#female trauma is only okay if they “deal with it correctly

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

Okay, Miss Angst Queen, you want angsty scenarios, I shall give you one.

Fem!Reader (You), Diluc and Kaeya grew up together and Diluc develops a kiddie crush on you.

That's why he isn't too happy when Crepus suddenly announces that because Jean's mother had activated the marriage contract between their families, he is now engaged to Jean.

It didn't take Jean long to realize that Diluc doesn't like her the way he like you and she's pretty miffed because she feels you have 'stolen' her fiancé. Her more... over-zealous servants decide to take matters into their own hands and arrange for 'unfortunate incidents' to happen to you.

Eventually, your mother is forced to fake your death and send you to her distant relative in Liyue (Baizhu) when one of those 'unfortunate incidents' come a little too close to killing you.

With Diluc, after his self-exile after Crepus' death, the very first thing he does after returning to Mondstadt is to annul the marriage contract.

( I resubmitted it myself so I can have it in my drafts )

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Character: Diluc

Type: Angst, tragedy, and Reader in her villian era

Tags: Fem!Reader

Requester: @sailorstar9

Content: The female protagonist grew up with Kaeya and Diluc, along with Diluc developing a crush on on you since childhood. However, Jean's mother activated a marriage contract with Diluc's fathers, thus binding him and Jean in an arrange marriage. Jean's servants decided to arrange an event to create an unfortunate "accident" which lead your mother to actually making you fake your death by it and send you to Baizhu, a distant relative. However, unknowingly after Crepus's death along with his situation with Kaeya, he placed himself on self exile and the first action he did when returning, was to nullify his marriage contract with Jean now that he is the head of the family and can decline the contract. ( I hope I got this correctly )

My spin with Angst :) : Years later, Since the reader's distant relative is Baizhu, it would make sense she would have Dendro healing abilities, as Baizhu have been training you to defend yourself and medically educate you. However, ironically, you were in your villain era, You were angry, you felt robbed. This was trauma without you realizing it. Despite being taught to be a catalyst user, you decided, why in the hell would you even try at this point? You decided, a sword would suit you much better.

Trigger Warning: I might be a little violent in this story to stress the Villain Era the reader is in, and also, dealing with trauma so please proceed with caution. I might add cursing a bit, please let me know if you can feel the idea of the reader without the cursing.

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"What you do you mean you are cancelling the arrange marriage!?!" Jean looked at Diluc shocked.

He was standing in her office, unfazed. One word to describe Diluc right now, was tired. Exhausted. Drained. He had no energy to deal with anything, he didn’t want to deal with anything. He lost the person who he loved to some vague accident, he lost his father, and lastly, he lost his brother, metaphorically of course.

"Just as I said, I am canceling this unnecessary contract, I have the right to. The only reason we had this, was only because of the favor my father owned your mother. Consider that favor fulfilled by my servitude to the Favonious knights." He turned to leave without another world.

Jean jumped forward, and walked. "Wait! Wait!" She hugged him from behind. "I haven’t see you in so long, can't we talk this out? Come on, Luc..."

Diluc pushed her away. "Don't ever call me that again, understand? I only tolerated it for the contract. But I never want to hear it out your mouth again. Understand?"

Jean looked at him baffled. "B-But-"

"Understand?" Diluc glared into her eyes, his eyes were soulless reds, in the pits of a fiery empty dead hell.

Jean obediently complied, due to shock and intimidation. "U-Understand..."

Diluc continued to walk out of her office. "There is only one person who is allowed to call me that..."

As Jean watched Diluc walked out and put in all his two week notices for everything and leaving behind a life he once had. To that, he thought, good riddance.

As years, passed by, Diluc went on to be the most successful winery owner over the countries, gaining riches, as his main occupation is to produce wine, and deal with the fatui, and any other monsters at hand.

However, here you are, staring in the mirror in your room. You lived in Bubu Pharmacy with Baizhu looking after you. You glared at the scars on your body. There were deep scarring on your arms, back and chest. So deep, that it could be felt through your clothes if anyone tried hard enough to pay attention.

Red. There was only anger in your eyes. You saw a glimpse of your kind happy face, when you were younger, as it flashed back now. You just wanted to be left alone. You want peace and quiet. You didn’t care for anything. You were just angry.

You were robbed, you lost everything. Angry at almost dying, angry at losing your roots at your home land. Angry that you could have had a happy life, a peaceful life. Yet, you were here in fucking Liyue. Your mother recently passed, months ago, and you couldn’t be there. Why? Because you were in fucking Liyue. You could have healed her, but she kept saying no and to keep your faked death a secret.

She has passed on, that was the last straw, fuck faked death. Fuck being alive or dead. Fuck everything. You are done.

[sophsicle]

can I ask why you decided to add SA into choices? /Gen

Hello lovely! Okay, so, this is going to be a long one, also, potentially obvious, but TW Discussions of SA

Yeah, so, this is actually something I've been thinking about a lot recently and if I were to go back in time I would probably (definitely) do things differently. But there are a couple reasons, 1) With Regulus specifically, I wanted to show how this was someone who had his autonomy and his "choice" stolen from him at a young age and how he never quite recovered from that, never quite developed a strong sense of either of those things (which would then explain some of his actions later on in life). I wanted to show how the abuse he suffered differed from the abuse Sirius suffered - those boys both experienced that house but they didn't experience it the same, so they didn't react to it the same. 2) I wanted to explore the importance of consent, I wanted to explore the importance of setting boundaries, I wanted to have a character who struggled with being touched, not because he didn't want to be, but because he was dealing with trauma. I, personally, really relate to that, so I wanted to write a character who struggled with sex in the same ways I do. 3) I know a lot of people question why I wrote Mary's attack the way I did, but it just felt to me like, if a bunch of bigoted teenage boys were going to attack their female classmate (because Mary's attack is canon) it would involve some form of SA. That's how I've watched boys (not saying that only men are the perpetrators of SA because they absolutely are not but in this instance...) assert their "power" or their "superiority" over the women around me my whole life, and I don't even just mean in the extreme examples of SA but also in the smaller ways; catcalling, casual unwanted touching (hand on lower back, slapping their ass etc.), like sex is constantly used in our society as a way for the patriarchy to exert control over women. And that's ultimately what that attack is about right? It's about the pureblood boy putting the muggle born girl in her place. 4) I think alcohol, especially when you're younger, makes a lot of situations dangerous and I wanted to show how magic really ups the stakes here. Because now you have a bunch of wannabe Death Eaters trying to prove themselves with the ability to literally take someone's freewill from them.

5) I wanted to show the ways that misogyny and racism (aka blood purity) overlap. Like Mary is both a female and a Muggle born and those two identities make her specifically vulnerable. I know that James's reaction to finding out about Mary's SA and Regulus's involvement in it really bothered a lot of people and I get that. I am hoping in the reunion between Regulus and James to have this come up again, and to have James, now that he's older and also less stuck in the grips of trying to save Regulus at all costs, sort of confront him about it. Because I just think handling these things correctly takes time and it takes a maturity which at sixteen is not necessarily there. I also want to point out (and I know I'm going a little off script here), because I feel like this gets lost in discussions of this part of the fic, that like, Regulus doesn't see himself as protecting Mary's rapists, right? Like, he can't even say the word rape, he can't even think it. He vehemently denies that Mary got raped to both Mary and James because he needs it not to be true. He needs to have stopped it from happening, it's the narrative he creates so that he can cope with it and cope with his own trauma.

When he messes with her memories he doesn't do it for Barty really, he does it because he is trying to maintain the allies he feels he needs to survive in the world he lives in. I'm not saying any of that justifies it, I've said before, his actions in that moment are supposed to be horrifying but they are also supposed to be complicated. He's not just a bad person. Like it's not that simple. And James is the one who knows that, he's the only one Regulus has talked to about his own SA and so James knows how twisted up he is about it and that Regulus isn't necessarily able to approach this situation rationally. Which is another reason he can't walk away from him at that point (sorry, again, I know I've gone off topic, I'll bring it back I swear). I don't think I handled these topics perfectly, I think I needed to explain where James was coming from way more when he was trying to forgive Regulus for Mary's attack, I needed to make clear that even though the Mark is what ultimately makes him walk away Mary's attack is still part of that. But I included these storylines because they felt honest to me and because I was working through things with both Regulus and Mary, but I also think I wasn't conscious enough of what the readers needed and how these storylines could be read in a way that was completely the opposite of how I intended (See? I sort of brought it back...)

[littlesniggy]

Princess Part Three

Anon: Hello! I think it’s about time I request princess part 3 🧎‍♀️. I would love to read more if u have any more ideas floating around. (If u can’t think of anything to add disregard this. I love u tho 😉)

Thank you for your request, Anon! I hope it was okay for me to write a third part since it was @pure-kirarin requests originally. I hope you like it!

Warning: 18+, nsfw, degradation, name calling

Pairing: Kid x female reader

Word count: 3.8k

Part One Part Two

It was mere coincidence that she met him again but the moment she saw his ship from afar her heart started racing like crazy in her chest. Why was he here? Memories from two years ago rushed back to her mind, every dirty thing he did with her, every word of praise he uttered to her – everything was instantly present.

“Everything alright, dear?” her husband asked, studying here flushed face with a slightly concerned expression. “Do you have a fever?” she laughed awkwardly and shook her head. “No, everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” She uttered, trying to get her heartbeat under control. The ship disappeared behind a hill, probably rounding the island in search for a good anchoring spot. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the pirate ship which had her filled with slight relief, internally not wanting to them to get caught.

“Are you ready for the meeting, dear?” he asked, holding out his arm for her to take. She smiled back at him, looking confident on the outside but totally distraught on the inside. Would the event from back then repeat itself? Would they come to the castle, her new home and raid it like they did two years ago? Would they kill innocent people? Questions over questions flooded her mind but she had to remind herself to stay focused. She was a queen by now, her husband’s parents passed away last summer on sea on their way to a foreign kingdom. Pirates, most likely.

They walked through long corridors, passing countless doors until they stopped in front of a huge wooden double door. “Let’s hope everything goes smoothly.” He whispered, kissing her cheek before letting go of her arm. The doors opened and he walked in, her following a little behind.

The people in the room stood up, bowing down a little. Her husband nodded as a sign of greeting, she dropped a curtsey and took a seat by his side, hands folded on her lap. He was the one talking. Not because he thought it wasn’t a woman’s job but because he simply knew politics better than her. She attended every meeting, learning each time something new. He wanted her to ‘know the business’ as he liked to call it as well as him. She didn’t complain.

The meeting dragged on forever and she caught herself drifting away with her thoughts countless times, thinking about a certain pirate. It took all her willpower not to start rubbing her thighs together every time she had to think about sucking his dick, him taking her on her huge bed and making her moan in complete bliss.

When it was finally over, hands were shaken, smiles on everyone’s faces. The deal with the other kingdom was a complete success and she was proud of her husband’s negotiation skills. “You did great.” She whispered once everyone was out of ear shot and he smiled at her, giving him a short kiss on the lips. “Everything thanks to you. You’re my good luck charm.” He said, making her blush a little.

The dinner afterwards was a little more pleasant than the meeting, not as tense and a lot of alcohol was emptied by the men. She held small talk with everyone, knowing how to converse with people and how to keep it interesting and not let awkward pauses take over a conversation.

Later that night, when the two were in bed together, her husband already asleep, she was wide awake. She hadn’t heard anything about pirates landing on their island and she felt relief. On the other hand was she a little worried. Concerns about an ambush, looting and whatnot made her mind go crazy. She knew what Kid was capable of and that most encounters with the Kid pirates ended in a bloodbath. So, she made a decision.

Quietly, as not to wake her husband, she got out of bed and hurried into the dressing room, putting on some pants and a hoodie, not making the same mistake as last time and just leaving in her night gown. She exited the room and walked towards the entrance of the castle. The guards looked at her confused when they saw her.

“I’m just going for a walk.” She informed them. “Would your majesty want someone to accompany her?” one of them asked but she declined. She didn’t want anyone knowing where she was headed. “I’ll be back soon.”

When she was outside, the cold air hit her right in the face and she wrapped her arms around herself. Why didn’t she think of taking a jacket with her? Now it was too late and she better hurried to where she suspected their ship anchored.

It took her longer than expected to get to the spot where she imagined them to be. It was secluded, no citizens around and out of side from anyone. Her guts proved to be right when she saw the huge ship and loud laughter from afar. Her heart skipped a beat when she got closer and saw the silhouette of Eustass Kid, sitting by the fire place, surrounded by his crew.

But the closer she got the more doubt filled her body. What, if he didn’t recognize her? What, if killed her? And why did she come here in the fist place? Scenes from back then came back. It was all so familiar, her approaching the crew, not knowing what to expect, not knowing why she left the castle.

