#but now I do (in fact I have two) because!! I care about them!!! a lot!!!

[isaadore]

AS SURE AS THE SKY IS BLUE LUKE HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing luke hughes x reader

SUMMARY luke has never been more certain about anything in his life. he wants to marry you, and he wants to do it now. never mind that he’s only 21 or that everyone around him keeps asking if he’s sure. he’s sure. he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. word count 0.8k

warnings fluff, mentions of marriage

note requested 🤍

LH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

LUKE HAD ALWAYS been impatient when it came to things he wanted. His NHL debut? He had been counting down the days since he was a kid. Living on his own? He was practically throwing his bags into his new apartment before his mom could make him a goodbye breakfast. But this was different. This wasn’t just something he wanted. It was something he knew.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he had said one night, voice muffled against your shoulder as he lay on top of you on the couch. It was the off-season, and he had spent nearly every day like this, clinging to you like you were his lifeline, soaking up every second before he had to go back to New Jersey.

You had laughed, fingers softly threading through his hair. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest so he could look at you properly. His eyes were unwavering. “I’m serious.”

Your heart had stuttered at the way he said it. Not like a question, not like a possibility. He had said it like a fact.

“Luke,” you had started. He was 21, and you were barely older. People your age didn’t just get married.

He shut you up with a kiss. “I know what you’re gonna say,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours. “And I don’t care. I love you. I want to marry you. Why should we wait?”

You hadn’t had an answer for that. You still didn’t.

The engagement wasn’t a huge, elaborate ordeal. No viral-worthy flash mobs or expensive candlelit dinners. Just the two of you, standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, his hands slightly clammy as he pulled out a ring and said, “Marry me?” like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And because it was Luke, and because you loved him, and because why should we wait? you had said yes.

Which led to now. Sitting in a booth at a restaurant, a dinner meant to celebrate the engagement turned into an intervention.

“You’re sure about this?” Jack asked, arms crossed over his chest. It was the third time he had asked.

“Yes.” Luke shot him a glare before looking around the table. His parents, his brothers, his teammates. All of them were looking at him like he had just announced he was dropping hockey to become a circus performer.

“It’s just…” Quinn paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “You’re young, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “So?”

“So most people don’t get married at 21,” Jack cut in, throwing his hands up.

“Well, I’m not most people,” Luke shot back.

Beside him, you squeezed his hand under the table. You had expected this. Luke had, too. His family was supportive, but they were also realists. And realists didn’t get engaged at 21.

Ellen sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not saying you shouldn’t marry her.” She gave you a warm, reassuring smile before turning back to her son. “We just want to make sure you’re thinking this through.”

“I have thought this through,” Luke said, exasperated. “For months.”

“Months,” Jack repeated like it was a ridiculous amount of time.

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Guys. Look at me.” He gestured to himself. “Do I look like someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

Jack opened his mouth. “Do not answer that,” Luke warned before he could say anything.

A chuckle passed around the table, but the concern was still there, lingering in the air.

“Luke,” Jim finally spoke, calm and measured, like he was trying to keep the peace. “Marriage isn’t something you rush into.”

Luke softened, taking a breath before responding. “I know that,” he said. “But I also know that I love her. And I don’t want to wait years just because people think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

He turned to you then, eyes searching yours, needing you to back him up.

You squeezed his hand again and smiled. “I know it seems fast. But we love each other, and we’re happy. That’s what matters, right?”

Ellen exhaled, smiling softly. “It is what matters.”

Jack still looked skeptical, but he leaned back in his seat, conceding. “Alright. Fine. But if you ever need an out, just say the word.”

Luke rolled his eyes but grinned. “Not happening.”

And just like that, the tension eased. His parents let it go, Jack stopped grilling him, and the dinner turned into what it was supposed to be: a celebration.

Later, as you walked hand in hand toward the car, Luke tugged you closer. “You still sure about this?” he teased, bumping his nose against yours.

You grinned. “As sure as the sky is blue.”

Luke beamed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

Neither could you.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ LH43 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER

After Harley being turned into the system of Playtime co

After the hour of Joy, both Sawyer and you got separated and while he was secured to a system and manage to strike a deal with the prototype, you were still human and very much in danger.

After what happened Sawyer became more obsessive, more paranoid. Searching for you through every camera and sending Yarnaby to expeditions to try and find you.

Harley and you were basically the only ones who had interacted with Yarnaby so far so the yarn lion knew you pretty well and was happy to search for you.

But really, the doctor searched for your presence in every camera, every sensor detector. Hell he even started setting traps for Doey because he though he would know were you are.

Of course, you were hiding in places with no camera because of the less amount of toys that lived in that areas. Therefore, much safer.

You would try to go upstairs again to search for food and for Harley, or at least of what happened to him. Of course you found nothing since there was not really that much time for paperwork after your stunt.

You only found a black tape with the title "the doctor" in it but so far you haven't found any system to plug it in so you can watch it.

And Harley, well, unlike you he has all the information of Playtime Co at his very whim.

When he is not searching for you or trying to hunt the remaining of Doeys group, he look at your files. Your photos before entering the company in your curriculum vitae; the ones when you were working in the company, some of which you are accompanied by him and other researchers; and the ones of the recent days before the hour of joy.

Talking about Doey, he also searched for you, scared for your well being. He knew you would go alone and even if he doubt the doctor would purposely harm you, he knew others will.

The children are just worried for their adoptive parent friend

You weren't aware yet of what Sawyer had been turned into. But you were aware that whatever living creature in this factory was a potential threat to you. That's the reason you tried to save every bullet of the only gun you had.

You would sometimes remember some of Harley's habits. Like for example his insistence of not eating sweet pickles. You remembered how, one day you went to get food for the food of you per his request and picked to burgers.

When you came back to the office to eat your dinner and started to bite in the food Harley made a unpleased look.

Do they have pickles in it?- he asked disgusted- I swear I cannot stand this things. So horribly disgusting...

Oh, yeah sorry, I didn't know. You can give them to me if you don't like them. I love them so theres no problem.- you responded, playing down the pickle problem

He loocked at you, frowning. With the plastic fork that was next to him he withdrew the remaining pickles on his burger and gave them to you.

Of course now that Harley knew you in fact like those pickles then he would ask for them in your food when it was his turn to go upstairs and pick your lunches.

Members of the stuff were absolutely amused when they saw Dr Harley Sawyer up on the cafeteria, he almost never ventured to the upper levels. And they were even more amused when he asked not for one but two lunches and one of them with pickles.

After a former assistant of his was fired for adding sweet pickles in his lunch almost everyone in the company new for his aversion for that food.

You didn't knew that then but most of the stuff at Playtime Co just guessed that the second lunch was for you so they assumed you both were dating or seeing each other.

Other thing you didn't know was how, after being turned into a computer system, Harley wouldn't stop asking the other employees for you. What had they done to you, if you had been relocated or if you had been "taken care off"

The only one who responded to him was Leith, who wasted no time bragging about your new relocation and how you were growing in your new job.

Also, Leith made sure to tell the rest of the employees to not tell Sawyer about you asking about him. And of course not to say a word to you about the new "AI" assistant.

Sometimes you felt a little bit dumb, remembering all of this now. Most possible situation was that Harley was already dead. And surely it would be your fault.

But Harley also thought the same thing of the memories he was holding on to. So yeah basically mutual pinning over each other. This is my definition of a long distance relationship.

And addressing the hour of joy... Poppy doesn't really know what yo think about you. Sure you have freed them but why? She doesn't know if to trust you but believes you are a better option than the doctor so if the situations ever comes she could be able to work with you.

When the doctor got himself a body (those robots with TV heads) he felt nude in some way. Even though he was only metal and cables.

To solve this he took some old lab coats to make himself a cover. The only lab coat he kept intact was yours. He found a way to incorporate it on his new coat. The pin with your name still on it.

And strangely you have done something similar. You found Harley's old lab coat while exploring the company searching for food. Resting in his old office chair. You put it on and took it with you. It was bigger than you but hey, long coats never get old. Sure,.you had to roll up the sleeves but nothing that can't be solved.

This one is shorter than usual but I'm working on chap 3 so I wanted to drop this off first. Thanks for the support. All of you are amazing and deserve the best. 🥰😭

-Unedited head cannons-

I made some updates in chap 2 because I wanted reader to spend some time wondering were Sawyer might be

[poorrichardjr]

Ok, I can agree with both people here to some degree, though I think a few things should be brought up.

First, Gore actually won the popular vote in Florida. The Supreme Court stopped the recount that proved that Gore actually won, by a very slim margin. Second, instead of blaming Nader, as most mainstream democrats do, why don't they blame Jeb Bush for purging hundreds of thousands of people from the rolls who were alive and able to vote simply because their names corresponded to names of criminals in other states. This is still done btw every single election in republican run states.

Second, I don't blame all of the voters in the last election, republican or democrat. I don't blame the people who have no time to do the research because they work 60+ hours a week, have families to take care of and spend time with, or those who gladly lapped up the propaganda about Biden and Trump.

There is a caveat to that thought though. Being an informed voter is the responsibility of the people voting. Are you as a voter doing anything at all to learn about the candidates? Are you only getting your information from Fox and the like or RT or Sputnik or whatever? If so, you are slurping up that good ole propaganda and learning virtually nothing. Don't get me wrong, a lot of media outlets have some form of propaganda or slant to their news, but in aggregate, it isn't hard to determine some basic facts about a candidate even with all the partisan BS.

Believe it or not but Trump was not a normal republican president last time. He was crass, cruel, and tried numerous times to do things that his staffers said and warned him were illegal. He was impeached twice for doing things that no other president had done, especially inspiring the coup on January 6th. He also nearly led us into war with North Korea and Iran. We were on the brink of war with North Korea, and suddenly things changed when Russia spoke with both Trump and Un. What did they say that changed the heat? They probably told Trump that Kim wasn't really that bad and that he should be the bigger man and do some outreach, and they told Kim that all you had to do to get anything from Trump was flatter him, because he is an absolute moron.

Biden wasn't a great president, but honestly he really only did two terrible things. He appointed Merrick Garland to oversee the DOJ, and though he was a great prosecutor, he moved far too slowly and initially only focused on the foot soldiers of the insurrection. He never even went after all the congress people who were also deeply involved. Other than that, Biden did what he has always done his entire career and that is to support Israel. He would not use his presidential influence to curb what was happening in Israel, and that turned a lot of good people away from him.

