#but in my defense she can’t talk so I can’t really include her in the generator

[incorrect-upon-a-witchlight]

Gricko: I had to pick up Hootsie early.

Frost: That’s alright. Has she been sick?

Gricko: No, not sick, she’s just very upset because she’s had a hard day.

Frost: Wait, why did she have a hard day?

Gricko: she took her two pet snails to school with her today, and she had the snails in her book bag. She let out the snails by the sink in the back of the classroom for some exercise, and Torbek, who was visiting the class that day, thought they were snails that had come inside from the playground, so he threw Hootsie’s snails out the window.

Frost: Oh my god.

Gricko: I know you are laughing, Frosty, but please act sad about it when we get home today.

Frost: I’ll try but that is hilarious.

Gricko: Yeah, I know. Stupid pet snails.

Gricko: I’m trying not to let Hootsie see me laugh.

[pucksandpower]

Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

[vampireimiko]

i loved your most recent steve work! i was wondering if i could request an eddie work similar to that where the hellfire club just doesn’t believe that he could have a gf

Full of Surprises

warnings, none! note, this was fun to write !! also i didn't include the whole hellfire club i didn't feel like writing the extras in💔

"Eddie, you expecting a call or something? You keep staring at the phone like a maniac." Mike pointed out.

"You noticed too?! I didn't wanna say anything but holy shit, every few seconds he stares at it." Dustin agrees.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah I'm uh, just waiting on my girlfriend to call." he muttered, his tone nonchalant, but the room instantly fell into a stunned silence.

Mike’s eyes widened. “Girlfriend?”

Dustin snorted, crossing his arms. “Sure, Eddie. And I’m dating Madonna.”

Eddie shot them both an annoyed glance. “I’m serious.”

The skepticism in the air was palpable. Lucas raised an eyebrow from across the room, tossing a pencil onto the table. “Eddie Munson... with a girlfriend? That’s rich.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, defensively, leaning forward.

Dustin shrugged, an innocent grin on his face. "C'mon, man. If you had a girlfriend, we would’ve heard about it by now."

"And met her," Lucas added.

Eddie groaned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Not everything revolves around you guys, y’know. Some relationships are private."

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike exchanged skeptical glances before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, right! What, does she go to another school or something?" Mike teased.

"Yeah there's no way in hell Eddie Munson gets bitches." Dustin laughed.

"Well news flash, Dusty boy! I do infact gets bitches. Not that my girlfriends a bitch or anything." He said adding that last part very quickly. Even though you weren't there, he'd never disrespect you like that or in any way for that matter.

Dustin raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, so you get bitches. Prove it."

"Yeah, let’s see some evidence," Lucas added with a smirk. "I mean, it’s kinda hard to believe when we’ve never even seen her. Is she invisible or something?"

Eddie huffed, tapping his fingers on the table, clearly annoyed but trying to keep his cool. "She’s not some trophy I need to parade around, alright? She’s busy. She’s got... a job! School stuff too."

"Uh-huh, and I’m guessing she also lives in Canada and only writes letters?" Mike quipped, earning a round of chuckles from the others.

Eddie sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine! You wanna meet her so bad? She’ll come by Hellfire next week."

Dustin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, really? Can’t wait."

"Yeah yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. Now enough about his imaginary girlfriend, I'm hungry." Mike interrupted.

The next week couldn’t have come fast enough for the Hellfire boys. The anticipation was thick in the air as they sat around the table, pretending to focus on the campaign, but their eyes constantly darted to the door. Even Eddie, who usually basked in his Dungeon Master role with enthusiasm, seemed a little distracted, checking his watch more than usual.

Dustin nudged Lucas under the table. “You think he’s actually gonna pull through? Or are we about to witness the most embarrassing bluff in Hellfire history?”

Lucas smirked. “I dunno, man. He’s been pretty confident. It’s either the truth, or he’s about to go down in flames.”

The whole week leading up to this very moment, Eddie talked about you to the guys. They obviously did not believe him one bit. Eddie had told them about some of your hobbies, favorite movies, he was even close to telling them where you worked but quickly decided against that.

They always asked him to just give out your name, but then they'd know who you were obviously. Eddie wanted to keep a little bit of mystery surrounding your identity. News flash, you were a quite known person at Hawkins High.

"Can't wait to see him squirm either way," Mike added with a grin.

Eddie, sensing their whispers, glared across the table. “You know, you guys are real supportive friends.”

“We’re just preparing for disappointment, Eddie,” Dustin shot back, hands raised. “Don’t take it personally.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, there was a knock on the door. The room fell silent, and all eyes shot toward the entrance. Eddie’s cocky grin returned as he stood up, walking over to the door with a confidence that even had Dustin second-guessing his skepticism.

He swung the door open, and there she was—you. Dressed casually, you gave Eddie a warm smile before stepping into the room, completely unaware of the stunned expressions plastered across the faces of his friends.

“Hey, babe,” Eddie greeted you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Told you I wasn’t making her up.”

The room was deathly quiet, the boys blinking in disbelief as you walked further into the room.

Mike was the first to break the silence. “Holy shit. Y/N Y/LN?

You laughed softly, glancing at Eddie before turning back to the group. “I take it he’s been bragging about me?”

“More like we didn’t believe you existed,” Lucas admitted, still wide-eyed. "Much less did we expect the girlfriend to be you?!"

Dustin was still frozen, mouth hanging open in shock. “Eddie... how?”

Eddie grinned smugly, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Told you, Dustin. I get bitches. Not that I'm calling you a bitch." He quickly clarified, knowing you didn't tolerate any type of getting called out of your name.

You playfully elbowed him in the side. “I know you'd never do anything like that."

Eddie chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

"Anyway, nice to meet you guys! I've seen you around and Eddie talks about you guys all the time." You exclaimed cheerfully, extending a hand to the nearest person to you, which happened to be Mike.

Mike, still in shock, shook your hand cautiously, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “Uh, nice to meet you too…”

Lucas stood up, still blinking. “Okay, I have to ask—how the hell did Eddie Munson land a girlfriend like you?”

You laughed, glancing over at Eddie with a playful smile. “What can I say? He’s full of surprises.”

Eddie grinned proudly, leaning against you. “See? Told you guys. I’m not just some lonely metalhead.”

Dustin finally regained his composure, shaking his head. “This has to be some kind of cosmic glitch. I mean, Y/N Y/LN... and Eddie Munson? Something isn't right."

Lucas nodded in agreement, still processing. “Seriously, I gotta know—what did he say to win you over?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Well, he didn’t try too hard, if that’s what you’re thinking. Eddie’s actually... kind of sweet once you get past all the theatrics.”

Eddie gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. Theatrics are part of the charm.”

You giggled and gave him a loving look.

Mike snorted. “Yeah, we’re still trying to figure out what charm you’re talking about.”

Eddie shot Mike a look, then turned back to you, clearly soaking in the validation. “See what I deal with?”

You shook your head, laughing. “They’re not so bad, Eddie. Just a little... doubtful.” You glanced at the group, your expression softening.

Dustin nodded. “You’re like, Hawkins royalty compared to... well, Eddie.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Eddie a curious look. “Royalty, huh?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but you could tell he secretly liked the sound of it. “They exaggerate. A lot.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Well, royalty or not, he’s good to me. And that’s what matters.”

Mike finally cracked a grin. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’re not completely full of shit, Eddie.”

Dustin laughed, pointing a finger. “Still can’t believe it though. You lucked out, Munson.”

Eddie smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Told you, man. I’m full of surprises.”

additional note ! my requests are open if you wanna have me write something<3

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[thoughtfulfiction]

Shift in the Routine II

Thank you so much for the love on part 1! Hope this one gives you all the feels. Joe requests are open!

masterlist

“Can you just…tell me exactly what happened?From the beginning.”

You sigh, running a hand over your face, thinking about the various ups and downs you’d been through emotionally the last few days. “There’s nothing new to tell, I told him I need to think about things and he was supportive of that. He really hurt me Rach, I can’t just—forget about it and move on.”

“I completely understand where you’re coming from. It’s just,” she pauses, trying to find the words. “What about—”

“The game on Monday night? Under no circumstances am I watching that,” you promise her, crossing your arms in protest of what was expected of you.

“Bengals defense missing a tackle? Likely place for them to be. This game is going to give me an ulcer.” You slammed your drink on the table, putting your head in your hands in hopes that they’d get a stop if you looked away for a bit.

Rachel watched silently, still trying to understand the rules of this football thing. She found you more entertaining than the game most of the time.

“Oh my god, how many times are we going to go for it on fourth and short and not convert?” This season had been full of trying moments, forcing you think back on the few times you snuck in to catch a peak of what Joe was seeing on film when these things would happen.

“FACEMASK?” You yell. “There’s no way in the world they just miss that? Hello? They’re literally trying to rip his head off, that should’ve been a first dow—wait,” you pause, standing up out of your seat for the first time in a few hours. “Is he…is he limping? He’s limping, right?”

Rachel sits up, joining in your concern but also slightly amused at the situation, considering the fact that you said you weren’t going to watch the game and the two of you had been glued to the tv before kickoff. “No matter how much you don’t want to admit it to anyone, including yourself, you still care about him. A lot.”

“I do care,” you swallowed, feeling like your heart was in your stomach at the thought of being in pain. That sleeve didn’t look like it was going to protect anything. “Maybe I care a little too much? Which is exactly why I’m in this predicament. Because let’s be real, on paper? We do not make sense. He doesn’t even flinch spending $3 million and I cry a little if I add too many things to my Amazon cart.”

Rachel laughs, tossing a few pieces of Chex mix into her mouth. “That’s because your job is stingy with raises. And with Joe? Just talk to him. Go see him tomorrow, give him his gift and go from there, see how you feel about everything.”

You admired her ability to put a positive spin on a situation that you felt was pretty much doomed. Maybe you could have one more day of happiness with him tomorrow before walking away for good. That may be your best bet, to just cut all communication and quit cold turkey. After his birthday of course. Dumping someone before their birthday just sounded really terrible and you’d spent a long time getting him this special present so there was no way you weren’t going to see the look on his face in person as he opened it.

The drive felt uncomfortably long. They had gotten a much needed win and he seemed happy enough postgame. But what if he didn’t want to see you? You’d been so focused inward on your feelings and what you needed to do that you really hadn’t had the time to even wonder what Joe’s thought process was. Just in case he wasn’t in the mood for company, you knocked on the door instead of letting yourself in.

Clad in a purple Nike hoodie you remembered borrowing a few times, there he stood in front of you with a blank look on his face.

Solid start.

“Why did you knock? You could’ve just come in.” His hair looks extra fluffy, like he woke up not too long ago, taking it extremely easy after coming home late and taking quite a few hits in last night’s game.

You pushed down the nerves, determined to make today neither awkward nor painful for all parties involved. “Happy birthday. I brought your favorite smoothie from Rune and…did a package come in this morning?”

