#but if I hadn't built the social circle I have

[panicdeleter]

Social currency deficits leading to worse outcomes is already somewhat of a problem, though. Former fosters make up a huge percentage of homeless people, for example, lacking the safety net and power structure of the nuclear familiy. Additionally the focus on family ties as the primary social unit puts children (and the elderly, to some degree, and the disabled in general) in a much worse position than they would otherwise be, if community ties weren't so much lower on the relationship hirearchy.

If safety in your ideal society is entirely based on care by networks of affinity, and does not provide care for people who are not liked by anybody, then your society is actually even worse than the situation we are in now.

Pissing off people close to you or over-exhausting your social network or isolating yourself is often an inherent part of many mental health problems, addictions, etc. By the time people need care the most, they have often lost all their networks of affinity, and with some bad luck, any of us could find ourselves in that situation.

There has to be unconditional care available for the more unlikable of us, or there isn't really a safety net for any of us.

[wolverigrl]

Rumors

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Warnings: smut! Only 18+!, swearing, angsty, fluffy

!Disclaimer! If you'd like to skip the smut, scroll down as soon as you see "---" in the text. From there, the smut part begins and ends at the next "---"!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It's been five months. Five months since our first date, and yet somehow, it feels like both forever and no time at all.

I sit here now, in the gym, watching him lift weights like it’s nothing, and I’m struck by just how lucky I feel. From the very beginning, it was like we found our rhythm without even trying - our relationship is built on mutual respect and trust. We give each other space when needed, and t's refreshing to be with someone who values independence as much as I do.

The dates we've had so far have been perfect in their own way. Our second one was at this hidden gem of a restaurant tucked away in the city. I remember how he laughed when I spilled wine on the tablecloth, and how his hand brushed mine as we reached for the same napkin. We've done simple things too, like grabbing coffee early in the morning or working out. Once, we spent an afternoon at an old bookstore, getting lost in the aisles of dusty novels and sharing passages that made us laugh. Every moment with him feels like a memory in the making

And yet, it all changed a little last month when we were spotted. We hadn't been careful enough. A quick kiss in a park, something so innocent, but the paparazzi caught us. The next day, our picture was splashed across every tabloid and social media. That unintentional confirmation of our relationship wasn't what we had planned. Neither of us wanted the world in on our private lives.

Still, we've dodged every question thrown at us in interviews or on social media. But avoiding the questions doesn't stop the criticism.

The age gap. It's what everyone seems to latch onto. Hugh's used to it - He’s been doing this long enough to know how to handle the press, the rumors, the gossip. But me? I’m still learning how to deal with it. I try to act like it doesn't bother me. I nod along, tell everyone I'm fine, but inside, it's harder than I thought it would be. Some of the comments sting more than I care to admit. I've been in relationships before, but none of them were "public" like this. My exes were all from my private circle - well, except for Chris, but that doesn't count. That was way before either of us was well-known. This, with Hugh, is different. It's out there.

I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep us private for a while longer, to hold onto this little piece of normalcy for just us. But now it’s out, and there’s no taking it back.

Now everything is under scrutiny. People question our relationship and my motives. Of course there are fans who are supportive - sweet comments, even some who come up to me on the street and say they love us together. But then there are the others. The ones who say I’m only with him to advance my career, that I’m using him to get ahead. Ever since our last movie together, I’ve been getting bigger roles, and some people think that’s because of him. Like I can’t earn anything on my own.

I try to brush it off, but there are moments when those words hit hard. And even though Hugh has told me a thousand times to ignore it. I’m not like him. I haven’t been in the spotlight for decades. I don’t have the thick skin he’s developed over the years.

Our managers weren’t thrilled either when they found out we’d been seeing each other behind their backs. It wasn’t anger, really, more disappointment that we hadn’t trusted them enough to let them in on it. But in a way, I’m glad we didn’t. We needed this to just to be ours for a while.

Still, despite all the noise, the criticism, the rumors—there’s comfort between us. We act like a real couple. We’ve never had the talk, though, about what we are exactly. Are we officially together? I don’t even know. We’ve just kind of fallen into this routine, and honestly, love it. I love the way he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world when we’re together.

My eyes drift back to him as he lowers the weights, his muscles tensing with the effort. He's ridiculously strong, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a turn on. God, he’s attractive. And sweet. And patient. And funny. Sometimes I catch myself even fangirling. I mean, it's still Hugh fucking Jackman. How did I get so lucky?

“You good, y/n?" Hugh’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Yeah." I say, quickly covering up my awkwardness with a grin. “Just appreciating the view.”

His eyes narrow, that playful smile tugging at his lips. He walks over, sweat still glistening on his skin, and towers above me, crossing his arms. “You know, you could’ve just taken a picture.”

“Maybe I will next time,” I tease, leaning back on the bench.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Or you could just join me instead of sitting over there like a creep.”

“Please. I did twice as many reps as you did earlier,” I say, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from my brow. “I deserve a break.”

“Is that right?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning down so we’re almost face-to-face. “Pretty sure I saw you struggling with those squats.”

“I wasn’t struggling." I protest, trying to keep a straight face, but his cocky grin is making it impossible.

“You say that now, but your form—”

“My form was perfect!” I laugh, pushing his arm lightly. “Stop acting like you weren’t impressed.”

“Oh, I was impressed." he admits, his voice dropping an octave. “Just not with your workout.”

The heat between us flares up in an instant, the way it always does when he looks at me like that. There’s this pull, this magnetic energy that I haven’t felt in a while. We flirt, we tease, we push each other’s buttons, and it’s exhilarating. But there’s always this line we haven’t fully crossed yet. We get close - so close - but we always pull back.

We go back and forth like this until we wrap up our workout. Hugh's leaving for Sydney tomorrow to visit his family for a few weeks, but his kids won't be able to join him because they're going on holiday with their mom, so it'll just be him this time

I'll admit, I already miss him so much. I don't really know what to do yet. So far, we've spent pretty much every day together, but now that the interviews are slowly getting fewer and everyday life is getting quieter, it's getting boring without someone to keep me on my toes. I guess Ryan and Blake will have to take over.

After the gym, we head back to his place, still bickering about who did better with which exercises. By the time we're on the couch, it's turned into playful shoving and teasing until his lips are on mine, and everything else fades away. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the way his lips feel on mine, the way his touch sets my skin on fire.

But just as things are about to cross that line again, I pull away, leaving him breathless and staring at me in confusion.

"You’re impossible." he mutters, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

I smile sweetly, standing up and stretching. “I need a shower.”

"You’re an absolutely evil woman!" he calls after me as I walk toward the bathroom, but I don’t turn around. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.

I can't help but smile to myself as I undress and step into the shower. The hot water cascades down my skin, but my mind is elsewhere - back on the couch, replaying the way his hands felt on me, the way his breath hitched when I kissed him. It's getting harder to hold back, to not give in to the growing desire between us. We've come close before - so many times - but for some reason, we always stop right pefore things get too far. It's like we're both waiting for the perfect moment. I'm not in a rush, but God, he makes it so hard to resist.

But it’s not just physical. It’s him. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel seen. I’ve never been so comfortable with someone, and that scares me a little. I’m falling for him - hard - and I’m terrified of what that means. We’ve never even talked about what we are, and here I am, thinking about how much I want him, how much I love him.

The thought stops me in my tracks. Am I in love with him? My heart pounds in my chest, and I realize that, yes, I probably am. But I don’t know if he feels the same way. What if this is just something casual for him? What if I bring it up, and he doesn’t feel the same? He’s never pressured me, never pushed for more, and sometimes I wonder if he’s happy with how things are - just casual, just fun.

When I'm done, I slip into my pajamas - just a simple tank top and shorts - and head into the bedroom. Hugh's sitting on the edge of the bed, scroling through his phone, but he glances up when I walk in.

"Took you long enough." he says with a mischievous grin. "Were you thinking about me in there?"

I smirk, leaning against the doorway.

"Maybe?"

He laughs, setting his phone down and standing up. He walks over to me, placing one hand on my hip, the other cupping my face. His lips brush mine in a teasing kiss, his hand sliding down to give my ass a playful squeeze.

"Behave." I mutter, but my voice betrays me, sounding more breathless than I intended.

"Why? I thought you like it when I don’t." he says, that teasing grin never faltering.

Before I can respond, he pulls away and heads to the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

I sighed and lay down on the bed and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Before I can lose myself in my thoughts again, I hear the water turn off, and a minute later, Hugh steps back into the room, still dripping wet and wrapped only in his towel, which hangs dangerously low. I can't take my eyes off him. He's searching through the dresser, muttering something about forgetting his boxers, but I don't hear the words. My heart pounds in my chest, and I know - I know - this is it. I can’t hold back anymore.

Without second guessing, I get up and cross the room, moving toward him without a word. He watches me, his brow furrowing in slight confusion, but there’s something else there too.

When I reach him, I stop, just inches away, and look up at him. I don’t say anything for a long moment. I just let myself feel the weight of this moment.

---

Finally, I find my voice, though it’s softer than I expected. “I want you.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, I think I’ve surprised him. But then, something shifts in his expression, and the air between us thickens. He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek as he studies my face.

“Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and I can see the restraint in his eyes. He’s giving me an out. One last chance to change my mind. But I don’t want out. Not anymore.

“Yes." I whisper, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat. “I’m sure.”

That’s all it takes. In an instant, his lips are on mine, and the kiss is different this time - deeper. Hungrier. His hands move to my waist, pulling me against him, and I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into his touch.

Before I know it, he’s lifting me off the ground, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the roughness of the towel against my skin. His grip tightens, and I’m suddenly aware of just how much I want him - how much I’ve always wanted him.

The kiss grew more intense, more desperate, and I can feel the last remnants of our restraint crumbling. He carries me over to the bed, his towel loosening around his hips, and gently lays me down. Our breaths are ragged, our bodies pressed together in a way that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

His kisses moved to my neck while one of his hands disappeared under my top. I gasped softly and ran my hands over his strong back. He began to gently squeeze my breast as I pressed his hips against mine with my legs, clearly feeling his arousal. Breathing heavily, he rubbed his groin against me and applied more pressure to my breast.

"Please." I said softly and looked at him greedily. "Please what, love?" he broke away from my lips and straightened up a little to get a better look at my face.

I couldn't help myself and looked down to his towel, which was now hanging down so low that you could see his perfect v-line clearly, as well as the vein under his belly button.

I swallowed and also straightened up to pull my top over my head.

"Fucking hell." he muttered quietly. I lay back down with my arms over my head and looked straight at him. "Just stop holding back and fuck me already."

He didn't need to be told twice and leaned over me again. The kiss was wilder than before and I felt like his hands were everywhere. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice that he had already thrown my shorts on the floor. It was only when I felt his fingers on my clit that I realized it. I gasped out loud and dug my fingers in his hair and shoulders as he caressed my neck and circled his thumb over my clit. I was a complete wreck. Everything happened so quickly, but somehow it also didn't. I pressed my knees into Hugh's sides and pushed my pelvis towards him as he slid two fingers inside me. I moaned loudly and pushed my head back into the pillow. Suddenly I felt an electrifying sensation as he ran his tongue around my breast and sucked on it. He curled his fingers in and moved his hand faster. I moaned loudly again and pressed my nails firmly into his shoulder as a pleasurable feeling came over me in my abdomen.

Hugh's kisses moved back up to my lips until he released his heavy breath and slid his fingers out of me.

He looked at me full of lust and totally befuddled. I had never seen him like this before. But seeing him like this almost made me go crazy myself. He smiled gently at me and stroked a few strands of hair from my face. "You're so damn beautiful."

I felt my face flush and ran my hands down his torso to his dick, smiling. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes as I slowly began to stroke him.

I clenched around nothing and bit my lip as I looked at him.

He looked at me again, bent both my legs and pulled my hands away, to stroke his own member. He rubbed his pre-cum wet tip against my clit and looked deep into my eyes. It made me absolutely feral.

"Hell. Stop fucking teasing!" I growled. Without another word, he slid into me and put my legs over his shoulders. I moaned loudly and curled my toes. He was breathing heavily and you could see how much he was controlling himself.

"You're so fucking tight." He slowly began to move his hips and it drove me wild when I felt him filling me up. "Baby please don't hold back." I moaned and closed my eyes.

