#dina glitter force

[skellsplace]

Ira and Dina/Ai WIP drawing-

Not me having an au where Dina has temper issues growing up so she grows close to her siblings best friend whom is the literal embodiment of wrath-

especially if Johnny tries to make her be a princess-

Ira is big brother material.

(not ocs) (pls don't steal art if you value your soul-(and even if you don't pls don't steal)

[magical-demigirl]

Someone should write a fanfic about Cure Ace and Regina being sisters bonus points if Ai is in it

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 3: Being So Normal

Ellie Williams x Reader

Horror pushes tears from my eyes as I uncover the corpses of your past relationships. Each of them dead and lifeless as the next. Because that is what you do, you ruin what is good and it makes me miss you less and less as everyday goes by.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends until you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find their way back to each other. On this night some questionable choices lead you to a vulnerable state where you run out of options.

Warnings: Angst / reader has religious issues / drinking / smoking / drugs

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three here!

ELLIE

It wasn't as fun as I thought to watch you fall apart.

The morning after Christmas you left before I even woke, your makeshift bed made. You gathered all of the boxes of shit I collected off your dad's lawn and took off, leaving behind nothing more than a letter thanking my dad for his hospitality. 

When I came back to Northridge a week later it was like I was looking at a new person. 

Everything that had happened was swept under the rug, you lied and told the girls that you had a great Christmas. You started picking up overtime shifts, you were out more than you were at home.

I watch you stumble through the doors at five AM, makeup smeared, hair a mess and the fakest smile I have ever borne witness to, plastered across your face. You worked the closing shift almost every night and would go partying afterwards with your shitty co-workers who enabled this type of ruination.

I saw your stories too, shot after shot, In every single picture you nurse a drink in your hand or a cigarette wedged between your fingers. When did you even start smoking?

Abby and Cat didn't know just had bad you were but Dina was catching on. I remember how she would go out with you at the beginning, in her mind it had just been harmless fun until it was a nightly occurrence she started to get concerned.

It's like you've euthanized the person you used to be.

You can't even stand to be in a quiet room so you will it with nonsense conversation, hardly even words and laugh at your own jokes.

You used to glow. Back in middle school, you glowed like a candle that smelled of pumpkins and lattes, your love felt like sinking into a warm bath, comfort and security. In high school you glowed like the moon, no one could pry their wondering eyes away from your nerve-wracking beauty, gentle and empathetic.

Though now you do not glow, you burn. You burn like the end of a cigarette, the bud fluttering to the ground just to be crushed by the heel of muddy Converse. The spark of a lighter to ignite your stale menthol cigarette, slipped from bony fingers like clumsy matchsticks to the wilderness, to set what once was beautiful aflame.

Fire is only beautiful while it burns, I knew that soon you would smother yourself out to ashes.

I've been nourishing my withering body with 50-cent packets of ramen noodles. 

I know that I'm not well, in fact, I think I've fallen off the rails.

When was the last time I got a full night of sleep? I'm not sure.

My days and nights bleed together and I can hardly differentiate the two. I hate everyone but I'm so starved for love I am searching everywhere for it, I look for it in dingy clubs and roadkill off the side of a highway, the bottom of a solo cup and the arms of one-night stands, I have even learned to lick it off silver knives. They have taken the rosery from my hand and replaced it with hard liquor.

I went out last night to forget like I do every single night. I look to the moon and pretend it is its being with thoughts and feelings, I act like I talk to it and it has said that it shines just for me.

Tonight, I will go out again. I smear glitter over my eyelids and slip into a silver sequin dress that doesn't even fall past my fingertips. I force my scabbed and bleeding feet into white stilettos that are sure to damage them even further. When I look in the mirror I feel a new sense of bitterness, like nicotine on the tip of my tongue, my face is thinning and my eyes are sunken in, dark bags hanging below the dull irisis. I cover it in concealer and bronze my face to help me look some sort of alive.

"Where are you going?" Dina asks me as I walk from my room and towards the front door, she has a tote bag packed up, her car keys in hand.

"The Monarch," I answer, it was a club on the main street, it tended to be the busiest also infamous for sketchy activity. My eyebrows furrow as I look at the tote bag in hand "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Jesse's for the night, " She says, tonight her hair is loose and falling over her shoulders "Are you sure you wanna go out tonight?"

I nod, suddenly feeling vulnerable in my choice of clothing "Yeah," Sensing her judgement, I'm already getting defensive "I'm in college, all I do and go to work and school-

"Who's fault is that?" Dina cuts me off and my words fail me, I don't know what to say. She looks at me with disappointment glinting in her dark eyes.

My phone dings and I check the notification "My ride is here."

"Don't stay out too late."

"I won't," We both know that I am lying.

I have been many things over the years, a pirate, a cowboy, a warrior; over the past five months alone I have been a lonely girl and a saint, now I am a drunk who drowns out her worries in vodka and overly sweet cocktails.

"To being young, dumb, and broke!" Kayla raises her shot, and the rest of the group does the same. The small glasses clink together, and some of the vodka spills before we all swallow them back and slam them back onto the bar.

The central focal point was the expansive dance floor, alive with bodies moving in rhythmic unison. Multicoloured strobe lights cut through the haze, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

The bar, a gleaming expanse of polished metal, beckoned with the promise of libations. Bartenders, clad in stylish attire, skillfully craft cocktails. The mirrored backdrop reflected the kaleidoscope of lights and the animated conversations that unfolded in this hub of social convergence.

Overhead, suspended fixtures resembling metallic sculptures add to the overstimulation.

"Welcome back," The bartender, Mitch, smiles at me, I know him by name now that I've been bouncing around from club to club almost every night. "Long Island ice tea?" He asks, to which I respond with a nod. He's memorized my drink too.

Kayla is beside me while the others have dispersed to dance or converse, she sips a dirty martini. Her beautiful copper hair is styled into loose curls, she is clad in all black, a tube top, a mini skirt and tall boots as well as a slightly oversized leather jacket thrown overtop. She looks like the definition of a cool girl.

Everyone liked her. 

"So how are things with the roommates?" She asks me, her green eyes piercing mine, she has a slight smile on her perfect lips.

"It's fine," I lied, again. I knew Dina was getting tired of taking care of me when I was too drunk to make my own way home, all of the girls that Ellie brought over hated me. I haven't been seeing much of Abby but Cat and I were actually good.

I can tell that Kayla doubts my words but she carries on to another topic "Are you ready to get fucked up tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am," I giggle. Around the curved bar, I see a woman, she's in a red top and black jeans, her hair in a mousy brown shag cut. Obviously, she caught my eye. "Do you think she's gay?"

Kayla discreetly turns to look at the woman, she turns back to me grinning "No shit."

The woman catches me staring at her and smiles at me, of course, she has perfectly straight white teeth and a pretty smile. I sheepishly smile back "Hey, Mitch?" I wait for the bartender to give me his attention "Two shots of Everclear?"

That's how the majority of my night plays out; I dance for a minute, swaying to- not really swaying, I was dancing in a way that became a hazard to those around me then return to the bar to down more drinks.

"Hey," I hear a voice beside me, it isn't one I recognize, and when I face it, I feel my heartbeat pick up. It was the woman I had been eyeing, now that she's this close I can see the freckles scattered on her face. "Do you wanna dance?"

I can't help when my face splits into a smile, "For sure," I slip off the barstool and follow her onto the dancefloor, the lights are orange and hazy or maybe the haziness is caused by my drunken state. The woman says something to me but it's drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud music "What?" 

"I'm Karris," She repeats, smiling down at me.

"Cool!" I say. I followed Karris' lead with the dancing, she had a certain confidence in her. 

I swayed with each ungraceful movement. Karris, the opposite of me is attuned to the music, moved with a confident fluidity that balanced out my careless stumbles. She laughs at my dancing "Here, I'll help you out." She shouts, trying to be heard over the Rhianna song blasting in my ears.

She comes up behind me, snaking her hands down my torso until they find a resting spot on my hips. With a firm grip, she slows me down, and now I'm moving with her, as one.

My sequin dress shimmered with every twist and move, like a mirrorball, I too might hang. As the light shifts I could've sworn I saw Ellie in the face of Karris. 

I felt the liquor hit me all at once and my body became loose, melting into Karris, I'm almost limp against her touch. She's in front of me now and my arms are hooked around her neck while her slim hands lay on her midriff. 

Her eyebrows furrow as she says something to me but once again it it lost in all of the noise, I just laugh, pretending like I heard what she was saying and hoping that it wasn't something about her dog dying.

The pop song changes into some song in French, I can't make out the words. Wait, I aced every French test in high school, I step away from Karris, squinting my eyes as I stand still in the middle of the dancefloor trying to process the lyrics.

 Je veux te voir- I need you, no, that doesn't sound right. I want to see you, that's it. 

 je veux t'avoir- I want to hold you.

I want to hold you? Is that it? When did my French get so rough? I can't even think straight.

I swear on every god I was so drunk that I forgot I was in the middle of a dancefloor, it had slipped from my mind that I was dancing with someone, and all I could think about was my French classes from high school.

Age fifteen - Grade 10

The French lesson seemed to be even more boring than usual that day. Monsieur Cargin was babbling on and on about how there could be a room full of women but if there was one male rat you would refer to them using ils instead of elles. It was the same lesson I had learned every single year in French.

It took Monsieur Cargin thirty minutes to announce the project. "Pour ce devoir, vous écrirez une lettre à un camarade de classe sur vous-même, vous pourrez inclure des informations sur votre famille, vos passe-temps, vos sujets préférés et peut-être un bon souvenir. Si vous êtes ami avec votre partenaire, vous pouvez écrire avec lui sur quelque chose que vous attendez avec impatience. La lettre fera au minimum un paragraphe, je viserais plus haut si vous voulez une bonne note." Easy enough, a letter to a classmate about your self. "Avant de demander, vous pouvez choisir vos propres partenaires."

I look right over to Ellie from across the room after he mentions choosing our own partners, she doesn't meet my gaze though, she looks as lost as ever, rifling through some papers in her binder and I'm not even sure she understood a word of what the teacher said.

Monsieur Cargin lets us begin our project, everyone gets up from their seat to search for a partner; Ellie, seeing that everyone is standing up, gets up as well. I wave her down to my desk, she crouches beside it and asks "What the fuck are we supposed to be doing?"

I explain the project to her while she hangs off my desk and nods at everything I'm saying, giving me her full attention "Do you get it now?"

"Yes." 

The next day we finished writing the letters and had to give them to each other before we turned it in, I gave Ellie my letter first.

Ellie,

Je suis heureux que nous soyons amis, non seulement parce que nos parents nous ont forcés à l'être, mais parce que tu es mon âme sœur dans chaque vie. J'aimerais te parler de moi, mais tu me connais déjà mieux que moi-même, alors je vais juste dire certaines choses que je sais sur toi. Vous avez lu chaque couverture de la bande dessinée Savage Starlight, plus d'une fois. Je sais que vous aimez faire du shopping dans la section hommes des magasins parce que vous pensez que c'est plus confortable même si vous finissez par ressembler à Adam Sandler. Vous détestez les mathématiques même si vous êtes vraiment bon dans ce domaine et vous aimez l'anglais même si vous détestez les études romanesques. Vous parlez à toute vitesse parce que vous avez tellement de choses à dire et pas assez de temps pour le dire, vous chantez comme une église avec une chorale et chaque fois que je vous vois entrer dans une pièce, je ne peux m'empêcher de sourire. J'ai hâte d'entrer à l'université, nous pouvons être colocataires et décorer la maison exactement comme nous le voulons, merci de toujours me supporter.

(Translation)

Ellie,

I'm glad that we're friends, not just because our parents forced us to be but because you are my soulmate in every single life. I would like to tell you about me, but you already know me better than I know myself so instead I will just say some things I know about you. You have read every Savage Starlight comic cover to cover, more than once. I know that you like to shop in the men's section at stores because you think it's more comfortable even if you end up looking like Adam Sandler. You hate math even though you are really good at it and you love English even though you hate novel studies. You talk at a mile a minute because you have so much to say and not enough time to say it, you sing like a church with a choir in it and every time I see you walk into a room I can't help but smile. I can't wait for college, we can be roommates and decorate the house exactly how we want it, thank you for always putting up with me.

I bent the rubric a little bit, talking about Ellie rather than myself but we were really getting graded on our French comprehension, not the subject matter of the letter. Ellie read it through, over and over, nodding her head along and pretending that it made perfect sense but I can tell by the way she squints her eyes and furrows her eyebrows that it doesn't make sense. She hand hers to me next, pride clear across her face.

Ton père est toujours en colère et je pense que c'est pour ça que nous sommes mariés. J'apprécie quand tu dors dans ma chambre et que nous nous battons avec des pistolets à eau. Mon film préféré à regarder est Star Wars, mais j'apprécie aussi Hunger Games parce que vous en êtes témoin. J'attends avec impatience une soirée cinéma ce vendredi avec vous. Tu es très cool, merci d'être mon ami.

(Translation)

Your dad is always mad and I think that is why we are married. I enjoy when you sleep at my room and we fight with guns of water. My favourite movie to watch is Star Wars but I also enjoy Hunger games because you witness it. I look forward to night movie this Friday because with you. You are very cool, thank for being my friend.

I can't help but giggle when I read it over, this causes panic in Ellie "Why are you laughing, what's wrong with it?"

"I love you but you are definitely failing."

I quickly helped her rewrite it before we turned it in, and she ended up getting a B with my revisions.

"Are you okay?" I hear Karris, she looks a little on edge, probably because I went nonverbal and froze for a solid minute or two.

"She's fine," Kayla puts her hands on either of my arms which are currently plastered to my side "I'm just gonna snag her for a minute if you don't mind." Kayla didn't wait for a response she was already dragging me away, guiding me through the sea of people and into the bathroom.

I always hated the bathroom here. The walls were black tile with white grout and there was graffiti all over the stalls and ceiling, apparently, it added to the effect, I just thought it was fugly; not to mention how dimly lit it was, there were red LED strips behind the mirrors but that was about the only light source. If you were trying to fix your eyeliner, you 

"What is going on with you?" Kayla leans against the counter with the sinks, I'm right in front of her with my arms crossed.

"Nothing-

"I just saw you glitch in real life," She raises her eyebrows "You literally froze, I thought you were having a stroke."

I wipe some sweat off my brow "My head hurts," I mutter, I've already had too much to drink and we really hadn't been there that long. My thoughts didn't seem to process. Now keep in mind that I was so insanely plastered that night that I don't remember everything verbatim, I had to take others' words for what happened.

"Do you want an aspirin?" Kayla asks to which I nod and she begins digging through her purse, she pulls out a little bottle and I hear the rattling of pills. It's so dark that I can only make out the vague shape of the bottle. She places a little pill into my hand and gives me a half-drunk bottle of Fiji water in my free hand.

I don't need the water though, I dry swallow it.

She tucks the bottle back into her purse and feels something, I see her eyes go wide and that alone begins to stress me out. "What?" I ask, with no answer. She dumps her purse onto the counter behind her and turns on her phone flash to look at each item, she snatches a bottle of Tylenol and takes the cap off just for her hand to fly over her mouth. "Is something wrong?"

"I didn't give you aspirin," She's fighting back laughter but her dainty features are etched with concern.

"So?" I say, "It's just Tylenol, it won't kill me," My speech is slurred from the alcohol in my system.

"Honey, it's not Tylenol," She lowers her hand from her mouth, pressing her lips together tight. "It's MDMA."

"What?"

"Ecstasy," She corrects herself, making it easier for me to understand.

"WHAT?" My eyes go wide and my jaw drops "WHAT?" I repeat, running over to one of the nasty graffiti-covered stalls and kneeling in front of it, sticking my fingers down my throat to try and throw up to get it out of my system before it sets in. "Say something gross to make me throw up!"

"Uhh," Kayla stood behind me "Think of your dad getting off with your grandma!"

"EW!" I shout, turning to look at her with disgust on my face. "Why would you say that?"

"You told me to say something gross!"

"Not that!" I cry, slouching against the stall. I wish I had a time machine, I wouldn't just go back four hours, I would go back four years and make sure I play everything right. Maybe then I wouldn't be drunk and high in the bathroom of a dingy nightclub and I would still have Ellie.

"It's okay, honey, It's clean," Kayla walks closer to me, the heels of her boots clacking on the tile "I promise," She offers me a little rub on the shoulder "I promise I'll take good care of you tonight and make sure you're safe."

She was lying through her teeth, and just an hour later I was face down on the bar, lulling in and out of consciousness. That is the exact moment I started to think it wasn't clean like Kayla had said. My high didn't feel like what I was told rolling was like.

At first, I felt fine and then everything started to feel off. You know when you spin around a bunch super fast and your world spins under your feet? It was like that. 

Before I retired to the bar, I tried to get back on the dancefloor just for my body to betray me and collapse onto the ground, people around me had stopped to watch me stagger back onto my feet and wordlessly stumble away.

After I lift my head off the spruce bartop and don't see Kayla anywhere in sight for the seventh time, I reach for my phone that I had stuffed into my bra and dial up Dina. 

I hear the hum of the tone before it clicks and I hear her static voice on the other end. "Hello?" Her voice crackles.

"Dina, I'm on drugs."

"What?" I hear some shuffling in the background then what sounds like the click of a door "What drugs? are you okay?"

"I don't know," My voice drags out "Kayla took it out of her purse, said it was MMA and I'm not-" I hiccup "I'm not doing well."

"What the hell is MMA? Isn't that mixed martial arts?"

"Dina, I'm not doing martial arts, I'm doing drugs."

She sighs and I can feel her disappointment through the phone "Are you still at Monarch?"

"Yes."

"Hang on," Something shifts in the background.

"I'm kind of scared."

"Please just stay where you are-

"I love you, Dina."

"I lo- CLICK

My phone dies, and the screen turns black. I click some buttons for a moment to ensure that it's dead before I tuck it back into my bra and let myself lull back onto the bar, I rest my head on my arms and look at the displays of liquor surrounding me.

I lose track of the time that passes, in my head I am just about the win the 72nd Hunger Games, it's down to me and another tribute. There's an intense fight, I wind up underneath her and she presses a blade to my throat, I get a good look at her face and see Ellie but her face doesn't stay the same. It morphs through every version of her I had ever known. When we were seven, her grunge phase, when she let me do her makeup. This is when I give up, I know I don't have it in me to kill her so I lay limp and await my fate-

"Hey," A man sits next to me, his presence stood out effortlessly. With a strong, chiselled jawline and well-defined features, his face carried an air of that old-money elegance. His hazel eyes were softened by something (alcohol, probably), drawing others into their captivating gaze. Dark, tousled hair framed his face, adding an intriguing touch of ruggedness. He is clad in a white button-up and dress pants, I can well he's a blue-collar man just from the way he sits.

"What?" I squint my eyes at him.

"You're really pretty, I thought I would introduce myself," He smiles "I'm Emmet."

"Okay," I answer turning my attention to look ahead at the liquor display, watching the way the lights shone through them. Right now I don't care to make conversation, even if he looks like Henry Cavell, I'm fighting to stay awake.

One of his bulky hands reaches for my necklace, four of his fingers are beneath the cross, pressed against it while his thumb rubs it "You're religious."

I look down where he cradles my cross and try to jerk away but my body feels too heavy "Not anymore," I mutter. I put one of my hands over his to move it off me, he takes this as an invitation to hold my hand.

Emmet brings his head next to mine to whisper in my ear "So does that mean you're a good girl or a bad girl-

"It means she's leaving, actually," Ellie pushes him away abruptly, he looks taken aback while she doesn't give a shit. She begins to gingerly help me off the stool "Do you have everything?"

"Why are you here?" I ask "I called Abby."

"You called Dina and she's on the other side of town with her boyfriend so she sent me." Ellie slings one arm around me and I sink into her immediately.

"I hate you so much," I murmur under my breath.

"Yeah, I bet you do," She is gentle with me, she's treating me like I'm made of porcelain and I'll shatter at the slightest bit of harm.

Emmet looks crazily offended, his hands up in defence "Hey, we were having a conversation-

"Borderline harassment doesn't constitute a conversation." Ellie looks like she rolled out of bed, she is in her grey sweatpants and field hockey hoodie, her hair in the low ponytail she always wore to sleep. "Are you okay?" She asks, her tone shifting from harsh to soft.

"Mhm," I ball my fist up and rub my eye, smearing my mascara when I do so, I look down at my hand and see the remnants of my telescopic mascara and silver glitter smudged on it. 

I am killing myself slowly and it is no crucifixion. 

As Ellie helps me into the back seat of her car I feel like mold is growing on my bones just to way me down to the concrete where I will surely rot. "I don't write enough," I mumble "And I'm so lonely I'm searching for god everywhere but I can't find him."

Ellie gives me a little hum of acknowledgment her eyes briefly shooting to me in the rearview mirror before looking back to the road. 

"Don't worry, I'm not in love with you anymore," I say nonchalantly as I'm sprawled out in her back seat, watching the light from neon signs pass us by.

"I didn't know you ever were." She says softly, hands on the steering wheel, she steals glances at me. The towering skyscrapers loomed like sentinels, their reflective glass surfaces capturing the myriad colours of neon signs that adorned the streets.