He thanks you, grabbing the drink out of your hand and closing the door behind you. You can tell he’s moving gingerly. “Yeah I had them put it in the garage. So…are we still—”

“In relationship limbo? Definitely. But today is your day and I’m not a monster,” you joke as a smile forms on his face. And I wanted to see you for myself to make sure you weren’t going to lie. How’s your knee?”

Joe looks at you affectionately, almost visibly resisting the urge to reach out to you. His first instinct was always to give you a comforting squeeze or a gentle hand on your shoulder as a form of reassurance, he just wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate given the circumstances.“Careful, it almost sounded like you were worried about me for a second there.”

“I do not care about you. I care about my favorite football team’s starting quarterback and his well being for the rest of the season. That’s all. Don’t read too much into it.” You were lying through your teeth and both of you knew it.

He nods slightly, catching you looking at his leg or any sign of pain in his face if he so much as leaned over the counter. And if you still had a soft spot for him somewhere in there that was enough. “I feel ok. It’s sore but it’s Tuesday and the day after games is always touch and go. You know that.”

You quickly learned just how exhausting some postgame days were. His body bruised easily so sometimes he looked like he’d honestly been in a fight of some kind. And lost…badly. Moving around was slow and painful as if he were closer to being put in a retirement home than he was to playing another bruising game the next week. But the next day was usually back to normal and you were always in awe at his ability to bounce back. Having everything laid out in front of you like this made it easy to understand why he had such a strict schedule. Eating and sleeping and everything in between were catered to help him recover.

“Are you ready to open your gift?”

Joe sighs, stating that he doesn’t need more presents but you give him a look and he knows it’s best to just follow you to the garage. “I didn’t realize how big this is,” he notes, a hint of apprehension in his voice, “you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

He runs his fingers along the top of wrapping, deep in thought for a few seconds before you urge him to open it. Carefully peeling back the paper, Joe pulls back the layers to reveal a one of a kind Seinfeld painting.

“Before you say anything, look at the back,” you tell him when he looks at you like he’s about to open his mouth. On the back is a handwritten note from Jerry Seinfeld himself. Joe’s jaw actually drops and he’s rendered speechless, silently rereading the words over and over. “It goes great with the pants, that I somehow knew you’d be wearing today. How predictable.”

He shrugs and looks down at the well worn blue pants, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “What can I say?”

“That you’re a millionaire who’s also a serial outfit repeater? What would Anna Wintour say if she could see you now?”

“She’d probably say that I pull off the lazy look very well,” he retorts with a laugh. Looking back at the painting and then at you, Joe feels a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He had no idea how you got this but he’s sure it took a long time and you went to great lengths to make it possible, to make him happy. “Thank you,” he whispers, suddenly not trusting his voice.

You find yourself in his arms before you even register that your body has moved, clinging onto him like your life depends on it. Part of you wanted to stay, be in this moment and let yourself fall back into the routine of a grueling season with the person who clearly brought you an immense joy unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Joe was your peace, your picnic on a sunny day and it was scary to see how easily the two of you hadn’t missed a beat, teasing each other and talking like lifelong friends who could read each other like a book. The thing that was breaking your heart the most is that Joe had become your best friend, the one you could talk to about any and everything while simultaneously making your heart beat out of your chest at the effortless romance that came from this playful and unexpected connection.

But was that really enough? When you gave his body one more squeeze before stepping back, Joe couldn’t help the awful thought going through his mind that this could be the last hug. Not wanting to tear himself away from the embrace, he awkwardly and very hesitantly lets you go, standing alone in the garage after you wish him happy birthday again and leave. All that progress he’s thought the two of you had just made was out the door and he was stuck with the coolest gift he’d ever received and a sense of emptiness inside him that only you could fill.

The next day in the facility he was locked in. Focused solely on football from the moment he walked in, went through walkthrough as he tried to avoid the Hard Knocks crew and conducted his weekly press conference like it was another day. Only after he got in the car did he allow himself to really acknowledge that he was missing you. Yesterday was supposed to have helped and it did, but it also just made him realize that life was just better with you around and he couldn’t keep letting you walk away.

He’d admittedly been quiet last night at dinner with his parents and when they asked if he was okay he just told them that the season was weighing on him a bit, not exactly ready to divulge the fact that he was seeing someone and had potentially ruined it all in the same breath. That may result in too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer. So he scheduled time to speak with the one person he could always turn to for guidance and perspective.

And 24 hours later, as soon as he walked in the door, he set his stuff down and went upstairs to his room for an emergency Zoom meeting with his therapist. After the session was over and he had a moment to think, he pondered his therapist’s words urging him to think about one defining moment that encapsulates your relationship to guide him in his next steps.

The two of you had finished eating dinner during the bye week on the couch. Sushi boxes were discarded on the table as you forced him to watch some cooking show. You slid your feet under his leg, desperately searching for warmth in places where the blanket just wasn’t enough.

“Your feet cold again?” You nod. “Babe, you might have circulation issues or something, should probably get that checked out,” he grins, lifting himself up so he can grab your legs and put them in his lap. His touch instantly brings heat to your limbs, shooing away the frigid air and replacing it with a soft glow that you’re pretty sure has surrounded you since you and Joe made things official.

Once you’ve warmed up enough you cross over to the other side of the couch to wrap yourself up in him, as close as you possibly can. Nights like this feel like his own little peace of heaven, your arm resting casually on his chest and your bodies practically glued to each other, becoming one simultaneous heartbeat. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head, laying there in complete bliss, all of worries about football, the team and their season out the window for a bit. The weight of carrying a franchise is easily lifted when you’re around, keeping his feet on the ground in times when he would have his head in the clouds. For one second everything makes sense and it’s perfect…until it hits him square in the chest.

He’s in love.

Joe comes back to himself, snapping out of that bye week memory wiping a tear that he hadn’t realize was coming down his face. His heart tightens at recognizing why he’d lashed out at you and said those horrible things. It wasn’t football stress at all. It was fear driving him, he reverted back to the person he was trying to work on. And instead of being honest, he’d built an emotional wall around himself disguised as work stress to keep himself from saying those three words at a time he thought could be too soon for the two of you and scare you off. Because it was definitely terrifying him, even if he felt it. And now he may have lost you as a result of his actions.

On Friday, he actually looked forward to enjoy the off day, after he got his morning workout in at the facility. And then you texted him to tell him you were walking into the house.

You looked nervous and he didn’t like it. “Is this a bad time?” He shakes his head no, unsure if he wants to do this right now. The quarterback was really regretting coming home right about now. Being at the stadium watching the guys play golf would’ve been a much faster but still painful death. This was just torture.

“I’ve been thinking…a lot. And,” you take in a deep breath, hoping that filling your lungs with lots of air can make what you have to say a bit easier.

Joe pales, thinking that you’ve put off breaking up with him because of his birthday. He wants to brace himself for impact. He should respect your wishes, whether he agrees or not, but you both know he isn’t one to go down without a fight. “Before you dump me, I just—I have to tell you how sorry I am. You bulldozed through my life like freight train with your royalty jokes and your horrible day and I knew I needed more. Wanted to know everything about you. But I’m not great at this. Emotions aren’t easy to talk about and I usually pride myself on not showing them and you’ve brought them out of me. So when things got a little too real, I shut down. You’re one of the greatest things in my life but I really messed it up.”

“Joe…” you say quietly, begging the tears not to come.

He stops you, “if I don’t get this out, I might not get another chance. I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t want to be around you when the truth is that sometimes it’s all I want. You mentioned schedules and—and routines. Nowhere in my plans did it include falling for someone this soon and I pushed you away because I was scared, not because you’re a distraction but because—being with you makes me have to admit that the things I feel for you aren’t like anything I’ve ever felt before. I’m sorry I hurt you in the midst of realizing that.”

You look at him, trying to memorize every one of his features. The natural bags under his eyes are a bit more pronounced, a slight glimmer in his ocean eyes give away all of the emotions written on his face. He looks devastated, a look all too familiar to you since you and the entire country have seen him look dejected and defeated several times throughout the season. But there’s something more distressing hidden behind his gaze. An indescribable amount of worry etched across his features.

Joe looks…heartbroken.

The honesty and raw intensity of his words are almost enough to render you speechless, but you came here for a reason.

You clear your throat before you speak, biting back your own emotions. “Joseph I’m not breaking up with you. Believe me, I wanted to and I thought about all the reasons why maybe I should. Because I don’t think I’m built for this life,” you look down at your feet, heaving out another breath before looking up at him and holding out your hand for him to hold.

“None of this is easy and sometimes, yeah I doubt myself. And you are very moody for like half the year. But there’s nowhere else I want to be and no one else I’d rather be with. Through the honeymoon phase or 60 years from now when when we’re senile and yelling at each other about the tv remote. Mostly me yelling you staring angrily but—as long as we’re together, I really don’t care. What I’m saying is…I don’t want easy. I want you.”

The tension in his shoulders is released almost immediately. “So you’re saying you’re stuck with me?” He laughs, a sense of relief taking over him. “And you aren’t just saying that because you haven’t had Boca in almost two weeks, right?”

“Your ability to get me their Maple Mascarpone Cheesecake whenever I want is not the main reason why I love you. That’s just one of many.”

You take a second to realize what you just said, opening and closing your mouth a few times but no words are coming out.

Joe’s smiling so big his face is starting to hurt. “You just said you love me.”

Tilting your head to look at him, laughing a little. You can’t believe you let it slip out like that. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Say it again,” he says softly, squeezing your hand and taking a few steps toward you.

You shake your head, one of your hands finding their way into his hair as you pull him in.

The man’s breath hitches as he melts into your touch, the kiss slowly putting him back together, free from all the anxious energy he’d put aside as a defense mechanism. “Joseph, I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The sound of your words radiate against his lips, sending a never ending shiver down his spine.

"I love you too,” he utters with such sweetness you feel like your heart is exploding. “And I missed you.”

He leans in and pours two weeks of apologies and love into the kiss and after all this time of not being close to him, you never want to let him go again. You eventually do separate, only because you need air, and giggle at the fact that you actually still haven’t let each other go. With your fingers intertwined, you lead him upstairs. “Do you need help packing?” Joe steals another quick peck, whispering yes because he’s not letting you out of his sight until it’s time for him to leave tomorrow.

None of this was part of the plan but now that your soul has found its match, you really don’t have a choice but to dive in.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wait. And wait. And wait. 

Each day, each week, your hope dwindles. Barrett doesn’t change. He’s not going to change. You know for sure as you watch him storm out. 

That’s why you didn’t talk to him sooner. It always ends like this. He gets defensive, you get emotional, and it all erupts. If he would just listen! 

You sigh and hold your chin in your hand. You look around at your small apartment. Even when you’ve just cleaned, it feels cluttered. You hate this place. You feel trapped. Or maybe that’s your relationship. Probably, both. 

You don’t think it was that bad to ask for a bit of understanding. All you want is for him to communicate. Instead, he sits on all his gripes until the bubble over in another rant about the squeaky bathroom faucet or the way you fold his shirts. It’s always on you. You’re the one who has to make him happy. Never the other way around. 