"Eyes on me my love." he groaned and thrusted harder. I gasped, a little startled, and looked him straight in the eyes. My hands disappeared into his hair again and his speed increased steadily. I felt everything slowly boiling up inside me and I clenched hard around his dick. That eye contact. His moans. The sounds of our bodies hitting each other and the thick air in the room. Everything began to spin around me and I could no longer maintain eye contact.

"I'm gonna cum!" I moaned as I felt him thrusting even deeper than before. Hugh now closed his own eyes, let my legs off his shoulders and pressed both my hands over my head with one hand to stimulate my clit with the other. He was panting loudly himself. "Cum for me baby. I wanna see how you cum all over me."

That gave me the rest and for a brief moment I thought I was seeing the white light. My legs were shaking like crazy and I felt an incredible pull in my abdomen. Hugh moaned with me and let go of me to support himself with his forearms next to my head instead.

Panting, he rested his head in the crook of my neck while I stroked his sweaty back. Shortly afterwards, I felt his rhythm become more and more irregular until he did a last hard thrust and moaned loudly. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his pulsing dick made my skin crawl and I pressed myself tightly against him with my legs and arms.

There was complete silence for a moment. I could only hear our panting and our heartbeats in the room.

I felt his semen leaking out of me and slowly running down my bottom.

Hugh pulled away to lay down next to me and pulled me to his side before kissing me on the forehead. I smiled at him and stroked his sweaty chest with my hand.

"We should probably have done it before the shower." Hugh said with a smirk and looked at me.

"Or in the shower." He laughed and nodded.

---

After cleaning up, we lay together, our bodies entwined under the blanket. The room is quiet, except for the sound of our breathing slowly returning to normal. Hugh is beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my skin. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, and there’s a comfort in the silence between us.

But there’s also a weight, a need to say something. To define this.

I shift slightly, turning so I can face him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. Then, softly, I ask. "Do you ever… worry? About what people say about us?”

His brow furrows slightly, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face before answering. “What people say? You mean the age thing?”

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah. And the way they watch us. The paparazzi, the rumors… It’s just hard sometimes.”

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand gently cupping the back of my head. “I know it’s hard, y/n and I’m sorry you have to deal with all that because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say quickly. “I just… sometimes I don’t know how to handle it. But I don't want to be that person who lets the outside world affect what we have." I whisper. "But sometimes it just... gets to me."

"You're not that person." he assures me, his voice firm but gentle. "You're human. And it's okay to feel that way. The important thing is that we talk about it, like we're doing now.. And you don’t have to handle it alone." he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “I’m here. We’re in this together.”

His words are soothing, but there’s still a part of me that struggles with the reality of our situation. I bite my lip, hesitating before speaking again. “Sometimes I wonder… if maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Hey." he interrupts softly, his thumb grazing my cheek. “Don’t go there. We’re good, okay? We’re more than good.”

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just don’t want it to get too complicated.”

Hugh is silent for a moment, then he asks quietly. “Would it help if we made it official?”

I blink, my heart skipping a beat. “Official?”

He gives me a small smile, his eyes soft as he looks at me. “Yeah. Maybe then they will stop harassing us with their questions." For a moment we both were silent before he started to speak again. "Like… would you want to be my girlfriend?”

My heart swells at the simplicity of his question and made me speechless. Then I slowly nod, a smile spreading across my face. “Yeah." I whisper. “I’d like that.”

He grins, pulling me closer and pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, content.

After a while, he pulls back, looking thoughtful. “You know, I’m heading to Australia tomorrow to visit family.”

I nod, already knowing. “Yeah, you mentioned that. How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks." he says, his fingers brushing over my arm absently. “But… I was thinking. What if you came with me?”

I blink in surprise. “To Sydney?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought it’d be nice… spending some more time together. Away from all this.”

I hesitate, the idea both exciting and terrifying. “I don’t know, Hugh. It feels… fast. I haven’t even met your family yet.”

He chuckles softly. “You wouldn’t have to. Not unless you wanted to. It can just be the two of us. We can do whatever you want. I just want to spend time with you."

I smile softly at his words, feeling my heart swell.

“I’ll think about it,” I say softly, leaning my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, a calming rhythm that soothes the anxiety swirling in my mind.

“Good,” he murmurs, running his fingers gently through my hair. “That’s all I ask. No pressure.”

I bite my lip, thinking it over. The idea is tempting - really tempting.

"Okay." I say, making the decision. "I'II come. But maybe I'll fly out a week later. That way I can maybe meet up with Blake and Ryan, maybe even visit Chris in Boston."

Hugh nods, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Deal. A week later, and we'll have the best time. Just you and me."

We share another soft kiss, and can't help but laugh against his lips.

After our conversation, we lay there for a little while longer, basking in the afterglow of everything we’d just shared. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for weeks felt lighter now that we’d talked about it.

Eventually, we sat up, and the idea struck me - if we were really ready to move forward, maybe it was time to let the world know about us on our own terms.

“I was thinking…” I start, glancing over at him. “We should post a photo of us."

Hugh’s eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. “You sure about that?”

I nod, feeling a sense of resolve I hadn’t felt before. “Yeah. I mean the media already knows about us and we can't hide anymore. So why not?"

A smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “Alright, I’m in. Let’s take a picture then.”

I chuckle. “But maybe we should put on some clothes first?”

Hugh laughs softly, the sound sending a warmth through me. “Yeah, I suppose we shouldn’t scandalize the internet too much.”

As I sit up, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the bedroom mirror and grimace slightly. My hair’s a mess from… well, everything, and I’m definitely not looking my best. “Ugh. I look awful.”

Hugh stands up and shakes his head with an amused smile. “You look perfect,” he says, casually reaching into his closet for a shirt. He pulls one on, his muscles stretching the fabric in a way that makes it hard for me to focus. “Come on, we’ll take a cute one.”

I roll my eyes playfully but grab one of his T-shirts from the drawer. “Fine, but if I look weird, we’re deleting it.”

“No way!” he teases, pulling me into his arms once I have the shirt on. “You could never look weird.”

I can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around me from behind. He holds the phone up in front of us, angling it to get the perfect shot. “Okay, smile!”

I glance up at him just as he snaps the picture. My smile turns into a laugh, the joy bubbling out of me before I can stop it. I look ridiculous, but when I see the photo, it’s kind of perfect. Hugh’s grinning at the camera, looking all charming and effortlessly handsome as always, while I’m gazing up at him, clearly laughing and obviously so in love.

I bite my lip, hesitating. “I don’t know… I look a little -"

“You look great." Hugh cuts in, his tone firm but soft. “Come on, y/n. This is us. It’s real.”

I glance at the picture again. He’s right. It’s not some polished, perfect photo shoot - it's just us. Happy, in love, and completely ourselves. I sigh, giving in. “Okay, fine. Let’s post it.”

He beams at me, clearly pleased, and starts typing a caption on his phone. I lean over his shoulder to read it:

>>thehughjackman: Caught laughing at all the rumors... guess they weren't all wrong🤫 #couplegoals<<

I laugh, rolling my eyes playfully "#CoupleGoals? Really?"

"You're right." he says, smirking as he backspaces. "How about.. #HughJackedY/n?"

I swat him laughing, and he finally posts it without any hashtag.

I take my smartphone and also post it with another caption:

>>y/ninstagram: Who knew Wolverine was such a softie?❤️🐺<<

And just like that, it’s out there. The world now knows officially. My heart pounds a little faster as the notifications start rolling in almost instantly. I feel a rush of nervous excitement—what will people say?

We sit there, watching as the comments flood in, one after another.

>>vancityreynolds: Took you long enough!<<

>>blakelively:This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Love you both!<<

>>ChrisEvans: Treat her right or Cap's coming for you!💪🏻<<

>>zendaya: Omg, stop! You guys are ADORABLE<<

>>officialladydeadpoolmovie: Deadpool approves of this union. Carry on.<<

I glance at Hugh as the comments keep pouring in, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and relief. There’s so much love here—so many people supporting us. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“I told you it’d be fine,” Hugh says, his voice soft. He nudges me gently with his shoulder. “And look, everyone’s happy for us.”

I smile at him, feeling lighter than I have in days. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

More comments continue to roll in, some from fans, some from friends:

>>florencepugh: I KNEW IT!!!<<

But it’s the fan comments that really make me smile:

>>lordyx3z: Omg, I knew they were together! This makes me so happy!🥹😩<<

>>serenax77: Remember when y/n literally said 'fuck me' during an interview? Manifesting at its finest😂😂😭<<

>>hugh4ewa: Hugh, blink twice if y/n's forcing you to post couple pics😂<<

>>y/nno1fan: About damn time! Y'all had me waiting like the post credits scene of a Marvel Movie!<<

>>mynameseve: I need somebody to look at me, like y/n looks at Hugh😭❤️<<

>>girlpoolxpoppins: Can somebody pls check on Ryan? ASAP<<

>>boyinyellwspndx: y/n: "fck me!" - Hugh: "Say less". Dreams come true folks<<

I can’t help but grin at the flood of positivity. Sure, I know there will be some haters - there always are - but for now, it feels like we’re surrounded by love and support, and that’s all that matters. I glance at Hugh again, my heart swelling as he scrolls through the comments, laughing at some of the more playful ones.

“This was a good idea.” I say quietly, resting my head on his shoulder.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Of course it was.” he murmurs. “Now everyone knows you’re officially mine.”

I laugh softly, my heart feeling full. “And you’re mine.”

We sit there for a while, reading through the comments and enjoying the moment. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like we’re finally free to be ourselves without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And honestly? It feels perfect.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01

Next part

[midniiights-garden]

Your Eyes... They're like Diamonds. Mizu x Fem!Reader [2]

Summary: The second part of your encounter with Mizu. Things will get heated, but by how much is the question.

Possible TWs!!: Suggestive themes, nudity, cursing

IF YOU ARE NOT 18+ PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING!!

"What?"

Mizu stared at you, completely and utterly confused. Did... Did you just ask her to stab you? Most people would be terrified to have her blade at their throat yet you seemed a little bit too eager. A bit too happy. She lowers her katana, now attempting to recover herself. She was still buck ass naked after all.

"I'm sorry... What did you just ask me?" Mizu asks again, brows drawn as she continues to try to comprehend what you just said.

"I-I, uh-!" I stutter, now realising how awkward this was. The words hadn't meant to slip out of my mouth yet it happened. However, I was terribly underequipped socially to respond. I could only stare (at her face... not anything else...) as I feel my face heat up, not able to do anything much.

"Did... why?" Mizu continues.

"I... you're just... you know... really pretty...?" I squeak, feeling my face get redder and redder with each word. Despite being in a snowy landscape I defintely did not feel it. My entire body was hot with both shame and embarassment, my eyes refusing to meet Mizu's.

On the other hand Mizu is absolutely reeling. Were you joking? You didn't seem like it. No, you were far too embarassed by your words to have been joking. But... did that mean you were attracted to women? And if you were... why did she actually feel happy about it?

Mizu did not have a great many examples of romantic nor sexual relationships. Her mother raised her alone (for obvious reasons), Master Eiji's wife was dead and then there was whatever the hell Akemi and Taigen had. So, not many good examples. And her own past marriage was... not great either. To put it lightly. Mizu had always just assumed she was solely attracted to men and yet here she was, absolutely confused as to why she felt so elated that there was a possibility you were attracted to her. Scratch that: that you were definitely attracted to her.

I had been standing there for a while now as Mizu lost herself in her thoughts, my face somehow continuing to go red. Why? Why did she have to be built so beautifully? From her lithe form to the curve of her hips and breasts it was so incredibly hard to keep your thoughts PG13.

"Uh... M-Mizu?" I manage to croak. "Do you... maybe... want to put some clothes on...?" With that Mizu's trance is broken, her eyes snapping upwards to meet mine (much to my dismay). She marches forward, pinning me against a nearby tree. Her hands are on either side of my face, her eyes glaring daggers into mine.

"Do you think this is funny?" She hisses, still not wanting to believe the things I had said.

I shake my head. "N-No! Not at all! Mizu, I'm being serious-"

She doesn't allow me to finish, her lips enclosing over mine before I could even get a word in. My breath hitches in my throat, breathing completely stopped as she kisses me. Her lips were so... so soft. Holy shit. I was in absolute heaven. Once she pulled away I swore I was going to pass out, her brilliant blue eyes staring into mine.

