#he keeps saying he loves her but it's so bad and I hate how the narrative tries to justify him again and again

[lucygraysboy]

“would you like to supervise the process?” he offers with a smile, figuring she ought to have some sense of control over what’s happening to her most precious belonging. “also, i’ve been thinkin’… i’m sorry ‘bout what i said last night. ‘bout my ma’s scarf.” how he initially thought she must have stolen it and decided to take it away from her. “that was very wrong of me. it’s not like my ma will ever wear this scarf again or like just lookin’ at it, lyin’ there collectin’ dust, will bring her back or somethin’. maybe we could use the fabric to replace the missin’ ruffles on your dress? i think she’d like that.” it would give the dress a fresh look, some more color, and they would be reminded of both their mothers every time lucy gray put it on. of course, only if she allows it. “well, i don’t think there’s a covey as unique as ours out there. we win,” he laughs, dragging the twigs through her wet ringlets, fingers following. repeating the motion until there’s not a single tangle left. “horse playin’,” he echoes with a chuckle, basking in the sound of their happiness. suddenly, the little hut feels almost cozy, homey. filled with laughter and jokes, with a sense of togetherness. what else could anyone need? “no!” he’s quick to protest, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily just in case she decides to turn around and stand up, determined to protect her dignity and innocence. “i mean, no, thank you. an anatomy lesson won’t be necessary. not that i’ve ever seen a…” goodness gracious, what is he trying to confess? and why? what for? he scolds himself, cheeks burning, tongue tied with embarrassment. “i’m — it’s… oh! there’s other kinds of soap here!” he lays the makeshift brush on his lap and picks up the box that the previous owners must have left behind, occupying himself by taking out different bars of soap and sniffing them. “this one smells like lavender, and look, it’s such a pretty shade of purple, too.” he extends his hand, presenting the small, oval-shaped soap to the brunette. “how do you even make soap?” he wonders aloud, not the most subtle subject change but he prays it will do. 

listening intently, billy finds himself nodding his head in agreement. the subject of coriolanus seems to be a sore one for the both of them, in their own way and for somewhat different reasons. “oh, that one,” manipulation, “he’s been great at always. guess that’s an inherited talent,” he muses with a chuckle, trying to make the conversation a bit more light-hearted even if it’s ultimately impossible. “i think you know him a lot better than i do, and so you’re most likely right. somethin’ must have switched at some point.” as a boy, he seemed very much capable of loving others. or so it seemed to billy. who really knows? “you don’t know who the third was? what’d he say when you asked ‘bout it?” he wonders, scooping up some more water to pour down lucy gray’s back and shoulders. the one sentence that haunts him being — coriolanus seemed as nice as you. well, was he faking it the whole time? or is it some generational curse? “i’ll never lie to you, lucy gray. never turn on you,” he swears and then is left wondering whether she’d heard the same exact words before, from the mouth identical to his. “i’d never try to kill no one i hated either. i don’t think most people have that in ‘em.” the ability to just take life. “if one of my loved ones was in danger and it was either the bad guy goes or the person i care for… that’s the only time i would pull the trigger.” he would stop at nothing to protect her because a part of him feels deeply responsible for her, because she’s brought so much joy and meaning to his life, but would he kill his own twin brother if it came to it? he doesn’t even want to think about having to make that choice.

“you’ll always be safe with me, lucy gray.” feeling her warm skin on his, slender fingers keeping his hand in place, billy’s heart expands so impossibly that it’s a wonder his chest doesn’t just burst open. his cheeks rosy. she nuzzles into his palm like an affection-starved cat and something inside him cracks, his own eyes filling with tears. it’s a monumental moment, gaining some of her trust, and he promises to never jeopardize it. he won’t ever betray her. before he can do something stupid like leaning in and bumping their noses together or kissing her forehead, he clears his throat and speaks up, “is the water still warm? want me to boil some more?” the pad of his thumb stroking her skin, ever so carefully and with all the affection he has. 

"alright, i'll trust you with it." he's been so gentle with her hair, so she gives his forearm a pat and believes he'll do the same with her precious mama's dress. how kind of him too... to promise. "alright, mr. hair stylist." a little laugh dances out of her throat, doe eyes watching him get up and go over to the bed. "that's the best part about a covey... the more unique it is, the more special it is." lucy gray points out, sweetly smiling. "well, you ought to be careful there. don't go horse playin' around like that..." creating puns causing her to laugh as she watches him playfully stumble around with his eyes covered. "you're actin' like i showed somethin' already. if you need me to, i can just show you if you need schooled on female anatomy lessons." he clearly isn't the type to take her up on things like that, which is why she's saying it. just to provoke a shy look out of him again.

"no, believe me billy, you're entitled to your own opinion. i don't blame you for not agreein' with me at all. i don't even know if i agree with myself when there were moments coriolanus seemed as nice as you, i think he could have just been fakin' it the entire time. he's great at manipulation. but it sure is a mystery if all he was– was stuck up as a little one. then, all grown up he turned so cruel, selfish and dead on inside. maybe somethin' switched... between a father like that and the loss of your mother, somewhere between there. but it just hurts when someone betrays you. i felt he betrayed me when he lied to me about how many people i asked that he killed, two were valid. but the third... guess i'll never know. he betrayed me pretendin' he was coming along with me to live in the wilderness and the entire time, he was just lookin' out for himself. he betrayed me tryin' to kill me. it's the lord's work to take me outta the world, not him." angrily she spoke, and she truly feels sad for coriolanus and his soul. "he might not been born evil, but he was absolutely born with somethin' rotten. i'd never try to kill no one i hated– let alone cared for."

flinching in the slightest, but her hand comes up to keep his hand in place. she doesn’t want him to remove it. she wants to embrace a kind touch, feel it, as she turns hand over to feel his fingers against her skin. eyes watering, lower lip curving upwards, before affectionately nuzzling into his palm. it makes her deeply emotional. the kind touch, embracing she can’t always be scared of touch, the reassurance, the horrible conversation and ideas that someone she cared for would want to kill her. essentially, twice. because billy taupe nearly sent her to her grave getting involved with mayfair who sent her to the hunger games.

[kkreadsstuff]

alright alright alrighhhhttt i'm midway through chapter 5 of "all the wrong things" by lovesbitca8 which is part 2 of the rights and wrongs series (part 3 is the auction!!!! i'm getting there folks!!!). it's 24 chapters, just over 160K words, and in Draco's POV. so this is 12 chapters shorter and about 30K words less than part 1. *fist pump*

it's the sequel to part 1 (u can find my thoughts on "the right thing to do" here and here ) but a sequel in the way that it's just draco's POV of everything that happens in part 1. so........ idk. idk what i'm expecting lmfao 😭 i'm just going to give it a chance and go into it thinking that i am going to really enjoy it!!! i'm manifesting me really enjoying this. i'm playing pretend. 😌😌😌😌😌😌😌 it's going to be really dynamic, entertaining, and enjoyable!!! PERIODOCITY.

summary:

Sequel to "The Right Thing to Do" - Draco's POV. Part 2 of the "Rights and Wrongs" series. [😭😂]

author's note:

I've tried to differentiate between what Hermione's voice was in TRTTD, and what Draco's needs to be in this piece, so the tense and the POV is different.Draco's side of the story may become much darker, and obviously, from the perspective of a teenage boy. So I will try to keep the Archive Warnings updated as they apply.

tags: Angst, Mutual Pining, Occlumency, Romance, Smut, Teenage Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Brief mentions of sexual slavery, Flashbacks, Co-workers, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings; rating: explicit

oh and also! content warning!!! there's und*rage s*x scenes and mentions of und*rage s*x in this... which the author failed to tag and i started reading before it was too late! so fuck me, i guess!!! :D god. i don't want to read that shit. so just because i wasn't warned, i'd like to warn anyone who comes across this post. be wary! if it's not ur thing, then be vigilant if u still choose to read this fic.

anyways. so far... it's fine. this story is fine. i like being inside of draco's head and i like seeing how he sees things playing out with hermione. i love him so anything in his POV will have me in a choke hold. we both agree so far that hermione is acting extremely ooc and like a lil' weak ass and... that doesn't really change throughout the whole story. he hates that she keeps doing her hair whenever she plans to see him (he likes her wild bushy curls!!! periodt we hate a hermione who feels the need to "tame" her hair). i like seeing his interactions with narcissa. this fic doesn't spend so much time on extraneous details (so far). i like seeing him pine and have secret feelings for her. he's trying to figure out how to be less of a smirking stupid ass but he fails at that because he loves provoking her lmfao because provoking her brings her back to who she actually is: a BAMF.

and if ur like: "ur just a draco apologist that's why u like this story better so far!!!" okay, and? 🤨😭🤣 that's all i have to say about that.

but yeah i hate the flashbacks, like we knowwwwwww that draco was a hateful cunt, WE KNOW. we don't need hateful cunt context lmfao there was no (well hardly any) pining hermione flash back context in the first story, just endless amounts of details that had nothing to do with the story so why.... anyways. ANYWAYS. like i SAID, i'm going to just let myself enjoy this!!!! or so help me! LMFAO 😭

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 11 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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The rest of the walk back to the apartment was uneventful. Sam and I stayed a couple of paces behind everyone and even though we didn’t speak I kept stealing glances at her, feeling my heart flutter every time I caught her snuggling deeper into my hoodie in search of comfort.

Now, we’re back at the apartment. Tara and Chad are in Tara’s room, talking, according to Quinn, while the rest of us is gathered in the living room.

Well, almost everyone. Sam stayed downstairs when we got here, saying she needed a moment to compose herself.

I completely understand where she’s coming from, tonight’s been a lot and I get that she needs some space, but I still have an innate need to comfort her.

I know we’re not on the best of terms especially after our little tiff on the way to the party, but I still care deeply about her and I hate seeing her upset.

Which reminds me. . . I should probably have a little chat with Tara.

I set down the bottle I just took from the fridge after taking a big sip of water, and slowly make my way to Tara’s room.

Much to my surprise, Quinn is already there and what she’s saying makes my eyebrows rise up.

She’s saying something about cock blocking Tara and Chad, something they both vehemently deny and I slow down so as to not get into the middle of it.

Eventually they drop it though, and Quinn leaves the room, smirking at me when she passes me in the hallway before Chad exits the room as well after telling Tara not to kill Sam.

He sends me a small smile as he brushes past me and I pat his shoulder with a sympathetic look before going to the door and leaning against the doorframe.

Tara still hasn’t noticed me and when she lets herself fall back on the bed with a dopey smile I can’t help but smile too.

Oh, she and Chad have it bad for each other. I can’t wait to ask how and when that happened.

For now, there are more important things to talk about though.

I push myself back off the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” I say quietly.

Tara’s head whips around and she immediately sits up when she sees me, her dopey grin turning into a somber smile. “Y/N, hey. . .”

“Can I come in?” I ask and when Tara nods and pats the spot beside her I cross the room and take a seat next to her. “You okay?”

She shifts closer and rests her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “No, not really. I hate fighting with Sam, but she’s so overprotective, it’s suffocating. . . I’m sorry I didn’t greet you properly How was your drive? I thought you and Liam had plans for tonight?”

“We did, but he was called into work. The drive was fine, long, but fine and you don’t have to apologize, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” I nudge her softly and press a kiss to the top of her head. “As for Sam,” I continue. “I get it. It’s a lot and she might have overreacted tonight, but she’s just worried about you. I’m worried about you, I mean—Date Rape Frankie? Really?”

When Anika told Sam and me the name of the guy Tara’d left with I thought I’d heard wrong.

Tara winces and fidgets with her fingers.

“I know, I know. Not my best move, but I just. . . I want to make my own choices and, yes, Sam is worried, but she keeps treating me like a child. You don’t.“

I sigh and let her play with the bracelet on my wrist, so she stops fidgeting with her fingers. “No, I don’t. But she lives with you and takes care of you, and she was gone for five years, so she’s probably trying to make up for everything she missed.”

Tara doesn’t say anything, but her fingers still as she thinks about what I just said.

“I know it’s a lot, too much even some times, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. Sam loves you so much, Sprout.”

“I know. I love her, too, but. . .” Tara trails off and sighs.

I chuckle softly and press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah. . .”

We stay like that until Tara lifts her head off my shoulder a couple of moments later to study me.

When she does say anything, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “What?”

“You look. . . tired,” she says which makes me shrug.

“I mean, yeah. It’s late and the drive was pretty long,” I say, not knowing where she’s going with this, but Tara just shakes her head and deflates a little, her eyes softening.

“No, I don’t mean like that.” I frown, which prompts her to continue. “You and Sam. . . You barely speak these days and I can tell you’re both miserable because of it. I mean, I get that you have your own life and it was hard to stay in touch when you were in Boston and we were in Woodsboro, but we’re here now, so why don’t you try to fix things between the two of you.

I sigh. “It’s not that simple, Sprout. We’ve all changed and even though I love Sam with all my heart, I realized I can’t be around her. She doesn’t think of me as anything other than a friend a-and it hurts. It hurts so much, I just can’t be a friend .”

“But she loves you, too,” Tara tries to reason which makes my heart ache because oh how nice would it be if that was true. “You guys just have to talk. I mean, she watches all your games on TV and you’re the first one she wants to call when something’s wrong or when something good happens.“

I blink back tears and avert my eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything, Tara. She knows how I feel about her and she’s never done anything about it. Besides, why would she be fooling around with Danny if she loved me?”

Tara grabs my wrist to get me to look at her again. “She knows?! I mean, it’s pretty obvious, but. . . How? And since when? And who the fuck is Danny?”

I smile sadly at her rambling and pat the top of her hand. “Danny, you know—cute boy? No one knows though, so keep that to yourself. As for since when she’s known, Richie called me out on it at Amber’s. We never talked about it, but yeah, she knows. . .”

The pity that fills Tara’s eyes is almost too much for me to bear, and when she sigh and says, “I’m so sorry. . .” I have to blink back a new wave of tears.

“Well, it is what it is, Sprout, but I need you to know that no matter what happens between Sam and me, I’ll always be there for you. You can always call me and should you ever need a break from everything you can come visit me in Boston.“

Tara hugs me tightly and whispers, “Thank you.”

I hold her closer and press another kiss to the top of her head before pulling back and suggesting we join the others in the living room.

I still want to ask about her and Chad, but there will be time for that later.

She agrees and together we make our way to the living room where the others are in the middle of turning on the TV and finding something to watch.

It is pretty late, but it seems as though no one is ready to call it a night yet.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re watching as I go to the kitchen to retrieve my water bottle, but then a collective gasp makes me turn back and when my eyes land on the TV, I freeze.

A news host is talking about a recent Ghostface killing, and even though it could all just be a big coincidence, I have this eerie feeling that it’s not and that we’re in for another ride with the masked killer.

He’s back. Ghostface is back.

It’s just like Sidney said, they always come back.

Fuck.

Various scenarios of what might happen go through my head and I shudder when I think of anyone getting hurt, or worse, killed again.

Tara. . . Sam. . . The twins. No, please, no. Not again.

“Someone get Sam,” Mindy says. It snaps me out of my thoughts and before anyone can get up, I head to the front door.

Outside in the hallway, I peer over the banister, expecting her to be sitting on the stairs at the bottom of the stairwell where we left her. She’s not though, and when I see her standing there instead, holding onto the lapels of Danny’s jacket, I have to swallow the bitterness that rises in my throat.