This time, it wasn’t the dishes or the mopping or the recycling. Nope. You’re not attentive enough. You’re depriving him. You’re punishing him by not having sex with him after working overtime four nights out of five. It can’t be that you’re tired or hurt. No, it’s an attack on him. 

That’s where it all fell apart.

You tried. Once you got past the frustration and tried to just let the waters calm. When you started talking to him again and fell back into your routine. You were both too busy to keep the fight going. And a few nights, you let him initiate but something would keep you from going all the way. 

Something... 

You saw Wendy last week. She didn’t mention anything about the night you went out. Didn’t mention a guy. She said she had fun and you should do it again. You told her you can’t afford it. Besides, you’re too tired. She called you boring. She’s not wrong. 

You get up and distract yourself. Well, it’s not really for you, is it? You’ll clean everything from corner to corner so he has nothing to complain about. You don’t need him to nitpick another reason to hound you. 

So much for time off. Once more you’re spending it in misery. You finish vacuuming then spray the couch with some freshener. Feeling accomplished but not less addled, you go to the bedroom and pull out some clothes for tomorrow. You’ll go to bed early and get a head start. If you’re lucky, you’ll be asleep before he drags his sorry ass home. 

You yawn as you stare at the time. It’s barely five o’clock and you could keel over. These days, you’re beat to the bone. You can’t remember the last time when you didn’t feel like a sack of dirt. You put your work clothes on the dresser then grab a fresh towel for the shower. 

You wash up, soothed by the warm water, and emerge in a hazy cloud. You go through the motions of applying the discount bin toner and moisturizer. You feel a little fresher. 

You tuck into bed and scroll on your phone for a while. Six-thirty. You black the screen and close your eyes. It takes as much to put you to sleep. 

You dream about flashing lights and the clink of glass. You’re swaying to a drone of music, spinning and swirling. The place is painted in streaks of colours as you keep moving. And when you manage to stop, the room turns on an axis, keeping you dizzy. 

Arms wrap around you from behind and pull you back into a thick body. You can’t escape. You look down and know those aren’t your husband’s hands. Where are you? Who is holding onto you? 

You try to turn around but it’s impossible. You’re stuck in the strange embrace as the neon lights melt and the air pulses with shadows. You push on the arms around you and wriggle desperately.

“Let me go,” you beg, “let me go.” 

Your words rise to a shriek and you wake up with a start. There’s a figure in the room watching you, as if waiting for you to wake up. You almost scream for real as Barrett stares at you. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay before he turns away. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he grumbles. 

You don’t argue as you catch your breath and lower yourself back to the pillows. You can smell the tinge of beer left behind. He’s been drinking. You can’t begrudge him that, not really. Last time it got bad, you did the same thing. At least he came home. 

You cringe. No. Stop. Nothing happened. No one can prove it happened. Not even you. So, it didn’t. 

Your stomach mulches and you turn onto your side. The nausea roils in your stomach. You must be hungry. You didn’t eat. Yet the thought of doing so makes you even sicker. You burp and swallow down the mouthful of acid that sears your throat. 

Stress. It’s stress. And it’s not going to get any better. Not with everything you’re running away from. 

[baelabong]

ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ - rooftop calm

(ʜᴏᴛʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴᴊᴇᴏɴɢ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ)

Plot: minjeong doesnt like getting told off, y/n likes telling minjeong off

Notes: just a little part in mj and y/n’s story

masterlist || next

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As Minjeong sat in class, trying to focus on the lesson, she could feel the irritation building inside her. The teacher was droning on, completely oblivious to the fact that half the class had already checked out, including her. She could barely concentrate as it was, and the teacher's monotonous voice wasn't helping.

But then, the teacher called on her. "Minjeong, care to answer the question?"

She blinked, not having a clue what the question was. She hadn't been paying attention. "I... I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

The teacher sighed, exasperation clear in their tone. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, Minjeong. You need to start taking your education seriously. Your grades have been slipping, and it’s like you’re not even trying."

Minjeong's jaw clenched. It wasn’t like she didn’t care, but the way the teacher was speaking to her, as if she was some lost cause, hit a nerve. "I do try," she retorted, her voice cold. "But maybe if your lessons were more engaging, I'd actually care about what you're saying."

The teacher’s eyes narrowed. "Excuse me? You think this is my fault? You’re the one who needs to put in the effort. If you can’t keep up, maybe you should consider whether you belong in this class at all."

The words felt like a slap in the face, and Minjeong could feel her temper flaring, her control slipping. "Maybe if you weren’t so focused on belittling students, they'd actually want to learn from you!" she shot back, her voice rising.

The classroom fell silent, every eye now on her, but she didn’t care. The teacher's face turned a deep shade of red, their composure cracking. "That’s enough, Minjeong. If you don’t change your attitude, you’ll be looking at detention. I suggest you watch your mouth before you dig yourself into a hole you can’t get out of."

Minjeong could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her anger reaching its peak. She wanted to say something more, to really let loose, but she knew that if she didn’t leave now, she’d end up in even bigger trouble. So instead, she pushed herself up from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I’m done here," she muttered, turning on her heel and storming out of the classroom without waiting for permission.

The door slammed behind her, and she heard the murmurs start up as soon as she was gone, but she didn’t care. All she could focus on was the fire in her chest, the frustration boiling over as she stormed down the hall, her fists clenched and her mind racing with all the things she wished she’d said.

She storms up to the school rooftop, her fists clenched and her mind racing with anger. The door to the rooftop slams open, and she strides to the ledge, barely noticing the city sprawling out beneath her. Her chest heaves with each breath as she replays the argument in her head, thinking of all the comebacks she wished she’d thrown at the teacher.

A few minutes later, Y/N quietly follows her up to the rooftop. Despite being the shorter and meeker-looking one between the two, Y/N steps forward with confidence, knowing exactly how to handle her fiery girlfriend. When Minjeong hears the door open again, she turns sharply, her glare immediately falling on Y/N.

“What do you want?” Minjeong snaps, her voice still laced with anger. “You’re not going to lecture me too, are you? Because I’m not in the mood for any of that right now.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “What, so now you’re taking your anger out on me? Real mature, Minjeong.”

Minjeong scoffs, crossing her arms defensively. “Maybe I am. You don’t get it, Y/N. You weren’t there. That teacher—”

“Enough,” Y/N interrupts, her voice calm but firm. Despite her smaller stature, there’s an undeniable authority in her tone that makes Minjeong pause. “You’re upset, I get it. But don’t take it out on me. I’m not your punching bag.”

Minjeong opens her mouth to argue but then closes it, the heat in her glare faltering under Y/N’s steady gaze. Y/N steps closer, not backing down even as Minjeong towers over her.

“Now, are you going to keep acting tough, or are you actually going to talk to me?” Y/N asks, her tone softer now but still carrying that unyielding edge.

Minjeong clenches her jaw, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something that makes her heart beat a little faster. She looks away, unable to hold Y/N’s gaze any longer. “Fine. Just… fine.”

Satisfied, Y/N plops down beside her on the ledge, their height difference making the contrast between them even more apparent. Without saying anything, Y/N pulls out a cold drink from her bag and hands it to Minjeong.

"Here," Y/N says, her teasing tone returning. "Maybe this’ll cool you down."

Minjeong hesitates, then takes the drink with a huff, though she avoids looking directly at Y/N. “Still mad, huh?” Y/N continues, leaning back on her palms. “Stop being such a baby.”

Minjeong shoots Y/N a sharp look. “I’m not being a baby! You didn’t hear what he said to me! He was completely unfair—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N interrupts again, waving her hand dismissively. “I get it. But seriously, you need to stop sulking.”

Minjeong groans, taking a long sip of the drink to keep from snapping back. They sit in silence for a few moments, with only the sounds of the city below filling the air. Slowly, Minjeong’s anger starts to ebb away, leaving her feeling tired and drained.

She sighs, leaning her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “Let’s just leave school early,” she murmurs, her voice losing its edge. “I can’t go back in there. Not today.”

Y/N glances at her, seeing the tough exterior that Minjeong usually wears so well starting to crack. For a moment, Y/N feels a pang of sympathy, but she quickly pushes it aside. Shaking her head, she tightens her grip on Minjeong’s hand.

“Nope,” Y/N says firmly. “We’re not skipping. You’re going to face this head-on.”

Minjeong whines, burying her face in Y/N’s shoulder. “But Y/N, please… I really don’t want to go back in there.”

Y/N sighs but doesn’t budge. “Stop whining. I’m not letting you run away just because you’re upset. Plus I have class too silly. We’ll go back together after you’ve calmed down.”

Minjeong pouts, her tough exterior fully crumbling as she snuggles closer to Y/N. “You’re so mean,” she mumbles, her voice muffled.

Y/N chuckles, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, with Y/N’s steady presence helping Minjeong calm down completely. Finally, Minjeong lets out a long, resigned sigh.

“Fine, you win,” she concedes, though there’s a hint of a smile in her voice now. “But if that teacher says anything else, I’m not holding back.”

Y/N grins, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Minjeong’s head. “Deal. But no more running away, okay?”

“Okay,” Minjeong agrees softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “One more lecture though and he’ll actually-“

“Nuh uh baby, just hush”, y/n cuts her off

[isak-dot-gov]

Balancing Act

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Word count: 1018

My masterlist :)

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In the world of WWE, Rhea was a powerhouse. Her presence in the ring was commanding, and her dedication to her career was unwavering. It was one of the things you admire most about her. However, lately, her focus on her work has begun to overshadow your relationship. The late nights, the constant travel, and the endless commitments were starting to take their toll, and you felt like you were being left behind.

It had been weeks since you had had a meaningful conversation with her. Every evening was spent waiting for her to come home from a gruelling schedule, only for her to arrive exhausted and barely able to stay awake. The time you did spend together was often cut short by urgent phone calls or unexpected obligations. You tried to be understanding, to support her through the demanding nature of her job, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing distance between you.

One evening, after Rhea had come home later than usual, you found yourself at your wit’s end. She walked through the door, her face drawn with fatigue, and you could see the frustration simmering just below the surface. You had been trying to keep the peace, but it was clear that you needed to address the issue before it spiralled further out of control.

“Baby, we need to talk,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tension in your chest.

Rhea looked up from where she had been shedding her gear. “Baby, can it wait? I’m really tired.”

“No, it can’t,” you replied, frustration edging into your voice. “This has been building up for a while. I feel like you’re never around anymore. You’re always working, and when you are here, you’re too exhausted to be present. It’s like I’m invisible.”

Rhea’s expression hardened, a mixture of guilt and defensiveness crossing her features. “I’m doing this for us, you know. I’m trying to build a future, make sure we have everything we need.”

“I get that, Rhea,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “But right now, it feels like your work is coming before everything else. Including me. I’m not asking for everything, just some time. I feel neglected, and it’s really starting to hurt.”

Rhea’s shoulders slumped, her eyes clouded with frustration and exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it had gotten this bad.”

“Yeah, well, it has,” you said, your emotions catching up with you. “I think we need to take a break.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Rhea’s eyes widened in shock. “A break? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart ached. “I need some space to figure out what’s going on with us. It’s not just about you being busy—it’s about priorities. I feel like I’m always on the back burner.”