Kamala wasn't really in the running long enough to get a good footing, and she didn't try to differentiate herself from Biden that much, simply because much of what Biden was doing worked. Jobs were up, the economy got much better than the rest of the world, and actual wages were going up for the first time in nearly thirty years.

In the end if you listened to Trump for a single hour and Kamala for a single hour their demeanor, ideas, and temperament should have been enough to get people to do the right thing, but it wasn't. The blatant racism and cruelty espoused by Trump wasn't enough. The knowledge that Trump would support anything Israel wanted in Gaza wasn't enough. The constant lying and whining about 2020 wasn't enough. In the end, if you couldn't guess that some of what is happening now and what could be happening soon was on the table, then you were a fucking idiot or so deeply into a partisan whole that you really didn't care.

Americans failed in their responsibility, and now they will be paying the price for their inability to take this seriously.

Just to be a clear, I am not a democrat, and yet I have voted for them in the last three elections because only a god damn moron couldn't see what Trump is. I hated Hilary because she was untrustworthy, despite my same opinion that she was probably the most qualified candidate for that position in decades. I hated Biden because he really is part of the reason we have many of the problems we have today, and he has been out of touch with a lot of America for years. I had no problems with Kamala, except that she was embracing the right-wingers who gave us Iraq and the quagmire that was Afghanistan and didn't do enough to try and get democrats to vote for her. You can criticize Trump all day, but republicans don't care and are going to vote for him anyway. She needed to rebuild the coalition that was disintegrating because of Gaza and the DOJ's inaction.

[covenofagatha]

Spitroasting with g!p Agatha and g!p Rio

*gasp* who said that 🫢

I'm definitely not thinking about the same thing 👀 anyways...

Two is better than one

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: g!p Agatha, g!p Rio, spitroasting, daddy Rio, mommy Agatha, threesome, squirting, degradation, praise, light spanking

When Agatha gets home from work, the first thing she hears when she steps into the kitchen is the faint sound of slapping skin and your high-pitched whines and she chuckles to herself. 

Rio was always easier to break than she was, all it took is that doe-eyed look you do so well coupled with a daddy, please, and Rio couldn’t resist. 

So Agatha slowly steps up the stairs, careful to not make a sound lest she alert either of you. She creeps to the doorway and peeks around it, and the fabric of her pants instantly tightens. 

Rio’s got you on your knees and elbows on the bed, one hand wound in your hair, the other gripping your hip tightly, while she quickly thrusts her cock inside you. When she draws out, Agatha can see her length glistening with your wetness. Rio’s face is contorted with pleasure and Agatha wonders how long she’s been fucking you. 

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” Rio barks, slapping her hand on your ass and you emit another moan. 

It takes you a moment to respond because of the dizziness in your head. “So fucking good, daddy, your cock is so deep inside me — fuck, daddy, please!” 

“Better hope mommy doesn’t come home and see what a slut you’re being right now,” Rio grunts, pushing you down further into the mattress and you gasp at the new angle. She’s hitting your g-spot with every time and you can feel your orgasm building up. Tension is coiling in your body and you just need a bit more—

“Oh, well mommy is here,” Agatha says, stepping into the room and clapping slowly. “And she certainly does see what a slut you are.” Rio freezes inside you, her cock pulsing. You turn your head to watch Agatha walk over to you while you start to lazily move back and forth on Rio’s cock, who hisses. You’re by the edge of the bed so she comes to stand right in front of you.

“Hi, mommy,” you greet casually amidst the squelching sounds you’re making. If you act like her darling little girl, maybe she won’t punish you too badly. There’s an unspoken rule that you and Rio have to get Agatha’s permission before having sex, and you definitely didn’t today. 

In fact, Agatha told you this morning before she left in no uncertain terms, that you and Rio had to wait until she got home today. 

But then you had gotten horny and it doesn’t take much to convince Rio to fuck you. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” she says, tracing her fingers over your lips before shoving them into your mouth. You gag, eyes rolling to look up at her through your eyelashes, and you don’t miss the flicker of heat in her eyes. “You know I could hear you the second I got home?” 

You try to look embarrassed. “Whoops.” 

Agatha huffs out a laugh and pulls her sticky fingers out before wiping them on your cheeks. “Well, if you want the entire neighborhood to know what a slut you are for us, that’s fine.” She unbuckles her belt from her pants, slides it out, and throws it somewhere across the room. “But, you see, honey, mommy and daddy have a reputation to uphold.” She undoes the button to her pants and drags the zipper down slowly. “So I think I need to shut you up.” 

She pulls out her already-hard cock and you involuntarily clench around Rio. Her nails dig into your hips but you barely even feel it over how drunk you feel. You’ve never had both of them inside you at the same time. 

“Keep going, Rio,” Agatha orders, stroking her cock and watching the way your face changes when Rio starts to thrust back into you roughly. Agatha’s cock gets harder under her hand and your mouth is watering from the thought of tasting her. 

Rio’s cock is longer, but Agatha’s is girthier, so your jaw always hurts more after giving the older woman a blowjob. But the ache is delicious during it, and you can’t even imagine how good it’s going to feel to have Rio this deep inside you while Agatha fucks your mouth. 

Agatha waits until you’re a moaning mess before knocking Rio’s hand that’s holding onto your hair aside, taking its place with her own hand, and dragging her hot cock against your lips. She spreads her precum all over you, getting your cheeks and chin covered as well, before positioning it at your open mouth. 

You look up at her pleadingly and she slaps her cock against your stuck-out tongue a few times, making you moan at the weight. 

And then she pushes in all while Rio is pounding into you hard. 

Agatha starts out with shallow thrusts, just bobbing into your mouth and pulling back, and Rio’s grunts get louder behind you, her pace becoming more erratic. 

When Agatha finally gets her cock all the way down your throat, she pauses for a moment and just revels in the way your mouth feels around her, and you hollow out your cheeks and suck, making her whimper. 

Rio slows down, more than likely to stave off her own orgasm, so you’re being gently rocked forward onto Agatha’s cock. But then Agatha starts to move her hips and Rio matches her, and they’re both using you at the same time and you’ve never felt pleasure this intense before. 

“Look at our little whore, Rio,” Agatha chokes out and you can barely hear her over the wet sounds from your cunt and your gagging. You cough around her cock and it sends spittle pouring down your chin. “Taking both our cocks like the good slut she is. So fucking desperate for us. Oh, fuck—��� You rub your tongue against the underside of her cock, where she’s really sensitive, and she pitches forward. 

“Such a good girl for mommy and daddy,” Rio coos before spanking you roughly. You whimper and the vibrations make Agatha’s hand tighten in your hair. Your jaw starts to burn but you try to relax and open a bit wider so Agatha can keep using your mouth. “Are we making you feel good, doll?” 

You babble something but it’s completely unintelligible with Agatha’s cock in your mouth and the fog in your brain, so you settle for nodding your head. Rio pulls your hips up to arch your back even more and you moan loudly, but it’s muffled. Rio is hitting so deep inside you that your toes are curling and your eyes are rolling back into your head. Both of their cocks are throbbing inside you and you know none of you are going to be able to last much longer. 

Your pussy clenches sporadically around Rio’s cock and your throat convulses around Agatha’s, and both of them are grunting with the effort of fucking you. You miss the shared glance between them and then all of a sudden, their thrusts match. They both push in and out of you at the same time and it’s completely overwhelming. 

“So fucking good,” Agatha rasps, both of them speeding up and your eyes gloss over. Tension like you’ve never felt is skating through your body, heat thrumming in your veins, and you feel everything. It’s all heightened — the way Rio’s cock drags against your walls, the way Agatha’s cock twitches against your tongue, you’re hyper-aware of Rio’s nails in your hips and Agatha’s hands both tangled in your hair. “Taking our cocks like a perfect slut. Our perfect slut. So good for mommy and daddy.” 

Rio starts to rut into you, shallowly but still quickly, and it feels like her cock is swelling inside you. “Fuck, doll, daddy’s gonna cum.” 

A thrill runs through you and you clench around her even more, but Agatha tightly says, “Not yet. Wait for me. We’re going to fill her up at the same time.” A loud keen rips itself out of your mouth, clear as day even with Agatha’s rough thrusts. Your throat is raw and your jaw is aching and tears are pouring down your face, mixing with the saliva on your chin, but you’re so fucking close and you need them to cum. Pressure is building up in your stomach in a way that’s never happened before, almost like you have to pee. 

But then they both give you a really hard thrust and the pressure explodes. You let out a sob and then you feel a gush of wetness and instant relief and Rio whimpers. 

“She fucking squirted,” Rio moans in awe, her breathing growing heavier. Agatha makes a pained sound and you know that they’re both so close.

So you suck Agatha’s cock roughly and she swears before stiffening. Rio sees this and drives her hips into you one last time before their warm seed spreads. You fall apart even more as they pump their cum into you, all three of you groaning and grunting. 

Agatha pulls out first and you gasp for breath, the cum that you didn’t swallow leaking out the side of your mouth. She cleans her cock off using your face and then swipes at the trail of cum with a finger and stuffs it back into your mouth. 

Rio stays inside you until she softens, both of you enjoying the feeling of her twitching every now and then when you clench from an aftershock. When her cock slips out of your body, her cum oozes out in globs and you fall onto the bed, absolutely spent and panting. 

The younger woman comes to stand in front of you next to Agatha and you can see how absolutely soaked you got her. There’s another pang of heat inside you when you take in how wet their cocks are. 

Agatha begins to slowly stroke hers and your breath catches in your throat when it slowly starts to harden again. 

“Let’s give her a second to recover,” she says, looking at Rio, “and then we switch. I want to know how her pussy feels after you’ve already cum inside it.” 

You can’t help the moan that escapes you. 

Fuck. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[therosebookshop]

A Mate’s Special Touch

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Contains/Warnings: tiny bit of angst (his wings being gone, we all know he would’ve had them), clingy Xiao (self indulgent sue me), mentions of bird habits and mating

A/N: Saw a yt short about the difference between petting vs stroking ur birds and the meaning and I was suddenly inspired

Song this is named for: None

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

He didn’t let people get close to him. It was more a fear of contaminating them with his karmic debt then being antisocial, and that was what he told people such as the Traveler. It was the truth mostly, so he didn’t care.