So much for not being a thing. . .

I push my hurt away and focus on what’s important instead.

“Sam!” I shout, doing my best not to let my voice waver. “Get up here right now. There’s something you have to see.”

At the sound of my voice, both Sam and Danny immediately look up, and I try not to read too much into the way Sam instantly lets go of Danny and takes a step back.

They share a quick look before making their way up the stairs, and I turn to go back into the apartment without waiting for them.

I leave the door open and stand next to Chad, watching the news report until Sam comes storming in with Danny right behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asks and Chad just points at the TV.

Quinn smiles briefly at the sight of Danny and shoots Sam a knowing look, saying, “Cute Boy. . . nice,” but both Sam and Danny, despite his confusion at the nickname, don’t react.

They stare at the TV in a mix of surprise and confusion and when Mindy points out that one of the two victims was in their Film Studies Class, Sam’s face hardens and she turn to Tara, saying, “Pack a bag, we leave in ten.”

I can’t say I’m surprised because I knew she’d want to leave, but we already found out once that running away doesn’t work.

Sam heads into the kitchen to do god knows what and Tara looks at me pleadingly for a moment, hoping I’ll say something to change Sam’s mind but I just shake my head and sigh.

I’m scared, too, and once again a million scenarios of what could happen go through my head, but it’s not my place to interfere and even if I did, I doubt Sam would listen to me.

She’s got one thing on her mind right now, and that is protecting Tara, and even I won’t be able to change her mind, especially now after nine months of almost complete radio silence between the two of us.

Tara’s face falls, seeing that I’m not going to come to her rescue, and she jumps up to follow her sister into the kitchen, protesting. “Sam, wait! Sam!”

Danny frowns and goes to follow them, confused why Sam would just straight up pack a bag and leave at the first sign of trouble, but Chad steps in his way and places his hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you very much, suspicious new guy, but I think we’ve got it from here,” he says, ushering a still confused Danny out of the door before closing it land locking it.

I’ve got to say, I understand why Chad doesn’t trust him, but from what little I’ve seen of Danny so far, he seems like a decent guy and I doubt he has anything to do with this whole Ghostface situation.

“Sam, hold on!”

I turn back at the sound of Tara’s voice and try to hide my surprise at the sight of Sam coming back out of the kitchen with a knife in hand, Tara hot on her heels.

So that’s why she went into the kitchen. If you ask me, she’s overreacting just a little bit. Yes, Ghostface is back, but he’s not here right now, so I really don’t see the need for the knife.

“No, come on, we’re leaving,” Sam says, heading to her room, presumably to pack a bag, but before she gets there, Tara grabs her by the elbow and spins her around.

“No, wait! Let’s talk about this for a second ‘cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

True, but I doubt it. Still, I don’t get in the middle of it. I even take a step back to give them some room and when I glance at the others I see they’re also conflicted about what to believe and whose side to be on.

Well, they all are except Ethan. He just looks scared and his eyes keep darting between the two sisters and the TV.

When Sam points out that it can’t be a coincidence, Chad and Mindy back her up, mumbling, “Yeah, it is a little bit close to home,” I see Tara deflate.

She looks at me helplessly and I just shrug timidly, agreeing with the rest of them which prompts her to turn to Quinn for help. “Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right? Can you call him and find out what’s going on?” She turns back to glare at Sam, adding, “Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!”

Sam flinches slightly, but looks at Quinn for answers, her eyes filled with desperation and an underlying fear that makes me feel for her.

I’m scared, too.

The redhead cringes slightly and nods. She obviously doesn’t like the fact that she’s been roped into the fight, but she takes out her phone nonetheless. “I’m calling him now.”

Tara lets out an exasperated sigh. “Thank you.”

Quinn sends her a tight lipped smile and lifts her phone to her ear after dialing her dad’s number, only for the rest of us to flinch a second later when Sam’s phone starts ringing on the kitchen table.

Oh no.

Her eyes find mine and I do my best not to let my own fear show as I tilt my head, silently telling her to answer it.

Whatever happens, we’re in this together. The past nine months be damned.

She visibly shudders but takes her phone after setting down the knife. She doesn’t answer it though. She just stares at the display before declining the call and turning back around.

Huh. What was that?

The atmosphere is charged and a tense silence has settled over the living room and the only one who dares to break it a second later is an oblivious Ethan.

“Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?” he asks which makes Anika roll her eyes and say, “You’ve got to keep up my dude.”

She’s right. How can he not know Ghostface calls his victims every time before he attacks. By now, that’s like common knowledge because Stab is a franchise everyone knows, but then again, he doesn’t strike me as someone who watches horror movies, so his question seems fair.

“Sam? My dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn says, getting off the couch and holding out her phone.

Right. Her dad.

Sam takes the phone and we all watch with baited breath as she raises it to her ear, saying, “Mr. Bailey, hi,” but then a thought strikes me and I’m quick to pull out my own phone and excuse myself for a moment.

I dial Liam’s number in the hallway outside of the apartment, waiting with a racing heart until he finally picks up.

It’s not been confirmed that Ghostface is back, but I still have to warn him. I can’t ask him to leave again because of his new job, but I can give him a heads up.

“Hey, Y/N. You good? I’m sorry I know it’s late and you probably thought I’d be home by now, but my boss—“

“No, no, it’s not that.” I cut him off, but before I can say anything else he beats me to it.

“Okay, good. You know speaking of my boss, he’s a big fan of yours and I may or may not have slipped him your resume and he’d love you to work for him should you retire any time soon.l

I shake my head even though Liam can’t see me and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Liam—“

“Also I talked to Paige on my way to dinner and she’s, like, so jealous the two of us are spending a couple of days together, even though you visited her in Portland a couple of weeks ago and—“

“Liam!”

Liam shuts up instantly and for a second there’s silence. When he speaks up again the concern in his voice makes it clear that he knows something is wrong. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

I exhale shakily and tighten my grip on the phone. “He’s back, Lee. . . Ghostface is back.”

“What? But—“

“Listen to me,” I say sternly before he can go on. “I know I can’t ask you to leave again, but I need you to keep your distance from me until this whole thing blows over. Stay vigilant, stay in crowded places and maybe even stay with a friend for a couple of days. He might not be after you, but you’re my friend and when he finds out he might want to hurt you.”

Liam huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “If you think I’m going to go into hiding and let you face this motherfucker alone again you’re out of your mind, Y/N! Let me—“

“No! You’re staying out of this.”

“You can’t just decide that for me!” He fires back and I clench my jaw.

“Liam, the less people that are involved, the better,” I say. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, if something happened to you because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself. You’re not going into hiding, you’re keeping yourself safe. . . I’ve faced Ghostface before, so I know what I’m getting into, and we’re prepared this time. Quinn’s dad is a cop.”

“Y/N. . .”

“Lee,” I whisper, feeling a lump growing in my throat. “It’s going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay as long as you stay out of it, okay? Please promise me you’ll do what I said.“

I hear Liam sigh and it’s clear he doesn’t want to agree, but he does eventually. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Thank you.” I swallow thickly. “I’ve got to get going now, but before I do. . . Please, don’t tell Paige about this. She’ll only worry and she’ll want to come here to help.”

“I know,” Liam says. “I won’t tell her.”

“Thank you.” I hang up after telling him to stay safe, and turn around just in time to see Sam and Tara coming out of the apartment.

Both of them have changed out of their clothes from the party. Tara’s wearing a striped shirt, jeans, and a pink corduroy jacket and Sam is wearing a simple white long-sleeved shirt and my hoodie.

Her necklace glints in the low light and distracts me for a moment.

“Hey, where are you guys going?” I ask when I snap out of it.

Sam grimaces. “Detective Bailey asked me to come down to the station because they found my driver’s license at the crime scene and Tara’s coming with me.”

“What? How’d that get there?” I ask, following them down the stairs without hesitation.

Wherever they go, I go, even though I’m only wearing a shirt and I know it’s going to be a little chilly outside.

Sam throws her hands up, keeping her eyes trained on the stairs so as to not stumble while Tara holds onto my arm. “I have no idea, but I reported that it was stolen two nights ago.”

Why would someone steal and then plant her license at a crime scene? It’s almost like they’re trying to frame her, but why?

I feel like I’m missing something.

We step outside and I wrinkle my nose at the smell of wet dirt and urine. It rained while we were inside, I realize, and the air is much cooler than I thought it would be, but there’s no turning back now, so I just lean into Tara when she huddles closer for warmth after noticing the goosebumps on my arms.

I’m just glad it’s not raining anymore.

Sam is walking two paces ahead of us, seemingly lost in thought and I’m about to speak up and ask her to tell us what’s on her mind when her phone suddenly rings.

She stops walking and Tara and I catch up to her, watching her pull her phone out of her pocket.

I freeze when I see the caller ID and the three of us share a horrified look.

Richie Kirsch

“What the fuck?” Tara whispers.

“I never deleted his contact,” Sam admits.

“Don’t pick that up, just let it ring,” I warn, knowing that it can’t be anyone but Ghostface, but after looking around with a clenched jaw, Sam picks it up anyway.

Tara and I share an incredulous look, but we stay quiet when Sam asks, “Who is this?”

I can’t hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but even without the speaker I can make out Ghostface’s distorted voice.

Sam tenses and she stares straight ahead, her grip on her phone so harsh her knuckles are turning white. “I want you to think long and hard about whether you really want to do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead,” she spits and my chest fills with pride at how confident she sounds.

Ghostface says something I can’t quite make out, but I don’t focus on him because as he speaks, a hooded figure rounds the corner in front of us.

They’re on the phone as well with their head down so we can’t make out their face and I instantly shake off Tara and step in front of her and Sam.

Not today. . .

My ears start ringing and I ball my shaking hands into fists, ready to pounce, but then the stranger looks up with furrowed eyebrows. It’s a man in his late thirties, and he looks weirded out by the fact that we’re just starring at him, but he doesn’t comment on it and simply walks by while still talking on the phone.

I feel a hand on my lower back and deflate a little.

That wasn’t him. . .

I turn, thinking it’s Tara who’s touching me, only to freeze when I realize it’s Sam.

She’s not looking at me, and I’m not even sure she knows what she’s doing, but when I shift out of reach her jaw twitches.

“So, what? You’re protecting us now?” she asks Ghostface which makes me frown.

What are they talking about?

Tara steps closer and tries to listen to what they’re saying with a frown of her own pulling at her lips all while resting a hand on my forearm to make sure I don’t go anywhere.

A police car races past us with blaring sirens and blinking lights, but I keep my focus on Sam whose face tightens more and more with every word Ghostface spews.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, asshole,” she says with a tilt of her head which only fuels my earlier confusion.

Yeah, I’m definitely missing something here.

Tara looks at me, her brown eyes filled with worry and I go to comfort her by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, but then movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention right as Sam says, “You better watch yours!”

I spin around and pull Tara behind me just in time to kick Ghostface in the stomach before he can get his hands on either of us.

He stumbles back and doubles over, and I use his momentary distraction to push Sam and Tara in front of me.

“Shit! Run!” I shout and they do as I say, running ahead with me hot on their heels.

I keep checking over my shoulder where Ghostface is, and my stomach sinks when I see him picking himself up faster than anticipated.

Shit. He’s tough. And he’s not small either.

“Help! Please!” Tara shouts, but no one in their car hears her and there are no pedestrians around, so Sam does what I would have done too if I was in front and drags Tara around the corner and into a bodega.

I follow them inside and turn so I can keep my eyes on the door while they frantically plead with the man behind the register to call 911.

The other customers who’re stand in line to pay for their stuff complain and shout at us for cutting the line, but I ignore them and keep my eyes on the door.

And then he comes in. Ghostface stands tall and unbothered, looking almost calm which makes him even more menacing than when he was chasing us.

I take a step back, bumping into Sam and Tara, and keep my eyes on him when one of the customers who complained about us cutting the line steps in front of him.

“You got a problem here, guy?” he asks Ghostface and I have to suppress a scream when not even a second later, Ghostface pulls a knife out of his robe and stabs him with it.

The other customer gasp and scream in horror as absolute chaos breaks out, and I don’t protest when Sam pulls me backward, further into the store and away from Ghostface who drops the customer he just stabbed before ramming his knife into the neck of another guy who comes at him.

It’s all happening so fast, it feels like a dream, but I know it’s not because Sam keeps dragging me with her and Tara until we’re at the back of the store with our backs against the coolers.

Ghostface’s latest victim collapses, his lifeless eyes staring at me when he lands on the floor and I think this is it. He’s going to kill us now, but then the store owner behind the register pulls out a shotgun and fires it at Ghostface.

He misses, but it makes Ghostface scramble for cover and Sam, Tara, and I stare in horror as the owner cocks the gun, his eyes scanning the isles for any sign of the masked killer.

“Go out the back!” he shouts and we rush to the back door, but it’s locked and before the owner can give us the key, Ghostface appears out of nowhere.

He stabs the poor man in his shoulder and rips the gun out of his hands before shoving him to the ground and shooting him without a moment’s hesitation.

The sight makes my blood run cold, but it’s a reminder that if we don’t act, we’re going to be next, so I’m quick to pull Sam and Tara to the ground behind one of the nearby shelves.

There’s only one way out, and Ghostface is blocking it, so we’ll either have to somehow get around him or distract him long enough for the police to get here.

I’m sure by now someone’s already called them, but with Ghostface each second counts and if we don’t play this right we’ll be dead long before anyone can help us.

We crawl down an isle out of sight of Ghostface, but when we hear the shotgun cock again, we stop.

It’s nearer than I would have liked and my heart pounds in my chest when I meet Tara’s and Sam’s eyes.

They’re both white as a wall and Tara is crying silently, her mascara running down her cheek, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep my own panic at bay.

This is like the time Tara and I hid in the hospital. We’re sitting ducks, just like we were back then, and I know the only thing that kept us alive back then was staying as calm as possible for as long as possible. Well, that and Dewey, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

Deep breaths, Y/N.

There’s a crunch, and I close my eyes, trying to figure out where Ghostface might be heading. Not a moment later though, a shot rings out and my eyes fly open again when the glass door of the cooler behind us shatters.

Tara let’s out an involuntary whimper which leads to another shot being fired in our direction. It hits the shelf above us and makes bags of chips explode and rain down on us.

Then, silence.

Sam ushers us around the other side of the shelf and we press ourselves against it in hopes of making ourselves less visible and for a moment I feel her hand on mine.

Even now, her touch sends sparks up my arm, but I don’t look at her. I just turn my hand around and slip my fingers between her trembling ones, squeezing gently.

It’s not an acknowledgment of defeat—I’m not going to just let us die like this— but I want to reassure her that I’m here. I’m here and I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent anything from happening to her or Tara.

They have to get out of here. That’s all that matters.

The sound of approaching footsteps right behind us makes me hold my breath, and my eyes dart around the floor in front of us until they land on a crushed soda can.

It’s by Sam’s feet and when I squeeze her hand again and tilt my head in the direction of it, she reaches for it. Tara watches us with wide eyes and a tear running down her cheek.

We need a distraction. That’s our only chance.

Sam shoots me a questioning look, but I just raise my hand in front of us and hold up three fingers.

3. . .

She frowns, but I gesture at the can and fold down a finger.

2. . .

Understanding dawns on her and I nod encouragingly and jut my chin in the direction of the other side of the store before folding down another finger.

1. . .

