#dash: bianca.
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artesiasarchive · 2 years ago
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FACES OF THE 90S... so RAW !
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extravagantliar · 1 month ago
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"So...Bianca." Alanari can't profess to understand the intricacies of whatever lies between them, nor will they try. All that's on offer is a listening ear. "You want to talk about it?"
No, he doesn't.
He's been...avoiding it for fifteen years.
Well, maybe not fifteen years - ten, maybe?
It didn't start and end in the same breath; Like most things, it cried and lived for a while. It flailed before failing and falling around him. Well, everything cried, lied, and then died—that was humanity; after all, that was life.
He doesn't want to talk about it.
About how she took up a forge in Lowtown, how she was his first stop when his hands first landed on fourteen, before she had a name. Before, he had a brand on his chest, while he was just some random, beardless dwarf strutting through Lowtown, two bracers, no tattoos, no ties on his clothes, and he had been strutting - to be fair, if he had been Bianca, he would have ignored him as well, maybe even called for someone, maybe shot at him. She never shot at him, rather grabbed him by the collar and threw him.
She had a bow as tall as she was and a knife as long as his forearm; well, he did always like a woman that could kill him - well, that followed him long after this. No, he, had been on his back, staring up at her, a smirk ever present on his features. She had snarled at him like he was the cause of all the problems, well - if he was honest, and he rarely was, especially at this time of his life, he would have agreed that he was the rabble, the trouble that haunted her first forge, the reason he got the apartment in Lowtown to begin with.
He doesn't remember if she ever visited; he knows he kissed her, at least once. She punched him for it; she called him an idiot, a fool, a rake, and he agreed to every title smittenly, laughing as she layered on each one.
It didn't matter how he laughed, how she did the same, how they raced the rain, how they raced more than that and ended up betting on losing dogs.
Life doesn't care about trite things like love, like loss, like promises made in the dark, like promises made by a forge as Bianca confessed her marriage was arranged, how it had hit the floor like glass - shattering across the forge, how his words had been a foolish proposal, no ring, nothing - just a way out and a man that didn't even mean the words he said ( he had meant them in the moment, he had meant them in that instant, but she hadn't said a thing ). Then, two broken engagements, three weddings, one she actually made; it was lovely - all Dwarven weddings are, loud and colourful and bright; he was nursing a stab wound and a headache, broken pride and a busted back.
And a cypher he knew by heart, letting him know she still cared.
There was a time even when he would have pressed those letters flat, but now, somewhere between forty and fifty years old, the cypher is something from memory, and the letters are burned after. 
“Well.” Well? Get on with it. “Well…it’s complicated.” He doesn’t ask if Alanari has ever put anything down; people of all kinds rarely do. They just - linger in it, the great thing that all do - regardless of colour, creed, right of birth, or existence. They all live, they linger, they die. Well, they should, at least. He realises that life is increasingly more complicated, with spirits, admissions of life after death, the fade, false starts, and broken bones that heal in incredible ways. 
Get on with it, Varric. 
We don’t have all day. 
“Well.” The pen is put down, and once again, the narrator is begging the subject to get on with it - much like how he begs his own work to agree with him. “The short answer is no.” And it always will be. He doesn’t want to talk about it; he fears he will never stop, like something will uncork in him and spill out - staining white carpets red, staining his own tongue with words he never meant to say. The longer answer is more complicated; the long answer absolves not only him of a world of pain, but also her of someone’s ire. 
He was twenty-five, for the ancestors’s sake, stupid, bold and brash - at least he had grown out of the stupid part. 
For the most part. 
The long part comes next, not spilling, rather - he wrestles it out of his body. “Do you really want to listen to me talk about Kirkwall? Kirkwall from fifteen years ago?” That all but earns him furrowed brows and a displeased look, granted he typically earns that, and he rolls a shoulder at it. Pen ends up back in his inkwell, and he thinks, summoning some memory, not the one that he should be. Rather, he summons one of him in a square, pushing past people with fourteen in hand, like she was on fire or he had stolen her ( he had ). 