But when you came around and you, like those other rare people, squeezed in through the barriers around his heart, he wouldn’t let anybody but you touch him. In fact, he tried to seek it out and ask for it in his own ways- light brushes of skin on skin, leaning against you, holding you a bit tighter when you wanted a hug. There was something special about your touch and he loved it. Craved it, even, after oh-so long of no touch, hardly any contact.

Anytime anybody- and he meant anybody- but you tried to touch him, even the Traveler, he would puff up like a bird and glare at them. He may not have had wings to puff up for intimidation anymore, but he sure tried. Even the slightest brush made him grumble indignantly and want to scrub his skin, but he wanted you to touch him, to stroke his hair or his back.

You could feel, under his clothes, hidden carefully, the stubs of wings. The broken bone, the still tender skin. He wishes he still has his wings to tuck you into. He knows you would’ve loved them, would’ve helped to preen his feathers into place, would’ve cuddled into them. But they’re gone now, taken from him cruelly.

You still love him despite the scars, the marks, the imperfections. And he adores you for it. He leaves you gifts, anything he thinks you’ll like, on the railing of your room balcony. Sometimes you’ll find him perched there at nighttime. He likes it more than the balcony most people look for him on, because you’ve decorated even the balcony.

When you speak even the first two letters of his name he’s there, already tucked under your arm. Your touch is like a soothing balm on his corrupted soul. Some nights he’s so worried about his karmic debt hurting you, especially with how much skin-on-skin contact you have with him. For hours he’ll struggle to keep himself away from you, from your touch and your cuddles.

But he eventually succumbs to the want to cuddle up and be content like a bird tucked under their mother’s wing. You stroke his hair, he likes that more then when you pet him like an animal- he tends to bare his little fangs at you when you do that, but he learned the hard way not to do that when you giggles about his ‘little teefies’ for several minutes.

And you don’t learn about this until you get a book about birds to learn more about his bird like tendencies, but birds only let their mates stroke them like that. Pets are platonic, but certain birds only let their mate stroke them all over. And then it clicks- the gifts, the baring of fangs when you tried to pat his head once, the happy little cooing noises when you run your hands over his back or sides, the clinginess. And when you take into account whenever even the Traveler or Mr Zhongli tries to touch him he’ll puff up and bare his fangs, but he’s always fine with your touch, it makes sense.

And now that you know what it means it’s utterly adorable. How could you not be charmed by that? That he only wants your touch? You love him even more, doting on him with kisses and more touches and making him almond tofu whenever. It’s never really official when you start dating, but the sudden appearance of lots and lots of bites and nibbles on your neck and the altogether too pleased look on Xiao’s normally emotionless face is enough for most of the people working at the inn to put two and two together.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

Yes, you don't owe anyone your time and intimacy. These things are freely given to people whose company you enjoy. They're not a reward for performing the mechanical actions of courtship correctly, they're a logical consequence of two people mutually liking one another on a profound human level. Courtship is a game between two people who already like each other, and the thing is that there is no reward, the reward is getting to spend socially sanctioned time together that could lead into nesting and raising children. The win condition of dating is a pair bond capable of weathering life and maybe sustaining childrearing, which for most people involves sex because it's fun, bonding and is what leads to children. The win condition of dating is not mechanical sex for mechanical sex's own sake.

The thing that progresses dating into greater seriousness is therefore also not a kiss, not a handy, nothing — you can do all of that with whoever you're dating, I don't care, but call me a boomer idk, the period of time that you're in love is supposed to be safe and fun for both parties. The progression of a relationship is about trust, which dies instantly the second dating is no longer both fun and safe.

If feeling safe and having fun does not, in your heart of hearts, include being alone together or handies or head for you (and let's be honest with ourselves, it often doesn't, no one really thinks these kinds of risks to her reputation and human value are fun and safe; when girls engage in these behaviours it's because they live in a bizarro world where for some reason horny boys are allowed to set the rules of mate choice and girls are taught to value being wanted above anything else), that should be respected. If it isn't, stop dating this person.

Lack of willingness to respect women's nonconsent (and telling you not to be a prude is, in fact, disrespect) leads to rape, which used to often lead to children out of wedlock whose lives were doomed to be miserable, which is why so many patriarchal cultures wrote not being in private with unwed women into ritual or customary law and usually tied in metaphysics.

Even back then, people knew that rape can be a profound sociological trauma with very far-reaching consequences and wanted to keep their children from experiencing it, and their grandchildren from living whatever life these circumstances gave them. Not everyone alive in a prevailing social climate agrees with it, but they do all know what the consequences are for acting like it doesn't exist.

And after marriage too, you may not always have the right to say no, but on principle you deserve it just by existing as a human being. No still means no even with a ring on it.

I would (and I have) stop talking to a guy even at the implication of any entitlement to sex; in my culture it's normal to be a virgin until 24 or older nowadays, because marriage is a very long commitment, and sex is always a risk for the woman, and no shit she has the right to discretion. If he wants to gently try to wheedle or pressure you into sex while you're still reasonably in the public eye as a distinct person now, imagine what he'll do when you're married, you're in private together with no witnesses all the time, and his grandma thinks he's entitled to it!

He's not entitled to fuck or damn, but marital rape is much harder to get any recourse for than rape, comma, vanilla (which itself is the farthest thing from a picnic), and not everyone who blogs on the internet has a right to no-fault divorce. Universally applicable advice: either the man you're with is capable of understanding that no means no, or you just don't get into that position with him to begin with. If he has bad vibes, don't give him a chance, leave. If he says or does some weird shit, don't give him the benefit of the doubt, leave. You are always morally in the right for leaving and telling everyone about why.

There may be very little you can do once you're too far in — I'm not saying you shouldn't have the right to leave a bad marriage, I'm saying a lot of people wake up one day to find they don't — so if at all you can choose whether you end up in that position, do everything in your power not to.

There should, also, in principle be standards you should be able to hold men to. Leave if they refuse to be held to standards; they do believe in standards even if they claim not to, just standards only for you. You want the guys that believe sincerely in standards for everyone that you also believe in.

They will be hard to find because their path is thankless and often also considered to be cringe or even juvenile (because very young boys don't know they're supposed to want to hurt women yet, not wanting to hurt women is widely perceived as naive, feminine or infantile among men), but it's the only way to safely be heterosexual. If you need a man (I'm a lesbian but I have brothers I love who feel they need women, and I know full well that it is possible to feel you need a man), pick a good one.

You may be waiting until you're 30, even 40, but the good news is that gives you time to make nesting money and learn who you are, so, you know, different time periods, different priorities.

Secrets of the mothers of Israel or whatever, special for Tumblr: make good choices about your box and hold the men in your life to standards. Otherwise they will make up bad one-sided standards to hold you to and make your stupid box choices for you.

The social coercion women face to date people they’re not attracted to is fucking insane. I remember distinctly thinking “well, I can just force myself to be attracted to him…”

Films, books, etc, all show the trope of beautiful woman and unattractive man. There is still the myth that an unattractive man will treat you better than an attractive one (more women are waking up to this, but still). Even now the left thinks that activism happens between the legs of women.

Don’t date people you’re not attracted to. Don’t feel guilty for not giving them the time of day. No means no.

[nymphaea-blue]

Oneshot - Rafayel would be good with kids.

Info : 1400+ word count, reader and Rafayel are dating, reader is referred to as a female, fluff, mentions of missing someone, perhaps hurt/comfort, small allusion to the possibility of having kids with him in the future towards the end, Tina is in fact made up and doesn't exist within Love and Deepspace lore.

Notes : Rafayel is giving me amazing older brother vibes and that's what inspired this ^^,

Rafayel would be good with kids.

Your coworker, Tara, has a younger sister named Tina that you were charged with taking care of because Tara was needed urgently at work. You didn't mind, she was your good friend and since her sister was around 7, you didn't think it would be a big issue.

The first hour or two went great, you two had fun and as it turned out, Tina was a great kid, pretty shy but smart and well behaved. Later on however, you got a call from Jenna, the situation Tara was tasked with investigating got out of hand and your team was needed ASAP to handle wanderers. 

You scrambled to find someone that would be able to watch over Tina, but everyone you thought about was sure to be busy… except one person.

“Hey cutie, missed me?” Rafayel picked up your call quickly, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of happiness at the fact it was you calling.

“Well yes, but I need your help… My friend left her little sister in my care but I'm urgently needed for a mission and I need someone to watch over her for a few hours. Would you be able to do it? Pleaseee?” You begged slightly on the phone, there was a slight worry and panic in your voice because time was of the essence but you were also worried about Tina.

“Hmm.. I dun know, what would I get from it, hm? My schedule is very busy, ya know.”

“I will buy you takeout and bring you more materials for paints. Please Rafayel, I need to leave soon!”

“Alright alright, I was just kidding, I would help anyways. Bring her over, I can play nanny for a few hours.”

As the doors closed and Rafayel waved last goodbyes to you as you hurriedly left, he was left alone with a little kid. Great, soo what now? He had no idea how to care for a child.

“Hey kid, what would you like to do? I got some books here, but I doubt you wanna read them.. they are pretty boring to be honest.” He asked in hopes of trying to figure out the little girl a bit more. She seemed very quiet ever since she entered the studio.

“It's okay, I got my own book, thank you sir.” Tina politely said before she went back to her book as she sat on the couch in Rafayels studio. She was a little shy, it was visible with how she tried to take as little space as possible and not make a sound, but he could work with that.

Rafayel nodded and went back to his painting for a while. He thought that perhaps giving the girl some time to warm up would be a good idea, though he kept an eye on her as well to make sure she would be alright.

After about thirty minutes, he stepped down from his high chair and went over to the nearby kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and he came back to the studio to hand one to Tina.

“What book are you reading?” He asked curiously as he started to drink his own water. 

“... It's a book about wanderers.” Tina answered shortly as she stared at the glass he gave her before taking a small sip and placing it on a nearby table.

“Really? That's quite a topic. Are you interested in fighting?

“Not really, I… wanna be smart, like my sister. She works in the Hunters Association.” 

“Ah, that's quite a noble job. My friend works there too, she does a good job protecting the city or whatever but she doesn't have as much time to meet up with me anymore.”

“What do you do while you wait for her?”

“I paint. Commissions, art for exhibitions, her.. anything, really. Doing what I like is a great distraction.”

“... I don’t feel distracted.”

“Hm?”

“I still miss her… even though I do what I like”

There it was, she opened up a little. He thought that such a subject wasn't great for a young kid, there was bound to be a reason.

