart as transmasc like myself because I find a lot of his story elements regarding his name change and identity issues ofc. But,,, whenever I say anything abt this headcanon there’s always some ppl who use it as ammo to accuse me / others of awful stuff. I even got told to unal1ve myself by someone before over this which is,,, not cool. I try not to let this sorta thing get to me but I do feel that it has gotten pretty extreme over this past year and I don’t think it’s okay at all. People can like or dislike whatever characters they want imo (unless we’re talking about, like, Thistleclaw supporters. That’s a bit weird) and they should never ever be sent literal hate or harassment over it. I just kinda want people to chill a bit and maybe consider that there are better ways to discuss any disagreements they may have over the books and not jump straight into being cruel / accusatory towards them, if that makes sense.

I agree, I understand why people may not like Nightheart but it is completely unacceptable for people to be harassing people like that, I’m very sorry you’ve experienced that. I understand people are frustrated about how the female characters around Nightheart have been written in Sky. But that’s a writing issue and not a reflection on Nightheart himself imo, and it is extremely unfair to judge people for liking him. Especially with as you say Nightheart not being problematic in himself.

Of course it’s not excusable to harass people in any kind of character debate such as this but I feel that the Nightheart hate has become extreme in certain areas given how unproblematic the actual character is, if people enjoy the who he is then let people enjoy him. I find him funny, I like Nightheart, and although I can definitely see the issues with how some characters have been presented to suit his narrative more I still like the character.

Obviously this isn’t all Nightheart dislikers I’m talking about, not by any means, but the minority that do harass people like this are just ruining it for everyone.

I do wonder, obviously without reading Shadow myself, if this is inherently an author issue this stems from. In River the world warped around Nightheart much less and the female family members in his life were treated with more consistent and sympathetic characterisation. That was a Cherith book. People after River disliked Nightheary sure but it was more of a “I find him annoying” thing. Sky is where it all went wrong and where I’ve noticed people taking it out on Nightheart for being understandably upset about Sparkpelt’s and Finchlight’s characterisation changes in that book. That book does have much more emphasis on the Firestar thing from characters who are not Nightheart (in River his frustrations were largely self imposed), and the TC female characters act a lot more unreasonable than they usually would in general. That was a Kate book. Meanwhile I have heard that Shadow, another Cherith book, treats his female relatives much more sympathetically again. So I can’t help feel that author bias may be influencing the writing associated with him here? Sorry to go off on a tangent at the end here but it’s just a thought, and one I wonder if could cause a change in fandom perception of Nightheart again once shadow is out.

[ririsrandomrants]

Open Letter

to whom it may concern, charot 🤡

If you really want to know the reason I stopped being your friend, this will be the perfect example. Actually, I don’t think I need to explain myself, the statement you said clearly shows how you believe the things you hear about me without clearing it from me first. That will always be the greatest thing I hate about you. You like believing in the worst things you hear. And I can’t believe people haven’t gotten over college? C’mon, that was lifetimes ago, grow up, move on. So here it goes, maybe you forgot about it but during 3rd year 2nd sem, you were always (i’d like to say ‘jokingly’) playfully(?) hitting on me. Saying things like, you look beautiful today or your outfit really looks good on you and even, we should go out see a movie together. And yes, maybe you forgot, or maybe it was a joke(?) but you asked me, “if I ask you to be my girlfriend, what are the chances you l’d say yes”?. I remember saying, more than 100%. That was during the last day before Christmas break. Then, when classes resumed, you stopped talking to me. During 323 class, I borrowed your phone from Earl to copy assignments and then when I swiped to see the next item, that’s when I saw you got back together. So after that, I asked some of your friends if you got back together, I don’t know if I deserved an explanation, I just wanted to know for sure. Maybe I was just a game you liked playing while you were broken up with your girlfriend. Maybe you forgot about it because it wasn’t a big deal to you. I got played. And that was it, I didn’t care about it afterwards. I NEVER WANT TO BE A 3RD PARTY TO ANYONE’S STORY. THAT’S NOT ME. AND EVERYONE WHO KNOWS ME, KNOWS I’M NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL! I still was on/off with Kenneth at that time, I also had Earl O to think about. So, I just shrugged it off. I remember you even got mad, like Earl told you I spread the news you got back together. I didn’t! I was just asking if it was true. But of course, my side/feelings didn’t matter. People always like painting me as the bad guy. Dafuq, guys? What did I ever do to you? Anyway, I didn’t tell your friends/blockmates that story. I’m not even sure I told Awon/Shena/Kin that story. I told Lya that story around 2019, when she was curious if you and I ever had a moment. Idk if Tansh/Jed/Pao/Aui was there. So I don’t know where you got that, “i told people pag college” thing. And fu, your statements are always derogatory and accusatory. “I just want you to know, I know”. For what purpose?? What you know isn’t even accurate. Believe what you want oi for all I care. I only need friends who know I am a good person and that I may make mistakes but I grow from them. I’m an entirely different person now, stop sucking me back to that hellhole with people who can’t move on. I’ve forgiven myself for everything that’s happened in the past, I love who I am now. I’m at peace, and in a healthy relationship with myself. You can’t make me go back to self loathing. It took so much for me to be here. So if that’s your narrative, please don’t be around me. Goodbye.

[cherrypink-t]

Did the cis women in anyone else’s life take their transition personally, like really fucking personally? Cause mine did. For awhile it seemed like some of the women in my family felt personally slighted or something. As if me doing what I wanted with my body was an insult to them somehow.

For example my great grandmother had a lot to say about my transition, most of which I actually didn’t listen to. I honestly never planned on coming out to her, we weren’t close, she wasn’t going to be around for all that long (she was like 87), I didn’t really see a reason in bugging her about it. She was very progressive on most issues so that wasn’t why I didn’t want to come out to her, it really just seemed like a hassel. But she apparently noticed that my chest seemed different (not in a creepy way it’s very noticeable if someone was used to seeing me in a bra not a binder) and asked my aunt who outed me to her. So when I went over to her house to help my grandma care for her the first thing I’m met with when I walk into her room is something along the lines of, “why don’t you want to be a woman? Women are amazing?,” along with something else I didn’t hear cause I just told her to mind her own business and walked away. I’d always found that almost lectured odd because I’ve literally never said anything about women in regards to my transition other than the fact that I’m not one. I was able to force an apology for this by just refusing to go over and help take care of her. I know it wasn’t sincere but she was always extremely stubborn, and never said sorry for anything so it felt like a win in my book. Maybe that was mean of me but not much I can do about it now.

My aunt had a semi similar comment. I mentioned that I didn’t want to go to Texas because of the laws there (at the time they weren’t as crazy as now but still bad) and she went on this weird rant about women that ended with, “but you think being a woman is the worst thing in the world,” then finish it with, “well I guess it is,” referring to how women are treated especially in places like Texas. This whole conversation felt just so accusatory, and kinda te/rfy. I don’t mind discussing feminism and things like that with her but she turned a convo about me not wanting to go to Texas because of the anti-trans laws there into what seemed like a competition about who had it worse. Then seemed to turn this whole thing on me, as if I was transitioning to avoid misogyny which is just classic te/rf talk. Because obviously me declaring that I’m a trans guy means everyone treats me like a man now /s.

In both these conversations it really felt like they considered me transitioning to be somehow hurting them. Idk, maybe it’s because I’m the only person in the youngest generation of our family born afab, and they feel frustrated now there’s not a daughter in the family or something. It’s just so frustrating cause I’ve never said anything bad about women or anything like that. I’m just not one and for some reason they act like that’s me insulting them.

Idk, I’m just honestly trying to make sense of all the weird interactions I’ve had since coming out as trans masc. I don’t get why they happen and they always seem to come out of nowhere. It’s like people think I’ve done something mean just by transitioning which is ridiculous. I just hate that I can’t talk about some of my problems to my aunt anymore. We used to be so close and now it feels like whenever something about me being trans comes up there’s a divide between us.

[soleilnomoon]

hihi kaia! i love ur writing sm and was wondering if i could request a fic of childhood friends to lovers with sabo? maybe reader is also a noble and hates nobility, but one day meets sabo, becomes friends and he decides to introduce them to ace and luffy blahblah… then maybe they reunite in the revolutionary? idk i hope it’s not too complicated… honestly if it is, feel free to adjust however much u want, i’d just love to read ur interpretation of this :0 otherwise, u can also decline! thank u sm

hellooo, omg thank u sm! i’m glad you find enjoyment in my writing <3 i love that ppl are requesting sabo so much now, i love him; also thank u for being so patient :) also this came out much longer than i meant but oh well lmaooo

2.6k words, gn reader (no pronouns), sfw, angsty bc that's what i love, a bit of fluff if you squint hard enough (i tried), no major warnings although there is mention of a bit of violence & death. nothing big tbh.

they say, “sit up straight,” and, “don’t eat with your elbows on the table”; to drive their point in, they tack on, “your form is atrocious, try again,” with a bit of, “are you truly my child? i have my doubts,” which doesn’t always hurt your feelings, but sometimes it stings a little too hard. and, more importantly, they always make sure to end with, “remember, in life, one must always know their place.” 

you just didn’t know that it applied to you too. 

stuck in the rut of routine, in the normalcy that is absolutely abnormal, you constantly disrupt your studies by daydreaming of escaping the stuffy confines of your home. you know you have it better than most, know that there are people who would kill — literally — to have even a crumb of the wealth your parents have. it doesn’t matter to you; none of it does. it never has, and possibly never will. on a day where your parents are off doing what nobles do with all of their free time, you sneak away, determined to enjoy the city outside of the tall wall that separates the masses.

as fate would have it, you see a familiar top hot and goggles with a mess of blond curls underneath; your curiosity piqued, you follow after him. you’ve always wondered why he snuck around like that, why he didn’t act like the other children — was he also disgusted with the absurd wealth that the nobles and monarchs hoarded? was he tired of formalities, of the life that was crafted for him without his input? was he also trying to achieve a similar dream as you? your legs carry you as fast as they can — you’re not very good at sneaking, and because he’s used to the journey, he does what he can to shake you off.

still, you’re determined. your stubbornness is the one attribute your parents could never stamp out of you, no matter how hard they tried — and, yes, they have tried. locking you away, not feeding you for days, hoping to quell whatever rebellious spirit you’ve developed — all in vain. 

he takes several right turns before taking a left, and then disappears. you stand in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by tall, thick trees; the sounds of neighboring forest frightening you a bit. you’re not used to wildlife like that, not used to being away from supervision, so this is all very new and exciting in a way. as you try to catch your breath, you never notice the soft footsteps; sabo twists your arm behind your back, eyes narrowed as he starts his interrogation.

“why are you following me? who sent you?” his hold tightens, making you wince, but you refuse to make a noise. lips pressed tightly, you shake your head, hoping he’ll get the hint that you don’t mean him harm. he doesn’t like that; doesn’t like that you aren’t talking, even with him holding you like this. and, because he isn’t inherently cruel, sabo releases you, pointing his weapon at you when you turn around and face him.

recognition shifts his features from accusatory to genuine surprise. “y/n? what are you doing here?” you rub your arm, still confused as to how sabo is able to move as fast as he can.

“i came to ask you the same thing,” you offer simply with a slight shrug of your shoulders. “i’ve always wondered why you always seem so…angry.”

your assertion gives him pause; he knows when he’s around the other nobles, his mask is nearly perfect — rarely are people able to see through the polite facade he puts on. but you, you see him; clearly and resolutely. it makes him uneasy.

“don’t worry, i’m not here to turn you in or anything,” you add quickly, rocking back and forth on your heels.

with narrowed eyes, sabo eventually lowers his weapon, considering your words seriously. “then why are you following me?”

frustrated with his inability to understand, you reiterate your earlier statement. “like i said,” you stomp your foot, “i came t—”

“on second thought, i don’t care. please leave, and don’t tell anyone you saw me here.” his mind made up, he gives you a prolonged look and runs off. it takes you a few hours, but you eventually make it back home, head spinning over the events of the day. your work unfinished, you don’t even blink when your mother barges into your room, yelling in a way that the other socialites in her circle would clutch their pearls over. the usual punishment occurs — a slap on the face, vicious words that cut into you repeatedly, the assertion that no child of hers will ever come back into her home looking disheveled as you did, and no supper.

you don’t care; it was worth it, you tell yourself. at night when you fall asleep, you dream of a forest and sabo.

the next time you follow him, you get a bit better at it; he catches you and tells you the same thing. to leave him alone and not come looking. so you ignore it and try again the next time he sneaks out. but, his treks beyond the city become more prolonged, and when he does come back, he doesn’t look happy at all. it’s then you suggest to your mother that you have a play date with him, and at first she’s apprehensive but who is she to deny such a reasonable request from you? especially since you never want to play with anyone anymore.

sabo’s home is similar to yours, with a softer color palette. nobles are extremely unoriginal when it comes to decorating, they tend to emulate popular trends, and right now it’s almost as if you’re standing in your own foyer. sabo says nothing until you’re escorted to his room and he shuts the door.

“why are you here?” he spins around to ask you, eyes narrowed, face flushed from exertion or annoyance — you’re not sure.