I fold down my last finger and Sam grits her teeth before throwing the can.

It clatters against a shelf on the other side of the store and not even a second later a gunshot rings out.

This is my chance.

I jump up, much to Sam’s and Tara’s surprise and make a run for Ghostface who’s got his back turned to me.

At the sound of my footsteps, he spins around and aims the gun at me. My heart drops for a moment, but when he pulls the trigger nothing happens.

He didn’t reload it which is exactly what I was counting on.

I close the remaining distance between us and grab the barrel of the gun and push it up so it’s no longer pointing at me. I push against it with all my strength which makes Ghostface stumble back and into a shelf.

“Y/N!” Sam shouts when he manages to cock the gun again.

I grunt and shout, “Run!” right before he pulls the trigger. This time the gun fires, but Ghostface misses me because the barrel is still pointing at the ceiling.

Debris rains down on us as our struggle continues and because my hands are sweaty, my grip on the gun slips until I’m shoved backward.

“No!” Sam’s scream breaks my heart when Ghostface reloads the gun and points it at me, but just like the first time, nothing happens when he pulls the trigger.

It’s empty.

“Run, Sam!” I shout again, lunging at Ghostface before he can grab his knife. “Get out of here!”

“No!” she cries in protest and when I catch a glimpse of her to my left I’m surprised to see that Tara is actively holding her back and dragging her to the front door of the bodega. “Y/N! No!”

“Just go!” I try to focus all my attention on Ghostface, but Sam’s continued cries of protest make my heart hurt until Tara finally manages to get her outside.

I honestly don’t know how she did it because she’s like a foot shorter than Sam, but all that matters right now is that they’re both safe.

Ghostface and I stumbled through the store, hitting every shelf imaginable all while I’m trying to stop him from reaching for his knife.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss through gritted teeth when he slams my face against the cooler, making the already cracked glass break completely.

Something warm runs down my cheek, but I don’t have time to wipe it away because not a moment later I’m kneed in the stomach and I double over, coughing.

This Ghostface is nothing like Amber or Richie. Whoever’s under the mask knows what they’re doing and if it wasn’t for the nearing police sirens I know I’d be done for.

Ghostface shoves me once more for good measure, making me drop to my knees. Then he hurries out of the bodega, leaving me alone to cough and chuckle mirthlessly in disbelief.

Sam and Tara are okay. I’m okay.

I sit down and stretch my legs out in front of me.

They’re both okay.

I rest my head back against the frame of the broken cooler door and catch my breath while watching the red and blue lights of the police cars dance on the ceiling.

I can hear some shouting, someone’s probably calling for me, but I’m too exhausted to respond, so I just close my eyes and wrap my arms around my aching stomach.

I stay like that for what feels like minutes but is probably just a few seconds in real life before feeling warm hands on my cheeks.

“Y/N, hey, open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me. Are you okay?” Sam’s shaky voice makes me open my eyes and when I see her kneeling in front of me, I smile weakly.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but she doesn’t seem to believe me. Her eyes dart all over my face and she brushes her thumb just below the cut on my cheek. “Hey. . . I promise, I’m okay,” I say again when her chin starts quivering and in response she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug.

I return the embrace, although a little less energetic because my stomach still hurts and rub my hands up and down her back. I keep repeating that I’m okay until Tara comes into the store, followed by two police officer’s who take in the scene with wide eyes.

She drops down onto her knees as well as soon as she’s by my side and I’m quick to include her in the hug.

This is just the beginning, but we’re okay, and I will continue to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.

_______________________________________________

Good God, that was stressful, but we’re okay!

Hope you guys enjoyed this part. For some reason it was a bit of a struggle to write, but I did it and I can move on now.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[love-byers]

this is weaponized incompetence at this point holy fuck

"he didn't think having his mom help her get home meant never seeing her again"

WHAT ELSE IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?? WAS HE GOING TO MAKE SCHEDULED VISITS TO PENNHURST TO SEE HER????

he wasn't concerned with where she came from, he just wanted her out of the way so they could go out looking for will again. "We'll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out. And this time, we find Will."

and yes of COURSE mike wanted her to be home safe. he's a fucking nice person and she was a cold, lost, scared kid. he wanted to make sure she got taken care of and back home safe, and he was gonna focus on finding will again. and i don't know why they think him letting her stay bc she was in danger means he's in love with her. she said bad people were trying to kill her of course he let her stay😭😭 that doesn't indicate romantic love though. and later when dustin and lucas were getting on mike for not going through with the original plan he tells them she needs to stay because she knows will and she knows how to find him, and that the bad people after her might be the same people who took will. no one is trying to say he didn't care about her, but if what he did for el indicates romantic love then he's 1000% in love with will too lmfao

and keep in mind this whole time mike is supposed to KNOW he's in love with her, his words not mine. he's supposedly in love when he says "She'll send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from" ??

and again, no one is trying to say mike hated el or didnt care about her or anything like that. mike was a child doing the best he could in that situation, he wanted to find will and help el. but mike himself claims he had already crossed the line into PURE ROMANTIC LOVE and KNEW IT. if that was the case then he would not be saying those things, he just wouldn't. in stranger things we are shown that characters love each other by their careful attentive behavior towards each other and their desire to stay together as a team, and they take time to get to that point, they need to develop. this is why love at first sight just does not work as a label for mike and el's relationship. mikes behavior does not indicate that at all. you'd have to bend and twist and reach in order to make it make sense (when it still wouldn't anyway), and THAT my friend is 10x more delulu than anything bylers say lol

can s5 come out already so we can be done with this shit

[coraniaid]

I know it's never going to happen, but it sure would be nice if people in the Buffy fandom could shut about how much they hate Kennedy. We get it, you're boring and predictable and have poor taste. But why not just ... keep it to yourself? Why assume everybody scrolling the tags wants to read your bad takes?

You don't even have anything original to say.

"Oh, but the writers rushed Willow into a new relationship too soon; Willow would never--"

I'm sorry, but are we talking about Willow Rosenberg, the girl who tried to encourage Buffy back into "date mode" because "love is nice" not only weeks after Buffy's ex-boyfriend had lost his soul, but while he was still actively terrorizing her and trying to kill her friends? The girl who tried to set Buffy up with a new boyfriend, because "you're ready now", just days after Buffy got back from months spent hiding out alone in a strange city while grieving over having to send that same ex-boyfriend to hell to save the world? Who -- after said ex came back from hell and then broke up with her -- then pushed her to try to date the first person who seemed interested in her in college, no matter how reluctant Buffy told her she was and how little either of them knew about him? That's the Willow we're talking about? That's the girl you think wouldn't rush into a new relationship?

Willow has always invested a huge amount of her self-worth in being worthy of love and being able to be loved by others, and she's always assumed that everyone else does the same. That's who she is. We're talking about the girl who ran off to cry when she realized the friend she'd been crushing on for years was dating somebody she didn't like because "it means you'd rather be with somebody you hate than be with me". The girl who only finally got over said crush when she started dating somebody new. Who was so upset when he left her too, years later, that she attracted the attention of a vengeance demon who told her she had "pain that pierces dimensional walls"; and who only really got over that when she met Tara. Who later describes her relationship with Tara as "the only thing" she had going for her. All the way back in Season 1, the first episode that ever focused on Willow was about her attracting the romantic attention of a demon obsessed with wanting its followers to love and worship it. Wanting to be loved is, arguably, the most consistent character trait Willow has ever had.

And look: Willow tortured and killed the man who murdered Tara; she came close to ending the world rather than living in it without her; when she comes back to Sunnydale months later, still mourning, she makes a point of visiting Tara's grave. She's twenty-one years old. It's not moving too fast for her to want to be part of a relationship again; it's the only way somebody like Willow can really stop being unhappy and find some measure of peace and emotional stability. Do you really want Willow to end the show miserable and single and mourning? Do you think that shows more respect towards Tara?

"Oh, but Kennedy is so different from Tara, surely Willow would never--"

We don't know what Willow's type is! Before Season 7, Tara is the only woman we ever see Willow show the slightest bit of interest in! And, again, Willow is twenty one years old. She met Tara when they were both teenagers. Are you still exclusively interested in the type of person you were attracted to when you were a teenager?

Tara is different enough from Oz, who was different enough from Xander, that I think it's safe to guess that Willow's romantic taste is broader than you might think. And the one thing that Kennedy does have in common with Tara (and with Oz before her) is that she is very, very obviously into Willow as soon as they meet. That's what we know about Willow's type: she falls for people who are, on sight, transfixed by Willow.

"Oh, but Kennedy treats Buffy so disrepectfully, she--"

Wow. A teenage girl not showing proper reverence to an older, more experienced person who -- without consulting her about it -- positions themselves as some sort of unelected authority figure? Oh, yes, I can see why fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer would hate somebody like that. That's nothing like anybody we've seen on the show before.

Why should Kennedy like Buffy? Why should she respect her? She doesn't know her! Anything she's heard about Buffy Summers before Season 7 she'd have heard from the Watchers, who have no reason to be honest or favorable about her. When she gets to Sunnydale she gets to live in Buffy's crowded, cramped house, and train in her garden all day, and listen to speeches by somebody who tells her she's probably going to die soon and will probably deserve it. Somebody who doesn't make any effort to get to know her or bond with her as a person. Somebody who mocks girls like her for being driven to suicide (girls who are, in Buffy's words, "weak" and "idiots"), who sleeps with vampires and is friends with demons and comes up with plans that get the other Potentials -- Kennedy's friends, girls Kennedy herself feels responsible for (just like Buffy would if their positions were reversed!) -- seriously hurt or even killed. What does Buffy ever do to earn Kennedy's respect?

Don't get me wrong, most of Buffy's friends treat her pretty terribly this season [this is not a comment about Buffy's friends as much as it is about the quality of the writing this season]. But while Dawn or Willow or Xander helping to kick Buffy out of her own house is appalling and ungrateful and out of character, when Kennedy does it it makes sense. Buffy hasn't ever treated Kennedy as a friend, so why would she magically become one?

"Oh, but Kennedy is so rich and entitled and bossy, she--"

You're a hypothetical Buffy fan on Tumblr. I know if I look I will find posts talking about how much you like Season 1 Cordelia Chase. I'm just saying that maybe this isn't a route you want to go down.

"Oh, but Kennedy's just in the season too much, I wanted more focus on the original--"

This season does try to juggle too many characters, and it would be better if it spent more time examining Buffy's relationship with Willow and Xander and Giles. But the way you achieve that is by downplaying Andrew Wells (a lot), cutting out a lot of the more forgettable Potentials, entirely getting rid of Caleb [the actual worst Buffy character, for the record] and throwing out the awful time-wasting subplots around Spike's hypnotic trigger and the non-mystery of Giles obviously not being the First. It's not by reducing the amount of screen time Kennedy or Robin Wood get, because they are the new characters this season should actually be about.

"Oh, but-"

No, enough. I'm sick of it.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 8

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, lawyers. Summary: A visit to your grandmother's lawyer and the matter of your inheritance make things slightly more complicated. Notes: We're sort of barreling toward the third act of a relatively short soulmate story here, folks! Thank you so much to all of the readers who have stuck with Zach's journey 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

The funeral isn’t long, because your grandmother would have hated people moaning and crying over her being gone, but the time spent with friends and visitors and extended family in the house seems interminable. Zach plays a steady role in keeping things organized and the food flowing, and you make sure that the buffet tables are stocked as people arrive throughout the day with contributions. It seems as though grief finally catches up with your mother after the services have all finished, and she excuses herself early to go up to bed. With your assurance that you can take care of everything, your father joins her, and that leaves you and Zach to host as well as clean up. Thankfully, it does mean that you can make sure your mother is taken care of. Out of habit, she tries to be as little of an inconvenience to the people around her as possible, so it’s good that she’s taking care of herself in a time of need.

The house is spotless when you and Zach go to bed on Thursday night. When you wake up on Friday morning there are plenty of leftovers to eat for breakfast, but your parents aren’t up yet so you leave a note that you’re going out. It’s time to see the lawyer, and handle the final wave of logistics before the weekend comes and you fly back to meet the ship.

“Listen. We can stop by and grab some coffee before we get to the office.” Zach offers, reaching for your hand as he drives. He’s been the one hauling you around and he likes it. Learning your hometown easier this way and he’s figured out he prefers to be the one in control behind the wheel. “What do you say? We can pick her up a chai tea.” She had mentioned she had chai with your grandmother when you scheduled the appointment time on the phone.

“Sure.” His fingers slide through yours in a comforting movement of silent support. “Do you want to go back to the place by the park?”

“They had pretty good coffee.” He agrees, flashing you a grin. He loves a good cup of coffee and he’s been a little homesick for the café on the ship. “I think you would probably love a latte right now.”

“I definitely would. And a croissant breakfast sandwich.” Not that you expect this meeting to be very long, but it’s good to have a fully belly and a clear head for anything involving business.

“You read my mind.” He laughs. “I didn’t want anything in the fridge this morning, as bad as that is to say.”

“Me either.” You hold his hand in your lap while he drives. “Maybe because I know we’ll be eating it for dinner, too. We can skip it for breakfast.”

“Perfectly logical to me.” Things have been quiet, mournful, but that’s to be expected. Darrel had yet to come by to check on your parents today, but maybe that would happen when you are at the lawyer’s office.

The drive doesn’t take long. It doesn’t take long to get to much of anything in this town, but the lawyer’s office is on the edge of things near the city so it’s about as far as you can get without actually going into Tulsa. This is the good side of town. The built up, cared for, manicured side of town. The side of town people actually go to for things other than going home.

“We’re here to see Miss Flores.” You tell the receptionist when you walk in with your small treat of coffees and purse high on your shoulder. The sandwiches had been demolished in the car while they were hot. “We have an appointment for ten o’clock, I know we’re a few minutes early.”

She checks your name against the appointment schedule and smiles as she stands up. "Of course. My condolences." She offers before coming around the desk to usher you through double glass doors. "Miss Flores instructed me to show you into the conference room." She explains. "I will let her know you are here, right away."

“Thank you.” Manners are the best you can do right about now. You’ve never had to go see a lawyer about a loved one’s last wishes before. It’s overwhelming at best and horrifying at worst. Once the receptionist leaves you alone in the conference room, you set down the tray of drinks and plop into a comfortable looking chair. “Maybe we can ask if she has the keys to Gram’s house? I’m still hoping I can show you more than just the outside.”

"Maybe so." He was impressed when told that the locks had been changed. It kept people from being dishonest. Not that he thought you or your parents would be, but other family members might feel entitled to mementos that weren't theirs.

"I hope so." The latte that you ordered very particularly is still hot in the cup holder, but you take that and Zach's coffee out to sit with and maybe start to sip.

“Is there anything you hope she’s left you?” He asks curiously, knowing that you’ve spoken extensively about the memories. Maybe there is something that would symbolize it for you.

"It's a long shot," you admit, sitting back with your latte. "But..." Glancing at Zach feels loaded, so you look down at your hands. "We had talked a few times when I was growing up about her wedding dress. She always said she would do the alterations for me herself, but...I never really knew if I'd ever get married so it hadn't been mentioned for a long time."

“Then I hope she has left it to you.” He hums softly, a smile curving his lips at the thought of you in a wedding dress.

"What's that look for?" Alright, you peeked at his face when he started talking. Just to make sure he wasn't too twisted up about the idea of you thinking about weddings.