“Well, there I was…”
“No.” 
“What do you mean?”
“You’re just going to lie.”
“Well, there I was.” He recants, changing tone, not tense. “It was Lowtown, as well; most of the things that happen to me happen around Lowtown - and she commanded more than a forge, more than a room.” 
“That’s it? That’s the big secret?” 
“I’m setting the stage.”
“You’re saying words, Varric.” 
Their hand comes flat against the table, making him sit straight, reconsider his words, and reconsider his stance on running around the fifteen years, running around the words. “What else would you like me to say?” That he was a fool? He knew, as well as anyone else, that all things end. He could have ended it at any time, well - maybe he was holding his breath. Holding his breath, waiting for something that may never come. It bites, his words, cold around the rim, colder in the centre, “Do you want me to admit that I knew, shit - maybe, but are we digging around here, hoping I say something else foolish?” Rather, it begins; it tumbles out of him like a storm, breaking fresh over the plains and pouring and drenching the land. It turns to mud and loam, rolling with the thunderous waters, churning now. 
“Varric.” 
“No, shit. Here it is; I chased something for fifteen years; I don’t put things down, a pen, a story, central themes in storytelling, Kirkwall, fucking name it. So being a twenty-five-year-old - asshat, I chased something that didn’t need chasing.” Now, it’s chasing you back, just bled red and singing a song he once pulled himself out of - he so thought. He runs a hand down his face. 
“I asked if you wanted to talk about it. Not yell at me.” That statement is true; the anger is unneeded, and he forgets himself. He doesn’t need to strike like some wounded thing, like some caged animal needing to bite, needing to sink his teeth into something, someone, a time he cannot get back to. 
“Shit, sorry, I know. It’s not easy - but you don’t deserve my vitriol.” He backtracks his hand now on the back of his neck. 
“Thank you. And?”
“I - ” Alanari gives him pause,  and what? And indeed? What next, Varric? Spin it away? Explain it away with how Orlais isn’t his favourite place. No, instead, it’s just a muted ending, like everything else in his life - his brother, his mother, his father, Orzammar, his companies, his city, his health, his head, his heart, like everything that beats against the path and every wingbeat that he ignores. “Nothing. And, nothing, Ripples. You don’t always get the ending you deserve or want, even if you want to write things the way you want to.” Sometimes, things slip through, slipping through the pages, and even your intended words get flipped, and the stone cracks under your feet, and you fall through it. 
“So you care for her?” Alanari’s elbow is on his desk at this point, chin in the palm of their hand, eyes boring into his, ripping his words from his mind, and he wants to cast them into the fire; he wants to follow them into the flames as he is pulled apart and examined.
“No.” 
“Var - ”
“Let me finish.” Shit, no one likes a good dramatic pause around here. “I did at one point; some people would chalk that up to a different four-letter - now it’s more of something I’m working on, like a fire going out, it’s slow and dramatic, sometimes an ember pops back to life, sometimes things just stop, but it’s still warm - fond even.” 
If there are words that Alanari has for him, they stay put, and he has earned a look, one he cannot really place; he can’t tell if they’re sizing up a question or him up. Either is fine; maybe they can feed him to the wolves that prowl after the sun dips low. “Anything else, or will we ask another life-altering question?”
“I’m considering it.” 
“You just like to see me sweat, Ripples.” He states, he’s half settled again, half waiting for the other part of the question, the other half of it all. So he waits, pulling a book into his hand, finger running down the spine to give him something to do. 
“Are you alright?” They ask.
The million gold question. 
Is anyone? He nearly says it. Are you? It’s on his tongue as well. 
He doesn’t; rather, he laughs. 
He laughs, he laughs, and he lies. “Yeah, I’ll be just fine.”
