#i did NOT mean for this to get so sentimental lol??

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 5 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. CHAP 5 IS HERE! i'm so sorry my loves i'm kind of a bot and didn't upload for 2 weeks....lol...anyways hi here it is wc. 9.1k

“what’s going on, y/n?”

you’re fighting tears as you look for words, but nothing but chopped stutters pass through your lips. you’re too stunned to speak, and you honestly can’t even comprehend what just happened. 

you had kissed billie. it was a complete mistake, but that was a comfort to no one. especially not you. 

“hello? i’m getting a little worried now.” 

your breath hitches as you stumble over your words, pressing the phone tighter to your ear as if the closeness could somehow keep you grounded. you finally spot the words out, “i messed up.”

“huh?” oliver clears his throat, “you…what? what happened? are you okay? 

you choke, your voice cracking under the weight of your panic as you sink into a bench, not far from where you started, “ollie i…i really, really messed up.”

“i’m lost. what’s going on?” he asks, his tone softening as he registers the distress in your voice. you can tell he’s a little worried too, and you didn’t mean to spread the fear to him, but it’s too late for that. 

“where are you? do you need me to come get you?”

you pause, glancing around the dimly lit street you’ve been pacing down since storming out of billie’s car. she’s gone now— she left a couple minutes ago, and part of you is upset that she just caved in on you that easily. but she probably has her own emotions to deal with, and she didn’t want to impose them on you, so she just ran. 

just like you did. 

your blood is practically hot with anger towards yourself, forwards her— any possible direction that you could aim your emotions at, you did. she knew that you were feeling confused, and you knew that you weren’t in the headspace to be making any decisions as rash as that one was. you were aching and empty inside, any sliver of sentiment you had poured itself out through your tears. 

you were so very lost. everything you stood for, and everything you were against, it all seemed like blurred lines now. you had to admit, though, you wanted to kiss her. and it didn’t feel wrong when you did it, but it really was the aftermath. 

the feeling of shame that washed over you when the kiss broke was almost unearthly. you felt like you had committed the ultimate sin, and you were sure there was no coming back from this. there was no compensation, no do-overs, just you, billie, and the thick feeling of regret hanging loosely in the air, dangling over your head. 

a little part of you wish you were still in her car, your lips smashed into hers, her hands roaming in your hair and your heart pumping out of your chest. but it was all an adrenaline rush, the fun in knowing that you’re doing something wrong, but it feels so right. but you didn’t live by what felt right, you lived by what was right.

by law, by an obligation— a duty to serve the one who put breath in your lungs, the very lungs that heaved and shook as you cried your heart out to oliver, no words being said. you were at a loss for them, there was nothing you could say or do or words to describe to convey a fourth of what you felt in the moment.  

billie was hurting, too, you were sure of it. all this time that you had spent innocently flirting, hanging out, confiding in her— it was all wasted now, and you were back to square one. she was confused, you kiss her and then you leave? what was she supposed to do with that?

but it wasn’t your fault. you couldn’t. you couldn’t allow yourself to be caught up in fleeting feelings and a stupid crush, you had bigger things to worry about, a faith to nurture and feed, friendships to grow, a degree to catch. you had a long life ahead of you, and success was at the center— and you were sure she couldn’t be a part of it.

oliver facetimes you when he doesn’t hear you answer through the phone. he needed to know you were at least alive, so when the phone connected, he returned back to his normal, calm state. he watched as you wiped your eyes and your hands shook over your open mouth, almost preparing to say something, but all that came out was broken sobs. 