She huffs, her heart hammering in her chest. Mizu didn't understand why she felt like this. She didn't understand why she was so... turned on? Was she turned on? She defintely felt like she was turned on. Watching the way your face moved, the widening of your eyes, the twitch of your lips and the furrow of your brows. When had you gotten so pretty? Without thinking Mizu trails her hand towards your hip, rubbing circles over your clothed skin.

"What the fuck is this..." Mizu grumbles, moving her lips towards your neck.

"M-Mizu?" I squeak, eyes widening even further. I felt hot. So hot. Even more hot than before. If my earlier heat was caused by embarassment this bout of heat was caused by the fact that she was quite literally feeling me up now.

"Do you want this?" Mizu finally whispers.

(A/N: HAHAHAHAHA YOU THOUGHT FUCKERS. Jk im gonna continue this, i just felt like it needed some prerequisite explanation and build up as i wanted to really emphasisize the point that Mizu was confused. Plus, in my personal headcanons (and somewhat canon) she is rather hesitant to initiate or engage in physical intimacy. So, ig my own fanfic is breaking my own characterization a lil 😭😭😭)

[deltadarlingf1]

On the Reality of Dating a Famous/Wealthy Man:

I was going to post this on Twitter but decided I wanted to a do a long form post. So an explanation of this tweet, which was inspired by the screenshot just below it:

First a disclaimer: I am not at ALL saying Mick is anything like the men I'm about to talk about (I genuinely doubt it). I'm using this response to him hard-launching his relationship as an example of the mindset I see in a LOT of the young female F1 fans. If you read the gossip blogs, you've seen posts like this and worse, particularly on Charles, Pierre, Danny, and Carlos's gfs.

As I said in my tweet, if these young girls knew what it can be like behind closed doors for the WAGs of the rich and the famous, they probably wouldn't make statements like this.

I see a lot of younger fans here on social media posting their imagines and fan fics, and as someone a bit older than them, it does worry me. I know for most people it's simple fantasy and fun, but when I see things like the above I know there are some younger girls that really just don't get it.

My aim in posting this is that maybe it'll be a bit of a reality check for some of those girls. And I don't mean that in a bullying way, I mean that in a "please don't look at these smiling pretty girls with the closet full of designer, perfect body, and seemingly perfect life and feel bad about yourself" way.

Lastly, how do I know any of what I'm about to talk about? I wish I was just chatting shit, but I have lived through all of what I'm posting below as the daughter of a "man" of wealth. His money came from corporate life, not fame, but when you have as much as my "father" did/does, you rub elbows with the famous. Everything I detail below happened to me, my mother, and the wives of my "father"'s coworkers. I'm now watching history repeat itself as I've moved up the corporate ladder and find myself around millionaires and billionaires on a regular basis.

1. The "Starter Wife" Phenomenon

In wealthy circles there's the concept of a "Starter Wife". This is the woman wealthy/famous men marry because they were high school sweethearts, worked together early on, or they dated before the man had his "come up". Sometimes men marry these women and have kids for the SOLE purpose of having the "Family Man" persona. For famous men, this can be good PR. For wealthy men, this can boost their career.

A lot of these men fucking HATE their wives. By the time they have money, they want the freedom of single life back. They can now afford their "dream woman" and loathe being "stuck" with their current wife because of it. Leading to:

2. Serial Cheating

These men have all the money and resources they need to live a double life. Not to mention built-in time and an alibi: They're on the road all the time for their job, work trips, events, etc. No time unaccounted for because they're always working.

Some of those work trips to wine-and-dine clients include runs to the local strip club, escorts, and in some cases some of those escorts are of INCREDIBLY questionable age (in reality, they are victims of trafficking). Again, I wish I was talking out of my ass, I have seen this shit with my own eyes and wish to the Gods I hadn't. Then there's also:

3. Domestic Violence

This is bad enough when it's a wealthy man whose built that "Family Man" persona to protect himself, but it's even worse when they're famous. No one believes the victims, in some cases the woman is financially stuck and can't just take the kids and run when it happens.

And for some women it hard to leave the man they thought their partner was and, yes, to let the lifestyle go. Speaking of the lifestyle there's:

4. The Loneliness

This is a big one for the F1 girlies I see posting their imagines and fanfics and what not. The fairytale of "he'll make time for me because he loves me and I'd be special. I'd be different."

These men are busy as shit. That Cartier Bracelet you envy on these girls is often a "sorry I missed your birthday". The big bouquet of roses is a "sorry I had to leave our trip early." Yes, we know the joke "well at least I can cry in a Ferrari", but that shit will wear on you more than you can believe. I can't tell you growing up how hurt I was when my performances were missed, major dates were forgotten, or my proud life updates were met with "yeah, uh-huh, hold on I have to take this call."

Of course there are good times, of course there's memories you'll cling to, but when you're out, you often realize how alone you felt in the relationship. Lastly, and most poignant with this F1 WAG nonsense:

5. Keeping Up Appearances

You're no longer your own person in a relationship with these men, you are an extension of them. With famous men, you're a part of their "branding".

You have to look a certain way, act a certain way, talk to the right people, have the right friends. In the corporate-wealth world, that means making your partner look good, playing the part of the trophy wife and perfect mother. Smile in front of those coworkers that you know just spent the last business trip drinking, gambling, and cheating on their wives. Wear the right dress to the corporate dinner to make his coworkers envy him, but don't dress too sexy or he'll grow angry and think you're trying to cheat.

If you're dating someone famous, by the GODS, you better look immaculate in every post. You better be there to support him at his events, but if you're there too often you're "attention-seeking". You better have model good-looks, but if you ARE a model, you're "a jobless loser trying to profit on him". Don't post him on your IG, but if you happen to post that you're in the same city as him, you're "dropping hints". If he posts you, it's only because you "probably begged him to".

It's a maddening dance where you cannot win for losing. And once you break up, enjoy letting the world decide if he should have stayed with you, or if they're relieved that he finally got away from "that selfish bitch".

Do what you will with the above. I just wanted to get it off my chest. But I do hope that maybe, MAYBE, it'll give someone that needs it some perspective.

[shortnsweetspn]

13.

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝 || 𝐛𝐛𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖: Graphic Violence

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 668

- dividers by @anitalenia -

Lauren lays on her couch, the soft glow of a nearby lamp casting long shadows across her quiet apartment. Her legs were curled under her, she couldn't get comfortable. Her mind was restless, running in circles as the memory of the locket flashed before her. 

The warmth, the vision, or whatever it had been, still lingered in her chest like a low hum she couldn't ignore. She hadn't told John about it before she left. What could she even say?

"Hey, by the way, I touched my mom's old necklace, and it felt like it was alive? Oh, and I saw flashes of memories that weren't mine?" Totally normal.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, her laptop abandoned on the coffee table in front of her. Something was wrong with her, maybe more than she wanted to admit.

Her phone sat within arm's reach, and before she could talk herself out of it, she picked it up and scrolled to Missouri's number. It felt like admitting defeat, but if anyone might understand...

Missouri answered after just a few rings. "Lauren," Missouri said, her voice warm and familiar. "Well, this is a surprise. What's got you callin' me at this hour?"

Lauren hesitated, unsure where to begin. "Missouri, I—I've been feeling... off lately. Things are happening, and I don't know if it's all in my head or if—" She exhaled sharply, cutting herself off. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Missouri didn't interrupt, letting Lauren's words settle in the silence. Finally, she spoke, her voice gentle but firm. "There's nothin' wrong with you, honey. Sometimes what feels strange or wrong is just somethin' inside you tryin' to wake up. You're tuned into the world in a way most people ain't, and that's not somethin' to fear."

Lauren frowned, clutching the phone tighter. "Tuned in? Missouri, I'm serious. I'm seeing things, feeling things that don't make sense. It's not... normal."

Missouri's voice softened. "Normal's overrated. You've been through a lot—losing your mama, searching for answers, carrying all that weight on your own. That kind of pain can open doors you didn't even know were there."

The words sent a shiver down Lauren's spine. "So, what? You're saying I'm imagining this?" She stopped herself, unwilling to say the word out loud.

"Lauren," Missouri interrupted gently, "Sometimes the answers you're looking for aren't in your head. They're in your heart. But you have to be ready to face them, no matter what they reveal."

Her throat tightened. "What does that even mean?"

There was a pause, long enough that Lauren thought Missouri might hang up. But then she said, softly, "When the time's right, you'll understand. But for now, trust what you're feeling. Trust yourself."

The call ended shortly after, but the weight of Missouri's words lingered. Trust herself? How could she trust herself when she didn't even know who she was anymore?

Lauren turned back to her laptop, Missouri's voice echoing in her head. She needed answers. Not vague reassurances, not hints. Answers.

Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she typed in two words: Dick Prescott.

The name of her father.

She scoured the search results, her pulse quickening with each empty page. No social media profiles. No public records. No genealogy matches. It was like he'd been erased.

"What the hell..." she muttered under her breath, sitting back in her chair. Her chest tightened as she refreshed the search, but the same results stared back at her.

No one disappears this completely, she thought, her stomach twisting. Not without a reason.

Was he even who Serena said he was? Her vision blurred as frustration welled up inside her. She slammed the laptop shut and pressed her hands to her face, willing the tears to stay back.

If her father wasn't who she thought he was, then everything she'd built her life on—her identity, her history—was a lie.

She whispered, her voice trembling, "If he's not who I thought he was... then who am I?"

[cartograffiti]

The books I read for the StoryGraph's Genre Challenge 2024

For a nonfiction book about food and/or drink...I read Tasting History by Max Miller. A straightforward choice, recipes and history by a YouTuber I have enjoyed.

For a historical novel set before 1900...I read The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett. Set beginning in 1547!

For a biography or memoir about/by a musician...I read Behind the Seams by Dolly Parton with Holly George-Warren and Rebecca Seaver. A memoir all about clothes people have made for Dolly over her career, also featuring hair and wig styling and make-up artists.

For manga...I read Witch Hat Atelier Vol. 1 by Shirahama Kamome (translated by Stephen Kohler). Another easy fit!

For a thriller or crime novel in translation...I read Malice by Higashino Keigo (translated by Alexander O. Smith). From Japanese, one of the Detective Kaga novels.

For a nonfiction book about psychology...I read On Looking: Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes by Alexandra Horowitz. An inexact fit; this book is also about nature, design and social habits.

For a science fiction or dystopian book by a woman or nonbinary author...I read A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers. A robot and a monk in the far future, on an alien moon.

For a middle grade book with queer representation...I read Battle Magic by Tamora Pierce. I have a feeling I wouldn't have counted this as middle grade if I hadn't just read those of the Emelan books that aim closer to that age group. The other Circle Reforged books reinforce that trio being YA, but that wasn't part of my initial takeaway from BM, so I'll stick to it!

For a short story collection by a Black author...I read Filthy Animals by Brandon Taylor. The stories in this collection interlink, and I saw more than one take that they shouldn't therefore count as short stories, which I was happy to find is, in this case, silly. Chapters are a different creature.

For a debut literary or contemporary fiction novel...I read Dial A for Aunties by Jesse Q. Sutanto. Sutanto's first book, this is a genre-straddler, but it's most neatly in contemporary.

I liked or loved all of these! The Dunnett, Shirahama, and Chambers books have sequels I have been devouring as well, and Malice impressed me so much I look forward to trying more Higashino.

On Looking is the book I'm least likely to recommend, with a caveat--I think some of the writing, as it transcribes conversations, only worked for me because I listened to the audiobook. It did work!

The memoir prompt pushed me the most out of my usual reading habits. I was also delighted to have a push back into reading manga, which I hadn't dipped into for several years. And the prompt I had the most fun looking for an eligible book was the crime novel in translation! This was a pleasant, easy challenge, but still specific enough to be inspiring.

[elsiebarnes]

ABOUT — Elsie Barnes

name: elsie barnes

nickname: el, ellie, barnes

age: 35 years old

neighbourhood: briar ridge hill

career: event planner

time in briar ridge: most of her life, returned a week ago

IN-DEPTH — 

Ever since elsie was little, she could remember watching the stars and hoping for something bigger than the small town that she was born into. A small farmland that became her parents pride and joy but felt more like a prison to their only child.