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basicknowledge · 5 months ago
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  There's the sense of something... impending that he can't quite place.
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belayadeath-goner · 5 months ago
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pov: your muse takes pictures of bianca
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dogmawd · 16 days ago
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what if I said I have a Scooby Snack?
unprompted & still just as funny — @belayadeaths
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THAT'S EVEN WORSE!!!!!!!!
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petalseas · 1 year ago
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If you get horny on main, I'll be there to clean your sins.
By that, I'll slay you.
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doublebattled · 2 years ago
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"Dude, just once in your life, can you please try not being the most boring, goody-two-shoes ass nerd on earth?"
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terrorbitch · 1 year ago
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@blcssom
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theladymuses · 1 year ago
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Here's Bianca's <3
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keepsmovingforward · 1 year ago
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Also I lost my tags. New tag drop:
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trippinsorrows · 8 months ago
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with me + part twelve
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authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!
i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.
the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.
status: in progress // masterlist
warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes
song inspo: with me by destiny’s child
words: 8k
taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns
“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”
Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”
In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up. 
“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”
Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.
“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”
She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”
“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is. 
In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.
He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing. 
But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.
That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional. 
“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”
“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.
“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—” 
“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”
You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe. 
Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”
“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”
“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”
You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”
“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."
You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”
“Alexis!”
________
You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.
And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers. 
Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.
“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”
“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”
“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”
“How much—”
“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”
“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way. 
It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well. 
He then asks, “do you want more?”
Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.
“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you. 
Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.
But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind. 
And apparently so can he.
“Let’s do it.”
“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body. 
“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”
Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”
He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”
His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”
He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”
You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”
He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”
Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”
That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice. 
“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all. 
Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”
Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”
And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have. 
“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.
The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit. 
“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”
You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”
Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”
His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”
It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”
“No.”
And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away. 
“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.
You know better than anyone how awful that can be. 
He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.
There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself. 
Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.
He still does. ________
“Mama, something is up with Callie.”
You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.
She’s never done that.
But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums. 
Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”
“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”
Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”
Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”
“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”
“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”
A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?
“What does Joe think it is?”
“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.
“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”
You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”
“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”
Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”
Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”
As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t. 
Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”
“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”
You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you. 
You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.
Just not now.
Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.
________
Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.
You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color. 
“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?” 
She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it. 
Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.” 
You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”
It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two. 
Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it. 
You want her to really think about what you’re asking. 
It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”
Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking. 
She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.
“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”
All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.
“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.
“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.
“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.
Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie. 
You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad. 
It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.
“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”
“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes. 
“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”
“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”
“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”
If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.
And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long. 
“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”
She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up. 
So, you have to move in silence. 
Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.
You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.
Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.
You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise. 
________
God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe. 
There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.
“You’ll always have a job here.”
While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.
But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change. 
And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.
You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting. 
“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”
So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride. 
And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.
You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses. 
Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona. 
“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”
And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is. 
Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway. 
Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment. 
And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy. 
It makes your heart swell. 
All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. 
“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”
“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”
She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”
That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters. 
“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.
In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”
Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design. 
Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.”
Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”
“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”
Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.” 
Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.” 
With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.
“Y/N?”
Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old. 
That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.
You keep walking. 
A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”
You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?” 
You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.
Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”
Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”
Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?” 
She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”
“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”
It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him. 
“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”
Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?” 
For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly. 
It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”
Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?” 
She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”
And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”
“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”
And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words. 
You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”
You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot. 
Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.
It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad  because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.
She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother. 
But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.
Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad. 
Mariah can fuck off. 
She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway. 
________
“Mommy.”
Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow. 
“What's up, sis?”
She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place. 
Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos. 
She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”
Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while. 
You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.
You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.” 
She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”
Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”
What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.
“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.
Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play. 
We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea
But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be
“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits. 
If you gave me a chance I would take it
It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it
Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me
When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be
At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.