“it’s okay,” he whispered, though he knew it wasn’t, but that was the best he could do. “i’m here. i’m ready when you are, take your time.” 

you sniffle harshly, your nose running as you try to take the deepest breath you can to steady yourself. you look around the parking lot— its dark now, empty, only a few cars parked at the rage room and a liquor store that’s two buildings down. 

your eyes squint at it, the blue fluorescent lights suddenly appealing to you. all you’ve ever had to drink was a glass of wine, and it was your last resort of them all, but it seemed like an idea that would keep your feelings at bay. 

so you get up, and you walk. 

you’re almost sure you’re not even conscious, because there’s no way you’d ever do this. ever. you’d never intentionally walk to any place that serves alcohol in the middle of the night, much less a store that sells it exclusively. 

but you really don’t have any other options. 

you could pray, but it seems foreign to you. it feels like God’s turned His back on you, like He’s asleep and you’re trying to jerk Him awake, but His listening is selective. it’s like you’re on the outside, like you’ve slipped out of His hands, and it killed you on the inside. 

you felt conflicted. tense, but loose internally. your mind was thinking of things you’d even begin to think of, ready to commit actions that even you weren’t all that prepared for. but you kept walking. 

it feels like forever until you finally reach the doors of the liquor store. your legs are worn, feet bruising, and the cut on your hand seems to pulse exponentially worse as time goes on. you wince, and oliver’s eyebrow raises through the phone. you honestly forgot he was on FaceTime due to his silence, but it seemed like he was just simply waiting for you to speak when you were ready. 

you shoved your phone into your pocket and approached the door, the fluorescent blue lights buzzing faintly as you pushed open the door open a small bell jingling overhead to make your presence known. the air inside is cool, tinged with the smell of alcohol and old wood. shelves of bottles line the walls, the glass catching the light in a way that makes everything feel hazy, like you’ve stepped into a foreign area.

and you had, truly. you’d never been a liquor store before, because usually, it’d never really interest you. but you were caught up, feeling things you had never felt before, and it was like you were acting before you could think. 

you hated that your curiosity was what pushed you through the door and up to the bar area, where your swollen eyes scanned different bottles that were stooped against the wall. you almost walk out, but you’re here now, so you might as well get something. 

the only alcohol you’ve ever had is a glass of wine at christmas back home when you turned 21. it was alright, but it wasn’t something you really planned on doing that often— or, to be frank, ever again. 

but it intrigued you. why was everyone else so happy and loose when they drank. forgetful, dainty, fearless? 

you wanted to feel like that too, right about now— you longed for it, you craved it. so you sucked it up, your normal way of going about things far in the back of your mind as your feet carry you to the front. a young woman stands there with a warm smile, with so many tattoos that there’s more ink than skin. she greets you, “hey there. you must be sunday school,” and then she snickers, “can i help you with anything?” 

the words hit you like a slap to the face, the nickname pulling you out of your mind fog for just a moment. your heart stumbles, your mind catching on the phrase— it’s something billie calls you all the time, usually with a teasing grin or a playful nudge. but this woman doesn’t know you— how could she possibly know that? 

but you’re so focused on getting rid of this thick, uncomfortable haze that clouds your head, so you shake it off, ignoring the knot forming in your stomach. 

“just… looking,” you mumble, glancing away as your cheeks heat with embarrassment, “um…”

the bartender snorts. “sure you are. well, take your time. let me know if you need anything.” 

it’s radio silence after that. 

you’re really conflicted, to say the least. everything about you had been so prim and proper, so sophisticated— this didn’t feel like the real you at all. or, so you thought. 

sometimes, late at night, when your only company was your own thoughts, you’d ponder about what it would be like to switch lives with someone. anyone at all— but your mind always drifted to your best friends. 

maybe you could switch with emma, your hair traded for her long, red curls that matched her fiery personality. she really didn’t have a care in the world— she was blunt, honest, kind but straight-forward. she was smart, but very flexible. she didn’t have a set schedule for anything, that wasn’t really emma’s style. and you envied that. 

deep down, she was your best friend, but you wished you could steal some of the things that she embodied and keep them as your own. you wished you could just let go and be who you really wanted to be, but that wasn’t what faith was about. that’s not what you were about. 

that came first, always. it wasn’t about what you desired, it was about unearthly things, about things that awaited you after you’d pass away. it was important to you, though sometimes, you felt like your true colors were dimmed out. diluted, watered down— but you had to keep composure. there was nothing you could do, because it was all you’d ever known, and it was all you’d ever be. 