"I hate you," I add on. The mix of liquor and whatever drug Kayla gave me was doing me justice, I couldn't hold back any thought, they all fell from my lips in a jumbled mess. "I hope you die, I hope we both die." Ellie doesn't have anything to say to that. I think to myself that if I die in this moment, I would not be afraid, I would greet death like an old friend with a bright smile and warm hug. "I don't love anyone the way I love you," My head lulls against the window "And your girls, they all hate me."

"So which is it?" She asks, feeding into my tangent "Do you love me or do you hate me?"

"I-" I think about it for a brief moment "I hope if I killed myself everyone who was ever mean to me felt responsible." I look up slightly, using the car seats to help me steady myself "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you home," She says, biting the inside of her cheek "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for god to call me back."

I ramble on and on, it's a miracle that she didn't stop at the side of the road and dump me onto a curb. The traffic lights painted the road in hues of red and green, and the city lights flickered like stars, helping us find our way home. 

"Ellie," I say, a building up ahead catches my eyes "Ellie, pull over!" She thinks I'm going to throw up so she pulls her gray sedan over, as swiftly as possible. I stumble out of the car, my stiletto heel catches the ground in a weird way, my ankle goes sideways and I fall with it.

"Shit," Ellie rushes from the driver's seat to help me sit up straight. I use her as support to pull myself off the concrete sidewalk completely and walk towards the church up ahead like a zombie "Where are you going?"

"To clean myself from sin," I approach the church and force the heavy doors open; I knew for a fact even in my state that this church had its chapel open twenty-four hours from all of the Google pins my mom sent me when I first moved here. 

The chapel's interior was bathed in a soft, ethereal moonlight that filtered through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours upon the polished wooden pews below. 

Smooth, cool stone formed the foundation of the chapel. The high, arched ceilings reached towards the heavens, adorned with wooden beams that seemed to cradle the sacred space below. The acoustics, shaped by the architecture, lent an echo to the moonlight whisper as if the very walls absorbed and magnified the prayers of the faithful.

Rows of meticulously arranged pews lined either side of a central aisle, leading towards the altar bathed in a soft glow. Carved with intricate detail, the altar served as the focal point, adorned with candles, floral arrangements, and sacred symbols. The air was scented with the subtle fragrance of incense, a sensory companion to the spiritual journey within.

Throughout the chapel, unlit candles are spread throughout. Above the altar, a crucifix hung solemnly, a symbol of sacrifice and redemption. Rays of moonlight seemed to converge upon it, imbuing the sacred symbol with a profound sense of grace. 

I try to compose myself the way you would a song or a speech and fall to my knees before the altar, clasping my hands together tightly. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. I wake young but feel as though my bones have resided on this earth for centuries."

I am at his altar but I don't feel him around me, where is his steady hand which used to guide me?

My hands grasp together even tighter "I am filthy, I'm disgusting," I choke out "I'm all used up and I need you to help me get better," I break my hands away from their position to wipe my eyes free of any oncoming tears before putting them right back "Fill me with your purity, I will be waterboarded by your sacred hand until holy water leaks from my pores."

Ellie hangs around by the entrance, sketched out by not only the creepy church but also my off-putting behaviour. She flinches at every shadow she sees, believing it to be a homeless person who was residing there for the night. I'm kneeling over in my sequin dress, one of the straps slips down my shoulder and my dress rides up, this is the most sinful I have ever been, synthetic sunshine coursing through my system.

"Make me love myself so I have room to love you," I feel so repulsive and dirty, soap and water won't make me feel clean so I'll try bleach and matches instead "I ask for Your mercy and grace to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. Create in me a clean heart, God, and renew a right spirit within me, return my family to my side."

I search for some sort of sign that he is watching over me.

Nothing.

No sign that he is here.

The priest at my old church in my hometown had said that without doubt there was no room for faith. It wasn't doubt, it was absolution, he is not here and so I unclasped my golden cross necklace and discarded it on the ground before the altar, never again will I be haunted by a man who has failed to ever show me mercy.

Ellie washes the grime off me with the detachable shower head. My hair is clipped up and I am hugging my knees, facing away from her in the bathtub. I feel a profound sense of shame and embarrassment all over again despite everything within me that is helping to take the edge off. 

She holds the shower head but looks away to give me some false sense of dignity, I cried the whole way home from the church about being filthy but with how many times I had fallen over, she didn't want me to hit my head in the shower so we settled on this.

"I'm done," I mutter and right away Ellie turns the shower off and grabs my house robe from one of the hooks on the door, she holds it up and waits for me to stand, still averting her eyes. I stand slowly, gripping onto the rim of the tub for dear life. When I slip into it, Ellie helps me move out of the bathtub and into my bedroom.

She lifts me onto the bed and tucks me in beneath my satin duvet cover. Ellie leaves for a moment but when she returns she has a bowl in case I need to vomit, a class of water, a sleeve of saltines and a bottle of actual aspirin.

"Goodnight," She begins to shut the door but I stop her.

"Ellie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me?" My voice breaks as I say it "Just for tonight, I don't want to be alone." Wordlessly, she shuts the door and comes around the right side of my bed; Ellie is careful keep her distance from me but unlike Christmas, we face each other. "I don't hate you." I tell her because that is all I could recall saying in the car ride.

"I know."

"Do you hate me?"

"Of course not."

I don’t think I’m a whole person anymore, I think I’m made up from a dozen different perceptions of me. This version of me, born that night was anything but pure.

I am unlovely, so please, hold me gently and do not wreck me any further.

A/N: The drinking age in Canada is nineteen! They go to school in the true north strong and free. Also one more part left to go 👀

Tag list!

@elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell

Sorry if I missed anyone!

[baileypie-writes]

~Why Glitter Force is Problematic~

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

In case you don’t know what Glitter Force is, it’s the English dub of the anime Smile Pretty Cure; the 9th season of the Pretty Cure franchise. It was produced by Saban, and released on Netflix in 2015.

Not long later, they made another dub. Only this time, with the season DokiDoki! Pretty Cure, which they changed to Glitter Force Doki Doki.

Instead of keeping everything the same, Glitter Force changed way more than necessary, making it racist and implied to be homophobic.

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

First off, I just wanna point out that Saban was a problematic company. They were criticized for their questionable, race-related choices when it came to casting for Power Rangers(the whitewashed version on Super Sentai). They also harassed one of the actors David Yost, for his sexual orientation so much, that he left the show. Lastly, the president of the company, Haim Saban, supports Israel. So Saban is not a good company.

With that out of the way, let’s get into the changes.

~1. Name Changes~

Saban decided to remove all Japanese culture from Smile and DokiDoki! Pretty Cure; whitewashing it. They renamed almost everything, even things that didn’t need to be.

Smile Pretty Cure Name Changes:

Miyuki Hoshizora/Cure Happy - Emily/Glitter Lucky(Glitter Pink in some dubs)

Akane Hino/Cure Sunny - Kelsey/Glitter Sunny(Glitter Orange in some dubs)

Yayoi Kise/Cure Peace - Lily/Glitter Peace(Glitter Yellow in some dubs)

Nao Midorikawa/Cure March - April/Glitter Spring(Glitter Green in some dubs)

Reika Aoki/Cure Beauty - Chloe/Glitter Breeze(Glitter Blue in some dubs)

King Pierrot - Emperor Nogo

Joker - Rascal

Wolfrun - Ulric

Akaoni - Brute(was also changed from a demon to a troll)

Majorina - Brooha

Akanbe - Buffoon

Cure Decor - Glitter Charm

Smile Pact - Glitter Pact

Decor Décor - Charm Chest

Princess Candle - Princess Wand

Märchenland - Jubiland

Bad End Kingdom - Shadow Realm

Nanairogaoka Middle School - Rainbow Hills Middle School

Candy and Pop’s names were kept, I’m assuming because they were already English.

DokiDoki! Pretty Cure Changes:

Mana Aida/Cure Heart - Maya Aida/Glitter Heart

Rikka Hishikawa/Cure Diamond - Rachel/Glitter Diamond

Alice Yotsuba/Cure Rosetta - Clara Yotsuba/Glitter Clover(this one makes no sense to me)

Makoto Kenzaki/Cure Sword - Makenzie Mack/Glitter Spade

Aguri Madoka/Cure Ace - Natalie Miller/Glitter Ace

Joe Okada - Johnny

Princess Marie Ange - Princess Marie Angelica

Ai - Dina

Sharuru - Kippie

Raquel - Rory

Dabyi - Davi

Jikochuu - Distain

Leva - Riva

Gula - Gura

King Jikochuu - King Mercenare

Lovely Commune - Glitter Pad

Cure Lovead - Glitter Charm

Love Heart Arrow - Glitter Heart Arrow

Magical Lovely Pad - Glitter Crystal Pad

Oogai Town - Seashell Bay

Oogai Middle School - Seashell Bay Middle School

Trump Kingdom - Splendorious

These aren’t even all the changes. They changed all the names of the attacks as well.

~2. Cut Episodes~

(There are more that are included in different sections)

Again, Saban wanted no Japanese culture in the dub. So any episodes that contained too much Japanese culture were cut. Some were cut for other reasons. In total, Glitter Force cut 8 episodes. 13 full episodes were cut in Doki Doki, while some were stitched together in other episodes. In total, there are 19 less episodes in Glitter Force Doki Doki.

Here are the sources I used for guidance!:

Glitter Force, Glitter Force Doki Doki

Glitter Force:

• Episode 10: It centers around Akane’s family restaurant, which serves okonomiyaki, a Japanese food. This food appeared once or twice in Glitter Force, but they referred to it as “Japanese pizza”. This isn’t even what the food is. It’s more like a savory pancake.

• Episode 17: It contains a Japanese comedy show. It also contains real life Japanese comedians. So while Saban probably would’ve cut it regardless, they most likely didn’t have the rights to use it anyway.

• Episode 26: It’s focused around a Japanese summer festival. This obviously includes Japanese food, clothes(yukatas) and games.

• Episode 26: It takes place at Miyuki’s grandmother’s house in Japanese mountains. We see rice fields, which I guess is enough of a cultural difference. There are also yokai mentioned, which are Japanese monsters/ghosts.

• Episode 33: This episode takes place on the set of a Japanese edo-period drama. Obviously, this has tons of Japanese culture.

• Episode 34: It’s about the Cultural Festival at the characters’ school. Cultural Festivals are not a thing in America. It also includes characters from Japanese fairy tales.

• Episode 36: Akane is assigned the task of showing an English exchange student around the school. She teaches him Japanese, and shows him the culture.

There were episodes with Japanese culture that stayed in the Glitter Force. And some of those were episodes 13 and 14(episodes 12 and 13 in Glitter Force) where the girls go on a field trip to Kyoto and Osaka. Although, in Glitter Force, they call it the “Asia Pacific Expo”. Now Saban, I don’t know if you know this, but Asia is a continent with many countries. And each one has its own unique culture. So you should’ve just called it the “Japanese Expo”.

They also kept episode 21(episode 18 in Glitter Force), which is about Tanabata, a Japanese festival. Probably the only reason they kept this in was because it contained a very important plot point. Although, important plot points didn’t stop them from cutting episodes in Doki Doki.

The way they treated the holiday in Glitter Force was pretty normal. They did rename the festival from Tanabata to the Star Festival. But besides that, they pretty much portrayed what the holiday is about accurately. They even explained the story behind it correctly(I believe. I’m white, so please correct me if I’m wrong). As a kid, I wasn’t confused at all. Sure, it was a holiday I’d never heard of, but it was explained, so I was fine. So this proves even further that keeping the rest of the Japanese culture would’ve been perfectly fine. So cutting it really wasn’t necessary.

Lastly, I just want to point out how in episode 2 of Glitter Force(whether intentionally or not), they basically poked fun at the traditional Japanese greeting. In Smile Pretty Cure, Miyuki hows Candy how they greet people, which is by bowing. However, in Glitter Force, it’s Candy showing Emily how the pixies in Jubiland, the weird fantasy world, greet each other. While doing so, they say “Hello, my friend! I am happy to see you!” in silly voices. The way this is done and said implies that what they’re doing is funny and weird. So they turned a normal thing to do in Japan into that…

Glitter Force Doki Doki:

• Episodes 12 and 41 were cut for seemingly no reason. At least, not for any I could find.

• Episode 14: Includes Karuta, which is a Japanese card game.

• Episode 19: Not sure why this was cut, but a section of it was used in episode 14 of Glitter Force Doki Doki,“Royal Crystal Chaos”. Saban liked to combine episodes together.

• Episode 28: It’s about a Japanese summer festival. We’ve been over this previously.

• Episode 29: The characters are preparing for their school’s Cultural Festival. It also shows the fairies turning into humans. So more episodes had to be cut because of that.

• Episode 32: The actual Cultural Festival.

• Episode 33: The only reason I can think of why this was removed, was because it talks about Alice being a sickly child in the past. It’s a shame it was cut though, because it includes the story of how Alice became friends with Mana and Rikka.

• Episodes 34, 35, 37 and 38: Ai’s character arc. No idea why Saban wanted to cut it, but they did.

• Episode 36: Ai’s character arc, and it includes Raquel as a human, which was only previously featured in an episode that was cut. So it wouldn’t make sense to keep it.

• Episode 40: Includes a full singing performance by Makoto. Saban most likely cut it because they were lazy, and didn’t want to write a whole new song.

• Episode 42: Includes the fairies as humans. Again, with no context as to how they gained this ability, it would’ve been confusing.

~3. Toned Down/Removed Emotional Scenes/Episodes~

For some reason, Saban decided that children can’t handle anything too emotional. So any scene or episode that seemed “too much” to them was toned down or cut completely.

Examples:

• In episode 42(34 in Glitter Force) Cure March’s siblings are caught up in the middle of a battle. A big attack heads towards them, and March isn’t able to stop it in time. The attack hits, and a big cloud of dust envelops the children. Luckily, when the cloud clears, it’s revealed that the other Cures stopped the attack, saving the kids. In Smile Pretty Cure, there’s silence leading up to the reveal, making the viewers believe that the children are seriously injured, or worse. However, in Glitter Force, we hear the kids talking before the dust clears, saying “Hey, we’re okay!”. This ruins the suspense and emotion of the scene.

Shortly after, all March’s sibling run to her, hugging her. They’re all crying, and share a happy, emotional moment together. In Glitter Force, however, this moment is once again ruined by dialogue. The littlest brother asks why everyone is so sad, and a sister tells him that they’re not, and that they’re crying because they’re happy. That was completely unnecessary. And frankly, I think kids could tell that they were happy tears.

• There was episode about Yayoi that was cut, which was episode 19. In it, it reveals that her father had passed away when she was young, and that she desperately wants to remember him. Though being young when he passed, she can’t remember that much, making her upset. Her father’s death is never shown, and it’s never said how he died. Glitter Force cut this episode out, because heaven forbid death be mentioned. Even though characters die in basically every Disney movie, and it’s fine. I think this episode is important, because it could be relatable for children who’ve lost family members of their own. It could even give them a sense of comfort. So Saban cutting it out is just really stupid.

Added after @glittercakes mentioned it

(Thanks for letting me know about this!)

• In the final episode, Candy has to go back to her homeland, so she says goodbye to the girls. Candy is crying a lot, but the girls just smile, letting her know that it’s okay. When Candy’s gone, the girls break down, finally allowing themselves to cry. It’s a very sad moment, which makes the reunion even better. But in Glitter Force, the girls stay smiling the entire time, even after Candy leaves. Emily even goes as far as to call her dramatic.

All these changes paint the picture that kids are too sensitive, and should only watch things that are happy 100% of the time. This is just ridiculous to me. Having emotions other than happiness in children’s shows is important, because it teaches them that it’s okay to be upset or sad. Having everything happy all the time, even when it shouldn’t be, teaches unhealthy lessons to children, like “it’s not okay to cry”. That’s what toxic positivity is, and it is not a good thing.

• This last point isn’t specifically about cutting emotional scenes, but I thought it was important to add. Smile Pretty Cure includes many life lessons in their episodes. These are obviously meant to teach children how to be better and kinder in life. However, in Glitter Force, they often twist the lessons to make them into funny cartoon shenanigans. I don’t see the point in doing this at all. Including life lessons in children’s media is genuinely useful and important. Taking out the whole point of the episode leaves no value in it.

~4. Homophobia~

There are a few, minor details that were completely unnecessary for Saban to edit out, which gives the impression of being homophobic.

Examples:

• In episode 39(episode 31 in Gitter Force) where the girls get transported into the fairytale “Cinderella”, Reika gets casted as the Prince, since there are no boys. In Smile Pretty Cure, Miyuki, who’s casted as Cinderella, sees her as charming. However, in Glitter Force, all their interactions and dialogue are done in a joking matter, making sure the audience knows that they don’t like each other like that. That was unnecessary, as in the original, it’s never implied that they shared romantic interest. They were just following the story. In another scene, Reika catches Yayoi when she falls. We see Reika from Yayoi’s point of view, and there are the classic anime sparkles, insinuating that she sees her as incredibly handsome. She’s seen blushing a moment later. These tiny details were cut in Glitter Force. Because heaven forbid that a girl finds another girl handsome.

• In DokiDoki! Pretty Cure episode 10(episode 8 in Glitter Force), we really get to see Rikka and Mana’s friendship in greater detail. Rikka always makes sure that Mana is being responsible, and keeping her on top of things. Her fairy partner, Raquel, compares Rikka to being Mana’s wife. This wasn’t insinuating romantic interest. It was just comparing her traits to traits of a stereotypical wife. But of course, Glitter Force can’t have anything related to two girls being together. So they changed the comparison to Maya’s mother.

• Episode 44 of DokiDoki! Pretty Cure was cut, and there’s only one reason that I can think of as to why. Everyone is being super affectionate to Mana. Some people, including girls, even blush at her. That could imply them having a crush on Mana, I guess. And of course, to Saban, girls can’t love girls.

These changes may be minor, but that’s exactly what makes it homophobic. They were tiny scenes that weren’t made to be taken super seriously. But the idea of two girls liking each other bothered Saban so much, that they felt the need to edit them out. And the previously mentioned situation with David Yost proves that this was intentional homophobia.

~Conclusion: Stop Supporting Glitter Force~

The amount of people who still support Glitter Force really pisses me off. Like, I get if you didn’t know about Smile Pretty Cure. But there are people who know that Glitter Force is problematic and still watch it like nothing’s wrong with it. They either deny that it’s problematic, ignore it, or simply don’t care.

“But they made it easier for English kids to understand!”

I’m sure kids would’ve understood just fine if they kept the Japanese culture. Kids aren’t so sensitive, that the moment something is slightly different, they shut down. I mean, look at Disney. They explore different cultures in their movies all the time, and are still the most successful movie company in the world. Mulan and Encanto are super popular, despite the fact that they take place in and contain culture from China and Colombia. So if Glitter Force kept the characters original names and the culture, I’m sure the kids couldn’t care less. Besides, it’s important to teach kids about different cultures, so they don’t grow up to be ignorant.

The only time anime was edited this heavily was in the 90s-early 2000s. And they did it because anime was so new and strange, so they thought no one would watch it if it wasn’t more American. But Glitter Force was released in 2015. At that point in time, anime was receiving a huge rise in popularity. So Japanese culture was much more normalized and understood in the west. So all those changes were even more unnecessary.

As an American, I can say that we don’t need everything to be tailored to be like us. The very idea is just ridiculous to me. And it’s the same for every other country. Just accept things for the culture they are.

“But it was my childhood!”

It was mine too. And I understand that it can be hard to let go of something you grew up with. But the thing is: you don’t have to! You can just watch the original! Even if you don’t have a VPN, or don’t have the bravery to pirate it(which isn’t nearly as dangerous as it sounds, if you know good websites), there’s really no reason to continue watching Glitter Force. There are plenty of fandubs out there that you can watch legally, and are way more accurate than Glitter Force! Smile Pretty Cure can still give you the same sense of nostalgia as well. It did for me, at least.

Choosing to ignore, excuse or not care about problematic behavior, simply because something was your childhood is a very immature thing to do. Especially in this case, where you can just watch the original. I promise you, Smile Pretty Cure is honestly so much better!

The very last thing I want to point out is that Smile Pretty Cure was made to aid the children who suffered from the 2011 tsunami and earthquake in Japan. The overall theme of the show is happiness, with each Cure being named after something that makes people happy. And the anime’s title, Smile Pretty Cure, is a reminder that smiles can help you through tough times. So the fact that Glitter Force takes that meaning away is just awful.

Thank you for reading all this. I didn’t even get to go through all the changes Saban did, but I went through the most important. Let me know if this informed you in any way!

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[elliesmainhoe]

New Year's Day

Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader

summary: you and Ellie host your first ever New years Eve party, and as you both clean up the mess your friends had left in their wake.

Content Warnings: alcohol?, nothing really just fluff tbh.

(based on 'new years day' by Taylor Swift)

there's glitter on the floor after the party.

as your eyes flickered open, the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume immediately hitting you, immediately feeling regret of offering up yours an Ellie's shared apartment to host your friends annual New Year's Eve party.