“this was the only way i could see you,” you say genuinely. “i think i understand you a little more.” he watches you move about, hands touching the surface of his desk, his books, you peer at his collection of pens too. “you want to escape, right?”

his face blanches and he opens his mouth to refute your claim, not wanting his parents to overhear, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“no, it’s okay. i get it.” you weren’t sure before what you were missing, but seeing the ways sabo defied his parents, the ways he’s defied society in general — it moves you to act. “take me with you.”

sabo blinks repeatedly, not quite sure if he hears you correctly. “do you realize what you’re asking me?” his hands grow clammy and he keeps wiping them on his shorts. “it’s not an easy life, living out there. you won’t last.” but, someone who understands his plight better than ace or luffy ever will, the thought intrigues him to say the least.

“don’t worry, i’ll make it. i know i will.” you have to. this is your last resort, after all. sabo sits on his bed and considers your request. there are so many unknowns, so many variables to consider; but your determination is admirable. maybe you do have what it takes.

“how do i know i can trust you?” he tilts his head at you, arms folded against his chest. maybe this will prove that you’re not as serious as you claim to be. he sneers until he sees the pocket knife you’ve retrieved from your person; unsheathing the blade, you grab his hand and before he can protest you quickly prick his finger with it and then do the same to yourself.

“a blood pact,” you say solemnly, having read it somewhere in a book once. you hold your finger out, the blood gliding down as it seeps out of the tiny wound. sabo swallows hard, a little shaken by your conviction — you remind him of ace, in a way; intense, impulsive, inconveniencing him at the worst times. 

but he presses his finger to yours too, voice dropping to a whisper, “don’t make me regret this.” when you put the knife away you quickly hug him, feeling happier than you’ve felt in… years. sabo is unsure of what to do, so he pats your head awkwardly before prying you off of him. before long, you both fall into an easy conversation. you’re much funnier than he originally thought, your jokes making him laugh hard enough that his face turns red. he’s kinder than he appears, taking his time to explain his view on being a noble, on how everything feels rotten on the inside. his confession reminds you of a similar one — one you made late one night, whispering to the stars while everyone was asleep. so you listen carefully, absorb his words, enjoy the passion in his voice, and because you’re watching so intently, he gets flustered and stumbles over his words.

you try to ask him about it, but he gently nudges you away and hides his face by going through his dresser drawers. he tells you to pack light, that this will be the last time you see the city like this. it doesn’t bother you, though — leaving like this. so you make plans to meet at the gate later on that night. things go off without much issue, the journey a little easier now that you have sabo to guide you. both of you talk at length about your dreams, about impossible things you wish to see happen, on how you’re both eager to take to the sea. you’re more alike than you realize, but you don’t say anything — a little afraid that he might actually leave you behind if you do.

he introduces you to his brothers ace and luffy; the latter takes to you right away, excited that sabo brought on someone fun to play with. ace takes a bit of convincing, but when you prove capable enough, he begrudgingly accepts you. the time you spend with them fills you with a certain warmth that you’re desperate to hold onto. sabo, in turn, is a little more softer with you; takes his time to slow down if you’re lagging behind, only pushing you when he sees fit, staying up late to make up stories about potential adventures at sea with you. in hindsight, you come to understand that this was a love that blossomed slowly, that you only realized your feelings when it was much too late.

sabo’s death shatters something inside of you. but, you refuse to go back home. even after the search parties, you continue to keep hidden, sticking with ace and luffy for as long as you can, until it’s time to set off on your own. 

time gives you perspective, helps you see that naivety has no place in adult life, makes you wish to do something that will make a difference. it’s ace’s death that hardens you again. and, while you wish you could find luffy and comfort him for his loss, you know that won’t fix anything. the frustration pushes you to do more — to train harder, to educate yourself on the ongoings of the world. because your desire to be a part of the change in the world is so great, it leads you to the revolutionary army without fail. you’re told you’re to meet with the second-in-command, so you wait in the designated area, tapping your foot nervously against the hard tiled floor. you don’t know why, but you’re anxious about meeting him, wanting to make a good first impression you dress a little nicer than usual, make sure that your hair is perfectly in place — a testament to your upbringing, something you unfortunately cannot escape.

heavy footsteps alert you to his presence as he makes his way closer. “sorry for the wait,” he says, a polite smile on his face as he takes you in. since recovering his memories, things are still a little fuzzy, so he pauses right when you do, the thick file he had in his hands slips through his fingers, the papers flying as they fall onto the floor. you’re gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, you’re sure you’ll break the wood at this rate.

“s-sabo?” you can’t believe it — no, you refuse to believe it. but there he is, same as ever — a little older, much taller, and handsome as always. your brain short-circuits momentarily as you rub your face with your hands. “how is this even possible? how are you alive?” you haven’t moved from the chair, opting to sit because you know if you try to stand your legs will give out. ace is dead…but sabo is alive. when luffy finds out, he’ll be over-the-moon. you planned on keeping your hands over your face for eternity, hoping your tears don’t flow more than they are currently. sabo plucks your hands off of your face and pulls you to your feet — his strength is alarming, but you don’t mention that. you don’t mention that he’s grown to be much more confident in his convictions, that despite his status in the revolutionary army, he still has that boyish charm, still looks at you as if you hold the secrets to the universe, still has that mess of curls that you remember playing with more times than you can count.

you shove at his chest, not understanding a thing. “what happened? why are you here?”

 if anyone were to see you talking to him like that, they might kick you out; still, you keep at it, hurling question after question, irritated that he isn’t answering you. he’s much too busy committing your face to memory all over again. sabo, meanwhile, familiarizes himself with the annoyance on your face, the adorable pout on your lips, the delicate way your eyelashes fan out, the determined set of eyes of yours that always managed to see through his bullshit. 

it comes back to him in pieces, but with you in front of him, he finally feels at home.

“calm down,” he says lightly, that impish smile you fell in love with so long ago making the pitiful organ you call a heart to beat a little faster than normal.

poking your finger at him, you huff, “don’t you tell me to calm down, how about you calm down?” it’s ridiculous, you know, you’re being wholly unfair. something happened to sabo over the past decade, something you might never understand entirely — and even though you’re annoyed about it all, you’re so incredibly happy you could cry all over again. he wants to ask you about luffy, wants to ask how ace was before his untimely demise, wants to know if you still have the same dreams from back then. but he doesn’t. instead, he finds solace in teasing you, liking how easily you fall for his taunts. when you finally stop berating him, when you’ve run out of questions to ask, you quiet down and hug him tightly. 

you don’t expect him to return your embrace, so when he does, you’re stunned. sabo brushes his lips against your forehead, the kiss soft enough that you’re sure you imagined it. again, you feel your heart beat faster than necessary, that warmth you thought you lost so long ago finding you once more. his slender fingers tilt your chin upward so you can look at him properly. there’s something he’s been chasing during all of the years you were apart; his dreams were plagued by memories of his past life that didn’t feel quite real. but consistently, your face, your voice popped up every single night. he thought he imagined you; thought maybe you were just someone he desperately wanted to be real. but, now that he’s seen you — now that he’s holding you, he can safely say that you’re very much real. and he refuses to let you go.

“it’s okay,” he says quietly, smiling gently, “i missed you too.”

[missmeganlee]

On People Hating on Wille

What happened to loving the fact that all of characters are so nuanced? What happened to loving that nothing in this wonderful show is black and white? Everything exists in a grey area. It's why we can sympathize with every character, yes even August. And idk this "trend" (yes I'm gonna call it a trend cause, honestly it seems like people are getting antsy with little to no content so they're just saying anything right now) seems to ignore that fact about the show.

Did Wille make mistakes? Yes, but so does every other character in the show. Making mistakes and having flaws is what makes the characters human and makes the show so grounded. Imagine how boring it would be to have a main character who we always knew would make the "right decision" (and this is coming from a girl who's favorite Marvel character is Captain America).

Remember Wille is only a 16 year old boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You should be making mistakes at 16, that's how you learn and grow as a person. And I can't imagine the enormous pressure that he must be feeling knowing that he is expected have "no more mistakes" to quote Kristina. And all of this sudden hate on Wille is just pushing that narrative (it's honestly kinda meta). If I was in Wille's position, I'm not sure if I (at 16) would've handled it much better than him.

I feel like the fandom as a whole tends to baby Simon just a bit because he's had to take on this "man of the house" role, and honestly Linda could do more as a parent (in my opinion), and because he had to grow up so fast. But he's not as innocent and helpless as we make him out to be. Simon's never had any problems with standing up for himself, and the show established that in his character right from the beginning. And Simon's never had a problem calling Wille out on his privilege/one-sided thinking either, which was also established right from the beginning. That's part of why Wille was attracted to Simon and vice versa, cause Wille was able to take it, and agree with the points Simon made. This would be an entirely different argument had Simon not done any of these things. But he did, and people seem to be forgetting that for whatever reason (confirmation bias)

Could Wille have not come off as so accusatory in the piano room scene? Yes. Could Simon have better communicated with Wille instead of shutting down and walking away? Also yes. Was Simon in the wrong to steal and deal drugs? Yes. Was Wille also in the wrong for taking said drugs and then talking down to Simon about them? Yes. Neither is a completely innocent person, again that's what makes them human

The only thing Wille was completely in the wrong for was how he handled the denial. And I don't expect Simon to forgive Wille for that easily. It's going to take a lot to rebuild that trust that was lost between the two of them. But I also don't think Wille thinks Simon will take him back so easily. Again, Simon's proven to us and to Wille that he can stand up for himself and establish boundaries for himself.

Lastly, gonna touch on the 2 times Wille broke things off with Simon. We can infer and theorize all we want about if Wille knew he wasn't straight, but factually, looking at just what the show gives us, this is Wille's first time being attracted to a boy. And who wouldn't be art least a little scared having that realization. It challenges his entire world view. And it's probably been drilled into him his entire life that he would grow up to marry a nice well-to-do woman and raise their kids together, who could be possible heirs to the monarchy. I mean we all referred to Wille's non-reaction to the first and second time that Simon kissed him as "gay panic" for a reason. The second time Wille breaks things off with Simon, his brother has just passed. Now Wille and his future children aren't just the spare heirs anymore. They're it. They're the future monarchy. Full stop. Period. All of the pressure Wille's faced as the spare has increased tenfold now that everything rests on his shoulders. And that is centuries of heteronormative tradition constantly in the back of Wille's mind. (I also think that Wille breaking up with Simon here was his way of protecting Simon, but that's a post for a different day) Again, I say "gay panic." Do I think Wille could've articulated his thinking and reasoning to Simon in both instances better? Abso-fucking-lutely. Simon does deserve more of an explanation than "I'm not like that" and "I can't do this anymore, delete my number and all of our texts." But I don't think Wille was in the wrong for breaking things off both times. And I definitely don't think Simon was in the wrong for breaking up with Wille at the end of season 1.

[reidgraygubler]

bowling shoes (franklin/reader)

Title: Bowling Shoes

Request:  yes! It was requested by the wonderful @sunlight-moonrise​​

Couple: franklin (mgg’s role in beginner’s luck)/fem!reader

Category: smut

Content Warning:  SEXUAL CONTENT (degradation, praise kink, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, little bit of cockwarming ;), spanking, heavy petting, slight humiliation (i think), spitting, hair pulling, groping, creampie/unprotected sex, fingering, penetrative sex), dom!franklin, kissing/making-out, swearing, implied age gap (but they never specify Franklin’s age. So idk) (if i missed anything that needs to be tagged, PLEASE let me know!!)

Word Count: 4,224

Summary:  Reader is new in town and works at her grandfather’s bowling alley, where some people spend late nights practicing for the town-wide bowling competition.

A/N: The third day of my seven days of seven fics! This particular one shot has been sitting in my wip list since September 2020. And I just finally decided to write it. This was written with matthew gray gubler’s character from the short film Beginner’s Luck. If you haven’t seen it yet I highly recommend watching it bc it’s amazing and I love Franklin. I hope you’re all enjoying the 7 days 7 fics! I really cranked it out on all of these oneshots! Here is the masterlist for that! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support!  

{***}{***}{***}

Little Falls… I never understood this town's love for bowling… and I probably never will… It’s probably a good thing that I moved from Little Falls before I got old enough to actually learn how to bowl, mostly because if I did, and I didn’t bowl, I’d probably be chased out of town with a crowd of pitchforks and torches.

So, it’s probably an even better thing that I just work at the town’s precious bowling alley. But, to be fair… This alley has been in the family since it opened. 

Long story short, I hate bowling. I just needed extra cash, and my grandfather just so happens to pay me extra. Not because I’m fami-No that’s exactly why...

“You are busting my balls here!” A man shouted from the lanes. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked in that direction, looking for the owner of the shouts. I gently placed the pair of shoes down on the counter before walking around to the lanes. “You can’t be serious!” A guy wearing a yellow bowling shirt was shouting down the lane he was standing on. 

“Is… Is everything okay?” I leaned against the half-wall beside me. I propped my arms on top of the wall as I looked at him. I looked across the tables behind the lanes and noted there was only one other person, who was watching the man with such intent I was sure they’d kill him. “It’s just you playing,” I half-laughed at the guy. He spun around on his toes and pointed a finger at me. I tried to not take it as accusatory, but everything in my body was telling me he meant it as such.