They'd often share stories of their wilder nights out in town, all before her birth and the accident that had taken her mother's hearings and forced them to retreat from society.

For the most part, Elsie was a good kid in order not to create too much of a ripple effects on her parents who were hardworking and caring. But the end of high school brought out a sense of curiosity and a need to test the limits.

When the opportunity came for her to leave town, she jumped at the chance. It felt like it was fate as she'd just gotten a remote job as a personal assistant that provided her with the flexibility to live and be anywhere in the world.

The move to boston was much needed and breathed new life into her. She discovered a new town, a new relationship, and found more of herself there than she could have ever anticipated.

A few years came and went and her relationship came to an abrupt end with her ex-boyfriend returning home while she stayed in boston for the next few years.

It was time for her to discover what she wanted to do without having to put anyone else before herself. She explored herself in ways she hadn't felt like she was ever able to in briar ridge, even following a new career that opened doors she could have never imagined.

The life she built in boston felt like everything she'd dreamt of. Her work providing her with a larger circle or people and a reputable name for herself around popular circles but it all came crashing down with the news of her mothers diagnosis. The following week, she ended her lease and rushed home to help her parents cope with the news and land they adored so much.

It has now been a week of living back on the small patch of land she so desperately wanted to leave, and the feeling of being stuck has been heavier than ever before. But not as heavy as the guilt of the time she may have lost with her mother.

CONNECTIONS — 

CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND: Elsie didn't do a lot of socialization outside of school and school activities so this would have either been a friend from class, school or the neighbourhood that she clung too given that she was an only child.

OLD FRIENDS: i kind of want them to have a falling out and they can run into each other, maybe realize how much they've missed each other since they're now in the same town.

RIVALS: Elsie is coming to town in the hope of making some kind of living, she's not normally the competitive type but maybe people see her as that and she isn't sure how to react. Potentially a one sided rivalry.

EXES: she dated people while she was in high school and was very much a people person so she would have probably had a few relationships during school and when she was in boston, after she broke up with her bf.

HOOK UPS / TINDER DATE: a lot of potential here because she is the type to date around and put herself out there, but this would have mainly been before she left for boston so a lot of time in between. Maybe they thought she ghosted them.

WORK / EMPLOYEES: eventually, she might want to get an assistant or work for a company so this could be someone that she works with or a vendor/photographer she works with a lot.

MORE TO COME AS WE PLOT

[haggishlyhagging]

We have to face the fact that pieces have been cut out of us to make us fit into this society. We have to try to imagine what we could have been if we hadn't been taught from birth that we are stupid, unable to analyze anything, "intuitive," passive, physically weak, hysterical, overemotional, dependent by nature, incapable of defending ourselves against any attack, fit only to be the housekeeper, sex object, and emotional service center for some man, or men, and children. And that only if we're lucky—otherwise we must act out a commercial mockery of even these roles as someone's secretary!

We didn't get this way by heredity or by accident. We have been molded into these deformed postures, pushed into these service jobs, made to apologize for existing, taught to be unable to do anything requiring any strength at all, like opening doors or bottles. We have been told to be stupid, to be silly. We have had our mental and emotional feet bound for thousands of years. And the fact that some of the pieces that have been cut out of us are ones we can never replace or reconstruct—an ego, self-confidence, an ability to make choices—is the most difficult of all to deal with.

All of the women I know who have done things, jumped hurdles, and stepped even a pace outside of the charmed circle of the bourgeois family, have had to face the damage that has been done to them, and struggle with the rules they have internalized. To some of us, this process has taken the form of a "nervous breakdown"; for others, a long period of sheer personal horror; to others, a more drawn-out process of repeatedly sinking under despair, and rising again. I think that for some of my generation, caught in the kind of double binds we have all been caught in, it is impossible to achieve revolutionary consciousness without some sort of confrontation with the self. Politically, this is both a weakness and a strength. It is an asset to come to political understanding through personal pain: it makes possible a gut understanding of how society works as a system dependent on the personal suffering and deprivation of each of us. Such understanding is a help in building a revolutionary movement. Only by realizing what we might have been, can we imagine how different women in a post-revolutionary society might be able to be. But knowing that we cannot achieve this ourselves, that no matter how we struggle we are still in some part of ourselves "damaged goods" (to use the appropriate capitalist terminology), that we can see what has gone wrong within ourselves, and still be unable to put it permanently right—this is very painful and discouraging. But it is necessary: it is this realization that makes it evident that there really are no individual solutions to woman's oppression, no way that one can float free of our society and its conditioning. The pain of it is what makes us search so urgently for new forms of social organization that can help us, and others, change and transcend our limitations. This pain is what makes us realize, in our everyday lives, that social change is absolutely necessary. As Lucy Stone put it almost a century ago:

“In education, in marriage, in everything, disappointment is the lot of women. It shall be the business of my life to deepen this disappointment in every woman's heart until she bows down to it no longer.”

The things that mess us up are so built into the structure of society that only the most radical of social changes—one far more radical in its attack on the basic institutions of this society that traps us, and far more drastic in the changes it effects on human consciousness, than previous revolutions—has a chance of doing the job, of freeing us and freeing those who will be born out of our lives.

-Meredith Tax, ‘Woman and Her Mind: The Story of Everyday Life’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

[localwebslingers]

@redhead-reporter asked: "i'm afraid you'll break my heart" (mcu pete)

------

That made him stop, completely. It wasn't something he expected to hear from her. Ever. For a lot of different reasons, the first being the most obvious of them. They weren't dating.

Peter had seen Mary Jane's boyfriends come to pick her up, they weren't anything like him. They were in different social circles, had different skills. He built computers and got excited for lego sets or the newest article about a technical advancement that came out. A lot of them were stars on the sports team at school, they were confident and could actually show up to games she was cheering for. They were probably who she was cheering for, actually.

And that was okay, Peter was okay with not being like them because he liked where he was. It just wasn't where the kinds of guys she liked to be with were. The two of them? They were friends. Really good friends, great even. He hadn't doubted for a second that she liked hanging out with him, either just walking to school or doing their homework. The times up on the roof of their building just talking about anything or on the swings at the palyground they outgrew years ago. He like it, he liked every single one of those little moments.

"...you really think I would?" he asked her then, suddenly faultering and not sure. Maybe it was because he kept having to skip out on hanging out as much with Spider-Man taking up so much time. Maybe it was that he stopped promising her things, after the first few times he ended up falling through on them because something happened that he couldn't ignore. Or maybe it was something Peter never even realized he'd done in the first place. Something so bad that MJ thought that he would do something to hurt her like that.

Some time ago, Mary Jane had told Spider-Man, high up where no one else would see or hear them, that he should try and ask this girl he talked about so much out. The one he cared about, the one he liked. How could he do that now?

"...I don't want to make you feel like that though."

[mspigman]

Valle Lozano - Perfume

Hey guys! Long time no update! Sorry bout that, I hadn't expected to take so much time off, but I had finished a semester of school, the holidays came around, and honestly I needed a writing break because i had been writing virtually every day for a year! But it feels good to be back with another segment of Lozano. It's a bit of a long one at around 2k words. Hope yall enjoy and happy new year!

Yolanda Barrios had lived her whole life docily. She was born the only daughter to Alfred and Hildagarde Barrios, another family of key founders of Valle Lozano. She had grown up having never really witnessed a loving marriage. Her mother and father spoke to each other more like colleagues than like husband and wife. It was a marriage of convenience, to elevate social status and increase the family wealth. She knew that that was what was expected of her. And she fulfilled that obligation dutifully. She married Martin Octavio the year she turned eighteen, and it seemed to her that she was simply fulfilling the role she was born to do.

There was no real romance between her and her betrothed. They had known each other their entire lives, knew the same people, ran in the same circle, and as they got older it was apparent that they would unite in matrimony, as per the wishes of both families. The fathers wanted to unite their positions in town, and what better way to do it than through their children? 

The engagement was a brief one, just long enough to get the word around and for the fathers to shake hands and agree to the terms of the marriage. It felt to Yolanda as if her life was nothing but another business deal. Her father would gain a bit of land, the Octavio’s would gain a hefty dowry, and the newlyweds would live in a splendid manor. All were satisfied.

Yolanda, however, was not. She did not want a grand home. She despised large mansions with cold and empty rooms. To her surprise, her new husband felt the same. Land, he told her, was more important than space. So they built a tiny comfortable home on a large property and she learned to garden. This kept her occupied for a time, but she was still not satisfied. She wondered what it would be like to be in love. She thought, in the early days, that she might learn to love her husband. She recognized that he was a handsome man; he had a medium build, straight dark hair, and a commanding personality, and she felt that perhaps he could love her. She knew that she was known to be a town beauty, with a plump but slender figure, light eyes, and soft lips. At the beginning of their marriage, she made small attempts to court her husband. She would timidly bring him a vase of the flowers she gardened into his office whenever he was in it and place it on his desk, hoping they would bring her the joy that they brought her. She would spray perfume in her hair to try and rouse him, but it was all in vain. She would find the vases she would put in his office somewhere else around the house, usually the kitchen or parlor, and he never so much as affirmed if he liked or disliked the scent she wore. She wondered if he even noticed it. 

She gave up when one afternoon, bored and aggravated at his lack of reciprocation, she snuck into his office while he was out on business. She wanted to see if she could find some way of turning his head, some way of finding what caught his eye. She considered perhaps he liked a certain kind of woman, and she was determined that she would become it. 

Her determination evaporated when she found the key to his desk drawer and found the letters tucked inside. Everything made sense when she perused the contents. He was in love with another woman. Gemma Solaris was the daughter of a shopkeeper, a shop which the Octavio’s had money invested in and visited frequently. Their letters went back years, even from before their marriage or engagement. As she flipped through the letters, she could not help but notice a distinct smell. Perfume. Much different from the kind Yolanda herself wore. 

The smell was daring and bold, of alluring spices and florals. It was a major contrast to the light, fresh scent she preferred. Yolanda imagined Gemma’s perfume was a reflection of her personality, in which case they were complete opposites, and she would never be able to win over her husband. If she was right, Gemma was fierce, striking, and confident. Yolanda was none of that. She was timid, soft, and docile. She would never be the type of woman Gemma was, and she made up her mind then and there that she could not and would not compete with such a woman. She had made a fool of herself for Martin long enough. She would not risk pushing him forever into the arms of his mistress by her feeble attempts. So, with a decided motion, she put the letters back in their place and pretended to forget all about them. From that moment on she and Martin lived a tranquil, complacent life. They were on civil terms, and as long as he fulfilled his role of husband she ignored the letters that arrived that always brought the smell of cinnamon and jasmine lingering throughout the house. 

When their daughter was born, she felt a relief wash over her. She finally had something to pour her energy into. She would raise their child, and devote herself to bringing it up, and in that way, she could heal the lonely fractures of her heart that had formed when she learned of her husband’s infidelity but had never dared to examine closely beforehand. Now, with a new baby, it was like being given a precious gift. A living, breathing, creature, almost doll-like, that she could spoil, pamper, love, that would be the companion her soul longed for. 

For years, everything went according to plan. Ines and her mother were as close as Yolanda could have expected. Ines lived a solitary life, and Yolanda was gratified that she seemed to want no closer friend than her mother. They did nearly everything together; they would rise and have all their meals together, read, and take walks. Yolanda passed down her love of gardening and flowers to her daughter, and they seemed to agree on all their opinions and tastes. Yolanda was secure in her position in her daughter's life and felt that no one could ever disrupt their bond. That was until Ines fell in love. 

The utter shock and the crushing blow of betrayal were impalpable to Yolanda once her daughter's torrid relationship was discovered.  She had never once suspected that Ines harbored feelings for anyone, but to know that she had this illicit affair with someone so far beneath her behind her own back was something she could not bear. To Yolanda, it was an even greater deceit than finding her husband’s mistress. Ines was her daughter, she had committed her life to her, and in return, Ines had hidden and omitted her deepest truths. It was something Yolanda could not forgive.

The relationship enraged both of her parents and when Martin resolved to send their daughter away that very night, Yolanda did not protest. Ines pleaded with her to let her stay but Yolanda only gave her an icy stare. Ines understood. Her mother would not help her. She only glared at her mother, but without a word, quietly and bravely gathered her things and left the home forever.