Before she knew she was standing there, in plain sight for everyone to see. Heat was the first one to notice her. He raised a hand and pointed at her. The crew fell silent and Kid slowly turned around. She couldn’t see his face, the light of the fire coming from behind him only illuminating his silhouette but she could see his confused eyes. “Who’s there?” he demanded to know. Taking one step after the other she slowly stepped into the light, her hands clutching at her hoodie. Her heart was racing, her mind telling her how stupid she was for mindlessly approaching them. But it was too late now.

“Who’re you?” Kid asked. She could now make out his irritated expression, no recognition on his part to who she was. Her heart sunk at the realization and she made a step back, her body demanding her to run away but she just couldn’t move. “I asked you a question!” Kid got up from his seat, stomping over to her, a hand on his gun, the other one – his metal arm – pointing at her. When did this happen? What did he do to lose his arm?

“You deaf? Answer me, woman.” He stopped right in front of her, his crew not far behind him. She had a lump in her throat, needing a few attempts to finally being able to speak up. “I-I’m…” his intense stare was boring right into her soul and she had to start over again. “I’m Y/n.” she whispered intimidated, her whole body shaking. How was it that he was even more intimidating than two years ago? Last time, she was scared, yes, but this time she was mortified being so close to him, especially since he didn’t remember who she was. For him, she was an intruder, probably with bad intentions. How could she be so foolish?

Kid looked her up and down, a scowl on his face. “Why are you here?” he asked. “I….I wanted to…see you.” Kid had to concentrate to hear her, barking at his crew to ‘shit the fuck up’ when they laughed at her pathetic form. Killer showed up right next to his captain. She felt his eyes look her up and down before he looked at Kid.

“I think I know her. She was the princess from that country we raided.” Kid looked at him confused, obviously not knowing which of the many countries he was talking about. But then it clicked and a huge grin replaced the scowl. He turned his head back to her, realization reflecting in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s the little princess, right?” he let go of his gun and took her chin between his index finger and thumb, eying her face curiously. “How comes you’re here? Have you missed me that much?” her cheeks flushed bright red and she averted her gaze, unable to answer his question.

“Why are you so shy, all of a sudden? If I remember correctly you were pretty damn loud the last time I saw you, Princess.” He chuckled; his thumb swept across her bottom lip. The men around them laughed, one of them whistled.

“Do you live on this island now? It’s a pretty island. Probably a lot of wealthy people here.” He withdrew his hand, leaving her longing for more of his touch.

The realization of his words hit her shortly after and she looked at him in shock. “What? No! Please, don’t do this again!” as good as he had made her feel back then, the trauma of your country, your home being invaded, your people being killed still haunted her dreams. Those were the nights she wished to forget but knew she never could.

Kid started laughing at her reaction, stepping a step back, his hand on his hip. “Why not? Who will stop us? You, Princess?” he teased, leaning down to her, a mad glint in his eyes. “Please….I’m…I’m begging you! Leave this country alone.” Tears started forming in her eyes. Now she knew why she came here. She wanted to confirm what she already knew. She came here to hear him say that they would repeat what they had done two years ago and she needed to stop him!

The captain chuckled amused, straightening his back again and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Usually, people go in their knees when they beg someone.” His voice was cutting through her like a knife. “C’mon, princess. I think I’ve taught you before how to kneel in front of someone, haven’t I?” knowing laughter echoed through the cold air. Embarrassment was written all over her face at the mention of how she knelt in front of him, everyone around them knowing exactly what their captain was talking about.

Hesitantly, she got down on her knees and bowed her head down to the cold ground, her forehead touching the dirt. “Please…..” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “Please what?” Kid insisted, making her repeat herself. “Please, leave my country alone.” “Your country?” He asked, smirking at her kneeling form. “Oh right, you were about to get married! How’s the life as a wife? Making your man as happy as you made me?” he crouched down in front of her, his warm hand patting her head before grabbing her hair and pulling it up, making her yelp in pain in the process.

“Did you learn any new tricks while I was gone?” his voice was low and heavy with suggestion, making her stomach twist at his words. She stayed silent, not wanting to answer this humiliating question. “I bet you did…mind if you show me?” Her eyes were staring back at his but out of the corners she saw the outlines of his dick pressing against his pants. She swallowed thickly, already made up her mind.

She didn’t need to answer to his question. He let go of her hair and got up, not bothering to help her up as well and just walking away, expecting her to follow. “I’ll be back soon!” he informed his crew with a cocky smirk, disappearing into the darkness. She had to hurry as to not lose him, the laughter of his crew following her with every step.

She followed his huge form through the small forest until they stood right in front of his ship. It was huge up close and her mouth was agape in awe. She had never seen a pirate ship up close but it was so exciting. Kid was already on the bridge, waiting for her to follow him. Quickly, she boarded the ship after him, looking around curiously. She kind of felt like a puppy following its master the way she was following him but she couldn’t help it. She was simply drawn to him. No matter how scared she was of him, how moody he could be, the excited feeling took over almost always, throwing all concerns over board.

“Pretty cool, huh? You said you wanted to become a pirate. I guess this is the closest you’ll ever get to become one.” He teased, knowing she would never leave her country. She just wasn’t cut to be a pirate. “Come.” He said, opening a door leading to as small hallway before he opened another door, giving way to his personal quarters.

She stepped inside and he closed the door behind her, not locking it this time. And why should he? She came here on her own accord, he wasn’t forcing her to follow him like last time. His dick was still hard but not as painful as before after having some time cooling down a little on the way here. But the moment he laid his eyes on her the blood rushed right back into his nether region.

She was standing in front of his bed, her front facing him and her hands had already removed the hoodie, leaving her in a thin, almost see-through top, her nipples visible under the fabric. “Fuck, princess.” He purred, taking two steps to stand right in front of her, admiring the perky little nubs.

“Not as shy as I remember but I like it!” he praised, his hand moving under her top, up her stomach to her breasts, fondling one roughly. She moaned, closing her eyes at his touch. Her hands moved over his muscular chest, scratching her nails over his skin. His grin widened and he removed the top, exposing her naked upper body. He licked his lips at the sight, leaning down to bite at the sensitive flesh with his teeth. Another moan filled the room and she opened the two belts he was wearing before opening his pants, letting them glide to the floor.

“Someone’s eager. I like it.” He purred, opening her pants as well and almost ripping them off her body, her panties following right after. “Kid…!” she panted, getting rid of the rest of his clothes until they both were completely naked. He pushed her onto the bed, taking a quick look at her open legs before she closed them and kneeled in front of him on his bed, eye-level with his dick.

Kid swept her hair out of her face, resting his hand on the back of her head. “Such a nice view. C’mon, princess. Show me how you blow your little king.” He purred, making her blush deeply. But she didn’t protest. Instead, she took his heavy dick into her hand, stroking it a couple of times before kissing the flushed tip. She tasted the first dops of his pre-cum, licking it up with her tongue. Kid watched her in amazement. She had changed so much. She was almost like a professional but with better hygiene and more wealth to her name.

“What a good, slutty princess, licking my dick like a lollipop.” At his praise she rubbed her legs together creating some friction. But she didn’t pay it any further mind and instead concentrated on the task at hand.

She closed her soft lips around his head, taking him in more and more. Her hand was stroking the part her mouth couldn’t reach, following the movements of her mouth. Kid groaned at the sight, guiding her head a little with his hand, his hips thrusting lazily against her face.

“Look at me, princess.” She opened her eyes at his demand, looking up at his, a wave of heat instantly rushing down to her core. Kid chuckled and began moving her head a little faster and deeper. Shameless, throaty moans filled the room. Her hand came up and started fondling his balls, squeezing them lightly while he face fucked her, his mushroom head bumping against the back if her throat. A few choked noises left her body but nothing too major. Saliva ran down her chin and just the sight of that could’ve made him cum at once but he held himself back. It would’ve been a waste to cum already, no matter how fucking lewd and sexy she was looking right now.

“You’ve trained quite a lot. Do you only suck your king’s dick or do you go around practice with the guards as well? Either way, he should be proud of his little whore.” Even if she could have she probably wouldn’t have retorted anything simply she didn’t know what. But his words had her pussy clench around nothing. Something about him calling her a whore had her whole body tingle in excitement.

“Good princess.” He praised, his eyes not leaving hers. He just glanced up once, seeing her hips wiggle, showing him how horny she was. “You want me fuck you, princess?” he asked when he looked back at her face. A small, muffled moan was his answer and he pushed her off his dick.

“Get in all four, princess.” He demanded but she hesitated. Irritated, he raised an eyebrow at her. “I said get in all four!” he repeated himself. The princess bit her lip, looking up at him shyly. “Can…can I ride you?” she asked with a weak voice. Kid was surprised to hear her make this request. Usually, the women just followed his orders. This was new. And he liked it. With a huge grin he let himself fall on his bed with his back, crossing his arms behinf his head. “Take a seat.” He invited her, watching her climb over his body, back turned to him. He looked her back up and down, grin even wider when he saw her ass. “What a nice view…”

She took his dick into her hand, the other one braced herself on his thick thigh for support. She raised her body, her core hovering over his dick and she slowly let herself sink on him. It hurt; of course it did. Neither she not he prepared her sex for his dick but over the last couple of years she found out that this made her even hotter. She liked the pain in the beginning, even though it was almost a little bit too painful.

Kid groaned when he felt her heat around him, instinctively thrusting upwards to meet her halfway. She yelped when he filled her out, clenching around him at the feeling. He was bigger than her husband. She could feel his prominent vein that was running over his shaft. She let her head hang low for a moment, letting her pussy adjust to his size before she started moving.

He watched as his dick slowly glided out of her core before she let herself fall back onto hi with a loud moan. “Fuck.” He hissed, closing his eyes at the feeling. His hand came back from under his head, grabbing the juncture between hip and thigh, digging his nails into her skin. “Move those fucking hips, princess.” He groaned. She let him sink in and glide out with each move, watching the show like Kid and feeling her stomach tingle.

It was so much different form her husband, so much more exciting that she picked up her pace soon, wanting to feel him deeper and deeper inside of her. Kid’s hand moved up, grabbing her tit in his big hand, fondling it roughly, playing with the sensitive tissues. She leaned back on him, her hands now bracing herself on his muscular chest for support, moving her hips up and down while the pirate thrusted his hips upwards in tandem.

Soon, Kid’s metal arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back onto his chest, securing her body with said arm and thrusting up into her at an almost abnormal speed, making her see stars. His other hand glided between her legs, finding the swollen nub and circling it almost forcefully. She screamed in pleasure, pressing her back against his torso, feeling his hard muscles work under her and his ragged breathing tickling her skin.

“Kid….Kid I can’t hold it in any longer…!” she moaned, feeling the familiar feeling coil inside her stomach. Kid’s grip tightened and she could feel his grin behind her. “Already?” he taunted her, picking up his speed again, making her form incoherent sentences. “Guess it can’t be helped, princess.” He pressed his thumb down hard on her clit making her scream in bliss. She arched her body as she came with his name on her lips around his cock, tightening around him oh so good.

Kid didn’t stop, his grip got even tighter as he fucked into her sensitive cunt, seeking his own relief. Her whole body was trembling due to overstimulation, her pussy sore and begging for him to stop but soon enough it was replaced by pleasure once more.

“Fuck…princess! You enjoy this way too much!” he laughed to her moans. With a swift move he turned around with her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He started fucking her from behind, reaching even deeper parts of her body. He grabbed her hair with his hand, making her turn her head to give him access to her neck. His lips started sucking on the think skin, ready to leave dark marks. “N-no! My husband!” she moaned but it was too late.

“You have time to think about your husband at a time like this? I think I need to fuck you even harder, princess.” He purred into her ear, before getting up, grabbing her hips in his hands and slamming his hips against her ass, filling her out in all the right ways. “Shit…Kid! Just like that!” she moaned, moving against his hard thrusts. Kid moaned as well, throwing his head back and enjoying the feeling.

It didn’t take long for her to reach her second orgasm, screaming his name and clenching so hard around him, forcing him to cum as well. He was smart enough to withdraw the last second, coating her back instead with his sticky semen. With a grin he stroked every last bit of his cum out, smearing it over her body.

She was lying there, panting heavily, with heavy eyes, ready to fall asleep.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep here. You go right back to your husband. Maybe you can show him what a mess a real man can make.” He purred, already climbing off his bed to go to the bathroom. “Get dressed and fuck off, princess. I don’t need your king becoming suspicious cause you’re gone for so long. We’re gonna leave tomorrow so no worries.” He came back, leaning against the door frame. “We weren’t planning on raiding your cute little country in the first place. But your begging was really good. Hope to see it again someday.”

[duuhrayliegh]

Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

[infinitegalahad]

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ 

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”  

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake,  and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested  in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.  

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

[fiore-rosewood9]

👄, 🌸, 🔥 for the hetalia asks!

Okay. All of this is personal opinion and is not meant to offend anyone. Please do not get upset, these are just my opinions. With that out of the way - here are my personal thoughts and what I think.