“I would have gotten that pin down if it wasn’t for you,” he half-shouted at me. I lifted my hands as some form of surrender as I stepped down to the lanes. The guy in the yellow bowling shirt looked at me and cocked his head. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just came down here to see if everything was alright… And if it was, I was just going back to work… Cleaning smelly rental, bowling shoes,” I gestured back towards the counter where a pile of rental shoes was sitting, waiting to be cleaned. “I just heard all the shouting down here and wanted to make sure someone wasn’t fighting with the balls,” I shrugged as I looked up at him. My joke about the balls was only mildly humorous if you knew that there were only 3 people in total in the alley. Myself, the angry stranger, and his unusual friend.

Glasses that kinda reminded me a little of Jeffery Dahmer sat on the tip of his nose, and just under his nose was a porn-stache. And the way he styled his hair just looked like a mop sitting on his head. But there was something, I don't know, attractive (I guess it was attractive) about this man. A certain handsomeness that I couldn’t exactly describe. 

“No, no, no one was fighting with the balls,” he spoke as he stepped closer to me. He looked down at me with a smile before resting both his hands on my shoulder. I sighed deeply as I stared up at him. “Now, go, run along… You said you have rental shoes to clean,” he smiled as he turned me around to face the 3 steps behind us. 

“Hold on,” I stepped away from him and turned back to face him. I had to crane my neck up to meet his stare, him being nearly a foot taller than me. “I can easily kick you out of here,” I scoffed as I looked at his shirt, finally noticing the patch sewn into the pocket of his shirt. The name Franklin was stitched into the patch with black thread in a fancy script. “Franklin,” I looked up at him and smiled. The cocky and smug expression on his face faltered for a moment as he looked at me. 

“Oh, aren’t you’re so cute,” he brought his hands to rest on my cheeks before squeezing them together, pushing my lips out. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?” he asked as he cocked his head to look down at me. I couldn’t exactly answer with my words, so I just nodded lightly. My eyes never left his face, and his never left mine.

“There’s just one thing you’re missing then. I own this place. This bowling alley... Is mine,” he kept his voice low as he spoke and the smugness returning, “Do you understand, Sunshine,” he asked, the condescension in his tone really coming out with the pet name he used. I tried to laugh and shake my head before I pulled away from his grasp. I stumbled back, nearly falling over the steps behind me.

“Since when are you my grandpa?” I asked, cocking my head to my shoulder. I could feel a teasing smile grow on my lips as I looked at him. His face shifted from being very smug to being shocked. “Yeah, bet you didn’t see that one coming… Did ya, Franklin,” I smiled at him. 

Franklin stepped back away from me but kept his stare on my face. “You’re not Hank’s grandkid. I would know when his grandkid would be here,” he pointed at me as he backed away from me. I snickered and shrugged.

“Well, you’d be wrong,” I smiled as I folded my arms over my chest. Franklin looked over his shoulder at his companion, seeking some sort of backup. But it was clear that she had no intentions in answering, she was far too busy just admiring him. How did he not see this as uncomfortable and wrong? 

“Aw, now you’re intimidated by the bowling alley girl? I don’t even bowl,” I scoffed before pulling my eyes off him, “I just work here,” I laughed. Franklin looked genuinely offended by my statement. Again, I don’t understand this town’s love for bowling.

“I’m sorry… What did you just say?” he looked at me and furrowed his eyebrows. Oh, I really did offend him… Do I feel sorry? Not really...

“Oh, yeah, you heard that right. It’s stupid. And, frankly, Franklin, I don’t understand how a town so quaint is so obsessed with throwing a ball at some plastic things,” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. He stepped closer to me, and for the briefest of moments, I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. And suddenly a tension was in the air between us. It was suffocating. “Did I make you mad? Did I piss poor Fwankwin off,” I furrowed my eyebrows and pouted, "Did I huwt your feewings," my head falling back as I broke into a fit of laughter.

“Be quiet,” Franklin scoffed as he stared at me. I felt my smile become a little smug as I looked up at him. 

“Oh? Really? Why don’t you make me?” I shrugged and stepped closer to him. We were so close, breathing each other’s air. One step from either of us and our chests would be pressed together. Our toes, however, were touching. His rented bowling shoes barely standing on my canvas shoes. 

That was when the air tensed even more. But, the level of tension shifted from an awkwardness… to a certain awkward-sexual tension. I personally loved it because he’s a dick. Men like him need to be messed with. Plus, I’m bored...

“Is that what you want me to do?” his voice was lower than before. My smile fell away and I swallowed roughly. I could feel my heart in my throat, cutting off any words I wanted to say. “Oh, I see how it is. All that snark and attitude is fake. Because the second someone… An older man, maybe, says something… It goes away,” he smirked as he slowly brought a hand to my face. I went to move my face away from his touch, but failed when he forced me to look at him.  

“You’re a brat,” he whispered as he kept his eyes on me. A shiver went down my spine and I had to press my legs together, slightly shifting my feet. I stared at him with wide eyes, feeling my breathing pick up slightly. 

And the moment was ruined before I even got the chance to say something. It seemed as if we both had forgotten something. Rather, someone. 

“We should get going, Franklin,” a voice asked from behind him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and pulled his hand from my face. It was obvious we both forgot that someone else was here. We were both so involved with each other that we just forgot about his companion. After a brief moment of awkward silence, he opened his eyes and looked at me, sighing deeply before speaking.

"I'm gonna be here late. You should just go home," Franklin spoke to his companion but kept his eyes strictly on me. His friend looked up at him like he was some sort of celebrity. I wasn’t exactly sure why she was staring at him like that. He wasn’t a god or anything. Unless he was, then I’d be screwed.

"It's okay. I can wait,” she smiled as she longingly looked at him. I looked back at Franklin before nodding to his friend. I’m starting to think she wasn’t even a friend of his… just a creepy and overly-devoted fan. I don’t think Franklin even noticed her obsession. “I’ll always wait for you, Franklin,” she murmured. I shifted on my foot before I stepped back.

“Bomber,” he spoke, turning to look at her. He looked down at her, his eyes telling her to leave. I only know that because Bomber (I suppose that’s her name) gathered her things and quickly left the alley. “Sorry, now where were we, Sunshine?” 

“Your friend seems nice,” I muttered, looking away from him for a brief moment. Franklin scoffed out a laugh before shaking his head.

 “She’s not a friend, just a teammate,” his voice was low as he brought a hand back to my face. Part of me was expecting him to be gentle, and I’m not really sure why I thought that. So when he jerked my head back up to look at him, I was left in shock. “But, that wasn’t where we left off. Bomber’s gone now,” he dropped his head down and looked at me through his eyelashes. 

“Which means we’re alone now,” I whispered as I kept my eyes on him. He smiled and nodded lightly before bringing my face closer to his.

“Now you’re getting it,” he returned the whisper before harshly pressing his lips to mine. I couldn’t help but moan as he pulled me closer to his body. It was so hard to keep my focus on the world around us. My knees carefully buckled beneath me. If it weren’t for Franklin, I probably would have fallen to the ground. He stood his ground firm, like he was a brick wall in the wind, keeping me upright as I almost fell to the ground. 

He moved his face away from mine, but we were still close enough to feel each other’s breath. Franklin moved his free hand to my hip before carefully pushing it past the waistband of my pants. My body shifted slightly, trying to get more of his touch against me.

“The… The door,” I whispered, my eyes going to the door. Although, I truthfully didn’t care too much about the door and it being unlocked. The bowling alley closes in 5 minutes anyways.

“Who cares about the fucking door,” he muttered. I instantly looked back at him, feeling a whimper work its way out of my mouth. Franklin smiled as he moved his hand against the flimsy cotton blocking his hand from where I wanted it most. 

“Please,” I whispered, moving my hips against his hand. I hated the way he smiled. Mostly because it only further turned me on.

“Ohh, you’re such a needy slut. So wet and I’ve barely done anything,” he whispered as he squeezed my cheeks again. “You’ll get what you want, in due time,” he smiled. He pushed my underwear to the side and carefully moved his fingers between my folds. I couldn’t help myself as I ground down on his hand.

“Franklin,” I whimpered, my eyebrows furrowing slightly. He smirked, watching as I struggled for a moment. His finger slowly moving around the sensitive bud at the apex of my legs. My hands quickly held his arms, I was worried I’d fall if I didn’t hold onto him. My legs and knees became more and more wobbly as time passed.  

“Don’t cum till I tell you you can, Pretty Girl,” he whispered and pouted, “how about you open that pretty little mouth of yours, Sunshine,” he whispered, moving one of his hands to rest on my chin. I widened my eyes and took a deep breath.

I kept my eyes on him, a shaky breath leaving me, as I slowly opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out. Franklin smiled slightly before holding my cheeks and spitting right onto my tongue. He nudged my mouth shut, forcing me to hold his spit in my mouth for a moment. I had to force myself not to gag as I held his spit before swallowing it. 

“What a good little whore,” Franklin cooed, cocking his head to his shoulder. I took a shaky breath as his movements in my pants picked up pace. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked at me. I wanted to have a snarky reply, I really did. But I swear to god, my mouth and body betrayed me because an honest to god moan came from me. 

“Oh, you certainly did enjoy that,” he laughed as his movements in between my legs quickened. I looked up at him with wide eyes as a familiar tension grew in my abdomen.

But instead of saying anything else, he just put his mouth over mine, swallowing whatever sounds emitted from my mouth. He smiled, clearly enjoying my mild suffering. 

My body struggled to move, almost missing the sign of Franklin moving. On wobbly legs, my feet carried me backwards, and with Franklin's guidance, up the steps. My arms were wrapped around his neck to keep close to him. 

I was so close, I could feel the tension about to snap within me. The noises that were coming from me were becoming more desperate the closer I got to the snap. Franklin didn't seem bothered by my sounds at all. In fact, he was amused. 

He was so amused, that when he pulled his hands from my pants and pushed me over the counter, he laughed when I cried out. I wasn't sure the sound was from annoyance from him stopping, or from shock from being pushed down over the counter. His hand was firmly placed on my back, keeping me in place.

“What was that for!?” I shouted, trying to stand back up, only to be forced back down by Franklin, “You better do something better than leaving me high and dry! I swear to God!” I shouted as I wiggled my butt into his crotch. A certain hardness pressed into my butt and leg, causing me (and Franklin) to hold back a groan. Franklin’s hand was still around my waist, planted firmly on my hip to hold me against him. “Please, just fuck me already! Fuck!” I shifted my feet a bit and tightly pressed my thighs. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Franklin laughed as he shoved his knee between my legs, blocking his foot between mine to keep my legs apart more, “If you’re going to finish, you’re gonna finish on my cock. You got that, Sunshine?” he groaned as he pressed his front into my butt more. I bit my lips together, nodded and whined, hoping that was a good enough answer. “Uh huh, use your words, Sunshine. Do you understand that?” he asked as he leaned closer to my ear.

“Yes! Yes, I understand! Please,” I whimpered as his grip loosened on my hip and moved to the button of my jeans. I let out a deep relieved sigh as my jeans fell to the ground around my ankles. Although my moment of relief and excitement was cut short by a loud crack in the air, and a sudden pain on my bottom. 

“Fuck!” I gasped once I finally regained the ability to talk and breathe. My chest began heaving as my body started to get more worked up. The sudden smack on my ass went straight to my core, causing me to involuntarily moan. Franklin laughed lightly, and I could just see him shaking his head in amusement.

“What do you want, Sunshine?” Franklin asked, his voice low, lower than before. I swallowed roughly before lifting my head slightly.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, trying hard to look over my shoulder at him. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and his hair was covering his eyes. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth and swept across his lower lip.

“Wrong,” he muttered before striking my butt again. A pleased shriek fell from my lips as I dropped my head down to the counter. “What do you want,” 

“Franklin, please,” my words were soft as my breathing got rougher, “Fuck me, please, do… Do whatever you-you want… To me,” my statement was punctuated by another strike on my ass. A mix of a cry and a moan escaped my lips as he gently rubbed the sore spot on my bottom. But it was only a moment before he smacked my other butt cheek. 

“Do it again! Please,” I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. I waited for his hand to make contact with my bare bottom again, but instead, I got nothing. I sucked in a deep breath before letting out a soft whimper, “Please,” I begged as I swayed my hips slightly from side to side. I hoped my begging would have given me what I wanted. But at this point, I’m not sure what I wanted more, to be fucked by him, or to be spanked by him over, and over again.

After he spanked my butt for the 6th time, Franklin’s hand grazed over each cheek before lightly dragging his fingers over my core. 

“You’re so wet, Sunshine,” he whispered as he moved his fingers over my cunt. Any response I thought I had gone out the window when he pushed two fingers into my entrance. So, I guess my response came in as a moan. “Fuck,” he groaned with pleasure.  

I was in trouble. He knew that too. The way he was playing with me, toying with me to get even the slightest reaction. Trying to get me as close as possible, without actually getting me over the edge. But whenever he curled his fingers just right, or just slightly touched my clit. 

“I-I’m so close,” I cried, my body moving closer to him. Franklin laughed again as he pulled his hand away from my body. This was the first time tonight that he wasn’t touching me. His hands were away from me, and as I tried to move closer to him I found nothing.