It was only years later that Yolanda regretted her passivity. She had looked in the mirror one morning and stared for a while at her face. It was familiar, the way it had looked the night before. She was accustomed to the changes that had transpired over the years. She had a few more wrinkles along her eyes, the skin was not as firm, and her hair had some white in the long strands. But she did not mind any of it. She was still an attractive woman in excellent health. However, as she continued looking at her reflection, she no longer saw her face, but her daughter's. Ines’ young, beautiful, glowing face, just as fresh as she looked on the day she left home, jumped out and startled her. She had to glance over both shoulders to verify if she was alone. But she was. She turned back to the mirror, and upon seeing it was only herself in the mirror, began to sob. 

She had never before given up her ire against her daughter through these years, not even when she and her husband received letters from her trying to reconcile. As far as they were concerned, she deserved to be shunned. It was when the letters suddenly stopped that they believed something was amiss. But even that vague feeling of misfortune was not enough for either of them to relent. They considered it to be her pride, her unmerited pride. They felt it was her duty as their daughter to beg for their forgiveness. She was the one who had deceived them. Had hid from them. However, when Yolanda saw her daughter’s face in the looking glass, she felt in the bottom of her soul that it was a bad omen. 

She convinced Martin to locate their daughter but to no avail. They tried contacting the school where they had left her, but it had been years since she had resided there. They had no information on where she went to or where she could be. What transpired after was months of intense investigation. Martin, overcome with guilt over his missing daughter, put nearly every cent into trying to locate her. It was all for naught. After a few months of searching they discovered that their only child had died. She had died the morning Yolanda imagined to have seen her looking back at her in the mirror.

To say that the Octavios were devastated would not give justice to their ruin. Racked with recrimination for each other, their once cordial, civil relationship wilted away. Martin blamed his wife for not raising his daughter properly, if she had Ines would have never fallen in love with a common farmer’s son. In turn, Yolanda blamed his callousness. What right had he to said her only companion away? Neither of them would yield to the other, and locked in that tiny house, they felt that they were each other’s punishment for their sins.

This went on for the rest of their lives. Martin passed first and when he did Yolanda refused to vacate the house. After the funeral she sat alone in their room, wondering how much longer she would have to suffer in her solitude. A few months later, the night before she died, she went to his office, lurking inside the old mahogany desk she did not bring herself to get rid of. Curious, she found the key to the drawer and perused the contents. She found the cruel, mocking, spiteful letters jeering at her. The letters were made all the more humiliating and callous when, as she read the letters, discovered that they were as recent as a few days prior to Martin’s death. Yolanda read them, and the familiar scent of jasmine and cinnamon stung her eyes. She wondered why her husband had even married her. What had he wanted of her? What had she wanted of him?

She thought of Ines then. At least she had been brave. She had chosen love. It was more than her mother and father could say. She thrust the letters back in the drawer, hating Martin as she never had before. She hated herself too, because she realized her fatal mistake. Her biggest mistake was staying in this wretched house all this time. She realized she should have left the moment she smelled the jasmine and cinnamon emitting off the cream paper. She laid in bed that night knowing she would not live to see the morning. She also knew that her punishment, for being so cowardly, so unwise, and so weak was to live forever in that house. It was all she knew. It had been her world, her sanctuary, and for her crimes it would be her prision even after death.

[midwesternorcprincess]

my grandparents lived in a rather grand (by my-hometown standards) old house built in like 1900 or so, and since the last of my grandparents has died now, my family went to clean the place out this weekend before it gets sold. my parents came and got me even, and i never go back to my hometown, but i grew up largely in this house and it was important enough to me that i wanted to see it one more time and like, make my peace with that

and also, incidentally, my gf lives in a neighboring town. just a wild coincidence, we met here in the town where i go to school, so it's kinda wild we both grew up in the same area. no one in my current social circle here is even from Indiana, much less the part I'm from. so i got to see her, and, thank god, stay with her this weekend and not in this now-dilapidated icebox of a house (doesn't have heat or water anymore since it hasn't been lived in for a decade) and all stuck with my family

so i went right to her place when i got there Friday night, and on Saturday she had to drive me back to my hometown so I could go through the house. and she was just gonna drop me there and come back for me later, but my parents invited her to stay and look around with us, so she did. my mom was pretty excited to give the grand tour, so the three of us went all through the house together. my mom told everything she knew, and i kinda reminisced about all these places, and i feel like having gf there kinda took the edge off what might have been a too emotional experience and made it fun

and idk, it just felt really special to have gf there for that. my family was pleasant (even the Relatives who unexpectedly showed up), and like, this was a huge part of my past that's over now, and once the house is sold it'll just be gone. it'll just be like, a ghost living on in me, and so i'm glad gf got to see some of it. idk it feels important to me. and also, that i'm the very last of the many grandchildren to, you know, pair off with anybody. it's like, idk, i know my grandparents would have been happy to see it, and to know that that was my partner's introduction, more or less, to the family. i guess i get sentimental about this stuff. And also most other stuff

but man. i am gonna miss that place. that house was so special, no way in hell any of us could afford to have it in this day and age, though. you know the scene in Anastasia where she finds the dilapidated former palace and it awakes her latent memories of when the place was in its heyday? that's what this was like, stuff just flooding back to me that I hadn't thought about in years. idk man i am gonna be melancholy for a while

[heartsoulspiritelite]

Nick Jackson x Kenny Omega

Summary-

Nick Jackson finds himself torn apart as he navigates his feelings for Kenny Omega. Unable to express himself, he wrestles with loneliness until Kenny's senses catch onto the unspoken emotions circling between them.

~

I love you!

Nick Jackson sat in the corner of his hotel room, staring at his phone as he mindlessly scrolled through various social media platforms. His heart felt heavy, and the loneliness threatened to consume him. Every laugh and touch between Hangman Adam Page and Matt Jackson served as a constant reminder that he hadn't yet found someone to share his affections with.

Kenny Omega had always been his closest friend, and partner besides his older brother. They had formed an incredible bond during their journey together as The Elite, and Nick cherished their friendship more than anything else. But lately, Nick had started to develop feelings for Kenny, and it scared him.

He felt a lump in his throat as he contemplated revealing his emotions to Kenny. But the worry of losing his friendship held him back. What if Kenny didn't feel the same way? It was a risk Nick wasn't willing to take, fearing that such a confession could potentially ruin everything they had built together.

The longer Nick kept it in, the more his emotions intensified. He watched as Kenny's eyes sparkled every time he interacted with Hangman, Matt,Kota and just his other close colleagues and jealousy gnawed at him from the inside. Nick found himself hiding his emotions behind laughter and smiles, fearfully locking away his affection for the sake of preserving their friendship.

One evening, as The Elite gathered backstage, Nick noticed Kenny studying him with a curious gaze. It was as if Kenny had caught on to Nick's loneliness, Studying the carefully concealed emotions haunting his fellow Bullet Club member.

Later that night, as they both sat on the rooftop after an event, Kenny broke the silence. "You've seemed distant lately, Nick. Is something bothering you?"

Nick's heart stopped for a moment, his emotions threatening to burst through the wall he had built around them. But instead of revealing his deepest secret, He chose to lie.

"Im fine, Kenny," Nick sighed

"No you are not Nick, You don't have to lie, its just me" He said trying to comfort the younger buck.

"Thats the problem. You're you Kenny, i can't tell you alright so just drop it" He says irritated

Kennys face twisted with hurt and confusion

"Nick what the hell" Kenny asked confused, his voice laced with disappointment

"Im sorry" He whispered

"Are you Nick, Are you?, i don't think you are"

With that Kenny stood up and turned around and was about to walk away when

"Kenny i love you!" Nick shouted panicking

Kenny froze.

Nicks heart started beating faster and faster while he waited for Kenny to reply

"What?" was all Kenny could muster up as he turned back around

"Kenny im so-"

"ALL THIS TIME?" He shouted

"huh" Nick said confused not knowing if he meant that in a bad or good way

"ALL THIS TIME YOU"VE FELT THE SAME? I WAS SUFFERING FOR NOTHING?!"

"You-You feel the same way?"

"of course i do you idiot"

They both smiled like geeks and hugged the life out of each other. Now that the cat was out of the box they could both move on without having this on their shoulders all the time.

kenny pulled pack from the hug and gently put his lips on Nicks.

Right as they started kissing the other two members of the elite decided to interrupt.

"Hey there you guys-woah" Matt said in shock once he and hangman got on the roof

both stared in shock until they shouted

"FINALLY! YES!"

~

~Cross-posted on wattpad & ao3 ~

[echovilled]

— like a moth to a flame.

→ pairing: war x chaerin kim.

→ word count: 2,185

→ song: i listened to so many songs writing this but the most frequent one that got a lot of spins was definitely the boy is mine - ariana grande lol.

→ notes: stop letting me self indulge in 1-2 year old wips, im so serious rn !

Chaerin woke up with the expected feelings for her 18th birthday: a sense of excitement that felt both genuine and hollow. She loved birthdays and the idea of being celebrated, but the routine had become so predictable that she knew exactly how the day would transpire. She lay in bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of something different to creep in, but nothing came. She blew out some air as she rolled her eyes and turned to the outstretched window that gave her the perfect view of the sun rising over Mount Namsan.

As it always did, the day would begin with a birthday message from her parents on Skype. It had become a tradition since they hadn't been home for the celebration for the last 7-8 years.

The routine was set in stone - she'd get up, have her birthday breakfast cooked by the penthouse staff, and then be presented with the exact cake every year: a chocolate buttercream golden cake with sprinkles. Later, a private birthday dinner would be held at Pierre Gagnaire à Séoul with a carefully curated group of friends to post their equally curated group photos on Instagram. It was the same predictable pattern every year with the necessary changes to fit her social media circle, followed by 364 routinely identical days until June 1st rolled around again.  

Chaerin groaned loudly, already feeling the weight of the day's familiarity ahead of her. Mentally, she felt as if she was placed behind a well-constructed fence designed to protect her but also shield her from the rest of the world. The security her parents had built around her began to feel suffocating, even if she understood its reasons. She was their rainbow baby- their only child after so much loss- and the weight of keeping her safe regardless of any situation lingered between them.

Their love for her was never in doubt, but that love had formed an environment where control and sheltering had become second nature. Their high-profile careers worsened things—her mother, a corporate executive of the successful skincare brand Misun Cosmetics, and her father, a private investor, were always away. They were busy managing their professional empires while ensuring she stayed safely inside the fortress they built for her.

She heard the familiar notification ding from her laptop as she finally got up and went to her desk. The Skype link shared by her father is ready to be clicked. She hesitated momentarily, her finger hovering over the mouse before clicking the link.

Chaerin sat at the kitchen table, eating her breakfast for the day. The chef had prepared a Moroccan-themed breakfast with a side of Miyeok-guk, which was something different that at least pleased her just a little bit.

She sat at the table and pondered what she could do for her birthday. The usual choices were shopping, which never failed to make her happy, sightseeing, crawling back into bed and streaming Netflix, or even catching a flight to Tokyo, which was only two hours away. But none of these options felt right, and she was getting frustrated.  

It only took minutes before she abruptly leaped from her seat and ran back to her room. Her heart pounded with the rush of excitement as the idea struck her. Today wasn't just any birthday - it was her eighteenth! She could finally act on something she had been toying with for weeks.  

To satisfy her need for something different, she's been third-wheeling it with one of her best friends, Nari, and her boyfriend, Junho, who was just weird and greasy, and his friends, who had been racing motorcycles in the shadowy streets of Gangseo District. She would say she was studying with Nari to get any deployed security off her back. Plus, she was getting older, so her parents did ease their eye off her for a bit (and a bit is being generous). It was their favorite pastime, and sometimes, she'd ride on the back of the bikes of some of Junho's friends, but that was it. It was fun for a while, but that's not what captured her interest. It was something - or someone - else entirely.  

Outside Nocturne, a club notorious for drawing in some of the city's most dangerous crowds, Chaerin had first seen him. Or rather, she had noticed his friend first. A hulking figure who was broad and intimidating, with a scar etched like lightning down the side of his face. His presence was enough to stop anyone in their tracks, and to be honest, she would both embrace and run from this man if she were alone with him in a dark alleyway.