Rhea’s face fell, and she took a step towards you, her eyes pleading. “Please, don’t say that. I know I’ve been distant, but I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so caught up in everything, and I didn’t realise how it was affecting you.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, your resolve wavering slightly. “But it’s been really hard for me. I need to know that our relationship matters as much as your career does. Otherwise, I don’t know how we can keep going like this.”

Rhea looked down, her shoulders trembling as she tried to hold back her tears. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the most important thing in my life. I just didn’t know how to balance everything.”

“Maybe we need to figure that out,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your words. “Maybe some time apart will help us both see things more clearly.”

Rhea reached out, taking your hand in hers, her touch almost desperate. “Please, don’t make this decision right now. Give me a chance to show you that I can make this work. I’ll find a way to balance things better. I promise.”

You looked at her, seeing the raw emotion in her eyes. “I want to believe that. I really do. But I need to see it, too. We can take some time apart, and if we can work through this, then maybe we can find our way back to each other.”

Rhea’s grip tightened on your hand, her voice breaking as she spoke. “I’m begging you. I need you to trust me. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. I don’t want us to end like this.”

The pain in her voice mirrored the ache in your chest. “It’s not about ending things,” you said softly, struggling to hold back your own tears. “It’s about figuring out how we can both be happy. We can’t keep going like this. I need to see that you’re willing to make changes, just as much as I need to find out what’s best for me.”

Rhea nodded, her face flushed with a mix of sadness and determination. “Okay. I understand. Just know that I’m going to work on this. I don’t want to lose you.”

With a heavy heart, you nodded and gave her a final, lingering look before turning to leave. As you walked away, you felt a pang of sadness, but also a glimmer of hope. Sometimes, space was needed to rediscover what truly mattered, and you hoped that this break would give you both the clarity you needed.

Rhea watched you go, her mind racing with thoughts of how to make things right. She knew she had to reevaluate her priorities and make a real effort to balance her career and her relationship. The house felt emptier as the door closed behind you, the silence a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you. As the quiet settled around her, Rhea vowed to herself that she would do whatever it took to prove that her love for you was worth fighting for, even if it meant confronting the parts of herself she had been avoiding.

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[chaotic-starlight24]

Dallas Winston Backstory Headcanons Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, General Headcanons

Here is my last part of his backstory headcanons :)

Warnings: None I think

Making it to Tulsa

Eventually he made it to Tulsa, OK at the age of 13 ¾. He had no plan to stay there very long. He had made it to the south so now he just planned to travel around. That was until he went to swipe something from a corner store. Suddenly the manager was right behind him.

“Hey buddy, ya can’t be doin that here.”

Dally just gave him a look, “I was, uh, going to pay Mr…Curtis?”

Did Darrel Curtis Sr. believe him? Nope. Not at all. But he could tell this kid was not from here. With that new yorker accent he was out of place. He saw that this kid hadn’t just moved here. He was alone and afraid no matter how tough he pretended to be. So he let him go and told his wife to look out for him in case she saw him.

Mrs. Curtis did eventually see him when he wandered into the diner and offered him a free meal. He hadn’t eaten in a couple days so he accepted, but was still very skeptical. She tried to ask him what he was doing in Tulsa, where he was from, yada yada. But he was of course very defensive. 

Eventually one of her kids named Sodapop came in with some of his friends. These guys named Two-Bit and Steve. Dally tried to steer himself away from them. But they welcomed him over and soon enough Dally found himself cracking a grin at their stupid jokes. He was still very untrusting, he expected that he would have to disappear soon anyways. But he found himself meeting more people.

Soon enough he met the rest of their “gang”. It was very different from any gang he had ever been in. Not that he included himself in their group. He found himself becoming very drawn to one of the younger boys. Johnny Cade. He saw himself in him, a young and more sensitive version. Dally found himself worried about him. If he was as sensitive as Johnny was he wouldn’t have survived. Johnny also took a shine to him and Dally found himself being followed around. He learned more about him and found out just how tough he really was.

He met Buck through rodeos and became sorta friends with him. He found out Buck had an extra room and bullied him into giving it to him. A 14 year old bullying a 21 year old is quite the sight.

He also met Tim Shephard, in a fight. They beat each other to a pulp after one pickpocketed the other. Afterwards they were like “Hey! I like your style!” They've been frenemies ever since.

He very quickly learned the greaser way from the gang and grew out his hair. But he never cared to grease it. He thought it made it off-color.

He was very close to the Mrs. Curtis and would help her out no matter what the task was. Her and her husband were what made Dally believe that maybe he could stay there. Though he would occasionally have mood swings and not want to talk to her or look at her because he saw his bio mom in her. He truly wished that his bio mom had stood up for herself and not fallen to addiction. 

He was close to Mr. Curtis as well. Not as close but he still trusted him. Mr. Curtis was also a big fan of movies and everything, especially James Dean. So sometimes they would sit on the porch and ramble a bit about him and his movies.

He sort of scared Pony and also just had some dislike for him. He would be rude to him or just flat out ignore him. Usually the gang would get onto him for it but the main reason was that he would be reminded of his own younger siblings. The ones he left behind and now didn’t even know if they were alive. One of his sisters was the exact same age as Pony as well. So Pony grew up believing Dally really was just this delinquent who hated little kids and showed little care. Which was somewhat true…

He was influenced by Shephard’s gang and other more “hood-like” greasers and though the gang didn’t like it, definitely returned to his illegal pastimes. 

[misc-obeyme]

You know what time it is.

Lesson 33 spoilers, including the hard lesson, here we go!

I am pleased. And I am not pleased.

I had so many great moments with all my faves. Solomon being there for me, Levi being a lil cutie, THIRTEEN DATE, Barbatos giving me lil Ds. What glorious moments. I shall share some screenshots momentarily.

BUT FIRST.

Belphie. What the fuck.

Technically, this is Mammon’s fault. He was the one who was like it’s not wrong to feel upset about it and like yeah he’s right, but Belphie is clearly taking that statement to an EXTREME.

We are dealing with YANDERE BELPHIE, my friends.

If I remember correctly, he was always supposed to be yandere. So now we’re really leaning into that, huh? Like straight up, I am going to keep you here forever because you’ll be happier with me than if you leave. Our boy’s gone a little off the deep end lol. I kinda love it.

Though I was really surprised by his final line of “I don’t want you to see what’s inside my head.” He seemed really concerned about it. Considering all we’ve seen already, it can’t be that bad, right? Then again, I wouldn’t want anyone I know to get inside my head, either. Please stay out, you don’t need to see the horrors, thanks.

Also, we still haven’t made a pact with Levi. Just like we didn’t actually make a pact with Beel. Is it because now they’re not sure they want to have pacts with us because of the whole needing magic to get back to the human world thing? I swear I have a memory of Solomon telling us that we could make pacts with all of the brothers at the same time. But we already have pacts with three of them? So why would we only make pacts with three or four of them at the same time? I’m so confused. Someone please share your thoughts with me on this because I don’t get it???

I really feel like they directly addressed some of the concerns we’ve all been having in this lesson, too. I mean Solomon straight up talks about wondering what the brothers we left behind are doing. Or if time is still going there or if we’ll end up exactly where we left etc etc. HOWEVER all that soup talk makes me think they are just going to mesh it all together. ‘Cause Solomon also said this:

What does that mean? How can the future brothers influence what’s happening in the past? Unless their memories are changing in real time… ugh why did they have to go with time travel shenanigans?? Don’t they know this junk hurts my brain??

Anyway, now it’s time for some of my favorite moments, enough about time travel and feelings and pacts!

Because my favorite sorcerer also said this. And I know there are some questions about his motives and blah blah but I don’t care. I love him. He’ll be all serious, then say something sweet and reassuring, then do something crazy or try to cook again… he’s got so many sides to him lol.

STOP MAKING ME LIKE YOU MEPHISTOPHELES. (Please you were like the last character I was neutral about I can’t afford to get obsessed with anyone else.)

Honestly, I laughed so hard when he said this. Mammon just called him out directly and he LAUGHED. He laughed and was like yeah duh of course, idiots. And look how pleased he is about it, too.

May I bring your attention to my baby Levi? Look at this silly guy. I was so happy I got to hug him. And the group hug was adorable, too. Satan protesting the whole time lol. Lucifer coming in and being like… I regret asking.

I swear sometimes I wanna kiss this guy JUST to watch him blush. It’s so freakin’ cute.

Smitten. I am smitten.

The way she’s like I don’t get why you like these weirdos, but I know they matter to you. Don’t worry, it’s going to work out. How she gets all defensive of MC. Her cute little smile. The way she suggests coming to visit MC in the human world & saying that Solomon can come too?! LIKE. I love her so much.

HE KNOWS.

Listen I was thrilled about this whole part - Barbatos being mysterious and giving me a weird piece of paper and a Little D? Yes forever. But also I think we’ve all suspected him of knowing the truth and this part right here just solidifies that for me. He definitely knows. He knows everything about what’s going on. I don’t think that means he’s Nightbringer or even that he’s working with Nightbringer. He could just know because he’s got access to all of time and what not. But either way, he knows.

Honestly I love Barbatos so much. Just the small parts we had with him were enough to get me in my feels. I also really enjoyed the hard lesson because even if Luke doesn’t know what’s going on, I think Simeon does. And their discussion was interesting.

So I’m gonna leave you with one last Barb moment.

I’m so impatient is it the end of the season yet?? I wanna know how it ends right NOW.

[dexjarxenoengage]

Metaphor: Refantazio is my GOTY of 2024, and is slowly becoming one of my favorite video games of all time. As per such, I’m going to be a tad bit defensive and biased towards its story beats and characters (both of the good and bad). One such arguments that I want to address is the morality of its antagonists. More specifically, Joanna, the Holy woman responsible for the kidnappings in Martina. And compare them to Zorba, Louis’s right hand man.

This post is NOT for the sake of defending the actions of both of these characters. This is post for dissecting their actions in the story, but more importantly, how the characters react to the actions of these two antagonists.

Naturally, there will be spoilers. I can’t talk about Zorba without spoiling the fact that he survives the battle at the Grand Cathedral. Zorba’s survival plays a big factor in Forden’s death, Fidelio’s death and Basilio joining the team, as well as the Prince’s death and Will becoming the Prince himself in response. These actions, as well as the fact that he is devoted to a madman who plans on turning everyone into a human monster, are the things I will be judging and analyzing in this post.

From: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/YMMV/MetaphorReFantazio

“Joanna in the Martira arc is portrayed with a degree of sympathy and is treated as such in-universe by the heroes. However, the extent of her malice, despite her tragic backstory, led many players to struggle with sharing the party's sentiments. Joanna has been feeding innocent townspeople—including children—to a monster, driven by her desperation to feel like she had regained her lost child. Her backstory is undeniably tragic: her mixed-race child was murdered by a nanny fueled by superstition and prejudice. But the sheer cruelty of her actions—sacrificing innocents ultimately for revenge—makes her difficult for many players to empathize with. While the party does not condone her crimes and instead directs their anger toward the societal forces that pushed her to such extremes, they remain strikingly kind to someone who inflicted the same tragedy she experienced upon countless others, with only Strohl really pushing back in response but ultimately viewing her the same way as everyone else in the end. Though Joanna is ultimately executed for her actions and it is heavily implied that her descent into madness was driven by Melancholia corruption—born of her regret and a sudden moment of clarity after the defeat of her "child." For some players, the level of sympathy Joanna receives can be jarring, given the scale of her atrocities. This is in complete opposition to Zorba, who — while his actions are indeed monstrous — actually deserves more sympathy.”