or maybe you could be like naomi. her ability to express herself through her wild purple hair, her whimsical clothing, all her crazy piercings. she was carefree, but passionate and warm, and always had your back when you needed her to. 

and even jules. she was blunt, straight as an arrow, but her laugh was as warm as a california breeze. she was clean cut and undeniably beautiful, her long and silky black hair accenting her perfect and strong features. she was the epitome of beauty and class, yet she didn’t let anyone talk to her sideways. she stood up for what she believed in and never divvied from it. 

you shared that with her, kind of. it seemed like you had drifted away now, like you were falling and you couldn’t even catch yourself. 

“ma’am, are you going to order anything? or…”

you snap out of your thoughts and look back at the bartender, who’s impatiently tapping her nails against the hardwood countertops. you don’t know the first thing about alcohol, so you stupidly ask, “uhm…well, what’s good?” 

“depends,” she starts, leaning against the counter as her eyes darted to the back of her head to gesture towards the cases behind her, “vodka if you wanna get drunk. tastes a little like hand sanitizer, but it isn’t all that bad. it’ll be the easiest on you, i take it that you don’t do this whole drinking thing— so that’s the best start. just burns a little, but you’ll be alright.”

you hum to yourself. 

“uh… okay,” you mumble out, glancing uneasily at the rows of bottles behind her. they’re all bright labels and sharp shapes, promising you a world you’ve never stepped foot in. promising relaxation for your nerves, but all of this just seems intimidating. but you really can’t back out now— you’re here already, and you’d do just about anything to quiet your swirling mind. so you just nod, “alright.. i’ll take that, then. vodka.” you nod. 

the bartender smirks, a little too knowingly, and it makes you feel queasy.

“so, i figured you’d be a lightweight,” she mutters under her breath, pulling a clear, large bottle from the shelf and setting it on the counter, “you want it straight or mixed? might be easier on you if it’s mixed.”

“mixed, i guess?” you say, your voice unsure. you don’t even know what mixed means— you just don’t want to look like you don’t belong here. which, clearly, you don’t, but if you convince yourself enough, it’ll make you feel a little better. 

“you ever drink before?” she asks, grabbing a shaker and some other bottles, pouring them together without even looking at what she’s doing, she’s really just looking at you. 

she’s very pretty, and it doesn’t add to your nervousness, or the already disgusting feeling that you have practically glued to you. you’re trying so hard to forget about the kiss, but it’s just wreaking havoc on your brain. and all of a sudden, it’s like you were opened up to a whole new world— one that you didn’t necessarily feel all that comfortable in. but at the same time, it kept you reeled in, like you needed to figure out what all of this was. 

but you couldn’t. you had to stand firm. you had things to do, and priorities that couldn’t falter. billie could not and would not be a part of them in any circumstance. you just had to mask it all, slip this underneath the carpet and pretend it had never happened. 

“uh, sometimes,” you lie, but it sounds weak even to your own ears. you just didn’t want to seem like you didn’t belong. even though, deep down, you didn’t. 

or did you? 

the bartender gives you a look, one eyebrow raised, like she knows you’re full of shit. but she doesn’t call you out on it.

“if you say so,” she says, sliding the glass of vodka toward you, “here. start with this. it’s on the house, just for the entertainment purposes.” 

you take the glass hesitantly, the cold condensation chilling your fingers as they curl around it, your rings clanking against it, “thanks.” 

binging it to your lips, you take a swig, and your face immediately contorts sourly as you slam the glass back onto the counter. the first sip is sharp, burning, and you barely stop yourself from coughing as it slides down your throat.

the bartender watches you with a grin, “yeah, i thought so. don’t worry, kid— you’ll get used to it.”

you’re about to respond— though you don’t even know what you’d say— when movement in the corner of the room catches your eye. at first, you think it’s just another customer, roaming around somewhere, but then you see her.

billie. 

of course she’s here, by just your luck. she’s sitting at a small table near the back, a bottle of beer in one hand and her phone in the other. her head is down, her hair falling in loose waves around her face, but there’s no mistaking her. you know it’s her. you can feel it. 

your chest tightens, a mix of anger and something you can’t quite name bubbling up inside you. without thinking, you turn on your heel and march toward her, your footsteps heavy against the worn wooden floor.