“Stay still, I want to remember this moment,” Franklin muttered as he rested a hand on my lower back, “Are you ready, Sunshine,” he asked, his tone seemed gentle. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Mmm-hmm, yes,” I nodded, feeling my hair move around before finally falling around my face. My body shivered as the sound of his zipper went down. And my body jerked once his hands were on my hips. 

I folded my arms on the counter. But what I should have done was brace myself against it in a better way. My body’s excitement was getting the better of me, and I could feel myself stray from the counter, and slowly towards his body.

“Stay still,” he muttered as he pushed me closer to the counter. My lungs ceased to function as I felt him rub the head of his cock against my slit. I choked back a moan and pressed  my lips together. And then he slowly began pushing into my entrance.

“Oh god,” I cried, pressing my face into my arms. 

“Name’s Franklin, but God works just fine,” he laughed behind me as he slowed his entrance. I gasped as he stopped, before slamming fully into me in one go. I couldn’t stop the shout that came from the pit of my stomach.

Once we were both used to each other, he started moving, his hips quickly finding a rhythm we were both pleased with. The silent room was quickly occupied by the grunts or moans from its only two occupants, and the sound of skin hitting skin.

I slowly lifted my head, looking out at the bowling alley. Is it bad that I didn’t think that this was weird or bad? That I was being fucked over the counter by a guy I just met? What would my grandfather think if he ever knew about this? Good thing he was never going to find out.

Franklin wrapped my hair around his hand before pulling me back up so my back was flush against his chest. His movements stilled, his hips pressed against mine as he stayed totally in me. My body froze like ice as I tried to take a deep breath. My senses were suddenly overwhelmed, and I honestly loved it. 

“Fuck,” I cried, pushing my hips against him to get some sort of relief. But I only groaned as he wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me still as well. “Please,”

“So greedy, so filthy,” Franklin groaned as he buried himself deeper into me. I whimpered as I bit my lips. The bitter, metallic taste of blood found its way to my tastebuds. “How does that feel? Does it feel good,” his voice was so low, nearly a growl in my ear. I sucked in a deep breath of air, slowly turning my face to look at him. “Just holding my cock in you?” he asked before pressing his lips harshly to the side of my face. 

“I… I do…” I spoke quickly and in a harsh whisper. My muscles clenched around him, wanting something to give me help for my finish. While Franklin kept his lips pressed to the side of my face, while his hands were otherwise preoccupied. One hand was holding one of my breasts, gently kneading at it. While the other was between my legs, slowly moving around my sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, please move,” I whimpered, pressing my shoulder into his shoulder a bit more. Franklin removed his hand from my chest before gently pushing me back over the counter. I let out a pleased moan once he started moving his hips again. It only took a matter of moments before the tension in me snapped, sending me over the edge. My vision turned white, and my hands balled into fists, my nails would cause indentations in my palms once my hands relaxed.

And, after a few more faulty thrusts into me, Franklin finished close behind me. His body hunched over mine, his hands holding himself up on the counter beside me. Neither of us wanted to move, still trying to calm down from what just happened. But also, the mess to follow once he finally stepped away from me. 

“I didn’t know I needed that,” I truthfully stated. Franklin laughed before standing upright. I’d be lying if I said I wanted him to step away from me. So when he eventually did, I held back the whimper. 

“Paper towels?” he asked as he fixed himself back into his pants. I swallowed roughly as I blindly pointed towards where I was cleaning the rental bowling shoes. He stepped away from me, going to grab the things he sought after. 

The mixture of the two of us slowly leaked down my inner thigh, and I just knew that mess would not be fun to clean, now or later. When Franklin returned and wiped a damp paper towel up my thigh, I jumped. 

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked as he helped me stand up straight. My legs and knees were so shaky, I almost fell. He wrapped his arms around me to keep me upright. I only struggled a little bit to pull my jeans and underwear back up, but I was very relieved when they were back around my waist.

“I had a great time,” he laughed. I swallowed roughly before stepping back away from him. I hoisted myself up so I was sitting on the counter, only to let out a sharp cry and jump off the counter. How the fuck did I forget about the pain on my ass?

“Did it feel like winning?” I asked, feeling a smile grow on my lips. Franklin looked up at me with a sly smile, cocking his head to his shoulder.

“I always win in this bowling alley, Sunshine,” he muttered as he stared at me. I blinked slowly. “Except for that one time. But every time after… Always a win,”

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

[vidalinav]

Hell yes I LOVE hurt, angst, there is some kind of problem/tension fanfics and you are serving up artistic compositions over here.

I want no one to remember Nesta’s birthdays

no one to show up to Nesta’s birthday party besides 1 or 2 people

Cassian to truly see Mor for who she is and reflect on all she’s done to Nesta

I want a Rhys Nesta screaming fight

I want content about how bad of a King and Queen Feyre and Rhysand are and all these people (HIS people) that he has abandoned

God idk what else bc there is so much that we were left missing in the last book, shit we wanna change in the series, &future questions and I’m just super happy you producing this content and can’t wait to read it!

I love angst, but... I really like complicated, drama filled angst. So I would want people to show up to Nesta’s birthday, but I would want them to have the most generic ass gifts wheras Cassian, Emerie, Gwyn, and Azriel are like “Here Nesta, we thought of you when we picked these out.” Like her friends gifts are so thoughtful, and the IC’s gifts ehh... I like the thought of Nesta being civil to them but them really trying harder to be her friend and have her officially join their workforce *cough cough* excuse me, family. But they fail miserably, and instead of thinking “hey it’s our fault” they think “Nesta is avoiding us and she doesn’t want to be around us. what did we do? She thinks were bad people, well... she’s the one who has the bad attitude.” Like give me them misinterpreting everything, because that’s what they do in canon, and Nesta again looking like the bad guy and none of it was there fault. Also, I feel that Nesta would probably only want 1 or 2 people to be at her party, Emerie, Gwyn. BAM, so social interaction and big parties would be the horror story for her. 

I personally want Emerie to be the one who sees Mor as maybe a bit of an ass, but I wrote a post about that before. I just love the thought of a beautiful person getting uglier because of their personality being slowly revealed, but also I have no faith that Cassian would tell Mor anything. He might do it gently or like “Stop! I know you have good intentions and you were protective, but she’s my girl.” I don’t feel he’d be extremely accusatory, because he’s not... I hate it. But Emerie could be, or at least I envision her being petty and I LOVE that.

I do want Rhys and Nesta to have a screaming fight... or maybe a very passive aggressive discussion... yeah (nodding). Almost threatening. Glares and tight words. Everyone looking at Nesta then back to Rhys then back to Nesta. These smiles that they give each other in between insults that don’t sound like insults but are insults. HAHA I would be entertained. 

With the bad High Lord and Lady, I actually have always wanted to write where Feyre is severely disadvantaged in court politics. I don’t know if SJM meant for that to happen, but as evidenced by the book Feyre doesn’t do anything, and now because of the baby situation and not telling her, and the fact that we got a lot of times where Feyre was only called after Rhys had delegated, or Feyre’s decision was only slightly respected, Rhys by god made the whole scenario of the intervention, I really don’t see how she’s equal or how she has a voice as hinted BY THE TEXT. I would really really love that to be a conflict in their mating/ruling, because for fuck’s sake this girl has to actually have a fight with this guy that doesn’t immediately result in sex. Like actually have a conversation where she sees him as a normal person and not like upholding to the love of her life or the savior who rescued her from an abuser and gave her a family. So in that scenario, conflict is made because Feyre does get involved more in court rulings and she does see the problems that have always existed and will always exist because ruling is not easy, but then Rhys is also like why didn’t you tell me you were going to make that decision, and she’s like why?? And he’s not angry but he’s like wtf is happening I thought we were... good? and also now that they have a baby, I want that to be a conflict too. Because two people working is hard enough to have a baby and to be totally involved with the child without having a nanny or daycare. They’re rulers, I’d imagine that’s like having to work full time. So I want them to feel guilty, and for them to immediately lean on the idea that one of them should stay home and raise the baby, and I want this to be a feminist conflict that they’re faced with and I want it to challenge the idea of the equality they think they have, because both of them have biases of what a women’s role is, even if they don’t necessarily agree or uphold them. They exist, and one parent staying home and child rearing is... easier for certain situations. Though ultimately I do want them to be okay with hiring someone to take care of Nyx and to split ruling evenly and just try and make it work the best they can. Feyre being as important with ruling as Rhys. 

I just want complicated narratives. Like I want healing to be an up and down battle. Anger to be an ever present knot in the stomach that spews out of the mouth in the most inconvenient times and never really ebbs away. Sadness to be always lingering, tinging even happy moments with skewed perspectives. I want tension that is not so easily mitigated. Social interactions where no one is ever really right, but someone is more wrong than the other. Because if I have all of this, then the happy moments, the true triumph of people coming together seems so much greater and worked for and earned than just immediately jumping from conflict, resolution, to reward.

ACOSF wasn’t complex enough to be fulfilling for me. So ONE DAY, I will start writing fics again that are what I want to read. But until then... I have my headcanons I suppose.

[lonelyreputation]

Two Pizzerias (Pizza Rivalry AU)

A/N: For some reason when I read “like Romeo and Juliet” my mind automatically went to a pizzeria rivalry…Idk either…But it was super fun to write! So sorry it took me forever to write this @theregoesmyherojd but I hope you enjoy it!! 

Request: Can you do a blurb or story about maybe something where Shawn is in love with this girl and her dad doesn’t like him or want her to be with him so she’s forced to choose between leaving him or staying with him & make their love real fluffy but dad part like Romeo and Juliet

Warnings: Arguing & a swear word here and there

WC: 8.1K // Fluff w. a hint of angst 

It was a normal Tuesday in your family’s pizza shop, you were mixing up the large caprese salad on the front counter, and just when you waved goodbye to a family leaving the pizzeria, a man with a red face flew through the door.

You rolled your eyes knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Oh, Manny,” your dad walked out of the kitchen with a sly smile on his face, “What a lovely––”

Manny Mendes––the owner of the pizzeria diagonal from your family’s pizzeria––pointed an accusatory finger at your dad, “You purposefully had the truck load out your supplies right in front of my shop.”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

You rolled your eyes at your father’s snarky quip as you placed the caprese salad in its place next to the pastas, and other easy to serve meals that were behind glass so customers could see their options.

“You’re trying to sabotage––”

“I would do no such thing–––”

Manny stood stiff, fists curled tightly at his sides, as he spoke over your father, “You’re just jealous that we opened up seven years ago and are doing better than your dinky shop that’s been here for decades.”

Your dad’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened at the insult, “Dinky?!”

With your father’s full attention on Manny, he didn’t see the slight shake of your shoulders as you let out a chuckle.  The bickering continued, and when you were sure your father wouldn’t notice, you took an oven mitt, opened up the large brick oven that customers always ogled at when they walked in, and carefully slid out a garlic knot.

Manny and your father were still arguing about whose pizzeria was better and why as you quickly ran to the back kitchen, tossing the piping hot garlic knot between your hands like a game of hot potato, and grabbed a sheet of tin foil to wrap it up.

“Going somewhere?” Your mother raised an eyebrow at you as she carried a very large mixing bowl full of shredded mozzarella cheese.

You hid the lone garlic knot, wrapped tightly in tin foil, behind your back, “Dad and Manny are at it again––Figured I’d like––Not be there.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and placed the silver bowl down on the counter where she prepped her pizzas, “Again?” She wiped her hands on he rwhite apron, “I’ll sort it out.”

There wasn’t a door from the back kitchen to the front of the store––Let the aromas fill up the shop, it was your grandfather’s vision––so you heard your mom, loud and clear, as she broke up their weekly fight.  Not waiting for her to get back, and not wanting to get caught, you made a dash to the back door––grabbing your backpack on the way––and found yourself in the alley way.

You took in a deep breath, smelling the aroma of the pizza floating outside, and then started walking.  The sound of cars and people chattering were drowning out the further away you walked from main street.  Once you got to the end of the alley, you turned left, and a smile brightened up your face as you saw Shawn sitting on the curb.

With the sound of your footsteps, he lifted his head up and his smile matched yours.  

You breathed out a relieved sigh through your nostrils and restrained yourself from skipping over to him.  Opting for a quick power walk, you were over to him in a matter of seconds, plopping yourself down on the curb next to him.

Immediately, you rested your head on his shoulder, and he brought an arm around your shoulder to hold you close.  He placed a kiss on the top of your head before resting his cheek on your head; his stray curls––that never stayed in place––lightly brushed against your forehead, tickling you.

“Did you bring the garlic knot?”

You let out a small laugh as you regretfully detached yourself from him.  Slipping your backpack from your shoulders, you brought it in between your legs, unzipping it and pulling out a tin foil wrapped garlic knot.

Shawn’s eyes softened as he looked at the garlic knot, licking his lips in anticipation.  He reached a hand out, but you pulled the garlic knot back, keeping it out of his reach.  

Shawn let out a whine as you dangled the piece of bread in the air, “Do you have my pizza slice?”

Shawn’s mouth dropped into a perfectly round circle, “Oh.”  And just like you, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out a piece of tinfoil, “Almost forgot.”