First emoji - Which nation do you think has the most fitting voice actor? Whose voice do you think doesn’t work? - So I don't like dubbed anime, most english translated animes tend to sound awkward to me, some do a good job, but in hetalia's case it sounds a bit off sometimes, so I will speak for the subbed/japanese version - I think Francis's seiyuu is really calming. I used to listen to the CD's when I had a panic attack, about the - Count sheeps one, where he brings you lavender and lures you to sleep. I kinda like England's seiyuu but wish his voice was more rough and he uses words like mate, wanker, similar to America's seiyuu who says the word - hero. I love prussia's raspy voice. I get that Canada is a shy soft boy, but I don't like his voice actor. I kinda think Hungary's voice actor does not fit her. I think the guy who voices prussia should not voice greece and estonia too, it kinda sounds like he is using a soft hushed whispery voice for prussia with them to me. I think Switzerland's voice actor should be a guy, if I remember correctly it was a woman. I don't mind women voicing men and vice versa, but I think it is more suitable for characters like Chibitalia, which is voiced by a woman.

Second emoji - top 3 favourite characters - Bulgaria, Seychelles, Prussia. I used to have Prussia's song Mein gott as a ringtone.

Third emoji - Are there any popular/widely accepted headcanons you don’t like? - Yes. Heavy nsfw under the cut. If this disturbs you, the reader, please refrain from reading. Historical/sexual mentions in this post will be used, as well as mentions of the mbti/psychology stuff. This is also a long post since it is a rant, feel free to skip in case you are lazy.

Yes. People assuming that England is a uke. Just give me one solid reason that he is? Neither psychologically, mbti wise, historically or manga wise is he an uke. He is a tsundere. That means rough on the outside, soft on the inside with the right people. I hate how for many reasons, in fan art and even in p*rn if you check it out....he has these weird...anorexic tween girl proportions. On a thin person's body you can see some ribs and England is sometimes drawn as such, but on many fan art he has chibi like, weird almost anorexic body, which confuses me, because it is not possible for 23 year old man to have such body, unless he has some genetical defects + an eating disorder, how tall is he again 175 cm (5' 9") if I remember correctly, so BMI and height are connected, for this height, it is not possible to has the body he has in doujinshis and some fan arts.

APH england is a thin man, he is no longer an empire with power, but he is neither anorexic, nor a tween and doesn't have female hips. Arthur is stubborn bitter alcoholic sarcastic old man who can't cook and is rough but tries his best to be a ''gentleman''. He grieves over his past glory days, when he used to actually hold any power over the world, but even though he is weaker now, he is still strong and tough and has influence. I mean, almost the whole world is speaking english, if that ain't an achievement, I don't know what is. England was never a uke/bottom, and when I ask for people's POV on why they think he is a bottom, I always receive insults and threats and am told to go away. I would wish for people to stop fetishizing/degrading him, when he is clearly proud, stubborn, a bit mean old bitter man who just wants someone to talk to him, love him and appreciate him, because his collegues clearly do not respect him or care much and harshly tease him a lot. I am quite aware of the position he is in, because I know what it is like to have people disrespect you, talk over you or make fun of you. He misses his colonies and still thinks like an empire, actually every ex empire thinks like one, they don't like politics, they like war and destruction and conquering.

America isn't a top. He is a proud bottom, and he feels damn sexy when someone rides him and compliments on how good he is doing. He can be described as a switch, but to me, I see him leaning more towards bottom. America is a really confident and enthusiastic man, he is strong and prideful as well as greedy, but it gets tiring to have all the control and power all the time, have no responsiblities can be relaxing from time to time.

France doesn't hate England for killing Jeanne d'arc as much as people assume. She was his first, innocent type of love and while it is a tragedy he managed to get over it. He took revenge by taking America from him and helping him rebel against England, who is neglectful. People manage to through war, trauma and many horrible things and still survive, despite the pain, it isn't logical for a soft gentle person like france to hold a grudge all of his life, even now.

Also around 2011-2013 some people made memes and joked about francis being a r*pist. I think some people don't understand that some people just have high libido and can't do anything about it. It doesn't make them a bad person. I miss on social cues and rules and the only jokes I understand are  the sexual ones, it is literally the only humour I laugh at. So in this way, he is relateable, despite being inappropriate and vulgar, I just love the shock factor the jokes have. R*pe is not a joke, and he isn't a r*pist. He deserves love, like every hetalia character and like each one of you people. We all just want love at the end of the day, someone to listen to us, and hug us.

Prussia isn't dying. He just represents east germany. He isn't a human.

I really hate how south korea is portrayed as someone who gropes people's butts. It is just as weird as Belarus's wish to marry her brother. This is not much of a headcanon, I just find it disturbing.

North Italy/Canada/England aren't innocent uwu boys who have never cursed or don't know what sex is and refuse to watch porn.

There is nothing cute or cool about the nazi uniforms or parts of prussia and germany. They regret everything they did. But from what I see, a big part of the fandom made it out to be ''sexy'' in the past. There is some fan of it too.

The revolutionary war broke england but it isn't that big of a deal as fans make it out to be. Same with Jeanne d'arc. England was really disliked, almost hated and attacked by his fellow nations. The child he found, America, was the first person to not openly hate him in ages. England took care of him, but england is pretty neglectful him self, he leaves america alone a lot, yet exploitates him. So it is only logical for America to ask France and Prussia to the resque. Even though France becomes broke. But the same can be said about france. France is neglectful towards canada, who nurses back to health England, who is pretty deep into his depression after America leaves. All England could say is - America, America, America, because he can't handle the loss of his favourite colony. Of course this would hurt canada, who was abandoned in favour of his brother and his other father doesn't care about him either. To this day England sometimes still mistakes Canada for America, the only people who never do that seem to be France, Seychelles and America. Probably Japan, Netherlands, Austria and Prussia too. But england is pretty much over it, it is not his whole life and it is not the end of the world. This is why Sealand is taken care of by Finland and Sweden, England makes a lot of basic mistakes as a father.

Russia isn't an emotionless monster. I think due to his life and history, he is what you may call - Emotionally immature. He has childish cruelty and is a bit forceful as well as childish, which is not completely normal for someone his age. However, abuse stuns growth, so it is quite explainable why some nations are more mature and some are more childish. Abuse can also have the other effect, make someone extremely mature for their age, I think this is Latvia's case. He is trying to make friends but his approach is just simply bad. He has a weird energy/vibe and it shows. He goes into people's personal space and wants them to become one with mother russia. This would creep anyone. I think France and China aren't afraid of him, simply because they're too used to his gimmics and he can't surprise them. Russia's tactics become predicatable after a while.

[nny11writes]

For the fic writer ask game: What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write? (Feel free to rant :) )

Hahahaha, sorry were you looking for one trope? 

I’m usually so positive so now you’ve done it. You’ve unlocked me complaining about random shit that doesn’t usually matter. Because the damn busted wide the fuck open! Okay, so I’m going to approach this as outside of smut fics with intense kinks I can’t stand (vore, foot fetish, scat play, etc), because that’s me getting squicked and/or triggered and not just tropes that I wish would die in a fire.

My only disclaimer up front is that if you love most of these (hopefully it’ll be obvious which ones I will not forgive/excuse you from), that’s awesome! Go for it! Read it, write it, print it out to loving re-read and paste on the walls! Fandom is, in large part, about finding your niche and enjoying what you enjoy pretty much shamelessly. So I’m not passing judgement on anyone who enjoys reading or writing (most of) these.

CW: rape, sexual assault Also I’ve had a shit few days, so if you don’t want to read someone just being negative and bitching this is probably not the post for you friend. But it all below a cut so people can avoid!

Crossover Fics/Rule 50

My main gripe with this is that without fail a series I love get crossed over with a fandom I either don’t care about or hate. Every time I’ve tried to force myself to read one it’s never worked out for me. Sometimes fics aren’t properly tagged and I’m getting into the setting only for other characters from another fandom to suddenly show up and literally I instantly loose interest. The closest I got to writing a crossover fic, was on FF.net where I had all the characters I wrote for “talking to me” when I hit a big wall of writer’s block in the hopes that writing something so different and strange for me would help. It didn’t. It was interesting for 0.2 seconds to wonder how characters would interact, but then I instantly lost interest because I end up leaning so heavily of character tropes to make it work which, for me, isn’t fun to read or write.

Like, just write fusion! I like fusion! I’m currently writing a SPOP-SW fusion! It allows me to play with characters in a fun world that I already understand, but without the frustration of characters becoming more 2D or very OOC (or both) to force them to interact with one another. Rage Fics

Honestly? If you write and post rage fics, fuck you. Full stop. Fuck you. 

I’m about to tangent, but I swear it’s related. This is the equivalent of someone tagging a character or ship or fandom they hate in a post bashing them or blasting them to hell and back. Fucking beyond rude and obnoxious. That’s what rage fics are cranked up to 11. You are 100% allowed to hate on fandom/character/ship/trope/whatever the fuck, but when you do that shit you are forcing people who enjoy the media to see/interact with your BS because you fucking tagged it to show up where we are. A great example here in SPOP is Catra. I love her! I understand why some people don’t, and they’re 100% allowed to hate her and resent that so many people like her. Recently I went to the Catra tag to find art and fic, maybe some of the top notch meta this fandom puts out if I was lucky, and got stuck seeing post after post after meta post comparing her to another character in the show to explain why she’s an awful person, badly written character, and anyone who likes her (but didn’t like the poster’s fave) was an idiot/asshole/troll/bitch/dumbass and you know what? I went from having a decent time decompressing after a shitty day at work to getting fucking sent around the sun with stress. Like, bro, I’m here to ENJOY myself thanks, and when you tag things I go to for fun and fluff when I’m out of spoons and ready to snap to ranting about hating it, you make me want to scream.

Y’all don’t know how many people are lucky that I write up responses in word so I can get it out of my system and then just DELETE the whole fucking thing. Rage fic is that same fucking set up, but instead of being a relatively quick post (where I can block the poster here on tumblr), it’s a fanfic that people are going to continue to click into over and over and over again for fun only to get body slammed. There’s no way to warn people on AO3 if something is a rage fic beyond not leaving a kudos and dropping a comment. I don’t know a lot of people who read comments first so it doesn’t always work. 

If you post rage fics, grow up. Stop that shit. Fuck you. Instead, try not purposefully interacting with fandom that makes you so mad that you think doing this is an appropriate reaction. Block tags, block users, regulate comments, go whole fucking hog. You should be able to enjoy fandom too! But if you can’t do that without tearing down other people in fandom then you make me want to beat you over the head until you self-isolate to play by yourself in a different sandbox. Seriously. Fuck you if you do this.

Troll Fics

Did you think I came on strong for rage fics? This is worse. 

If you do this? Fuck you. You get NOTHING but my pure rage and if I find this shit I will report you however I can and then shout from the rooftops about it. And I’m sure if you do write troll fics because you enjoy being purposefully offensive and triggering then you’re probably delighted that my reaction to just thinking about this is wishing I had the power to fuck up your life. 

Like, the ONLY thing I can say for rage fic is that at least typically the person writing it actually enjoys some aspect of the fandom or fandom in general. 

Troll fics are just meant to be offensive on purpose and if you write and post that you’re a bad person. No exceptions. You can make different choices and work to become a better person or a good person, but right now, right this second as you do it? You’re a bad person. You should probably figure out why you get so much joy out of posting things with the sole purpose of hurting/triggering/being cruel to others. And you might need help to do that. I legit think you should reach out to people with different opinions from your own to try and break out of it. Get a therapist. Do fucking something worthwhile, because posting troll fics is not worth anyone’s while. Fuck you. Rape as a Backstory

I hope I don’t have to fucking explain why this makes me want to literally explode. I’m purposefully not writing that as R*pe so that people with rape tagged don’t see this.

If you think that rape is the only way to push your story forward or is a great way to give a character “free and easy trauma”, literally stop. Just. Fucking. Stop. There are other ways. Really look at your work, really think about /why/ it’s so important to you that the character /has/ to be raped. Most of the time the real answer is you don’t have a reason you just chose it because you either don’t care, think it’s not a big deal, or never considered other possibilities. There are stories where rape does need to be included, stories that address the topic kindly and/or tag appropriately for it. I’ve read some of these that were really amazing, both short (<1k) and long (>100k) because the author actually took a hot second to address the topic in an intelligent way. Whether that was to dive into how it’s harmful, address their own trauma, or (honestly) even for the smut porn of it but with all the proper tags on it. If you have it to be purely enjoyed by yourself and/or others with dubcon or noncon kinks, cool, good for you, TAG IT APPROPRIATELY. Fucking bless writers who still use “Dead Dove/Do Not Eat” tags y’all are doing great work. But the vast majority using this trope? 