“oh, hell no.” you hear her mutter as she stands up, her glass forgotten on the table. you can tell just by the way that she’s moving that she’s drunk, and for a second, you’re taken back to that night at the diner. heat is so prominent in your face that you feel like your head will blow off— and in moments, she’s in front of you, her expression a foreign mix of confusion and irritation.

“what the hell are you doing here?” billie asks you, her voice low but tense. 

you straighten up, trying to match her energy, but it’s hard when your nerves are shot, and you’re holding a drink you don’t even want. 

“none of your business,” you reply, but it comes out shakier than you intended, as always. 

“none of my—?” she cuts herself off, running a hand through her dark hair, clearly trying to keep her cool, “you don’t even drink, y/n. what the fuck are you doing in a place like this?”

“i don’t owe you an explanation,” you snap, the words coming out harsher than you expect, but it’s exactly what you wanted. it was exactly what you needed. 

she leans closer to you, though it doesn’t seem like it’s on purpose, her eyes narrowing, “you don’t, huh? after storming off and leaving me to wonder if you even were okay? you don’t think i deserve a little bit of an explanation for that shit?” 

“billie, i—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“no, you listen to me,” she says, her voice rising slightly at you, “you can’t just kiss me, run off like i’m some kind of mistake, and then show up here pretending like nothing happened.”

“billie…”

“i wish you’d stop acting like this, like you’re too scared to feel something, to be something, and just— i mean, y/n—”

“please, stop it—“ 

“really, why would you lead me on like this if you didn’t want me? why would you go out with me if—“

“billie, would you just shut the fuck up!” 

the words burst out of you before you can stop them, loud and sharp, and the entire room seems to go silent for a moment. you freeze, the weight of what you just said hitting you all at once, and your hands immediately slap over your mouth, terrified. you’ve never sworn like that before— never sworn at all, really, and now it’s hanging in the air between you and billie, heavy and suffocating.

her eyes widen in shock, and for a second, neither of you say anything. then, slowly, her lips curve into a small, incredulous smile, and it makes the anger in you only bubble worse. 

“wow,” she says softly, “didn’t know you had that in you.”

your jaw clenches as your hands drop from your mouth, your fingers curling into fists at your sides, “don’t start, billie. just don’t.”

she tilts her head, that stupid smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. it’s like she’s enjoying this, like watching you unravel is some kind of personal victory for her.

“what? i’m just saying, sunday school, you’re full of surprises tonight.”

“enough with the nicknames,” you snap, your voice shaking, but you don’t really care anymore. the dam has broken, and all the emotions you’ve been holding back are pouring out, spilling everywhere, and it’s pointless to try and keep it together when everything is seemingly falling apart, “you don’t get to call me that, billie. not after everything. gosh, i wish you would just leave me alone.” 

billie’s expression shifts, her smile dropping almost immediately. she cocks her head to the side, “after everything? what does that even mean?”

“it means you don’t know me. not really,” you say, your voice rising. at this point, the bartender and the other three people in the bar are all looking at you, but you pay them no mind. you needed to get this out.

“and the problem with you is that you think you do, but you don’t. at all. you just push me and push me, and you never stop to think about what i might be going through. you just… assume I’ll be okay with whatever you want. well i’m not. i don’t want you to know me, i don’t want you to ask if i’m okay, but god— most important of all,” you lower your head, your words slow and deliberate, “i don’t want you.” 

her brows knit together, and she steps closer, her voice dropping. she looks like she could almost cry, but that’s honestly the least of your worries right now. you were so infuriated at her, and the tears that slipped down her reddened cheeks didn’t even phase you. you had other things to worry about. 