“Trying to imagine you in a wedding dress I’ve never seen.” He admits, grinning as he reaches out and takes your hand.

"Yeah?" It might be the happiest thought you've had in a week, and for a moment you let the joy of it wash over you until you remember once more that your grandmother won't be able to see you marry the man beside you — if you ever decide to tie the knot, that is.

He sees the way your eyes cloud over with sorrow, fresh grief as if another notion has hit you. He leans over and presses his lips to yours. “I know, baby, I know.” He murmurs softly. “But she’d still be there.”

"I'm sorry." You have to sniffle back fresh tears, and even though he always says you don't need to be sorry for grieving, you don't want your first reaction to talking about marriage with him to be tears of sadness. "I'm okay. I promise."

“Baby, I know.” He soothes you, rubbing your shoulder. “When we get married, we will make sure that she will be with us.” You have talked about her a lot, she’s an important part of your life, so it’s important to him that you feel her presence on that special day.

"I like the sound of 'when'," you sigh into his chest when he hugs you close, welcoming the warmth and strength of him before you hear a polite knock at the conference room door and the gentle click of a doorknob turning.

Zach doesn’t jump away from you. He does pull back, kissing your hairline again. The lawyer who handled the case seems to understand how special your gram was to you, so he doesn’t feel like it would be a surprise that you need comfort. He turns towards Miss Flores with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind me being here.” He offers. “Emotional support.”

"Of course not." She understands already that the two of you come as a unit. Thankfully this meeting should be full of good news despite the emotional weight. Tanya Flores sets her paperwork down on the desk, gratefully accepts the hot chai when it is offered to her, and pulls her reading glasses out of her pocket. "There is quite a bit of paperwork to get through, as you can see," she pats the stack in front of her. "But hopefully it shouldn't be difficult."

Zach is a little confused by the amount of paperwork, knowing that it shouldn’t be that much just to have a dress and maybe a few baubles, but he doesn’t say anything. “Did she want everyone brought in separately?” He asks.

"Incidentally?" Miss Flores opens the folder on top of the stack and offers a smile. "This is everyone."

Your brow furrows instantly, confusion making you shift closer to Zach in your chair and wondering if it would be terribly immature to sneak a peek at the paperwork in that folder. "I don't understand."

"You are your grandmother's sole heir," the lawyer tells you gently, and she folds her hands over the top of the open folder. "She was very specific about making sure her estate was in good order for whenever it would be passed to you."

Zach freezes before looking over at you in surprise. He has no clue what that might entail, but he shifts slightly in his chair, aware that it is probably substantial. Hell, she owned a house, a gorgeous one. “Wow.” He murmurs.

"But..." Feeling more than a little shocked by that news, you shift in your chair and look quickly between Zach and Miss Flores as if their faces might hold the answer you're looking for. "She had other family. My mother, my aunt. She had two other grandkids. None of them?"

Flores shakes her head, quietly amused that this question had been anticipated. "She felt that the other potential inheritors — her daughters, and your two cousins, specifically — she felt that they were well provided for already and that you would benefit most from what her estate had to offer." When she smiles this time, there is something nostalgic in it. "She confided in me several times that you were her favorite, Bunny. That you reminded her the most of herself."

“If-“ he knows you are struggling with the idea of getting everything, you aren’t a selfish person in the least. “If she wanted to let the cousins, her aunt, mom, have some sentimental items - that’s alright, right?” He asks, sure that if it was, it might make you feel better.

"Yes." She nods in agreement, flipping one more page of the file open. "Once the paperwork is signed, the estate is yours to do with as you see fit, with one notable exception."

"Which is?" You ask, swallowing down the idea of your grandmother having put her entire life in your hands. It's a wonderful, loving gesture. But also a bit overwhelming.

"Her real estate holdings." Miss Flores produces a pen from nowhere and sits back in her seat. "Her will is quite strict about those going to you and you alone."

Zach frowns slightly, knowing that your grandmother knew that you didn’t want to live in Oklahoma. So why would the house go to you. “To sell?” He asks, knowing you might have some conflicting feelings about letting go of a piece of her legacy. “You don’t have to, babe.” He promises you.

"I really don't...I didn't expect this." He knows that. He knows you didn't think that very much would go to you. Some records. A keepsake or two. Her wedding dress is you were very lucky. But the house? That's enormous. "So..." You turn back to Miss Flores and try to gather your thoughts. "The house has to go to me. Does that mean I can never sell it?"

"Not at all. It simply means that she wanted you to be the one to make the decisions and to have the final say. She specifies in the document that she would prefer for you to wait until you are comfortably settled to consider selling anything, but a sale is your prerogative."

"So what does all of this really mean?" It's a lot of information to take in all at once, and you're not sure where to start. "Can I see her will?"

“Your grandmother wished that you would read her letter first.” She pulls out a creamy vellum envelope that has your gram’s familiar loopy script, your name on the outside of it.

A letter. Now that is familiar. That is something you hoped for. That is something you can deal with, as Miss Flores hands over the envelope and you take in the fact that it is very thin indeed.

Bunny, My sweet girl. If you're reading this, I'm very sorry. I can only hope you're happy in your life and that the choices you have made have helped you grow as the wonderful woman I'm very proud to call my granddaughter. Throughout the course of my life, there have been so many ups and downs. I know that has already been the same for you. That you have worked so hard for the life that you love and are proud of. You are a shining light, sweet girl. I know you will make all of us so proud and your family so happy. I wish you had been able to meet your grandfather, Bun. He was a wonderful man, and a clever one. My soulmate always knew exactly what to say and how to support me. From what you've told me of your Zach, they sound very much alike. Well, your grandfather was also smart. He taught me about investments and real estate. He wanted to make sure I would be able to take care of myself after he was gone. That income has been what kept me going these last few decades, and I hope that it will for you, too. Tanya will explain the logistics, sweet girl, but the heart of it is that I love you. That I have always been more proud of you heart and your spunk and your dreams than anyone else I've known. You're going to go as far in this life as you dream, my girl, and I hope that with a little help from your Gram it's not just hard work getting you there, but a little fun too.

I love you. I'm so proud of you. And don't let anyone else's dreams muddy up the beautiful ones that are yours alone.

Love, Gram.

Zach doesn’t look over your shoulder. He’s sure that you will share it with him. Instead, he watches you. Giving you his presence, and you when you choke out a sob and reach for his hand, he’s right there.

He knows how important this goodbye letter is, he’s read them before, been the distributor of a fallen brother’s final words. The peace and simultaneous heartbreak it brings is almost necessary for you. A memento of your gram’s last thought to you that you can reread again and again.

Tanya's instructions were very straightforward. After giving you the letter, she is supposed to present to you the three pieces of real estate holding that now belong to you. From the folder in front of her, she produces two maps and sets them in the middle of the table. "Your grandmother owned three buildings. One is this," she indicates the map on the left. "Her house here in Tulsa. Three bedrooms, two bath, fenced in yard and landscaped patio. I know you know this house very well." She clears her throat softly. "The other two are here," she indicates the map on the right. "A performance venue and nearby townhouse in Brooklyn Heights, New York."

“New York?” Zach doesn’t mean to say that out loud, but it startles him. Had she been planning something?

“When I helped her purchase the properties some years ago, she had very specific intentions,” Tanya explains. “Apparently, this theater and the townhouse used to belong to her late husband’s family. It was a vaudeville theater, then a movie house, and then they had to sell. So they sold the house too, and left the city. The opportunity arose about ten years ago for her to buy both properties, and she wanted them to come back to the family. She has been living off the income as an absentee landlady for a decade, which suited her just fine as she had very few expenses. But…” Next from the folder are floor plans, which she sets out in front of you and Zach. “When she learned that you had found your soulmate and he is a chef, she started researching plans to update the club’s kitchen.” Tanya smiles as the tears of recognition start to form in your eyes. “She was planning on giving you the nightclub to run and the home to raise your family in as a wedding present. But she wrote out her will with specifics just in case she didn’t get to see you married.”

“Holy shit.” Zach is stunned, letting go of your hand to slump back onto his chair in shock. A gift of that magnitude is nearly impossible to imagine. “A dinner club.” He murmurs softly, rubbing a hand over his face as he takes it all in.

“That’s…basically what we’re doing on the ship…” Which your grandmother knew. She was a clever and thoughtful woman. She understood what she was doing when she put all of these pieces together. The puzzle was a complete picture to her. “Oh my god. I don’t…” you gape, stunned into staggering silence. “She—she really left us all of it?”

“Yes she did.” Tanya Flores smiles. “It was her hope that you would establish a club that would fulfill your dreams and spark your creativity.” It was touching how far the grandmother had gone to help you accomplish your dreams. “Right now, there are tenants in the townhouse, but whenever you are ready, we can give them notice since they are month to month.”

“I don’t…” you glance at Zach and frown. “I don’t feel very good about asking people to give up their home.”

Zach can understand that, but he reaches out and covers your hand with his. “Whatever you want to do.” He promises, knowing that it has to be your choice.

"There are a lot of things to consider." A lot of things that will change your entire lives. There are no two ways about that. Your grandmother has rocked that boat with one fell swoop.

"Of course." Tanya agrees. "I understand you're both working on a cruise ship right now. If you like, for the duration of your contracts, my office can work with a real estate agent in Brooklyn to help the couple in the town house relocate. We will make sure they have all the time and help necessary to find a comparable home."

"That would be...it would be much better." The thought of kicking people out of their home would have horrified you just from your own experiences trying to find places to live in the city, but knowing what Zach went through? You would never.

Zach smiles at the palpable relief that is on your face. Thrilled that you don’t have to worry about kicking someone out of the home they are in. “And if they move quickly? You can always have Diana stay in the townhouse.” He suggests.

“She would love that.” But you would never ask the family living there now to leave earlier for that purpose.

Sitting beside Zach, you push out a a long breath and carefully slide the map and floor plan of the townhouse toward the two of you. It’s got four bedrooms, almost as many baths, a little backyard behind the place, and some unexpected underground parking spaces. “Look at this,” you almost laugh in disbelief when you point that detail out to him. “Maybe we could even get a car.” As city dwellers, neither of you had or had needed a car for the last few years. Maybe it would be something to think about for the future.

“Wow.” He snorts. “We would be the taxi service for everyone we know.” He jokes. “And I seem to be pretty good about driving that big ass SUV around.” It wasn’t as big as some of the trucks he had driven in the Marines, but it also rides a hell of a lot better.

"One day." He sounds so excited about it that's actually pretty sweet. "But nothing as big as that SUV." Suddenly, though, you go soft all over. "Unless it's for kids."

“Hmmmm.” Zach doesn’t panic, he has the same soft look in his eyes that you do. “Yeah, kids need room.”

"First thing's first." You reach for his hand again and thread your fingers together, holding it in your lap as you turn back to face Miss Flores. "I'm sure this is more complicated than handing us the keys and sending us on our way?"

“And we need to protect her inheritance.” Zach adds. “Is there - I mean - like a prenup before a prenup?” He asks. “Something to protect her?”

"There are measures that can be taken." Tanya confirms, touched to see your soulmate working tirelessly on your side. "The financial assets of the estate have been placed in a trust to be paid out to you in a monthly stipend. Special withdrawals can be made under certain circumstances, like medical debt or education. We have all the parameters." After a moment, she looks between them with curiosity. "If you're planning on being married soon, I can certainly draw up a prenuptial agreement between you, if you like. I would be happy to help."

You look like a startle doe, eyes wide as you stare at her, but Zach quickly nods. “Yes.” He tells her firmly. “Everything she inherits from her grandmother along with anything bought from money her grandmother left her, remains hers.” He insists, squeezing your hand gently so you don’t protest.

"I don't..." You swallow hard and look over at Zach in surprise. "I don't foresee any circumstance where we would ever get divorced, babe. Isn't a prenup just for...super wealthy people who get married on a whim?"

“It can also be used to shelter one from lawsuits that could affect marital assets.” Miss Flores murmurs and Zach shakes his head. “I know that you don’t see that happening, and I know I don’t want to ever leave your side.” He sighs softly. “I just don’t want there to ever be any question of if I am with you for the right reasons.”

It's a hell of a lot to take in, but when you sort through all the details and the deciding factors, and everything in between, the thing that sticks out is just you and Zach. Forever. And that is a thing you know that you want beyond a shadow of a doubt. "And..if we're never going to get divorced or anything..." You look between the two other people at the table again. "It shouldn't really matter that we ever did one, right? It's just paperwork that we signed and filed away. It shouldn't matter unless something awful happens?"

“I just—” Zach takes both of your hands in his. “I want to make sure that you and everything that you have worked so hard for, everything that your grandmother has worked so hard for, it preserved. For you, for our kids down the line, from everything we could possibly foresee. And everything we can’t.” He sighs. “And I don’t want your parents to ever, for a second, have anything to use against me.”

Your fingers thread together, holding onto him tightly and exhaling longer and deeper than you usually would. “I’m upset about the fact that you’re right,” you admit quietly. “They might try. And I hate that. So…” You nod and lean in to press your forehead to his. “Yeah. We’ll do a prenup. There’s nothing wrong with being safe and protected.”

He knows that you don’t want to, but eventually, they will find out about the fact that he had been homeless. That he had pulled himself up with the generous help of friends doesn’t matter, he would be a gold digger. This would stop that conversation quickly. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, leaning down and kissing your knuckles.

“But…” A gentle nudge in the right direction seems okay, all things considered. “Now that means you’re gonna have to propose.”

“I know.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve been dragging my feet by soulmate standards.”

“I’ll give you two a few minutes.” Miss Flores had considered it pertinent to be present for the decision of whether or not the paperwork would be necessary. Now that the answer is yes, she excuses herself to her office to begin the drawing-up process. “I’ll return soon.”

“Do you want me to do it now?” Zach asks seriously, frowning at the unromantic nature of proposing in a lawyer’s office. But he would if that’s what you want.

“I want you to ask when you want to.” With a bit of privacy, you shift closer to him in your chair and practically sigh when he puts his arms around you. “I would also be okay if you had never asked and we just stayed together as partners. What do they call that? Common law?” That makes you shrug. “If I’m getting all of Gram’s things…she had some really beautiful rings. And I wanted to wear her dress anyway. We could just…skip the fuss and ask the captain to do it when we get back to the ship?”

“I want you to have a ring.” Zach frowns, shaking his head. “I can afford that at least.”

“Compromise?” You know Zach can be stubborn about his earnings and purchases, and that it comes from a very complicated place, so you hold both of his hands and offer him a smile. “We’ll look through Gram’s jewelry and we’ll go to some of the jewelry shops in town. You decide from those options, if you want to use an heirloom or buy something new. Is that okay? Because I only care that it comes from you.”

“That sounds good.” He agrees, but if it comes down to it, he will buy a ring from you to give as an engagement ring.

“So…we’re getting married, then?” The note of happiness in your voice is muddied with the grief you’ve been feeling and comes out sounding like disbelief.

“Baby…from the second I found out you wore my marks, I’ve thought about marrying you.” He promises softly. “I have saving been every dime I could to buy you a ring.”

“I love you so much.” A quiet promise in a quiet room, with your arms around each other and your heads bowed together. It’s a promise for the future, one that you will happily tie up with his to see what beautiful things will grow.

“I love you too.” He promises. “You know that’s why I want this prenup, right? Not because I’m afraid things won’t work out. I know they are. You’re it for me.”