They aren’t that, they aren’t anything like that at all, they aren’t always tagged correctly or at all and that’s by design, it’s often for shock value or a quick ‘well that’s why they’re anti-social’, it’s sometimes used as an excuse for one character to swear off sex until the “right person” comes along to “cure them”, and they shouldn’t have ever been posted.

Redemption Equals Sex/Sexual Karma

I know this is spring boarding a bit, but please stop writing these two tropes. 

I’m exhausted  y’all. And not just because I’m asexual. This trope is disgusting and usually comes with heaps of sexism, racism, and homophobia. If you want to write smut please just write the fucking smut. I’m literally posting smut fic and am planning to work on another one tonight! JUST WRITE SMUT WITHOUT MAKING IT DISGUSTINGLY ANTI-MINORITY GROUPS AND PLAYING INTO HARMFUL STEREOTYPES.  If bad guys become good(ish) guys because a woman saw past their barriers, took care of them, are a surrogate mother, and then had wild and kinky sex with them then it’s a bad fic. Likewise, if a character is punished for having sex, or is sexually assaulted to show that they’re now bad then it’s a bad fic.

If a character’s suffering is rewarded with sex to “cure” them and “make them better” then it’s a bad fic.

There are so many ways that this shit becomes a seriously harmful fic.

Please. Please, stop doing this. I am on my knees. Stop!

I am sick of ‘Draco’s in Leather Pants’ (can’t fucking believe I’m whipping that term out again holy shit what year is it) getting redeemed because they slept with someone and now found a reason to care. Sex leading someone on the path towards redemption is so EXTREMELY rarely handled in a way that’s well done. Just. Don’t. Be an unapologetic villain lover, slap them in an AU where they aren’t a pure villain, but don’t do this. Like I wrote above, I’m also just sick of (usually, but not always) dudes who put rape in to punish (usually, but not always) female characters or to punish weak/pushover characters (usually, but not always males). And equally tired of traumatized characters “casting off their shackles” to enjoy wild and kinky sex because someone with a magic dick/strap/fingers/tongue “showed them it’s okay” and “made it all better”.

Just, don’t. Be a fucking decent human being and don’t.

Character/Reader Fics

I...I really just don’t get this? It’s very uncomfortable to me and I’m assuming that’s due to me being aroace, I can’t read them and if I try to I either become so uncomfortable I stop or so rage filled I stop. 

I don’t mind 2nd person stories, but most of the ones I see are character/reader fics and it’s...like, it’s just bad. Not “cringe” just enjoyable for me. I can’t explain why I hate this so much considering I do enjoy some 2nd person fics. Idk, I really don’t have the words to explain why these bother me so much. :\

I ain’t got an alternative, if you like these you like them, and if you don’t you just don’t. Thank you for tagging so I can avoid. Have fun on your own! Song Fics and/or Audio/Sound Cue Fics

Sorry guys, I just hate it. I can’t really read a fic and listen to music at the same time, it becomes background noise 100% and detracts from both for audio cue fics.

Fuck, just realized I don’t know if people know what those are. Audio/Sound cue fics are fics where you’re reading along and all the sudden there’s a link or URL that you’re supposed to follow to help set up the next scene/enhance it. Hate it. Hate, hate, hate. It detracts from your story and makes it weaker while being annoying and breaking me the reader out of my enjoyment of your story. Hate! Telling me in the A/N that this (or these) are the song(s) you listened to while writing, song(s) you based the story on, or even that you think they’re good songs to get you in the mood for the story is totally okay! I’ll probably ignore it unless I went head over heels for it, in which case I WILL go back and listen to all of them. (Why hello Rhythm and Blues, you punched me in the face and I now listen to every song even vaguely mentioned in the story or A/N, you’re that good, it’s so fucking good guys, I can’t stop talking about this fucking series it’s just so good?????????) Song fics are also typically in this boat for me. And I want to be really clear, not fics where a character is singing in the fic with lyrics written out. That doesn’t bother me, that song is now effectively part of the story and draws me in. But if it’s paragraphs of description before suddenly cutting it’s annoying. Why, oh why, do I put up with this misery? Still looking for a reason For now it is a mystery to me Why, oh why, do I put up with this misery? Still looking for a reason But for now it's ancient history to me

So yeah I’m making an example to complain about the example. 

But question. 

Was that needed? 

All I did was make overly explicit my feelings in this text that was already there in what I’d written. Song fics feel to me like writers who aren’t confident that their writing is good/understandable/relatable and so they are desperately throwing someone else’s creation into their own in the hopes the reader will get it. Friend, I promise you, we’ll get it without the song! The song lyrics detract when they’re just floating out there, and have taken goods fics and made them frustrating. Either that or you think you’re so amazing that your shit don’t stink and the rest of us idiots can choke because of your brilliance. I’ve found several song fics that if I copy and paste them into a word document and delete the song out, I really enjoyed the fic itself on it’s own merits in a way I literally couldn’t with the lyrics in there. Again, if you are weaving music into your fic, weave it in. Have characters sing, write the lyrics out as a character is listening to the music, quote the song in your fic (preferably without it being super obvious. I’m not saying my take on that was the best, but I did write a Catradora fic on giftly request based on a song and I 100% used lyrics from it in my prose and built my whole plot around it without breaking out to quote the song explicitly), just do something that’s not, like, punching me in the face because “clearly I couldn’t get it” or from a fear that “they won’t understand”. At best you seem insecure and unsure about your story, which is fantastic without the song. At worst it seems like you’re saying your fic is so beyond the average reader that we would never understand your vision without someone else’s original content in it.

[sadlyafanofotomegames]

A Road Paved with Bad Endings - Nameless ~The One Thing You Must Recall~

It’s been eighty years since my last one so to remind everyone this is a series about bad ends in otome games - currently I’m talking about the bad ends in Nameless and I already did Lance’s bad endings.  This one’s going to be about Yeonho’s.

Yeonho - Bought Used, Highly Damaged, Needs Proper Care

Oh Yeonho.  Sweet. sweet little Yeonho.  Made to instill mother instincts in young ladies.  Surely his route will just be ADORABLE right...right!?

Okay so Yeonho has some serious issues stemming from an extremely painful past (which is bad enough as a doll but then when translated to human terms YIKES) and most of his route is about confronting that past.  Sure there are cute moments here and there, but mainly its just about how to confront the things that were done to him and how to cope in a more healthy way.

One thing I’m not keen on is that with these kind of characters (I will elaborate on this when talking about the bad ends) I wish they just left out the romance aspect altogether.  So much of this route is about understanding Yeonho’s trauma and how it affects his view of the world, that its not until the last couple of chapters that the writers were like, “oh FUCK this is an otome game they’re supposed to date” and slapped on two or three romantic scenes.  It doesn’t help that in this route compared to the other routes it’s painfully clear that Eri favoring Yeonho can go real bad for both of them if not treated correctly.  I’m worried about them is what I’m saying.

If you are suffering from abandonment and/or other forms of abuse, this route might make you uncomfortable.  I say they do a not-bad job in confronting trauma, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be the same experience with you. 

Also two of these three ending go into the “WTF WTF WTF” end of the bad end spectrum, and they do include implied violence and assault so tread lightly.

Bad End 1 - Unforgiven Doll - Surprise!  YOU Are The First Yandere in the Game!

How to Get It

Eri.  Basic female protagonist in an otome game.  Most female protagonists in otome games range from “blank slate/silent” to “this is clearly a story about this particular gal.”  Eri falls closer to the latter half of this spectrum, but she still shows some of those tried and true female lead traits, mainly her naivete.  This isn’t just to show innocence in this route though: her naive and relaxed attitude toward Yeonho in the beginning becomes a detriment to Yeonho’s growth.  She doesn’t realize until around a quarter into the route that Yeonho’s devotion and to her isn’t just a phase, and she doesn’t know how to confront it at first.  Yeonho wakes her up every morning, makes the same rabbit-shaped eggs every morning, texts her every morning, noon and night, and it gets to the point where he refuses to leave her side.  

One rainy day, Eri’s friends finally have an opportunity to talk to her without Yeonho around.  They’re worried about both of them, and they decide to take the chance to separate them by taking Eri out while Yeonho’s on cleaning duty. Yeonho seems pretty dejected at the idea but still stays for cleaning duty.  But then...Eri gets worried and goes back.  And its a good thing she did, because Yeonho was waiting for her in the pouring rain.  

Now, you don’t have to go back right away though...you could choose to be dismissive and cold when it comes to Yeonho...its not like he’ll ever dislike you for it...

Once Yeonho’s taken inside he’s tending to by Eri.  Yeonho’s not looking so great after getting a rain shower.  He tells Eri he’s cold and doesn’t want Eri to leave but...its not a big deal right?  Leave Yeonho’s side to grab blankets.

Alternatively, you can also be dismissive of Yeonho in earlier parts as well.  At one point you can almost push Yeonho into riding big rides at a theme park  which you know Yeonho doesn’t like but refuses to admit he’s not having fun.  Because its all for Eri. 

What Happens

Seeing Yeonho shivering and sad...Yeonho who would do anything for her...Yeonho who would always be hers no matter how cruel she is...something in Eri snaps.  She WANTS to hurt Yeonho.  

Yeonho doesn’t mind right?  He’d never hate her.  When Yeonho wakes up and sees Eri...he knows what’s going to happen.  And he does let her hurt him.  And he cries.  All he wants is to be cherished.

How I Feel About This One

Honestly when it comes to otome games I expect there’s always going to be at least one route route where somebody goes yandere and/or the main girl gets killed.  But this is the first one I’ve encountered where the the main girl becomes the yandere character.  It was a real shock to me, because all of the sudden I wasn’t just causing Eri to be run over by the truck, I’m causing Eri to be cruel.  When we reach a bad end, our character’s the one who usually gets hurt the most, not the one who directly causes the hurt.  

As such while other endings are theoretically worse for Eri and some of the characters involved in their specific route, this one I just can’t stomach revisiting often.  Hearing Yeonho crying in pain and asking to be cherished makes me feel like my hearts being used as a needle ball...so as a bad end its pretty good!  7/10 stop making me feel bad please.

Bad End 2 - Competitor - Now Yeonho’s the Yandere!  But Wait!  A YANDERE CHALLENGER APPROACHES!!! (how many yanderes are in this game!?  the answer may shock you)

How to Get It

So after you stay by Yeonho’s side while he’s sick and assure him that you’re there for him and that you WON’T become a yandere things seem to start to improve.  Yeonho’s less clingy, and he’s no longer willing to be pushed around by his fans at school (btw all of the boys got fans because they’re all beautiful doll people so yeah.)  Eri’s a little concerned that Yeonho is now being too off-putting, but hey it feels like Yeonho is changing so...that’s something.

Then Eri has to go see her parents at a hotel for dinner (btw her parents travel a lot for work and are mainly based in the U.S. so she rarely sees them thus when they do come by they meet her at a hotel nearby where they usually go to for business.)  Yeonho begins to wonder if Eri’s parents, her family, matters more than him, who’s just a doll.  How can he assure himself that Eri won’t forget him?

Eri leaves promising that she won’t be long.  The visit goes fine, except uh...her parents pressure her into staying at their hotel room for way longer than she planned.  It’d be nice if you chose to say you have to go back, but choosing to stay isn’t what’ll cause the camel’s back to break in this one.  That happens when Eri returns home to see Yeonho, again, waiting for her outside.  It’s not raining, but its cold, and Yeonho looks cold both physically and emotionally.

Now I need to remind you fellows that these boys are not people first: they’re dolls first, people second.  Their world is limited by the very few experiences they had on top of a shelf.  In Yeonho’s case, his experience was being put on a literal pedestal, used essentially as a stress toy whenever his first owner got mad, left on the floor when his owner got bored of him, then left in a very badly put box for who knows how long to be sent to a new owner who, once again, puts him on a pedestal.  Eri takes great care of her dolls, but to Yeonho, this doesn’t mean she won’t abandon him like his previous owner did.  Because his previous owner seemingly treasured him too.

And with the previous bad end, we know Eri is capable of the same cruelty as the previous owner.  And even without that context what’s stopping Eri from abandoning him too?  How can he be permanent in Eri’s heart so that doesn’t happen?  Yeonho doesn’t have the means to see beyond his own experience, so he can’t see how he won’t be abandoned eventually, and even though he’s human now he still sees himself as needing to belong to someone.  What can he do?  He’s not being threatening at this point, he’s just begging for answers.

So what answer do you give?  Well, if you were listening to his plea, you tell him that no, he doesn’t need to do anything to earn love, because he’s already deserving of it.  Yeonho already holds a place in Eri’s heart, and she means that earnestly.  

...Buuuuut if you’re looking for a bad end, dismissively say “eh, just stay by my side like usual.”  This’ll calm him down right?  His deep-seated feelings aren’t that serious.  It’s fine.  It’ll be fine.  Really, it’s fine.

...So turns out it was not fine, because you didn’t give him a real answer.  He still doesn���t know how to be permanent in Eri’s heart.  So he’s going to find is own answers.  Spoilers: the answer he comes to is bad.  For both of them.  In more ways than expected.