And that makes it all the more special. 
Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night. 
You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts. 
Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.
Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.
Joe: How do I save this?
Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.
Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.
You: You’re such an old man. 😩 
You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...
You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol 
Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…
You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.
You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. 🙃
Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.
You: You know me so well. 😊
Joe: Of course, baby.
Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.
But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah. 
But now…..
Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege. 
Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.
Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you. 
But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.
Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.
You have all the people you need in your life. 
Mariah can fuck off.
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sarahsedserio · 1 year ago
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PHOEBEEEEEEE!!!!!?!!!
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hunters of artemis 🌙✨
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samheughanswife · 4 months ago
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A friend reminded me of this gem. It links to the start of the press and NYCC in a couple of days.
From the vault.
Ancient but not stale to the dash. A photo not shared here.
Taken by a SiS sister before the start of the day appearances at NYCC. The determined Bianca and SiS had found the cast hotel in NY. This was taken by one of the sisters. Sam prepped and made up. Heavy on the mascara. He was late as usual and was told to hurry up by Caitriona. He still stopped to sign and take pics.
It was at said appearance that Bianca asked the 🎤 drop question - ‘Where will you live after OL’ because home was very much Glasgow. Property purchases adding to permanence.
Both SC were rendered speechless and it was Duncan who answered for them. ‘ You go were the job is’ . The silence was awkward. It wasn’t that difficult to answer! I’m sure someone has the clip.
That is indeed the speculation. Where will they lay their hat.
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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago
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Reaction to a revealing costume
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Wednesday: The one holiday where many people dress in costume. And many people use this as an excuse to dress provocatively. If you were to dress provocatively, her reaction would be one of intrigue. She would have to admit a certain level of curiosity as to why you would make such a bold fashion choice and what it meant for your relationship. Ultimately, she doesn't believe that she would react negatively to you dressing provocatively, as it is your choice and she would respect your individuality.
Enid: She would be very proud to see you dressed up in a revealing costume for Halloween. If it suited your fancy and you liked it, who is she to say you can't wear it? All that she's concerned with is making sure that you are happy and comfortable in your decision. She wants you to feel beautiful and confident no matter what you're wearing.
Xavier: If you have the confidence to want to wear a revealing Halloween costume, he's all for it. In fact, he'd encourage it. he believes in people being true to themselves and embracing their inner beauty, so if you feel sexy wearing a revealing Halloween costume, then he thinks you should wear one. Besides, who doesn't love a sexy Halloween costume?
Rowan: He'd be a little taken aback by the revealing nature of the costume, but if it's something that you are comfortable in and are just having fun with, he would try his best to be supportive and understanding. He would also like to reassure you that even if some individuals might not approve of your choice of costume, he would still see you for all of the wonderful and unique qualities that he knows you for.
Tyler: He's completely fine with it. In fact, he'll think it's kind of hot. And since he's not the jealous type, he doesn't mind if you want to be sexy to other people as long as you come back home to him at the end of the night.
Ajax: He'd be a mixture of excitement, lust, and jealousy. He would be very excited to see you in such a costume and would have a hard time controlling his lustful thoughts. But at the same time, he would feel a dash of jealousy, knowing that other people would be looking at you and that he could not have you all to himself.
Bianca: She would react with excitement that you are having fun and being creative with your wardrobe even if for a night. She would compliment you on the skill with which you assembled your outfit, and ask if you would like to share with her what inspired your choice of costume. She may also discuss the event you are attending, and how you are feeling about it. Overall, she would feel excited to see you experiencing joy in a social and self-expressive way.
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belayadeath-goner · 6 months ago
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Saw this and thought of you https://www.tumblr.com/cocopies/757987498156834816/nokia-archive?source=share
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back when life was just a bit simpler—
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dogmawd · 17 days ago
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CAN I PET DAT DAWG????
unprompted & made me wheeze — @belayadeaths
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"NO!"
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