"g'mornin' pretty girl" a rough voice rasped out, the feeling of your girlfriends hands brushing through your hair as you both slowly awoke from your slumber on the leather couch.

the sight of Ellie was amusing for sure. hair tussled and frizzy, your lipstick mark on her cheek and glitter speckled around her face from the cheesy sparkly 2024 glasses you had forced her into wearing.

"morning Ells."

girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby.

dinas arms wrapped around you in a goodbye, promising you to send the pictures of you and Ellie kissing under the fireworks that you watched on your balcony and thanked you for the cheap champagne and food.

you glanced over your shoulder to see Ellie talking to Jesse, who looked just as... worn out. soon her eyes focused back on you as the two approached you and Dina. Jesse's hand reaching for dinas, dinas free hand interlocking with Jesse's, her occupied one clutching her heels that she had given up on wearing a long time ago.

after bidding each other farewell Dina and Jessie left your apartment, Dina walking barefoot towards the elevator. a smile graced your lips, you'd been there too. who hasn't? dancing too much where heeld feet turn blistered and sore.

candle wax and polaroids on the hard floor, you and me from the night before, but

after the door closed and the last person left your messy apartment, Ellie's arms snaked around your waist, synchronised sighs leaving both of you as you looked around the post-party mess.

melted candles that used to be standing proud in cake now discarded on kitchen counter tops. an old Polaroid camera laying on the couch, pictures it produced scattered around like a treasure house.

there was one of the cake

the champagne

you and Ellie dancing

you sitting on Ellie's lap, head resting on her shoulder

your lips touching in a tender kiss while fireworks explode behind you.

don't read the last page, but I can stay when you're lost and I'm scared.

new year means new challenges and as Ellie's lips press softly against your temple, swaying side to side in eachother's embrace, moving to the sound of Ellie's humming a song you can't quite remember the name of, you know it'll be alright.

"I love you" you whisper softly.

"I love you too" comes the reply.

and your turning away, I want your midnights

you remember the fun from last night, the cheers of triumph after winning a stupid party game, the clinks of champagne flutes and the sensation of the bass of the music that shook the floor.

but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

but now here you both are, kneeling on the hardwood floors as you pick up empty bottles of beer and discarded glasses of half drunken wine glasses and flutes of bubbly.

the smile on your face is beaming despite the thudding headache your hangover had so kindly given you. the warmth in your chest still blossoming. the boring clean up feeling just as special as the night of fun before.

you glance up as Ellie silently puts various items in a large trash bag, her eyes meeting yours. and just from the loving glint in them you knew so well, you could tell those feelings were reciprocated.

you squeeze my hand three times at the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's going to be a long road.

you think back to yesterday, your group of friends piling in the back of a taxi after you had partook in pre drinks at your all time favourite bar. and now you were all on the way back to the apartment you had so enthusiastically decorated with gold '2024 ballons' and gold tinsel.

Ellie's hand was wrapped in yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she squeezed three times, a gesture you knew too well.

three squeezes, three words.

i.

love.

you.

you squeezed back four times.

i.

love.

you.

too.

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home

2024 will be the fourth year you and Ellie have been together, four years. the road was bumpy, you both had the highest highs followed by the lowest of lows, but there was one thing that stayed constant. the warmth you felt when you looked at her, and the feeling of you heart growing more and more every word she spoke of endearment.

and Ellie felt it too, which was why a diamond encrusted ring was hidden in the back of the closet. this would be the year she popped the question.

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you

New year's day came and gone, polaroids now hung on the wall by the front door, a ring now adorning your finger. Dina was giggling through the phone as you jokingly scolded her for not telling you that Ellie was going to propose, that the girls spa day and manicure was all a ploy for good engagement pictures.

Ellie sat behind you on the couch after grabbing you both drinks from the kitchenette, pressing a kiss to your forehead and waving to Dina who waved back.

"oh God you should have seen it, Ellie, Joel, Jesse and me all huddled into the poor jewelers shop downtown- I'm honestly surprised we weren't kicked out." she laughed. "but I think it paid off- I mean, you're never going to be able to shake Ellie off now, she's going to hold onto you forever, I pity you." she joked which was swiftly replied by Ellie in a middle finger.

Please don't ever become a stranger, whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Ellie's face was flushed and red, her soft hair falling in front of her face covering up the tears that stained her rosy freckled cheeks, your hands interlocked, both ring fingers dressed in golden rings.

"I now pronounce you wife and wife. you may kiss the bride."

the world seemed to slow, the congregation of guests vanishing as you both leaned in, lips meeting as the sound of muffled cheers hit your ears. you could feel the way ellies lips twisted into a smile as you kissed.

as soon as you pulled apart you heard the joyous laughter resonating from her chest as she offered you her hand, an offer you gladly took.

your footsteps land in sync as you walk back down the aisle.

3 squeezes, 3 words.

i.

love.

you.

4 squeezes, 4 words.

i.

love.

you.

too.

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I had to describe holding hands one too many times. anyways HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

NOT PROOFREAD

[withyouwithoutthem]

Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) Ellie Williams

Modern College AU. Dealer!Ellie x F!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Ellie find themselves locked in a room together they’re forced to face the misunderstanding that occurred between them three years prior. Reader isn’t ready to let it go, but Ellie is willing to persuade her otherwise. 

WC: 9.5k Buckle up, it’s a long one.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!! consumption of alcohol, smoking marijuana, brief description of reader’s outfit, mentions of divorced parents and foster care, ANGST, mutual pining, reader and ellie are both idiots, ellie being a little manipulative, SMUT, fingering and oral sex (r recieving)

A/N: i got super stoned last night and considered not posting this. second half is NOT proof read and feels a bit rushed. it's also very different from anything else i’ve written and i don’t know how i feel about it. initially i didn't intend for it to be this long (like 18 pages in gdocs, might be overkill) but it seems i don’t know how to write anything that’s not shakespearean in length, so sincere apologies. are people even into fics this long? i know i am but thats not the point. first time smut writer soooo that was fun! remember that feedback is always highly appreciated as well as like and reblogs! enjoy!!

You had dragged yourself to the party tonight in hopes of easing the heaviness that had settled in your stomach following the news delivered by your father that morning. It was hardly an appropriate conversation to have over the phone, yet your father could not give you the luxury of speaking about  it in person. His words had been pinging around in your head all day, so when your roommate and best friend, Dina, brought up the idea of going to a party— you jumped at it with no questions asked.

Getting ready had been a small distraction for the time being, the notion of getting all “prettied up” for the night seeming good enough. Pregaming with a couple shots of tequila each had you feeling a new kind of sexy as you did your makeup; black eyeshadow skillfully smudged around your eyes in a tasteful wing, a light layer of glitter swiped across your lids. You’d dressed yourself in your favourite pair of jeans—the ones that hugged your ass in the best way— and a black open back top. 

You and Dina were both a giggling mess on the bus ride over to the frat, earning a fair share of odd glances from a few of the other patrons. Had you not been buzzed already, you would have felt embarrassed and maybe even apologized to those around you, but alcohol was buzzing in your veins on the track to having a fun night out.

The music could be heard from outside the frat house, but as soon as the two set foot through the doorway, it pumped right through their chests, leaving them with a buzz different from the alcohol. Sweaty bodies packed together tightly throughout the main floor, spilling out into the backyard where the party continued. In the kitchen they found the counter littered with bottles of booze and plenty of snacks— which you had learned not to touch the hard way, when you caught a god-awful stomach bug during first year. 

Dina’s eyes scanned the labels, fingers dancing overtop the bottles as she searched for one in particular, “Aha!” She exclaimed, “This’ll do.”

“Dina, there’s like seven different bottles of whiskey. It’s all the same.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dina shook her head, pouring a shots worth into the two plastic cups you set out. “This is the good stuff, no wonder they had it at the back.”

You didn’t have a chance to see the label, and couldn’t find yourself caring about the brand as you clinked your cup against Dina’s, sending your friend a wink before throwing the shot back. Dina had been right, this was the good stuff; smooth but smokey, warming your chest on the way down yet still sent shivers up your spine. 

The pair were quick to down a second one, and it wasn’t long before the girls found themselves being joined by their friends Jesse and Kate. They celebrated their arrival with a third before mixing their fourth with some semi-flat ginger ale they’d found. Dina had managed to convince you, who wasn’t much of a dancer, to join her where the mass of sweaty bodies moved in tandem with the music pulsing through them. 

You stood behind Dina, a hand on her hip as she slightly swayed side to side. The girl in front of you seemed to let the music consume her, dancing back onto her friend unaware of the attention she attracted from those around them. A sheen layer of sweat began to perspire on your back, hair sticking to the exposed skin. The heat of the room and the alcohol bubbling in your veins had you loosening up, but as Dina encouraged her to dance more freely— you knew you’d need another drink to do so. 

“I’ll be back! Gonna get another drink.” you spoke into Dina’s ear, who smiled and turned to dance with Jesse and Kate.

Back in the kitchen, you grabbed a new cup and searched for the bottle of whiskey Dina had stashed away again. You were bumped from behind as you poured the shot, more of it ended up spilled on the counter than in the cup. You cursed and grabbed a rag from the sink to wipe it up. As you moved to bring the cup up to your mouth, you found yourself stopping once it touched your lips, catching sight of who stood just outside the sliding doors. 

Ellie Williams.

Dressed in black jeans and a white tank top with an unbuttoned red and brown flannel overtop, Ellie Williams stood with a small group on the back deck, occasionally smoking off a joint as it made its rounds. Even though Ellie no longer attended school, she was still the resident weed dealer on campus, and had quite the reputation for not only how good her stuff was, but also how quickly she made her way through the school's population of queer women. 

The two of you had been friends once, meeting through your mutual friend, Dina. You had developed a certain fondness for Ellie during the times you found yourselves together. Ellie’s quick witted responses and terrible jokes made you laugh even when nobody else found them funny. It was Ellie’s little touches here and there that had your skin buzzing with a fire that couldn’t be put out; grabbing your elbow to pull you back from crossing the street when you weren’t paying attention, interlocked fingers in crowded spaces, and a soothing hand on your back that time you emptied your stomach onto some poor ladies flower garden during homecoming week.

Ellie’s voice often had your stomach doing somersaults—low and raspy during morning classes, knowing the auburn haired girl had probably only rolled out of bed fifteen minutes prior. Silky smooth in the late hours of the night, where on occasion you found yourself sitting alone with Ellie in Dina’s living room long after she retired to bed. You would be buzzing with a high courtesy of Ellie’s weed paired with whatever alcohol you’d drank that night. Ellie would be speaking at no more than a murmur, flirty remarks falling past her lips that had you scooting to sit closer. Heart pounding in your chest at the feeling of Ellie’s body pressed against your side. Though, when it came to Ellie, it was hard to know whether or not the words coming out of her mouth held any merit. She was a serial flirt afterall. 

You two grew close, no longer needing Dina with them as an excuse to hangout. By then, your fondness for Ellie had grown into a full-blown crush. Ellie’s touchy side had become more apparent the more you hung out, always touching you in some way; whether it be a hand on your knee under the table while surrounded by friends, a hand in your back pocket while walking, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered. It had even gone so far as a heated makeout on your couch. Ellie had insisted on walking you home after leaving Dina’s apartment, it was late and upon arriving at your place the two of you realized they didn’t want the night to end. 

It was under the orange glow of streetlights that you admired each other for what felt like an eternity. You took notice that the scar in Ellie’s right eyebrow that she’d always hide with her bangs was out in the open for the world to see. The freckles that littered her cheeks and nose were more noticeable in your close proximity, and you could just make out a small fleck of brown in Ellie’s green eyes. Just as you opened your mouth to invite Ellie inside, hand reaching out to trace a finger along the scar in her eyebrow did the auburn-haired girl quickly surge forward, moulding your lips together in a gentle yet somewhat sloppy kiss. 

You were buzzing, alight with so many feelings that all you could do was grab at Ellie with greedy hands and fumble backwards into your apartment. Close was not close enough as Ellie led you blindly to your couch, shoes haphazardly strewn in the entryway, accompanied by long forgotten jackets as hands pulled one another tighter. 

This was it, you thought. Solid evidence that the feelings you had for Ellie weren’t one sided, every touch, every locked gaze from across a crowded room, and every sweet endearment shared between you meant something. 

Ellie’s hands were in your hair, tangled in the strands keeping your lips married to each other as you found your place seated in her lap. There was a fire ignited between you two as your hips canted downwards into Ellie for some much needed friction. Ellie gasps into the kiss and you take that as a moment to catch your breath. It’s all droopy eyes and kiss-swollen lips as your eyes meet, giggles falling from both of you at the other's appearance. You’re both filled with such giddiness from heavy makeout. 

You’re playing with the hair at the back of her neck when you smile. “I really like you Ellie.”

It stings to watch her face fall, head slowly reeling back as if to get a better look at you somehow. Too soon is Ellie lifting you off her lap to stand from the couch, placing a fleeting kiss on your cheek and calling out a quick goodnight over her shoulder as she turned and made her way home.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

She’s at the door in the blink of an eye, tugging on her sneakers and grabbing her jacket, “I uh. . . Just remembered that I needed to help Joel out with this super important, uh, thing. Like really early in the morning. Yeah. And it’s pretty late so I should probably head out.”

Your shoulders deflate with the disappointment twisting between your ribs. “Oh, okay. . .” 

Ellie’s wringing her jacket in both her hands, struggling to maintain eye contact with you before she’s turning around and making her exit out your front door. “See ya soon! Goodnight!” She calls out over her shoulder.

That was the last time you spoke to Ellie Williams. 

The next time you saw Ellie—over a week later— she was wrapped up in the tattoo covered arms of a girl with short black hair. Later, Dina informed you that the girl with Ellie was her new girlfriend, Cat.

You were left confused and hurt for a long time after seeing Ellie with Cat, not knowing where along the way things between you two may have gone wrong. Ellie had avoided you and if she wasn’t going to talk, you would do just the same, never seeking out more of an explanation. The hurt and confusion you initially felt had turned to some form of hatred along the way, every time you saw Ellie and Cat it seemed to take over another part of you. At least that’s what you tried convincing yourself, and for some time disguising the feelings of adoration as disgust and hatred did work.

But avoiding each other altogether would be difficult.

Even after Ellie didn’t return to school for second year, and sharing a mutual friend in Dina, you could not seem to shake yourself free of Ellie. It felt like wherever you turned Ellie happened to be close by; whether that be walking on campus, or attending a party like tonight. For Dina’s sake, when you found yourself within unavoidable close proximity to Ellie, you kept things civil despite the slow boil rising in your blood and the pain that festered in your chest.

Ellie and Cat broke up after almost a year of dating, and her other flings never seemed to work for more than a few weeks, at most a couple months which had only happened one other time. You doubted that Ellie had any idea of the humiliation and grief her rejection had caused you.

It was as if Ellie could feel your gaze boring a hole into the side of her head, because in an instant she was turning to look inside where she found you standing at the kitchen counter. Ellie sent a slight smirk your way, continuing conversation with the people standing around her, never once letting her eyes move away from you. The smell of the whiskey suddenly had your stomach twisting unpleasantly when Ellie shot a wink your way, a wave of nausea rolling through you saw the cup  discarded in search for the nearest bathroom.

You skipped trying to find one in the crowded space of the main floor, quickly making your way up the stairs and to the second floor where you found yourself knocking on closed doors in search of an empty room. You had no luck on the second floor either, and dreaded the idea of having to climb another flight of stairs to the third. The only empty room happened to be at the end of the hall, and while it wasn’t a bathroom, the air in the bedroom helped in quelling the nausea, no longer heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth, you sat on the edge of the bed to steady yourself.

You blamed your intoxicated state for the reaction that seemed to spur as a result of the interaction with Ellie from across the kitchen. You thought you’d metabolized the idea that Ellie’s flirting with you had meant nothing and moved on. Having had a fair share of face to face interactions since, but either Dina or Jesse had been there with you.

God, you felt like such an idiot. All you’d done was make eye contact with Ellie and it had you hurtling towards a downward spiral you tried your hardest to stay afloat in. You hadn’t realized the chokehold Ellie seemed to have over you for the three years you’d known each other, and in your drunken state it had not fared well. You’d figured the feeling that grew in your stomach any time you saw Ellie with a new girl had just been disgust. Disgust in not knowing how Ellie could feel good about herself when she rotated through women like they were a picture book. But now, you had some idea that the feeling washing over you had not been disgust on its own, but paired alongside something akin to hurt.

Ellie was the bandaid you hesitated to rip off. 

There was no scale to measure how frustrated she was with herself. No scale to measure her disdain for the Williams girl. Deep down, you knew that she still harboured some feelings for Ellie that couldn't be disguised as hatred.

You must have sat there for a good five minutes, willing yourself to get up and rejoin the party, enjoy yourself and not let Ellie get to you. But you found that something was stopping you from leaving, wanting to stay in the solitude of the bedroom just a little longer. Sending a text to Dina, letting her know you were alright, you laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. 

You were startled awake no longer than fifteen minutes later by the door opening, the sounds of the party filtering into the room for a moment before drowning out again as the door shut. The person's back was to you as they took a deep breath, but you recognized the flannel they wore immediately. Your groan had Ellie turning around to face you fully, lips tipping up into a slight smirk.

“Hey.” Ellie greeted slyly. Hearing your name fall from Ellie’s lips had a flame flickering in your stomach. “Finally found ya.”

Your eyes narrow in Ellie’s direction, annoyance hanging onto your furrowed brows. Standing from the bed, weight shifting from one foot to the other as you think on your next move. You had left downstairs over twenty minutes ago, meaning Ellie had to have run through whether following you was a good idea or not. “So, what? You were lurking, followed me up here.”

“I didn’t follow you. Ran into an ex and needed a breather.” Ellie clarifies, lazily gesturing around the room, “And here we are. . .”

“Yeah, well, I came up here to be alone. You being here is the opposite of that.” came your snarky reply. Ellie would not be spared your hostilities. 

Ellie laughed, brushing her side swept bangs out of her eyes, “I saw the look on your face down there, almost barfed on the poor freshman beside you.” she shrugs her shoulders, “Didn’t see you come back downstairs so I took my chances with all the doors, this was the only one unlocked. Thought you could use someone to hold your hair back.”

“You wanted to help me?” You were baffled. That hot, stuffy feeling begins to creep its way back up your neck the longer Ellie’s presence lingers by the door. The air of confidence that clings to Ellie is suffocating as she stands there, biceps bulging in her flannel as her arms cross over her chest, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Ellie’s green eyes are intense as they hold your gaze; half lidded and filled with something you can’t decipher. 

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m feeling much better now, so if you’ll excuse me.” Making way to the door that Ellie is standing in front of. You hope of being able to make it out of the room before choking on your words—not wanting to say something you’ll inevitably regret. 

Ellie moves in front of the door handle, blocking your seeking grip. You reel back, perplexed that Ellie blocked you. Trying again, you reach around the left of Ellie, but the auburn-haired girl moves with you. Move to the right. So does Ellie.

Stepping back in frustration, your stare is burning, “Move.” You grit.

Ellie lifts her gaze to the ceiling, eyes darting around playfully as she whistles a low tune, rocking back and forth on her feet. She’s messing with you and you know it. Always the jokester, Ellie is never one to take things too seriously.

“Ellie.” You refrain from stomping your foot. Ellie would only tease you relentlessly for acting like such a brat, “Ellie, let me leave.”

A low hum comes from Ellie’s throat, “What’s the magic word?”

No longer wanting to deal with her infuriating presence, you surge forward and push Ellie to the side enough that she’s out of the way. Wrapping your hands around the cool metal of the doorknob is your first lick at freedom, awaiting the moment you step through that door and go home to curl up in bed. You’ll likely wallow in self deprecation, unable to think of anything other than your first interaction alone with Ellie in a while.

Your hope is squashed when the door doesn’t budge. No, this cannot be happening. Twisting the handle again, you give it a good tug, hand slipping off the doorknob as you stumble back a few steps.

“Did you lock it?” You ask Ellie without looking at her.

“No.” Ellie replies, coming to stand closer to you. “Must be jammed.”

You groan, a string of expletives rushing past grit teeth while you jostle the doorknob with all the force as you can muster. You twist and tugs and rattle but the door stays solidly in place, sealing you and Ellie together in the room.

Kicking the door has a laugh slipping past Ellie’s lips. She can’t help but think of how cute you look when frustrated—the pout of lips she just wants to sink her teeth into. The glare from over your shoulder has Ellie coughing to cover her laugh, scratching at her neck and cheeks blazing red like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

You bang your fist against the door in hopes that someone may be able to hear her pleas for help. The chances of that happening in the secluded corner of the third floor is unlikely, but you’d rather take your chances than be stuck in a room with Ellie. “Oh, just fuck me right?” you mumbles to yourself.

Behind you, Ellie fights the urge to respond. 

“Are you gonna help?” you sigh heavily, gesturing towards the door in an exhausted manner.

Ellie’s nodding, eyes dancing around the room for something she can use to try picking the lock. She doesn’t see a screwdriver or a pair of scissors on the desk, and she doubts that the frat boy this room belongs to owns any bobby pins. Ellie moves towards the door in the far corner of the room, opening it to reveal the small ensuite she’d hoped it would be. 