“t-that’s not fair,” billie finally speaks, her voice cracking underneath the weight of this heated argument, and for a split second, you almost feel bad. “you don’t let anyone in. h-how am i supposed to know what you’re going through if you don’t talk to me?”

you take a deep breath, trying to contain yourself, “because it’s not your job to fix me, billie. i don’t need you to swoop in and save me all the time. maybe i just need space— have you ever thought about that? huh? have you?” 

she flinches like you’ve struck her, and for a moment, guilt twists in your stomach. but then she straightens, her jaw tightening as she meets your gaze, finally looking up from the floor.

“okay,” she says, her voice cold now, all the warmth vanishing as she shrugs gently, “if that’s what you want. i won’t speak to you ever again.” 

“good,” you snap, though the word tastes bitter in your mouth, and you almost regret it. 

was this really what you wanted? your heart was racing at the words, the reality sinking in. she wasn’t going to ever talk to you again— but that’s what you had begged her for, and now that she’s giving it to you, it’s almost like you had changed your mind. but it was too late for that. 

billie stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. and then, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks away from you, leaving you standing there, idle, your anger dissipating as quickly as it came, replaced by an ache that settles deep in your chest.

you watch her go, the weight of what just happened pressing down on you like a weighted blanket. your shoulders slump, and for a moment, you think about calling after her, about saying something to fix this, but the words won’t come. your stomach feels sick and your head is hot, and you’re sure that you’re sinking into the floor as you hear the bells above the shop jingle, billie’s silhouette disappearing into the night. 

with tears brimming your eyes, you turn back to the counter, your hands trembling as you pick up your abandoned drink. the bartender glances at you, her expression a mix of curiosity and pity, but she doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you with an apologetic expression, her lips pursed as she tries to hold back from asking questions. 

you take a shaky breath and lift the glass of vodka to your lips, the burn of the alcohol doing little to dull the ache in your chest. you don’t know what you were expecting to find here tonight, but whatever it was, it feels further away than ever now.

the bartender finally speaks. “i’m so sorry, girl.” 

“it’s fine,” you mutter out, your nails scraping against your glass, your other hand busy picking at your lips. you’re engrossed in your own thoughts and the silence that consumes you, when you feel your phone vibrate. 

oliver. 

you had completely forgotten that he was on the other line, and you fish your phone out of your pocket hurriedly, your eyes being met with multiple texts and calls that you had missed from him. 

ollie: dude are you okay ??? i’m coming to get u now. 

ollie: my phone died so i didn’t hear everything but im omw. stay put. 

your chest tightens as you stare down at your phone, guilt gnawing at the edges of your already frayed nerves. you didn’t mean to worry him like that— but you can’t focus on that right now. or really, anything at all. 

all you can do is type out a quick response, your fingers trembling as they dance across the screen. you reassure him that you’re fine, and for him to do his best to get here quickly, because you were sure you were absolutely losing it. 

you look at the time, and it’s somehow already a little past midnight. your body is exhausted and your mind is racing in so many different areas, and you honestly just want to go home. 

you lock your phone and slide it back into your pocket, your hands still shaking as you cradle the empty glass in front of you. you slam it against the counter, “another.” 

“honey, i think—“

“just give me the alcohol.” you speak slowly yet sternly, and the bartender just nods, refilling your glass with straight vodka this time. you immediately drink it, the burn of it sitting heavy in your stomach, but it doesn’t do anything to warm you up, to fill the cold, hollow ache that’s settled deep in your chest.

you take another shot. and then two more, and you start to lose count. you felt trapped in your own mind, and usually, you weren’t really all that bothered by it. but after the kiss, after the blow-up in front of everyone, you were thinking and acting irrationally. you were absolutely over it— whatever consequences that were to come, you would deal with them later. but your thoughts only became louder and louder, swarming your conscience, and you would do pretty much anything to get them to disappear right about now. 

the bartender eventually refuses to serve you more shots. you’re much past tipsy now— and she can tell by the way a slow, warm grin crawls itself onto your face, and you smush your head into your hands, giggling. your skin is tingly and warm, and it’s foreign to you, but you like it. you can only think of one thing, and it’s how good you feel, and you want to wrap yourself in it and never let go. 