“I do understand,” you promise him. “I just always think of those things as being for rich people who get married on a whim. You’re being practical, though, and I appreciate that.”

“I love you.” He hums. “Not your money or your property, what you can do for me – you.” He kisses your lips. “And honestly? It sounds like you are now a rich woman.”

“Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves.” Nothing about your Gram or the way she lived said rich, but at least it does enough to break the simmering seriousness in the room when you laugh a little.

“Richer than we are.” He smirks at you. “And she’s given you a wonderful gift.”

“That club is for both of us.” You squeeze him gently, but the look in your eyes is proud. “That’s our very own business. Your own kitchen to run just as you please and cook what you love.”

“I want to contribute to it. To build it with you.” He promises. “Of course I want that. I want to build a life with you. One I couldn’t even imagine a few years ago.”

“We will.” For you, that is a resounding promise. That you’ll do things together. Be a team. And build your future from the ground up.

******

Settling the estate and having things turned over to you isn’t like snapping your fingers. It still has to be signed off by the judge in probate court, but Miss Flores had assured you that it would go quickly. The judge was already aware of your grandmother’s wishes. However, you leave the office with the new keys to her home after signing enough papers to make your hand numb while Zach supported you.

“We’ll have a fair amount of cleaning to do.” With the key in the lock, you open the front door of your grandmother’s house and wish yet again that you were just coming over for lunch instead. “We’ll have to come back and do a full clean out and packing…I guess after the cruise is over?”

“Whenever you want to do it.” Zach promises. “We can go at any pace you want with this.”

“I’d like to not do it at all.” You can recognize that. That you wish hand the house straight back to your grandmother , but it too late now.

“I know babe.” He reaches out and holds your shoulder. “We don’t have to do this right now. We can wait.”

"No, it's okay." If you're honest with yourself, it's a way to feel like she's still here. To spend time in her house and with her things. Even if they legally belong to you now, they're all still hers. "I want to be able to share these memories with you. It helps to miss her less."

“Then I want to hear everything.” He promises as he steps inside with you. “Every little story you want to tell me. Funny, sad, embarrassing, all of it.”

The two of you end up upstairs first, wading through the easier-to-take-account-of items in your grandmother's guest room. There are only a few things there besides furniture, but you discover very quickly that she had used the spare closet as a place to hang her old dresses and boxes of jewelry and shoes — even handbags — that she had not used in some time.

“Wow.” Even though he knows less than zero about fashion, he can tell that you are fascinated by the closets. “Did you used to wear these dresses playing when you were little?”

"I was never allowed to touch these." Each properly stored and preserved in its own dress bag with protective tissue, you're as careful with these dresses as you would be if someone had just handed you a gun. "My grandparents used to go on date nights every single week for their entire marriage, and Granddad loved to dance. She told me stories about him bringing her to all kinds of dances and supper clubs and parties. These were her date clothes."

Zach is in awe, wondering what kind of life – fun that had been. It must have been amazing. Their connection strong and true. It makes him wonder how your mother could be so indifferent to soulmates after witnessing the love that must have been present between your grandparents. “You should wear them.” He decides suddenly.

"Where?" Your eyebrows raise in question when you tilt your head to look at him. "The ship? I don't know if the salt air would be good for them...I tried not to bring anything precious on board just in case."

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, knowing you would be devastated if something were to happen to the dresses. “When – if – we make the idea of a club on land a reality.” He explains. With your grandmother’s planning and generous gift, it was closer to a reality than the daydreaming you had done together when lying in bed on the ship.

"When." You feel as certain of that as you do of him. Of how much you love him and how much of a future you know is in front of you. "It will be when, baby, and we're going to make it exactly what we dreamed of."

“It would be fitting.” He reaches out and picks a dress off the bar to show you the sleek, knee-length cocktail dress in a beautifully vibrant red. “A tribute to her.”

A soft smile pulls at your lips, and you lean into his side as easily as the sun rises. "That's a deal," you decide with a smile. It's nice to smile again and not feel guilty about it. You still ache, but at least it doesn't pull you in two different directions now. "Gram's dresses are a gorgeous tribute to her. It's...well, I always did say I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. This seems like a sweet way to do it."

Zach respectfully puts the dress back very carefully. Grinning because he thinks you will appreciate wearing your grandmother’s dresses.

"I have to remind myself this isn't invading her privacy." You've taken a few boxes down from the shelf toward the top of the closet, and found two of them to be jewelry boxes. One is full of lose photos and mementos. The rest are shoes, handbags, and gloves.

“Do you want me to go make you some tea?” He asks softly, wondering if a few moments alone might be needed. He could also start going through the kitchen supplies to see what could be donated or given away. Something to be helpful.

As always, Zach seems to know exactly what you need even before you do, and you nod gratefully. “You’re a life saver. I’m so damn grateful you’re here, baby.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He promises, giving you a soft smile before he turns and walks carefully out of the bedroom to give you some time with your memories.

It’s not easy. You knew it wouldn’t be. Which is why you sit down at the vanity in the guest room with the box of photos to have a good cry once Zach goes back downstairs. This entire ordeal is overwhelming but at least you have him to support you.

Him, and whoever is behind the ding of your cell phone.

Downstairs, Zach finds the kitchen easily enough. The space is clean and neat, something that he has to appreciate. Not like some of the older generation who hoarded useless things, the counters are clear and he quickly finds the electric tea kettle and dumps out the old water to wash and refill it.

Teacups are lined neatly beside drinking glasses in the cupboards — your grandmother apparently liked sets of things because every dish and glass matches its fellows. Just a simple white with a bold blue stripe, faded with age and a bit cracked in the glaze to show how well used they were. Even the tea is easy to find: a cylinder marked Tea sits beside Coffee on the countertop and smells distinctly of chamomile when he opens the lid. That will be a good choice, completely by accident. Soothing, he thinks, plucking out one papery bag.

Honey is quickly found, and some lemon juice that would take the place of not having any creamer. He opens the fridge and notices that there is a box of leftovers, a stark reminder that this was sudden. A life changed and interrupted before she had planned.

When he comes upstairs again you’re sitting at the vanity with photos spread out around you and your phone in your hands, taking pictures of the pictures and sending them off again.

“Here you go.” Zach had found a small tray and there were some cookies in the panty that were in an open container, apparently one of your gram’s favorites.

“You’re amazing.” When you look up to offer him a smile, your eyes are red and damp again but at least there is a smile with him. “Shane texted to check on me so I’m sending him photos.” When he comes closer you can see the cookies on the tray and even though your chin wobbles a little, the smile stays. “Her favorites,” you murmur, motioning to the cookies. The little jam-filled ones with powdered sugar on top. “I can never, ever remember what they’re called. They’re just Gram’s cookies to me.”

“I thought you would like some.” He sets the tray down on the little dresser next to the bed and sits down beside you, his hand automatically moving to your back. “Shane texted? That’s good. I know he was worried about you.”

“He’s a worry wart. It’s nice to hear from him, though.” You turn your phone to show Zach the texts and pick up the tea — fragrant chamomile, honey, and lemon. It smells like heaven. “He promises they haven’t b destroyed the club while we’ve been away. The guys are enjoying their shore leave.”

“I’m sure they are.” Zach snorts. The rest of the guys are probably out partying, but he knows Shane will be spending every second he can with his soulmate. “How’s Diana?”

“She desperately needed the vacation.” In all the commotion over going home for the funeral, you had missed seeing Diana when she flew out to spend some time in Italy with Shane while the boat was being worked on, and the crew had some leave. “I’m sorry to miss her, and I’m sorry you have to wait to meet her.”

“That’s okay.” Being with you was more important. “We have plenty of time for that.”

His meaning is clear, making your heart clench with gratitude all over again. “I love you, too.”

He loves how you know what he means, even when he’s not specifically saying it. “You should digitize the photos.” He peers over your shoulder at the memories that have been printed out.

“I was thinking about it,” you admit. “Share copies with my parents, and my aunt and cousin. I don’t want to be greedy about this stuff, ya know? Just because she left it to me doesn’t mean I’m going to hoard it.”

“And if, god forbid, something happens, you have other copies so everything isn’t lost.” He frowns slightly, remembering all the memories that are just fading away over time due to his own circumstances.

"That's why I've made backups of all of our photos." Leaning over, you press a kiss to his cheek and then sit back to sip your tea again. "Our phones, my external hard drive, and the cloud. Nothing is going to happen to our memories, babe."

“We have a lot of them.” He smiles. “Even though it hasn’t been a long time, really.” It feels like it has, but it’s not. He just feels safe for the first time in forever.

"One day my Zach box will be just as full as this one is." You promise him. The box full of your grandmother's miscellaneous memories seems to be tied together by two recurring friends in the photos. Just like you have a box full of keepsakes and memories involving Zach, your Gram had a memory box for her best friends.

“You’ll have more than just me.” He promises. “The guys, hey!” He lights up. “You think they would want to move back to land? Come with you when you decide to launch the club?” He asks. “They work so well with you.”

"I honestly can't picture doing it with any other band." The thought had never even occurred to you. In your mind, it was always you and your boys on the stage with Zach's food being served. Shane, Keo, Rick, and Cliff are a package deal that you would hate to be without.

“I thought you might feel that way.” He leans in to press his lips to your forehead. “Want me to give you a bit of space again?” He asks softly, “I’ve gotten rid of anything spoiled, but I was thinking about boxing up the foods to donate? What do you think?”

"I think that sounds like a smart idea, but not because I want to be apart from you." For your part, you kiss his cheek like he does your forehead. Soothing measures of comfort for both of you. "I was just thinking that this place doesn't deserve to be all boxed up, but at the same time? It'll be such a great home for another family one day."

“Perhaps you keep it, have a place to visit when you come to see your parents?” He offers, shrugging slightly.

"Maybe we just don't decide right now?" It's the deciding that seems so daunting. Trying to being responsible and adult and make all of the right choices all at the same time.

That’s the smartest thing right now, making Zach nod. “Miss Flores could look out for things.” He hums softly, remembering the offer.

"That would probably be good. It's not like we could get every little thing squared away in two days anyway." The flight on Sunday can't be put off, you've got to get back to your jobs on the ship. "We've got another month on board and then our contracts are up. Maybe by then we'll have a better idea of how things are going to shake out?"

“Yeah baby…” he reaches out and caresses your back. “And if you need to not renew and I need to, just— let me know.” He tells you. “I can keep working and save up if you need to take care of things here.”

The possibility of having to be long distance for months at a time while he works on the ship and you figure things out here sounds terrible, but you can't deny that it is a possibility. It's just not one you're willing to give too much thought to right now when it makes your chest ache. "We'll figure it out," you promise him. "We'll make it work."

“I know.” He smiles softly at you and sighs. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Just yell, okay?” He wants to give you the space you need while being nearby for support.

"I'm not going to yell, babe." You give his hand a squeeze and leave a kiss on his lips before he goes back downstairs, thanking him again for the tray. It is a little easier to go through things and pick through the memories. While you sip your tea you wade through another set of photos and eventually make your way around to the jewelry boxes. Your grandmother had great taste, and to see these pieces again is a rare way to unlock those memories from your childhood when you would be over at her house at the same time she was getting ready for dinners or events or even just going to out to do the shopping.

Downstairs, Zach quickly finds a box to start loading up the non-perishable goods in. Knowing that you wouldn’t have a single objection to him finding a local shelter or food bank to donate them to. Going out into the garage to find a cooler for the items in the freezer and fridge is next, but before he can start that, you are coming down the stairs.

“There’s…um, this is for you.” In your hand is a small-ish package that you found tucked inside your grandmother’s second —larger — jewelry box. It’s tied up in brown paper and string and addressed to Zach via the ship company at the next port city. She had meant to mail it to him, very obviously, but things hadn’t turned out that way.

“For me?” He’s incredibly confused, frowning as he sets the cooker down and takes it from you. “How would she- I mean, why?” He asks you, hoping maybe you had a conversation with your grandmother that could shed some light on this.

"I told her all about you." Is all you can think to say, just as bewildered as he is. "I mean...not all but...about us. About how we met and our date in Crete and..." A softness overtakes your face and you come stand with him at the counter. "She was the first person that I told how much I love you. About...maybe four or five days before I even told you."

“Oh.” Zach seems to melt softly at that confession, a smile curving his lips as he imagines you on the phone with your grandmother gushing about him. “Okay. Why don’t we open it together?” He offers.

“If you want to.” You nod and lean into his side as he carefully unties the twine holding the package together.

There’s a small box inside the paper, making him tilt his head in confusion. Also a square folded up piece of paper underneath it. “Interesting.”

"Note or box first?" You have no idea what your Gram might have been sending to Zach, but considering it was in her jewelry box your best guess is that maybe she felt it right to send him something of your grandfather's. A tie pin, perhaps, or cuff links?

“You choose.” Zach decides, pushing the towards you. “She was your grandmother. And I would do this same thing if she had mailed it to me.”

"Letter first," you decide after a few seconds of staring at both options. "Context seems important."

“Okay.” He pulls the paper up and slowly unfolds it. Your grandmother had amazingly artistic handwriting, the cursive looking like something he would have imagined being written with a quill.

My Darling Zach,

“Darling?” He raises a brow in surprise. And clears his throat to read it aloud. “My darling Zach, I feel like I can call you this since one day soon you will be a member of my family. I know this from the way my granddaughter talks about you. Like you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky.” Zach pauses and smiles at you softly.

"I may have gushed," you admit shamelessly.

“Really?” He winks at you and looks back down at the letter.

“That being said, I have a favor to ask of you, if you would be so kind. In this box, I have several rings that my granddaughter loved to look at when she was a little girl. Always begging me to let her wear them when she played dress up. Consider one of them for her as an engagement ring? It would make an old woman very happy to see the jewelry on her hand that she has so admired as a little girl. Especially when they were also my favorite pieces my own beloved soulmate gifted me with. They are yours to keep, Zach. My gift to you. Give them to her as Christmas or birthday gifts later on if you decide not to use them to propose. I don’t want to hear any argument, young man.”

Zach swallows and looks up at you. “And she signed it, ‘Love, Gram’.” He whispers.

There are tears in both of your eyes, a few drops on your cheeks. It's such a sweet, loving gesture and so exactly like your grandmother to be thinking ahead like this. "Well," you laugh weepily, wiping his cheeks and then your own. "You heard the lady. They're yours now."

“I can’t keep these.” Zach protests, although he’s reaching for the box to open it up. There’s enough room for four ring sets in the little box, but there are only three in use. “Holy…”

"Oh, my..." Trailing off to a sigh, you tear up all over again seeing the jewels shimmering in their little box. They look shiny enough that she must have gone and had them cleaned before boxing them up to send to Zach. "How did she remember...?"

“What do you mean?” There’s a story or stories here behind these rings and he wants to know them. To learn about them, learn more about you.

"I really did used to beg to dress up with these." They are three very different rings, but all equally beautiful in their own right. A yellow gold band is flattened for one, with tiny diamond chips arranged like a sunrise. One is white gold with an array of blue and white sapphires like an Art Deco explosion. And the third is a beautiful opal set in yellow gold with small diamonds all around for embellishment. The opal has a matching band, though you don't remember ever seeing that before. "She actually let me wear the little golden sunrise with my prom dress when I was a senior. The sapphire one...she said that was an birthday gift from my grandpa when she turned forty. And the opal was an anniversary gift."