What Happens

Oh wait, no he’s fine.  He was cool with that answer!  See, he’s smiling, although his smile is a little off, but that’s fine, because me and Eri are sure that he’ll just go back to his usual self by morning.  Time to go to bed.  

Fun Fact: There’s a diary entry in Eri’s journal that only appears in this ending.  Check it out before Eri closes her eyes.  It’ll be awkward to read it after Yeonho tries to choke Eri to de-oh-OH GAWD YEONHO’S CHOKING ERI TO DEATH!

Another Fun Fact: If you want to revisit this bad ending save right after you made the bad choice.  For some reason in the Memories (the menu that lets you revisit past events) it starts in the middle of the bad ending!  

So it turns out the answer Yeonho came to was, “I guess I need to be a yandere” and kill Eri.  BTW despite being advertised in the Crobidoll line as “babey” for some reason he was given the ability to see ghosts?  So I’m guessing his plan was to have Eri’s spirit tethered to him so she literally can never leave (and thus in his eyes abandon) him.

Funny thing about Yeonho: he’s referenced as similar to a chick a lot in this game.  He’s got corn yellow hair that’s feathery and he’s got big ol’ red eyes.  Except...when he’s chocking Eri, suddenly his eyes don’t look so cute.  His pupils literally shrink.  They’re no longer the eyes of a chick, but the eyes of a snake. 

So Yeonho kills Eri.  Bad End reached.  Pretty typical of a bad ending in an otome game, huh?

Well, JUST KIDDING Tei barges in and stops Yeonho from completing the task.  Phew Eri was saved.  That was close.  Good thing someone as kind and dependable as Tei arrived to help her out right...right?  

Ha...haha...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!

Surprise! Turns out Tei is the Alpha Yandere ‘round these parts.

Friends...may I introduce you to...Bad End Tei?  He’s going to be a regular on the series.  In fact he’s probably the main character in this Nameless Bad End Journey.  He’s a constant shadow that looms across almost all the bad paths we follow.  Just remember in this series we’re going to be talking only about Bad End Tei, not all of who Tei is.  If you want me to talk more about Tei as a whole character you’ll have to wait until we get to Tei’s bad endings, which, spoilers, have a lot of Bad End Tei in it too.  You cannot escape Bad End Tei.

Anyway back to what was SUPPOSED to be Yeonho’s Yandere moment.

After stopping Yeonho from killing Eri, Tei starts by saying he’s dissapointed...at Eri?  She really shouldn’t have let herself be hurt.  Kinda victim-blamey there Bad End Tei.  After all, I’M the one who almost got her choked to death here.  No need to blame her!

Secondly Tei wants nothing more than for Eri, his owner, to be safe.  But if she does get hurt...it should be him who does the hurting.  The reason for this is explained further in later bad endings and in Tei’s Route, but in this ending we discover that Tei is just as obsessed with his owner as Yeonho is.  Difference is Bad End Tei doesn’t need to be remembered by Eri, or even have a place in her heart.  What he wants is Eri herself, and to have that he wants control of her pain.  So when someone else tries to cause Eri pain...well that’s stealing his control of her pain, and that just won’t do.  

Unlike Yeonho, who ultimately just wants to belong to Eri and to never be abandoned by her, Bad End Tei wants Eri to belong to him the same way he belongs to her.   

It’s ironic that a doll wants ownership over the doll’s owner huh.  Feels like maybe bringing dolls to life wasn’t exactly what its cracked up to be.  

Anyway if Eri’s going to get hurt, then there was no reason for Tei to have held back for so long.  If this was going to happen, he should have hurt Eri when this all started.  He justifies that he can hurt Eri better than Yeonho can (weird flex but ok) and its getting late so could Yeonho like, leave?  And even Yeonho in yandere mode is taken aback.  But then he’s like, “No wait I’M the yandere in this bad ending!” and tries to attack Tei.

Tei doesn’t want to hurt or even touch anyone that’s not Eri, but since Yeonho won’t be good and go to bed he’ll just have to put him down.  Even though all the dolls are in human form now, their doll forms are still on Eri’s shelf.  And doing things to the doll forms affects their human forms.  So, instead of going after Yeonho the human...he grabs Yeonho the doll.  And squeezes.

Meanwhile Eri is, quite justifiably, shocked and disgusted by all this.  Yeonho’s a yandere?  Tei’s a yandere?  I could be a yandere!?  How many yandere’s are in this game!? 

While Tei is committing doll homicide he says since Eri’s good at keeping her hobbies (collecting dolls) a secret from her friends, it shouldn’t be hard to pretend that everything’s fine from now on.  Of course, she doesn’t have to pretend she loves him.  So long as Tei can have her, he doesn’t care.

After the deed is done, Tei approaches her.  Eri desperately wants this to all be a dream, but when Tei holds her face she knows its real.  Tei tells her to be quiet and asks if she’d ready.  The last thing we hear is a chime, and the scene fades out.

How I Feel About This One

So this has to be one of my favorite bad endings.  I mean what happens in it makes me go “WTF WTF AAAAAAGH” but in an interesting way, ya know?  The kind that makes my hair stand on end.  It’s a story in and of itself.  The set-up, the plot twist, the monologue, just...mwah.  Perfect.  It’s exactly what I want in my bad endings.

Plus if you’re doing the bad endings in order, this’ll be the first time you see Bad End Tei.  You don’t see Bad End Tei in the routes themselves (outside of his and Red’s, which is only unlocked after you complete all the other routes so at that point you had to have seen Bad End Tei) but suddenly there’s hints of Bad End Tei throughout all of his encounters.  I didn’t say this in Lance’s Bad End Post, but a part of me thinks that maybe Tei had something to do with what happened to Lance in one of his bad endings...there’s no proof, but still.  He was in the room with Lance by themselves when Eri left so...who knows.

This also hints at also aspects of the story.  Bad End Tei’s an obvious hint to who Tei is as a character, but there’s also the use of the doll bodies, and that chime at the end.

Anyway this Bad Ending sets up Bad End Tei’s character in the most dramatic and creepy of ways and if every otome game had bad endings as good (well, not good in that way but-you know what I mean!) as this one this series would never end.  I mean, it won’t if I post every four to five months.  

Also what makes me appreciate this one is that it cuts off before we see what happens to Eri, and it doesn’t go into detail on what Bad End Tei did to Yeonho either.  If we had detailed descriptions of whatever happened I might not have stomached it.  Implication are far more sinister than outright statements.  This is also one of the only Bad End Tei endings where Eri’s vocal about how messed up this is.

Bad End 3 - Disappeared Yeonho - That’s It.  Pretty Anticlimactic Compared to the Previous Endings

How to Get It

So Eri takes Yeonho’s worries seriously and no one turns yandere and Bad End Tei stays firmly in the back of Tei’s mind (btw after you make the good choice with Yeonho once they go back inside Tei gives Yeonho some comforting words.  At their worst they can be cruel to each other, but when they’re not at that breaking point they do have this solidarity with each other, both having previous owners before Eri.)  Things start to improve a lot.  Yeonho can now enjoy things outside of Eri, and is back to being willing to hang out with others.  He’s grown a great deal, and the people around him notice.  Things are looking up for Yeonho and Eri now.

Of course, then the writers realize, “wait romance” and Yeonho needs to like Eri now.  Not as a doll loves their owner, but as a person wanting to be with another person...okay I don’t hate it when its put that way, but I still feel like this wasn’t necessary.  Let me remind you, Yeonho tried to kill Eri in a bad ending because of his fear of her forgetting him.  He was so desperate to remain at her side, and then things get better, but even after all that he still wants to refer to her as “Master” while trying to pursue a romantic relationship with her.  All I’m saying is maybe give each other a little distance for a just a tiiiiiiny bit to figure things out before going into this yeah?

Still they’re pretty cute together in the end.  Things don’t get nearly as saucy as it did in Lance’s route, and its all very innocent and sweet.  I don’t hate it.  Now Tei on the other hand-

Alright alright back to how this bad end goes down.  Before Yeonho confesses to Eri there’s a school festival and he has a fortune reading stand.  (Also aside from seeing ghosts he can also read tarot cards and talk to animals.)  After he read your fortune he tries to make a move, but then a very haughty girl barges in to get her fortune read.  Suddenly Yeonho clams up and runs away.

Where did he go!?  Eri could check the rooftop, where he’s likely to be at...or she can just give up and see if he came home.  

...That’s it.  That’s all it takes.

What Happens

So Yeonho never came home.  They made missing photos and everything!  Where could he be...?

...Yeah that’s it.

How I Feel About This One

Honestly I don’t feel like this one needed to be there.  Maybe it’s because if they didn’t, then for the last few chapter there’d be no need for choices.  But they did that with Lance!  In Lance’s route after the play there’s no choice for the last few chapter, and while he has the shortest amount of bad endings, they both are still creepy and at least a little intense.  Why didn’t they do the same for Yeonho?

I don’t know.  I don’t hate it.  It’s like, nothing terrible happened to characters I love, which is nice, but that’s not what bad endings are for!  They’re supposed to make you feel bad and maybe give you the heebie jeebies!  Or they’re supposed to fulfill some fantasy in a safe way like they do sometimes in Mystic Messenger!  Or be a joke ending where you at least get a chuckle before having to restart!  I don’t know!  Give me Yeonho joining a ghost detective agency with a cat sidekick running away from his past!  Something!  ANYTHING!!!

Anyway overall I really do like Yeonho’s route in its emotionally heartfelt moments and really disturbed by the intensity of some of its bad endings (which make them pretty good in my book!)  Now we move on to Yuri’s route where I need to turn off Yuri’s voice in the options menu to pull through it!  WAHOOO!!!

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Afraid Chapter 2

(So I’m picturing IRL Nikki as I write this, but feel free to picture Douglas!Nikki while you read. I’ll use gifs of both)

1988

Okay, rehab officially sucks. I can’t do anything without these assholes wanting to pry deeper into “where my issues and addiction stem from”. I’m not an addict, I just enjoy getting high from time to time. They had us seeing a psychologist in the mornings directly after breakfast, which was the only good thing around here. Cause that’s what I need after breakfast, to unravel all my childhood trauma. Gag me. Then after that was “free time” to do arts and crafts and basically try to get us to open up more about why we were fucked up individuals. Then in the evenings we did group which primarily consisted of Nikki telling all the workers to fuck themselves, Mick scoffing, Vince trying to fuck the female nurses, and Tommy (oh sweet Tommy) actually participating. I never gave more than the bare minimum necessary. It had only been three days and I was losing my mind.

I snuck away to the greenhouse that was behind the facility to smoke a cigarette, they had tried to prevent us from smoking cigarettes entirely due to wanting us to detox our bodies. Vince had slept with one of the night nurses on day two though and was able to score a pack of cigs for us all. I was lighting mine up and rounding the corner when I noticed the shaggy black fluff standing there puffing his own cigarette. Fuck me. He must have heard my lighter because he turned his head toward me almost immediately and flashed his devilish smirk.

“I see you’re tending to the garden as well” He laughed and pat the wall next to him. “Come on rule breaker get out of view.”

“I’m just trying to remember if chlamydia can be passed in the air before I get any closer.” I scoffed as I leaned against the wall near him anyway.

“Listen, if anyone in Motley has chlamydia it is Vince” He laughed and I actually joined in laughter with him. “Besides I’ve been strictly loyal to heroin as of late and ladies typically don’t enjoy being second to a drug”

“Hmm last I heard you were engaged.” I mused puffing a bit of smoke at him.

“To Vanity? Hell no. We were both just so high and I think she said she wanted to marry me and I just said okay to say it.” He puffed smoke back in my direction and smiled. From here I could really see the dark circles under his eyes and how sunken in his cheeks actually appeared.

“Didn’t she say it on a talk show?” I remembered seeing it on t.v. but I couldn’t place the interviewer.

“Ugh yeah don’t remind me” He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. I almost felt bad that he was in that predicament.

“Well if it’s any consolation I did get married while very drunk and very high, but we were too fucked to do things correctly so none of it is legally binding” I shrugged and snubbed out my cigarette.

“So was that the final straw to make them toss you in this place?” Nikki chuckled just tossing his cigarette over the fence. God, he could be such a dick head.

“No I think the final straw was me being so fucked off some quaaludes that I almost drowned at a party from just falling into the pool. Not my proudest moment.” I frowned at the memory of Sam screaming at me in the car on the way home about how I could have died. At the time I didn’t care though, I was still high and the stars seemed to be dancing against the dark background of the sky and that was all I could focus on.

“That’s pretty mild compared to the fucked up shit I have done.” Nikki chuckled, but it felt heavy and sad instead of humorous.

“You sure you don’t want to save this for group?” I joked. I didn’t want to hear about all the horrible things Nikki had done while strung out. I didn’t want him to open up to me and thus begin an exchange of emotions. I couldn’t do feelings.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes and headed toward the building calling over his shoulder “I don’t fucking need their group or anyone to open up to for that matter.”