Rummaging through the medicine cabinet is a dead end, as is the first drawer of the vanity. In the second drawer her mission is made successful—finding a small pair of scissors that she waves in the air triumphantly as she passes you.

“There was a bathroom here the whole time. . .” you mutter to yourself in disbelief. 

Ellie drops down to her knees in front of the door, eye level with the small keyhole as she tries jimmying the scissors around. Her tongue is poking out the side of her mouth, one eye squeezed shut in concentration as she tries to unlatch the lock's inner mechanism. Had the circumstance been different, you may have let yourself linger on the thought of how good Ellie looked down on her knees before you. 

Ellie thinks she might have gotten it, but mistakenly looks up at you hovering close by— brows furrowed expectantly, and lips pouted slightly— that she’s fumbling and dropping the scissors while thinking about how much she likes the sight of you above her. She grabs them hastily, returning to her previous task while reminding herself not to look back at your expectant gaze. 

“Have you picked a lock before?” you accuse.

“Uh. . . yeah.”

“Well you’re kinda shit at it.”

“Never said I was any good.” Ellie twists the doorknob just when she thinks she hears the lock click, but it still doesn’t give. 

Standing to her full height, Ellie forgoes trying to pick the lock with the scissors and puts all of her weight into pulling the door open. She grunts as her muscles strain, jostling the handle in the same way you had. Both girls are left wide eyed and stunned when Ellie suddenly staggers back, catching herself before she can fall. A loud and heavy thud draws your eyes to the floor; where the doorknob rolls around at your feet. 

A deafening silence settles over the room as both of you watch it stop rolling. Ellie is the one to bend down and grab it, staring at the broken metal doorknob in disbelief, while your hands shoot to grip your hair.

When both of you realize the gravity of the situation you've found yourselves in together, you’re quick to panic. The headache that blossoms was unrelated to the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed up until that point, and more so due to being stuck in a room with a busted door alongside the one person you tried your hardest to avoid. You eyed the broken off doorknob in Ellie’s hand, tugging at fistfuls of your hair. Ellie groans, head tossed back and eyes shut in annoyance before sitting on the bed.

“Fuck,” Ellie let out a breathy laugh, beginning to toss the doorknob in the air like a baseball. “These old houses are something, huh? Practically falling apart.” 

Holding Ellie’s gaze for a moment as you pull out your phone has a spark of hope flickering, but the screen remains black. Great, stuck in a room with Ellie Williams and your only chance is dead. Tossing your phone on the bed you turn to Ellie. “Dead. What about yours?”

Ellie nods and reaches for where she kept her phone in her back pocket, only to be met with emptiness. She let out a nervous laugh under your intense stare, patting at all her pockets in search of her phone, “I don’t have it on me.”  

You scoff, “Fucking great. Do you think this guy has a charger?” Moving to check the bundle of cords at the single bedside table has you throwing it back onto the floor in frustration when you come up empty handed. “Android.”

“What is it that they say about guys who have Androids. . .” Ellie made an attempt at a joke, but was only met with a glare, watching as you made quick strides towards the window, unlatching the lock and yanking it open.

You looked around outside to see that it was a straight drop down to the ground from the third floor window, no lattice to climb down or shrubs to cushion a fall, “No roof access and it's too far up to jump,” you stated. “Maybe if we just—” you stuck your upper body out the window, flailing your arms, “Hey! Up here! We’re locked in can someone help—”

Ellie was quick to pull you back inside. “Hey, would you stop that? You could have fallen! Everyone outside is too drunk to hear you.”

“Well someone has to be at least partly sober.” Now it was your turn to sit on the bed, head in your hands in a clear display of frustration. Ellie was hesitant to move from where she stood by the window, the feeling of your presence was somewhat suffocating, and she didn’t know what might set you off. 

“Ya know,” Ellie started. “We’re probably gonna be stuck in here for a while, so we could always try to enjoy our time rather than pout our way through it.”

You turned to look at Ellie over your shoulder, weary of what the auburn-haired girl might try suggesting. “And what is it that you have in mind?”

Reaching into her jacket pocket, Ellie produced a bag of pre-rolled joints, shrugging her shoulders in a playful manner. You could only roll your eyes, annoyed over the fact that Ellie managed to keep hold of her weed stash but not her phone. Smoking with Ellie would mean breaking down part of the barrier you had put up between the two of you, something you weren't so sure you were ready to explore quite yet. But, neither of you knew how long you’d be cooped up in that frat boy’s bedroom together, and you found yourself caving.

“Oh fuck it, sure.”

Ellie smiled and walked over to sit beside you, grabbing a single pre-roll and stashing the rest away. She placed the joint between her lips as she fished through the tight front pocket of her black jeans for her lighter. Flicking the lighter a few times to get it going, Ellie inhaled deeply as the end of it began to burn a bright red. She pulled the joint away from her lips as she breathed out the ghosted smoke, holding it out to you. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t smoked in a while—not since dropping your plug for getting too handsy on more than one occasion—and had been too proud to swing by Ellie to make a deal. You knew first hand and from the inner mumblings throughout the student body of just how good Ellie’s stuff was, so whatever was smoked tonight would have you ripped.

Inhaling shortly on the joint, and letting the smoke settle in your lungs before taking another, longer drag. On your second exhale, you sputtered, coughing on the smoke and releasing it in a dense cloud. You continued to cough into the crook of your elbow while passing it back to Ellie whose lips were pulled up into a slight smile.

“Too much?” Ellie teased, taking an easy five second drag.

Shaking your head, you rub at your chest to soothe the mild burning in your lungs, a light laugh falls from you, “Just been a while.”

Ellie gives a nod of her head, leaning back on her right hand to get a better look at you, watching the way hair falls in front of your face as you look down at your lap, or the way you would lightly snap the hair tie around your wrist. 

“Sooo. . .” Ellie brushes her long bangs out of her eyes. “What had you drinking whiskey like it was water?”

You shrugged, seeming to not know what to do with fidgeting hands as you contemplated telling Ellie the truth. Had you been having this conversation in a sober setting, you would have quickly shut down Ellie’s question. But in a hazy state of mind, you find herself letting the words slip easily, “Got a call from my dad today telling me mom filed for divorce after she found out he was fucking the book keeper at work.” you nod at Ellie’s shocked expression, “Yeah. Tried playing the victim card before mom had a chance to tell me herself. She’s better off without him anyway. He was a dick.”

Letting out a loud groan, you’re rubbing at your eyes in frustration as the phone call from that morning replays on a loop. Ellie didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, rather making her way through the foster care system ever since she could remember. Her behavioural issues saw her never being in one place for very long. Instability was something she grew used to at an early age, but she’d often imagine what it would be like to have two functioning parents who loved and adored her. Though she has never experienced family in the way you did— at least, not until Joel had come around— she knew no matter the age, a drastic shift in family dynamic like that wasn’t easy.

“It’s just me and my dad,” Ellie finds herself offering in an attempt at comfort. “Well, he’s not actually my dad. Joel he’s my. . . Joel. Took me in a while back when I found myself in a boatload of trouble, and it’s been the two of us ever since. Oh, and his brother Tommy.”

“And does your. . . your Joel, know that you, ya know, deal drugs to college students?”

“Not just college students, I’ve got some middle aged customers— a lawyer too if you can believe it.” Ellie laughs, and you follow by hiding a smile behind your hand. “But yeah, he knows. Wasn’t too keen on it at first, but the money has helped us through some tough times.”

A stale silence falls over the room, and it has a bitter taste flooding your mouth, saliva gathering under your tongue unpleasantly. Ellie seems so at ease that you wonder if she ever thinks about how things ended. You sure do; though it's lessened over the years, you still hold Ellie on some tightrope of contempt, a terrible balancing act teetering between holding on and letting it all go once and for all.

“I hope you know this changes nothing.” you admit quietly, rolling the joints filter between your thumb and forefinger. “Still don’t like you.”

Ellie looks up at you for a moment and she can feel her heart clench as she takes in your rigid shoulders and determined eyes. Her hand motions for the joint as she nods solemnly, eyes downcast while she takes a long drag. “Yeah I. . . I kinda figured it didn’t.”

As the joint continued to be passed back and forth, you could feel the haziness cloud your mind, eyes glazing over and the only thing you could do was stare at Ellie’s hands. Watching as her nimble fingers grabbed the joint from you, thumb rolling over the filter after she toked off it. How when she wasn’t the one holding the joint, Ellie had to keep her hands busy; whether that be running them over the top of her thighs, playing with the bedding, or watching the tip of her pinky finger turn purple as she wrapped a stray piece of thread around it tightly.

You had been so zoned out watching Ellie you’d almost forgotten about holding the short joint, or that no smoke filled your lungs when trying to take a pull off of it. It wasn’t until Ellie’s hand reached out into focus to grab the joint from you did you snap to it.

“You let it go out. Here,” with the joint now in Ellie’s hands, you watched as she held it between her thumb and middle finger, running the flame of her lighter over the tip of the joint before bringing it up to take a haul, keeping it lit. “There you go, babe.” 

The word must have fallen out of Ellie’s mouth so naturally that she didn’t notice it, but you sure as hell did— brain just about short circuiting. With one last pull off the finished joint, you stand up and make your way to the attached bathroom, turning on the tap and running the smouldering end under water to extinguish it before tossing it in the trash. You bend down to the height of the sink, hands cupped to greedily drink down the cold water to soothe your dry throat. When you stand up to be greeted with your reflection in the mirror— eyes red and glazed over, lids slightly droopy when you’re not pretending that Ellie’s stuff didn’t hit you as hard as it did, cheeks flush from the drinks earlier in the night, you know you’re fucked.

Ellie is standing by the desk on the far wall when you lean on the bathroom doorway, head craned as she scans over the trophies and picture frames decorating the shelves above it. With Ellie facing away, you now have the chance to stare at her unabashedly. Eyes trailing over Ellie’s shoulders, broad yet slim, and muscular arms that flex under her flannel with even the smallest of movements. Down to her taught hips hidden behind her relaxed jeans. Her auburn hair sits in a half up half down bun, and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through the strands; braid it, twirl it, pull it. . .

Your cheeks are burning hot again, but this time the alcohol  can’t be blamed for your flushed appearance. With hands still cold from the running water, pressing them against your cheeks in an attempt to cool off works as well as you’d expect it.

When you catch Ellie’s gaze, you’re tearing your eyes away impossibly fast, busying yourself with making it look like the football poster on the wall is the coolest thing ever, “Ya know, for a frat boys room this is surprisingly well organized.” you comment.

“Yeah, this is Ryan’s room.” Ellie fixes a crooked trophy. “Pretty chill dude.”

Humming, you make herself comfortable on the bed, laying down on the soft pillows. As you adjust yourself, a crackling noise comes from underneath the pillow that has you shifting to reach under to grab it. The last thing you expected to pull out was a mens porn magazine, decked out with a raunchy cover of an oiled up man in a tiny speedo. You let out a yelp as you’re tossing it to the other side of the room, wiping your hand off on your pants.

The yelp catches the attention of Ellie, who whips around concerned, “What?” 

“That!” you exclaim, pointing towards the end of the bed where the magazine sits on the floor. Ellie bends down to pick it up, but you’re calling out in protest, “No, don’t touch it!”

“Oh wow,” Ellie lets out a loud laugh as she scans over the front cover, moving to flop down on the bed beside you.

“Ellie, gross put it down!” 

Ellie leans away from you who tries swatting it out of her grasp. “Hold your horses! I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

You groan, watching as Ellie flips through the pages. You don't think it can get any worse, but page after page proves to be more unpleasant when the next portrait of a man posing with nothing but a scrap of cloth to cover his junk comes up. Your lips are downturned in disgust, but your ears are in tune to the chuckles Ellie lets out at the pictures, and her dramatic reading of the explicitly detailed  little captions. 

The next page is folded in on itself a couple times, falling open when Ellie holds the magazine above your heads, “Oh man! How the hell does he even walk around with that thing?” She exclaims.

You turn your head away, fake gagging. “Dicks are so gross.”

Ellie snorts, “Don’t gotta tell me.” Eyeing your side profile from where your head is ducked into your hands, eyes shut. It’s then that Ellie decides to play a trick on you. “Uh. . .” she begins trailing off, ruffling the pages as if she were flipping through them, “Why are these pages all stuck together?”

Your head whips up to look at Ellie, “Gross!”

The laugh that Ellie lets out is straight from her belly, deep and contagious as she tosses the magazine away. “I’m just messing with you.”

When your eyes meet, Ellie’s hold their usual mischievous glint, slightly narrowed and crinkled at the corners where her smile pushes at them, and yours show nowhere near as much annoyance and malice that’s usually directed towards her. Ellie flips onto her back, hands going behind her head while you stay on your stomach. You’re still laughing quietly at the joke Ellie pulled on you, which has the smile on Ellie’s face pulling even higher as she looks at you, oblivious.

With you laying on your  stomach, Ellie was given a full view of your exposed back. It made the collar of her flannel suddenly feel itchy where it was rubbing against her neck. Ellie could feel the red hot flush that blossomed over her as she pictured teasing her fingers along your back. She could practically feel the shudder you’d let out, hear your complaints of being ticklish.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Ellie is snapped out of her daze when your voice cuts through. 

You’ve got your chin resting on your hand, leaning to the side to look up at Ellie who’s sitting taller. Your legs are bent at the knee, legs swaying in the air. The look in your eyes is smouldering; lids droopy as they buzz with something Ellie can only connect with so much need that it's beginning to overwhelm her.

“Like— like that! You’re giving me bedroom eyes.”

“Well,” Ellie sits up a little straighter on her elbows. “We are in a bedroom.”

Your forehead falls to lay on Ellie’s arm as you let out a howling laugh. Ellie’s skin burns through her flannel at the feeling of you on her. Ellie finds herself feeling reminiscent of a time three years ago when she might have found herself in such close proximity to you and it has her chest clenching with a raw ache, knowing she’d gone and fucked it all up.

“Hey,” Ellie begins with a laugh. “Remember that time your mom surprised you and caught you, me, and Dina all smoking—”

You remember in that instant why you’d been so determined to get out of being locked in a room with her. Although inebriated, it seemed that for a little while tonight you and Ellie had managed to slip back into something similar to that of your old friendship. As if you had almost looked past the last three years. Falling back into joking with each other like it was the most natural thing.

“No.” You’re firm, tone dripping with finality. “You don’t get to do this.” 

“Please—”

“Ellie. No.”

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear her. Ellie herself almost misses the words slipping past her lips, but she feels you go stiff, the sound of your sharp inhale rings in her ears. She can't help herself when her hand moves up to your head, brushing some of the strands behind your ear and twirling the ends.

Three years of waiting. Three years of wanting and avoiding, and the need to hear those words fall from her mouth, and all it took was getting locked in a room together and sharing a joint. You’d imagined the apology a few times. Ellie showing up on your doorstep, soaked to the bone in the rain, on her knees grovelling her apologies. Sending flowers. Some huge declaration of love.

But not in a frat boys bedroom, stoned with Ellie Williams.

“Do you remember how we first met?” Ellie continues when you don’t speak, still twirling your hair around her finger. “Homecoming freshman year. Dina said she had someone from her compsci class to introduce me to and I was ready to clam up because I’m terrible with new people. But then there you were—”

“Ellie—” you try cutting her off.

“—Vodka in your nalgene, and being around you just felt so easy. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever met. Even later that night when I held your hair as you puked all over that poor lady’s flower bush. She came out yelling and all you did was say something about fertilising her plants.” Ellie laughs as she recounts the day you two met.

Your headache from earlier is back as you pull away, your hair falling from Ellies fingers. Shutting your eyes in hopes to quell the splitting pain resting just between them, Ellie’s voice fades slightly to the background of your focus. God, you hoped to get out of there soon. It had already been long enough, and it had led to your guard being brought down.

Ellie’s still talking when your ears focus again,“—for the last three years I’ve been trying to work out how to apologize to you and make things right, but fuck, none of them are good enough. And I’m so incredibly sorry about how everything turned out.”

“Ellie.” you interject, sounding exhausted. “Please just stop.” 

She shakes her head, sitting up and moving closer to you, “No, please. If this is the only chance I get at this I need you to listen to me—”

“It won’t change anything, you know that. You still did what you did.” You rub at your eyes and shift away from her.

“And it was by far the worst thing I’ve ever done, and believe me there's been a lot of fuck ups on my part. If I could take it back and make it right I would. . . I will.” 

Ellie’s practically on her hands and knees begging you to hear her out for just a moment, but the hurt of her leaving you stings just as fresh as it had in the beginning. All you can do is shake your head and try putting some distance between the two of you, “Ellie, you’re being mean.” 

It seems that in your attempts at putting some much needed distance between you and Ellie, you failed to notice how close you were to the edge of the bed. You’re about to fall off when Ellie reaches out, her arm wrapping around you to keep you on the bed. The two of you are closer than ever before, her forehead is pressed against yours as she scoots back, bringing you further onto the bed with her arm still secure around you. Your breath stutters in your chest as Ellie’s eyes fall shut. 

“Baby just. . .” Ellie breathes out shakily, eyes opening again to meet yours. “I clammed up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow down the lump that’s formed in your throat, voice just above a whisper as you speak, “Ellie why are you doing this?”

She shakes her head against yours, bringing the hand that she had around your back, up to cup your face, “I hope you’re willing to forgive me. . . or at least try to.”

To hear Ellie make this attempt after wanting nothing more for three years had your mind short circuiting in an electrifying blaze. You know that you shouldn’t give in to her, that this apology is probably no more than a half-assed attempt at easing whatever guilt she may hold. Why wait three years? Three years you had spent wondering what you had done wrong for her to throw away whatever it was you two shared.

Ellie watches your eyes glaze over slightly, and in what might be a lapse of judgement is quick to make her move while you’re still stunned, moving forward and kissing you. You grow stiff under the weight of Ellie’s lips on yours, eyes open and looking at Ellie’s shut eyes. With your face now sandwiched between both of Ellie’s hands, do your eyes fall shut and mind catches up to the fact that Ellie William’s is kissing you. 

You’re kissing Ellie Williams.

The kiss is all consuming, tasting of the tequila and whiskey on your tongue. It’s messy with the clashing of teeth, nipping of lips and hands tangled in hair. All rational thought is thrown out the window once you feel her body pressed against yours. Breathing is the last thing on either of your minds as one of Ellie’s hands splays out across your back to pull your body into hers solidly. The searing heat of Ellie’s hand on the exposed skin of your back has you shuddering,  arching into her to try moving away from the touch. 

Your lips stay moulded together as Ellie rolls onto her back, taking you with her, hands holding onto your hips. Ellie can’t get enough of you, her breathing is heavy as she pushes her lips a little harder against yours, a groan escaping the girl's throat as you fist at her flannel. You break apart for a moment so Ellie can shrug out of  her flannel, admiring the swirls of ink marking her right forearm before your lips are on her.

Your teeth are lightly nipping at the slim expanse of Ellie’s neck, hands wandering down the firm muscles of her arms. You’re sitting up together now, you seated in Ellie’s lap, legs on either side of her thighs. Your teeth are still working at Ellie’s neck, which you follow up with sloppy kisses to soothe the sting of making your mark. Ellie’s eyes fall shut at the feeling, but she has to stop before it gets too far. 

Tonight is all about you. 

Grabbing a fistful of hair and gently pulling your head out of her neck, Ellie leans into you, but doesn’t let her lips touch your skin, just letting her hot breath fan over you. Her nose is nudging the column of your throat up to the hook of your jaw. You’re whining, filled to the brim with impatience has you shifting in Ellie’s lap in the attempt to get closer, grinding your hips where the two of you meet.

Ellie groans, dropping her head fully into your neck, lips pressing firmly to your collarbone. Here, your perfume wafts up her nose, a sickly sweet and seductive twinge that has her mouthing at your neck in the same fashion done to her own. Lips dragging lazily up from collarbone to the pulsepoint where your heartbeat thumps erratically beneath the skin. 

With your head thrown back and hips starting a slow and steady drag, you’re all heavy pants and loose whines that never fully slip past your lips. The friction caused by your hips grinding down onto Ellie feels euphoric all the same as not being enough. One of her hands is still stationed on your hip, the other taking place at the small of your back to aid your movements against her. 

The breath in both yours and Ellie’s throats is choked out when the fabric of your jeans catches against your bundle of nerves in just the right way. It must feel just as good for Ellie as she’s grinding her hips up into you at the feeling, panting against your neck. 

“Ellie.” Her name slipping past your lips in a garbled mess of need, “Ellie, please. . .”

She only hums in response, finally kissing you again. It doesn't last as long as you’d have hoped as Ellie pulls away slightly to speak against you, “Mmh, what is it baby? C’mon.”

Your hips cant down into her again out of pure desperation as you pant out, “More.”

Suddenly, you’re being guided by Ellie’s capable hands to lay down on the bed. But in your still muddled mind it feels as if you’ve just gone down the slope of a rollercoaster, stomach dropping and heart in your throat. Ellie is situated above you, looking everything like a dream with her short hair falling around her face, eyes catching the light of the desk lamp and sparkling. She smiles down at you as you both take a moment, and your stomach somersaults, legs locked around her taught hips to pull her down closer to you. 