But it wasn't until he shifted aside that Chaerin saw the person who caught her breath.  

The stranger who followed was tall and lean; his body cut with strength but moved with a quiet, deliberate grace. He wasn't cut from the same cloth as the boys she was used to hanging out with; he was something else entirely. He wore dark clothes - a black jacket, dark cargo pants, and heavy boots - that made him blend into the shadows. His sharp gaze gave him an aura of danger, which seemed to draw attention without him needing to say much of anything. Even though he couldn't have been older than Chaerin, he carried an air of experience that he had seen more of the world than she did.

She had watched him hanging around Nocturne for nearly a week, always at a distance. It was an unspoken game of cat and mouse, and she was sure he didn't notice her, but she made sure to see him. Whenever she was in the Gangseo District with Nari, she would always find him as if pulled by an invisible force.

But now, on her eighteenth birthday, she decided it was time to make her move. She wasn't someone to linger in the background anyway; she had to see who this man really was. Tonight, she would step into the shadows, hoping that this time, she would meet him and have the stranger for herself.

Chaerin didn't hesitate. She grabbed her phone from her nightstand and immediately called Nari. The phone barely rang before Nari picked up.  

"Rinnie! Happy Birthd-"  

"Nari, I've got an idea for tonight," Chaerin said, cutting her off as her voice buzzed excitedly. "After dinner, why don't you and your weird ass boyfriend come with me to Nocturne? We can have a little after-party celebration!"  

Nari paused for a moment, which caught Chaerin off guard. "First of all, he's not weird! And also Nocturne? I've never been there before, but I heard like a shootout happened a couple weeks ago..." she admitted, the slightest hint of hesitation creeping into her voice.  

Chaerin ignored this and laughed lightly at her friend's uncertainty. "If a shootout does happen, we'll just run for the back door, okay?"  

"Chaerin-"  

"Nari, come on. It's my 18th birthday, and we need to do something big! It's going to be super wild, and we'll be together, okay? Plus, Junho will be there, so it will be perfect." She said, and after a moment, Nari sighed, "Okay, you've convinced me. I'll talk to him, but count us in."  

Chaerin squeals, already anticipating the stranger and the night ahead. With the plan sealed, the night promises something unforgettable—what could go wrong?  

Later that night, Nari, Junho, and Chaerin arrive at Nocturne. At the entrance, the burly bodyguard scanned their IDs with a skeptical look, his eyes narrowing as he noticed they were all under 19. The legal age was previously changed about a year ago because a 16-year-old boy was murdered two blocks away from the club. The rule was set, and it looked like the bouncer wasn't going to bend for shit.  

Before Chaerin could protest, Junho stepped forward with a sly smile, pulling out his wallet and slipping a few bills into the guard's hand, which she rolled her eyes. "It's her birthday," he said, nodding toward Chaerin, who stood behind him.  

The bodyguard paused before pocketing the cash with a barely noticeable nod, and they were waved inside.  

Junho flashed a cheesy grin at Chaerin. "I'll have the bill on your door by tomorrow," he said as she flipped him the middle finger while Nari chuckled.  

As soon as they stepped inside, the music's thumping bass hit them like a wave. The flashing lights danced across the walls, turning everything into a blur of neon and moving shadows. The air was thick with excitement and the heavy scent of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.  

Chaerin, without hesitation, pulled Nari to the center of the dance floor, with Junho following them. The crowd was already swaying in sync with the loud music. While Nari and Junho started dancing together, Chaerin found a dance partner on her own. A tall guy with a confident smile caught her eye and stepped closer, his intentions extremely clear. She always welcomed the attention, and her movement began to match his. The guy leaned in, his voice barely audible over the noise. "You look real sexy out there." he flirted, flashing a playful grin.  

Chaerin smirked, her energy rising. "I know!" she shot back, laughing with a teasing edge.

The banter continued as they moved together, the flirtation adding to the thrill of the night. For a while, she completely forgot about the world outside of this. Every laugh, touch, and beat added to the rush she felt.  

But after a while, her movement began to slow. Something in the atmosphere had shifted, and it was changing the exhilaration that she had felt moments ago. She began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  

Someone was watching her.  

She could feel it—a presence, eyes locked on her from somewhere in the crowded room. The once liberating feeling suddenly felt heavy, and her body tensed as she scanned the room, searching for the source. Her dance partner quickly noticed the shift in her mood, and his confusion was evident. It wasn't until she looked up and saw him that she realized it was him.  

Her eyes locked onto the mysterious stranger, standing by the railing in the VIP section, staring directly at her. His gaze was intense, penetrating, and unrelenting.

She had stopped dancing altogether, stumbling slightly from the shock and surprise. The realization had it her like some crushing wave. Did he notice her watching him this entire time? This whole fucking time?

As Chaerin stood frozen, trying to process the situation, she noticed another woman approach the stranger. The woman touched his chest, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Chaerin stiffened, an unexpected jealously tightening in her chest for someone she didn't know. But the feeling would quickly shift when the stranger dismissed the woman with a wave, sending her back to the VIP section without a second thought.  

His gaze briefly returned to Chaerin before disappearing back into the shadows, leaving her standing there with her heart racing and her mind spinning.

She didn't even know what to make of it. He physically said absolutely nothing but said so much with one look. Was he sending her a message that he knows that she's been practically stalking him? Was he daring her to come meet him? Did he care whether she picked option A or B? It felt like a game of chess, a game that she had never bothered to play, yet she was maneuvering through it without a single clue.  

Suddenly, she became aware that her dance partner had left her alone. A quick glance revealed that Nari and Junho had found their way to a dimly lit table, making themselves incredibly cozy in each other's company.  

Chaerin's gaze shifted back toward the VIP section, her eyes darting to the elegant curve of the staircase leading up to it. The familiar flame that she felt in her belly the night she saw him for the first time was spreading fast, and it pushed her to quickly make her way to the staircase before she could second-guess herself.  

Just as she approached the VIP section, the man she had noticed before - the one with the lightning strike scar across his face - stepped in front of her and blocked her path. She was beginning to become tired of all of these fucking rules and regulations. She felt like this was more like a prison than a club. Why is nobody letting her do what she wants?  

Before she could start complaining, a voice cut through the club's noise.  

"Let her through."  

The bouncer glanced back at the source of the command, gave a nonchalant shrug, and stepped aside. Chaerin's heart raced as she barely shoved the bouncer out of the way and made her way through the velvet rope. Without hesitation, she even edged between the stranger and the girl from earlier casually seated next to him.  

She would have no idea this bold, instinctual, and unplanned move would change her life forever.

[julianxreese]

Let It Out // self para

It was such a struggle fumbling with the keys to his apartment, that Julian's grip of Dodger's leash around his hand tightened as the dog yanked and pulled like a fire had been lit under his tail. Not quite unusual, the two year old puppy always lacked a calm switch, bouncing around the apartment with untamable energy. Honestly, they were both growing stir crazy lately. The recent earthquake sent their city reeling and construction to repair the streets near his complex mostly locked himself and Dodger stuck inside with nowhere to go. Adding to that, Julian didn't trust his mind when left alone nor can he trust his choices. He wasn't an impulsive person, he has never been impulsive, but people change.

"Alright, alright, big guy. Relax." His attempts to coax the dog proved futile as he closed the door and dropped to his knees, giving Dodger a few head scratches before unclasping the leash and watching the Labrador retriever immediately bolt in the direction of the kitchen. Julian rose to a standing position with an exasperated sigh and placed the leash on the hook hung by the front door for convenience. He waited a moment, and then another, and then another, the anticipation of Dodger's barks for his dinner or even the sloppy laps from his water bowl to reach his ears catching Julian by surprise when neither happened. He's probably sitting in there and waiting, the thought occurred. "Dodge?" He moved toward the kitchen curiously when the sound of glass clinking stopped Julian in his tracks.

Julian's imagination immediately began running wild, from a lowly burglar breaking into the home right down to even an assassin laying in wait for the attack. He knew one, however, and Judas would surely warn him if someone placed a bounty on his head, right? Nobody in Hedgestone knew how deep his connection lay already, they couldn't. Julian went so far as rationalizing this intruder was a figment easily explained away by the dog simply knocking something off the counter. "Dodger, come here, boy." Julian called out uneasily.

"You know, that's the flaw of dogs, they're so trusting." A voice came floating from the kitchen before the body in which it belonged to crowded the doorway with Dodger at their side. The figure, tall and built slender, held a glass of bourbon in one hand he sipped at with a mannerly fashion only present in the higher social circles. And he was just as fashionably dressed as Julian remembered back in their high school days. "Maybe even too much."

"Chandler." Julian breathed an enormous sigh of relief, steadying his heartbeat as well as he could. It hadn't been long since he found himself in the other male's presence, a quick run-in at the Urie mansion after Austen's resurrection became public knowledge. The brief pleasantries were tainted by awkwardness especially with how the house of cards that was his relationship to Morrigan came crashing down unceremoniously. He always admired Chandler's confidence roaming the school halls like he owned it, head held high, and tenacity spilling from his lips. Julian could never adopt the loquacious candor Chandler presented with performance, and though the last name contributed to Chandy's infamy, Julian never saw him as cold-hearted or standoffish. "Come here, buddy." The man directed a murmur towards the dog and patted his thigh, watching Dodger trot over to stop at his master's rightful side. His gaze came to settle on the man, "Whatever the hell it is you're here for, I really don't have the mental capacity right now."

Chandler hummed lightly, glancing between the puppy and his owner, "I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. You weren't home yet and I personally didn't have the mental capacity as you so described it to make the tedious journey all the way back here. My time's far too precious, you know." He released a scoff and crossed the threshold into the living room before taking a seat in an armchair that was looking a little worse for wear. Every piece of furniture contained within Julian's apartment had been well-maintained apart from the one Chandler sat himself in. Which only bore a tell-tale indication of constant use. "We need to talk, Julian. Sit."

"Talk? Oh, now you want to have a little chat." Julian's words ran dry in his mouth, experiencing an understandable array of emotions given instructions from someone you do not want visiting your residence and stringing the sentence humankind has learned can only follow dread. "I think we both know what this is going to be about." He stated after a pause, shrugging an arm in defeat and finding a spot in the middle of the couch. Dodger didn't hesitate jumping up on the cushions and resting his head in Julian's lap. If there's one sliver of comfort he could focus on, it was that.

"I assure you, you don't. Not completely, anyway. And do spare the dramatics." Chandler crossed one leg over the other casually and touched his lips to the glass he still totted, allowing the silence rise between them until it would leave Julian slightly squirming. The art of intimidation isn't a lesson obtained without an expert leading by example. His father, both birth and adopted, didn't hesitate proving their throne of power at every opportunity. Julian shifted uncomfortably in his seat from where Chandy could see which he didn't enjoy as much as he imagined. "You see, dove, I don't hide the lengths I will and have gone in further establishing my loyalty to family. I'm a bonafide Urie through and through. My position, the wealth, all pale in comparison to my sister's happiness." He sat back comfortably, continuing the spiel, "You made her happy. I'll be the first to confess that I'm forever the captain of this secret Julian and Morri ship however doomed for failure it became." Chandler waved a hand dismissively, "No matter my personal liking of someone, Morrigan's safety is and has always been my priority."

"I'm not a threat to her." Julian couldn't be certain that was the point being presented. He never sensed an inkling of a doubt Chandler was the type of person who traveled the ends of the earth for those he held most dear. If their roles were reversed, god forbid, he would do the same for Casey and has gone to lengths protecting his sibling. Julian traded his life for Casey's when the borders closed for good knowing his time in Hedgestone was sealed anyway.

"Oh?" Chandler observed as the dark-haired male spent the pause digging around in his jean pocket and produced a cell phone. Nothing but the sound of Chandler's fingers tapping the surface filled the air until his searching came upon a video sent through a chain of text messages. The moment he pressed play and turned the screen around, Julian's stomach immediately dropped with recognition. There, displayed in color complete with sounds, was his private meltdown at the batting cage a couple days back. Being present there and experiencing the anger was one thing, watching himself was somehow worse. The defeated expression along his features must have caught Chandler's attention for the other resumed, "When the outside world sees a man who's centered his personality around patience and a calm head lose his shit so ferociously, people begin asking questions. They start making connections and all roads lead to their guarded leader."