“That’s pizza…” You said warily and looked at him with concerned eyes, “How could you forget you had pizza in your bag?”  He shrugged his shoulders with a sheepish smile, “That would smell up your bag if you left it in there.”

Again, Shawn shrugged his shoulders again, “It’s happened before.”  You decided to ignore his obscenely boy-ish remark as you reached your hand out for the slice of pizza.

But just like you, Shawn held it up high above his head, with a smirk, “Give me a kiss.”

Your shoulders dropped and you let out a deep sigh in faux annoyance, “I just want pizza––”

“Nuh uh,” Shawn shook his head and puckered up his lips, making an over exaggerated kissing noise, “Kiss or no pizza.”

With a small smile toying at the corners of your lips, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips.  It was an innocent kiss, his lips only lingered for a few seconds, and you felt the butterflies really erupt in your stomach when he nibbled on your bottom lip.  

As much as you would want to spend all day kissing Shawn, it wasn’t realistic for two reasons: one, you had limited time before you both had to get back to your pizzerias, and two, you really wanted that slice of pizza.  So you pulled away and snatched the pizza from his hold with a victorious smile.

“Hey–––”

“Suck it up, pizza boy,” you said as you tossed him the garlic knot, laughing at how he almost fell backwards trying to catch it, “Be thankful I snuck a garlic knot for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn rolled his eyes as he unwrapped the tinfoil, “Be thankful I snuck a slice for you––Do you know how hard that was to sneak out?”

You let out a laugh as you leaned the tinfoil on your bent knees and took ahold of the corner, beginning to unwrap it, “Ah, you remembered a plate,” you laughed as you thought back to the last time Shawn brought you a pizza, without a plate, and the grease got everywhere, “My hero.”

Shawn ignored your comment and took a bite of the garlic knot.  He was mid-chew when he closed his eyes in bliss and let out a moan that was normally reserved after the two of you spent an intimate time together.

“This––The ‘est––Arlic ‘ead,” Shawn spoke before he swallowed, “I could literally live off those.”

You nodded your head in agreement, and had the decency to swallow before you spoke, unlike the boy in front of you, “I could live off your pizza.  If only my dad would try it, he’d drop all sense of competitiveness.”

“He’d come to realize that our pizza is better than yours and want to step up his game.”

You narrowed your eyes and whacked him in the chest, “Asshole.”

“You love me,” Shawn sang as he scooched closer to you and put his arm back around our shoulder as you lifted up the slice of pizza for him to take a bite.  He took a generous bite, which caused you to glare at him, before sighing, “We probably have to get back after you finish the slice.”

“I’ll set a world record for slowest pizza slice eater,” you tried to make a joke, but your voice was dismal, and Shawn’s eyes didn’t hold the same happy-go-lucky gleam.  “I hate this,” you set the plate down on the pavement and leaned into his chest.

Shawn rounded both arms around you, rubbing his familiar hands up and down your back, “I know.” He kissed the top of your head and you sat in silence, wrapping your arms around his torso and hugging him tight.

It wasn’t long before both you and Shawn reluctantly pulled away from each other because if you were gone for any longer both of your families would be suspicious of your whereabouts.  With hands clasped tightly together, you walked together the alleyway where you would take a right on to get back to your pizzeria.  Shawn would continue walking straight, behind the shops, until he got to a traffic light to cross the street to get to his pizzeria.

He placed two fingers under your chin, lifting your chin up just slightly, so he could place a gently parting kiss to your lips.  And just like every time when your time was up and he kissed you, you clutched the front of his shirt in hopes it would keep him pressed to you for just a moment longer.  

All you ever wanted was a moment longer with longer.  And at night, when the clock struck 11:11, that was all you wished for.

Once he pulled away, you watched him walk all the way down the back of shops until you couldn’t see him anymore, before you trudged up the alleyway back to your pizzeria.  The sounds of people chatting became louder and you heard the honks of cars on the main street.  You pushed open the back door, dropped your backpack off in your mom’s office, and trudged back up to the front to take your place behind the register.

You felt like a robot; swiping credit cards, counting back change, and saying a cheerful enjoy as customers either sat at a table or carried out their meals.  Your father continued to grumble about the Mendes's pizzeria when there wasn’t a customer in ear shot to hear his petty comments.

“He’s got a boy around your age, Y/n,” your dad said in a forewarning tone.  Usually when he tried to push boys away from you, he always said it in a jestting manner, but when he spoke of Shawn, his words were low and lethal.

“Yeah,” you warily glanced behind your shoulder to see your dad sliding in a long wooden peel to take out a pepperoni pizza, “I think I’ve seen him around.”

As he shimmied the freshly cooked pizza off the wooden peel, and onto a large circular metal plate, he gave you another warning, “I don’t want you near him,” he rested the wooden peel against the counter, “He could try something to get our family recipe.”

You let out a laugh at how unbelievable he sounded, but the pointed look he gave you instantly made you cover your laugh up as a cough, “Alright, dad.”

He gave you a curt nod as he opened up the upper portion of the brick oven, “This pizza goes to table six––Hm, I thought I had two dozen garlic knots in here…” your father’s words trailed off as he recounted the garlic knots again, “We’re one short––”

You felt your stomach drop.  He had never been so meticulous with something he made as often as his garlic knots.  And to avoid any further conversation, you quickly grabbed the tray of pepperoni pizza and rounded the counter, “Heading to table six!”

The befuddled look on your dad’s face as he counted the garlic knots three more times was a bit amusing, and you had trouble concealing your smile as you delivered the pizza to table six, because you knew exactly where that garlic knot went.

///

A few weeks later, just as the clock struck a little after 11 and you triple checked to make sure your parents were asleep, you snuck out of your house.  Lifting up your window with both of your hands, it was impossible to ignore the warm summer breeze that tickled your skin.  Climbing out onto your roof, you shut your window, but made sure that it was open just enough to slide your fingers through for when you returned. Carefully, you walked along the roof to the tree that had a few branches within arms reach to hook onto and climb down.

Once you successfully climbed down the tree, something you’ve done plenty of times to continue your secret rendezvous with Shawn, you walked for about ten minutes until you got to a park.  The park had been your unofficial meeting spot for late night’s when either one of you wanted to spend time with each other.  And it helped that it was right between your house and Shawn’s house.

You squinted through the night sky, that was slightly illuminated by the lights in the park, to see a figure swinging on the swings.  Wondering if someone had taken your unofficial claimed spot with Shawn, you carefully walked further into the park.  Upon walking closer, you saw that it was just Shawn swinging high on the swings.

A smile spread across your face as you walked toward him––Shawn cheerfully calling out your name as he continued to swing––and you sat on the empty swing next to him.

“Careful!” You warned Shawn as he swung backwards and then pumped his arms forward, “No need to get hurt.”

Shawn let out a laugh, “Oh relax,” but you winced when he swung so high that you thought he was going to go over the bar and fall off, “Let’s see who can swing the highest.”

“I think you already have me beat,” you gripped the cold metal chains of the swing as Shawn whooshed passed you, causing you to squeeze your eyes tight as you felt the breeze from his speed hit your face, “Shawn, please––”

“Swing first, worry later.”

You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior, but it was one of the things you loved about him.  So, you kicked your feet back on the dirt, leaned back, and pumped your arms to get the swinging motion started.  It took a few minutes, but you were up at Shawn’s height with the swing.

“Hey, look,” Shawn turned his head toward you with a smile, “We’re married.”

You turned your head toward him with a confused stare, but then realized he was talking about how you both swung forward and backward at the same time.  Rolling your eyes, you shouted over the sound of the wind that was caused by both of you swinging, “I’ve never heard it referred to it as that before.”

“Never?!” Shawn was shocked, “What kind of childhood did you have?”

You decided to ignore his comment, “Jump on three?”

Shawn leaned his head back in laughter as he continued moving his arms, “You were all ‘oh Shawn, not too high’ and now you want to jump?!”

You glared at his impersonation of your voice, “So you want to get off the swing the boring way?”

“Knew I loved you for a reason,” he winked, “On three?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip to conceal the growing on your face, as you looked forward, “One–––”

“––Two––”

“––Three––Jump!”

At the same time, you both jumped off your swings.  You let out a shriek of fright and Shawn let out a laugh as both of you tumbled onto the ground.  An uncomfortable jolt of pain skyrocketed up your body which caused you to squeeze your eyes tighter and curl your legs up to your chest.

Shawn’s laughter died down as you felt him touch your shoulder, “You alright?”  

You peaked an eye open to see him rolled onto his side and eyes wide with concern, “Yeah,” you scrunched up your nose and stretched out your legs, “Just hurts a little.”

Shawn offered you a sympathetic smile and a hand, which you gladly took, as he pulled you up, “Well hopefully some food will help.”

Without letting go of your hand, Shawn led you over to where he set up a blanket.  The two of you sat down and when he was rummaging through his backpack pulling out plates and silverware, you grumbled, “Please tell me you didn’t bring pizza.”

While you loved his family’s pizza, it was the only thing Shawn had been sneaking from the pizzeria and giving you during your alley way meet ups.

He let out a boisterous laugh as he pulled out a container, “Not quite––It’s still from my parents place because I’m too lazy to actually put something together.”

Once he opened the fogged up container, you immediately leaned closer to whiff as much of the delicious scent as possible, “Chicken alfredo.”

“With penne,” Shawn added in, crossing his ankles, “I know that’s your favorite so I hid all the fettuccine noodles from my mom.” He broke eye contact with you, a little embarrassed at his confession.

Many people would think hiding noodles from your parents wasn’t a big deal.  But, you knew from experience, that when your parents owned a pizzeria with other Italian cuisine, they liked to use specific noodles for their creations.  So Shawn hiding his mom’s noodles from her made your heart soar.  And you realized just how much he loved you.

Not wanting to embarrass him further, you picked up a fork and stabbed a few penne noodles with it, “Oh nooo,” you waved the pasta up in the air, Shawn looking at you with his eyebrows raised in amusement, “How could I possibly eat food made by the enemy,” you smirked before you opened your mouth wide and took a bite of the creamy pasta.

Shawn’s eyes crinkled as he laughed at your over dramatic antics and it only caused you to feel your face warm up.  The plates were long forgotten as both you and Shawn proceeded to stick your forks in the container he brought the pasta in, “My dad would absolutely flip if he saw me right now.”

Shawn nodded his head as he chewed his pasta, talking with his mouth full, “So would mine,” He finished chewing, and once he swallowed the food, he shrugged his shoulders, “But it’s been seven months, so I think we’re fine.”

You chuckled and picked up a piece of chicken with your fork, “A modern day Romeo and Juliet.”

“Two pizzerias, both alike in dignity,” Shawn put on the worst British accent you had ever heard, as you watched him move his hands in a dramatic story-telling fashion. While he looked all serious, you were falling over in laughter, “In fair Pickering, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny where pizza sauce,” he moved his hands in a continuous circle in front of his face, “and cheese makes civil hands unclean.”

He finished off his over dramatic reciting of the opening line to Romeo and Juliet with jazz hands.

You were in stitches, clutching your stomach as tears leaked out from the corner of your eyes, “You’re––You’re such a dork.”

“Didn’t major in literature for nothing,” he tickled your sides which only caused you to laugh louder.

You pushed his hands away and sat up, sitting with your shoulders touching, both your legs and his were stretched out, and his fingers shyly inched their way towards yours as if it was the first time you were holding hands, “Have you decided what you’re going to do with it?”

Shawn shrugged his shoulders as he traced random shapes on the top of your hand with his index finger, “Might teach? I doubled up on lit and education so that seems like the only logical thing to do.”  You hummed in response as he knocked his foot against yours, “What’s your plan, Juliet?”

You shoved his shoulder at his awful attempt of a joke, but he caught your hand and laced your fingers together before your hand could fall down on the blanket, “Was talking with some friends about moving to the city.”

“Toronto?”

Nodding your head slowly, you shyly looked up at him, his tone was full of surprise and you didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Maybe?” You shuddered at the sound of your uncertain squeaky voice, “I’ve applied to some jobs, talked about signing a lease with some friends––and,” you let out a sigh because he seemed to have everything figured out, “I don’t know.”

Shawn untangled your hands and threw his arm back around your shoulder, opting to have you closer to him than just holding hands.  You leaned your head on his shoulder, a position you felt was more comfortable than the pillows on your bed, as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“Not taking over the shop?” His tone was curious.

You gulped, “It’ll break my dad’s heart, but…” your words trailed off and Shawn squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, silently whispering that if you didn’t feel comfortable telling him you didn’t have to.  But this was Shawn, someone you would risk it all for––someone you were risking it all for––so you continued on, “I’ve literally been at that shop since I was born––I took my first steps there––and while taking it over sounded fun at seventeen…It’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?” He was quick with a response, and you lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him with a tilt of your head, as he bumped his shoulder against yours, “Hm?”

“Right now?” He nodded, and when he looked at you with only a few scattered park lights illuminating your face, all you saw was fondness and care in his eyes, “To stop sneaking around with you.”

Shawn let out a deep sigh.  You’ve had this conversation before plenty of times, and it always ends with him explaining why that’s not a good idea, “Y/n…”

You shook your head angrily, moving away from his hold, as you let your insecurities take over, “Do you not want to be seen with me?”

He scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, and while you knew it was only your fears that rationalized that scenario with you, part of you couldn’t shut off that lingering thought.  

“That’s not––You know that’s not it,” his eyes were narrowed, but they softened up when he saw the genuine fear in your eyes of thinking he didn’t want to be seen with you.  He scooched closer to you, not liking how you put so much physical distance between the two of you, and took hold of both of your hands, “I love you, you know that, things are just,” he tilted his head side to side, trying to find the right word, “…complicated.”

With clenched teeth, you nodded your head, because while everyone else would see this as a complicated situation, you couldn’t see past how foolish the situation was you were in with Shawn.

“This is––All of this––the sneaking around––” your voice cracked, “It’s pizza.”

Shawn’s shoulders dropped at how absolutely defeated you sounded because he understood.  He felt like the absolute worst boyfriend not being able to take you out on public dates, afraid that one of your parent’s friends would see; Pickering was a small town after all.  He wanted to be everything you deserved, but the situation with both of your families was not ideal.

With slumped shoulders, eyes casted downward in a mournful gaze, as he let out a deep breath, knowing you wouldn’t like what he was going to say, “It’s their whole lives, Y/n––”

“Fucking losers.”

The mournful look Shawn had on his face disappeared with your comment as he let out a loud laugh that no doubt caused a few of the park’s neighbors to wake up in the middle of the night.  He kissed the pout off your face and pulled you in close to his chest.  Because no matter how hard it was between your families, the flame that ignited your relationship was still burning, even in the middle of the night.

///

The summer season was coming to an end, and the way your good old town of Pickering celebrated was shutting down the main street for a block party.  Stores would have their doors opened, welcoming customers just as much as the summer air, and restaurants were allotted a certain amount of street space to set up tables outside.  It was a festivity you looked forward to every year.

But with the block party comes competition.  Judges came around and taste tested all the food in the small radius and rate the best in its category, and then the best restaurant overall.  When the Mendes’s first opened up shop diagonal from your family’s pizzeria, they had taken home the top two prizes three years in a row.  It had made your father explode with anger and it was an unspoken rule that you never talked about those summers.

“We need to make sure we sell more pizzas,” your father said as he placed silverware on top of the napkins you set down on the tables outside.

You looked at your dad, who was double checking that the silverware was properly set, and let out a sigh as the napkins went limp in your hand, “Dad…”

He held up a hand for you to stop talking so he could concentrate on counting the utensils,  “We need to sell more and we need to impress the judges,” he said as he moved onto the next table, you followed and started putting down the napkins, “We beat the Mendes’s last year for best pizza and we need to keep it up.”

You continued to walk around the circular table and place napkins down, saying your next sentence with little interest, “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?”

Expecting your dad to be finished placing the silverware on the table, you moved onto the next.  But when you looked up to see that he was not trailing you like usual, you saw him looking at you with his jaw dropped, a gobsmacked expression painted clearly on his face.

“This is our livelihood, Yn,” he stared over your shoulder, glaring at the Mendes’s pizzeria, “Cheapskates––They put their son on as hostess?”

That piqued your interest.  Normally, Shawn either flipped the pizza’s in the air to show off or he worked behind the counter at the register, much like you.  You turned your head over your shoulder and saw that he was at the hostess stand, wearing an all black outfit similar to yours.

“They have him up there so he can use his charm and ‘good looks’ on the girls,” he scoffed, “Boy needs a haircut.”

You frowned, while his hair was getting a little longer––he always brushed off your advances of making him a hair appointment––but that wasn’t the thing you were concerned about.  Because you saw Shawn across the street, leaning against the wooden podium, with three girls around him that looked to be around your age.  You felt your hands grip the napkins hard when you saw them throw their head’s back in laughter.

While you couldn’t clearly see his face, you knew he was showcasing his signature smirk.  And when he picked up three menus, and extended his arm, you saw the girl’s shoulders rise up and down with giggles as they stared at his muscles.

“Want me to go over there?” Your voice was stoic as you narrowed your eyes at the girl’s blatantly checking out your boyfriend as he led them to their table.

“Into enemy territory?”

You looked at your dad and offered him an overly enthusiastic smile, showing all your teeth, “just to scope out the competition.”

Your father’s smile grew at your ‘diabolical’ plan, “I’m proud that you're my daughter,” he walked a few steps over to you and patted your shoulder, “I think your mom needs help in the kitchen so I’m going to head back there.”

As your father turned his back to you, your smile dropped.  With a huff, you threw the wrinkled napkins on the table, and walked across the street.  You were walking past the tabel the girls were sat at and it only made your blood boil more when one of the girls said they were going to leave their number for him on a napkin.

Shawn was oblivious, head leaning on the inner part of his palm as his elbow rested on the podium, but once you were almost right up to the podium, he blinked a few times and smiled wide.

“What are you doing here?” He lifted his head to look over your shoulder, “Does your dad––”

You waved him off, voice still rigid, “He thinks I’m spying on you.”

Shawn quirked an eyebrow up and slightly leaned back, “Are you?”

You mouth dropped as you let out an audible gasp, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion at his sudden distrust, “Are you serious?”

Noticing your offended posture, Shawn quickly shook his head as he held his hands up and waved them in front of him like he was surrendering, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just––Sorry.”

“Mhhm,” you crossed your arms over your chest and nodded, pushing his excuse under the rug, “Have fun chatting to the girls?”

Shawn’s cheeks heated up as he looked down and shuffled with the menus on the podium, “You saw that?”

“Yeah, I’m right across the street, in case you forgot.” you said in a displeased tone, “Trying to charm them with your good looks?”

His head popped up and you were instantly met with his famous smirk, “You think I’m good looking?”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up.”  And even though you had loved him for eight months, you still felt a tiny bit of embarrassment, with a hint of excitement, flood your stomach when he gave you that look.

“I’m really not trying to flirt with them,” Shawn’s voice was soft, but his tone was serious, “I only have one girl on my mind.”

You felt the warm fuzzy feeling anchor down in your stomach when he said those words.  You turned your head to the side, trying to be as discreet as possible, and rested your hands on the top edge of the podium.  Shawn seemed to get the hint as he straightened his posture, looking left and right to make sure the coast was clear of any onlookers, before slightly placing his hands on top of yours.

A shy smile crossed your face as you looked down at your hands, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You looked up and saw Shawn smiling down at you as his brown eyes shined when the sun hit them, making you fall a little bit more in love with him, “And I thank my lucky stars each night before I go to bed.”

You rolled your eyes and slid one hand out from under his and leaned over the podium to slap his chest, “That was grossly cheesy.  Don’t ever say that again.”

“But you love me,” he sang.

Again, you rolled his eyes at his childish behavior, “Alright, Romeo, I have to get back,” you moved your head in the direction of your pizzeria, “Just wanted to make sure my boyfriend didn't get any ideas.”

“Never,” Shawn winked, “Our parents should be busy with the judges around the same time, so…Meet at our spot at like four?”

“It’s a date.” You nodded with a smile, patting his hand one last time, before whirling around and trying your hardest not to skip back to your family’s pizzeria.

///

Once four o’clock rolled around, you told your parents that you were going on a walk for your break.  Your parents waved you off, turning their back on your excuse, even though you had a break two hours ago, as they were busy prepping for the judges arrival.

You washed your hands with a smile that was slowly growing on your face. You opted to shake your hands dry instead of using a towel as you ran out the back door.  You didn’t want to waste any time arriving at your secret spot.

Making the two turns it took to get to your secret spot from your pizzeria, you saw Shawn sitting on the curb looking down at his phone.  Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you skipped over and plopped yourself down next to Shawn, making him jump and drop his phone.

“You’re late,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to pick his phone up, inspecting it for any damage.

You scoffed, “By like two minutes.”

He knocked his knees against yours and you smiled down at you, “Sell lots of pizza?”

You groaned and dropped your head to his shoulder.  Shawn chuckled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Can we not talk about pizza?”

“But you stole a pizza my heart,” Shawn squeezed your shoulder as you curled your body more towards him and let out another groan, “What? You don’t like my cheesy joke?”

“Shawn,” you whined.  With your head still buried in his neck, you couldn’t see him, but you knew he was smiling ear to ear at his puns.

“Alright, Alright…” there was a pause in conversation, but you felt his chest shake as he poorly tried to conceal his laughter, “You must be laugh-tose intolerant.”

You whipped your head up his shoulder, and just when you were about to tell him off for the pizza jokes you didn’t want to hear, he broke out in the most musical laugh.  His eyes were shut tight, head thrown back, as he removed his arm from your shoulder to clap his hands in front of him; too proud of his last pun.

You smiled at the sight and laughed along with him.

After the two of you settled down in your laugher, Shawn let out a sigh and looked at you with soft eyes, “I really do love you a lot.”

Your heart melted at how sincere his voice sounded and you pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I love you too.”

You were able to look into his love filled eyes for only a second before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips.  It wasn’t chaste like the kiss you planted on him, but it had been too long since you kissed him ,so you savored the feeling.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to fight the growing smile on your lips, as your knees hit each other from the sitting position you were in.  With one hand, Shawn moved your legs apart so he could scooch forward, sitting in between them, and pull you closer to him.  One hand was softly resting on your hip as his other hand caressed your jaw.

“Y/n?”

You broke away from Shawn, eyes wide in fear, as a voice you least expected to hear at your secret place with Shawn rang through the alleyway.  You stood up promptly, Shawn following your lead, as he cleared his throat.  His eyes as wide as yours, but they held an even more petrified look than yours.  

“Dad, I––I thought––The pizza––Aren’t the judges coming around now?”

Your dad slowly nodded, eyes darting between you and Shawn, “They came right after you left…” His tone was one of disbelief, before his eyes locked with Shawn’s.  He narrowed them and let out an angry breath, “But most importantly, what is…This?”

You gulped and looked back over your shoulder at Shawn who looked just as nervous as you about being caught.

With a deep breath, you braced for the worst, “This is Shawn––”

“I know who he is.”  Your dad seethed through his teeth.  Your eyes glanced down for a second to see his hands curled into fists, “What’re you doing with my daughter?  Trying to take down the competition––”

“No, Sir––”

“I’ve heard stories about you,” he took a step forward and his hand shook in rage as he pointed at Shawn.  You stepped in front of Shawn, shielding him away from your dad, “How you––You go and pick up girls and treat them––”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear anymore lies, “Dad, stop––”

“Y/n, he’s using you!” He yelled over you.

“No, he’s not––”

“Are you blind?!” He took a few more steps forward, and instead of you blocking Shawn from your dad, he stepped in front of you, protectively keeping you behind his back as your father advanced, “He’s the enemy!”

There were a few beats of silence, your dad’s jaw was still clenched as his nostrils flared with the angry breaths he was taking.

“Um, sir,” Shawn’s voice was even, but you knew him better than anyone, and heard the slight fear in his tone, “I know our families don’t get along, but your daughter is so fantastic, and I love her a lot––”

“You what?!”

With your father’s shout, you shut your eyes tight and grabbed onto the back of Shawn’s shirt, clutching the fabric in fear.

“I love her,” Shawn spoke with confidence, voice not faltering one bit, as he reached an arm behind him, taking one of your hands that were balled up with his shirt, and held onto your hand so tight you could feel his nerves.

Your dad let out a sarcastic laugh, “You don’t love her,” he sneered, “You’re too young to even know what love is.  C’mon Y/n,” he waited for you to join him.

Still clutching Shawn’s hand in yours, you stepped from behind his back and stood shoulder to shoulder with him, shaking your head at your dad, “I––I love him, dad.”

Clearly shocked that you chose to stand by Shawn instead of cross over to him, your dad let out a scoff, “You know…I always heard you sneaking out,” your eyes widened at his confession, “But I thought you were going out with your friends and doing teenage stuff,” his voice grew colder with each word, “But you were with him,” he shifted his eyes to glare at Shawn, “Weren’t you?”

Shawn gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and you nodded your head, looking straight into your father’s disappointed eyes.

“Y/n, I can’t…” Your dad brought his fingers up to rub his temple’s, trying to stop the oncoming headache you knew he was having, “Does this family mean nothing to you?”

Your mouth dropped as your eyebrows flew up, offended that your dad thought you didn’t care about your own family because of a boy.  You endured eight months of sneaking around, eight months of having to hear about how awful Shawn’s family was, eight months of having to conceal falling in love and finding happiness in a person you never thought was possible.

With an agitated sigh, you raised your voice at your father, just as loud as he yelled at Shawn moments before, “It’s just pizza!”

Your dad’s facial expression mirrored yours, mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies as his eyebrows shot up at your claim, “Just…Pizza?,” he sounded more offended at that than when he accused you of not caring about your family,  “This isn’t just––This is our life.  How we make a living.  Connect with our community––”

“If it’s all about community to you,” you shot his words back at him, “Then why do you hate the Mendes’s pizzeria?!  They’re just as part of the community as––”

“You’ve spoken out of turn enough for tonight––”

“Shawn?”

Shawn’s hand gripped yours as a second voice you never thought you’d hear in the alleyway spoke; Manny Mendes.

Manny looked a little less angry than your dad––Probably being that your dad caught you kissing Shawn––but his eyebrows were scrunched together as he looked at you, then at his son, to your dad, down at Shawn’s hand clasped to yours, and then he picked his gaze up and narrowed his eyes at you.