“Hmm, well do you really like reading this? Or do you like doing this because it reminds you of your sister?”

“I don't know…”

“That's okay. Missing someone can be horrible, especially with all the waiting. Take me for example, I'm not the most patient person in the world so it's horrible sometimes to just stay all alone while she's somewhere else. But in the end, when my friend does return, the feeling of joy is undeniable, and I think she would like me to be happy while I wait rather than be all sad and think of her.”

“.. So what should I do?” 

“Why don't you try something else? Like painting, for example.” Rafayel said as he got up and quickly gathered two small canvases, some paints, brushes and cups of water before returning to her side and sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

“Painting is a great way to pour all of your feelings onto one place, so you can focus on what exactly you feel. Then, you can show it, using colours, symbolism, texture - anything, really.” He explained in full focus as he talked about something he knew so well as he patted the space next to him to invite Tina to sit next to him.

“So.. how about instead of missing your sister, and thinking of what she does, you think of what you feel and what you want to do?” He looked at her when he said those words and extended a paint brush if she only wanted to accept his offer.

You rang the doorbell as soon as you found yourself in front of Rafayels house. It was late by now, the mission took much longer than expected, and you felt bad about leaving Tina with Rafayel for so long while you were the one who was supposed to take care of her.

He didn't answer, so you used the key you had and opened the door yourself. After you closed it and went into the living room, you saw Tina and Rafayel talking and painting while sitting on the floor. They were so deep into the conversation that they didn't even notice you at first, until Rafayel spotted you after a few minutes.

“Ah, there you are! Started to think you forgot about us. You took your sweet time.” He teased as he stood up and walked over to you while Tina continued her artwork. She looked much happier and energetic now, you noticed.

“I'm sorry… the mission was much more intense than we all thought. I brought you some food though! And I found some pretty flowers nearby as well, I thought you could make some nice colours out of them.” You responded as you handed him the payment for taking care of Tina. You felt bad but you hoped that it would be enough to make it up to Rafayel.

“Hmm..” Rafayel inspected the flowers, before he picked one up and then tucked it into the hair behind your ear. “I think this one should stay with you, it contrasts your eyes nicely.”

His smoothness somehow always threw you off guard, even after dating for a while. A small romantic gesture yet it made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for the food though, but I ate already. We had some seafood for dinner.” He said as he took the takeout bag from your hands.

“Really? You made food?”

“Why are you surprised? I can cook if I want to, besides, someone had to feed the kid since you left her all alone.” He said as he pointed to Tina.

“She wasn't all alone, she was under your care!”

Tina, who probably heard her name being called, soon ran up to you holding her masterpiece in her hand.

“Look what I made with uncle Rafayel! Do you think she will like it?”

“I know she will love it!” You said as you patted her head. Uncle Rafayel? That was a new one, she seemed to have gotten along with him quite easily.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Rafayel. You really did me a favour.” You thanked him as Tina was getting ready to leave his studio. You were quite happy because Tina looked much more open now, you wondered how he did it.

“It was no issue, really. The kid is smart, we just talked a bit and painted, I did nothing.” He said nonchalantly, though in your eyes - he did a great job. It was endearing almost, how easily he got along with her and even without much knowledge on kids, he did his best to care for her. Perhaps in the future, he would care like this for other kids as well.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next(TBC)

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[opal-owl-flight]

John. John Splatoon. The man, the goofball the sweetest man youll see. Chatty, bubbly, and gives really good team morale.

But things arent all sweet.

I wonder if he shuts himself up when he feels hes being *too* jolly.

His family is kind. Its not their fault. Yknow how people are fucking mean to those who are very excited abt things.

I think he had an experience like that. Tanara was thankfully there when things started getting really bad.

John was made fun of when he first started turfing. He was just sooo excited abt it all. So enthusiastic!! He studied abt the greats, the top players, all that. And the bitchass mean kids thought itd be funny to crush his dreams.

They made fun of him when he rambles abt strategy. They mocked him whenever he tries to be a hero and gets fucking splatted for it (OH GEE, IF HIS TEAMMATES WERE ACTUALLY *HELPING* HIM HE WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN GOT).

One time I think some bastard jammed his weapon so it was unusuable for a while, and he was unable to turf.

"Good riddance," the team had said. "That beak is finally quiet for once."

Tanara saw this happening and decided to stand up for him.

They saw this boy getting picked on, and didnt hesitate in open firing at the bastards. Didnt care if theyll get banned for a week for firing a weapon off the field.

"|Hey, are you the guy who cornered me in the last match? Color me impressed.|"

Tanara doesnt stand for bullies. Ever. They hate seeing these kinds of people in the leagues. They hate the fact that these nutjobs are so good at the game!!! they want to make the leagues a fun place for everyone. None of this fuckinh bullshit. From a young age theyve already defended others. Wanted to make a better world where everyone can just be who they wanted to be, grow into their best selves.

The orange squid was a big help. With them actually recognizing his talent and running by his side,,,

They made him believe in himself. Fuck what everyone else says.

"|We won because of your strategy,|" they sign. "|If it werent for you, we'd have lost the tournament.|"

And hes given a smile of encouragement. Oh, sweet understanding, sweet recognition.

For a tender year they and John built a strong team and friendship. John became this cheery man bc of them.

They helped him stand up for himself. Helped him in the art of not giving a fuck. Or raining retribution where it is applicable (the duo have sent bullies crying after giving fjem say -- a 20 second rainmaker match)

Whenever someone tries to make fun of him in the later years, or now -- even if Tanara is out of the picture bc theyre getting blended -- he will literally ignore the naysayers. Bc he knows. He knows Tanara believes in him. He knows his team believes in him. He knows many others do, as well.

He knows his own capabilities. He knows what his limits. And hes. God, theres a reason hes second in command. Hes smart about the sport. Hes scary on the field. Dont let the goofy attitude fool you. Hes having fun but you on enemy team wont!

Some people are recently saying that Tanara left their old team bc John was lagging too far behind them, that Ink Typh∞n is the natural next step for them.

Dead wrong dipshits. If anything, those two are eye to eye.

If Tanara wasnt forced to retire, theyf still be fighting by his side.

-----------

Ofc its not all perfect. He still shuts down sometimes. Shuts himself up if he gets scared of offending someone/in general.

If he doesnt get reassurance or proves to himself/his naysayers of his own capabilities, he starts going quiet, smiling less.

Those wounds still hurt, Im afraid....

-----------

And what about after Octo Expansion.

What was going through his mind?

Like....this is your best friend. The one who helped you become the man you are. They were your role model. Theyre so strong, so assured. Confident. Ruthless on the turf. So skilled that nothing can faze them. Believed in you like no one else did.

And youre watching them seem to get worse day by day.

Theyre closing up. Theyre not telling you anything. You reach out but they dismiss you. And their colors only get more desaturated with time. They still believe in you, but its clear that theres something bothering them.

You try to share your joy with them, talking about the things you liked. Like old times. It turns out however, that the character you idolized in the media you consume, is them.

And it explains everything.

An entire secret double life and they didnt tell you.

You were their best friend. They were by your side when you struggled to make it in this city. They gave you assurance when your confidence started to fail.

They were your hero.

Where were you then, when they needed one themself?

They slump into John's arms,,

Theyre only older than him by a year. but they feel so,,

They feel so frail. A shadow of how they used to be. A body broken by war, a mind and heart ravaged by worry and vigilance and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

They tell him that they dont want him to take this load. They tell him he doesnt deserve it.

He says he has no plans of getting into this, not directly. He just wants them to come back to him after duty, or allow him to help in any way he can.

He'll just wait by the door, like he always has.

And hes holding them. He wants to keep them there til everything becomes okay again.

[firealder2005]

I honestly don’t post about any sports all that often. But this Super Bowl compelled me to write this.

Now, right out the gate I will tell you I am a KC Chiefs fan. I was born one. I am a third-generation fan, going back to my grandpa who picked them at 19 when they were a godawful team and barely televised through my mom’s childhood, because only the good teams were televised then — so if they could watch them, it was to watch them get POUNDED.

I got to watch them win a Super Bowl after a 50 year drought. It was an exhilarating feeling, especially since I was constantly picked on at school by a classmate because of my team (he would go out of his way to harass me whenever his team — Ravens, btw — beat the Chiefs. And he was blissfully quiet the whole day after).

I got to see them win another one two years ago, in the affectionately nicknamed Kelce Bowl because of the Kelce brothers playing against each other. That was a fun year.

And another one after that.

Am I all that cut up about them losing this year?

No. I am not. Because I know it’s just a game. The dudebros need to chill out fr.

But I also know that this year…it wasn’t quite just a game, either. There’s other forces at play.

I honestly had no idea that some of the major Chiefs players supported trump until today. Just before I started writing this, in fact. I didn’t know trump wanted them to win either.

There was a bad taste in my mouth when I found that out.

I don’t consider myself to be a fanatic fan. But I am a proud fan. Someone once called me a bandwagon and I got offended.

But. But.

I am not a fan of this. Of the support and cozying up to of fascism, racism, queerphobia, you name it. It boggles my mind too because there are Black players on the Chiefs, there are Black players who CARRY the NFL’s legacy on their backs, and to support the trump administration is to take away their support.

You know what I am a fan of?

The political message of Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show.

I have never listened to any of Kendrick’s discography. I’ve never really been all that into hip hop or rap (my whiteness is showing I know).

Honestly, while I was watching, a lot of what was going on flew over my head. And I also had a hard time hearing the lyrics 🫣 again, not used to this genre of music 😅

But that’s what I thank tumblr for. Tumblr always has a way of bringing the unknown into the spotlight, and expanding my own knowledge on it.

I am very much not knowledgeable on the Black history surrounding Kendrick’s performance. But looking back, with a fresh set of eyes, what I do know and have put in effort to learn starts to be clear.

And I think it was genius. I think Kendrick Lamar’s performance is what saved this Super Bowl for me because I am vastly disappointed in my team right now, and still would have been even if they won.

I do not begrudge the Eagles their win. After all, this was a rematch 😜 Only fair you have your time to shine.

But in all seriousness, I think I prefer a loss to a win simply because I would not be able to enjoy that win knowing what I do now.

Besides. if it comes with the bonus of trump’s night being ruined? having to live with spending TAXPAYER MONEY (my money!!) to go and watch the game only to leave halfway through because Kendrick called him out? good. I can handle the sidelong taunts about the Chiefs and their bad decisions. I am mature enough to see that.