The reason why I make this is not questioning whether or not Joanna and Zorba deserve sympathy or not. This post is meant to be a question of why Will and the others feel the way they do to both of them. So in order to illustrate my point, I need to explain the crimes these characters commit and how this weighs on the Kingdom at large, as well as the characters themselves. Personal grudges IMO play a huge factor in this post.

- The weight of crimes

As far as crimes are concerned behind both Joanna and Zorba, we need to look at how it affects everyone involved: both the characters themselves and the kingdom.

Due to Zorba’s long term presence in the main story in comparison to Joanna, I have to talk about him first.

Zorba is responsible for using the Grand Cathedral to steal the Royal Scepter to give to Louis. Taking into account what Louis planned on doing with Royal Scepter, and why he sent Zorba to get in the first place, as well as Zorba being the only one who knew Louis’s endgame from the start, Louis’s on turning the nation into Human Monsters has been his plan from the start.

And this is without mentioning his “Day of Calamity” that he was likely planning on by Louis’s order. Zorba reanimated the Louis brought to the Royal Funeral with the intention of it destroying all of Grand Trad, and young and old people in it besides.

Why is this important? Because, to the people that say Zorba deserved more sympathy in comparison to Joanna, forget that Zorba was going to unleash an undead Human out on a city with many people in it (including the young Maria who had just lost her father, Grius).

Speaking of Grius, this adds to the list of “personal” sins on Zorba’s list. Zorba reanimated Grius (who died at Louis’s hand) to use him to attack Will, Strohl, Gallica, and soon-to-be new ally Hulkenburg. All of whom have personal connections to Grius, and all were grief-stricken and powerless to save him.

Even if Zorba did not survive the battle at the Cathedral, the dude already has a lot of blood on his hands. And this without taking into account what other sins he may have committed while under Louis’s service, we don’t know when exactly did he became devoted to Louis.

(Of course, this isn’t to say that Zorba’s reanimating powers are in and of itself sinful. But Zorba has used this power to not only attack innocent people, but use Grius to attack our heroes who were close to them. To use another character as an example, Veyle from Fire Emblem Engage has the power to revive people as Zombies, but would rather not use that power to hurt people (among other reasons). Having that power and using it to hurt people is what makes that power evil.)

Within the time we had with Zorba until he was revealed to have been alive all along, Zorba has helped attack the Cathedral to further Louis’s plans for ending the world. Has used a friend to attack his other friends. And finally, was going to send a human to destroy Grand Trad, which would have resulted in the causalities of many young and old people alike. And people expect me to believe that Zorba deserves sympathy?

Now we look at Joanna in comparison. Joanna has indeed been sending many people (especially children) to gallows that use the jaws of a baby human out of hatred towards the world for the death of her child.

Why is this important? Because the scale of crimes IMO is just important as the crime itself, maybe even more from a certain perspective. Joanna’s actions, from what we know, is locked exclusively behind Martina. The only time people that aren’t necessarily connected to Martina are the people who just happened to be unfortunate to be at the wrong place at the wrong time (as Klinger can attest to). And the only action that affects the party (outside of the fact that Strohl hates humans because of the destruction of his home, which is another personal sin on Zorba to add to the list) is Heismay, who is a recent addition. And even then, as we will get into later, Heismay can’t bring himself to truly hate Joanna.

Zorba’s actions on the other hand were clearly affecting a wide range of characters and the world of Metaphor at large through his actions; both morally and personally. For the entire party, Zorba is responsible for briefly turning the recently deceased Grius against them (who is with the person responsible for killing him). For Strohl, Zorba’s actions was going to repeat an event that has haunted him all his life, not helped by the fact that he an devote ally to the person responsible for both Halia’s destruction, and Grius’s death. For Hulkenburg, it’s also personal, outside of Grius’s reanimation, Hulkenburg sees Zorba as betrayal towards the oath of knighthood (something which is big deal for any story involving knighthood).

- The reason for said crimes and the response to it:

The thing that the people who play this game have a problem is how the party responds to these characters who have done these things. Zorba was discriminated his whole life for being Mustari/Clemar hybrid (not only are Mustari are the second most hated race in Metaphor, second only to Elda, but Hybrids are often mistreated as well, as seen with Maria’s Social Link). Not helped by the fact that many people were disgusted by his ability to reanimate (not that I blame for that). The reason for why he is so devoted to Louis is because he didn’t judge him for his race or his abilities.

Zorba is hated by the party (especially the starting party members). All of whom, during their encounter in the cathedral call him out for his hypocrisy (such as when the characters uses a portrait of Louis to get Zorba out of their way, it’s fine to disrespect the dead, but bad if Louis is insulted), but also refuses to excuse his actions just because of his suffering.

• Zorba (talking to Will): “Surely an Elda like you know what it’s like! To be an outcast, to be every fool’s scapegoat! They call us “lesser tribes”! They loathe us! Their speeches of tribal harmony mean nothing when every day, they cheat and abuse us! Do you think I didn’t believe, once? That I never dared to hope my efforts made me equal? Then I heard exactly what they think of us… “The lessers are expendable. Send them to the fore and they shall be our living shields” They doomed us and laughed as we died.

• Hulkenburg: “But these atrocities make you no better than your oppressors!”

We move on to Joanna, who lost her child (who was also a hybrid and illegitimate child) to the nurse who was sent to look after her child. All the while, even her family was glad the half blooded child died. And finally, her husband was ratted off of Martina, leaving her alone. Let’s see how the characters react to her story in the midsts of her heinous crimes…

• Strohl (who, along with the others, have witnessed Homo Jaluzo devour Morris (he deserved it): “This is your child? It just devoured a man! All I see is a mindless monster!”

• Joanna (who is enraged by this response to her “child.”): And a monster is all I see…when I upon the world! People are beasts of fear and superstition. Murderers without remorse. I have done nothing they’ve not done to me. Abominations… They are the unnatural. They deserve to die. They should all be so glad to nourish my child. My dear… sweet… child.

• Hulkenburg: A mother’s love should nurture. But this is beyond the pale…

• Strohl: And you? Do you not condemn her? She kidnapped children, murdered them in cold blood, and would see you blamed for it!

• Heismay: In truth… I know this woman’s pain, all too well. In the name of her child, she was willing to turn against the entire world. Behind her atrocities… I see the devotion of a bereaved parent. You found yourself unjustly in a terrible darkness… and I struggle to blame you. Burying your own child is unbearable. Grief and madness fill the gaps where love had been. But my eyes were opened. These people helped me see. The only way to beat the darkness… is to confront it! Step by meagre step… You must walk back to our reality! Look upon that… And see true that it is not the child you once loved!

The main difference between Joanna and Zorba’s actions and parts in the story is how the characters react to them. Strohl, as the Human Slayer is naturally appalled by Joanna’s actions and the human himself, and ask for Heismay’s response to this. Heismay, who was also a victim of the death of a child in a world filled with discrimination. Heismay calmly understands why Joanna would take the path she did while still making it clear that what she’s doing is wrong and she needs to face reality and accept her child’s death.

Heismay knows full well that, in another world, Heismay could have been the kidnapper everyone deemed him to be. I think that’s why Heismay doesn’t fully condemned Joanna to the extent that could (and perhaps, should) have.

- The aftermath of crime

Another crucial factor in how Zorba and Joanna are treated by the characters in the story is the aftermath of their respective defeats. Zorba outright ignores Hulkenburg’s point of calling out Zorba for his actions. Joanna, on the other hand, comes to see the error of her ways. In fact, IMO, this is the most important aspect about this discussion. Joanna admits her wrongs and makes the choice to atone, Zorba did not.

After Joanna is defeated, she makes good on her initial promise to give Martina’s support to the Prince if Will and the others succeeded in solving the case. By offering up her head for the Exhibition for the Brave… As well as clearing Heismay’s name.

While we are on this topic, the reason for why the party are even in Martira to begin with. They wanted to turn in a criminal for the Tournament for the Throne in order to gain the political support needed to get Louis’s attention so that the team can find a way to break the curse over the Prince. So accepting Joanna’s atonement is the right thing to do from a mission/political standpoint, not just a moral standpoint.

And another thing, the fact Joanna kept her word. If Joanna wanted to, as Strohl pointed out, she could use this chance to escape and continue to cause trouble elsewhere. But Joanna stood true to the promise she made to the very end. And thanks to this action of choosing to trust Joanna’s word, the party is one step closer to defeating Louis.

Joanna vs Zorba

• Will: The rumours painted Heismay as a criminal, but I chose to believe in him. I want to extend Joanna the same grace. A country where no one’s future is written in stone… If that’s our goal, then this is a chance we have to take.

Gallica may think Will is too kind here, which is probably what most of the fandom on this moment may think, but just remember that Will was going to kill Louis to break the curse. He’s not as soft as Gallica (or the audience) may think.

- Sympathy (or lack thereof) for the wicked:

I have seen the Martira Arc plenty of times, along with Joanna’s execution, and I wouldn’t say the party was overtly sympathetic towards Joanna like people think. The only person who was the closest to that point is Heismay and Will. Strohl only is more lenient with Joanna because she made the choice to repent (and again, she kept her word when should could’ve gone against it).

And again, thanks to this choice to atone, the Prince is one step closer in being king and defeating Louis.

Now again, we go back to Zorba, who had been revealed to be alive all along, helping Louis’ goals in the shadows, during which, he has transformed his body into a Human. What does Zorba do not long after he is hinted to be alive? Continue to help Louis’s plan, ensuring that Forden dies (not that he didn’t have it coming). When Louis is about to kill a Church family in order to get the party to come clean about the Prince’s survival, he causally watches and mocks Fidelio’s death.

Afterwards, Zorba is directly responsible for the death of the original Prince, and had Will given up and not accepted being the Prince’s Archetype, this act would given Louis the final victory. On top of that, there was another corpse found prior to the reveal of the Prince’s death.

Again, this is why I can’t agree with the people that say Zorba deserved more sympathy. When you think about it, not only does Zorba’s actions affect them personally alongside the entire Kingdom, but Zorba lasted longer than Joanna for his actions to affect the story itself. I’m not saying that the characters shouldn’t have tried to make some effort to get him to understand what he was doing was wrong, like with Joanna, but you can tell how much his actions affected them.