Dropping to her elbows, Ellie’s body is flush against you as she brings a hand up to grab your face, “What is it you need? Hmm, baby’s gone all needy on me.” The teasing lilt to her tone has you pushing your hips up against hers, lips searching for hers again. Ellie pulls back slightly, getting a better look at your flushed appearance, apples of your cheeks bursting a bright pink.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You pant out.

A smirk pulls at her lips as she dips down to kiss your neck. “I am touching you baby.”

You groan, frustrated and needing for her to do something. “Want your mouth, your fingers. Anything. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

Ellie’s kisses trail down your neck to your still clothed chest, where she graces the swell of your breasts, followed by grazing her teeth over your nipples poking through the fabric. She continues her way down until she reaches the waistband of your jeans, eyes flickering up to yours for confirmation. When Ellie hears you breath out a wispy yes, she’s working at undoing your pants. You’re kicking off your shoes and aiding her in taking off your pants by lifting your hips, her fingers brush over the skin of your thighs in a hot trail.

Your pants and underwear are tossed to the ground with a dull thud, now laying before Ellie bare from the waist down. Her eyes are hungry, looking like a woman starved of everything she’s ever needed. The intensity of her eyes taking you in has you closing your legs self consciously, but Ellie tuts and spreads them open again, laying on her stomach between your legs.

“Look at you, so wet for me.” Ellie purrs, dragging her middle finger through your folds to collect some of your slick. You gasp at the touch, gaze locked on Ellie whose eyes roll back into her skull as she sucks your slick clean from her finger. “So fucking sweet baby, I knew it.”

“Ellie please. . .” you mewl, growing impatient.

Without another second wasted, Ellie’s head is level with your cunt as she licks a bold stripe from your hole up to your clit. Her mouth is hot against you, and even though you’ve just started the feeling is so overwhelming that your legs move to clamp around Ellie’s head. Her strong arms curl around your thighs, prying them away from her head, pinning them down against the bed as she moves your feet to rest over her shoulders. 

Something delightful burns in your stomach as Ellie’s tongue moves through your folds again, warm and wet. A pleasurable sigh leaves you, head thrown back and eyes shut. Your hands are trying to find hold of anything, one gripping at the bedspread and the other wrapped around Ellie’s forearm, feeling the ridges of muscle and tattoo beneath your fingers.

Ellie’s tongue passes through you a couple more times before she’s wrapping her lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into her mouth. “Mmm, tastes like heaven baby.”

You’re a needy, gasping mess beneath her. Your moans are music to her ears, and Ellie thinks they are the hottest thing she’s ever heard, encouraging her to keep going. Ellie releases your clit from her mouth with a pop, flicking her tongue over it has your hips bucking up into her face for more, “Fuck. . . right there Ellie.” 

Her groan vibrates through you, rustling the tightening coil that sits heavy in your belly. Ellie keeps giving you exactly what you wanted, working at your cunt like it’s her last meal. You pry your eyes open and the sight of Ellie between your legs pulls a loud moan from the back of your throat. Her pale veiny hands tighten their grip on your thighs, fingers pressing into your flesh deliciously. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anything as good as this, with Ellie’s nose nudging at your clit as her mouth moves lower on your cunt, running her tongue along your entrance once, twice, before dipping in. She’s groaning into you, spurring you on. You release your grip on Ellie’s forearm to palm at your breasts, gaze locking with hers from over your mound. Ellie’s hand moves from your thigh to encase your hand with hers where you palm at yourself. 

Ellie takes this moment to catch a breath, leaning her head against your leg. The bottom half of her face is slick, glistening with your arousal that her tongue licks from her lips. She’s panting in a similar fashion to you. “Doing so good f’me baby.” The kiss she places to your inner thigh has you jostling into her touch. 

“Ellie. . . more, I need more.”

She smirks and moves the hand that was on yours back to your cunt, dragging her fingers through your folds and circling them around your clit lazily. It’s too soon that she’s abandoning her ministrations on your clit and moving down to your entrance, teasing her fingers along your opening before she’s pushing them into you.

They move in and out of you slowly at first, Ellie working them up to a steady pace, going as deep as she can,  “Oh god. . .”

“Nope, just Ellie, baby.” She sends you a wink that has you letting out a small chuckle, one that’s cut off by your own moan as her fingers curl against that sweet spot inside you. “My good girl. Lovin’ this, huh?”

You nod weakly, clenching around Ellie’s fingers. She knows you’re probably close, knows that soon, the coil that’s been building in your belly will snap. This has her leaning back down to kiss at your clit. Your hands leave your body and where it grips at the bed to thread through Ellie’s hair, moving the strands that have fallen in front of her face out of the way so you can see her fully. Ellie leaves a series of pecks on your clit before sucking it into her mouth, tongue flicking at it. 

The combined pleasure of having Ellie’s fingers buried deep inside your cunt and her mouth working your clit has the muscles in your legs clenching as you fight the urge to close your legs around her head once again. It’s all too much, your hips are rutting up into her mouth as she continues to lap at you, and you can feel your release hurdling towards you. 

“Ellie,” you whimper, head thrown back against the bed. Your chest is heaving erratically, but Ellie doesn’t let up. The feeling that’s been sitting so heavily in your belly finally lets up as your release hits you, thighs trembling. You twitch and moan as you fall apart against Ellie’s tongue and fingers. The room feels so unbearably warm as your fingers tighten in Ellie’s hair, eyes screwed shut as your mouth drops open in a loud moan. “Fuck! Oh god. . . fuck fuck fuck, Ellie!”

Ellie works you through it, lapping greedily at the arousal that gushes from you, fingers still working steadily as you clench tightly around them. The feeling of her flicking at your clit and fingers curling inside you becomes so overwhelming that you almost push Ellie away from you, but she’s pulling away on her own. 

Both of you are panting, your hands fall from her hair to brush back your own which you’re sure is an ugly tangled mess. You hiss at the loss of Ellie’s fingers as she pulls them out of you, breath  stuttering and catching in your chest as she maintains eye contact with you as she brings them up to her mouth like earlier. Ellie groans at the taste of you on her fingers, acting like a woman starved as if she wasn’t buried between your thighs just a moment ago. 

You hide behind your hands, slightly embarrassed as you let out a laugh. You feel the bed move and soon enough Ellie is above you again, moving your hands away from your face so she can see you properly. She’s smiling down at you, letting out a soft chuckle, “That what you wanted, pretty girl?”

The flush in your cheeks only deepens and you can’t find it in you to form any coherent words, only nodding in response. Ellie’s smile widens —as does yours— as her eyes dance around your face before she’s leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. This kiss is unlike the others you’ve shared tonight, this one is slow, lethargic and full of something you can’t name. 

It’s over quicker than it lasts, a loud banging on the door has you and Ellie pulling away from each other. “Hey, is there someone in ‘ere?” calls out a slurring voice.

In an instant, any and all euphoria mulling about in your body is swept away as you come to your senses. The sounds from the party that still rages on outside filter through the open window, no longer muffled by your cross-faded state. 

Quickly, you’re rolling out from under Ellie, standing up so fast you almost give yourself a head rush. You’re pulling your underwear and pants back on as fast as you can, shoving your shoes on as you ignore Ellie who calls out to you to hang on a second, and the sounds of the door jostling against the frame. 

You need to get out of here as soon as possible. The weight you’re feeling in your chest right now is worse than when the door knob broke and you realized you’d be stuck in here with Ellie for god knows how long. Now, you don’t know how long it's been, but certainly long enough to have landed you in such a sticky situation you don’t know how you’ll recover from this lapse in your judgement. 

Ellie is still trying to get you to calm down when the door swings open on its hinges and in stumbles the drunkest frat boy you’ve ever seen.

“Ellie, what’re you doin’ in ‘ere?” He slurs, using the door to hold himself upright. Suddenly, his eyes light up, “You got any weed?”

She hesitates for a moment, before nodding, “Uh. . . yeah I’ve got some.” Ellie’s shrugging on her flannel and wiping at her mouth with the sleeve, looking between you and who you assume is Ryan. She looks like she wants to say something, brows furrowed deeply, but you don’t give her the chance as you’re squeezing past Ryan.

“Gotta go.” you call out over your shoulder. You hold onto the railing as you hurriedly make your way down the stairs, chest aching with an Ellie sized hole as you wonder what the fuck just happened.

[lesbianslvt666]

hiii i saw that your requests are open🤞🏼 ok one thing i can’t get out of my head is reverse cowgirl with ellie ,, like we all know she’s an ass girl so i think she’d love it

Cw: smut with a bit of plot, birthday girl Ellie, StrapOn!(both kinda?) cum! and spanking and something more but i am too sleepy to remember

The night before Ellie’s birthday you were still struggling to find something to gift her, i mean is not like she has everything or that she was too picky with gifts, but you wanted to make it special.

it was her twenty first birthday and your friends couldn’t come over for a party (her birthday was on a Monday), you wanted to make her day happy still. Until Friday which was when the surprise party was gonna take place, so you needed something to keep her entertained until then.

You looked up from your phone, calling Dina for any advice, but as you were walking back to your place from work you stumbled over a sex shop.

“Hello?” Dina was calling for your name over the phone.

“I was gonna ask you something but i think i found the answer, talk to you later Dins” you hanged up the phone, didn’t let her even say her goodbyes and.

Your eyes scanned the place, small but fun.

Colored LEDs separating different sections.

The gay section had pink lights, the kinky section was lit with red lights and the lesbian with purple ones.

Aha!

Long strap on, two sided and it vibrates.

The pretty pink color paired with holographic glitter.

She was gonna love it.

The next day was hectic to say the least.

You called Ellie as soon as you woke up from your class, hurriedly getting ready and telling her how much loved her and to please save the day for you.

She did.

After the most excruciating hours of your entire college experience.

You finally arrived to Ellie’s.

She opened the door as soon as you nocked.

You didn’t waste no time, as soon as she was in front of you you started to kiss her, hands roaming up her waist to her back to her breast. The pretty gift bag hanging from your fore arm.

She closed the door after you, not once braking the kiss, passion tinting her every move.

Her hands naturally traveled all the way down to your ass, she spanked you once.

With all the force you could gather you separated from the kiss, action that made her groan in frustration.

“I have a gift for you babe!” You said, extending the bag to her, she took the bag and went back to kissing you.

You giggled at her eagerness.

“Please baby, just open it!” You said in between kisses.

“I’ll do it later, right now i want you” and before she went back to kissing you your hand moved to her neck, wrapping your hand around it but never pressing or squeezing.

“Do what i say baby, i know you’ll like it” your words followed by a kiss on the cheek, you walked to her room, removing one clothing item every other step until you both where in her room.

You completely naked, standing in front of her bed.

“You nymph” her words laced with amusement as she took the strap out of the bag, looking up at you.

No time was wasted, for as soon as she saw you all naked and ready she was already getting off her clothes, kissing you on the process.

She sat down on the bed, man spreading while her back rested upon the headboard.

The strap standing proud upwards ready for you, your eyes lit up in lust, crawling up to her, pretty tits bouncing with every move you made.

She couldn’t take your teasing any longer, manhandling you she took you up her torso, purposefully missing the strap, she kissed you while you where un top of her.

You body moving front to back to try and get sone friction, she was too good at this, she always felt this good…

But she stopped your moviments.

Handling you to now give her your back, strap ticking your pussy, she took the rest of the length and massage your clit with the tip.

Your wetness falling from your cunt down your neg and her mouth watered.

She inserted the strap on you, your pussy swallowing almost instantly, you were so needy, so ready to take it.

She gave you time to adjust, cock warming so deliciously, your juices falling to her own pussy, essences mixing with each other on her cunt.

“Can i baby?” Her words patient, lust making her body desperate.

“Yes fuck” you started to move yourself riding her so good with your bubbly ass bouncing on her crotch, the strap hitting inside tour tight warm walls and Ellie felt she was gonna go insane.

Her own part of the dildo inserting so good with every bounce, every move, the shape of it creating friction on her clit.

She spanked your ass every now and then but she was about to cum and she wanted for you to do so at the same time.

Her tatted hand circling, finding your clit and massaging roughly.

You went insane.

The pleasure so intense, both of you feeling like you’ll reach the pick at any second.

Ellie did first, franatically pushing the strap in to you (and herself) so hard she came loudly, filthy words mixed with moans and grunts and so you came after her.

Both rode your highs together. Before you toon off Ellie kissed your ass, pretty cheeks in display for her, so, might as well.

You giggled at her sweetness, falling down to her side cuddling her.

“Let me get you clean” she said trying to stand up.

“Nuh huh, stay here i wanna sleep” she laughed at your words, barely making sense.

She still stood up and cleaned both of you.

Laying down back with you she kissed your forehead.

“Happy birthday baby” your words almost indecipherable.

But she understood with her heart, you are her twin flame, her soulmate, her everything.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round one of the losers bracket

Propaganda:

For John and Jack:

So, they both are literal murders. One of them is a little bit more insane than the other. Okay, the little bit part is not right, totally insane that is John, yes. But gonna love him though. He had been in rehab for alcohol, drugs, sex and murder. Don't kiss him, he might be wearing poisoning lipstick. They are canon mlm. They had been stuck in a two week time loop for five years, which was like leading a married life for them. They didn't actually marry, but they were partners, both in business and sexually. They worked together for an time agency. Then Jack's memories of two years were erased and he left. He went into  independent self deployment, doing scams using his knowledge of future events. After that he build an alien hunting institute in Cardiff, Wales. When John and Jack see eachother again after years, you don't know whether they will they kiss or fight. They do both. Did I tell you that along this story Jack became an inmortal who can't stay dead? No matter how or how often he dies or is killed, he keeps coming back to life. This is all very scraping on the surface, but oh boy, would it be at least a novella to describe them.

They worked together in the Time Agency where they did horrible things to the extent where Jack had two years of his memory stolen so that he couldn’t know what he’d done. They were also in a time loop together for five years where they canonically thought of each other as the wife (John was a good wife :3), and were basically married. Then they had a divorce arc and they both separately went rogue from the Agency to become conmen, although they still worked together/clashed on occasions, always still with that spark of passion. “Frenemies with benefits” Jack called them once, although John preferred “my lover, my rival, my nemesis and destiny. And bane of my bloody life.” Canon finds us where Jack has tried to reform and be a better person, but John is still chasing cons, and all he wants to do is bring Jack back to the stars with him, back to the crime and the glitter of the galaxies (it doesn’t work and he shoves Jack off a building but Jack got himself immortal so he’s fine <3) anyway I am very normal about them xoxo

In John's introduction to the series he shows up on a roof where some guy is mugging someone, grabs him by the throat and dangles him over the edge of the building while this guy begs for his life before dropping him just because he felt like it. When John and Jack interact for the first time in the show there's a super cool guitar riff, very evil western vibes, they walk up to each other, look deeply into each other's eyes, make out, then start throwing punches to Blur's Song 2. In one of the audio dramas we're told about various times where these two conned people, stole a bunch of money and gold and gems and stuff, then had sex with whoever it is they conned before (sometimes) killing them. When Jack devided he was done and left John to die John escaped and married the queen of England (Victoria) then locked Jack up somewhere to take his life force and live forever, destroying the timeline in the process. John has tried to kill all of Jack's friends at least twice to have him all to himself. He found Jack's long lost brother and when the brother turned out to be a terrible person with a vendetta against Jack John did everything he could to save Jack. Their relationship is canon but very one-sided most of the time

just this video

For Dina and Ellie:

They do justified murders, but murders none the less. Is it really that bad to kill a few dozen people with your gf if your trying to get revenge in this big horrible world?

Spoilers, but Ellie decided to go on a big old revenge murder spree and Dina was a super supportive girlfriend and went right along with her. The two of them killed A Lot of people together. Admittedly Dina eventually tapped out on the whole revenge murder thing eventually, but I feel like they definitely need to be in this tournament.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Lamorne Morris.

full name: Quincy Booker Asher-Thompson.

nickname(s) / goes by: Booker.

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man.

sexuality: straight.

birth date: December 11, 1984.

birth place: Atlanta, GA.

arrival to merrock: local.

housing: suburbs.

occupation: pharmacist.

work place: The Medicine Counter.

family: Frederick (father), Adelle (mother), Darnell (brother). He has one daughter, Dina Gabrielle.

relationship status: single.

PERSONALITY

All in all, Booker is a good man and really wants to be the best father for his daughter. No matter what, she is his first priority. He is a logical thinker, driven and very focused on attaining things that he wants. He's quite intelligent and has always possessed a rather quick witted tongue but doesn't lack that light sense of humor to sweeten a little bit of the bitterness. He's learned to take one step at a time with every decision in life instead of doing everything on impulse. He hopes he has grown into someone his daughter is proud of. When he's not working, which isn't often, he can often be found coaching his daughter's softball team or grabbing a bite to eat at Paco's.

WRITTEN BY: Janessa (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: brief mentions of car accident, injury, medical talk, pregnancy.

Quincy Booker Asher-Thompson (don't ask him about why he doesn't go by his first name; he doesn't know either) and his story starts about forty years ago, when he was born in his father's hometown of Atlanta but only remained there for a number of months before the little family of three moved to Merrock, where both his parents found work - his father as a cardiothoracic surgeon and his mother as a dance teacher. Not long after the move, actually only ten months later, his younger brother, Darnell had been born and for the majority of their lives, the two brothers acted more like twins than anything else - they were joint at the hip.

As a kid, Booker had definitely been the more active one and while a little more mischievous than his brother, the two were a duo that were a force to be reckoned with. Booker was usually the one to get into more harmless trouble, but Darnell and their friends, they always kept him grounded, perhaps never quite recognizing just how much he truly needed their attention. He was always the type to stand in the center of the room, to say the last word and drag everyone out to play. Maybe he had his own agenda, maybe he was an attention seeker, but Booker had never been overbearing as a kid, there was something about his smile, his stupid jokes and that never-ending energy that made him who he had been.

As a student, Booker was brilliant. He always seemed to be a couple steps ahead of the other students, and class was rarely a challenge for him. Of course, if Booker wasn't challenged, he always found his mind wandering. That's how the prankster in him came out, something to occupy his time. For years, no one suspected him of the lavish pranks, whether it was the class guinea pig suddenly turning green, the glitter glue on the seat of the teacher's chair, or the poor girl who found a rubber garden snake in her desk. No one would expect the sociable and charming boy to be capable of the elaborate jokes. Eventually, he was found out, but that didn't stop him. Even with the teachers' suspicions focused on him, he was exceptionally clever. At least, for the most part, his pranks were aimed at making people laugh. They were harmless. Booker absolutely loved making people smile and laugh, it was sort of his thing. Due to his charming nature and his exceptional grades, he could basically get away with anything.

High school was an interesting period of time. It was when he got the reputation of being the boy next door disguised as the class clown, being the type that made someone someone feel good about themselves while also being the person that made someone laugh when they weren't supposed to. He let Darnell be the ladies man and only dated casually every now and again. He was an outgoing guy, but no one could say what group he was part of as he was somewhat of a social floater. His energetic personality was an annoyance to some while others were bothered by his constant pranks. Some thought that it was silly that he would stumble over his words because his mouth would move faster than his brain while others were jealous of his intelligence. Booker would say that his behavior would be the way that it was because he hated living in Merrock. He had always been someone who felt like he was more than his "stupid little hometown". In order to feel like he was doing something with his life, he tried out for track and field, ultimately joining the varsity team as a sprinter. He also played on the soccer team as a midfielder and was a photographer for the school newspaper and yearbook.

He needed to fill his schedule with extracurricular activities on top of the job he had as a waiter at the diner because otherwise he'd have to think about how boring and ordinary his life was and that just wasn't something he wanted to do. That's one thing about Booker that could be noted: he doesn't "do" feelings very well, preferring to push it all aside or focus on somebody else instead. Maybe that was why he decided to go into the medical field - helping people is a lot easier than helping himself.

Granted, Booker didn't really have a bad home life - he just didn't enjoy how he felt stuck in Merrock. In his mind, the one downside of living in a town with a small population was that all of your escapades ended up coming back to haunt you eventually, especially if your family was well-known. If he stayed out too late or did something he wasn't supposed to with his friends, chances were that his parents would find out. But despite being stuck in his small town, things were normal for Booker and he was just your average teenager. Though, that normalcy didn't last long. When Booker was entering his senior year of high school, his little brother and their friends were nearly killed in a car accident when the weather turned bad unexpectedly. The only reason Darnell and their friend group survived was because they were all wearing their seat belts. Booker had decided to skip out on the road trip earlier that day in order to hang out with a girl he liked. He barely said two words to Darnell the morning his little brother left for the mountains, too preoccupied with his own plans. It was that day that Booker realized that every moment counted, no matter how small or how big. It made him realize how much his brother really meant to him.

Even though Darnell survived the accident, it left him with several broken bones. In order to help his parents out, Booker decided to help take care of his little brother in any way he could. Whether that'd be taking him to doctor's appointments or helping him with daily activities while he recovered from his injuries, it was what he could do to contribute to taking care of his little brother. Though, he didn't mind because he still had his brother by his side. As he continued to help his little brother, Booker became the person that his mom had always hoped he would be - patient, attentive and unselfish. Safe to say, when he graduated from high school with honors at the age of eighteen, a few months after his brother's accident, he was a very different person. He was still a bit of a troublemaker, as some teachers would've been very keen to note, but he was also hard-working and put a lot of focus on his family.