"You had me followed." Julian mustered the statement quietly, feeling a nauseous bile linger in his throat.

"Of course I had you followed." Chandler lifted his gaze in an eyeroll and released a sigh surrounded by impatience as he shoved the device back into his pocket. "You've been followed even after our cover was blown, Julian, I personally saw to it during my time away from St. Cascadia. Morri isn't aware yet of the precautionary steps I've put in place, but she will once I take my leave." He debated showing her the video that accompanied the explanation. Chandler despised keeping secrets from Momo, but she would've been outspoken about her objections. "If somebody like me possesses the means to snag this footage, what makes you think the gossip bitch herself hasn't already?"

"No, no, no, why would you have any possible reason to do that?" Julian sharply sat up further in his seat to a point where Dodger lifted his head with slight alarm, but the man couldn't see straight. There have been eyes on him since the relationship toppled, watching him, anticipating his next move as if he were seconds from causing a woman he loved harm. Chandler's reasons hardly mattered now, surveillance or no, there's now digital evidence proving Julian approached dangerous territory. "I don't need you breaking into my apartment and telling me I've slapped a target on my back, Chandler. I suffered with it for years watching her from the sidelines. Seeing how the world treated her, how every person in our school looked at her, the mantle she took after what happened to her father and Desmond-"

Chandler raised his hand and swiftly interrupted the statement at the mere mention of their deceased brother, "Please, waste your breath and continue lecturing me on the burdens that come with being a leader. It's not as if I wasn't there attending unbearable lessons with Dezzie." He spit with sarcasm, pinching the bridge of his nose before leaning forward in seriousness Chandler couldn't stand. "Don't assume I'll send off this video for Savitri to peruse and post. I'm a petty bastard, but perception is everything." Especially from Hedgestone's many residents. "I understand how it seems you've been abandoned and left to drown as the rest of the faction moves on, dove. You two chose distance and that was supposed to save your life." Chandler straightened his posture with demanding assertion, "What you have been tormenting yourself over, you can't have it both ways and straddle the line. You can't love her and expect to remain the golden boy-next-door you've painted for the world's viewing."

Wasn't the notion sensible, believing a man harboring the best friend status found Julian's breakdown useful and present everyone's most reviled blogger the perfect opportunity to post the bombshell on a new target they haven't written about before? Julian knew the only reason the other male refrained and she wasn't in this room. Somehow, he cannot appreciate it the way Chandler hoped for, as if he preconceived a sign of gratitude. "Save my life? Staying in Hedgestone and watching as you both carry on as if you didn't destroy what little life I tried building consumed me, Chandler." He exclaimed in exasperation, shaking his head repeatedly. "Morrigan doesn't want to be with me anymore, I'm nothing. It was her kingdom or love and you know her choice."

"I cannot speak on Morri's behalf and give you a false sense of hope by promising she desires another whirlwind romance with her high school sweetheart, but you also can't proclaim standing at her side while simultaneously showing disgust for the blood on her hands. So to speak," Chandler's hazel gaze pulled from Julian and rested on the back of his own hand, inspecting the nails coolly. "Take a walk on the dark side and embrace who you could be if she happened to take you back. It's not a bad place to be garnering a leader's favor, handsome. Don't think of it a treachery or betrayal." He looked upon the oldest Reese through a half-lidded stare coated by playfulness. "Own it."

Julian could do nothing but process the words with mass confusion, staring dumb-founded as he pictured himself standing at the edge of a vast forest, nothing but swirling darkness reaching forward and claiming him. He traveled along its length for many years, always staying safe at the border, but never making a valiant dare hopping the fence to see what awaited on the other side. His foot slowly inched over, flirting the temptation, particularly regarding his interactions with dangerous people, and yet he still chose righteousness. Maybe he wasn't completely good. He wasn't innocent, perfectly behaved, nor angelic. What made him saintly maybe became an attractive appeal for Morrigan, but loving her turned his soul to poison. This is the eternal dark without a dawn. "You want me to own it. I mean, I had no way of knowing I was inflicted with whatever this is after I've lost everything. Right?"

"Ah," Chandler released a hum and nodded once in understanding, "Right, this is about wonder boy's little hot dish of gossip he calls an expository article." He himself threatened violence upon the reporter when the written piece crossed his phone's screen. An attractive imbecile, if he has ever been acquainted with one. "How rude it should be of me to send an assassin after him, would it not? Justified, but rather impolite. I'd prefer burying my own bodies."

Julian opened his mouth and expected a response to spill, ultimately closing it instead when there were a half dozen sarcastic statements that could have been offered. No, Leonardo's article did not sooth his anxieties and convince him he wasn't tearing the hair from his skull for no silly reason. "Yeah, so," He mustered, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that, you know, in case he disappears and I'm questioned. I don't really care to drop the soap for your benefit."

"No need dropping the soap when I have a view of that perfectly chiseled bottom for free any day." Contemplation covered his sharp features before the matter at hand pulled him back to reality. "Look, you haven't lost anything, Julian. Anyone who judges you for what your heart cannot help yearning are not true friends. It's not my responsibility to speak for Momo, but I will say this," Chandler rose from the chair to a standing position as his nimble fingers worked on the buttons of his designer coat. "Beyond the frigid distant dictator, I think she still loves you. You're the one who got away. The teenage dream, the..." He rolled his wrist as if it may help conjure the thoughts, "The reason why I do not have little nieces and nephews to spoil rotten by now."

Julian hesitantly followed the other's lead and stood up the same time Chandler had, folding his arms across his chest so he wouldn't fidget. "You really think if past events were different, we'd have children." A fantasy, a world without Douglas' existence suffocating his daughter's choices of the man she would spend the rest of her days with, just the two of them and any number Morrigan wanted for children. Whether it is one or three or ten, Julian would abide if her happiness persisted. "I know you're only saying it to make me feel better, but as long as I make sacrifices for her, I'll keep losing everything."

"And here I am, left playing the matchmaker." Chandler extended a hand and gently ruffled Dodger's head as he squeezed past both him and the dog's owner to reach the front door, shrugging, "You know the choice you're faced with, dove. Though, I'm tickled by an inkling you have already made it."

"Maybe I have. Now, it's up to Morrigan." Julian rounded the couch and met the other at the apartment's exit. The last few days brought an accumulation of extreme exhaustion and here Chandler arrives to dump the avalanche when all he needed was a beg for pitiful mercy. He was talented at that, wasn't he, throwing himself at clemency's feet and kissing the ground she walked. Why shouldn't his pleading extend towards her right hand man?

"Good. I knew I liked you for a reason. Other than those rippling pectorals and that hair even I'm jealous of." Chandler reached out his hand again and flirtingly wound a lock of Julian's curls around an index finger, humming as the man pulled away in annoyance. Releasing a chuckle, he dropped his arm and nudged open the door, "Allow me to arrange a meeting and perhaps, I'll see you around the mansion more often. God, how I have missed that face."

"Chandler?" Julian knew he should let this go and save the conversation for another day, but he waited over a decade for answers. He watched Chandler turn around at the sound of his name with the same curiosity shared between the two men. "You left me in that hallway with excuses, did you forget that?" Julian sure didn't. "I spent weeks debating whether I should've stood at those gates and waited for someone to come out to tell me what the fuck happened, but no, all I had were your words. That I was just a distraction, your amusement, that I'd been used for my naïve outlook." He stepped forward, closing the space that much further and feeling the same anger spike. "Is this you saying she actually loved me?"

When they were standing next to each other, Chandler only just noticed he towered over Julian by a few inches. Somehow, he knew the subject would land here. Their last chat at school after the incident at home. The unimaginable torture of the three Urie children and the reason he vanished on his travels. God, how he dreaded this confrontation. "I know you possess the brains in that pretty head of yours, Julian. Think about it," He tipped his head back, "You are bombarded by confirmed tales about our father from myself, you know the horror stories from Morrigan. One day, everything is fine and the next, we're no longer attending classes. Leaving me with the task of shattering a relationship Morri cannot do herself. Fill in the blanks, dove."

His worst fears realized. Julian couldn't face the fact he was being told complete lies back then and he was struggling coping with it now. He thought back on that day, pinpointing details overlooked by the initial shock. Something about Chandler's demeanor screamed exhaustion. The rings around his eyes, the irritability alone, hinted toward what had caused the haunted look on the other man's face. No smiles nor playfulness, only hidden desperation. "Tell me what happened, Chandler. Did he touch her?" He couldn't help playing the defensive even if the man in question was buried six feet under.

Chandy breathed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head with overwhelming sadness. "I can't, Julian, I'm sorry. Only four people know what happened and two are dead. It's in everyone's best interests if we keep it that way." He turned on his heel and placed a hand to the doorknob, the deja vu creeping along his spine of history repeating itself. Chandler's mind flashed backwards in time, to his torment implemented by his adopted father. His memories shut down a long time ago and he had no choice but leave that boy behind. Leave Julian behind. Something told him he couldn't do that this easily now. "Look," Chandler turned slightly, "You will never fully grasp the sacrifices Morri made for you, Julian. She, my brother, and I risked everything for you. We protected you...and I protected her." He allowed the statement sit for a second.

"If you can't tell me anything, then why come here at all?" Julian hissed through his teeth in frustration. That's what this is, a constant running in circles and a haunting of a ghost's tormenting whispers. This is the reason why he found himself at a batting cage, losing his marbles, and taking the insanity out on a meaningless fence that did absolutely nothing. It mattered little compared to what Morrigan must have endured at the hands of her father, something now left to his imagination. Just another reason he was relieved Douglas was gone. "Why play matchmaker now, as you called it? What are you really doing here, Chandler? Just enlighten me for once."

"Oh, handsome," Chandler reached out his hands and began straightening the collar of Julian's shirt with a wistful sigh, wanting to speak a million sentences and offer the brutal reasons why he does what needs doing. The mender, the guard dog, the loyal sibling protecting his sister's happiness. Even in that moment, though, he could appreciate Julian for merely what he was born with. Chandy and Morri always had that trait in common, a real taste for the attractive ones. "I'm fixing it."

Julian stood stock still, knowing the other's fussing had been a standard habit he relented complaining about. Maybe it was a method of caring, of acceptance, or it could have very well been an obvious flirtation. "How?" He brushed Chandler's hands away and stepped back while his gaze searched the other's expression. Clearly, guilt doesn't just weigh heavily, it also brings his ex's best friend to his doorstep in the search for mending past mistakes. Admirable. And confusing all the same.

Chandler considered this briefly, pondered his own plan weaving a solution for Morrigan and her past lover. Momo forever carried her shackles as a leader and guarded her heart safely, but if she understood how dire the situation became with regards to Julian's place in the dark from their secrets, she would know Douglas' leash shattered the day he died. One promised meeting and she could have everything if she asked it of Chandler. "Trust me." Trust me now like you trusted me back then.

"Chandler," Julian began as patiently as he could muster, "That's not a comforting answer-"

"Ah, ah, ah," Chandy shot out one hand and placed a finger to the man's lips in order to silence him which, he could have found rather humorous seeing how easily it succeeded in doing so, "It's the only answer I can provide for the time being. As of now, don't do anything stupid until you hear back from me, capeesh?" He patted Julian's cheek amusingly and didn't bother staying for drinking in the oldest Reese's stunned silence before finally taking his leave.

Chandler's last goodbye adhered to the basic identifiers of his ostentatious personality, finding new and improved ways earning jaw-dropping moments, making memorable exits no one could question. His mouth curved in a displeased frown as the straight and narrow road ahead veered into a completely different lane. It was slowly driving past an horrendous car crash one could not look away from, a beautiful disaster of mangled decisions and gruesome scars that would take ages to heal. Julian fought his losing battle for the very last time.

Right here and now, all he can do is dive headfirst and hope this isn't the death of him.

[inseparabiles]

Finn here. _o/

I find the way people in other cultures socialise inherently very draining, and the fast-pacedness @blurreynights describes is definitely one factor in that. It feels like social life and relationships in other cultures are going a hundred miles a minute, whereas in Finland, you really do get the slow burn of months and years before you move on from the category of "somebody that I know from x" to "someone I hang out with" and finally to "someone I'm friends with".