And it’s not to say that the others don’t sympathize with him to some extent, once we get to his final fight, the others are horrified to see his human-mutated hand. And after the fight, Basilio (last party member, and also knew him from their time with Louis) understood Zorba and showed no anger towards him. And once Zorba does die by his own hand, which the boys did try to save him, the others sadly noted that he chosen his path. Even at the end, when the characters do try to understand him, unlike Joanna, he was beyond saving. Or rather, he didn’t want to be saved by anyone who wasn’t named Louis. Hulkenburg, in comparison to their battle at the Cathedral, does commend Zorba for his loyalty, even if it was towards a madman.

To the people that say that Zorba deserved more sympathy, did Zorba himself made an effort to understand what he did was wrong like Joanna did? No. Was there any implications that Zorba was being manipulated by Melancholia? Given that he showed no signs of calming down or changing his mindset after being beaten TWICE, I would say no.

This whole section may seem like a contradiction of us questioning the sympathy level of these two characters. Again, let me remind you, this was a question on the morality of the characters themselves. Every party member may be flawed people who also have anxiety in their hearts, but remember that they gained their Archetypes by learning to channel those feelings in a healthy manner.

All of them do have a strong sense of justice, if handled differently for each character. And it’s not like having a personal reason for standing against evil is bad thing, considering that’s the reason Strohl awakened to his Archetype in the first place.

You can question the characters all you want, everyone will have different answers compared to mine. But Strohl and the others only showed grace to Joanna because she chose to atone for her sins, whereas Zorba did not. These characters are about fairness, and IMO, they did well on that front.

[tatumsversion13]

possible TW abuse, necrophilia, pro shipping

please read // accusation of being pro ship and engaging with necro fanfiction

I just came across this and I feel like I need to adress some things.

first of all, I DO NOT condone any glamorization of abuse or necrophilia and it upsets me that some people might think otherwise. I’ve created this account two weeks ago to try and connect with others who enjoy Scream just as much as I do but also as a form to inspire myself through fanfic, fanart, etc. When I’m outside or busy, I tend to mass like posts without further checking the tags or what they’re really about (which is probably not the brightest idea) so I can come back and read them later on. Apparently I’ve liked a fic that contained necrophilia. I was not aware that I had liked it but I’m glad someone brought it to my attention! It was 100% unintentional and I am not interested in reading stuff like that. I should’ve known better and double check before liking posts but I never realised it could be a bad idea because I honestly trusted my algorithm to not show me that kind of content. I didn’t even know people were writing about stuff like that. I understand the confusion but it was definitely not intentional. I apologise for any harm of confusion that may have caused.

pro shipping :

Assuming anon defines pro shipping as a person being okay with the shipping of different fictional characters whether they’re canon or not: honestly I don’t really understand the issue with this. Since when is pro shipping a bad thing? I mean the main reason this blog exists is because of a ship..? I only reblog stuff about stu x billy since that’s the only ship I care about regarding Scream (not including gale and dewey i mean they’re cute but idrc). After all those are FICTIONAL characters?? Most of the people I follow are stuilly shippers and the actors themselves openly talk about shipping their own characters? Besides, why would I care if people have other ships, as long as none if it glorifies things like pedophilia and/or abuse (and no, no matter how toxic, in my opinion and from the fanfics I’ve read so far, Stu and Billy’s relationship does not glorify abuse since all of their intimate acts are consensual).

If you consider pro shipping as shipping without limits (ignoring, condoning or glamorizing abuse, pedophila, necrophilia etc. that’s definitely NOT something I would EVER read or approve.

For the rest, I could care less about other people’s interests in fan FICTION (again, as long as they don’t contain any if the things I just mentioned). Feel free to correct me if I forgot something.

misogyny :

I made a post joking about how I don’t like Sidney in Scream 1/still hold a grudge against her. Not liking a character in a fictional movie does not make me misogynistic and I can’t believe I have to explain that. I absolutely adore Sidney’s character throughout the Scream franchise but I have no problem admitting that I did not like her in Scream 1996 for the simple fact that she killed my favourite characters (and she was just annoying). I know she had to defend herself and it’s a movie. Not liking a fictional character is never that deep and it doesn’t have anything to do with Neve.

Anyways, this is not what I expected to see when I came on here and I’m sorry if this sounds a bit defensive, i’m just tired of people acting like they know anything about others without confronting the person first but I am glad I’ve been made aware and I’ll pay attention to the content I engage with in the future! I hope this cleared things up and I’m sorry again.

P.S. If you have any issues with me regarding something I’ve said or engaged with, I would prefer if you dmed me so we can talk about it personally. Thank you for reading!

[pronounmelon]

How Leasebound suffers under the ablebodied gaze

Hiiiii I’m on my bullshit again 😘❤️

today we are going to talk about how Leasebound’s disability rep is kind of mid

we all know how I feel about the special ed teacher panel

and BONUS: this is Sunny’s insert. Sunny has never worked with disabled kids. RUSTY has never worked with disabled kids, and neither are disabled to my knowledge. I am disabled AND have worked with disabled kids. I still think that panel is complete bullshit, with the lack of knowledge on the topic showing through in the implication that there is ever an instance outside of imminent harm to yourself or others that you need to restrain a disabled child even if my old post may have admittedly overreacted. There is not. There is never an instance outside of imminent harm to yourself or others. If your special education facility has told you that restraint is an option at all when a kid hugs you too long, get a new fucking job 😭 the next alternative to a “let me go” or a collapse or drop move you weren’t taught somehow is never to “hm. If I don’t go to self defense training my only other option is to restrain them”

anyway to the guys I wanna talk about here

now let’s list off disabled characters

Shanzay (it’s not spelled Shanzey in any language Rusty should probably correct that)

Rocky

Uhhhhhhh

Ginger is most definitely disabled given the knee injury but that was most definitely added to give her a stereotypical middle aged “man” backstory of wanting to play professional football and then getting injured and it doesn’t even really come up on panel. Plus the trans women in the comic are. Well. We all know 😭😭

and I am of the personal opinion that Brick has some form of dwarfism or potentially Down syndrome due to how Rusty draws them (height, proportions, and facial features) but this was not done intentionally by Rusty and seems to have mostly been an attempt to make them look “clownish” which is a whole other set of issues. Like I thought Parniya was supposed to teach your grown adult fanbase not to make fun of people for their height or weight but your commentors say otherwise when it comes to Brick sooooo

anyway the only ones I can definitively say are disabled are Shanzay and Rocky

so so far the only 2 characters who are definitively disabled both got it from some big showey traumatic event, not looking good so far seeing as that’s a pretty common stereotype…

Shanzay has partial blindness, seemingly caused by blunt force trauma

Now I can’t believe I have to say this but…

regardless of how you are drawing this REALLY does not communicate a blunt force eye injury

fun fact: I’m not going to show a picture because HOLY SHIT the pictures are horrible but a healed blunt force eye injury (one that WOULD cause permanent full blindness in the eye) usually includes

partially or fully detached retina

reddish sclera for obvious reasons, it gets better overtime but it rarely fully goes away

usually rather than a perfectly vertical scar with stitches there is a bruise or a scar that isn’t. Yk. Perfectly vertical over the whole eye. Often a scar would be something like a deeper one over the eyelid, or uneven tiny scar bits around the eye. While we don’t see what Chris does to Shanzay exactly, if he hit her with what he had at the moment (his fist), she more than likely got a hugeass bruise with no permanent scar outside the eye, maybe a tear in the eyelid itself if we give Chris the disbenefit of the doubt that his single fist is that strong, or that he got multiple hits in. I mean he sells drugs or whatever so maybe??? I’m gonna be for real I doubt this guy’s mary sue ass strength he looks under half my dad’s weight

Bonus that shit is probably HORRIFIC if the injury wasn’t super bad then because it doesn’t seem like she was taken to the doctors

Better ways to stylize this sort of injury on Shez:

partially detached retina, rough healing

Retina removed surgically due to extreme injury or infection after injury, probably healed better due to medical intervention. Would likely wear an eye cap or glass eye cover to protect the eye

Traumatic cataract (what I think Rusty was going for??). Despite all the models you’ve probably seen or whatever the fuck a traumatic cataract is rarely completely perfect over the eye, and often the original eye color is slightly visible underneath. I specifically made this one partial, giving an easily stylizable but accurate look.

“why is this a problem?? Other media does this all the time”

yeah and I kinda hate it 😭😭 it’s one thing if all your characters have dot eyes, like just put an x there BOOM eye disability communicated. Also, Shez is never shown to have the same or similar disability needs to most people who are partially blind or blind in one eye. The large majority of people with full blindness in one eye cannot drive very easily, first of all. One, in most countries you need to pass a medical test. Also, if Shez’s injury is in fact a traumatic cataract, driving is either an incredibly difficult/stressful task, or just straight up unsafe, seeing as the areas of an eye a cataract falls over only allow for very limited vision.

Like bestie you CANNOT be looking back at Jaden like that regardless of potentially training yourself to drive?? Which even then you’re apparently driving at 3am or so??? It’s DARK AS HELL at 3am fuck off there’s no way

now I’m not partially blind or blind myself so people can absolutely correct me on this (blind people, not people with a totally super real blind cousin or something, I’m not centering ablebodied people here)

Shez seemingly has no trauma from her injury specifically. Only her mother is affected by it. Honestly that’s a lot of the Chris plot line; Shez only wants to save the people around her and that’s apparently good cause “power fantasy” like??? I thought this was supposed to be a comic about realistic women experiences or whatever the fuck.

Oh yeah and why is this panel kind of implying that Shez got her injury on the job when she got it from Chris 😭😭 I guess the rest fits but “this is a rough job” with the weird closeup of her eye 😭😭 bitch what does that MEAN Chris did not injure you at Yonique

okay next one

I have BEEF with this woman ‼️‼️‼️

Whoever decided they weren’t gonna at least teach Rocky sign language is a fucking idiot. Why is she communicating with the same *nod* *nod* she did when her muteness was new at 22 years old. Someone teach Rocky sign language!! ”you can’t expect rusty to learn accurate sign language just for Rocky” then I can’t expect her to respectfully write a mute character without falling into dumbass stereotypes

I do understand why Rocky wouldn’t have an AAC device… I mean, this is 5 (now 6 with Parniya!!) people living in one tiny living space in a city that has a huge classism problem, it’d be very difficult to get their hands on something like that. But. A text to speech tablet?? Like just an iPad?? Maybe??? There’s also AAC-like apps for both Samsung and Android. Rusty invents shit that doesn’t exist all the time!! (Like a plain white simultaneously loose and tight around the boobs turtleneck with plain black text that says yaoi. Looking at Kai) she could just invent an AAC app for Rocky to use that functions exactly like the expensive ones but free and on a standard off brand tablet!! PLEASE it’s giving Teardrop bfb but worse than that because Teardrop was 1. Originally written by children on YouTube 2. Eventually DID get means of autonomy and communication and most people understand and respect her. Rocky only gets nods. How is she getting a job with nods??? Interviews are unfortunately way more complicated than yes or no questions.

now my final issue, applying to both Rocky and Shanzay, which I briefly hinted to earlier

Their disabilities are BOTH from big life altering injuries or PTSD. Which can happen!! That’s fine, but it’s also the most stereotypical form of these disabilities. It’s the one in media most palatable to ablebodied people. Like the little disabled representation coming in the form of wheelchair users who cannot walk at all (often paralysis) or supergeniuses if it’s caused by anything else, or people who so tragically lost an arm, or an eye, or their hearing, or sight in a war, or a fight, or whatever, a mute person who does not communicate in any of the numerous ways that mute people do because the ablebodied writer does not believe they can. Like, you know that dialects of sign language have formed for mute or deaf kids from observation, right?? Even if Meriam didn’t teach her fucking kid to sign or get her in a learning environment where she could learn to, Rocky most definitely knows more than nod and shake, ESPECIALLY as a mute adult.

all the disabled characters are written in the most palatable way they can be to an ablebodied audience, by an ablebodied writer.