I am mature enough to see that an Eagles win, packed with Kendrick Lamar ripping the right a new one, is a win for us all — Chiefs fans included.

The next four years will be tough. But with such a spectacular performance? The trans flag? The Palestine and Sudan flag? Everything?

I think we have what we need to keep fighting. Kendrick, Chappell Roan, Lady Gaga, all of these artists lending their voices to support those who will be grievously impacted by what comes next is so important, especially at events like the Grammies and the Super Bowl. It shows that people care.

It shows that we can always care.

It’s just a game, yeah. But now it’s so much more.

[shorthaltsjester]

sorry it so truly laughable to me to look at campaign 3 and determine the success of the stories therein based on screentime like. disregarding the fact that i personally take c3 to be the least valuable in terms of stories told, particularly ones about romantic love, for the moment: on principle it’s goofy as hell to think that a large amount of hours = a story that has something to say let alone something meaningful to say. like, yasha and beau, for example, have a fairly small amount of hours due to the fact that a) ashley missed half the campaign b) they were also generally slowburn, and while that influences the depth of certain aspects of the story, the time spent with yasha and beau has little to do with how meaningful their story is. it wouldn’t matter if they had 10 hours of screen time or 100 if what is in question is the story told; yasha’s story as someone chained by grief choosing to move on & beau’s story as someone angry after a life of being treated like shit finally getting justice for the wrongs done to her which both conclude in their campaign’s finales aren’t successful because I can launch some meaningless number of how many hours it took them to take build those stories together into the ether and say “they did this for women’s rights” just because two women existed beside one another. both yasha and beau resonate as stories that have a significant feminist read because they both deal with fantasy versions of things extremely relevant to women in a way that maintains their agency without shirking their responsibility, and they are particularly strong stories about queerness not simply because they’re two women who fuck but because they deal with emotional themes relevant to queer experiences — anger and grief — and how, while the reasons for those emotions are grounded ones, they both choose to grow beyond the boundaries they allowed those emotions to enforce in their lives.

further, the notion of screentime for a show that takes care to show all of the players on screen at a time in a medium where the player/character distinction isn’t always clear is such a subjective calculation and on top of being a stupid justification for ‘success’ or ‘value’ of a story, is also easy to manipulate to your favour.

it’s just, the screentime for im*dna’s relevance and success doesn’t ring true to me just because it’s a bad reason. but further it just isn’t persuasive. i don’t care if i see someone for 1000 hours or 1, if a story resonates it will do so with any amount of time. whatever amount of screentime they’re calculated to have does nothing to repair or hide the fact that their story as a couple says very little of value in the text, without whatever fanfic extrapolation has taken place (and to be clear, this isn’t to say fanfic can’t be valuable, it’s to say that the character explorations you do in fic or in meta for that matter doesn’t mean that analysis or elaboration is canon). like. halfway through the campaign, before they got together, imogen told laudna “our weirdness is what makes us right” and laudna agreed verbally but now 1 billion hours of screentime later or whatever, laudna has still failed to integrate that belief into her, which is made obvious in a scene after the divine intervention that ties laudna’s life to imogen’s when imogen tells laudna she’s grateful she got to hear the music of laudna’s thoughts, and laudna’s response is “it was probably a bit of the insanity, honestly”, something which on paper might read like a joke but in the moment is played like a (maintained from hours upon hours previous) dismissal of what imogen is saying she values about laudna, evident in the way laura/imogen deflates when she says “well, it was pretty…”. and simply because it’s been a trillion hours of screentime that’s supposed to be representative of a relationship in which the characters help each other to grow.

(addendum to say that stories that are about stagnancy can be just as valuable as stories about growth, but textually and by the sections of fandom im critiquing here, imogen and Especially laudna are treated as a relationship that grows)

truly, if anything, counting up as many hours as possible to dictate the success of imogen and laudna’s story actually ends up working against the story. because i’d probably be more forgiving of the stagnancy if it was a shorter story, but knowing that they had so many hours and still failed to deliver a story with actions and behaviour that matched the claims the characters would make and the tropes/themes that would get applied to them, that makes it worse.

[plumeria1]

The taste of love

Masterlist

Note: Today it's Pit Fighter Vi who continues this special Valentine's Day week.

Pairing: Pit Fighter Vi x Fem Reader

Content: Fluff

Warning: None

Summary: You hope Vi's gonna like your gift

Vi was coming home with a small smile on her lips. She had spent almost every evening this week fighting in the pit to have enough money to give you a gift for Valentine's Day.

She often came back with blood on her face and bruises all over her body, but she reassured you by saying it was nothing.

"You should see what state the other guy ended up in," she always said while laughing. But she could see that you were still worried, so she would kiss you on the forehead and hold you in her arms.

As she approached the door, she heard music coming from inside and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Weren’t you supposed to be there several hours later? So, what were you doing there already?

She opened the door gently and smiled at you when she saw you. You were moving your head to the rhythm of the music, which made your ponytail sway as you stirred something in a pot. Something that smelled really good.

She took advantage of the fact that you hadn’t noticed her to enjoy the show. You were wearing knee-high socks, your red shorts hugged your butt perfectly, and they were almost completely hidden by the t-shirt you had stolen from her a long time ago.

You let out a scream when you put out the fire and turned around, seeing her looking at you. You quickly turned down the music and said:

-Vi! You’re already home?

-It seems so. But don’t stop on my account, I was enjoying the show.

You had a troubled look and glanced at the pot behind you.

-You were supposed to come back in two hours. This was supposed to be a surprise.

She looked behind you to see what you were cooking. Apparently, that was the surprise you had just mentioned, but it was strange. It wasn’t the first time you had cooked for her, so why say it was a surprise?

-What’s in there?

-Uh... your Valentine's Day gift. I know you didn’t want me to spend too much money on your gift, so I thought I’d make this for you.

She headed toward the pot, sure she recognized that smell. When she saw the contents of the pot, she understood exactly where she recognized that scent from.

-I tried to reproduce it as best I could with the information you gave me. I’m lucky Loris knew the recipe, so he was willing to help me.

Vi wondered how she could have forgotten that. The dish her mother used to make when Vi and Powder were sick. She always said it gave them strength and helped them heal.

With a small smile, you handed her a spoon.

-You wanna taste it?

She took it gently and dipped it into the pot. When she tasted the dish, she felt as if she had become a little girl again, thinking about her family and the good times they had all spent together. The taste was slightly different from her memories. It wasn’t her mother’s dish, but you had put in a lot of effort to make it resemble it.

When she put down the spoon, she looked at you and saw the nervousness in your eyes, worried about whether she liked it or not.

-So? What do you think?

-It's incredible, thank you, angel.

She took you in her arms and ran her hands along your back while you did the same, smiling.

-I'm glad you like it.

-How long did it take you?

-Almost all week. I took advantage of your absence to train, and since Loris had some free time, he came to help me.

She laughed, imagining Loris in the kitchen.

-Now I understand where he was disappearing to all the time.

You laughed inwardly as you remembered how Loris almost gave himself indigestion from tasting all your attempts because you always thought they weren’t perfect.

-It's a shame you saw it now. I had planned a romantic dinner.

-Oh, really?

-Yes, I would have lit some candles, played a bit of music, and surprised you with this meal.

She saw that you seemed to care about this surprise.

-How about we skip the candles and music and just have dinner, just the two of us?

She started kissing you on the neck.

-And after that, we’ll go to the room and I’ll give you your gift.

You sighed. She knew exactly how to make you go crazy.

-That’s an excellent idea.

With these words, you enjoyed the good meal and a quiet evening until Vi took you by the hand and led you into the room where you spent a very tumultuous night.

[archangeldyke-all]

Hello! I really REALLY love your writing, can I please ask for more ranvika and reader? Maybe about before they got together, how reader and ran make out around her and what she thinks, or when she walked in on them having sex, and her fantasizing about them? Or really anything you wanna write about them

HEHEHEHEHEHEH yeah let's do it

men and minors dni

sevika's always had a little bit of a crush on ran, though she'd rather die than admit it.

ran is annoying. they're always joking around and making sevika laugh when they're both supposed to be working. out of all the gang, ran's the least intimidated by sevika's scary scowl-- just snorting and rolling their eyes whenever sevika tries to scare them into shutting up. and they're always touching her-- an annoying poke in her shoulder when they pass in the hall, an excited smack on her back when they win a fight together, and worst of all, a kiss on sevika's cheek when they're drunk and sevika walks them home safe.

but sevika doesn't worry about it, she doesn't act on it. she figures if something will happen between her and ran, it'll happen when they're both old and grey and too tired to fight anymore.

but then you come around.

and ran starts being all giggly and stupid with you.

and sevika can't tell if she's more jealous of ran or you, because you're just as annoyingly attractive to sevika as ran is.

so now sevika's a butthurt mess, heartbroken and yearning for somebody she coulda had for years now, and somebody who looks like her walking wet dream.

it doesn't take long for you and ran to figure out sevika's issue.

she's always glaring at the two of you when you're together, but when you're separate she's all longing stares and wistful sighs. she's like a kicked puppy. a horny kicked puppy.

"how long do you think we can tease her before she snaps?" you ask one night at the last drop. ran giggles against your neck. the two of you are grinding on the dance floor, sevika's eyes laser focused on your bodies from where she's brooding in the corner. ran giggles.

"dunno. thought she was gonna do something today, she kept staring at your lips in morning meeting." ran says. you snort.

"i caught her checking out your ass at the docks today."

ran grins. "well, it's a great ass."

you grin and dart forward, kissing the cheesy grin on your partner's lips away, your hands trailing down from their hips to grope said ass. ran moans in your mouth. you sigh as you pull away. "yeah, it really is."

"you wanna do something stupid?" ran asks. you grin.

"with you? always."

ran shoots a quick glance over their shoulder to where sevika's brooding, then tugs on your wrist, dragging you off the dance floor and toward the stairs in the center of the bar.

you're vaguely aware of the fact that sevika's looming behind you-- stalking's never been a specialty of hers-- but you're too distracted by ran's giggles to care.

they drag you down the hall and toward sevika's office, ignoring the 'keep out' sign on the door, pushing you into the musty little office. it's more like a storage closet-turned office-- nothing compared to the stain glass background of silco's office; but it's so clearly sevika's it makes you coo a bit.

sure, there's the ashtrays full of cigarette butts and the half-empty bottles littering every flat surface. but beyond that it's sevika's in the vibrant purple re-upholstery of the lumpy couch crammed in a corner, the poster of a pin-up girl taped behind her desk, and the half finished game of solitaire spread out on the floor.