“She—” Zach is at a complete loss for words, unable to believe that your grandmother would be so generous to a man she has never met. “I don’t know what to say.” He admits quietly, moisture gathering in his eyes. She had accepted him without hesitation, just based on what you had told her.

"She...knew." You tell him quietly, deciding that it's important Zach understand just how thoroughly your grandmother had accepted him. "About what happened to you and your unit. And afterward." When Zach's eyes widen in disbelief, you nod. "She thought it showed your strength of character to come out on the other end of all of it as a good man. I fully agree."

He’s not mad that you shared that with her. Not when she was your confidant growing up. More of a parent than a grandparent when it came to emotional support. “Do you-“ he clears his throat when his voice cracks. “Do you like the idea?” He asks seriously, nodding to the rings.

"Me? I love the idea." Something that ties your past, present, and future together sounds perfect to you and you absolutely won't deny that. "But I don't want to hear a word about paying for them. She gave them to you. They're yours now."

“But—” It goes against everything in him to stop talking, to not protest it, but you literally put your hand over his mouth. Looking into his eyes and silently asking him to please just accept this. Until he gives in, slumping slightly as he relaxes and nods.

"I love you." you remind him gently, moving your hand so that you can kiss him instead. "And she is reaching out to you with her arms wide open, too."

“I love you too.” That will never be a question in his mind. He loves you completely. “Okay. So…” he takes a deep breath. “First impression?” He asks and points to the opal set.

"I want you to pick." That is also important to you, you realize immediately. Although he has zeroed in on the most practical choice. The beautiful opal ring already has a matching band.

“What do you think?” He asks, hoping it would have been your choice. “I like that it has a matching band, but I could also see another ring on the other side.”

"I like that it's pretty but not the most flashy thing in the world," you admit, looking down at the three choices with him. "The sapphires are gorgeous but I think that's more like a cocktail ring. It's big and blingy and I know we would both be more comfortable not being that flashy every single day."

“I wonder if she knew that we would gravitate towards this one?” He muses as he picks up the rings out of the box and examines them more closely.

"Maybe." She was astute, after all. And was always thinking ahead. "I...also like that it's your birthstone." It's just a silly little extra, but it's sweet. Zach's October birthday might never result in gems for gifts for him, but apparently it might for you.

“It is, isn’t it?” He’s surprised to realize that, it’s not something that he’s really thought about in a long time. Normally his birthday has been a lonely day, or recently, working his ass off.

"Yes, it is." He brightens a little and you know instantly that it's the right choice to make. "Does that mean we've picked out my engagement ring?"

“I think so.” Zach hums before he frowns at you. “Although we are missing one key element to all of this.”

"And what would that be?"

He reaches for your hand. “Shouldn’t we find out if it fits?” He asks softly, smiling at you as he shifts out of his seat to kneel down on the tile floor of your grandmother’s kitchen.

Somehow, you didn't expect him to make the thing so official. So formal. So...traditional. The gesture has your breath sticking in your throat and your chest aching, realizing with one unsteady beat of your heart how so many of your happiest memories have happened in this house. It feels only right that this moment should join them.

“I don’t know why, but I feel like she would want this to happen here.” Zach tells you with a grin before he says your full name. “I have been overwhelmed by you from the moment I saw you. I fell in love with you before I ever knew that you were my soulmate. And after finding that out?” He chuckles. “It has only made me wonder how I got so lucky.”

"I'm the lucky one." You're sure of that. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. But the way you both cling to each other's hand makes it clear that you could go back and forth on that question all night. Maybe that makes you even luckier.

He squeezes your hand and licks his lips. “Then I have a simple question for you.” He teases. “Will you marry me? I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and showing you that love every day.”

"I would marry you right this second." It isn't a surprise. It doesn't need to be. All it needs to be is a beautiful promise, and that is exactly what he is offering you. "I have half a mind to hop in the rental car and make for the Soulmate Chapel in Windrixville."

“If you wanted to, I would.” Zach promises you, moving to slip the larger opal ring on your finger.

The ring fits perfectly, making it feel like the choice was meant to be, and you tug Zach up on his feet to share in a breathless kiss. "Why not?" You can't believe you're saying it, but just like every other important decision you've ever made with or about Zach — it feels undeniably right. "We already signed the prenup. I just won't change my name until after all the inheritance paperwork is finished being approved by the judge."

“Where’s your grandmother’s wedding dress?” Zach asks boldly, grinning at the idea of being impulsive and a little crazy. It’s not like other people don’t get married the day they find out they are soulmates. It’s why chapels like that exist.

"It's in the guest room closet." In amongst the other dresses and baubles and memories was the box with your grandmother's preserved wedding dress that had been diligently cared for over the decades. The fact that Zach is even contemplating agreeing to such a whirlwind, romantic idea is just a testament to the bond you share. "I bet..." Holding onto him, a watery smile spreads across your face like wildfire. "I bet some of grandpa's suits are up there, too. I know she kept a few."

“Do you think I would fit it?” It seems far fetched, but fitting. You both wearing the clothes of your grandparents as you jump into your future. One that she had a hand in pushing forward. She had encouraged you to take the cruise contract in the first place.

"I don't know." You have no sense of proportion for a man you never met, but you like the odds of trying. "Do you want to go find out?"

He looks at the ring that fits perfectly before looking up into your eyes. “Why don’t we?” He asks softly.

"Come on." Instantly, your hand is fully in his and you're sniffling back the happy tears with a grin. "There's only one way to know."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[thechaoticcheese]

Cause I'm hacking up half a lung, have some head cannons on some COD folk and workouts-

Ghost

He loves lifting weights. Can't get enough of it. If he's working out, he's using every damn weight lifting machine available. He seems to dread cardio. Always having this look of tearing apart the treadmill or digging up the track, but he does it begrudgingly. He's silent about his distaste, knowing he has to keep fit for his position. Will silently complain and curse under his breath when no one is around.

Soap

Like Ghost, fucking loves the weights. You can often find the two spotting each other in the gym or workout room on base. However, Soap needs to be DRAGGED to participate in cardio. He doesn't care if he needs to stay in shape. He complains the entire time and everyone has started to just mute his voice out. He's gotten louder about complaining.

Gaz

He says that he doesn't have a preference, but he does enjoy running more. The only thing he enjoys more than running? Swimming. Though he won't tell you that, especially since some places don't have a pool. He'll go with the training, but he doesn't push himself as much on the weights as others and he's ok with that. As long as he can hang with his buds, he's happy.

Price

He fucking loves to run. He partly relieves stress whenever he runs, but if he can't, he smokes, bad combo I know and so does he, but he doesn't care. It hurts his lungs after a good run, but he could care less. Weights are definitely not his favorite, but he needs to keep up with his men, and Nikolai. You can sometimes hear him cursing under his breath and giving himself soft encouragement whenever he does set.

Price and Gaz love jogging together. Gaz never pokes fun at him until after the two are done, they usually just talk casually here and there.

Nikolai

Does not at all have a favorite. He loves working his body at any moment, but it's nothing ever heavy. It's the repetitive motions that give him enjoyment and often makes him remember working on some sort of stubborn piece of his helicopter. What's worse is that he's always just been kinda strong. He never really has to do anything to keep his body the way it is due to his job. Though he does really like working out with Price, even if it is just to see how red in the face his favorite Brit can get.

Laswell

Cardio. Nothing else. Or at least that's what she'd like to do. Since being entangled in 141, the guys have gotten her to start lifting, even just a little. They're not surprised that she does have muscle, but she hates weight lifting. She scowls the whole way through it, only for it to be worth it when her wife compliments how hard Laswell's been working on her form at home.

Graves

Fucking loves it. Cardio, weights, stretching. All. Of. It. He's that fit person in the group that is genuine in offering workout advice, but accidentally ends up pissing people off due to it. He's always at his A game with exercise and will always help people out.

Shepherd

No. Look at him. What exercise? He likes sitting in hot tubs after a 5 minute walk.

Alejandro

Loves to run as well. He is always striving to do better and swears one day he could beat Usain Bolt in a race. He cannot. He does have real good athleticism, but it just won't happen. He also likes weights. He just likes pushing his body, the slight pain from it afterwards always makes him excited for the next workout. Rudy often has to keep tabs on Ale to make sure he's not over doing it.

Rodolfo

Rudy is meh about exercise. He does it to stay fit and in Los Vaqueros. That and for Ale. Mainly because he finds the dude hot whenever he's pushing himself, baring his teeth as he tries to beat his previous record, but to also make sure he's not over doing it. Rudy lies and says he likes exercise, but only insists on doing it with Ale for the previous reasons.

Roach

Is dragged to it every time. No matter what. He does like it once he gets started, it's the getting started part that's hard. The idea of exercise sounds more taxing than it is, but always feels better afterwards.

[felicore]

Gonna have a mini rant here again

This is on tiktok so not directed at anyone here! Dw.. I love my tumblr audience sm ur so sweet

Im starting to get super irritated at the nerds in my tiktok comment section yapping about Amanda not fitting the breed standard for Doberman when THATS THE POINT! That’s the point of Dobermandy’s design.

When I say breed standard I don’t mean her literal breeding. In my au both of her parents are purebred doberman, I’m solely talking about ppl bringing up cropping and docking standards in my comments. I try to keep her appearance itself very close to how Doberman actually look while still retaining shawnees features!

With Amanda, she was fully natural before she met John, before her trap. It was only after the fact that John cropped her ears when initiating her. But he did a BAD JOB. John isn’t a medical professional I’m sorry. He cut her ears without anaesthetic and with scissors, her ability to endure this pain proves her loyalty to him.

She doesn’t have a docked tail because simply; it limits her emotion. Much like when a dog is docked in the real world, it’s harder to read emotion from her tail if it is only a nub; also. Everyone loves her cute wagging tail. That’s the point of it being there.

The thing with Dobermandy is that her tail shows her emotion clearly at all times, Hoffman has a problem with that because he hates joy and whimsy. Lawrence in comparison has a short tail and he can control it better, but since Amanda is already really unstable she is incapable of it and her tail will always tell you what she’s really feeling.

Anyway rant over

[iwannascreameurekaa]

pjo characters favorite Chappell roan looks part 1

guess who found this stupid list again I keep forgetting I do these things. spoiler warning this is ooc and very bad. I did most of this at 3-5 am so get ready for sleep deprived writing. part 2

Leo's is 100% this look from the 2024 VMAs. You tell me he wouldn't absolutely adore the edits of her saying "not me bitch" he would actually say "zoo wee mama" unironically okay

Percy's is this from the album cover for the rise and fall of a Midwest princess photo shoot both because of how it has an intense feeling of being out a place and because it's BLUE! Also he likes the lighting of the photo

Pipers is the marching band outfit from the hot to go music video

Jason fav is the butterfly look from Coachella 2024 

Hazel is absolutely obsessed with the tiny desk concert look and I agree because OH MY GODS. Hazel loves the layering of the hair, and that there's a trash bag in Chappells hair. Her favorite part about the whole outfit is the socks but the little butterfly clip in Chappells hair is so cute to Hazel. 

Annabeths favorite is the Statue of Liberty look from the governors ball yes it might be because she's an architecture nerd but also she's a bi disaster mkay

Franks is the white swan look from Jimmy Fallon. He will scream the bridge to good luck babe even tho he's a man and he will BLAST THAT SHIT TOO. 

Grover's fav look is when she was on the comment section podcast. It's whimsical and cute and he adores it. Also he supports Chappell roan 100% on the boundaries she set bc SHE IS A PERSON BE NICE YALL ☹️ he's a Chappell defender for life 

Drews favorite is the casual mv dress (whoa sapphic drew anyone???) let's just say she had a "situationship" thing and now I wanna write angst anyways FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNERRR

Katie loves the giver outfit. The plaid is something that Katie can't NOT love okay. The curls and whole country vibe really get her 

Lit loved the taxi dress. he recognizes cunt when he sees it and he cracks up at the green paint 

Nyssa loves the snl look but specifically with the hat the hats important okay. I think a kid of Hephaestus would really like this outfit bc of the rope things and um idk how to describe it you know what I mean tho okay 

Blitz absolutely adore the pink pony club outfit from chappells performance on snl. The seamless white dress that sparkles and looks like literal heaven is something that can't be hated by someone who loves fashion as much as blitz does. He loves the stripe of white in chappells wig and the bow on the side of her waist. Really the whole outfit is incredibly and he will not hesitate to tell you 

Georgie likes this look from either one of chappells tours or from when she opened for Olivia Rodrigo I cant remember but she loves the tassels (?) and the shininess and everything about it. This is the outfit an 8 year old would adore

Alabasters fav is this magician look from a photo shoot that I can't the remember the name of. Maybe a little cliche but shush

Ethan's favorite is this incredibly look that I have no idea what to call or where it's from. All I know is that Chappell is serving all sorts of things and Ethan agrees with me okay I'm literally Rick himself 

Shels favorite is the snl look but without the hat. She likes the waist pieces she says they look like butterflies and she really likes the slick back look of her hair and then the curls messy in the back. It's a vibe. 

Sams favorite is the look Chappell had on Sabrina carpenters Christmas special A Nonsense Christmas. There's two pics because I absolutely adore this look. She's so elegant wtf.

Lavinias favorite is the dress Chappell had on when she was invited to perform with Olivias Rodrigo at one of her concerts. It's pink it's flowery it's sparkly, what more could you ask for? 

Cecil would've tried to recreate this makeup look and he would've failed miserably. The tights really pull this outfit together. The neck ruffle, the flowers in her hair. Cecil loves everything about it.  

Calypsos favorite look is the Marie ann look with the wig because a) it absolutely eats and even this 6000 year old girl can recognize an icon and b) calypsos a sucker for the flower embroidery on the front 

Gwen would've loved this like I don't know anything about her but she feels like the kinda gal to be obsessed with marriage culture and not in a "I wanna get married and have a big beautiful wedding" way I mean a "I know every aspect of this, good and bad, and am willing to be the backbone of the failing society" way 

Rip Lou Ellen you would've loved kaleidoscope. Rick can you give Lou a book and then make her a tragic lesbian I would love that please and thank you. Also the freaking star clips in this outfit are fiahkajda. Btw this is chappells kaleidoscope outfit and yes it's lous fav and it's beautiful. 

paolos fav is the angel look. Basic? maybe. but stunning? yes

Zoes fav is this blue cowboy look. It's shiny and she likes the color blue. Also the sparkles kinda look like stars... whoa who said that whattt

Bianca's fav is this wonderful look that is glitching and the backgrounds gone my phone is about to explode I apologize. The detail on this is insane. The tassels hanging from every end, the points and curves that really give it that alternative and crazy look. Rip Bianca you wouldve loved the subway.  

Dionysus but Mr D specifically. He's a queer icon and he loves the other queer icons as well. This outfit from the guts would tour film premiere is his favorite  because of many reason. First is the red mesh the entire dress is made off. Chappells whole red aesthetic really does remind me of red wine and shit and also I'm just grasping for ways to connect this to Mr d so bear with me. Also the flowers on the dress are so freaking pretty usgajfjwhwh love those. The black boots contrast great with the rest of the outfit and I know Mr d would like that detail. Also the fact that her tits are almost out. yes Dionysus wouldve love you yes Chappell get it girl I love you

Luke's favorite is this look. I don't know where it's from but I think this reminds Luke of his mom. Maybe his mom liked animal print idk I just like this outfit

Junipers fav is this one and I also don't know where it's from. It's a simpler outfit than others but it's so adorable and juniper would love chappells aesthetic okay like juniper would be the biggest fan of California I just KNOW

and that's all I have. of course there's so many more looks and characters so if I missed anyone or a look you like feel free to request it I am bored out of my mind rn

part 2

[froggerland]

For the cold boys ask please tell me how you feel about Ned Little ❤️❤️❤️ Thank You!

THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!

I am so normal about him you can't imagine how normal I am about that man.

Anyways:

First Impression: I think almost everyone has the same experience with this one: when you first watch the show you don't really register him for the first five episodes or so and then you either love him or are very much neutral about him. I vaguely remember the scene where he's standing next to Jopson looking like a kicked dog while Crozier yells at him and I think that's when I took note of him like "ohh poor boy let me give you a hug :(" I really fell for him in the second half of the season (first mainly bc hes pretty. Im a simple woman sometimes and im not afraid to admit it) and I cannot stress this enough how much the last scene where Crozier finds him half frozen with the chains on his face has altered my brain chemistry. That was the fr the point where I was like "okay so I'll never be normal again EVER huh"

Impression Now: I love him. I love him so so much on so many layers. For one I need him biblically bc I believe I can fix his ass and his sad energy and big cow eyes have bewitched me body and soul. Matthew McNulty was born to sport mutton chops and look increasingly disheveled while on a death march in the canadian arctic. But I can't put into words how much I relate to him. I am him, he is me. Genuinely if I was put on that stupid expedition in his place I would've made all the same (bad) decisions. I can literally name two other characters in media I relate to and those are Kat from Euphoria (only the first season version and I think if I watched the show now I would throw her off this list) and Connel from Normal People (him just,, big time). They just don't make characters that messy, pathetic and sad very often!! Or I'm not watching enough tv to find them but when I saw Ned throughout the season I was like "wow I relate to him so much and idk what that says about me". I feel like I went on a tangent there but I love him he is such a dear. He tried so so hard to do right and keep things under control bc he hates chaos but he was just so overwhelmed and had to deal with Croziers shit for way too long (I'm trying to sound smart rn bc people have very nuanced but sometimes also kinda weird takes on his character. Believe me I see him as more than sad wet puppy man but I don't have the words in the english language to express that)

Favorite Moment: Any scene he's in ever? Duh?? No but if I had to pick one I'd say the dundy intervention when he finally tries to put a foot down to rescue Crozier but they all just dismiss him. The way his eyes water. I. Mmh. I think I'm obligated to name his last scene as well bc that one makes me cry everytime even if I just see a gif of it, it's just so haunting and so so sad

Idea For A Story: Oh. Uhmmmmm. I'm really not a writer so I can't come up with anything cool on top of my head except let Ned be happy and comfy and warm. Tuck him into bed and give him soup. That's all

Unpopular Opinion: I can't really tell what's an unpopular opinion bc I've seen basically every take ever on him from "he is a pushover how did he even get his job" to "he's actually a meanie with big time anger issues" so. Maybe that I think he would've been a good lieutenant with a different captain on a more chill cruise. He'd do very well keeping order and the respect of the crew if he didn't have to be the doormat and errands boy for his alcoholic captain while starving in the arctic. I'd dare say 99.9% of life on a ship was more chill than the franklin expedition so maybe he wasn't the best lieutenant ever but he would've done a good job if the stakes weren't THAT high

Favorite Relationship: Started as a Joplittle stan, became a Sojoplittle truther and now my favorite is Solittle. I love my two dog boys, I love how they parallel each other (they were narrative foils your honor). But honestly anything goes, everyone deserves a bite out of nedward <3

Favorite Headcanon: That animals love him. Saw that on my feed a few days ago and yeah, agreed. He's definitely a cat person and they just flock towards him (extended hc that jirv loves animals so so much but they just hate him for some reason. So when the ships cat sneaks in during meetings jirv tries to get her to come towards him but the cat's like "ew no church boy" and jumps into Ned's lap who pets her but also prays he won't get yelled at by Crozier for this)

[fizzing-imagines]

Teenage Dirtbag Part 1 | Steve Harrington x Teen Mom! Reader (x Billy Hargrove)

Notes: I love drama atm, I hope you enjoy :) (Pls don't let this flop)

Warnings: Teenage Pregnancy, big hint as a sex scene, swearing, alcohol, smoking

Words: 4.2k

You hated yourself for this stupid crush. Finally, you had everything together between school, your child and your family life, and then this dumb crush came along. It wouldn't even be that bad if it wasn't on the Steve Harrington, the infamous King Steve who's hardcore-crushing on Nancy Wheeler. While you were happy enough that he even took you into his friend group, considered you were a 16 year old teen mom to a 3-year old, you truly didn't need to see him pin over her whenever she was around. Despite them not being an official couple anymore, he wouldn't stop looking after her like a feral dog.

"You don't happen to be free for that project tonight, do you?", Steve asked while walking next to you. You bit your lip while thinking if you could make it work while fishing your car keys out of your bag. "Maybe. My dad's at work, so he can't look after Prissy.", you told him. "I don't know if a two-year old around is the best homework environment." But Steve just shrugged. "I don't mind her around. Besides, I've been annoying you about meeting her for a while now." After unlocking your car door, you threw your school bag in the passenger seat. "Right. Well, if you come at 7:30 she'll be in bed and we have time to do our assignment. But she'll wake up in between at some point." He nodded at your words. "Alright, I'll see you then."

You drove straight home, where your daughter was already waiting at the door. "Hi, mommy!", she squealed as she jumped into your arms. "Hi, baby.", you replied before giving her a kiss on her cheek. "Did you have fun with paw-paw today?" She nodded her head while you carried her inside. "We were in garden, and we picked our tomatoes, and cucumbers, and carrots." Your father greeted you in the hallway with a kiss on your cheek. "We put them in the kitchen, you can use them for dinner later.", he told you. "How was school?" Prissy wiggled from your arms and ran off to the living room. "Good. We got a group project assigned today, so my partner is coming over when Prissy is in bed." Your father looked a bit concerned. "And they know about Prissy?"

"He's my friend, dad, they all know about Prissy. It's not like I could keep her a secret anyways, I'm out with her all the time." He simply smiled at your words and squeezed your shoulder. "I'm just worried, is all." He walked over to the fridge to grab his dinner for work. "Alright, I'm off. See you tomorrow, don't stay up to late." He kissed your cheek once again before walking into the living room to say goodbye to Prissy. "Bye pumpkin, don't cause too much trouble." Your daughter told him goodbye, you heard the door shut and then the tiny footsteps of Prissy running into the kitchen. "Mommy, can we play teaparty?"

You spend a good hour playing teaparty, princess castle and then house before it was time to make dinner. "What do you want, baby?", you asked your daughter while looking through the fridge. "I can make you veggie sticks from the cucumbers and carrots you picked with Paw-Paw. And some tomato soup, maybe?"

"I love tomato soup!", she exclaimed before trying to pull up a chair for her to stand on. For some odd reason, you got a child who loved fruits and veggies. Not that you'd complain, but it wasn't what you heard from other moms. You helped her to get the chair so she could watch you cook.

After dinner, you got your daughter ready for bed. Not only was she a veggie-lover, but also fell asleep quickly. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of her conception, she made it easy for you. At 7:30, she was already fast asleep when you saw Steve pull into your driveway. "Hey.", you said as you opened the door for him. "She's sleeping, so we can't be too loud. But I have some leftovers from dinner if you're hungry." Both of you went into the living room to do the assignments with some veggie sticks and cans of coke.

"God, I hate history.", Steve said as he sat down on your couch. You plopped down next to him while chuckling. "It's not that bad. I mean, the only thing you really have to do is memorise it."

"I know, that's what makes it so awful." Both of you laughed before opening your history books. "At least we can pick one, that's nice.", you mumbled while skipping through the pages. He did the same, but neither of you found a good topic this quickly. "Well, my dad has some books on saints. Maybe that would be an option. How about Joan D'Arc?", you said after a while. "Who's Joan D'Arc?", he asked with a confused look. His question was met with a questioning look. "She was a martyr and is the patron saint of France. Do you actually don't know who she is?"

"Why would I know about a french martyr?"

"Everyone knows Jean D'Arc, Steve."

"I don't."

You rolled your eyes before getting up and grabbing the books from the shelf in the living room. "Sometimes, I can't believe that you're real." You opened the first book from your father extensive collection to give him a quick rundown. He leaned in closer to you so he could properly read, but it made your heart beat faster. Why did you have to have this stupid crush? And why did he have to smell so good, too?

"I think I can work with that.", he finally said. You grabbed a pen and your notebook to start writing. Two hours into mostly working, with some occasional off-rail gossip, you heard tiny footsteps upstairs. "Mommy?", Prissy said from the top of the stairs. Before you could get up, she caught a glimpse of Steve and ran downstairs. "Who are you?", she asked him while crawling on your lap. Your crush looked at you, then back at Prissy before speaking up. "I'm Steve.", he replied awkwardly. "He's my friend from school.", you added. Your daughter crawled off your lap and closer to Steve. "Boyfriend from school?"

"No, just my friend.", you corrected, despite it pulling at your heartstrings in a bad way. "Baby, we're doing homework so I'll bring you back to bed. Say bye-bye to Steve." She waved at him before walking back upstairs with you. Luckily, it took barely 20 minutes before she was fast asleep again.

"She looks just like you.", Steve said as you sat back down. You smiled at his comment. "Thanks. She got the hair colour from her father, but everything else is my carbon copy." The next question was one you have heard many times before. Honestly, you were really annoyed by it at this point, so you just took it away. "Her father's not in the picture. He robbed a gas station and is in jail, so I have full custody. In case you wondered." Steve looked into your eyes with a concerned look, but he had to admit that he did wonder that. "I'm sorry. That's...unfortunate.", he replied. You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back with a can of coke in your hand. "She's surprisingly easy. Unless I don't feel well, then she just copies my feelings like some kind of mindreader." He laughed a bit and leaned back at well. This felt oddly natural to you, and although you didn't know he had the same feeling. "You know, I always wanted kids. Like, six little Harringtons." You laughed at that statement, until you realised that he was 100% serious. "I didn't think I'd ever meet someone as crazy as me.", you admitted. Prissy was a dream child, and the sole reason why you wanted many more kids. "Really?", Steve asked, a bit surprised. Nobody, not even Nancy, wanted so many kids. "Yeah, I mean, Prissy is honestly a poster child. Six, seven, I'll even take eight." Now Steve was the one laughing a bit. "You're actually insane, (Y/N).", he said while leaning foward to take his can of coke. "Oh, by the way, if you don't have any plans for Halloween with Prissy yet, do you maybe wanna go to a party with me?" He said it so casually that his wording confused you. Why with him, not with us? "Aren't you going with Nancy?", you asked, even though you really didn't want to hear anything about Nancy. "It's...I'm trying, but some stuff happened." You sighted at his words, partially because they weren't what you were hoping to hear. "So you'd rather go with a friend?" This time, he sighted. "A friend, a date, who really knows." Your cheeks went red at his comment. Was he really asking you out? "I'll, uh, I'll ask my dad and tell you tomorrow."

He went home soon after. The assignment was off the table at that point anyways, and your head was too full of Steve basically asking you out. You went to sleep, woke up the next morning with your daughter in bed (who always snuck in during the night) and got ready for school. "Prissy, do you want me to do your hair before I go?", you asked her while she was occupied with her stuffed dolphin. She quickly ran into the bathroom where you were putting on a bit of makeup. "Pigtails!", she said while getting on her stepstool. While you were doing her hair, your father walked into the bathroom with his grouchy morning face. "Mornin'", he mumbled while getting his toothbrush. "Good morning.", you greeted him while finishing the first pigtail. "Can I already ask you a question or are you too sleepy?" Prissy giggled at your question a bit, mostly because she knew her Paw-Paw well enough to know that it was a valid question. "If you make me a coffee. What's the question?"

"Since we always only hand out candy on Halloween, could I maybe go out with my friends so you and Prissy can have some Paw-Paw time?" Your wording was chosen carefully to not upset Prissy too much. She'd follow you anywhere if she could, even school, but she also enjoyed spending time with her grandpa. And your father understood your wording. He also understood that you were a teenager who deserved to go out once in a while. "That can be arranged, as long as you're home before I go to work the next day." A wide grin spread across your face once he agreed. "Thank you, dad.", you said while finishing Prissys hair.

You told Steve the very same day, and you were extra giddy once you got ready for the party. Since you got pregnant so young, there has never been a party you could've attended. Sure, you met up with friends once in a while, but it was never for the whole night and surely not with alcohol or smoking. Plus, your crush insinuated that it would be a date. For once you could be a dumb teenager, even if it was just for the night. Still, you chose a very simple costume; a pink dress that ended just above your knees and a tiara. "Mommy, you so pretty!", your daughter said as she spotted you doing your makeup in the bathroom. She's been running around the house all day in Cinderella costume ever since you helped her get dressed after school. "Thank you, baby.", you said with a smile before finishing your lipstick. "Does the princess wanna put the tiara on mommy's head?" With a toothy grin, Prissy took the hair accessory from your hands to put it on you.

"Pretty!", she said once again. With a smile, you gave her a kiss on the cheek and left a lipstick print. "Come here, princess, you gotta look at your face." You picked her up and had her stand on the bathroom counter. "See, mommys lip print is on your cheek." Prissy giggled when she saw her face and turned around to hug you. "Love you, mommy.", she said while burying her fave into your neck. "I love you, too, Prissy.", you said while carrying her out of the bathroom. She remained cuddled up to you, taking in every second of cuddling she could get while you walked downstairs to your father. A wide grin formed on his face as he saw the two of you. "Look at that, both my girls are beautiful princesses.", he said before looking for his camera. Prissy giggled in your arms, now looking up after getting in her cuddles, and laughed even more when she saw her Paw-Paw look for a camera. "I think he wants to take a picture of us, baby.", you told her with a small smile. Ever since she was born, you kept multiple photo albums of her and this one would definetly go in it.

Your father did take a picture, or multiple, of the two of you before getting you and Prissy in his car to drive you to the party. He knew that it would be a house party with alcohol, smoking and teenagers making out but he actually didn't mind. Considering you had a child at 14, he thought you could be stupid for one night. As long as you don't come home pregnant again, which you had do solemnly promise, he didn't mind. "Have fun, sweetheart.", he told you while you got out of the car. "Bye dad.", you replied with a grin, then opened the back door to say goodbye to your daughter. "Bye Prissy, I'll see you tomorrow." You kissed her face multiple times while she giggled. "I love you, baby." You finished with those words before closing the car door and waving after them while walking up the driveway backwards.

It was a bit overwhelming. You weren't an out-of-controll teenager who got pregnant at a party, this was your very first one. Many people from your grade were there, greeting you with surprised tones, as you made your way inside. Just mere seconds after, you wish you didn't. Steve was standing in a corner with Nancy right next to him. Chatting. Laughing. Looking like a couple. But he didn't see you yet, and confrontation did seem hard right now. Ot felt like a knife was stabbed into your heart, and tears build up. How could be basically ask you out on a date and then bring Nancy? And even if they didn't come together, why would he stand so close to her? Your heart was being ripped open and thrown away. Jesus, how could you be so stupid and get your hopes up?