Easy fix: GET SENSITIVITY READERS OR DO PROPER RESEARCH BEFORE WRITING SOMETHING YOUVE NEVER TOUCHED JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

[hannahssimblr]

I spend three hours wandering around the estate looking for Goose. I've checked every front garden, every hedge and flower bed and under every car, looked inside bins and up trees by the time I'm forced to contend with the fact that I haven't confronted the railroad tracks yet. I don't. I never pluck up the courage.

I can’t fathom it, being the one to find him there, sweet Goose with his little kitten paws and soft pewter fur. This thought that I hadn’t even considered until Michelle spat it at me is tormenting me now as I forlornly wander the evening streets, calling out the name that I’m not even sure he knows to answer to yet. 

I stumble upon Jen in a little park we used to drink in when we were fourteen. She’s been out looking too, evidently, but has had enough and is sitting on the ground gazing out over the last russet streaks of sunset over Dublin Bay. 

“Have you given up?” I ask her. Her eyes are clouded with sadness 

“I have a feeling he’s gone, Jude,” she says. I feel a lump forming in my throat. “He mightn’t be. He might come back, you know, cats are known to show up after being away for days, weeks, months even,” this is the sort of bargaining a person who refuses to accept the obvious truth gets too involved with, and the kind I’ve been doing with myself the whole afternoon, thinking that maybe if I imagine Goose’s return with enough conviction I will magic him home again, but Jen, for once does not match my idealism.

“He probably doesn’t know where his home is yet, he’s too new.”

“Yeah,” I shift some loose gravel with the toe of my shoe. “Jen, I feel so awful.”

“I know,” she says, and holds her arms out to me to pull me to the ground and wrap them around me, “It isn’t your fault, it could have happened to any of us.”

“I ruined the entire day with my stupidity.”

“Shh, stop,” gently fingers stroke my hair at the nape of my neck, “you just made a mistake, it’s human.”

“Did I ruin your date?”

She pauses, “It’s okay, I don’t think she realised it was a date, and it's probably for the best.” 

The wind rustles through the trees around the park, and I feel chilled with the knowledge that change is coming. The school year is ending soon and now the future lies unavoidably ahead of me, a path completely untrodden. 

“You’ll find someone else to take to the debs,” I tell Jen, peering at the side of her face as her short crop of chestnut hair is backlit by the sunset. “You should have been the first person to get a date anyway.”

She gives me a half smile, unconvinced, “there are like, four lesbians in our year including me.”

“Out lesbians,” I point out, “You never know.”

“When I go to college it will be better,” she says firmly, “school is just destined to be shit, romantically, I mean.”

“In all ways, I think.”

She just laughs. 

“This stuff is bullshit anyway.”

“What is? Love?”

I rub my arms where goosebumps are rising with the cold. I should have worn a jumper. “Yeah, you’re not missing out on much.”

A silence follows, one that feels deliberate, but I venture into it anyway, “Michelle and I had a bad fight earlier.”

“I heard.”

“Us shouting?”

“Mm.”

“Sorry.” I wipe my nose which is running from the cold with the back of my arm. “It was terrible, we both said awful things.”

She just circles her hand on my knee in a vague gesture of comfort.  

“Sometimes it feels like she’s trying to hurt me, you know what I mean? It’s like she has all of this bad stuff stored up that she wants to, like, unleash. It’s so vicious. It seems like she really wants to dig her nails in and leave a mark on me, and then I get so defensive, like, because talking it out doesn’t work, I have to shout, and I have to be horrible too so that she’ll even react to me.”

“We all say things we regret when we’re upset.”

“Yeah, but it’s so destructive. I come away from it all feeling like shit. Like, this isn't who I am, I’m not a person who fights. At least I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be up there saying these things to her, but I can’t stand there and let her say them to me either.”

“Yeah.”

“And I worry a lot about what things are going to look like after this year is over, like, with college and stuff,” even mentioning it makes my stomach feel tight, “like, um, how she wants us to live together and all.”

“And you’re nervous about that?”

I sigh, “Well, I don’t know, it makes sense to do it, right? She thought we could get a little place near NCAD, and we’ve been looking at houses online, and… I don’t know. The idea of being around her all of the time, like, twenty-four-seven, sharing a bed, eating every meal together, walking to college, it makes me feel claustrophobic, and then I worry that if I feel that way now, how am I going to feel when I’m actually doing it? Surely it’s not supposed to feel so terrible, right?” I prompt her when she doesn’t respond, “Jen? What do you think?”

She pauses for a long moment, toying with the aglets on the end of her boot laces. “I think that you’re asking me for an opinion I’m not prepared to give you.”

“...right.”

“We agreed, I agreed with you both that I’d never talk to one about the other. It’s not fair on me and I don’t want to feel stuck in the middle of it.”

“But-”

“You’re both nice people and I love you both so much, but when you are together you are absolutely horrible. That’s all I want to say.”

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't, I just sit in bad feelings and wish for the millionth time that my brain was normal enough to make good choices on its own and not beg them from other people.

I sniff again, though this time I’m not sure if it’s just because of the cold. “So, um, the acceptance deadline for those other colleges is coming up.” 

“The foreign ones?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still going to turn them down?”

“I promised Michelle that I would.” 

Jen’s shoulders slump, all of her does, like someone has let the air out of her, but she just says, “Alright.”

I feel the teeth of my genuine desperation for her opinion, her approval gnawing at me. I just want the sage words of advice she’s withholding from me, “Is it a mistake? Like, if I reject their offers? Would that be the stupidest thing I ever did?”

“I don’t know.”

“I worked hard, you know? I really put everything I had into those applications, I gave them the best that I had and they loved it, they said really nice things about me in the letters, and sometimes, like, I think I’ll die, or something, if I don’t leave Dublin. But then there’s Michelle,” I fist the front of my hair in my hand, “and the things at home, and I don’t know what the right thing is, whether it’s hurting myself or hurting everyone else…”

“Jude,” Jen suddenly grabs hold of my face and forces me to look into her eyes, “you have to do what feels right, okay? I’m not going to tell you what to do. Like, just… you need to fucking search within or whatever.”

“Uh huh. What does that entail?” 

“I dunno!” She lets me go and stands up, brushing dirt from the back of her jeans, “C’mon, it’s cold, we should go home.”

“Uh, I was kind of hoping you’d be able to solve me, actually.”

“No, this time you can solve yourself. C’mon, up!” She presents her hand to me and I let her haul me onto my feet. 

“Ugh, Jen,” I say, feeling myself sinking back into a melancholy hole again, but she links my arms and brusquely walks me toward the playground gates with all the pep of a middle aged Sunday morning power walker. “You know what? I think we could both do with something nice to make us feel better.”

“What do you mean ‘something nice’?

“Like, I dunno, an ice cream or something.”

“What time is it? It must be after nine.”

“Yeah, so? I was thinking of that place with all the weird flavours, do you remember that?”

“Yeah, but it’s all the way in town. Effort.”

“You can drive, can’t you?”

“You want me to drive? Jen I hate driving.”

“I think you’ll do it for me.”

“Why’d you think that?”

She eyes me sideways, “After what you put me through today, hm?”

“That's manipulation.”

“No, it's payback.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the car.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Come on, before I change my mind.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[hxney-lemcn]

Oopsie — Peter Maximoff x gn! reader

summary: Peter found your fanfic (idk how else to summarize this 💀)

tw: descriptions of panic (possibly panic attack?)

a/n: idk how I feel about this one.

wc: 1.1k

Master List

“Give that back, Peter!” I shouted, standing on my tippy toes trying to reach the notebook he held over his head.

“Why do ya want it back so badly, huh?” Peter asked with a smirk. “What are you writing about?”

I don’t think my heart has ever beat as fast as it is now. I could feel my blood rush as panic coursed through me. No, I didn’t use it as a diary or anything…or maybe I was in a convoluted way? When I felt down or needed to vent, I would write scenarios with my favorite characters. The thought of anyone, especially Peter finding out made me want to change my identity and leave the country. He would never let me live it down and some of those stories were extremely personal to me. 

Panic continued to clench at my heart as Peter opened the notebook, still holding it above his head. Pure desperation took hold of me as I jumped, using his shoulders to propel me higher. 

“Whoa there,” Peter laughed, zipping away to the other side of the room. “You really don’t want me reading this. It can’t be that bad.”

“Peter, please,” I begged, trying to stop my voice cracking from the tears that threatened to fall. His smile fell and he looked at me with furrowed brows. Either he read some of it using his super powers to give him more time or he felt guilty due to how desperate I seemed, but I didn’t want to find out. So as a last ditch attempt, I shot a beam of darkness at the notebook, disappearing into the shadows only to reappear in my hands. Before Peter could utter a word I disappeared into the shadows, only to reappear in Jean's room. 

Jean gasped in surprise. I typically didn’t use my powers that often. I wasn’t a part of the X-Men, but I was friends with Jean ever since I first attended the school, which meant I was basically a part of their group. Having the powers of umbrakinesis, at the beginning wasn’t so special. I could manipulate shadows. Didn’t seem like much. Until Professor Xaviar taught me about my true potential. I could travel through shadows, and even manifest the dark particles into a physical form. It was a good defense, creating weapons made out of dark particles, but I wasn’t the fighting type. So I never really used my powers. There was no need to.

So when I not only traveled to Jean through shadows, but also had the most panic stricken face, she led me to her bed. Her work was left forgotten on her desk. 

“Hey, hey it's okay,” She cooed. “You’re safe here.” Jean rubbed my back as she sat next to me. 

I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I felt so silly getting worked up over such things, but at the same time it was something deeply personal…and embarrassing. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Jean asked. I bit my lip, contemplating if I could stomach saying it out loud or letting her just read my thoughts.

“Could you just…look?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t rude too. 

She nodded, a gentle look in her eyes. I trusted her with the knowledge of the contents of my notebook. Especially when she’ll see how important it is to me. A scowl took over her face after a minute.

“That idiot,” She huffed.

Even after what just happened, I couldn’t help but vouch for Peter, “He didn’t know…”

“You’re letting your crush on him talk,” She rolled her eyes. 

I felt myself warm at such a blatant accusation of my feelings. She wasn’t completely wrong. I was smitten over the silver haired mutant. I found his dorkiness charming, and he just had the cutest smile. He made it so easy to be friends with him, including me in everything, and not to mention his casual affection. An arm around my shoulders here, ruffling my hair there. It was something I wasn’t used to. Yeah Jean would include me in stuff as well, but her affection was more reserved. 