"she's gonna kill us." you giggle. ran shrugs and pushes you down onto sevika's lumpy couch.

"or she'll fuck us." they say as they dive on top of you.

you moan against their lips, letting them pin you to the cushions, winding your legs around their hips. for a few minutes, you let ran control the pace of your make out session, but when they duck down to suck a hickey on your throat you catch sight of sevika watching from the doorway, a cigarette lit and forgotten between her lips-- half ash now. her eyes are dark, and they don't look away once they catch yours. in fact, she smiles a bit.

you flip ran over, pin them to the couch, and keep your eyes locked on sevika's as you growl, "get your fucking pants off."

both ran and sevika scramble to do just that.

ran gasps when sevika reveals herself to them, stumbling into her office and slamming the door behind her, nearly tripping over her pants where they're caught around her ankle. "'re you gonna sit on my face?" ran asks dreamily.

you giggle. "which one of us, baby?" you ask as you stand to pull your own pants off

ran blinks, then whines. "i dunno! i wan' both of y--"

you cut them off with a kiss. "how about this, baby? how about i fuck you..." you rearrange your legs so your cunt is hovering over theirs. they whimper. "and sevika sits on your face?"

sevika scrambles to get in position before ran can even mutter out their sweet, dreamy "yes please."

fuck, this is the hottest thing that's ever happened to you. for a few seconds, you're so enchanted by the sight of ran diving face first into sevika's pussy that you forget your end of the bargain.

but then, sevika grunts out a "c-c'mon." and you start your grind against ran.

fuck, they're soaked. or you are. probably both of you. sevika is too, judging by the rivulets of cum trailing down their throat. as you grind against their soft, wet cunt, they moan into sevika's. sevika whimpers.

"you fuckers have been teasing me."

"you're just now realizing this?" you giggle. sevika moans. ran smacks her ass. sevika smacks one of ran's clothed tits in retaliation. you almost cum from the sight. "oh, fuck, sev. you realize you're comin' home with us tonight, right?" you groan, clawing at ran's thigh.

"just tonight?" sevika whines.

you grin and launch forward, smashing your lips against sevika's.

the kiss makes her cum, which makes ran cum, which, of course, makes you cum.

"a-any night you want baby." you whimper.

sevika smiles against your lips, then she jumps. "fuck! knock it off, asshole, i already came!" she scrambles off ran's face and they grin, pussydrunk and covered in her cum. you laugh down at your lover.

"any day, too." ran adds on.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

[shimohyo]

Konfessions

I hate you

I hate you so so so so much.

Your actions make my very skin crawl, your cruel words are my nightmares every night. You make me sick just thinking about you.

I hate what you did,

I hate what you did to them.

You hurt those four, you killed two of them and those you left alive will never be the same.

You took away their pillars of safety, and now they are scrambling for an anchor to ground themselves with.

I hate hate hate how you acted. You acted like you didn’t even care! You didn’t care about the lives you had ruined!

So I hate you. I hate you with either fiber of my being, every bone in my body, every part of me hates you.

But I don’t hate you, do I? I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. It hurts that I love you. I hate the fact I love you because I should hate you. Because my brain tells me that I should hate you but my heart screams and scrambles for an explanation, reason, excuse, anything to justify your actions. To justify loving you.

You hurt so many people for something so so childish and stupid! You killed two people. You mutilated his body just to mess with and hurt his friend so so so much when he saw his best friend missing a head.

And you did that just for some convulsed plot to kill your ‘rival’! You killed her right in front of him. You drove him to stab you! You practically tortured him just to get at her. All for the sake of your stupid delusions!

Loving you feels like a sin. A horrible horrible horrible action. You hurt so many people. So many people I see everyday and talk to and I feel so wrong because I love you and they don’t and I’m in the wrong for loving you still!

….i wish i could just hate you….

….Maybe I don’t love you for you.

Maybe I love the idea of you. The you I thought I knew. The you that you showed to me to keep me on your side. The you that was a mask, just like the one you always wore, hiding your disgusting truth underneath it. 

I hate the True you. The true you you showed everyone except me until the end. The true you who would mutilate a corpse to mess with others. Cut off someone’s head and tongues and disembowel him and oh god I’m about to throw up just remembering it. 

I love your mask, but hate the real you. The you under your mask. The you that is bloodied underneath.

I don’t know if we’re going to be 

Foxes our next lives.

You have a lot of sin to pay for after all.

Maybe I’ll join you down there. 

For the sin of loving someone so terrible.

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

i actually dont even gaf. i dont care if this is old news idc if everyone already noticed it idc if im late on pointing it out idc!!! ive been brainrotting about this for 3 days now and i'm gonna talk about it because oh my god THE IMPLICATIONS I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THEM

Okay so TBOB, great book, canonized billf*rd, "stanley couldve made her laugh" and "but then he crossed the line" yadda yadda, we're all here because stan and bill, the two closest people to ford both call him sixer and are thematic narrative parallels and hey thats pretty god damn brocon of you stanford pines to fuck a triangle that parallels your brother in the story and also calls you the childhood nickname your brother and only your brother calls you. and like thats pretty god damn damning enough

why does he go out of his way to write his and bill's conversations using two different scripts

and why does he write bill's dialogue like that when bill's handwriting looks like this

"maybe its just because ford just wants to give bill a unique handwriting when he writes their conversations it doesnt have to match bill's" yeah sure okay

but it sure as hell isnt unique when he's copying stan's handwriting down cold to the god damn letter

BUT HE DOES.

WHY DOES HE DO THAT. why on earth does he do that. is it subconcious. why does he write bill's dialogue (and i DO mean only bill— he never quotes fiddleford directly in tbob, and uses terms like "he explained" whenever fiddleford tells him something) in STAN'S handwriting. his brothers handwriting. for all this flirty ass exchanges, ford is writing it in his own and his brothers handwriting.

they really, REALLY couldve just easily used bill's personal handwriting for this— wouldve been romantic as hell for ford to get bill's handwriting down in all honesty. but its not its his brothers handwriting. ford is writing all that in STANS handwriting. like is that not fucking crazy

like lets not even cover the fact that in universe he knows how to copy stan's handwriting AT ALL and thats counting the fact that atp hes estranged from stan by about a whole decade. like. HELLO? Stanford pines you obsessive freak brocon you are beyond insane

(and for extra reference, mabel and dipper's handwriting + ford not giving fiddleford any unique dialogue and special handwriting.)

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ] [ p.3 ]

Authors Note: Well, shit. Glad to see this garnered some attention and that you guys liked it 🫡 as per usual please keep an eye on the content warnings and take care of yourselves.

Some more useless history facts nobody wanted:

• Remedies for illnesses in the fifties were a mixture of at-home and rising industry cure-alls. Many people used sponge baths for fevers and hot water bottles for aches while taking their Asprin. It was an awkward middle ground of well-known techniques and modern medicine.

• Nail care was also becoming more popular in the fifties, as with everything in society now that a war was not a concern. In 1954 a dentist was the creator of the first fake / artificial nail since he was tired of his own nails breaking lmao. Most women took care of their own nails and painted them with practice, for the most part. Women also started reshaping their nails in the process of the upkeep!

• The fairs we know today and see as a sort of larger aspect of a season were a lot more deeply involved in the local communities back in the day. Fairs were used to bring many — or just one — communities together and often made a show of selling local goods by those who lived within the county it was held in. It had a large focus on the region’s agricultural culture as well and it wasn’t uncommon to see livestock at these events. This is how some fairs ended up being hosts to many beloved country events that go on today, like rodeos. The classic carnival rides we love were still used even then — but mostly had limited options that included Ferris wheels, bumper cars, the whip, and some games that may or may not still be found in today’s fairs!

• Cotton Candy was invented in 1897 by a dentist and a candy maker. There’s a joke in there somewhere.

• Funnel cake was brought over to the States by the Dutch as drechderkuche around 1879 and they themselves had gotten it after the dish spread in popularity across Europe after initially being dated back all the way to the medival worlds of the Persians known as zalabiyeh. Only in 1947 did it make a grand entrance to the carnival and fair life as a snack of wonder!

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rio’s really done it now. She’s created a monster of herself and broken her most important rule and revealed her lies to you in doing so: her inability to create life. Allegedly. Death becomes your dueling partner as all you can do is grapple for some semblance of control between her moments of appearance as she works double time to keep you — and now whatever she thinks grows inside of you — alive.

Content Warnings: Dark, so expect the usual — internalized homophobia and gender norm expectations in flashbacks, panic attacks, self-harm [ not graphic but it’s there ], angst, forced impregnation, misuse of magic [ Rio, always Rio ], manipulation, obsessive behavior, threats of violence [ R —> Rio ], Stockholm Syndrome taking effect, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES

Word Count: ~5.2k

2024

You awoke with the curtains pulled open and the sun glaring across your face which really only added to the pounding in the front of your skull that welcomed you back to the world of the living.

Gods — it wasn’t just your head that pounded. Your entire body felt like a dump truck came through the house and just meandered over your unconscious body and left behind whatever was left of you.

The pain alone was almost enough to convince you to go back to sleep, to try and escape it longer and what you knew it would mean by getting up.

Because you remembered last night — down to what Rio had whispered to you with deadly promise and such conviction that it still was too much for you to think about right now.

You should have known better trying to kill Rio. You were smarter than that, most days. You knew to some extent how powerful she was and that you had no true capability to so much as give her a paper cut if she didn’t allow it.

You drew your arm from under you and rested your forehead against it, still facedown against the pillows and refusing to move from your position. That would be . . . It would be admitting a lot of things to yourself, never mind Rio.

The wetness on your skin is how you found out you were crying. Quiet tears, falling directly onto your arm before your brain could catch up with the severity of your emotions.

You dug your teeth into the skin of your arm to silence any noise that would dare try to leave your chest. These tears would have to come and go without trace, and this would be your only acknowledgment that they were ever there at all.

Your body shook only slightly as you willed your crying to end and just let the anguish and loneliness be your friends for this single moment before you had to return to this endless game of brutality with Rio.

When you could cry no more and you were sure you could breath without shuddering, you pulled your teeth from your arm and assessed the damage.

You had dug in deep enough to bruise — it was already turning red and had left deep tracks, unforgiving in the proof of your inability to hold your emotions in.