After taking a gap year, he ended up studying at Vanderbilt University - a new drastic change of scenery, but he'd eventually grown used to it. He absolutely loved the city of Nashville and got accustomed to living on campus rather quickly. He became best friends with his roommate and started dating the waitress at the little restaurant down the street from the comic book store where he worked part-time. Of course, that relationship didn't last long, and then he started dating a girl in his anatomy class… and then a teacher's assistant… the list grew rather extensive as the years went on. The women he went out with were the few who found his goofball behavior endearing. Booker always enjoyed the physical bits of his relationships, he couldn't deny that, but the emotional side typically fell flat with him making terribly cheesy and half-hearted comments. If you were to ask Booker why it is hard for him to stay in a relationship, he'd say that it would be because of his taste in women, but it probably rather has something to do with his slightly flighty, childish behavior that so readily gets bored of the same-old same-old.

For a while, Booker was heading toward a career in being a surgical doctor like his father before him, looking at applying to medical school after he graduated. Though, he gained interest in being a pharmacist during his undergrad years at Vanderbilt. He knew his time at Vanderbilt was only a stepping stone to bigger and better things, he just hadn't decided what the bigger and better were yet. Flash-forward to dissection day in biology lab… and yeah, he almost passed out. That was the moment the light bulb went off and he knew that being a pharmacist was looking exactly like his kind of doctor. So, Booker graduated with his bachelor's degree in biochemistry and then was accepted into the PharmD program at the University of Southern California. He studied really hard to get through school, graduated, then studied extra hard to pass the NAPLEX and MPJE exams, and after all the blood, sweat and tears, he finally got to where he planned to be.

After being a pharmacy intern for many years, Booker finally became a staff pharmacist a few months after he graduated. He stayed in Los Angeles before moving back to Merrock two years later to help his parents after his father had a knee replacement. Moving back to his hometown ultimately brought him the one true love of his life. His daughter, Dina. Before the birth of his only child, Booker was optimistic to still be able to do exactly what he did back in Nashville and Los Angeles, dating around and having one night stands. But after a drunken hook up that happened between him and an old friend where she fell pregnant, he knew he had to put a quick end to any of that.

Even though he only planned to stay in Merrock for a couple of years, Booker has been still living in Merrock. And during the time he has been back, he's been raising his daughter with the mother of his child not too far away, being able to co-parent Dina without any difficulties. It had seemed like everything was working out for Booker - he was content with his life. However, it was only recently that things began to fall apart. Booker has become more head strong with his idea of moving Dina to some place bigger where she could experience more and have more opportunities outside of Merrock. It's put quite the strain on his relationship with the mother of his child after she overheard him talking about his plans. Truth be told, he once again has grown to hate being in Merrock and feels like the small town life is too monotonous. If Booker had it his way, he would have left a long time ago with Dina and never looked back but he's still here and becoming lesser and lesser every day. Time will tell if he'll just up and leave or if he'll learn to appreciate Merrock for what it is.

[blazekurumu]

Precure has some cutie pie babies! And Hugutan is the cutest new addition!

[fqirycollective]

Alexia's Mental Health Headcanons

Hi! This might go without saying, but I am 100% talking about sources and the thing introjects are based off of. Just a disclaimer!!

MLP

Pinkie Pie - ADHD hyperactive type. She is super hyperactive, has trouble focusing on things without an incentive (which can increase dopamine), etc. I headcanon that she uses baking and party throwing as a way to express the individuality that comes from being ND and having ADHD.

Rainbow Dash - BPD and her fp is her pet Tank. Rainbow Dash, with as much as she loves winter, tried to stop it to keep Tank from hibernating. She's also insanely impulsive and has some self destructive habits that are common with BPD.

Discord - BPD, and his fp is Fluttershy. Okay. Discord is literally the embodiment of BPD, in my opinion /lh Fluttershy invited another friend to the Grand Gallopping Gala and he got super angry and felt like she was leaving him. Similarly, he has self destructive behaviors, an unstable sense of self (in my opinion), is impulsive, and is emotionally unstable.

Glitter Force Doki Doki

Princess Marie Angellica - DID. This is according to the core theory, which we do not believe in due to the reason I headcanon her this way. The core theory doesn't have a reason as to why systems can't form past childhood, to my knowledge. In my headcanon, she split her identity into Natalie, Regina, and Dina. The show said that after King Mercenair took over Splendoris, the Princess was insanely stressed and probably traumatized over having to imprison her father. There was the part that was loyal to him, Regina, and the warrior meant to protect, Natalie. She split them into two and decided fate would decide who would win. Her physical form turned into Dina. Anyways, I think this would represent DID really well because they end up as the actual heroes.

Regina - A persecutor (reformed at the end) of the Princess' system and she has BPD, her fp being Maia. Regina has an unstable identity of who she is, is impulsive, has suicidal idealation, and a severe abandonment fear from Maia. She does also fight against the Glitter Force in the name of King Mercenair, her father and cause of the system, and I think a lot of systems can resonate with having alters who are loyal to the abusers and hold their ideaologies (we do, anyways /lh).

Nathalie - A syskid and protector of the Princess' system, as well as an ageslider. I also like the idea of her being a subsystem with Glitter Ace. Her appearance and age varies greatly when she is transformed vs when she's not, and she was also formed to continue to fight against the King. She is 9 or 10 in the show, I think. I also think her being so mature "for a syskid" could stem from the Princess being a princess and having to be responsible at a young age because of that.

Winx Club

Musa - An OSDD-1b system. She doesn't show any sort of symptoms in source, and it's of course never mentioned, but I still like the idea as if she did show any symptoms because it'd be good representation. She had repetitive childhood trauma that I personally think would better suit OSDD-1b instead of OSDD-1a or DID.

Bloom - PTSD from being targetted specifically so frequently.

Riven - has anger issues.

[systlinsideblog]

Part 7

The fall of the great walled city of Turia came on a day shimmering with heat, but with storm clouds building on the horizion, looming heavy as they built into great mounds over the prairies. The air smelled of the promise of rain; that was good, Systlin thought. A good heavy rain later would wash the blood off the streets.

Turia’s towers glittered white in the sun. The walls were high and proud and in excellent repair; the warriors manning the top of it were said to be skilled. Everyone she’d spoken to had told her the same; Turia was home to a million and a half people. Turia was the jewel of the prairies, the Ar of the South. Turia was home to marvelous markets and one could find any luxury one wished there. The people of Turia were grand and wealthy and proud, and though they loved luxury their fighting men were excellent.

Its walls were high and thick. Its wells were deep and never ran dry. There were food stores to outlast the greatest of sieges. The nine gates were thick and strong and guarded zealously; while attackers died at the walls, the people of Turia would relax in their bath houses and dine on delicacies and laugh.

Turia was splendid. Turia was rich. Turia had been sieged many times, but never once had Turia fallen.

Systlin rolled her neck and shoulders, cracking any tension out.

She remembered Myr. Turia reminded her strongly of it. Myr too had been rich, and strong, and undefeated. Myr as well had thought itself safe behind tall, thick walls and strong gates, guarded by skilled fighters. Myr as well had laughed at the army camped on the plains before it. The walls of Myr had famously been bound in Power, power laid so deeply and thickly by generation after generation of Myrish earth witches that there had been more power than stone to the walls. Breakers before her, born to the desert, had tested those walls. Breakers before her had exhausted themselves against them and failed and died.

She had tried herself against them anyway. She had not failed. There was a hundred foot gap in the walls of Myr now, named for her. “The Mitraka’s Gate,” they called it. The legend of how she’d brought down the famously unbreakable walls of Myr had spread north to the Skyfire reaches and south to Sielauk before she’d even left the deserts.

Turia’s walls were not as high or thick as Myr’s, and they were not spelled for protection. Against a Breaker of the least power they’d be useless, and Systlin was the strongest Breaker ever to live. She eyed the warriors on top of them, still out of bowshot, and for a moment felt a flash of pity for them.

It was gone quickly. She wondered how many of those proud men had women chained to their beds. A million and a half people, but that number did not, she knew, count slaves. Counting slaves, it was said that the number was at least twice that, and likely higher.

Foicatch was watching her. He had not been at Myr when it fell, but he had been there since. He’d ridden through the Mitraka’s Gate. He knew, of course, that she was remembering.

“Been a bit,” He said at last, as they waited for Myr to send out its famous tharlarion cavalry, and honestly though she found herself growing fond of the kaiila the Wagon Peoples rode and could admit that the vicious reptilian tharlarion were impressive, she wished she had a good, normal horse. “Since we had a real battle before us.”

“Hmmm.” She agreed. The last time, indeed, they’d been fighting a mad god and his creatures. She’d killed a god, in that battle. Killed one god and threatened another. “Do try not to die. I’d hate to have to find a new royal consort.”

A snort. “I’ve no intention of dying today. I want to see you on the throne of that city.” A pause. “I’ve always had rather a fantasy, actually, of you on the throne of freshly conquered city, and me on my knees…”

Oh. Well. That did sound interesting. She gave him an appraising look. “Have you? You could have said something.”

“Well. It’s always been so busy when we’re breaching a stronghold, and things were all happening so fast at the time. You were so intent; I wasn’t sure you’d take it well.” A shrug. “Early days of us and all. By the time I knew better, you had the North in line again, and when we fought the Fallen One there weren’t many strongholds to breach or thrones to make use of.”

That was fair. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She said thoughtfully, even as the great gates ground slowly open and ranks of fighting men on those two-legged sharp-toothed reptilian beasts began to file out. She eyed the gleaming lances they carried disapprovingly; those were, of course, going to be the first thing she did away with once things got going.

Using her power in pitched battles was risky; she did not like doing it to kill. Not more than needed. But shattering some lances was no issue at all.

He grinned, that familiar and beloved flash of white teeth against that dark beard. “Oh, excellent.” He shot the enemy cavalry a look, and then looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. She nodded once. He leaned over, and she leaned to meet him; they exchanged a kiss, brief but sweet, and he peeled his kaiila away and headed to take command of the left flank.

She looked back over the prairie. There were several thousand riders now, forming ranks. A few men wearing particularly gleaming armor with extra gold leaf seemed to be conferring in a huddle; she waited.

“Ubara?” Dina said softly, from her side. “Ubara, should we…” There was nervousness in her voice.

“Not yet.” Systlin was the veteran of many battles of this scale; Myr was much larger than Turia, and that had been only the first city she’d taken. Dina was not. Even in a seasoned warrior, nerves before battle were normal, but Dina had taken up a spear only a year and a half past. She’d fought and killed, but the other tribes and towns and cities they’d taken were nothing on the scale of Turia. “They’ll send someone to talk, like all the others have. I’ll either kill him or send him back, like all the other times. I’ll break their lances; that will be the signal to charge.”

She looked to her side. Dina’s face was drawn tight. Systlin remembered that Dina, before slave chains, had once been a free woman, and had been born in Turia.

“You have a father, don’t you?” Systlin said, more softly.

“I do.” She whispered. “He never took a slave. He loved my mother, a Free Companion, and never took a slave; he has mourned her since her death. He is of the baker’s caste, as was my mother. He makes sweet rolls and gives them to children, and the best bread and pastries. I do not brag; he was famous in the city, and rich women and men came to buy from us. He and my brothers and I worked hard and were proud of our work.” She paused a moment. “I do not know if my brothers have taken slaves. And if they have…” Another, longer pause, and she looked away. “If they have, I will not beg mercy for them, but I will mourn what they might have been had their minds not been poisoned.”

Systlin thought of her own brother, dead so young. Of laughing and competing and playing with him, of the friendly fighting between close siblings. Of his smile and his laugh, and his sharp wit. She wondered, if her place and Dina’s had been switched, if she could have watched him killed for slaving and rape.

She probably could have. She knew it in the deepest place in her heart, where she worried sometimes at her own coldness. She probably would have done it with her own hands, at that. She’d executed her uncle and aunt with her own hands, in that battle to bring the warring lords tearing the North to bloody scraps to heel. But she was a famously hard and coldhearted bitch when it came to matters of justice, as any noble in the North of Ellinon would tell. “The Iron Bitch”, she knew they called her behind her back. “The Iron Bitch with the frozen heart.”

She’d have done it, yes. But she’d have mourned intensely after, for what might have been.

Dina was loyal and dear to her, a good friend. But if her brothers were rapists and slavers, Systlin knew that even if Dina begged, she would not grant mercy unless the offended girls asked it. It ran counter to everything in her to do so.

Goddess of Justice. The Lady’s voice whispered in her head.

Fuck off, she thought in return. I’ve shit to do.

“We can hope,” she said. “That they take after your father. And we’re not here to loot; if your father is in his shop and not with the fighting men, he’s quite safe.”

That seemed to ease Dina slightly. The woman was still used to the Gorean idea of war, where taking a city meant sacking it utterly, looting and burning and slaving. No army under Systlin’s command would ever fight so, though. She’d kill the soldiers responsible with her bare hands.

“Baker’s caste,” Dina said. “Do not fight, not unless they must. They will not be on the walls. Those on the walls and on the field here are warrior caste.”

Systlin would have to investigate this caste system more thoroughly. She did not like the idea on principle, but it seemed a force of social stability that most Goreans were very attached to. From what she’d gathered there were provisions for moving through castes if one wished. However, she’d heard that some, such as weavers and spinners, were considered ‘low caste’.

Systlin had attempted such tasks before; her mother was fond of spinning and weaving, though she was Queen Mother and needed never touch a spindle if she didn’t wish. After fifteen minutes spent at it, Systlin had come to the conclusion that the work that went into cloth was absurdly complicated and skilled, and had never touched a spindle since. She did, however, have a reputation for never haggling when it came to buying cloth or paying her seamstresses.

Low caste her arse. The idea of any of the most essential tasks…potters, farmers, fishermen, herders…being lower than any others raised her hackles. Perhaps the idea of low or high caste could go…

Across the grassland, a small party of men, led by one of the men in gleaming gold-chased armor began to ride towards them. Systlin put aside other concerns and nodded once to Dina, who nodded back and went to lead the right flank.

Her kaiila could sense that battle was coming, and shifted under her, tossing her head in eagerness. Systlin held her steady, and waited.

They headed, of course, for Foicatch. Systlin sighed and rolled her eyes, and nudged her kaiila forward. The creature sprang forward in that long, loping predator stride, and she headed them off in moments. They glared at her, all hostile intent. She regarded them in what was probably a dismissive manner, but so far as she was concerned these men were already dead. They were nothing that she had not seen on this world already, in the smaller towns that lay outside Turia. She’d killed a thousand like them since coming here.

“You know full well that I lead this army.” She said bluntly. “You’ve heard the stories.” She sighed. “It makes me curious…”

“Stories of trickery and nonsense about sorcery.” The man with the glittering armor said loftily. “A few villages might fall to some unnatural woman, but this is Turia. We will not be afraid of a tribe of women who think themselves the equals of men.”

“…As I was saying,” Systlin raised her voice slightly. “It makes me curious as to the full degree which you, meaning men on this world, are capable of deluding yourselves. I’ve been halfway through conquering towns and tribes and the men would still be telling me that I couldn’t hope to carry through, because I was but a woman.” She shook her head. “Almost sad, really. I’ve an army of  twenty five thousand camped before your gates. I know you have heard the stories of how I’ve conquered cities across the prairies and brought all the tribes of the Wagon People under my rule. I am Ubara-Sana of the plains, by my own hand, and I’ve crushed every force sent against me. And yet here you are, still claiming the same old tired thing.”

She looked him in the eyes. “This is the part where, if you are smart, you will confer with your people and you will open the gates, lay down your arms, and have a chance to survive this.”

He scoffed. Entirely predictably. “This is Turia, woman. The plainsfolk may not have been able to humble you, but Turia will. We’ve ten thousand cavalry, and that is not counting the fighting men on foot. You and your slave girls with swords can batter yourselves to ribbons against us, and we’ll put collars on those of you not killed.” A slow, lewd smile, because apparently he felt he hadn’t dug his own grave deep enough. “Maybe I’ll put mine on you, woman, and teach you to obey a master’s word.”

“Well.” Systlin shrugged. “I did give you a chance.”

She’d learned knife throwing from Stellead, but the Arms Master of the Bloodguard had been dubious of its effectiveness and the instruction had only been basic. It was at the Iron Mountain, under the tutelage of the master assassins of the Master of Knives, that she’d learned how to properly throw a knife.

She’d killed the Master of Knives, of course. He’d taken the contract on her father, and sent out one of his Shadow Hands to kill a king. She’d killed the Brother of Shadow who’d wielded the knife, as well, and many others besides. The Iron Mountain stood empty now, the bones of those she’d killed gathering dust in the halls.

Her knife took the golden-armored warrior through the eye. He looked quite shocked as he slid from the saddle and fell. His men started in rage, and went for their lances.

Systlin smiled at them. Her power rose, a cold sweep through her bones, tingling under her skin. She raised her hand, and flicked her fingers negligently at them, mostly for show.

Their lances shattered into splinters. So did at least five thousand other lances of the leading ranks of the famed thalarion cavalry of Turia.

A great confused sound went up, and thalarion shied at the strange scent of Power in the air, sharp as ozone. And as fighting men scrambled for their secondary weapons, Systlin’s forces charged.

Ice took the first man before her just under the chin. She didn’t quite behead him as her coal-black kaiila shot past, but slashed the big artery on his neck open. Blood pumped, and the sound he made as he fell was a terrible gurgle.

She wheeled her mount and ducked the frantic sweep of a sword. The riders were startled, off balance, and that was death when facing a warrior of her caliber. Her kaiila darted in and took the throat of one of the slower High Thalarions, tearing it open. The beast went down, and its rider with it. Systlin kneed the sides of her kaiila and it leapt; the final warrior managed to parry her first blow, a slicing cut at his neck.

She twisted her wrist, reversed the grip on Ice’s hilt with a little twist and clever movement of her fingers that Stellead had made her practice ten thousand times, and drove it into his chest under his ribs. Drew it back with a sharp jerk as she wheeled her kaiila again, and flipped it back around in her hand. She did not have to think about the motion; she had not missed the catch on the twist since she had been a child training under Arms Master Stellead.

Then her kaiila was running, and she pushed it hard for a few paces until she regained her place leading the center. Lances glittered to either side of her, and she felt a fierce pride in the women she’d trained.

She eyed the gates of Turia, behind the regrouping lines of thalarion cavalry. Arrows arched from behind, as her mounted archers began picking off the front ranks of the Turian forces as they came into range.

Arrows returned, from on top of the walls, and one bounced off of her wraithen-scale armor. She lashed out with her power, still simmering under her skin, and five hundred bows shattered. Cries of dismay went up a second time.

She eyed the great gates of Turia, even as her kaiila gathered itself to leap and the first of her lance-fighters neared the front lines of the Turian cavalry. She eyed them for a half a second before she hit the front lines of the Turians, and she Broke them.

The great gates of Turia, and fifty feet of the wall to either side, crumbled into splinters and sand. There was a great cry of horror and dismay from the city, and cries of “UBARA! UBARA!” from her own warriors, delighted.

And then her front line was smashing into the Turian cavalry, and there was no more time for thought.

The Turians were skilled, but they were off balance, had lost the advantage of their long lances, and had not truly been expecting a proper fight. Systlin and her best lancers hit them like a hammer, and pierced deep into the ranks before the Turians quite knew it was happening. The Turians were down to swords now, and only a few of the rear ranks still had lances. Systlin’s riders had long lances with reach, and their kaiila were faster and more nimble than the high thalarion the Turians rode.

And, of course, they had her.

Systlin was no stranger to mounted combat. She’d ridden with the tribes of the desert at Sura’s side for years, and was as deft a hand at mounted combat as any Rider. She’d never have been accepted, otherwise.

It felt, she had to admit, as she turned a sword aside with Ice and flicked the sword around, down, and up, taking off the man’s sword hand at the wrist, very good to be at it again. The man screamed, but she was past him. A lance glanced off of her armor, and she wheeled her kaiila. The beast snapped, catching a leg, and tore the man off of his mount. His thalarion turned and went for her mount, but her kaiila shook its head and was leaping away before it could do any damage.

Systlin fought with all the skill and speed and cunning she had. She fought viciously, the whole time willing that her army would not fail now, would not quail because this battle was larger and closer-fought than any before. She willed it, imagining that she could throw wide her arms and take under her shadow all of her proud free mounted warriors, and through sheer will alone keep them fighting.

And she did what she had always done, in battle. She led on the front line, and fought like nothing the Turians had ever seen before. Men rose before her and men fell; she was past Power now, and killed with pure hard-won skill and naked steel. She cut faces, necks, torsos, limbs. Ice’s blue-tinged blade was purple with blood, and blood spattered her all over. She killed, and killed, with all the skill of those long hours of training and decades more of fighting for her life. She fought, and killed, her blood sang with it.

You were never made for peace. The Lady’s words. It was true; she knew it was true. She loved battle, though she knew it spoke of her basically coldhearted and vicious nature that she did. She was a warrior born and trained and blooded, and she was at home on the killing field.