I sighed and lit another cigarette. Way to fuck that exchange up (y/n). I scolded myself.

It wasn’t long before it was lunch time and we had to head into the small eating area. They said once we had been there longer we would be able to eat in our rooms, but since we just started we weren’t to be trusted, which was fair. The good thing about living in L.A. and going to a rehab meant for celebrities was that the food was actually good. There were worse options than a turkey sandwich on whole wheat that was for sure and I for one wasn’t going to complain, but apparently Vince didn’t get that memo.

“I fucking told you idiots I hate dijon mustard! Only fucking Nikki like’s that shit!” Vince screamed knocking over chairs.

“Vince dude it is not a big deal.” Tommy tried to reason with him “Just ask for packets of yellow mustard”

“I am fucking Vince Neil! I shouldn’t have to ask for yellow mustard. They should have fucking listened the first time when I told them I didn’t want that nasty dijon shit!” He was on a rampage and looked ready to harm anyone who got in his way. So what did I do? Get in his way.

“Neil shut the fuck up it’s fucking mustard.” I yelled slamming my hands on the table pushing myself up. I heard Mick chuckling at the table where he sat with Nikki watching the shit show unfold.

“Fuck you bitch I’m not gonna get screamed at by a fucking low level nobody who’s only here because she sucked someone off at the lable.” He stomped towards me and I felt an adrenaline rush pulse through my body. Like when I would get drunk and do reckless shit at parties. I felt alive.

“If anyone is a bitch here it’s you. Now shut the fuck up, eat your lunch, and go find a poor nurse to give your limp dick to so the rest of us can have a nice day” I said and shoved part of my sandwich in his mouth before shoving him backward. He looked bewildered and choked on the sandwich somewhat but he did go back to his seat and sat down.

“Damn I’m impressed.” Mick laughed shooting me a grin. “I don’t think a girl has put him in his place since before this band started”

“Yeah well someone’s gotta do it” I huffed sitting down to eat my fruit since I had forfeited my sandwich to prove a point. I heard the chair next to me be pulled back and I looked over to see Nikki cutting his own sandwich in half and placing one half on my tray.

“Here. You are gonna need more than an apple to get through group after this incident.” He smiled and it seemed like a genuine smile for once.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that for me.” I happily took the half of his sandwich and began eating it. Oh sweet carbs.

“You didn’t have to man handle Vince and you did.” Nikki shrugged and began eating his own half next to me. What was his deal? One minute he was kind, the next flirty, and the one after that it was like he hated me for something I couldn’t remember doing. I couldn’t make heads or tails of if he wanted to be my friend or if he still hated me like he did that night we met years ago. Maybe I should ask him if he really doesn’t remember me from then. He had been pretty strung out so it would make sense for him to not remember me. We ate in silence for a bit and then they called for all of us to gather into the larger room down the hall for our group session. Per usual Tommy was going in on how his parents giving him the silent treatment somehow resulted in him tossing a t.v. out of the window with Nikki and doing more blow than should be physically possible. The leader eventually had to cut him off and ask if anyone else wanted to speak. I thought she was gonna have to call a name when someone cleared their throat.

“I want to say a few things” Vince said softly. I nearly pissed myself in shock.

“Well go on ahead.” The woman leading group said with a look of relief.

“Um well first I want to apologize to everyone I called and idiot earlier. You guys aren’t idiots. Second I want to say sorry to (y/n).” He looked at me and smiled. That smile held something there, it was too suspicious.

“You’re forgiven Vince.” I said trying to pretend everyone wasn’t staring at me. That was fucking weird.

Nikki had an unreadable look on his face, but something tells me he didn’t believe Vince either. We briefly made eye contact and I quickly looked back to the ground. The rest of group went on as it normally did, Nikki told the woman to fuck herself when she asked about his childhood and I just threw enough out there to get the point across that I had been through a lot, but not enough to where they actually knew much about my life, and Mick just scoffed about how he was there for the band and that he wasn’t addicted to anything because it was a mind over matter situation. By the time it was done I couldn’t wait to break away for another cigarette. I bounded around the corner of the building back to the greenhouse and came to the same spot as I had been earlier. I hadn’t realized that Nikki had followed me until he spoke.

“Don’t trust Vince.” He said lighting his cigarette and motioning for me to lean toward him so he could light mine.

“Way ahead of you there. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and I don’t know if you saw but I wasn’t able to shove him that far earlier” I inhaled the nicotine and breathed out the smoke slowly.

“I’m just saying he’s plotting something. I’ve seen that look before.” Nikki leaned up against the wall and stared at the sky. The sun was setting and the sky was shades of pink and purple almost casting him in a soft light.

“Thanks uh for the heads up anyway.” I said awkwardly trying to be nice.

“No problem. Pretty interesting day today, right?” He was looking at my face and I was looking forward refusing to make eye contact. I didn’t want to keep thinking of how the setting sun complimented his features. Why was he here muddying up my thoughts anyway?

“Why do you keep making conversation with me?” I suddenly blurted out loud surprising even myself. I winced and prepared for him to snap at me.

“Something about you that I like” Nikki answered easily as if it were obvious.

“Oh yeah?” I asked facing him “And what is it you like about me?”

“When I figure it out I’ll let you know” He smirked down at me before snubbing out his cigarette, pinching my cheek, and walking away.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me with a cliff hanger like that asshole!” I called after him and was met only with his middle finger in response. I chuckled and smiled feeling a slight blush form across my face thankful that his back was now turned to me and he couldn’t see the embarrassing redness in my cheeks. Maybe Nikki wasn’t as bad as I had previously thought.

[mermaidsirennikita]

I need to start new period dramas. Can you list your favs like which you recommend most? (Ive seen Reign) Thanks!

Sure!

Spartacus--set in Ancient Rome, obvious during the Third Servile War.  This is actually one of my top... five?  three? favorite shows of all time.  It deserves INTENSE trigger warnings for basically everything--gore, sexual violence, torture.  I will say that a lot of the general gladiatorial violence is purposefully over the top--originally because the show couldn’t afford realistic effects and they were like “fuck it, let’s go OTT and embrace it” and later because it basically was the Aesthetic.  Lots of slo mo and AAAARGGGGGHHHHs!!!!  Also a surprising amount of sensitivity towards the trauma the characters endure.  Like.  This is one of the only shows that I feel deals with trauma correctly for the majority of the characters.  They never really... “heal” in that unrealistic soft way.  But they do live.  It’s also surprisingly diverse, and the female characters are EXCELLENT, both the heroines and the villains.  The villains are so well-done too.  Well-developed without being portrayed as justified or excused.

Rome--set during the rules of the First and Second Triumvirates.  Definitely a “must watch” period piece.  It really set the tone for many that have followed, and few have matched or surpassed it.  It’s great drama, has one of the best female villains on TV of all time. I do really, really dislike its version of Cleopatra.  As a whole.  But I loooove its portrayal of Octavian and Antony, so--what’re you gonna do?

Vikings (season 1-2............................................ maybe season 3 in some spots though that’s still gotta fuck ton of issues)--set in early medieval Scandinavia.  Not a good show now, but I really loved it for the first couple of seasons and I think that those seasons, especially the first two, are still worth watching. Really, the ending of season 2 is quite final in a lot of ways.  So you could watch it like that?  Vikings was an extremely odd and trippy show in the first couple of seasons as well, which I enjoy seeing blended with its period piece setting.  It also has some really cool fight scenes and music.

Medici: The Magnificent--set in early-to-high Renaissance Florence.  Okay, so technically this is season 2 of Medici (the first season is called Medici: Masters of Florence) but season 1 frankly... sucks.  And season 2 has only one or two hold-over actors, and it’s set a couple of decades after season 1 ends.  It is, for all intents and purposes, a whole new show.  I love it.  This is a soapy show, and not every actor is greeeeat but Daniel Sharman is FANTASTIC in it, and so are the villains.  I really can’t emphasize how much I love Daniel Sharman in this role--and not just because he’s hot.  It’s also lovely to look at for the most part.  I really love the men’s costumes on this show too?  And the Pazzi Conspiracy is pretty well done.

The Borgias--set in High Renaissance Rome.  Oh, this show.  I loved it SO HARD once.  And I don’t anymore.  It’s very flawed.  But it’s fucking BEAUTIFUL in some scenes, and while it’s not the way I want the story of the Borgia family to be told, it does have some great moments, and some great performances for that matter.  (They should have let Francois Arnaud go Full Evil with Cesare, but whatever.)  It’s soapy.  There is an actual canonical incest pairing, and it’s played as totally romantic.  So heads up on that.  But this show did shape a part of me, so I can’t totally complain.

The Tudors--set in Renaissance/Reformation/post-Reformation England.  This show is so bad in some parts?  I still refuse to say that Jonathan Rhys Myers is putting on a good performance as Henry VIII. Because I don’t think it’s good acting.  But it’s like.  Entertaining.  There’s a scene where he’s like, trying to pole vault over a pond or something and he’s like “watch me lads this’ll be rad” and he just... ends up in the pond.  I think he gets sick and ends up screaming.  He does a lot of screaming.  But the women are very good in this!!!  Maria Doyle Kennedy and Natalie Dormer kill it in the first two seasons, and Tamzin Merchant is so good at playing up more than just the sexy lil thing role that this show wanted to give Katherine Howard.  She put a lot into fleshing her out.  I would say that the first two seasons are like, fun soapy shenanigans with a few genuinely good beats, and the last two are kinda dull except for when they relate to the downfall of Thomas Cromwell (who is very well played in this show) and Katherine Howard.

The White Queen/The White Princess--set during medieval England.  Do I recommend?  No.  No I do not.  Is it kind of incredibadly watchable at times?  Yes.  These loosely related minseries monstrosities are like, horrible feminism, horrible costuming, and occasionally really fucking good performances.  It’s about the Wars of the Roses (TWQ) and the early reign of Fuckboi In Leather Pants and A Pirate Shirt Henry VII.  Also, Richard III is a goth in this series.  There will be another installment, The Spanish Princess, once again with a whole new cast, very soon.  It will be about Catherine of Aragon.  Supposedly.

Versailles--set in 18th century France.  This does for Louis XIV what The Tudors did for Henry VIII.  But it’s marginally better because George Blagden is a better actor than JRM, and Louis XIV actually seems like he has a brain sometimes, and is generally an evil plotting cocker spaniel with his gay brother.  A typical episode of Versailles is basically Louis XIV having Somewhat Awkward Sexual Tension with said brother as they snipe at each other, until they agree to be friends and rule the French court through psychological manipulation.  Louis gives somewhat an absolutely withering glance.  They commit suicide before him.  Everyone is wearing a mask.  I mean, I have fun with it.  Though there is a VERY CRINGE STORYLINE in the beginning that is based on a VERY CRINGE LEGEND that always makes me hesitate to recommend it.

Alias Grace--set in 19th century Canada.  Essentially, this is a thriller and a period piece.  A doctor learns through a series of interviews about the heinous murders that Grace committed while a servant in a rich man’s house.  I really like this show’s exploration of class divides and women’s relationships with each other.  It’s preeeetty dark.

North and South--set in industrial England.  I always describe this as like...  Pride and Prejudice if Darcy had a more sexual vibe and was more working class, and if Elizabeth was tbh.............................. a bit dumber, if well-intentioned.  I love it.  The smoldering gazes.  The secretive glances.  The classic “woman rejects man’s marriage proposal, man is a broken husk” scene.  It’s great.

The Crown--set in twentieth century England-present.  This is one of the GREATEST DRAMAS EVER, frankly.  Like.  This show takes objectively petty arguments and turns them into something super epic and intense.  It’s all about the strength of the acting and the writing.  There is only one episode in the two (so far) seasons that disappointed me.  Plus, this show looks intensely expensive.  

Peaky Blinders--set in Post WWI Birmingham.  First two seasons ONLY.  But oh, they were great seasons of TV.  This show is about a crime family, and I absolutely love crime family dramas.  It also features Grace Burgess, one of my favorite characters ever.  She is a lady cop who sets out to seduce the main character, head of aforementioned crime family.  For The Law.  That is all.

Hopefully, this is a good starting point--ngl, most period pieces drop in quality after a couple seasons, so it’s hard to give a wholehearted recommendation.  

[aquarianlights]

Coming out as transgender to people who you have absolutely no idea if they're going to reject you or not is worse and way more traumatic than coming out to people who you KNOW are going to reject you.

I'm literally fucking sobbing right now. Two of my oldest friends... Two people I have known since pre-k...maybe before that...Jymboree... That. That was before pre-k, right? Well, I've known them since Jymboree.........and I don't think either of them know I am transgender. One of them only just now found me on FB and we haven't spoken since... early college years. And the other...we haven't spoken in a few years.