You shuffled closer into Shawn’s side as Manny’s stare began to make you feel uncomfortable.

“What are you doing with my son?”

“Dad––”

“Your son,” your dad cut Shawn off with a cruel laugh as he channeled his aggression at his ‘sworn enemy,’ “had his hands all over my daughter!”

Manny rolled his eyes and scoffed, “My son’s better than that,” he side glanced at you and you shrunk back, wanting to hide behind Shawn forever, “It was probably your daughter that was seducing him––I’ve heard she throws herself at anyone with two legs––”

“Hey!” Shawn’s voice boomed with anger, his hand clenching yours in anger.  You brought your other hand on top of your already intertwined fingers, soothingly rubbing his hand in hopes it would calm him down, “Do not talk about her like that.”

“She’s the enemy,” Manny pointed a finger at you.

Your dad fired back, “You’re the enemy!”

And while this was every one of your worst nightmares coming true right before your eyes, you were glad that you had Shawn by your side.  Your fathers continued to argue, face-to-face, looking like they were about to go for each other’s throats about whose fault it was with how their children got together.  But once the conversation shifted to calzones and strombolis, you looked up at Shawn and gestured to the side with your head, begging with your eyes to get out of this mess.

Shawn vigorously nodded his head as the two of you easily slipped away from the argument between your father’s.  

You walked down the alleyway hand-in-hand with Shawn, and when you turned right to walk on the main street, you automatically dropped his hand, but he picked it right back up.  You looked up at him with wide eyes, but all he gave you in a response was a soft closed lip smile and a squeeze of your hand, as the two of you walked around in broad daylight holding hands for the first time.

While the block party was still going on in full swing, it had definitely quieted down, and not a single person gave you a second look as you held hands with Shawn while walking down the main street.  It was so refreshing to finally be able to hold his hand in public, to show him off as yours, because it was tearing you apart to have to hide him away for all these months.

Shawn guided you to his pizzeria, and you stopped right in front of the wooden podium he had been stationed behind all day, which caused him to jolt backwards.  With your arms stretched, hands still attached to each other, he gave you an amused look as to why you stopped.

Your eyes widen as if it was obvious, “Your mom is outside.”

Shawn nodded, looking right back at you with the same obvious look in his eyes, a slow smile spreading on his face, “That’s kinda the point.”

“With how our dad’s reacted?” You whispered, sadness filling your voice, upset that your dad still didn’t accept Shawn even if he made you the happiest version of yourself, “I don’t think it’s a good idea––”

“Shawn?”

You dropped his hand at his mother’s voice as your arm fell limp at your side, Shawn’s arm was still outstretched.  With a playful roll of his eyes, Shawn took two steps toward you, tangled his fingers with yours, and practically dragged you over to his mom as he whispered, “It won’t be bad, promise.”

“Mom, hi,” Shawn nonchalantly greeted his mother and you saw her eyes glance down at your clasped hands.

“Who’s this?” Her voice was soft, comforting even, but you knew that she knew exactly who you were.

Shawn smiled as he looked down at you, “This is, Y/n,” he said as he looked up at his mom with a grin, “My girlfriend.”

You braced yourself for some sort of blow up, much like what had happened just moments before.  But instead of another monumental explosion, she tilted her head and looked at you with a fond smile, before looking back at her son to see how enamored he was with you.

Her shoulders dropped as she let out a sigh of relief, “Finally you have someone to keep you in line,” she laughed, “And she’s quite beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, grateful she was accepting of your relationship with her son.  You looked up at Shawn with beaming eyes to see that he was already looking down at you with the same gleeful expression.

He gave you a wink that silently said––see, not so bad––Before his whole face turned bright red and his shoulders sagged as he looked up at his mom and whined, “Mom.”

She shrugged her shoulders, the smile never leaving her face as she looked at the two of you, “Don’t ‘mom’ me, I’m just glad you found someone who makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” Shawn looked down at you and you squeezed his hand, “She makes me really happy.”

Shawn’s mom cleared her throat, which caused you and Shawn to look her way, “While I really don’t want to tear you two apart,” she said it as if she knew the pain you two went through by keeping your relationship a secret, “Block party is almost over and Shawn needs to hit the dishes.”

“You’re putting me on dish duty?”

“Stop with the pouting,” she rolled her eyes at him, “Faster you’re done, faster you can be with Y/n.”  Shawn smiled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, but before he left for the magical land of water and soap, his mom spoke up, “And I hope to see you more often, Y/n.”

You nodded your head with a smile, “I hope the same thing, Mrs. Mendes.”

“Karen,” she warmly smiled at you before she threw a balled up napkin at her son, “Dishes. Now.”

Shawn left, but not before dramatically blowing you a kiss.  You talked with Karen for a little bit longer, filling her in on the details of your relationship with Shawn because she knew that he wasn’t going to say anything.  Before you left to go back to your pizzeria across the street, she promised that she would talk some sense into her husband, because she too, didn’t understand the whole pizzeria rivalry.

You walked back to your family’s pizzeria with a dreamlike smile on your face because some things were ending up in your favor.

You stepped onto the sidewalk and saw that your mother was slowly clearing off the tables outside.  The two of you stood there, looking at each other, before she asked, “Were you over there with that Mendes boy?”

Part of you wished that you had Shawn at your side to help you through telling your mom about your secret relationship.  But then you thought about how ridiculous that was.  She was your mom, and while you were a little scared that she would react the same your dad did, Karen was very happy with your relationship, so you hoped your mom would be the same.

“Yea––Yeah,” you stumbled over your answer and shook away the nerves, “He’s kinda my…Boyfriend.”

Your mom let out a laugh, “Kinda?”

“He is,” a smile spread across your face because this was the first time you were telling someone else that Shawn was your boyfriend, and it made you giddy on the inside, “Shawn’s my boyfriend.”

Your mom nodded, going back to clearing off the table before folding the red table cloth.  Your mind went blank because you thought she didn’t approve, but then you saw the smile creeping on her face, “I always thought you two would make a cute couple.”

The giddiness you felt in your stomach exploded and a weight was lifted from your shoulders as you helped your mom clear off the other table, “He’s pretty great.”

“I need to be properly introduced to him,” she smiled brightly at you, placing the folded tablecloth down on the table.  She walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder, “I’m really happy for you.”

You could’ve cried with how happy you were that at least one of your parents approved of your relationship.  While it might take some time for your dad to come around to the idea, you were just glad your mom was supportive.

“Yeah,” you glanced behind your shoulder to the Mendes’s pizzeria, a smile on your face as you imagined Shawn rushing through cleaning the dishes, “I’m really happy too.”

Tag List: @fallinallincurls @alina--jpeg @adelaidestreets @5-seconds-of-mendes @particularnarry @now-that-i-saw-u @turtoix​ @shawnsmutal @vinylmendes @mendesficsxbombay @lights-on-mendes @illuminatepotter @shawnmendez

[angelofthequeers]

What brought you into salting for ML, and what led you away from it? You’ve written some things that were very salty in the past, and more recently written that you were ashamed of those things, and now work to combat salt and write positive things. What brought about the change? And I’m sorry if I sound accusatory, I’m genuinely curious.

No, you don’t sound accusatory at all! I’ve been trying to avoid talking about it because I’d have to name specific people but honestly? I don’t even care anymore. I’m done not calling people out just because I was afraid of them sending their groupies after me. (I wish I could put this under a read more but my laptop charger is fried and idk how to do it on mobile 😭).

So when I was new to the fandom, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what opinion I should have about things. All I knew was tha I was coming from Supernatural, where I’d started to criticise a LOT of things about it, which was my mindset coming into ML. And the biggest and most popular bloggers were the Big Four, as I took to calling them: zoe-oneesama, lenoreofraven, gale-of-the-nomads and nobodyfamousposts. There were others, like miraculouscontent and jacquesthepigeon, and these were the dominant voices in the fandom from where I was. And if they’re the dominant voices and they’re being what I see as critical, of course I’m going to assume that they’re in the right. Not to mention that I’ve always had a problem with idolising people I see as cooler than me, so that definitely didn’t help. Plus they seemed to be Enlightened, claiming x and y were racist and problematic, and I was so desperate to be unproblematic that I didn’t stop and realise that they were the ones being problematic in the first place and just projecting the blame onto others to deflect from themselves. The racism in Zoe’s Scarlet Lady comic in particular is particularly disgusting and I’ve vented about it in private more than once, but it’s okay because it’s improving the show.

(Never mind that you can be critical of something and still enjoy it. Critical doesn’t equal salty as fuck. That’s something I’ve finally learned and I’m happy loving and gushing over the show while still pointing out where it needs to improve)

I eventually ended up joining a salty Discord and that’s what actually ended up pushing me away from salt, because it was so...bad. Everyone was egging each other on and encouraging each other to be salty and toxic about the show and I was starting to resent the show, and why should I waste my energy on something I hate? Salt legitimately very nearly killed my love for not only this show but children’s media in general, which was also why I left SPN because I was done with the constant gritty darkness. I wanted to love Adrien, I wanted to love Alya, I wanted to love the show, but I was being bombarded with Perfect Princess Saltinette and Perfect Boyfriend Loocah and Kickass Queen Chloé/Kagami (whichever one the author liked) and it just...all got internalised and reinforced. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to love Adrien and Alya and the show or I’d be doing something wrong, because clearly these fans knew better than I did.

And then we come to Défenseure. At the time of writing it, I legitimately didn’t mean for it to be overly salty. I intended for it to be like ‘Little Devil’, where the characters were fucking up but they stopped and learned lessons, albeit through the salter lens of what those lessons should be. Adrien was never going to lose his ring. He was just going to get a stern talking-to and end up apologising to Ladybug (despite that itself being exaggerated bc of how salters see him). But the Discord kept going and going and egging me on and providing “support” when I got negative feedback, and I let them push me to the point of full salt. And that’s when I stepped back and realised that I hated it. I hated being here, I hated interacting with the fandom, I hated writing. So I bowed out and never looked back.

But it’s not that simple. I was invited to another Discord by someone who, I will give a smidge of credit, did help pull me out of that dark place. But I didn’t realise that GalahadWilder was predatory and just outright yuck and literally manipulating me, especially with how he used his own autism to connect with me and empathise in a way that non-autistics couldn’t. Again, I couldn’t read people and I didn’t realise that I was being played until I ended up embroiled in another fandom drama. The less said about that, the better, but anyone who’s been around for any length of time knows what Drama I’m talking about.

And somehow, that ended up being even more toxic than the salt. We were actively attacking the showrunners (doxxing and then deleting to save face aka “do damage control over an impulsive mistake”), jabbing at other fans who I won’t name, constantly screenshotting one specific person (who legitimately is disgusting and hated by most of the fandom) and laughing at how pathetic they were, even going to one side of the drama and sending anons to try and pin the blame on the other side. And granted, I didn’t actively participate in most of this, but I still sat there and watched and laughed and believed the manipulations. It wasn’t until I got sick of this drama and someone informed me of the true nature of it (because I definitely wouldn’t have gotten involved and supported who I did if I’d been told the whole truth) that I left, but even then I still had people from both sides of the internal drama in that Discord messaging me and trying desperately to get me to believe them, and it was just. Too much.

Fandom’s supposed to be fun. Fandom’s supposed to be an escape. And yet I was ending up in more drama than a reality TV show because people were playing me like a puppet and I was sick of it.

But I’m in a healthier place now in the fandom. I’ve found the balance between roasting and being outright cruel; between criticising the show and spewing salt over it. And while I do hate what I’ve written and the drama I got messed up in, I’m grateful in a way. Without my salty writing, I wouldn’t have found that I hate doing it. Without that drama, I wouldn’t have found the true natures of certain people and I wouldn’t have made the friends I have now, like ladybuginettes, emsylcatac, amimons, bugabisous and yeet-noir. We jokingly call me a babie egg because I’ve been reborn as sugar and sweetness 😌 Especially since joining APS, which has let me actually love Adrien and even other characters like Alya and shower them in the positivity that I wanted to in the first place.

So, uh...yeah. That’s how I went from being a salty bitch to wanting to be more positive and sugary. And at least now I’m disillusioned enough that I just. Don’t idolise anyone anymore 🤷🏽‍♀️

[the-hopeless-haze]

Rebel Rebel (Part 1?)

Pairing: Janis Sarkisian/reader

A/N: okay this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I have no idea if I’m gonna continue this but fuck it???? Sorry for all the people who followed me for Barba lmao (I am continuing that don’t worry) but idk I just figured I may as well post this??? I have more of this written and I know how I wanted it to end but the middle is just not working and that’s why I never posted. But I just listened to Dead Girl Walking and I was reminded how gay I am for Barrett sooooo 😂 here you go? You’re welcome?? I haven’t edited this or looked at it since March so this may be a mess but... yeah

It was eighth grade, nearing the end of the year and you were anxious, unsure of why. Would your friends still be your friends next year? High school was going to be a lot different, you could just tell.

You saw your two best friends, Regina and Janis talking to each other down the hallway, where their lockers were, so you headed down there. Regina was probably inviting Janis to the end of year pool party she’d been planning. It was going to be so great to at least be with all your friends one last time, even if high school might take them away.