You wipes the wetness from your arm and did not wince when a throb from touching the mark was returned. It was a small price to pay, and it would be a good grounding-point to slip out of bed.

At least your emotions were back to normal. . . They were regulating now.

That’s what you told yourself as you sat at the edge of the bed and stared at the plants on the shelves across from you on the wall.

The ache between your legs that matches the one deep in your chest beyond flesh and bone were ones that you knew well — from your previous marriage and then with Rio. Both with positive and negative connotations attached — at first.

Now you weren’t sure there was anything left to recover from those feelings. Not when you could reach up to your neck and practically touch the hum of magic that kept you tethered to her.

You flexed your fingers and dug them into the mattress as you tried to even your breaths again. The tears were long gone, but the breathing —

She took, took, and took and never once thought that she was taking. She only cared what it did for her and how it made her happy, to appease her immortality? The despair it brought with her to be alone so long?

You hated that it was you.

You used to love that it was you.

But the thing with Rio is that her affections are animalistic and not grounded in how it will hurt everyone else. You realized that when she collared you the first time and you had to escape under the cover of night and get the magic removed quietly and quickly.

She is selfless in her selfishness and that is her most dangerous attribute. A patient hunter who knows the game after a long time playing it.

“Mow.”

Billy was sitting in front of you, just inches away with intense eyes and his fluffy tail curled at his paws. He seemed almost curious.

You unclenched your fingers from the sheets and reached out, offering a hand passively.

He blinked at you, owlish, then stood and rubbed his head against the stretched hand and down your arm. Loud purrs soon filled the quiet surroundings and his tail vibrated as he chirped at you.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him, watching his flank ripple as your fingers ran through it. Your mind was quickly able to release despairing thoughts and the pit that sought to drag you deep.

A loud mrow was your response and you took that as an initiative to stand and find something comfortable to wear and pointedly ignore the pain left behind by Rio and ignore the fact that it was as though she was never there at all.

1954

You hid upstairs long after Rio had returned from her job. You folded laundry and ironed some, then refolded others again. When that was done and you couldn’t really make an excuse to just constantly fold laundry repeatedly, you locked yourself in the bathroom you had been using and decided to “organize”.

You had heard her inquiring calls from downstairs and had chosen to ignore them in hopes she would . . . Well, you weren’t entirely sure. Your mother’s news had been unsettling and left a sour taste in your mouth.

Why did you have so many lipsticks, now? You had five in your palm and three on the ground where you sat on your knees. They were in varying shades of reds and pinks and relatively new — all from Rio. She sometimes liked to bring you gifts from the store.

Did you really care how many you had? Did it matter?

Your mother said Rio was never married — no records of it were recorded in the archives, no official obituary to be found under the name Vidal. You supposed she could have returned to using her maiden name . . . But —

“Angel?” A rap to the door shook you out of your thoughts and the lipsticks clattered to the floor.

“Shoot,” you murmured and began to scoop all of them up hastily, “h-hang on, Rio. I’ll be just a moment.”

“It’s no problem, sweetheart, really. I was just concerned when you didn’t come to see me when I got home.”

You stacked everything back into place and lifted the container before setting it back into the medicine cabinet-mirror duo and shutting it. Your reflection startled you.

You had regained some flush to your cheeks and a light to your eyes after the death of your husband — even you could see it without it being pointed out. Nobody did, though. It would’ve meant implying something — something that was never meant to be discussed in the open.

But even as you stared at yourself you could hardly believe the difference that you found in your reflection.

“. . . Sweetheart?” Rio prodded from behind the door, tone gentle but more firm.

“I’m sorry, Rio.” You pushed off the sink and unlocked the door, swinging it open and smiling at her. “I haven’t been myself today. I think I’m just a little under the weather.”

She softens and steps closer to you, eyes roaming over you. The inspection felt intimate and you shelved the way it made you feel and reminded yourself that those feelings aren’t natural . . . And you were just a mess in general.

She seemed to be satisfied with whatever she found and leaned against the doorway. “You should’ve called me. Maybe I could’ve brought something home — heated lemonade is all the rage for colds right now.” She rubbed her hands together.

You smiled meekly. “That’s sweet, thank you, but it really only started when — oh, perhaps after I left lunch with Mother.”

She tilted her head, a black strand of hair floating from her updo. “Oh I remember you telling me you were meeting up with her. I’m glad you did — it was a beautiful day.”

You looked away from her and fiddled with your fingernails. Once nervously bitten and torn, now kept well-managed under Rio’s careful eye and money as she ordered you to a woman in town who knew how to do them from her home. You brought your own polish, but she did well with keeping them intact for you.

“It was a good lunch,” you answered carefully. “She — my mother has my best interests at heart.”

“Of course she does,” Rio agreed easily, pushing off the doorway and considering you with that gentle look of hers. “Did something . . . Did you two talk about something difficult?”

You didn’t immediately answer because you weren’t sure you wanted to go down this road with the other woman, in truth. She had been so helpful and the shame that filled you for feeling so useless and meek coiled tight inside of you.

But somehow you found yourself telling her anyway, without considering how you wanted to word it, “We talked about . . . My husband. Settling his affairs, mostly. Making sure I won’t see trouble down the road.”

Rio relaxed slightly as she eyed you. “That’s good, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have been so distressed during that period if I’d had my mother to help me.” She smiled a little, her silent support.

But if your mother was right in that Rio never had a husband — much less a husband that died in the war — then why would she be going through all of this trouble? How did she manage to make you feel so less alone in the agony you’ve been clawing your way out of?

“She’s been wonderful,” you say to her, reaching up to fidget with an earring. Her eyes followed the movement with hawk-like observance.

“Anything else that seems to be on your mind, angel?” Her head tilted slightly, curious and full of wonder. Like she was having a hard time getting a read on you — and maybe she was. Your moods weren’t subject to change so often and this one in particular was rare after moving with her.

“No, no just that.” You released the earring and smiled at her fully, returning to the present to be with Rio fully. “I’m sorry I wasn’t downstairs to greet you. I just got so caught up in finishing some things up here. I have so much lipstick, Rio . . .”

Her gaze drifted to the cabinet thoughtfully then slipped back to you. “Put some on — and dress somewhat warm,” she finally told you, unstrapping the straps that hooked over her shoulders to her pants. “Something pretty for me.”

Your cheeks heated even as you frowned at her. “What ever for? It’s such a waste to use when we’re not going anywhere.”

Rio chuckled. “Angel, we are going somewhere. The fair’s in town, remember? You’ve been eyeing the newspaper article on it all week.”

You brightened considerably in front of her, darting forward to grasp her arm. “Really? We’re going to the fair? You’re sure?”

The black-haired woman grinned down at you, tilting your chin up with a finger, “Very sure — if you can get ready before the field fills up on parking.”

You nodded rapidly and pulled back, filled with a sudden renewed vigor. “Oh I have the perfect scarf I’ve been waiting to match with that pair of pants you got me. The ones with red stripes.”

“You’ll look beautiful, I’m sure.” Rio winked at you and you made a point to ignore the weird fluttery feeling that crossed your chest at the action.

You’d felt that once — an old boyfriend who kissed you under the stars on top of his brand new Chevrolet before he returned you home and made sure to leave some of those stars in your eyes.

You’d married that boy once upon a time, and it ended up nearly destroying you later.

Rio left you to get changed and you busied yourself with finding the perfect outfit for such an outing. It was chilly outside during the day and so you expected it to be even more so overnight. It wouldn’t be wise to go out without layers, even if you planned on some festive rides to warm you up.

Oh and you so hoped they had spiced apple cider that they kept warmed at the stalls like they’ve been doing in the recent years. The drink was dangerously addictive and you indulged in the past when your husband inclined to go with you to the fairs. It always left a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest after having a cup.

You were just pinching the scarf carefully into position when Rio reappeared. She hadn’t changed completely from her work attire, but she did cozy up. She made no move to disguise roaming eyes.

“Hmm I worry for the wandering gazes I may have to hide you from tonight,” she muses lazily.

You despised the way she managed to made you feel things a woman should never feel from another of her gender — despised that you were drawn to the way she somehow carried herself like she owned the world and could protect you from its’ angry realties. Despised the way she wasn’t a man and therefor kissing her is not allowed, not desired.

You despised how you were forced to feel the disgust in your stomach at how heavy with want it left you when you saw her and found what you could never give your husband.

“Perhaps I will be able to catch the eye of a wealthy man,” you got out, refusing to meet her eyes and instead finding your own in the mirror. “And you will surely catch the finest of attentions. You could have anyone you wanted and not blink before it was in your hands.”

Rio hummed at you. The footsteps on the flooring creaked until she was still behind you, chin just brushing over your shoulder as her eyes forced yours to meet together in the mirror. You were trapped between her and the sink, unable to escaped unless she willed it.

Or maybe you just made no effort to try.

“You speak as though I yearn for another man to warm my bed,” the black-haired woman crooned lowly, ruby red lips twisting upwards mockingly, “to handle my finances and give me the world.”

“Surely every woman wants that — wouldn’t you get tired of working?” you asked her boldly despite the tremble that threatened to shake you down. She was so close and you feared she would hear your heart’s cries if she got any further.

“Angel,” she started, the same tone, eyes becoming mischievous and glittering under the light above, “why would I seek out that which I want from a man when I can just get it myself?”

Your throat constricted and for a moment there was a terrible feeling you were a prey to a dangerous, deadly predator.

Rio. This was Rio — your only friend, the woman who shielded you when you nearly crumbled under the weight of the world when you realized what being a woman without a husband meant.

“I just — Rio?”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you have any pictures of him?” you asked as you fought off the urge to sink into her from where you held onto the surface like a lifeline. “Your . . . Your husband. You’ve not told me his name, and you don’t even have photos of him.”

Her fingers reached up to capture a stray wisp of your hair that had fallen from the position you’d had it in. She held it delicately and observed it, wrapping it around her pale finger.

“Rio?”

She tugged suddenly and it left a minor sting when she did. Then she released it, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness opposite of the previous action.

“His name and face live in the past and I seek to march into the future,” she finally told you, however no warmth remained in her voice. Only clear, concrete assurance. “Having either in my present keeps me from which I aim to go, so I decided a while ago to put him to rest for good.”

She moved away from you in order to give you some space and tucked a hand into one of her pockets. “Don’t take too long, Angel. I want to ride the Ferris Wheel with you while the stars are bright.”