I'm just coming out to them both RIGHT NOW....and I'm shaking and crying. I'm literally shaking and there are tears rolling down my cheeks.... I have known these two girls probably 24 of my 25 years of existence. Maybe almost a full 25. They were two of the biggest influences in my entire life....and they are like sisters who I grew up with.

I only found out I was transgender and not just "faking it/pretending to be a boy" around the age of 20-22ish. I honest to god thought I was pretending and my ex girlfriend breaking up with me after over 5 years of an LD relationship because she thought I was pretending, too, was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Not THAT it happened...but how it happened. And the things I have experienced from being transgender... specifically from cishet males... is horrible.

And people misgendering me and just not understanding for some reason??? I'm sorry, but even if you're on the autism spectrum, you can understand when someone says they're a boy, they're a boy. You're not misunderstanding this because you're autistic; you're misunderstanding it because you're a white, cishet dude who apparently has a crush on me.

Receiving a text that says or someone saying "I'm sorry, but it's just weird for a me, being a straifght guy, to have a crush on you as a transboy." LET ME MAKE ONE THING CLEAR RIGHT FUCKING NOW: YOU EITHER HAVE A CRUSH ON ME OR YOU ARE NOT STRAIGHT. There is ///////////NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!/////// inbetween. You cannot be male and like another male and call yourself straight. Can you? Then how can you like me and call yourself straight? I'm just as male as you are. Always have been, always will be. Before and after HRT + gender correction surgeries. Just because I am transgender and haven't transitioned yet does not make me ANY LESS of a man than you in ANY way.

There is literally no way in this world or logic or ANYTHING that can state factually that you can be straight and male and have a crush on me. I don't understand how a man can call himself straight if he has a crush on another man? Can someone explain that to me? Please? I'm just DYING to know. And for anyone who is autistic (I think I have like maybe 2 or 3 friends on the spectrum here on FB and who knows how many on tumblr where I'm gonna c/p this to), you have absolutely no excuse. If a fucking child can understand that I'm a man....so can you. Idk if autism and down syndrome are synonymous... I don't think they are, coz my cousin has down syndrome and he's not like any of the autistic people I've spoken with online... (So I'm a little confused there), BUT EVEN HE UNDERSTANDS I AM MALE OKAY! He can't even speak for himself or change himself or dress himself or do anything for himself. He holds a bagging position at a local grocery store with help. Other than that, that's about it. He is in his late 20's and he acts like a child...always pulling my hair, can't speak correctly, speaks through sounds and groans and motions, reacts emotionally like...toddler-like emotions...Stuff like that to give examples. And I thought, for the longest time (coz I was ignorant and sheltered) that that was what autism was.

Well, I'm sorry, but if my cousin WITH THAT SEVERITY OF DOWN SYNDROME (which may or may not be autism?????? I have no clue on any developmental issues coz I only have mental disorders and not developmental issues and I only study psuedo-sciences (aka psych things) relevant to myself because I'm forced to so I'm ignorant by choice here which is probably abelist but it emotionally hurts me to look at this stuff) CAN UNDERSTAND THAT I'M A BOY EVEN WHEN I'M IN A DRESS AND HIGH HEELS WITH MAKE-UP ON, UNDERCOVER IN DISGUISE FOR A FAMILY FUNCTION.... ANY OF YOU AUTISTIC PEOPLE CAN. NONE OF YOU HAVE ANY EXCUSE. NO ONE WITH A DEVELOPMENTAL DISORDER, MENTAL ILLNESS, OR ANYTHING HAS ANY EXCUSE. AND, NO, I'M SORRY, BUT YOUR BIGOTRY IS THE SAME AS PEDOPHILIA BEING INCLUDED IN THE LGBT+ COMMUNITY: IT'S NOT COUNTING AND IT NEVER WILL BE, YOU SICK FUCK.

I'm just....I'm just so scared and so angry and so hurt and so...

All the experiences I've had irl and online with both people I know and people I don't know and anything inbetween...professionals and acquaintances and anything inbetween... I'm fucking traumatized by it all and yes that's actually part of my PTSD. It's not the main part of it, but the trauma associated with accumulated experiences due to being out and proud as a transman are a part of my extremely severe PTSD. Again, not the main part...but the fact they are a chunk is scary... Coz that means it could be the ENTIRE reason for someone's PTSD if they were to have lesser experiences than me (lesser being used in quantitative terms here, not qualitative---everyone's traumas are equal...the times we experience traumas are all different, obvs, and the times we experience traumas that contribute to PTSD are different and since I have so goddamn many, thinking some trans person could have PTSD based SOLELY around their experience as a trans person is horrifying when that is one of the least of my worries in the PTSD category).

I didn't realizing coming out could be this terrifying...

When I thought I was pretending to be male and was actually female irl, I thought I was just a lesbian since I am attracted to mostly girls. (Didn't know bi and pan was a thing either lol) so I came out on my very first day at a new school sophomore year of hs by people asking me or something and me doing something really bold and rash to prove it and then shrugging and being all "And? What are you gonna do about it?" Like. Coming out as lezz was as though I were coming out as human in my mind. It absolutely did not matter to me at all. 

And, frankly, I got off on it mentally coz it added a shock value when someone called me a dyke in a crowd and I would grab the nearest girl and ask her permission to kiss her and kiss her as hard as I could and then throw her aside (gently) into the crowd and strut right up to said (cishet white male obvs) person who asked and stand so close he could smell the shampoo I use and look him directly in the eye and dare him to do something about it and basically say "Are you just angry I get more pussy than you? Is that why you tried to make it public that you've got such a small dick?" Stuff like that. I get filmed a lot doing this stuff so there's prob videos of little female-presenting, bright blue haired, 5'1 3'4" kandi kid, harajuku girl Nickita version of me floating around being all confrontational and angry. Lol.

I forget why I made this post.

Oh yeah. Because I'm crying and shaking coz my friends aren't gonna respond for a while I'm sure and Idk if I'm going to lose them and at the same time I am super super SUPER sick and drained by guys not treating me as equal to them when I'm just as male as they are, with or without the parts.

I’m seriously so drained by cishet boys. By the ace thing and by the trans thing. I’m sick of cishet boys trying to coerce me into sex because they’re the “one exception” and I’m sick of cishet boys trying to say they’re straight but they have a crush on me, when I’m a boy. You CANNOT BE A STRAIGHT BOY AND HAVE A CRUSH ON A BOY!?!??!?!

These are things I deal with MULTIPLE times a day from MULTIPLE people...from people with autism and aspergers...to actual full on neurotypicals. Like. THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!?

NOTE: I have since learned the aspergers, autism, and down syndrome are like...all different or something like that. I don’t really want to know, which is ableist af, but I don’t want to know on purpose. I want to stay ignorant on specifics. I just want the general knowledge and the tl;dr version of it all. At least....right now....maybe when I’m not about to have a panic attack, ready to slit my wrists, overdose, shoot someone, can slow down my thoughts, can force my intrusive thoughts back into intrusive thought zone and not desire zone, and can STOP HAVING AUDITORY HALLUCINATIONS WHEN I KNOW DAMN WELL MY SCHIZO MEDS ARE WORKING THEY ARE WORKING THEY ARE WORKING SO THIS ISN’T REAL AND IDK WHY THIS IS HAPPENING....maybe then I’ll like to know specifics, but I cannot an will not handle specifics right now. No thanks. Pseudo-science are ew. It’s bad enough I have to lean my OWN psuedo-sciences. (Psst. I still only learn the tl;dr textbook version of my own pseudo-science stuff (aka: psych stuff) so I can just learn the rest from self experience. it works. pro tip, y’all.)

[unmistakably]

In 2017, Jenna Maroney Is 30 Rock's Most Relevant Character

Ali Goldstein

News that the cult favorite 30 Rock left Netflix this month sparked a series of frantic reactions on certain corners of the internet. 30 Rock Is Leaving Netflix and People Are Furious wrote the Daily Beast. The New York Times offered 5 Things to Cook While Watching 30 Rock Before It Leaves Netflix. Last week's subsequent announcement that it was moving to Hulu mitigated the loss, although the switch in streaming platform also changes how effortless it is to watch a show usually experienced on a loop. Created by Tina Fey, 30 Rock, which aired on NBC from 2006 to 2013, revolved around an SNL-like variety show. With its mile-a-minute joke delivery and irreverent takes on pop culture, it became a critical hit, rejuvenated Alec Baldwin's and Tracy Morgan's careers, and marked Fey's ascent to comedy A-lister.

Netflix does not offer viewer statistics on its shows, but between all the elegiac write-ups and the sad texts from my friends that say they will have to talk to some food about this, I gather that constantly streaming 30 Rock is a common experience. I know I'm not alone in saying that I have forged more than one friendship based on a shared language of deep cuts like the old leather pumpkin or very wool. For me, the threat of losing the constant company of 30 Rock means not getting to spend time with the character that makes me feel like it's okay to be a human woman. I'm talking about Jenna Maroney. Though ever-exasperated eyeroll master Liz Lemon (Fey) has been the source of many viewers' it me moments, the histrionic train wreck Jenna Maroney (Jane Krakowski) is the character who resonates most with me. In the hyperbolic Trump era, it is Jenna's outlandish reactions that feel appropriate. And after a decade of thinking about Liz's self-interested feminism, it is Jenna's relationship to feminist concerns like misogynistic violence and discrimination against gender nonconformity that are most salient today.

Giphy

Liz and Jenna are old friends on the show, each serving as a foil to the other's deeply ingrained hang-ups. Liz is a frowning brunette killjoy; Jenna is all blonde ambition and horse glue. The two are more negative images of each other than opposites, with Jenna's self-aware fakeness cutting through Liz's tone-deaf self-righteousness. Throughout the show's run, Liz's feminism was subject to rigorous debate. Ten years after the show's premiere, essays are still being penned about Liz's feminism and whether it sufficiently registered on the subjective barometer of what a feminist should be. Why Liz Lemon Was The Flawed Feminist We Needed 10 Years Ago & Still Need Today, claimed Bustle in an article from last year. On the Huffington Post, Zeba Blay wrote that 30 Rock, while myopic and dated in its white feminist worldview, also made apparent the need for women who aren't white, straight, and middle-class in comedy.

Watching the show in 2017 is to be frequently confronted with a liberal feminism that considers success to be personal and professional contentment - having it all to yourself. Liz Lemon is the kind of individualist feminist who likes to stick it to the man while playing it safe, who knows that being a woman is the worst because of society, but does not seem concerned with making that society better for anyone else. Liz leaned in - and was rewarded with the G.E. Followship Award. I would have been a Nazi, she muses about her willingness to collaborate with her CEO boss Jack's machinations in spite of her nominal objection to them. In critic Sady Doyle's blog post from 2010, she correctly identified this strain of Liz Lemonism as privileged semi-feminism. Emily Nussbaum, TV writer for the New Yorker, aptly characterizes Liz as a George Costanza more than a Mary Tyler Moore, pushing back against the idea that she should be considered a role model of any sort. But in this post-sheet cake moment, it is harder for me to sit with this shallow feminism.

It's clear that Liz's concerns were meant to be relatable whereas Jenna's were ridiculous. But what about those of us whose lives have taken an odder turn than Liz's has, who are not baby-crazy, who cannot afford to buy our own apartments, and who do not even have the option of settling, even if we wanted to? And those of us for whom feminism helps queer our lives, rather than serving as a belief set that reconciles us toward marriage, motherhood, and the workplace?

Giphy

Early in the series, Jenna's problems are more typical. A struggling actress upstaged on her own show, she deals with a pathological need for attention along with more universal female complaints such as weight gain and ageist beauty standards. Her issues, however, become less normative as the show continues. Instead of revolving around the tragedy of an old crone yearning for the spotlight, her storylines in later seasons consider how to pair love with kink, and the need for attention with the desire to please. Whereas Liz gets to have it all by the end of the show, giving the audience that relates to her the happy ending they ostensibly want, Jenna's life takes a turn for the weird and wonderful. Jenna is so dramatic, she is radically unrelatable; it is difficult to identify with someone who exclaims, Stop being dramatic. That's my thing. And if you steal it from me, I will kill myself, and then you. It is a given on the show that Jenna is unlikeable and not to be taken seriously. Even in Doyle's nuanced critique of Liz, Jenna is written off as a shallow, unstable narcissist. But in 2017, I find Jenna's issues more resonant, her outlandishness a better balm against the outrageous misogynist currently in power.