She’d fought three wars, leading from the front. She’d won each, and the sight of her at the forefront of her warriors, in her element, bloody and screaming and bringing death with her, was absolute horror to the men of Gor.

The sight that horrified the men of Turia stiffened the spines of her warriors, and to the endless horror of the men of Turia, the former slave girls, now screaming warriors with lances and swords, cut into them with a fury they’d never seen.

With her at their front, her mounted warriors smashed the Turian lines apart, just as the left flank led by Foicatch drove hard at the gap left at the rear, pushing the cavalry of Turia away from the broken gates and cutting them off from retreat into the city. Foicatch himself set himself in the middle of the smashed gate, and Systlin caught glimpses of him engaged in fierce close fighting now and then as foot soldiers pressed forward from the city to try and relieve the cavalry she was driving like a herd of sheep across the prairies before Turia.

But the fighting men of Turia were skilled, and proud, and they began to regroup. Men were shouting orders, and the remaining lances managed to form up defensive lines. The fighting grew vicious, even after Systlin Broke more lances, and their advance ground to a crawl. Their armies were nearly matched; Systlin’s warrior women had better armor and better reach, but the Turian fighting men had more experience, and it began to show as they got their feet under them. Systlin’s troops fought like mad wildcats, and she was so proud; they were still winning forward, inch by inch, but she was not about to spend more lives than she had to.

The Turians began to press back, and her advance ground to a halt. Systlin smiled, because she heard the galloping of the kaiila, and knew.

Dina’s mounted archers swept past, and the women turned on their kaiilas with those short but powerful recurve bows of wood and bosk horn. Strings slid from thumb rings, and three thousand arrows hammered home through that light leather armor that the men of this world favored. The kaiilas wheeled, and the women turned again, as they’d practiced a thousand times, sitting backwards on their mounts. Strings sang again, and arrows flew as thick as rain.

Turians died. Systlin yelled and plunged forward again, and to shouts of “UBARA! UBARA! WHIP-BURNER! CHAIN-STRIKER!” her warriors followed.

The Turians had nowhere to retreat from Dina’s archers, except back onto the lances of Systlin’s mounted spear-women. No rescue came from Turia; Foicatch was stacking the bodies of fighting men four deep in the ruin of the shattered gates.

The fighting outside the city drug out a big longer; it took time to slaughter ten thousand cavalry and their mounts. But caught between Dina’s wheeling mounted archers and their storm of arrows and the lances of Systlin’s cavalry and Systlin’s own sword, they were cut to bits.

It was then that Systlin regrouped her lancers and led them to the shattered gates, where the foot soldiers of Turia were approaching more cautiously than before. The shattered gates themselves were a charnel house; fighting men and women both lay dead alongside wounded and dead and shrieking kaiila, and blood was red over the stones of the road and the rubble of the gates and walls. Foicatch and his warriors held, and the fighting men of Turia seemed reluctant to approach within reach of Foicatch’s sword.

They parted to let Systlin through, and her lancers flowed around to guard the sides of the ranks of warriors.

Systlin joined Foicatch at the front lines. She must look a terrible sight; she was head to toe blood and mud, the colors of her wraithen armor dulled under the coating. Foicatch’s own set of wraithen scale armor was similarly filthy. There was a cut high on his temple, a glancing blow that was not serious but bleeding freely. Even as she joined him she felt a trickle of Power as he flicked droplets of blood away from his eyes.

A lull in the fighting; the soldiers of Turia drew back, appalled at the sight. Foicatch eyed her, gaze flicking head to toe to check her for injuries. She gave him a slight reassuring shake of her head, doing the same to him. The cut on his temple seemed to be the worst of it. She turned to eye the soldiers before them.

“Your cavalry,” Systlin informed the fighting men before them. “Are dead. My throat slitters are making short work of any survivors this very moment. You did not hear the offer I made before, I think, so I will make it one more time. Lay your weapons down now, and you may find mercy. I will not give you another chance.”

Not one fighting man moved, save for the one who yelled in defiance, pulled a knife from his boot, and hurled it at her head.

It was a good throw, she thought, as she twisted her head to the side even as his hand swept up with the blade. It was a good throw. Had she not been taught by Stellead and the Shadow Hands of the Iron Mountain, it might have struck home. As it was, it simply scraped her cheekbone in passing; a shallow cut that would heal quickly and cleanly.

Answer enough, she supposed. Foicatch was already moving, and fell on the knife-thrower with a single-minded viciousness that was poetry to see. Systlin was moving almost as quickly, and that was where the battle in the city began.

It was nasty work. Street by street, driving the fighting men before them. Many of the freed slaves in Systlin’s forces had been from Turia, and as planned they now took the lead. As Systlin had suspected, their knowledge of the city was invaluable; meeting places and baths where warriors gathered were found out. Attacks from small alleys were anticipated. Cobbles went slick with blood. A nasty dagger opened a long cut into Systlin’s left forearm, and some of the slick blood under their boots and the kaiila’s paws was her own. She bound it with a strip torn from her own shirt, cinching the knot tight with her teeth, and pressed on.

Turia was a city of millions; it took hours to work their way through, even with the size of her army. It was late afternoon when at last she realized that any warriors found out were fleeing rather than fighting, and being quickly ridden down by archers. Systlin stopped, at last, sitting high on her kaiila, and knew that she was Ubara of Turia, and by extension all of the plains in truth, by right of conquest.

Dina was staying close now, guiding them through the streets. She saw the same realization dawn on Dina’s face; Foicatch was already smiling that grim satisfied smile she remembered well.

“Take me to the throne of Turia.” Systlin said, and Dina did.

The first drops of the storm hit the bloody dust and thunder growled low when the reached the great palace of Turia. It was in a vast central building, half law chambers and half a throne hall. It was all in the same white stone that the city seemed to favor, with a great dome over the hall where the Thrones of Turia sat. They were very fine; there was, Systlin was sure, wood somewhere under the silver and inlaid semiprecious stones, but it was difficult to make out. She left footprints of blood and mud across the spotless tiled floors.

She’d made instructions clear before the first spear was lifted; her warriors knew what to do. One part of being a leader, her father had said long ago. Is finding competent people that you trust, and then trusting them to do their jobs without your having to hang over their shoulder.

He’d been right. Her people were competent, and she did trust them. So while she waited for her warriors to ferret out the various guild and caste leaders and other important persons, Systlin ascended the nine steps to the dais…it was gorgeously carpeted, and inlaid with ivory and gold…and sat herself down in the larger throne, the throne of the Ubar of Turia.

Foicatch eyed her. There was an answering warm pulse that went down her spine and pooled insistently between her legs; there was nothing like battle to get the blood up. But…She raised her eyebrows back at him. “Not yet.” She said, somewhat reluctantly, and motioned with her chin at the smaller throne, the throne where traditionally the Ubara sat. “Not quite yet. It’s not properly conquered until I explain things to the important people, is it?”

“I suppose not.” But his eyes were lingering on her lips, and slid down over the length of her legs and the curve of her hip even so. She could feel the heat of it, and dearly wished to answer it.

But it was about at that point that people…some of them bedraggled, some begging and pleading, some silent and apparently numbly shocked into silence, all led by her fierce and triumphant warrior women, began to file into the great throne chamber. All were drenched; Systlin could hear rain rattling against the roof now, and thunder rumbling quite often.

They stared. Systlin knew what she must look like. She sat, and waited. Her shoulder ached; she’d been slammed into a wall at one point, and probably had a spectacular bruise. Her arm where she’d been cut stung. Her muscles burned from exertion; she’d been fighting on and off for hours. The cut on her cheek had scabbed, and pulled when she moved or spoke.

None of it mattered. Victory was pounding in her veins along the adrenaline. Even now, she knew, her warriors were removing chains from slaves; she could taste it on the air, and it was as sweet as honeyed wine.  

Goddess of justice and war.

She ignored the voice of the Lady whispering.

Dina was conferring with the other women native to Turia. They looked fearsome; all were armored and armed and bloody. Most of the blood, to Systlin’s immense pride, was not their own. They had wounds, true, but most were not serious, and every warrior will earn scars. They were standing and moving and speaking with a new edge of confidence that had not been there even this morning, and Systlin knew why.

Stories would be told of this, she knew. Stories would be told, and the warriors who’d fought with her to take Turia would be legend in their own right. And they knew it as well; had proved something to themselves that could never be taken away.

Yes, these warrior women would say, years from now. Yes, of course I know of the Fall of Turia. I was there. I fought at the Ubara’s side. There would be looks then, as awed as any Systlin herself had ever received, and she knew in her bones how the legends would be told in decades to come.

Dina of Turia, who led the Ubara’s archers and broke the Turian cavalry with the Ubara.

Sabra of Turia, the first of all who had her chains struck off, who rode with her lance at the Ubara’s side, in her honor guard, and who fought so fiercely that none could stand before her. Never in the battle for the city did she leave the Ubara’s side, and she walked through blood ankle-deep that day.

Hula of Turia, Doreen of Turia, Hireena of the Tuchuks. Tamra of Ar…

The list went on and on, and pride was a bright warmth in her chest.

Dina said something to Sabra, who nodded and turned to cross the hall and climb the steps. Systlin remembered that first day; Sabra clutching, terrified, at her sleeve. There was little trace of the frightened and beaten slave girl now; Sabra was one of her best with a spear, and she wore thick bosk-hide armor sewn with metal plates. Her arms and shoulders were strong, and her blonde hair braided tightly back. There was blood and mud crusted in it, and a vicious bruise showing around one eye. Her nose had been broken at some point, and hastily reset,. The dried blood from it was still on her chin. She was smiling a smile of victory.

“Ubara sana.” She said. “The guild leaders, councilors, and other important leaders of the city are assembled.”

“Thank you, Sabra.” Systlin smiled back, just as fierce. “And well fought. Fierce as a she-panther.”

The grin widened. “Thank you, Ubara-sana!”

“I told you,” Systlin said, still smiling. “You doubted me, but here you stand. When I secure the treasury, you are to take as much as you can carry, as a mark of my esteem. I name you now to my personal guard, for as long as you desire the post, but you must promise to tell me if you ever wish to leave. You were the first to have her chains thrown off, and I’ve no wish to ever bind you with others.”

Sabra blinked rapidly, and Systlin realized that she was blinking back tears. “I will, Ubara sana.” She said. “But I do not think that day will come.”

“Well. If it does, let me know. And I’ve another duty for you; you were the first to take up weapons, even before Dina. If you will, once things settle more in a few days, go among the women of Turia and tell them your story. And if any of them wish it, bring them to me, and help me train them as warriors, as you trained yourself.”

A light like fever lit in Sabra’s eyes. “Ubara sana,” she whispered. “You honor me, and I will do this.”

“You won your honor yourself, with your own hands and by your own actions.” Systlin said. “I merely handed you the tools to do so. Bring them all forward, then.”

Foicatch, she realized, was staring at her with an intensity that was scorching.

“You will never have any idea,” he breathed, very quietly, as her warriors herded the frightened rich and powerful of the city to the base of the raised dais the thrones sat upon, “the effect you have on people. What it’s like to see, from the outside.”

“Hush.” She murmured back, just as softly. “You’re biased.”

“I am. But I’m also right. Every woman in your forces would have followed you to the death this morning, but after this they’d follow you past it as well.”

“Hmm.” She allowed, but it was a pleased sound. “I try only to be what they deserve.”

“Yes.” He said. “Yes, and that’s why.”

She eyed the small crowd at the foot of the dais. They were frightened and soaked from the storm, bedraggled and sullen.

“Foicatch, darling.” She said. “Our guests appear to be soaked. Could you give them a hand?”

He made an agreeable sound and lifted a hand. She tasted Power on the back of her tounge, ozone and burnt cinnamon.

There were gasps and screams as the water streamed and spiraled off of the huddled leaders of Turia. Foicatch pulled it into a hovering globe above his hand, and then rather negligently flicked it aside. It splashed to the tiles, leaving the people in the crowd quite dry.

Dina clicked her tounge against her teeth. “Are you all sorcerers, on your world?” A year and a half of following Systlin, one of the strongest fire witches and the strongest Breaker ever to live, had rubbed the novelty off of seeing Power worked.

“Not all of us.” Systlin lifted a shoulder. “But a good many.”

“My mother’s a stronger water witch than me,” Foicatch said absently. “I’ve only half her gift.”

“Wait until you see him really angry,” Systlin said. “And see him tear the water from a man’s blood.”

“I have.” That was Hireena, herding the Turians forward. Her voice was low, and she looked at Foicatch with deep respect. “At the gates, as we fought.”

“Did you?” She said, with interest. Systlin had seen it done before. It had been….compelling. Hmmmm.

Later. Later. More important things first.

“Turia.” She said, her voice clear. “I greet you.”

Furious, frightened faces looked up at her. Mutters went around. Systlin remembered well what she’d been told.

“I greet you,” she said. “As Ubara Sana of the plains, won by my own hand. But of course, you are Turian, and the power in Turia lies with the merchants.”

“It is so.” One veiled woman said. She was looking up curiously; her robes were of exquisitely fine silks, and embroidered with gold. Pearls hung from the edges of her sleeves, and crystal beads glittered across her gown.

“That,” said Systlin. “May change. I understand, of course, that you’ve already well established trade routes, and I’ve no wish to interfere with them. But I am Ubara Sana now, and the old laws will change. You may have heard that, on the plains, slave chains have been outlawed, and all slaves freed. It is true, and as of this moment by my decree every slave in Turia is freed.”

There was a roar of arguments and shouting and disapproving noises.

“…cannot simply…”

“…My business is slaves! How am I to…”

“…an outrage!...”

Systlin waited them out, patient. As she did, another of the Turian women jogged in through the great door; the rain had washed away most of the mud and blood, but she was limping, a strip of cloth bound around one thigh. She murmured something to Dina, who nodded once and took the nine steps up to the dais two at a time.

“There is a problem.” Dina said. “Saphrar, a wealthy merchant, one of the leaders of the Merchant’s Caste in the city. He’s a fortified compound, and has walled himself up with his mercenary forces.”

“Tell everyone to pull back.” Systlin said at once. “Keep an eye on the compound; let no one escape. After I finish here, I’ll come and tend to his gates myself.”

Dina smiled thinly, and went back down, murmured this to the other woman. The other woman grinned like a wolf, and hurried out, swift despite her wounded leg.

“Have you all finished?” Systlin raised her voice above the crowd.

“I will contract with the Guild of Assassins for this!” A man with thick dark hair and wearing gold and white robes said furiously. He had a hand raised and was shaking a finger at the sky. “I’ll have your head in my vault. I swear it on the Priest-Kings! “

“I take it that you deal in slaves,” Systlin said dryly.

“I do! It is an honorable trade, and I have been dealing in slave meat for…”

Systlin nodded at Dina, who moved quickly. Her knife gleamed, and the man’s throat opened ear to ear. A gurgle, and a red rush of blood, and utter shocked silence.

“Slavery,” Systlin said mildly. “Is one of the greatest crimes, and slavers are condemned to death. Those who procure and deal in slaves for their own wealth are doubly damned. Throw his body to the kaiila; they must be hungry after the fight. What was his name?”

Silence.

“I asked,” Systlin said, voice going cold. “For his name. I expect an answer.”

Another moment of silence dragged out, and then…“Kazrak.” The veiled woman who’d spoken before said. “Kazrak of the Merchant Caste. His mansion is next to mine, and his warehouse is in the low streets, near the slave market.”

“Did he have a Free Companion, any children?”

“Both.”

“Then half of his estate shall go to them, and they shall maintain their home. The other half of his assets are forfeit, and will be redistributed between his slaves, who are now free.” Systlin raised an eyebrow. “Might I have your name?”

“Aphris.” Said the woman. “Of the Merchant Caste. I deal in silks and wine, not people.” She shot a somewhat vicious look at the dead Kazrak, as he was dragged off, leaving a smear of red on the tiles. “And he was cruel, and it does my heart good to see justice done him. I take it then that we, the free women of Turia, are not to be put in slave chains?”

“Bloody pits, no.” Systlin said, repulsed.

“I did not think so.” Aphris said, cool and collected, a point of calm in the angry and terrified crowd. “But many freewomen feared the worst. It is, after all, how war has been done on Gor for a very long time. You can understand the worry.”

It was a reasonable worry, Systlin supposed. “Of course. But have no fear, no hand will be raised against you. You are free, and will remain free. Aside from that, by my laws it will be punishable by death if anyone, from anywhere, ever attempted to enslave you, and I would hunt that man down and kill him for daring to put chains on one of my subjects.”

There were many free women in the crowd, and at the words there was sort of a sigh that ran through them, and a sense of some great tension lifted. The men looked startled. Systlin gestured, taking in the concealing robes all of the free women wore.

“It is no longer required,” she continued. “That you wear full Robes of Concealment in public. A free woman may dress as she likes and go where she likes. If you feel more comfortable in your robes, of course, then you are welcome to wear them, but it is not required. If you choose to set them aside and experience difficulty from anyone, you may make a formal complaint and the matter will be dealt with. I will make people and resources available to deal with such matters.”

A murmur. More looks of outrage from the men.

“Many,” Aphris said. “Will welcome this. But for myself, Ubara, I think I will choose to wear the robes, at least for some time longer.”

“Of course.” Systlin inclined her head. “And I am afraid, of course, that Turia will be judged.”

“Judged?” One man snapped. “Like you judged Kazrak?”

“Yes. Precisely how I judged Kazrak.” Systlin smiled unpleasantly. “There are three great crimes; the murder of an innocent who has done no harm, the rape of another, and enslaving another. The penalty for all three is death.”

Silence. Dead, horrified silence. And then,

“You cannot mean,” another man said, carefully. “That every man who held a slave will be killed.”

“No.” Systlin shook her head. Sighs of relief, but she continued. “Because some slaves, for whatever reason, beg mercy for those who held them. It will be up to any slaves you hold what your fate is. But,” and she grinned again, more horribly. “If a single slave you’ve held and raped chooses death for you, I will put a knife in her hand and hold you down myself for the sentence.”

“What.”

“You cannot mean…”

“Not all…”

“All.” Systlin said, merciless. “Every man in Turia. If a freewoman held male slaves…I’m told it happens…then her life is forfeit as well. I will not abide it. Have no fear; I will establish many courts to see to it. It will take us months to work through the city, but it will be done. And those of you who are guilty, I will hang your bones from the white walls as a warning.”

“You,” Said one man, who had until then been silent, staring angry daggers at her from the front of the crowd. His robes, she noted, were the finest in the room, and edged in purple. “Are mad.”

“Not the first time I’ve been called that.” Systlin said easily. She looked him over, matching up features with descriptions. “Phanius Turmus, I presume?”

“Ubar of Turia.” He confirmed, chin high. “You are defiling my throne, woman.”

“You were.” She shook her head. “But you lost. You’re simply Phanius now, and you’ll be judged with the rest.”

“I think that perhaps I shall contract with the Assassin’s Caste for your head.” He didn’t flinch or break eye contact. “Your head would look well in my vaults, I agree with Kazrak.”

“Oh, please do. I ought to make their acquaintance. It’s been some time since I trained with the assassins of my own world, and tore their master’s throat out with my knife. So yes please, do. It would be an exciting challenge.”

Foicatch sighed resignedly. “Really, love?”

Phanius was giving her a stare of pure and utter horror. “What are you?” He almost whispered. “What terrible hell did you crawl from, to plague us? Have you no respect for those of high caste?”

“My mother would be terribly offended by calling her a ‘terrible hell’.” She made steady eye contact with each person in her horrified and enraptured audience. “The terrible hell is her sister, who taught me to fight. And no. Every caste. From low to high. All will be judged the same. If any have offended in these ways, I will see justice done upon them. No one is exempt.”

“You’ll kill thousands!” One man cried. “Tens of thousands!”

“Oh,” Systlin said, cold as steel in winter. “Hundreds of thousands, I expect.”

“You cannot…”

“Poor choice of words.” Foicatch sighed again. “I could have warned you; there’s no better way to get her to do something than to tell her, earnestly, that she can’t.”

Systlin stood, and let Power rise. Not the terrible cold of Breaking, but her other gift, hot and furious and wild. Fire bloomed around her for a moment, and was gone too quickly to set fire to her clothes. But it had the desired effect. Silence fell. Horrified silence.

“I am not bargaining with you.” She said softly. “I am not suggesting. I am not your old Ubar. I stand here by right of conquest. I breached your walls and killed my way to this throne, and I am going to kill a great deal many more before I am through. The merchants and caste-masters are not ruling Turia any longer; I am.”

She moved a step down, drawing closer to them. “To put this in terms you understand, which I gathered from women you had kidnapped from a world not yours and forced into slavery; you had best get used to this new way, or you will die. I am telling you how things now are. You can flee the city, if you wish, but I will not stop here and I will find you. Be it when I take Ar, or Ko-Ro-Ba, or any other city, I will come. I am going to end slavery on this world, and I fully expect to do it at the point of a sword. I am Ubara Sana of the plains. I rule this city now. These are the great crimes that will be punished, and how they will be punished. This matter is not open for negotiation. If you dislike these words, you are free to take them up with any of the twenty thousand of my soldiers in your city. They’ll be thrilled to discuss them, I am sure.” She descended another step. “Until the courts are established and judging begins, no one is to leave the city. I control the entirety of the plains and other bands of my warriors have seized trade routes. I have the wealth of Turia at my disposal; you will not go hungry. And now, you are free to return to your homes; I have things yet to do tonight. One of you has decided to fight tooth and nail; I’m off to crack him out of his nutshell. Dismissed.”