And yes, Peter can be annoying. Prime example would be his incessant talking. He could talk about anything and everything, yet not say a thing of substance. Which I personally didn’t mind, but Jean and Scott found it grating from time to time. 

“I’m just scared he’s gonna think I’m weird now,” I finally confessed. “I mean…it is weird, but…”

“It's not weird,” Jean consoled. “We all have our hobbies, and yours helps you emotionally.”

I fiddled with the notebook pages, “I guess.”

Suddenly, an urgent knocking sounded through the room, followed by Peter’s voice, “Jean! I think I seriously messed up!”

Once more, a frown found its way onto Jean's lips before she sent me a concerned look. She shuffled me into her bathroom, ‘I think you should hear what he’s gonna say.’ I nodded anxiously, staring at the white tiles as she closed the bathroom door. I sat on the toilet seat as I heard Jean open her door.

“What’d you do this time, Maximoff?” She asked.

I could practically hear the nerves in Peter’s voice as he replied, “I-I swear I didn’t know it was such a big deal. I thought we were messin’ around like usual, but then they started to really freak out. I thought it was just some work stuff…but I read some of it, and I won’t say what it was, but I realized I definitely shouldn’t have read it and now I can’t find ‘em.”

“Slow down Peter,” Jean sighed. 

“I can’t!” Peter’s voice broke. “The look they gave me before they left…I can’t get it outta my head. I gotta apologize, but I’m no good at those.” He let out a frustrated groan before finishing, “I always ruin stuff.”

It was silent for a few seconds before Jean finally spoke, “I’ll give you guys some time to talk it out.”

“Wha?” 

The bathroom door opened on its own and I slowly peaked my head out. Peter stared at me with those big puppy dog eyes that melted my heart and I watched as Jean left her own room. I felt a bit bad that our drama made her leave her own room, but was side tracked as Peter started apologizing rapidly.

“I’m so sorry (y/n),” He said. “I-I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m such an idiot.” He brushed his hand through his hair tensely. 

I let out a quiet sigh, “It's okay.”

“It’s not!” Peter refuted. “That was your personal info!”

I bit my lip, “I mean yeah…but I forgive you. As long as you never speak to another soul of what you read.”

“Read what?” He asked with fake cluelessness. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

A bright grin fell onto my face, happy that he didn’t seem to be judging me.

“But…y’know, just for the record, if you wanna cuddle…” He opened his arms like he was gonna go in for a hug. “I’m always open.”

I rolled my eyes, but failed to hide my amused grin, “Whatever Quickie.”

[thevioletcaptain]

🩲😳🫦

Dean’s not staring. He’s definitely not staring.

He’s so consciously and deliberately not staring that he sinks down a little lower in the driver’s seat of the Impala, just in case Cas happens to glance over and see him from where he’s standing like some kind of calendar model on the opposite side of the Smith Center Public Swimming Pool.

Not because he thinks he’s doing anything wrong, though. Cas is hot, and Dean knows that Cas is hot. He's long past having a crisis about the fact that he wants the guy. But he's off limits. He can't quite remember why he'd decided that he was off limits, but he's sure he had a good reason for it.

So he's not staring. And he's not hiding, either.

It's just that Dean doesn’t want Cas to see his face through the windshield, all distorted by the glare of the summer sun, and mistakenly think that he is staring.

Because he’s not.

But. Well. It’s kind of hard not to look, is the thing.

And looking isn’t staring. It’s just — seeing. With his eyes. Which he kind of can’t help but do. And is that a crime? Is it a crime to see?

Anyway, Cas is the one who decided to buy himself a neon green Speedo for the adult swimming lessons he’s insisted on taking now that he’s human again, and it’s hardly Dean’s fault if his eye is naturally drawn to bright colors.

That’s just… evolution. He thinks he read that somewhere, once. Survival instincts, ingrained over countless generations and hardwired into his monkey brain, so that he won’t accidentally put poisonous tree frogs in his mouth or whatever.

Not that he's letting his monkey brain take control right now. Not that he’s thinking of putting his mouth anywhere near Cas’ —

“You can’t park here.”

He jumps, his forearm pressing hard into the horn, and half a dozen people — Cas included — all turn to stare at him from the poolside.

Now they're staring. Not just looking. Definitely staring. Dean knows the difference.

Cas lifts his hand and waves.

It’s probably Dean’s imagination, given the distance, but he’s pretty sure he can see a bead of water — maybe sweat — trickling down his side. It starts near his armpit. Trails down over his ribs.

As Dean watches — looks, really, just happens to see — Cas pushes his fingers through his hair, and shakes his head, and an arc of droplets sparkles through the air around him before he drops his hand back down and wipes it off on his thigh. And now his thigh is wet again.

Who gave him the right to fucking glisten like that? Who the hell does he think he is?

“Sir?”

Dragging his eyes away from Cas, Dean glances up at the woman ducking down to peer in at him through his open window. She’s wearing a navy blue polo with the pool’s logo, and she’s missed a spot with her sunscreen, so there’s an oddly shaped patch of red in the middle of her forehead. The pinched-mouth expression on her face suggests that perhaps she's spoken to him more times than he’d noticed. He shakes his head a little.

“Huh, sorry, what?”

“You can’t park here,” she says, tone harsher than before, and points up at the staff only sign he’d missed when he arrived.

In his defense, the sign is kind of dull, and decidedly not brightly colored, and by the time he’d been pulling into the space, he’d already been kind of distracted by Cas and his glow-in-the-dark-and-the-daytime-too crotch.

Some part of him — the monkey brain, probably — desperately wants his eyes to flick back over toward the pool to see if Cas has decided to do any more post-swim stretching. He valiantly fights it. The effort uses enough brain power that he barely remembers that he's probably supposed to respond to the woman talking to him.

“Oh,” he says, finally.

She waits. Raises her brow. He figures he should say more.

“I’m not actually— I’m not staying. I’m just here to pick someone up. I mean, heh, that sounded wrong. I’m not trying to pick someone up, like, trying to score. I’m just here to pick up a guy. My friend. In my car. To drive him home.”

The woman’s eyes narrow a little, and she half opens her mouth like she’s not quite sure how to respond to his rambling but fully intends to, but before she can get a word out Cas is there, pulling open the passenger door. The hinges creak.

The scent of chlorine and sunscreen and Cas floods Dean's senses.

He glances over, no longer able to force himself not to, and has to bite down on his own lip to keep from letting out a deeply embarrassing noise when he finds him spreading his towel out on the seat so he can sit down, still wearing his Speedo. He drops the string bag with his change of clothes into the footwell and grins at Dean as he climbs inside.

"Don't worry, I won't get your car wet," he says.

Dean's brain is making a strange buzzing sound.

"Uhuh," he says.

“Sir,” the woman cuts in again.

Dean doesn’t even look at her, this time. Just waves a hand in the air and starts the engine as Cas buckles in. Pulls the seatbelt taut across his lap.

"You need to move."

"Yeah, we're going," Dean says.

“See you next week, Doreen,” Cas tells her cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Dean says, but his eyes don’t leave Cas. Maybe he is staring, just a little. “Maybe I’ll come, too.” [written for this prompt game] [find me on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mary L. Trump at The Good in Us:

Like most Americans, I too want the national temperature to be lowered. I want to see the violent rhetoric to stop. And I want to see our nation unified. But the other side seems to be saying that, in order for that to happen, we’re not allowed to talk about Donal'd’s record of lawlessness, cruelty, and incompetence and we must make concessions to the would-be dictator. On Monday, while Republicans tried to shame their critics into silence by making false and increasingly incendiary claims that it was Democrats who are responsible for creating the context in which Saturday’s shooting took place, we were reminded just how dangerous things will get if Donald wins this election. Today, Aileen Cannon, Donald’s personal pocket judge, took the shocking (but not surprising) and illogical step of dismissing the charges against my uncle. Her behavior since acquiring this case has been abysmal and partisan; she has frequently skated across the line of malpractice. Her repeatedly putting her thumb on the scale in favor of the defense (who am I kidding?—she acted like she was lead counsel for the defense) felt even worse, because we know Donald is guilty. We know he stole our national security documents; we know held them in non-secure locations; and we know he refused to return them. We know these things because we witnessed Donald commit the crimes—and he confessed to them over and over again.

There is no way to interpret Cannon’s decision other than as a political favor from a corrupt judge who, along with the illegitimate super-majority of the Supreme Court (especially Clarence Thomas) is determined to put Donald above the law.

[...]

What happened at Donald’s rally in Pennsylvania on Saturday was deeply wrong and un-American. The same can be said of his plans for this country if he’s put in the Oval Office again. We can’t be quiet. We can’t let the side that continues to traffic in violent political rhetoric blame us shame us or scare us into silence. We must continue to sound the warnings—there will be no pivoting to unity and peace. There will only be Donald and his sycophants and enablers being exactly what we have known them to be. This morning, while pundits and columnists were, once again, falling for the promise to pivot to unity, Donald simply couldn’t help himself. In response to Cannon’s horrifying ruling, he called for the “dismissal of ALL the Witch Hunts—the January 6th Hoax in Washington, D.C., the Manhattan D.A.’s Zombie Case, the New York A.G. Scam, Fake Claims about a woman I never met (a decades old photo in a line with her then husband does not count), and the Georgia ‘Perfect’ Phone Call charges.” 

[...] Not long after Cannon’s corrupt gift to him, Donald announced the selection of Ohio Senator J.D. Vance as his running mate. If his goal was to pick a hypocritical bully and revanchist sycophant, he could not have made a better choice. Clearly, Vance thinks he’s immune to the kind of consequences suffered by Donald’s former Vice President—you know, the guy who almost got hanged by Donald’s mob—but I’d still suggest that Vance watch his back. Vance is stronger than Pence when it comes to pursuing his own interests, but he’s as transactional as Donald. Pence has very few principles, but on one important days, he had least one when it really counted. Despite the enormous amount of pressure that was brought to bear on him, he showed up to do his job on January 6th. Vance will have no such compunction. If you have any doubts about that, consider his comments to George Stephanopoulos:

“If I had been vice president, I would have told the states, like Pennsylvania, Georgia and so many others, that we needed to have multiple slates of electors, and I think the U.S. Congress should have fought over it from there. That is the legitimate way to deal with an election that a lot of folks, including me, think had a lot of problems in 2020.” Of course, Donald gave this fellow-insurrectionist a promotion.  Jen O’Malley Dillon of the Biden-Harris campaign, put it this way, “[Donald] picked J.D. Vance as his running mate because Vance will do what Mike Pence wouldn’t on January 6: bend over backwards to enable Trump and his extreme MAGA agenda, even if it means breaking the law and no matter the harm to the American people. In other words, Donald didn’t want to take a chance that his new running mate would ever put the country first like Pence did. That’s one more guardrail that no longer exists. 

Mary L. Trump nails it in that we cannot unite around the fascistic and divisive Trump/Vance agenda.