Jenna spends her adult life dodging death at the hands of dangerous boyfriends, most famously, Mickey Rourke. While Liz's worst (but funniest) ex, Dennis Duffy, constantly threatens into come back in her life with his promise, You'll be back, Jenna's exes are considerably darker. On 30 Rock, when trauma resurfaces, it is always treated as a moment of wild comedy. Other main characters on the show have moments of unearthing repressed trauma and are somewhat better off after talking it out. Jenna, however, never has her breakthrough on the couch, not because she is too shallow to bury anything deep, but perhaps because she does not repress that much. Her asides about her own traumas have the horrifying buoyancy of a woman who walks away with a stride of pride. You should have killed me when you had the chance, she sneers about Rourke. Violent exes are her specialty, including but not limited to O.J. Simpson, a mob boss, and a sniper who would never shoot her because he was afraid of his own mother - there is perhaps no greater kiss-off for an ex. It is fitting that the rom-com Jenna was supposed to star in, Take My Hand, gets turned into a torture-porn flick. Jenna is a final girl in her own right. And that's why it is all the more satisfying when she finds The One.

Will Forte (left) and Jane Krakowski as Paul L'astnam and Jenna Maroney

Courtesy of NBC

In the end, Jenna's secret weapon - her sexuality - allows her to become a more self-actualized person by the end of the series. When she finally finds love, it is with someone who shares her profession, the female impersonator and performer Paul L'astnam, played by Will Forte, a both decent and perverse person (#RelationshipGoals). The campiness with which Jenna always approached gender is perfectly complemented by Paul's drag performance of her.

On the surface, her relationship with Paul exists merely to make two obvious points: Jenna is a narcissist, and gender is absurd. This reminds me of a remark of Fey's during her sheet cake manifesto: You know what a drag queen still is? A 6'4 black man. Drag laughs in the face of the idea that who you really are exists under the makeup and clothes. I've struggled with whether or not Paul as a character hints at suspicion toward nonbinary identity. Am I laughing at the small-mindedness of those who would mock Paul? Or is his character a wink of acknowledgment at those who think, Oh brother, people sure do take this stuff too far? Even if I can't shake the feeling that this line was written with an eyeroll at such a nonconforming identity, it is to Forte's credit that the character is played with such earnest compassion, joyful in his expression of how he identifies as gender dysmorphic bi-genitalia pansexual (pronounced sex-u-AL). As someone who regards gender both as a category that tries to exclude me from normalcy and, paradoxically, a playground with no rules, Jenna and Paul's relationship might be the most relatable on the show.

Sexuality, let alone complicated sexuality, so seldom gets an open-hearted and curious treatment in any rom-com plotline. Together, Jenna and Paul figure out not only how to make it work, but how to make it weird and keep it that way. Though they initially struggle to define what their normal might look like, they settle on a deliciously campy parody of heterosexual couples getting surprise married and going to Bed Bath & Beyond. Eventually, she has a coming-out of sorts and stands in her own truth in front of the Wool Council to let them know that her relationship with Paul is also based on love and warmth. And chafed skin.

As the series progresses, Jenna learns not only how to feel but also how to express her emotions. For a woman who was taught to identify sadness through flash cards, she makes incredible strides by the end of the series. She accepts Paul's need to dress as another woman (Cher) and even turns down his televised marriage proposal - her dream - to compromise with his needs for intimacy. But she's still our girl. Don't interrupt, she says to Liz during a reconciliation. The pill that lets me feel emotion is gonna wear off soon. The moment is again played for laughs, but as someone who takes pills like that, I can relate.

We have a clear enough picture of what Liz Lemon feminism looks like. The Liz Lemon of today wears a Nasty Woman T-shirt; Jenna sells them on her website, Jennas-Side.com, profits going to benefit a scholarship in her name at the Royal Tampa Academy of Dramatic Tricks. Liz Lemon keeps her maiden name and would point out the sexism behind the term maiden. When Jenna and Paul marry, he takes her first and last name - good praxis! If there could be such a thing as Jenna Maroney feminism, it would be queer, unruly, and untraditional, and it would not define itself in relation to normative benchmarks of adult life like marriage or children. But I don't want to reclaim Jenna as a feminist antihero. She is a hero for those of us who are fatigued with the question of whether a pop culture figure is a feminist.

Whereas Liz sees the patriarchy as her personal stumbling block, Jenna, who truly suffers at the hands of men, seems blithely unaware that she exists within it. It's not so much that Jenna is a feminist figure; it's more that she becomes proudly anti-heteronormative. She is at turns both delusional and self-aware enough to know that prettiness is a facade, and that portion control and exercise won't heal a broken heart. 30 Rock excels when it treats gender as a performance of the absurd, and perhaps I watch it again and again for this absurdity. I am not a Jenna Maroney, because no one but Jenna can be a Jenna. But I do see myself in her. Not so much, however, that I would steal her thunder. You cannot steal her thunder. Her whole life is thunder.

Natalie Adler has a PhD in Comparative Literature and works in disability advocacy. She is currently writing a novel on obsessive thinking and feminist disillusionment.

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[bidickgrayson]

i’ve finally almost gotten to the place in persona 3 where i stopped playing a couple years ago. just got to october, and i stopped some time in november in my first playthrough

it’s interesting to revisit shinjiro’s death a couple years later, because that death was one of the few things i remembered with any kind of detail. i remember being very angry at the storyline that had a ten-year-old kid plot revenge for the death of his mother. couldn’t really understand that urge/the fact that that kind of storyline was coming from a TEN YEAR OLD

and i’m still not a fan, but i am a little less directly angry with ken. the first time, i wasn’t expecting it, and so i was just angry that ken got shinjiro into a situation where he was killed lol. i had a lot more sympathy for ken this time around, when i knew what was coming the whole time, and could remind myself more rationally that ken didn’t actually kill shinjiro

really where i disagree with the writing around shinjiro’s death the most is around the aftermath, primarily around akihiko’s reaction. first of all, BULLSHIT on the fact that akihiko was like “we need to stop treating ken like a kid” because HE IS A KID!!!! what are you talking about!!!! “he needs to make his own decisions” like OKAY i get that you want to respect his autonomy but....he was just a kid who plotted a revenge-murder of a high schooler who killed his mom in front of him, only to watch in horror as that high schooler THROWS HIMSELF IN FRONT OF A GUNSHOT TO SAVE THE KID’S LIFE and then died in front of the kid. there’s no acknowledgement of the trauma, because they’re trying to treat this precocious ten-year-old like he’s an adult, when frankly, no adult would go through that without some trauma!! it’s just dumb. and i can forgive the sees members for some of it, because this is a bunch of high schoolers dealing with some heavy shit with no good adult supervision (lol @ ikutsuki), and they’re all just kids themselves, so i can’t really blame them for not knowing the best way to handle it and stumbling through on their own

also, what makes it worse is that it was literally just revealed that ken was suicidal/wanted to die like, just a while before, and tbf none of the other sees members knew, but i knew as the audience, and so to have akihiko go like “well, he’s gonna do what he’s gonna do” was so jarring and distressing. GET THIS KID SOME HELP! but. whatever. and then ken of course decides to come back and has a new resolve, and it’s treated as though that’s the really strong thing to do and not a definitely unhealthy lack of concern for mental well-being. “i’m strong so i’m not going to let the multiple traumatic events/my suicidal ideations (as a ten-year-old!) distract me from our mission”

also, back to direct reactions to shinjiro’s death, and maybe this is more personal preference, but i really Cannot Relate at all to akihiko’s resolution in the face of it. i remember that disconnect was jarring to me when i first played it years ago too. because he’s sad, and then very quickly he’s not sad because “it’s what shinjiro would have wanted”. and i just can’t relate to how quick he came to terms with the death, because this was literally akihiko’s oldest friend. and when the other’s express sadness, he’s like, don’t be sad, it’s what shinjiro wanted. LIKE WTF it is still sad??? i just think a better balance between acceptance and grief could have been found, because i really feel like they jumped over the majority of the grief that i would expect from shinjiro’s oldest friend, which is very jarring. but. i mean, who knows, maybe that would be realistic to some. it feels like a shortcut to me tho. i like akihiko, but this particular instance really disconnected me from his character

i’ve heard that with the female protagonist in p3p, you can do a social link so shinjiro doesn’t end up dead. and i’m really curious how that plays out (/why the social link changes it). i just wanna be able to say “YOU’RE A HIGH SCHOOLER, YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE YOUR DEATH IS THE BEST WAY THINGS CAN PLAY OUT ( :( )”

anyway, some other thoughts while i’m here:

my vague recollection of p3 having some social links with ppl who weren’t really good people was correct. or maybe i should say, weren’t people i really found sympathetic. like, the devil link with the shady businessman (which i still haven’t completed), or the magician link with the classmate kenji (he has called me SO MANY TIMES, and i have turned him down every time, because if there’s going to links i don’t complete, i am fine with one of them being his. i just.....am not interested in his quest to fuck his teacher, i don’t enjoy it. i know i completed his in my last playthrough, but i can’t remember how it resolves but....god i could not care less about kenji). then there’s the hermit link with the teacher online (she’s so annoying lol, and i hate that she tells protag that she has a crush on the irl him, like, fuck off. also, she’s such a bad/unsympathetic teacher, it made me really miss kawakami, who had flaws but was ultimately a good teacher imo). oh, then there’s the emperor link with hidetoshi on the student council who....lol, that’s another link i completed last time but have barely touched this time, because i really dislike him. i kinda remember him softening towards the end of the link, but so much of the first part is just about enabling him being a tyrannical class council member which is not fun. and i ultimately like the tower/monk link, but he’s another character who....doesn’t really seem like that nice of a person. but i do like him because he likes the protag

the other links for the most part are good. it’s interesting the differences between p5 and p3 social links, because p5 had a definite theme to all of the links (/the whole game lol) where they were all ultimately good people who were misunderstood/unfairly judged/treated somehow (altho i haven’t done the iwai link all the way through, i imagine it ends up similarly because he’s a somewhat decent person “doing evil to combat evil” iirc). but there’s no real theme for the p3 links as far as i can tell. which makes sense, because in p5 there is a specific reason to have links with them all because they end up helping you, and they all end up as accomplices to all of the crimes the thieves commit lol

i really dislike that you have to romance all of your female classmates in order to complete their social links. what is friendship lol. really really really makes it feel a whole lot cheaper, and really makes it hard for me to care. very glad they stopped making that a requirement in p3p and beyond

what also make it hard for me to care?? the blank and unemotional p3 protagonist lol. i really have a hard time connecting to him, because he doesn’t really do much?? he’s just a blank wall for all of the social links, and it really disconnects me from the emotions of it. some girl will be confessing her feelings to him, and i’m just like, hm, fascinating, who cares, he’s gonna go on a date with another girl tomorrow. it doesn’t feel real to me at all. maybe i’m just totally unfairly biased toward p5 (and i don’t want to compare endlessly, bc p5 is newer and clearly they’ve made many improvements over the years, but it’s the easiest comparison at hand), but when someone talked to joker about how much he meant to them, i bought into it a lot more than i do with mr. low energy, the p3 protag. joker felt like an actual character to me, that i could care about, who i could understand/imagine his feelings and reactions to things. but for the p3 protag, it’s a lot of, well, i GUESS he COULD care about shinjiro dying, but you sure as heck have to read a whole lot into it to get to that conclusion, because the strongest reaction you can make him have to it is to have him tell the callous students at the assembly to “shut up.” which is nice, but hardly anything at all lol. i just find him difficult to project my emotions onto him in the game, unlike joker, who i didn’t have as much trouble believing in his genuine feeling for the people he talked to. i think also, people reacted to joker in a much more specific way that made him more real than the p3 protag, who kind of feels like a ghost most times, except for his social links where he shows up just to say exactly what the other person wants to hear lol. idk, i’m looking forward to replaying p5 and paying more attention to joker this time

(my feelings on the p3 protag are gonna be interesting come end-game, because if i understand correctly from the vague spoilers i’ve gotten about p3, the protag is gonna sacrifice himself to save the world. i keep trying to remind myself/play with that in mind, because i don’t think someone would sacrifice himself if he was actually as unemotional and detached as he sometimes comes across as)

80% of my rage at this game comes from being unable to control my specific party members in battle and so they do things that i don’t want them to, 10% comes from enemy advantage attacks (especially when i swing at them, but they hit me first), 9% comes from this game challenging me/punishing me for being underleveled when i’m playing on easy and don’t want any challenge at all because i want to get past the silly fighting business and back to social links/story, and a special 1% goes to the sleeping table boss in tartarus, which definitely was a primary punisher for me being underleveled and caused me to yell angrily at my screen yesterday

oh, ikutsuki. it’s funny, because p3 was the first persona game i played, and very early on, i was like, i don’t trust ikutsuki at all, so when the reveal came that you should not, in fact, trust ikutsuki, i wasn’t at all surprised. but it’s funny to replay it, knowing that persona likes the “this guy is not what he seems” trope, and realize that...there wasn’t really a specific giveaway instance where ikutsuki said something that was off (a la pancakes, or adachi showing up to a private conversation with interesting timing), it was just a sort of feeling i got about this weird adult who was having these high schoolers be responsible for saving the world, apparently. he really is a terrible terrible advisor though, lol, even knowing he’s evil. it’s sad to realize that the only adult help these kids have got is someone who is absolutely not on their side, and they’re truly on their own