She swept past, not looking back, and felt their eyes on her back as she went.

[aikatsuandprecureconfessions]

Glitter Force Doki Doki did an interesting thing with its fifth and sixth episodes. It abridges Mackenzie/Makoto's cooking episode into the first half before Bel traps them in Splendorious/the Trump Kingdom in the second half. The next episode shows them escape and incorporates Dina/Ai's introduction. Rather than having a Magical Girl battle, it's recut into the girls just taking care of a lost baby with Mackenzie becoming one of the girls. Not that the dub still has a lot holding it back...

Submitted by: matt0044

[matt0044]

How... interesting.

With Episode 6 of Glitter Force Doki Doki, we have the first part of the episode feature the girls escaping back to Earth before cutting to the introduction of Dina. Basically, that part of the episode plays out like the original except without the Monster of the Day wrecking everything.

It actually was neat to have a story without the usual formula and just have the characters be characters. Mind you, episode merging isn’t my cuppa joe and the obvious shift in the episode’s storyline can be weird. Still props where props are due for going the LBX route and doing it fairly well.

[nappe-plays-the-sims]

Uberhood Story Episode 1 Summary

Figured it might be useful since it’s pretty long. Spoilers under the cut! Episode 2 summary coming soon, as will the Episode 3 summary when that is done of course.

Episode 1

On a normal Strangetown evening while it rains cats and dogs, Olive Specter calls General Buzz Grunt and asks him to come over. She shows him an ancient artifact, temporarily shaped into the form of a Freezer Bunny statue, and summons Lyla Grunt’s ghost. 

Lyla explains that she was blackmailed by a group calling themselves the “World Organization Of Hostile Objectionable Obliterators”, led by Mystery Sim, that wanted her to take the artifact. As soon as she touched it, she was electrocuted and died. It is implied that only supernatural beings can touch the artifact without being harmed. As her ghost disappears, Buzz and Olive decide to move the artifact somewhere else where it can recieve military protection.

Back in Pleasantview, Woodland Park, Mortimer Goth and Dina Caliente are cuddling up on a bench. The former speaks vaguely about a change being on the way, then jumps into the pond to take a swim. Dina goes home and says they will see each other for dinner tonight.

Cassandra Goth recieves a phonecall from Officer Kauker that her father has been forcibly removed from Woodland Park by the police. She remarks that they should be more respectful since Mortimer saved SimNation many years ago, then hangs up. Concerned about her father’s recent impulsive behavior, she asks Don Lothario if he knows what’s happening, since he started acting odd after they got engaged. Don denies it, but flashbacks reveal that Don and Mortimer used to be romantically involved.

In Desiderata Valley, John Mole wakes up next to Sharon Wirth, and shows interest in committing more to their relationship, but she declines. The Grim Reaper, looking like his The Sims 4 self, looks at them through the window, then goes for a swim in John’s swimming pool. Natasha Una watches them through a telescope while wearing a suit of armor. John talks to his parrot, Peggy, and thinks about his time in Strangetown when he tried to solve Bella Goth’s disappearance.

In Strangetown, Erin Beaker finds her roommates Kristen Loste, Lola Curious and Chloe Curious passed out in her room, implied to have been drinking and watching sports games all night while Erin worked extra shifts at the pet shelter due to the cat and dog rain crisis. It is revealed that Erin has a pet wolf named Sansa. The wolf bites her.

In Pleasantview, Dina worries about her relationship with Mortimer, while her twin sister Nina Caliente suffers from flashbacks from when Gordon King broke into their house and got into a fight with her.

Olive magivestigiums into Mortimer’s home. It is said that she tried to kill him over a misunderstanding at some point. Olive tells him that they have to forget about the past and focus on gathering their own army to fight the one Mystery Sim has built, as rumours say that they have found their own artifact and is using it to power up their forces. Mortimer says that “she” (hinted to be Cassandra) said that a storm was coming which shows that her powers are getting stronger, but he doesn’t think they should involve her since she deserves to live a normal life. It is also revealed that Mortimer thinks Bella is dead, but Olive disagrees as she is unable to reach Bella through her artifact. Olive asks Mortimer to gather the people he chose before tonight. Alexander Goth eavesdrops on the conversation.

Alexander wonders what’s going on, and Mortimer declares that they are leaving Pleasantview immediately. Cassandra, home from a date with Don, disapproves and demands answers about Mortimer’s behavior. Mortimer pulls out a remote control-looking item and presses a button.

In Strangetown, Buzz Grunt recieves a call that soldiers assigned to protect the artifact were attacked this morning. One of them says that they saw a woman in a red dress. Buzz yells at them to call John Mole and offers to pay him twice the amount, personally, to open up the case again.

In Desiderata Valley, John gets a phonecall about the case and accepts the job. He calls Natasha to ask her to watch Peggy for him while he is gone. Natasha accepts, but we see that she is standing in the backyard of the house when answering the call, staring down at Marcel Jocque, who has seemingly drowned in the pond. The Grim Reaper, now in his The Sims 2 form, remarks how awful it is (not the death, the rain).

In Strangetown, The Singles household worries about Erin, who is still not home. Chloe angrily remarks that they have nothing to worry about since The Night Beast has been gone for years.

In Pleasantview, Mortimer carries a sleeping Cassandra and Alexander out to his car then drives away.

Dina wonders why Mortimer cancelled dinner at the last minute, and expresses concern to her sister, questioning herself and whether she has done something to upset him. Before Nina can answer, Olive magivestigiums in, furious that Mortimer has ran away from the mission. She explains to them about the World Organization Of Hostile Objectionable Obliterators and says that she has to track him down, and wants to bring one of the people he chose for his army. Dina offers to go, thinking he chose her, but it turns out that Mortimer chose Nina, making Dina feel even more rejected. Nina promises that she will find Mortimer and make him explain himself to her.

In Strangetown, Cassandra is angry with her father for kidnapping her and Alexander. A werewolf approaches their car, as does a vampire. The vampire, revealed to be Virginya Feng, talks to Mortimer, saying that she admires him for saving SimNation with his invention many years ago. Virginya expresses sympathy and bites him in the neck, but is surprised when his blood tastes weird. Mortimer then reveals that he is immune to vampire bites, and also that he is immortal.

Olive and Nina appear, with the former screaming at Mortimer for running away from the mission. Mortimer says that he can’t lose someone close to him again, and says that Dina is better off without him anyway, but Olive protests. She pulls out another artifact, one she found in Mortimer’s home, and approaches Cassandra with it, telling her that it can be used to awaken her powers so she can defend SimNation. Cassandra accepts. Nina punches Mortimer in the face for leaving Dina. After Cassandra goes through some sort of transformation with the artifact, Nina is up next.

Buzz goes to check on how the defense of the artifact is going, and is angered when he sees that all the soldiers are gone. While he is yelling to himself about their incompetence, he is electrocuted by Sara Starr, who is revealed to have left the Kine Society to join the World Organization Of Hostile Objectionable Obliterators. She looks away while Buzz dies, unlike her three helpers Luisa Libros, Optimum Alfred, and Cassandra Goth from an alternate universe (spelt “Kassandra”).

Nina, Cassandra and Virginya hide behind the group’s car. Cassandra’s skin has started glittering after exposure to the artifact for unknown reasons. Suddenly, the werewolf they saw earlier appears, despite the fact that Olive said she was going to look out for it. The trio attacks so the other group won’t kill the werewolf, and a huge fight breaks out. 

Cassandra however, is not fighting physically, and instead starts screaming while seeing visions of people leaving her (Mortimer being abducted by aliens, Don being electrocuted while attempting to repair his stereo, Mary-Sue Pleasant being hit by a satellite, and Goopy GilsCarbo taking Alexander with him with the support of a Social Worker, Alexander happily hugging Goopy). It turns out that Kassandra is producing these visions. She mocks Cassandra’s fears and taunts her, saying that no one actually cares about her.

Luisa, who has managed to win her fight over Nina, makes fun of her, saying that it was easy and that it was no wonder that even the burglar could beat her. Nina gets up and yells at her, causing lightning to hit Luisa and instantly kill her, turning Nina’s skin dark green in the process. The survivors of the group run away, and the trio picks up the artifact.

Emily Emory is surprised when someone knocks on the door of Espiritu Estate, but it turns out that it is the Strangetown police (consisting of Jason Cleveland, Jenna Cameron and Chandler Couderc) coming in for questioning. It is implied that it has happened several times. They ask if Bella Goth has returned to the mansion, to which Emily replies that she has not. The ghost of Isaac Rossum plays with the stereo.

Mortimer, Cassandra, Alexander and Nina are allowed to stay at Olive’s mansion over the night. Olive is worried about where they will keep the artifact, since she can’t keep it in her house much longer, which was why she called Buzz to begin with. The werewolf from before detransforms, and is revealed to be Erin Beaker.

John arrives in Paradise Place, one of Strangetown’s villages, and knocks on Circe Salamis’ door. He asks to see Loki Beaker, but Circe declares that Loki has changed drastically since last time John saw him, and that they have gotten divorced. John asks if he can stay at her place, and she accepts, but points out that he has to sleep in the couch since someone else lives in the guestroom. They talk about how Circe used to own a lot of animals, that she claims to have gotten from Felicity Island and Wanmami Island, and it is revealed that it was Circe who gave John his pet parrot.

Cassandra and Mortimer talk about her right to decide things for herself, even if they could be dangerous, and Cassandra asks him not to keep any more secrets from her. Mortimer thinks about his romance with Don, but still lies to Cassandra and says that he is not keeping anything from her.

Circe and John share a kiss and start making out, when John suddenly pulls away from her and says that he can’t continue since he has a girlfriend. However, Circe doesn’t believe him, and thinks that Loki has hired John to try to manipulate her into handing over Nervous Subject, so she uses a spell to transform John into a cat, and declares that he will be Nervous’ pet now.

[lily-onher-grave]

Safe and Sound epilogue

@eggosandxmen and anyone else who wants post-safe and sound drabbles

Nessarose watches with Nanny at her side. She studies the screen with a fierce, unwavering expression. Not moving. Barely breathing. She has a running list of things she should have said at the reaping. Some are better than others. She watches as Elphaba runs through the valley, biting her lip when she’s being followed, when she’s in danger. She watches her sister befriend the girl who tried to kill her, and she wonders if the Games have caused Elphaba to lose her mind.

When she watches them cornered at the cliff, outnumbered, she mutters an endless, urgent prayer. And when she sees Elphaba scream, sees her cradle the other girl in her arms, she knows what has happened. She knows how it will end. Viewings of the Hunger Games are mandatory, but in a place as large as the Colwen Grounds, it can be avoided. Nessa doesn’t watch after that.

---

Ama Clutch pretends not to watch. She plans meals according to the viewing schedule and disappears into the kitchen each time the television clicks on. But she is paying attention.

When Glinda hesitates after that first night, the Uplands clasp hands and hold their breath, watching with delight. Ama Clutch pauses, a dirty bowl and rag in her hand, and waits. Make the right decision, she pleads. Glinda doesn’t make her move that night, and the Uplands say she’s buying her time. She’s smart that way. But Ama Clutch knows that she’s smart in different ways, too, and maybe those ways will come through.

It changes after the rock slide. Ama Clutch finds herself glued to the screen, watching how it all plays out. She would be amused if she weren’t so terrified. The Uplands, on the other hand, grow more furious every day. They demand Ama Clutch to stop watching because she’s late making meals now, so she brings her old black and white television into the kitchen and watches from there.

By the finale, the Uplands have stopped watching entirely. Ama Clutch feels more than guilty, but she also likes to believe that even without their last moment together, Glinda would have chosen her humanity over the Games. She’s smart that way.

The storm makes it hard to see in black and white, so she sneaks into the living room and watches from there. Her handkerchief is clasped in her shaky hands, but for the most part she’s stoic. It’s easier to accept the end when you’ve been watching it happen all along.

The cameras cut to the girls on the edge of the Cornucopia. Glinda can’t stand up straight, she’s in so much pain, and they’re both weaponless and so, so exhausted. This is the end. All three of them know it. Ama Clutch closes her eyes, takes a trembling breath, and when she looks again Elphaba is holding Glinda, Glinda is holding Elphaba, and for a moment nothing else exists but them.

She steps forward, reaching a hand out. Static hums around her fingers as she touches the screen by Glinda’s face.

“I’m so proud of you, duckie,” she whispers.

After the Games, the Uplands are interviewed over and over again. They become something of celebrities in Frottica, though not necessarily in a good way. They take to blaming the Thropp girl for their daughter’s corruption in the Games. If they grieve, they do it behind closed doors.

Ama Clutch doesn’t know. She disappears from the house before the finale even ends, and she is never heard from again.

---

Dina attends party after party, all of them with overdressed people, overflowing drinks, and television screens covering every moment from every possible angle.

People pick their favorites: the Career pack, that dashing Vinkan boy, a Quadling underdog. Glinda’s screen always has a crowd, and many of them are delighted when they spot Dina.

It’s interesting to see the fans fluctuate as the Games go on. Tributes lose and gain sponsors. Romances are always a favorite, if only for the tragedy of it all. Really, this year isn’t any different. The more time Glinda spends with that green girl, the more people are glued to her screen. Completely normal. It could happen any year.

But it feels different—to Dina, at least. She stares long and hard at the beautiful, clever, deadly, sweet girl on that screen—she stares at her, and she wonders who she’s seeing. Because this isn’t the Glinda who arrived at her room in the Remake Center. This isn’t the girl who glowed in her dresses, who held those glittering shoes to her chest like they were something priceless, who looked up at Dina as if she was just as valuable.

Dina doesn’t know what to think of the green girl. She wants to despise her, blames her wholeheartedly for destroying Glinda’s chances. But as angry as she is, there’s something between them that Dina can only vaguely imagine. She feels as though she’s watching something from a dream: it doesn’t seem real—even if it is, it isn’t within her reach.

The days and the parties go on. Bets continue, stakes grow higher. Dina realizes that, from the moment she met her, she has been fully confident that Glinda would come home. She knows better now, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

At almost every party there is a corner, darker than the rest of the room, where people are downing drink after drink and staring at screens with something different in their eyes. Most of the others pay them no attention—Dina never has—but now she joins them. She’s not old, but she feels like she’s been doing this for far too long. Maybe she’ll take next year off, let the head of her prep team take over.

One night, the worst night so far (“You happened to me,” Glinda says, and Elphaba kisses her, and the city swoons, and Dina downs a triple shot and prays that she’ll blackout by the end of the night), she sees two familiar faces in the party’s dark, miserable corner.

Crope nods solemnly at her, his arm wrapped tightly around Tibbett.

“It’s a good story,” Tibbett says later that night, when they take her outside for some fresh air. “It’s gotten them a lot of attention.”

“It’s killed her,” Dina whispers.

“She’s not the first one,” mutters Crope.

“She was supposed to come back.”

“I think she’s happy,” Crope says. “I think it’s real. She has that, at least.”

“Is it our fault?” Dina asks. “Did we do this to her?”

Tibbett shakes his head. “Don’t ask yourself that. Once you do, you’ll never stop.”

Dina sinks onto the curb and buries her head in her hands. In the morning she’ll avoid reruns of the footage, and she’ll remember the despair she felt the night before, but she won’t remember why.

---

There’s a group in Munchkinland who watches the Games from deep within their homes, beyond any town lines. Some have worked at Colwen Grounds. Many are families of past tributes. Boq’s father is there, sitting silently in a corner. Some of the people he gathered. Others just came. Nest Hardings has been an uneasy district for years, too insignificant to do damage, too distracted to fight anyway. But revolution happens in many ways, for many reasons. Boq was on every television screen, eyes closed, calm, serene. Now he is painted on the side of every building, the corner of every street. He caused more than one explosion when he stepped off that platform.

At first it was just outrage. One small step, and the people are suddenly united, chanting and rioting until the few Gale Force soldiers that patrol out on the farms are driven away. They know it won’t last long, but they fortify anyway. And, always, they watch the Games.

They take hope in Elphaba, in the family that has never laid down for the Wizard. She’s a rally flag—one they know will fall eventually, but take heart in nonetheless. Then, suddenly, she’s not alone, and they are further justified, revitalized. In an unlikely alliance, a brilliant, doomed relationship, they see a glimpse of what their Oz could be.

Still, like their tributes, they will not last. Their defenses are crumbling, their days numbered. When the Gale Force finally break through, they will be slaughtered. Their farms will burn. This home of generations past will be utterly destroyed. But they will not let hope die with them. With nothing to lose, they gather their resources, pool their measly wealth, and send a child out to slip through the guards and into town. Don’t return, they say. Go and live, and tell our story.

They do not know if it works until three days later, when a silver parachute drops from the sky. This is for both of us, Elphaba says, and they know their message has come across. Two worlds united, a glimpse of the Oz that could be. Boq’s father watches Elphaba brush a tear from Glinda’s cheek. His eyes are red when he turns, but his voice is steady as he grabs a pitchfork and torch.

“Let’s go,” he says, and they cheer, voices ringing through the air as they make their last charge, running toward their death, their revolution, their Oz that could be.

---

The train practically flies over the dark countryside, smooth as still water, and still Avaric can’t sleep.

He’s been enjoying the Victory Tour—no, that’s an understatement. It’s been the highlight of his life. His mentor, escort, the entire prep team, and half a dozen other Emerald City citizens have been tripping over themselves the entire trip, obeying his every whim before he can even voice it. They gush over his hair, his outfits, his posture, his best moments in the Games. The people in the districts they visit are less enthusiastic, but it’s obvious that they all fear him, so he doesn’t particularly care.

But he’s glad it’s almost over. They left Pertha Hills this afternoon, which means just one more district, the Emerald City, and then home for the last celebration.

He wasn’t really tired until today. He tries to convince himself that the weary, nagging feeling that came over him today is nothing more than exhaustion from all the parties and traveling. It has nothing to do with the tension that’s starting to build in Frottica, the look in the Upland’s eyes.

“I’ve been hearing things,” his escort had whispered over dinner. The entire table leaned in. “That Glinda Upland was practically a celebrity. Remember her reaping? No one challenged her when she volunteered. Supposedly most of them were afraid of her.”

“She was fierce,” someone had said, raising his glass in respect. “If she wasn’t up against a Tenmeadows, I would’ve bet on her.”

His eyes met Avaric’s, who gave a small smirk.

“She was a favorite,” the escort agreed. “That’s why everyone was so shocked when she…” He drifted off for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, apparently there’s a lot of anger in the district. A lot of girls are bitter that their chance was given to someone who just threw it away. The Uplands have all but renounced their daughter—you saw how ashamed they were today—but they’re still facing a lot of resentment.”

Avaric had excused himself shortly after that. Now he sits on his bed, staring at the Gillikin country side zipping by.

He’s just tired. Even if it’s something more, he’ll get over it. He’s been soaking up the attention just like always, and he’ll continue to do so for the rest of his life. He smiles a little, thinking of the mansion that’s waiting for him in the Victor’s Village. He’ll become a mentor, just like his father, his aunt, his cousin, and both of his grandparents. He’ll get to visit the Emerald City anytime he wants.

In a few years—no, probably sooner than that—he’ll marry any girl he wants and it’ll be broadcast across the Emerald City, maybe across all of Oz. And one day his kid, the next Tenmeadows, will volunteer as tribute.

The last thought troubles him, and he notices his brow furrowing in his reflection. His kid will volunteer as tribute, just like he did. And he’ll make it out a victor, just like he did.

But, he almost didn’t.

He remembers that last fight, grappling hand to hand with Fiyero, the wound in his side burning, his arms and legs trembling, the snow swirling bitterly around them, blinding him to everything but the enemy in front of him. He remembers letting fear show—he couldn’t help it.

He remembers other things, too. That green girl, that Elphaba, who for all her scowls and fireballs was only truly terrifying when she stood near Glinda. And Glinda. He remembers her too well. He remembers thinking that he might just lose to her. There was a moment, near the end, when he thought that if there was anyone to lose to, it should be her.

In truth, he doesn’t remember much about those final moments. The snow, he’s been telling reporters, and that’s the story he’ll stick to for the rest of his life. It was so cold, the wind was so fierce, everything was a blur. He doesn’t tell them that he’s repressed the memories, or that the things he does remember burn into his mind each time he sits alone with his eyes closed.

Elphaba’s face in the torch light, the shadows dancing over her features until she looks more demon than human. Lions snarling on the wind, chasing him to the edge of the trees, to the place where the entire world seems to be ending. A moment, he doesn’t know how or when, with all four of them together. And then, vividly, he sees Glinda, kneeling in the snow, screaming something that isn’t words, isn’t cries, is nothing but pure fury and terror and despair.

He doesn’t know what happens after that. He only knows that he won in the end, just like he was supposed to.