As you got within earshot, though, you realized Regina was being anything but nice.

“But are you a lesbian, Janis? I can’t have a lesbian at my pool party,” you hear Regina’s high pitched voice chirp. “You understand that, right?”

“Regina... I—“

“What? So are you?”

“Why are you asking me this? Did I do something?”

“I need to know. Don’t you get it? You not wanting to answer is pretty suspicious.”

“I am a space alien and I have four butts!” Janis yelled and ran down the hallway, leaving Regina to laugh. She makes eye contact with you. “Wow, I dodged a bullet with that, huh?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Don’t you get she doesn’t fit in? I mean, she likes girls, first of all. Second of all... she doesn’t get this stuff. Don’t you want to be popular in high school? I can get you there. We’re on top here. Everyone knows us. But this is child’s play.”

“But that was mean, Regina!” you said, your tone accusatory.

She shrugs her shoulders. “Sometimes you have to be mean to get what you want. And we’re not going to get it with her.”

“But she’s our friend!”

“Was...our friend. Don’t you care that she’s a dyke?”

You sighed, defeated. You wanted to tell her, no, you didn’t care... but you knew she’d stop being friends with you too. And her talk of being popular and being on top of the world... it sounded good.

You had many regrets about this day, and if everyone has a couple turning points in their lives, this was your first.

——

Regina was right, though. She got you everything you had thought you’d always wanted, but you never felt good enough and a lot of the time, you’re miserable. You’re constantly worried about your weight, whether you got enough instagram likes on your 1000th picture with the plastics, as you’d been dubbed, and whether or not you were dating one of the hottest guys at school.

Who would’ve thought the hottest guys were so dumb? You didn’t like any of them, really, and the second they asked to get in your pants, you dropped them like flies. So you’d gotten a rep for being somewhat of a prude, which Regina would sometimes scold you for.

Regina just got meaner as time went on, and sometimes you regretted not turning on her the first day she showed her true colors, when she’d sharpied all over Janis’s locker “SPACE DYKE” and even included it in the burn book she made over the summer once yearbooks came out. Regina would flirt with boys that she thought you or Gretchen liked, just to show you she could have them. Jokes on her, you didn’t like any of them, but you had to pretend or there wouldn’t be any gossip or any of the infighting that Regina seemed to love. It was the beginning of sophomore year now, and it was beyond exhausting.

And oh, the parties that started now! You hated them, just an excuse for everyone to get shitfaced and girls to make dumb decisions that made boys so happy even though everyone was too drunk to really remember them the next day. Regina is hosting one tonight, and here you are, in your skimpy, skin tight blue dress that you had to buy with babysitting money— since there’s no way in hell your mother would buy that for you. A sophomore hosting a party was unheard of, but Regina has a huge house and her parents went on vacation for their anniversary. She’d use whatever she could to her advantage.

All she wanted was to climb that ladder, and she didn’t care who got hurt in the way.

But here you were, dancing with the hockey player you were dating now... or was it football? You didn’t even care. You vaguely remembered his name was Mike and you told him you needed to go to the bathroom. You headed to Regina’s room and locked the door, thankful you got there early enough that there was no one trying to hookup.

You got lost in your phone for a while, and you found Janis’s Instagram profile. It was private, but there was her profile picture. She was so pretty now, not the awkward girl who tried to dye her hair blonde and wear pink just to fit in. She wore dark makeup in the picture and she wasn’t looking at the camera, and it fit her so much better. Even her hair, which she had let just grow out from the blonde she’d dyed it, looked great. You nearly send a follow request and then think better of it.

You remembered having hobbies, painting at Janis’s house until your hands were covered in paint, and you remember laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Sometimes Regina was a good friend. Sometimes she was a great friend. She was there for you when your grandmother died over that first summer without Janis, and she held you while you cried... and you cried a lot. But sometimes she was mean to even you and it was exhausting. You know she cares about you, but you know she’d turn on you, too, if you gave her what she deemed enough reason to.

You can’t remember laughing like you used to in a long time. You can’t remember being passionate about anything for a while, either. The only time was in your classes, really, you loved chemistry but you had to keep it under wraps because if it got out you were too nerdy... well, that’s social suicide.

The thing about being a plastic was that you couldn’t be anything or do anything too extreme. You had to just be a shell of human being, a shell of a hot girl, just to appease everyone. The money you spent, or had your parents spend, on your bleach blonde hair and your makeup and your hot clothes and your nails and your purses and your shoes... and the hours you spent at the salon and the mall with Regina and Gretchen and Karen, it was completely exhausting. And then you weren’t allowed to have a personality outside of all of this, it was just, clothes! Makeup! Shoes! Boys! Parties! Popularity!

All things girls were supposed to care about, but really, there was no girl left in you to care anymore. You slip off your heels and lie down on the bed, remembering Regina holding you. That felt nice, her slender arms around you, her chin against your shoulder, and she smelled so good, like a hair salon and vanilla and cinnamon and... you just wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she be like that all the time?

The pillows smell like her shampoo and you inch up to place your head on them, ready to fall asleep, the bass from the speakers downstairs lulling you.

You awake twenty minutes later with your phone blowing up from Regina. “Where’d you go? Party’s not fun without you 😘” her most recent text said. Your eyes burn from the makeup you fell asleep in and you blink a few times before replying, telling her you were in her room and not feeling well.

“Bummer! I’ll be up in a few xo” she texts back.

You answer the door when she knocks, and you smile when she hugs you immediately. “(Y/n)! I’m sorry you’re sick! Did you drink something Kevin made? Because don’t.”

“No... I just... I don’t know. I’m sick of the parties,” you grumble as you pull away from the hug and sit back on the bed. She follows you, her pink dress clinging to her every curve, riding up a little as she sits down.

“Why?” She laughs. “This is what high school is about! You’ve gotta have fun. You’re only hot once.”

“But this... it’s not fun to me. It’s not fun to get wasted and have guys try and get in my pants and watch girls throw up.”

“But we can get everything we want. It’s what I always told you,” she says, rubbing your back, but her voice is hollow.

“I don’t have everything I want! I don’t even know what I want anymore, but I’m not happy. Are you? What are you getting out of this because I don’t understand.”

“Respect. Love. Fear. It’s all I ever wanted, really,” Regina says. “People either love me or hate me but they think about me. They think about you, too. Everyone who’s a sophomore knows us, and most of the upperclassmen do too. Doesn’t it feel good?”

You sigh. “I guess, sometimes, it does. But most of the time it doesn’t! I don’t like it, feeling like I have to do everything perfectly because everyone’s watching. And it’s only going to get worse because next year we’re juniors...”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not entirely happy either. I don’t like Jack.”

“Then why are you dating him?”

“Because. Free popularity and all I gotta do is be seen with him.”

“But... doesn’t he ask for more?”

She laughs. “Sure he does! But you have to be strategic with that.”

“Right..." you say, slightly sarcastically. You didn't really know what she meant.

Regina places a hand on your knee. “I know it’s been hard for you. But it’s going to be okay.”

“Do you wanna... just lie for a minute? I know you have to go back to the party—“

“No, I can stay for you,” she says, smiling softly. There was the Regina you wanted to be friends with all the time.

You both lean back on the bed, and her arms wrap around you tightly, her chin nestling on your shoulder. Here, you were happy.

“It’s all worth it, all the fighting to just get to the top to sit like this with you,” she says quietly. “We could never be made fun of for this because we can’t be touched.”

“What?”

“Don’t you get it? I... I don’t know how to say it. Just... trust me, okay?” You nod, not sure what she meant, but then she’s leaning over and turning your cheek toward her and she’s kissing you.

Regina George is kissing you.

It’s a quick peck, probably because she’s not sure how you’d react but it’s still the best kiss you’d ever had in your life. You don’t make any rational thoughts in the next few moments and you’re not sure if she kisses you again or you pull her back in, but all of a sudden she’s on top of you and kissing you harder, and slowly, the confusion sets in.

It almost feels too good to stop, but eventually your brain starts working again. “Regina... I... are you okay?” you ask as you pull away. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No. I wouldn’t get drunk at my own party, what kind of slut does that? No, (y/n)... I want you. Didn’t that feel good?”

“Yes... but... you kicked Janis out of the friend group for being a lesbian. Why would you do that if you were gay? You always said she had a crush on you. Why would that have been such a bad thing?”

Regina sighs and flops over to the other side of the bed. “I’m not gay. I mean. I don’t know. I definitely didn’t know back then but I knew Janis just didn’t fit in even if we took away all of the gay stuff. But if we talk about the gay stuff... then yeah. I was confused. Super confused. I didn’t know if I liked you or her and I knew I wasn’t supposed to like either of you. And then I saw the two of you together and you just... you had something I didn’t have, just genuine friendship, and maybe she had a crush on you. Either way I was jealous. And I had to get the two of you apart.”

“Regina... that’s awful,” you say.

“But then I tried to be nice to you! I just wanted to be friends. I mean, I didn’t think I wanted to sleep with you or anything. I just wanted to be friends. Karen and Gretchen are just stupid and I just don’t feel comfortable enough around them to be like this. To let go of the persona.”

“You haven’t been entirely nice to me, Regina. Plus you started this off by ruining my friendship with Janis.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have done that, but I was so... angry whenever she was around. I just... we could pass for straight. No one would know.”

“Regina... I can’t,” you say, biting your lip and trying not to cry.

“Do you... do you not like girls? Is that it? I’m so stupid,” she says bitterly.

“No, Regina, it’s not that, I mean... I don’t know if I do. But it’s just... I’m tired of living like this and I don’t want to have this secret to worry about. All we need is for Gretchen to find out...”

“But she wouldn’t. And even if she did, do you think she’d cross me? Cross us?” She grips your wrists. “Please.”

You start crying and you know you’re not going to be able to stop. If the circumstances were different, you’d love to date her. You think. “Regina. I don’t want to be popular anymore, and for that to happen, we can’t be friends and we... can’t do this.”

“But—“

“If you want to drop it... then... if you want to give up being popular, being fake... then... then yes. Come out. Apologize to Janis. But I’m leaving, and I’m not leaving with baggage.”

She nods. “I... I understand. It’s okay. But I need this! They’d tear me apart if I came out and I can’t be... I can’t be outcasted. I’m exhausted, too, you know? But it’s... it’s better than the alternative. I hope you don’t come to realize that.”

“Regina...”

“No, it’s fine. I really get it,” she says, smiling. “But I’m going to have to spread a rumor, something so they don’t question why you left the group.”

“I know. Just say I’m gay. It’s your trick.”

She starts crying then, sobbing, really, and your heart lurches. You lean over to hug her.

“You don’t have to be so mean.”

“Yeah. I do. Because if I’m not it’ll turn around on me. My mom... she’d never understand! I just... okay. I understand we can’t... be seen together if this is really what you want. But can you at least text me once in a while? So I know how you’re doing?”

“Of course,” you say. You hug her one last time, and she kisses your cheek. You leave the house with your head held high but your heart sinks as you realize this is the last time you’ll step foot in there.

——

Regina is meaner without you. She is hostile to Gretchen and Karen, and you can tell if they adored her at all before, that’s completely gone and they follow her out of fear that she’d make their lives a living hell.

Maybe it’s because she did go on and start the rumor you were a lesbian. Fair enough. You weren’t entirely sure about that label yet but it gave you enough freedom to maneuver this without having lame guys hit on you anymore. That may have stopped anyway since you weren’t competing with Regina for hottest in the sophomore class... but at least it stopped.

“So... looks like she did the same thing to you after all, bitch,” a female voice says as you slam your locker shut. You jump and look to your left to see Janis there... and your breath catches. She was all the more beautiful in person.

“Yeah,” you frown. “But hey... are you mad at me?”

Janis scoffs. “Kinda. But I know you weren’t to blame now. I mean, she did the same thing to you! And I hate Regina more than I could ever hate anybody. Also Damien made me talk to you.”

“Damien?” you ask. “Wait... that guy in musical theater?”

“Yes...” Janis says slowly. “How do you know?”

“He’s really good! I’ve gone and seen every play. Like, and sat in the back. But I’ve gone.”

“Wow. That surprises me. But you did used to love that sort of thing in middle school.”

“I think I made you listen to the Mamma Mia soundtrack at least 80 times.”

“Oh yes. Wait... did you know that they’re putting it on this year? It's the spring musical."

“What?”

“Yeah. Maybe you could audition now that the plastics aren’t holding you back. You have like one day to make up your mind though. I do scenery. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Where do you sit at lunch?”

——

It was an awkward reintroduction and the words are never spoken. Is Janis gay? More importantly, are you gay, or bi, or something? Does wondering if another girl is gay make you gay?

But aside from the utter confusion of possibly having a crush on your ex best friend, you’re enjoying life as an ex-plastic. You’re auditioning for the role of Donna, but even if you don’t get it you’re going to get a part since so few people actually signed up to audition. You’re drawing again, too, even if you were never as good as Janis.

Regina hasn’t texted you yet, but you’re thankful. If she did too soon you’d get pulled back from the progress you’ve made. But you’re also worried about her, and your heart lurches whenever you make eye contact with her at lunch and she looks away quickly.

But this was how life was going to be from now on, so it was time to get used to it.