So you made a beeline to the kitchen, where a bowl of punch stood. Judging by everyone around, it must've been spiked. And you didn't care. From stories, drinking made you forget issues so you took the possibility.

"My, my, I think I spotted a little princess.", someone behind you said. As you turned, you spotted the new kid you passed in the hall once or twice. He checked you out from head to toe with a smirk playing on his lips. "And who am I spotting?", you asked with a sly smile. He took your hand and gave it a small kiss. "Billy. Billy Hargrove.", he replied. Billy smelled like cigarettes and beer, which was oddly attractive to you. Also, he was clearly tipsy already. "You here by yourself, princess?" You nodded your head at his question before taking another big sip of the punch. As a response, he put his arm around your shoulders and walked with you. "Come on, if I don't take you with me someone else will." Steve was becoming a memory as Billy walked you outside to the keg stand. "What's your name?", he asked you as he pulled you closer to his body while getting out a pack of cigarettes with his free hand. "(Y/N).", you responded with a grin. He lit his cigarette, blew out the smoke and took it between his fingers. "Beautiful name.", Billy said before offering you his lit cigarette. Why not? You took a long drag but started coughing while blowing out the smoke. He laughed at your antics and took it back. "Never smoked before?" You shook your head at his question while still coughing. Someone handed you a beer to wash it down, and it did actually help. "What's a princess like you doing here by herself anyways?", Billy asked you while you watched someone miserably fail at the keg stand. "Someone's asked me out on a date, but now he's here with his ex.", you responded. He raised an eyebrow and looked deeply offended. "Well, he's an asshole. You're mine now." You blushed at his words, but you really didn't mind his proclamation. Although it was a drunken one. It felt good, no matter the circumstances. Again, someone failed the keg stand as you watched. "I wanna try it.", you proclaimed loudly. Two cups of spiked punch and a bit of beer was already getting to your head, most likely because you never drank before. "Alright princess, let me help you up.", he said while getting another guy to help you stand upright. You giggled before someone put the nozzle between your lips. As much as Billy wanted to focus on you chugging, he couldn't help but look at your ass that was fully presented due to your skirt not being able to hide anything anymore. Plus, you felt your tiara slip from your head as soon as you did the handstand. "One, two, three.", people around you started counting loudly as you kept chugging. Ten was the goal in your head, which wouldn't be bad for your first. "Four, Five, Six.", the others continued. While beer wasn't your thing as you realised, it felt good to have no worries for one night. And this was more fun than you've expected. "Seven, eight, nine." You felt your arms get wobbly, which caused you to get down at 11. People around you cheered, Billy put his arm back around you and took a drag from someone elses cigarette before announcing that he'd go for it as well. "This one's for you, princess.", he said while putting the tiara back on your head. You don't know why he chose to dote over you right now, but it's not like you minded. Most likely, he was trying to get lucky at the end of the night. Which you wouldn't mind, either.

Billy lasted until 22 before he got down. "Billy's our new keg king!", someone screamed while others started chanting his name. "C'mere.", he said while putting his arm around your shoulders again and taking you with him. Someone handed him a lit cigarette again, while a girl gave you a red cup that smelled like hard liquor. Billy walked through the house with you, following two guys who kept yelling that they had a new keg king. You were stupidly grinning until both of you were dragged to Steve and Nancy. "We've got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington.", one of the guys yelled. Steve took off his sunglasses to take a look at Billy, before looking over at you with a confused expression. Meanwhile, Nancy walked off into the kitchen. "What are you doing here?", he asked you while noticing Billy's arm around you. It pulled on his heartstrings a bit. "You asked me to come here, as a date.", you reminded him. "But since you'd rather take fancy Nancy, I found someone else." The grin on your face could be described as nothing but shiteating cheeky. "I didn't think you'd come.", he admitted. Billy laughed at that. "Good thing you ditched here, she's mine now.", he said before walking off with you.

Billy stayed with you for the entire party. At some point, both of you were making out outside. Right now, the sting of Steve standing you up was completely gone and for once you felt like you were actually just a 17-year old teenager. "Come on, let's take this party somewhere else.", he said before dragging you to the bathroom. Just as you rounded the corner, Steve came out with a big slam of the door. Both of you rushed by him and went in the bathroom, where you found Nancy. "Get out.", you said to her. She looked over at you, clearly just as drunk as you were, with a death stare. "You're not scary, Nancy. Get the fuck out." After she still didn't move, you grabbed her by the arm and pushed her outside the bathroom before locking the door. "You've got some fire in you.", Billy said before picking you up and setting you down on the dirty bathroom counter. Both of you kept making out with no regards of anyone knocking at the door. Before you knew it, your dress was off. When he went down to get between your legs, Billy noticed the c-section scar running across your lower abdomen. He looked up at you, but you took the question from Billy's mouth. "I had a c-section at 14.", you slurred. You expected many reactions from him, mostly him leaving you in the bathroom, but he just smirked and said: "I always wanted to fuck a mom."

You don't remember how you made it home. But you woke up in your own bed in the morning, not with Prissy next to you, with a pounding headache. As soon as you moved just a bit, you were already running to the bathroom to throw up. Why do people enjoy drinking if this is the outcome? "Hungover?", your dad teased while leaning against the doorframe. "It's gonna be fine. I'll make you fatty food and get you some aspirin." He handed you some toilet paper to whipe your mouth with, which you gladly took. "Where's Prissy?", you asked once you flushed the toilet. "I let her stay up a bit longer than usual, so she's still asleep." You nodded before he left to go downstairs. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you noticed all of the hickeys on your neck. "Fucking hell.", you mumbled before getting back into your room. Grey sweatpants and a turtleneck sweater seemed like the best option right now. Soon enough, you smelled bacon and walked downstairs. "Did you have fun, at least?", you dad asked while you sat down on the kitchen island. He handed you a glass with some asprin in it. "It was good. I met a new student from my grade, he moved here from California." Your dad looked up from the pan. "Billy? Yeah, he brought you here last night. Seems like a nice kid." Well, that mystery was solved at least. "Yeah, he's cool."

Your father made you bacon, eggs and oatmeal with some orange juice. While he set some aside for Prissy, you ate it up like you haven't eaten in weeks. "Glad you had fun, sweetheart. But you gotta recover until 3, I still have work." You nodded your head at his words. "Is it morally wrong to have a lazy day with your child? I don't think I can go to the playground today." He laughed a bit at your question. "I doubt it. Maybe go in the garden at some point, though." A smile played on your lips at his words. "I can manage that." He turned to leave the kitchen, but not without saying: "And make up a good excuse for Prissy when she sees those hickeys."

It was four and you laid on the couch with Prissy in your arms, watching the Cinderella movie. She was her favourite princess and picked the movie all by herself. You had put some cut up fruit and juice on the table for the two of you to snack on. While Cinderella was trying on the glass shoe, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it, baby.", you said while getting off the couch and slouched to the door. It greatly displeased you once you opened it, because Steve was standing on the other side.

"What?", you asked in an annoyed tone. He was honestly the last person you wanted to see. "(Y/N), I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, or at least cancelled.", he said with a look of desperation. You scoffed at his half-assed apology. "I'm not going to tell you what I actually think, Steve, because my child is in the next room.", you started. "But you can go fuck yourself. If Nancy broke up with you, because I did see her leave with Jonathan, that doesn't mean you get to jump to the next best girl." He ran a hand through his hair and sighted. "It's not like that, (Y/N), please. I...I do like you." His sudden confession didn't make you as happy as it should've. Sure, you still liked him because otherwise it wouldn't hurt so much but you were too angry at him. "I don't care, Steve. You didn't care about my feelings either."

"Mommy, they gonna kiss!", you toddler shouted from the living room. "Have a good day, Steve.", you said before shutting the door. "What, they're gonna kiss?", you said with a false grin while walking into the living room. "There's no way that they're gonna kiss!" You started tickling her stomach and kissing her face while she laughed underneath you.

After all, that she loved you was all that mattered in the end.

[lotus-pear]

finally started p5 royal ‼️‼️‼️‼️

expect some royal trio art soon they are my dearly beloveds (minus akechi i hope he dies in this reality too)

[pepperpixel]

SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS,

BUT HE HATES WHEN I ACT CRAZY,

IT TAKES TWO TO TOXIC!

FINALLY!!! Finished these pics of jinx I’ve been working on!!!!! HOLY SHIT, these took so long…. But finally… they’re done… pls enjoy this art of my beautiful princess w a disorder. Featuring alternate colors for the big pic and also a closeup! Cuz I rlly like how both the lines and coloring on her face turned out… like the pink gradients w her eye… her deer in headlights expression,, like uve just startled a raccoon digging thru ur trashcan and r two seconds away from getting mauled.. m proud of it!

[quietwingsinthesky]

was writing this down for an ask but realized i was quickly getting off topic for that ask lmao. let’s talk about Dean’s handprint, the wild misinterpretations of it, and how those have affected how people read Anna covering it during her sex scene with Dean.

We have to establish the obvious first: the number one way the handprint is misinterpreted is to establish a romantic connection between Dean and Castiel from their very first meeting. Because of how popular the ship is, we’re now left with the unfortunate aftermath of people knowing the ship first and the show second, and therefore being more inclined to interpret the show through the lens of the ship. Needless to say, while looking at season 4 through that lens for hints of destiel is fun, it doesn’t lead to a thematically cohesive reading. The handprint is the best way we can demonstrate this. If we take the handprint to indicate that Castiel has been romantically interested in Dean since minute one, or even that he sees Dean as a person rather than an instrument of Heaven’s will at first (put a pin in that), then the rest of his character arc for the season is incoherent and meaningless. To assert that this is what the handprint is about takes the conclusion Castiel needs the entirety of season 4 to reach and transplants it onto him at the very beginning in order to make it easier to find evidence for the ship.

There’s a lot of media out there where interpreting it through the lens of a ship, even one unintended by the author, can enhance the original text. (Lest we all forget our Winter Soldier roots.) Supernatural does not have that relationship to interpreting it to be about destiel. A season 4 where the handprint means Castiel is in love with Dean is a weaker story and does a huge disservice to Castiel’s actual character arc.

So, now that we’ve established what the handprint isn’t, can we talk about what it is? Yes. It’s pretty simple, actually.

Think of it this way: To Heaven, Dean is livestock, and the handprint is the brand telling everyone (but especially Dean) what ranch he belongs to.

Let’s start with the obvious: it isn’t a metaphorical brand at all. It’s literal. It’s burned into his skin permanently (or at least, when the makeup department wants to put it there.) I’d argue that from the nature of it being notable as the only scar Dean has from being raised from Hell and later showing up during his sex scene with Anna that even if we don’t see the handprint, we’re meant to interpret it as continuing to be there for… well. The rest of his life, most likely. And that’s horrifying. The handprint is telling us two things when it shows up: one, letting us know that Dean’s resurrection was intentional and through a manner we as the audience don’t have the information to guess at yet. Anyone who watched the show airing, or watches it now without knowing about angels would have assumed demonic deal intervention as being the cause of Dean’s new lease on life, and this. handily. discards that theory. But secondly, it tells us that this resurrection was violating. All resurrections on Supernatural are.

We assume from Castiel’s line, you know the one, we all know the one, Mr. Gripped-You-Tight, that he’s the one who put it there. However, to then make a further leap that it was Castiel’s personal decision to do so is, I think, a misunderstanding of his role. Take that pin out now. Dean is not a person to Castiel at this point. They’re not friends. Dean is a tool for Heaven to use, a tool that should be honored and grateful to be picked up at all. Make no mistake: Castiel branded him for Heaven, not for himself. Castiel’s a ranchhand. They aren’t in the business of letting the cows run free if they look a little sad to be slaughtered later.

Castiel needs to start here for his arc to be as impactful as it is. He can’t begin rebellious. He has to learn how to doubt. He has to develop a personal friendship with Dean that threatens his allegiance to Heaven. He has to see Anna having chosen to fall rather than obey Heaven and to be betrayed by Uriel being so desperate that he’s turned to killing their brothers and sisters trying to find a way out from under Heaven’s control.

There’s another line I think gets misinterpreted a lot in this initial meeting. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved?” On its face, easy bait for someone looking for shipping fodder, but that misses the actual point of the line. It’s a powerplay. We don’t learn until later why Dean wouldn’t think he deserves to be saved (aside from his general Winchester levels of self-esteem, but knowing that trait about him actually serves as a pretty good red herring to mask real reason Dean is thinking about himself as irredeemable now until the reveal. It’s not that Dean had a low opinion about himself in general, but that he tortured people in Hell and can never forgive himself for that.) , but Castiel does know. All of Heaven knows what Dean’s sin in Hell was. Without saying it, Castiel can remind Dean of it here. This line isn’t about Dean being so inherently good that Castiel had to rescue him. It’s about making sure Dean knows that the only way he can be ‘redeemed’ is through obedience to the heavenly powers who own his ass now. This is how he deserves to be saved. Because God commanded it. Because they have work for him.

And if he doesn’t bow? Then, as Castiel puts it in the very next episode, “I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” This threat hanging over Dean’s head won’t go away for the rest of the season, not from Heaven. The only shift is that Castiel’s continued doubt and disobedience levels the playing field between them. They’ll both be punished, rather than Castiel taking on the role of disciplinarian. (It’s a really clever way of dealing with that power gap between them, actually. There’s always a bigger fish.)

The handprint and Castiel’s early conversations with Dean serve as a reminder of the precarious position he’s in. We shouldn’t take him ‘being saved’ at face value, no more than we should take Heaven being good just because they’re the angels in this equation as a given. Dean hasn’t been saved. He’s being used, just as much (if not arguably more) than Ruby is using Sam. (Because at least Ruby truly believes this is for Sam’s benefit, in the end.) And the worst part is how aware of it Dean is. How could he not be? His entire stint in Hell is defined by how Alistair used him. He’s just been handed off to a different owner, one that will still happily push him into the thing they ‘saved’ him from the minute it proves useful. Dean needing to torture Alistair reminds us just how little his circumstances have actually changed. He’s not allowed to say no to this.

So. The handprint is Heaven’s mark of ownership. It’s Dean’s status as their tool, their victim, burned into his flesh and inescapable. What does it mean when Anna places her hand over it?

I’ll lay my cards on the table. I’ve been thinking about this for so long because the aforementioned tendency to assume that the handprint is evidence for destiel means that the scene between Anna & Dean also gets lumped into being interpreted as more evidence for destiel. For over a decade, I have endured people joking about Anna being jealous of Cas for getting to leave a mark on their boytoy. And that’s one of the nicer things the Supernatural fandom will say about a woman who they perceive as a threat to their ship.

So, not to be rude or anything, but fuck Castiel. This ain’t about him.

This scene—It’s a lovely scene, a fantastic continuation of Dean and Anna’s previous conversation into the language of a sex scene—is about two people who have both been used and threatened by Heaven connecting over that shared trauma. Before, Anna gives space for Dean to open up about Hell, but he can’t, not yet, and though she knows what he’s gone through, she hasn’t been there herself. But when it comes to what Heaven has made of them, she does understand. It’s an incredibly vulnerable moment.

You make the handprint about Dean and Cas, and you erase what that scene is about entirely: the way Heaven’s abuse has tangled itself deep into Dean and Anna’s lives, into their bodies, and how they can resist it, if only for a few moments together.

The handprint was never about Castiel at all. It was about Heaven and its dehumanization of Dean.

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!