the bartender doesn’t push you any further about what happened, or how you’re feeling— she just nods and moves down the counter to give you space. the silence is deafening, broken only by the low hum of the bar’s music and the occasional clink of glasses. you stare down at your half-full drink, your reflection distorted in the clear liquid, and for a moment, you wonder if this is what absolute rock bottom feels like.

the sound of the bells above the door jingling pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up slowly, your nerves and slurred body movements not really allowing you to move much faster. your breath catches in your throat when you see him— oliver, standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his chest heaving like he ran all the way here. his eyes scan the room quickly, landing on you, and you see the relief wash over his face as he strides toward you.

“Jesus, dude, you scared me. what the hell happened?” he asks as soon as he reaches you, his voice low but urgent.

you open your mouth to answer, but the words get stuck in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head as your eyes well up with tears again. you break in front of him, your facade faltering, and you just press your head into your palms as your body shivers with your cries. 

“oh…hey, it’s okay,” oliver says quickly, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your arm. he gives it a small, gentle squeeze, “let’s get out of here, yeah? come on. i’ll take you home.” 

you nod silently, letting him guide you off the barstool and out of the building. the night air hits you like a slap to the face, cold and sharp, and you pull your hoodie tighter around yourself as you follow oliver to his car.

the ride is quiet at first, the tension thick in the small space of his black mini cooper. oliver glances at you every now and then, his knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say much. he’s waiting for you to speak, waiting for you to tell him what’s going on.

“i-i messed up,” you finally whisper, your voice cracking as you slump into the back seat, stretching out your limbs and resting your head against the window, “i messed up so bad, ollie.”

he doesn’t respond right away, just flicks his eyes toward you through the rear view mirror before focusing back on the road. 

“okay,” he says slowly, but you can tell he’s worried for what you’re about to tell him, “let’s start with what happened. whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. but you gotta tell me, okay? because i’m not gonna lie, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” 

you take a shaky breath, your fingers twisting in your lap as you try to find the words. your mind feels like it’s moving backwards, in slow motion, and you swear that you’re talking, but only your lips move. you rest a hand over your forehead, trying to force sound to come out, “i-i…kissed her.” 

“billie?” he asks, surprised, and you nod, your cheeks burning with shame.

“it just… it just happened,” you continue, the words spilling out of you now. people had always talked about having drunk confessions, and well, here was yours. 

“a-and then… we fought, and i s-said things— awful things, things i didn’t mean, but they just came out. and now she’s gone, and i-i don’t even know if we can fix this. i don’t know if i want to fix this.”

oliver is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in thought. his voice is slightly shaky now, and it’s obvious that he’s really worried about you. he peeks at you through the rear view again, “so… you kissed her— but then what? she got mad? or you got mad?” 

“both,” you say, your voice loud, though you meant to say that way quieter than you actually did, and then all the confessions come, “i was sad, r-really sad, and you guys…you guys always talk about how drinking makes you…i don’t know, n-not sad? so i took like— i can’t remember, six shots? and now i’m drunk. and me and billie got into an argument a-and i…i told her i didn’t want her. at all. i’m such an idiot.” 

oliver gasps, ready to say something, but you cut him off with your own words, “ollie…i don’t think i can do this anymore. i’m sick, i’m messed up…i-i’m not this perfect little angel that everyone thinks i am. i’m horrible and messy and…i just, i can’t anymore. really.” 

you feel oliver slam on the brakes, the car jerking slightly as he pulls over to the side of the road. the sudden stop shocks you out of your rambling, your chest heaving as you realize how out of control your words had become. your stomach felt like it was still in the other lane as you felt oliver park next to the street, and you cover your mouth, letting out an unprompted gag. 

oliver immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you, his eyes wide with concern, his hands gripping the steering wheel. 