She was gone and now alone, you tried to process what she laid before you but found that nothing was answered when you asked her those questions.

2024

You peeled open a can of wet food and scraped it into the fancy cat bowl Rio had conjured up. The little shit had dry food still full, but seemed to think he needed the good stuff two times a day.

Leaving him to scarf down his breakfast, you opened the French doors in the dining room. The dining room which, by looks of it, had been meticulously put back together as though you and Rio hadn’t tried to rip one another to shreds.

You weren’t entirely positive you could claim much of the damage anymore, though, looking back. You had the human ability to shove, break, and throw but Rio was above that in ways that made your predator senses switch into the brain of prey. It made you think of a time you saw a program — a lynx playing with its prey right before it decided to kill it.

Rio had been playing with you — perhaps leaking some frustration without realizing it. But you were stupid to believe that you could have the upper hand in any regard.

Your hand drifted up to your neck and rested there as the hum from the magic collar vibrates against your fingers, a warning that you were touching the invisible but powerful mechanism that kept you caged to this place. To her.

The bird feeders outside caught your attention from the open doors. Ten birds of varying colors, chirping happily and fluttering about as they picked their way around the feeders you filled the day before.

Was this to be your life now?

What did Rio intend to tell you about the status of your job? It wasn’t . . . It wasn’t like you adored it but it kept you busy, you sort of enjoyed it on some days.

A huff greeted you to your right.

Your eyes drifted to the source of the sound and knew it wasn’t Billy — who felt he was too sophisticated for such a noise and was still tinkering about in the kitchen with his bow and bell collar.

No — no, this was not him.

Instead a new object has been tucked into the corner of the dining room. A large, fluffy dog bed of a soft brown coloring and cream innards.

The source of the sound was the sleek looking canine laying there, head on paws and eyes watching you closely.

“A dog,” you said aloud as the two of you stared at each other. He was a light brown with black markings on his long legs and face. Pointed ears and a thin, long tail.

You’ve seen these dogs before — you knew they were used mostly in the military and police force. Similar to the German Shepard but smaller and leaner.

She got you a fucking protection dog — and she did it to taunt you. Because she knows not even the most trained, intelligent dog will be able to keep her from.

“Okay.” You got to your knees and the sun soaked into your body from doorway. The dog watched you. You watched him. He already had a thick leather collar with tags on it and it made you wonder if, like you and possibly Billy, she took him too. “Who are you?”

He didn’t respond, of course.

You got back to your feet and hesitantly made your way over. He lifted his head to watch you until you bent down next to him and carefully scratched behind his ears. He seemed to like it, and so you flipped his tag to read his name. TOMMY was stamped into the gold metal.

“She did you an injustice with that name,” you told Tommy, but kept petting him anyways. He sighed.

You eventually left Tommy alone to nap and went out to sit in the garden, your heart heavier now. The way she used things as a way to mock you was like an extra knife digging deeper and deeper each time she added a new aspect.

You sit for a while then make some coffee and down some plain toast to fight the nausea. You hated how lonely the house you were caged to felt but refused to break and call out for Rio to end the feeling.

You would bear it rather than face her and yourself and the night before. It was all too much and it would explode eventually, with angry sobs and violence like it always did.

But until she forced you out of your self-induced exile of silence and singularity, you would pretend like you’ve handled it and it’s over.

Even if it would never be over.

Rio heard naught when she returned from her duties that night. The lights were on but there was a lack of cooking to be found. None of the smells that brought her a great deal of comfort when you were behind the stove, no warm smile to greet her, and certainly no kiss to the cheek or anywhere else.

“Angel?” she called out, but was only greeted by the dark and watchful eyes in the kitchen’s entryway by the animal she had bestowed upon you before leaving that morning.

He stood stock still and regarded her with a type of cunning that almost made her wonder if she should’ve gone with a dumber breed to avoid issue. His hackles were raised down his spine and a low, vibrating growl was echoing through his chest.

Rio simply stared back at him. “I brought you into this house, creature,” she told him, continuing closer. “Angel please call off the dog.”

“No.”

Ah, so you were just feet away as suspected. A small grin pulled at the corners of Rio’s lips as she came to a stop just inches from the stiff dog. His tail was as rigged as the rest of him — and though Rio didn’t know dog language relatively well, she knew the universal language for “I do not fucking like you.”

“I don’t want to have to take him away after giving him to you so soon, my sweet,” Rio started sweetly, fingers reaching out to the curled lips of Tommy. Her tone hardened, “But I will if you can’t keep him in line.”

There wasn’t a reaction given to her in the first few seconds after she spoke, and the dog had become more hostile in those seconds. Rio was ready to snap him into another room and use that fear when she heard a soft, call.

“Tommy, come.”

Like a flipped switch and without any effort the dog seemed to rear away from Rio as quickly as he had been ready to try and maul the witch. He trotted back into the kitchen and so the pale figure followed.

He curled at your feet where you were rewarding him with slices of raw meat mixed in a metal bowl, prepped ones seemingly laid out for burgers ready to be grilled at any point.

Tommy took the offered pieces carefully from your fingers as you locked gazes with Rio.

“I see you two have bonded once you’ve made your introductions,” Rio concurred as she opened the refrigerator and looked through the contents. All of the bear she had to magic back in was once again gone.

Rebellious, angry little thing you were. It didn’t matter. She waved her hand and a cold beer appeared between her fingers instantly.

“Is there never consequences for what you do with that? you asked her quietly from across the room.

“Mm.” She slowly makes her way over to you, a twinkle of something dark and insidious covering her features. “There’s a consequence in everything of this universe, Angel. If you tie your shoes the wrong way, it can have a massive impact on someone else in another world.”

“Then why the fuck do you be so careless? I never asked — not before when I thought I could love you. But now that I know there’s always a price to the things we do . . . Why?”

The anger, the rage she fell so deeply for — she felt the fire in her chest when she saw a flicker of it again. “Because I can,” she told you simply, lifting the bottle to her lips. “I can, so I did. I have the opportunity and why would I leave it untouched?”

Your hands slammed on the table. “Because it means for every day I get to live someone else dies early!”

Rio rolled her eyes. “Is that what this is about? How long do you plan on mourning over the ones you never know about that take your place? They’re nameless to you and can’t bring the guilt that bears your name.”

“Because it’s my life, Rio,” you bit out. She looked closer and realized you had been crying, “and my ticket was punched a very long time ago but for some reason you won’t take it. You refuse my entry every damn time, and then you play with magic and ignore that it has its own prices and can—“ you suddenly pressed fingers to the bridge of your nose and breathed out shallowly.

Rio removed the rim of the glass from her lips, taking care to observe your actions. You stood without saying a word, eyes closed, as you experienced whatever it is went through your body while Rio simply watched.

And smiled.

1954

The music and the lights were overwhelming in the best of ways. There was so much joy to be found and the giggles of children darting through the crowds covered in cotton candy and fisting sacks of what you assumed to be allowances to go and play games.

You kept a polite distance from Rio despite the pestering urge to hold her hand and lean into her for warmth during the cold night.

You wished you could be a couple — but it simply wasn’t possible. So you maintained your space and pointed out stalls to stop at as she kept an unmoving look of amusement on her face.

You were elbow-deep in overly powdered dish that you’ve never tried — colorfully labelled the Funnel Cake — and you found that it was almost on par with your apple cider drinks you adored so. Rio seemed fascinated with it as well and the two of you shared the one you bought.

You did find the cider you so sought and made Rio get one too, even after she complained of having a full stomach.

“It’s rather good, Rio,” you begged as the two of you stood in line. “If you don’t like it, I’ll just drink your share.”

She arched one perfectly sculpted brow at you as a smile rose to greet you. “Oh, you will will you?�� she asked.

The shine in your eyes must have been answer enough, because she ordered two of the drinks but ended up finishing half of it.

She seemed to enjoy it, but relinquished it to you on the claims that she couldn’t possibly fill her stomach any longer.

“More for me,” you commented like you’d gotten away with stealing something valuable. Rio barked out a laugh as her arm brushed against yours.

It was entirely too true that right now, you had no cares about how close she was. You were having fun with her and she with you as you talked and drank cider.

She won a little bottle game that was 50¢ a turn and she didn’t have to spend another quarter in order to fetch you a duck you had pointed out.

“How did you do that so well?” you asked her, beaming as you held the stuffed toy like gold. “I’ve seen children run screaming from their parents once they emptied their pockets.”

Rio tapped her temple. “All in the head, Angel. I wanted to win, so I won.”

“If only it were that easy!”

She simply smiled those red lips at you and pulled you toward the Ferris Wheel. The stars had become as bright as they could be while the fair was open and she wasted no time in deciding on what she wanted to finish it off with.

“Do you fear heights?” she asked you as she waited with two quarters in hand, back of the line.

“No,” you said, and you liked to think you were right in your belief. “No, I don’t think so. Not if I feel like there’s not a reason to be afraid of them.”

If you hadn’t been so focused on the way the wheel was spinning with its flashing lights, you might have been able to catch how Rio seemed to think over your words. But as quickly as the line went, so did your conversations and laughter.

The teenager in a red and white striped shirt waited expectantly at the till as Rio uncapped her hand over his to drop the two coins into his palm.

He led you both through the gate blocking access to the ride and waited for the Wheel to stop until a car came down and emptied the contents of its seats. Then he hastily ushered you in and pulled down the security bar.

“Hands and feet inside, no wiggling around,” he said with a sigh. “Enjoy the ride.”

Rio was startlingly quiet on the way up as she and you both took in the view. It was truly breathtaking -- and you could both see Westview in all it's small twinkly lights the higher up you rose.

Rio nudged you with her wrist. "I can see the house."

"You cannot," you scoffed at her, leaning into her to try and get the same view as she was.

Before you realized what was happening, an arm was being wrapped around your shoulders and you were being tugged close.

"Rio." You tried to tug away from her, a small swell of panic rising as you glanced around. You were close to reaching the top of the ride and the closest to the stars you would ever be for the first time. "Rio, the people above us can see."

"They can't," the older woman murmured as she bent her neck down to look at you, squeezing your hip reassuringly. "I wouldn't let them. It is just us."

"The people below . . ." you glanced down, wondering if the other cars would be able to see and hear you.

"Stop." She lifted your face to yours and gave you the softest of expressions. "Hey. It's okay."

And then she leaned down to kiss you.

Rio and Reader will return in Part 4

PART FOUR