My partner is French and it still boggles my mind every time they come out with "I just met this person on the bus and we exchanged personal details to connect later :D". Like... you can just do that??? That's NORMAL? Meanwhile, I just had the second chat in a year with my next door neighbour, and consider that a massive social event. It's December as I'm writing this, for those of you using a time machine.

When I was a kid, doctors and teachers kept bringing up to my mum that I was "too selective" about my friend group and they wanted me to be more outgoing and social, which to me and my mum was always ridiculous, considering that I've never really needed any more friends than I have. From very early age on, I've had the same mentality when it comes to friendships: either I can trust you with anything and we go together well through thick and thin, or you're just not worth the energy spent. I've spared myself from a lot of heartache and drama this way, but it also does mean that I guess I'm a bit of a recluse even by Finnish standards, then. But in essence, the way I treat relationships is very traditional; I value loyalty, patience, and friendships that are forged over time and built on true connection and willingness to know one another and be involved in each other's lives, and I have very rarely been in situations where I've really been lonely. Passing loneliness is something that hits everybody, but the only time I was actually short on friends happened when I was in my early 20s, and I hit that phase where my school friends were turning into past acquaintances and I hadn't really made new ones yet. Being miserably mentally ill and unable to go to work or study, where you'd naturally meet new people, made this worse.

Aside from that, though, no, loneliness has never really been an issue for me. When you let people find you and you know how to open up with them, and be open to them, you typically do find friendship and most Finns are very warm and welcoming to others in their circles. We're curious people, even if we're quiet; I think it takes a lot more fine-tuned observation of subtle hints and cues and reading of vocal tones and body language in here to actually get the hint when people are interested in you, but if you have those social skills, at least for me it's never been an issue finding groups that I fit in with.

I think the biggest culture shock I experienced in Finland so far is around friendships, as well as the area where I learned a lot of valuable things about myself. I might not be entirely right about this as I've only been here for a short time, but those are my main take-aways:

(under the cut to not block ur tags w my english rambling)

Trying to build real friendships takes time, much longer than in my home country. It is relatively easy to get in contact with Germans in my experience, especially if you live in a bigger city and speak the language, ESPECIALLY if you are a student and just starting out in a new phase of your life. You will naturally hang out frequently if you match well and spend a lot of time together. It might take a few meetings before people will invite u to their home, but generally there's not much distance as soon as the ice is broken.

Here I feel like people are much slower and more reluctant to open up. But that doesn't equal rejection, it's simply a slower process and you will still be able to tell the difference between being rejected and being on the path of friendship. In Germany, it's usually a lot more fast paced and there is a small window you have to catch to get into tight friendgroups. If you miss it, no chance of ever going back, vibe gone chance gone. Also people who might have found you interesting could lose interest if you wait for too long (meaning usually a month or so) to get back to them.

I actually realized that this way of socializing stresses me tf out. I much prefer a more laid back approach where you can get to know each other without time limitations (of course prerequisite is that you have the time). It is a much more sustainable, thoughtful and respectful approach to someone elses time. You're not treated as disposable, but rather as a person someone actively chooses to get to know.

Likewise, if people feel like they either do not vibe with you or if they already have a very busy social life or life in general, they will let you know and don't pretend to have time or like you. This was quite a new thing to me and felt a bit cold, but I actually really appreciate it now, as it's saving you from stressful, draining interpersonal connections. It also made me respect some people immensely, because they know their own self worth and boundaries quite well.

It made me reflect upon my tendency to be a people pleaser, and the strong yearning I have to treat my own relationships the same way as I've experienced it here. I've grown so tired of superficial connections that are placeholders for true, fulfilling friendships. I used to think being lonely was the worst thing in the world. It kind of is still awful, but what's worse is being surrounded by a bunch of people you don't really click with or can rely on, which leaves you lonely as well. I do think letting go of this is something that will slowly seep over into my own life, as it is so freeing.

I also intend on staying, or rather coming back when I've finished up all my business back in Germany (I am not really rooted to the city I live in). People who I've told about this recent development were very worried if I would be able to be happy in a country that is (generally) much more reserved when it comes to social interaction, as I need social interaction regularly. I don't really think it's that big of an issue, as I think I can balance out people's passive approach with my more active one in the beginning. I have a high social battery, so I'm fine with interacting with a few more people, before people get truly comfortable to hang out on the regular. Yet I also prefer quality interactions over a bunch of small talk meetups I don't care about. I also still have my core friends who I talk to regularly on the phone, and this has been a tradition for years already before I came here.

What I am immensely struggling with right now is trying to make sense of all the connections I made in the past 10 years. This is the 6th city I lived in the last decade, and the 8th move. All my relationships feel so spread out and scattered. I am holding on to some solely because those people were there when I moved somewhere new and I didn't have anyone else. Like back in school, when I was friends with people because they were the only ones there. It's all a bit confusing and painful right now, as my values and perspectives are changing. I think there are a lot of people moving from the friends to acquaintance category right now. I'm completely redefining friendships for me at the moment.

[elodieunderglass]

Firstly, I wanted to say thank you for finally making Moby Dick comprehensible to me over a decade after I attempted to read it and bounced aggressively off it! But the thing I actually wanted to ask and boggle about is, you get a full year of maternity leave??? I think literally the company with the most mind-bogglingly generous policy I ever worked for (I'm in the US) only gave 7 months, and the place I'm at now only gives I think 3 or so.

You're very welcome! It's very exciting to me that a line by line translation of Moby Dick can make it so much more accessible.

On your second point - yeah! I'm always happy to talk about parental leave policies etc and how different countries handle them, not in a smug "Well, in the UK..." way but in a, "here's very concrete examples of how policies can work, and the material impact they have on people" sort of way, because that's genuinely something that needs to be communicated. Just like with the environmental crises, we are all limited by our ability to imagine the Healed World and what we need to do to get there. So what are some policies that are a bit more Healed-World-ish than the reality that many people live in, and how do they actually work? You are welcome to send me asks! Rumination below the cut.

I wouldn't have had kids if I'd stayed in the USA. I've chosen to have 3 in the UK. This is directly because of maternity leave, free childcare hours for toddlers, quality of childcare, accessibility of school/daycare, flexible working policies, generous holiday leave, and other factors like that. Does that seem weird to say? Should I have moped about in floods of divine baby-desire and universal mother-yearnings and stuff, and sacrificed everything to have squidgy babies? IDK, I've never felt any of those things: I love the children a lot as people and I'm obviously terrifically glad they're here, but I wouldn't have had any desire to have them in the first place if I hadn't been sure they'd have decent childhoods. And a childhood where a parent resents them because that parent had UNFULFILLED INTELLECTUAL GOALS, or where there's always stress because of MATERIAL DIFFICULTIES, wouldn't be decent. My desire to acquire the children has been very much based in the knowledge that I can afford them (financially, emotionally, socially, career-wise, mentally) without sacrificing or martyring myself. So, literally: even though I have 2 life-defining children and one more on the way, even though I'm considered in my immediate social circles to be a real earth-mother crunchy-type, even though I work part-time to spend time with the kids and so on: if I didn't live THIS life, I wouldn't want the children. So I think it’s interesting to see how a simple piece of policy, a difference between nations, so totally impacts and directs the course of an individual’s life.

RE: the actual practicalities, it breaks down a funny way. In the UK, they hold your job for you for up to a year, usually hiring a temporary maternity cover: if they can't give you the same job back, they have to give you a similar one. If you return in 6 months it’s like you didn’t leave at all and get the exact job back. Maternity leave is usually taken for about 9 months, with paternity leave often adding an additional 3 months, and children usually entering childcare at the age of 1.

The actual way that this gets calculated is pretty complicated. My job offers 6 months on full pay, which is a "benefit" - otherwise the default is only 6 weeks on full pay. After the full pay runs out, you're on SMP - Statutory Maternity Pay - which is £156.66 per week. SMP runs out at nine months. If you want more time than that, your job gets held for a full year, but you'll be on 3 months unpaid. -> HOWEVER, you've been accruing annual leave the whole time you've been off, so when the baby is 9 months old, you might expect to have about 6 weeks of holiday that built up. Holiday is taken at full pay rates. So depending on how much holiday you have, you just return to work while on vacation and get paid again.

If you return to work at 6 months, which is sort of the minimum normal time to take off, you get your exact same job back. If you take longer than 6 months, you get that "offer of an equivalent job" but no promise of having your job back - which can worry people. So sometimes people happily choose to take only 6 months off, because they want their exact same projects back.

So what will happen with me is

6 months off on full pay, Dr Glass takes about 1 month off on full pay parental leave at the beginning to provide support

(Child2 enters age where they get 30 hours/week free childcare, daycare bills drop to basically just Child1's afterschool programs from here until last bullet point. As Dr Glass and I both work part time, this means that each day of the week will have a mix of different children, activities and work. We will hopefully be able to bank a little bit of childcare-budget to coast on for the next bits.)

3 months off where I'll only make £624 a month SMP: it’s not nothing and so should be grateful, except for the relentlessness of life. I also get £150/month from the government for having two children - nothing for the third because that would be encouraging families to rely on benefits and have children for money, or something, naturally. Dr Glass will be working, but no family can really lose almost half a wage and be cheerful about it, so we'll have to coast on savings banked from the room freed up in the childcare budget. (we thought it would just about work before the cost-of-living crisis, when we filed our plan paperwork, and gotta say, it’s looking pretty scary now.) we’ll prioritise the mortgage and utilities in cash, and should be able to coast it.

2-ish months off but "on holiday," i.e. back on full pay

Dr Glass overlaps one month off on full pay (holiday + shared parental leave) plus two months totally unpaid, i.e. Unpaid Leave, i.e. Dr Glass keeps his job and simply takes two months off, making £0 a month. Again, this will be hard to get through, but as we know it's coming, we have time to make SOME savings to live on. This allows Dr Glass to have time with his last child, which is a priority for us over debt, and gets the baby comfortably to the age that our nursery accepts.

Both parents return to work. Baby will enter daycare aged 1 (Child2 remains on free hours, daycare bills go back up to mortgage-level payments, finances return to exactly where they were before Baby3.) hopefully we’ll be able to quickly pay down any debts incurred with two full wages.

You can see it's doable, but there are some scary flippin' periods and a tremendous amount of footwork. We've somehow managed during harder times; with Child1 I was the sole breadwinner for the household and was at a job where I only got SMP, so I went back to work at 6 months and Dr Glass was a SAHP for a long time; with Child2 it was pandemic and lockdown etc, and no childcare was available, so we all ricocheted around the house together for a year. So clearly something absolutely bonkers is going to happen in 2023, but if it doesn't, we might actually have one (1) normal baby-leave.

As you can see, it's NOT the Healed World, but it has aspects that you'll want to include in the Healed World. You can see the impacts on things like family design - the kids all being 3 years apart for affordability, as that's when the free childcare hours kick in - and the way that fathers are still sort of wedging themselves in. You can see how it gets cobbled together and stressful, and the bits where you have to coast over patches that could just as easily destroy a family (watch this space! We might go completely fucking broke! We’re about £200 away from it at all times as it it!) You can see that there are some privileges (having a partner, partner having a job) that materially affect the experience people have. You can see how sometimes people can take a year and others return to work at 6 months (I've done both! Both can be great and both can suck, but it's MUCH better when you choose it for yourself, rather than being forced financially.) you can see that some cruel and stupid policy decisions are meant to punish poor people in the UK for having children despite the lack of internal logic (no child benefit for over 2 kids, when child benefit is meant to help you raise citizens.) You can see places where a conservative politician could shit on one vulnerable place (like the UK’s free childcare hours for three year olds! Liz Truss was thinking about killing it!) and entirely destroy my family at a stroke. You can see that for all my stance of “I am not a martyr” for my children, I’m expecting to have spent several years of my life flippantly being marginally-waged for the sake of having them: but also, you can see the difference between the support the UK gives my stance, and the support a 20-year-old military wife in the American heartland gets with her first baby: you can see how eased the paths of my children are, how isolated hers will be. You can step back from the worldwide generational immolation of mothers, their narratives of sacrifice and drudgery, and unpack how much of that is truly necessary, and how much damage could have been resolved by simply rinsing off the TERF shit, offering a few scraps of healthcare, and giving them a few fucking months off work.

We are all worldbuilding the Healed World: it makes sense to understand the different ways it could work. I’ll longpost about any policy you guys would like until then.