“y/n. hey,” he says, his voice firm but still soft enough to remind you that it’s him, that you’re gonna be okay, “breathe. just breathe. it’s alright, you’re safe.”

you nod shakily, trying to pull in a deep breath, but it catches in your throat. your chest feels too tight, like there’s a rubber band around it pulling tighter and tighter with every second. you feel like you’re on the verge of snapping, so you keep quiet. your eyes slowly closing. 

“look at me,” he says, his voice steady, and you do. his eyes are locked on yours, grounding you, “you’re not horrible, okay? you’re not messy, you’re not broken, and you’re definitely not some perfect angel. you’re you, and that’s enough. it’s always been enough.”

you let out a choked laugh, shaking your head as tears spill over your cheeks. you wipe your nose, “no, but you don’t get it, ollie. you don’t know what it’s like to… to feel like you’re drowning all the time. to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never enough. for anyone. not even for me.” 

“i don’t know what that’s like?” he repeats, his voice raising slightly as he leans over the armrest, leaning further into you as your eyes hover over him, “you think i don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough? like you’re just… just barely holding it together for everyone else’s sake? because i do. believe me, i do. i just…i don’t talk about it.” 

you blink at him, startled. he rarely lets this side of himself show, the side that’s as vulnerable as you feel right now. you whisper, “w-what do you mean?” 

“i’ve had my fair share of…bad religious experiences,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly. he really never opens up to anyone, but the timing seemed appropriate, and you didn’t really mind. 

“when i came out to my parents, it took them forever to be accepting. i wasn’t welcomed in my church anymore— though i believed, and i still do. but you don’t see me running away or… or drinking myself sick. because while it feels good, it doesn’t fix anything. it just makes it worse. and seeing you like this? it kills me, okay? because you’re not supposed to go through this alone. it hurts us when you isolate yourself.” 

“but i feel so alone,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you finally sit up in the seat, your head whirring, “even when you’re here, even when billie’s here, i feel alone. like no one really gets me. not even…not even God.”

oliver’s face softens, and he reaches out to take your hand in his, his grip warm and steady as you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, “yeah, i know it feels like that. like He’s not there, like no one is. and i love you, so don’t take this the wrong way— but you’re wrong. you’ve got people who adore you, who want to help you. i want to help you. but you’ve got to let me in, okay? you’ve got to stop shutting me out. out of all of us, i think i’m the one who won’t bully you sick about this.” 

you both giggle softly, and his words sink in slowly, the weight of them pressing against your chest in a way that feels almost comforting. you nod, barely able to meet his eyes as you release your hand from his embrace, playing with your rings, “but i don’t know how.” 

“you just start,” he says simply, shrugging like it was nothing, “you tell me when you’re sad. you tell me when you feel like you’re drowning. and then, you let me help you keep your head above water. that’s what i’m here for, okay? that’s what i want to do. because you’re my best friend.” 

his sincerity is overwhelming, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of hope. it’s small, fragile, but it’s there. 

“okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “okay, ollie. but i…i need you to do something for me.” 

he nods at you fervently, “yeah, anything. anything at all.” 

“i need you to help me get away from her,” you say, your voice steadier now, but still tinged with desperation, “i need you to… i need you to fake date me.”

there’s an excruciatingly long pause, this one heavier than any of the last. when oliver finally speaks, there’s a note of disbelief in his voice. he cocks his head to the side and gives you wide eyes, “hold on, you want me to what?”

“just for a little while,” you plead, your words tumbling out in a rush, “i need her to think i’ve moved on or— or that i’m not interested or something. i just need to put some space between us, and this…this is the only way i can think to do it. i just need her to leave me alone. please. while i figure things out.” 

“y/n,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to piece together the logic behind your plan, though you can tell by the look on his face that he thinks it’s stupid. “are you sure this is the best way to handle this? i mean, fake dating me? that’s… kind of extreme. and honestly, batshit crazy.” 

you shake your head at him. you’ll pretty much do anything to get away from billie right now, and this seemed like the only option. you’d much rather do this with oliver, someone you know and trust, rather than some random, icky dude in one of your classes. 

“i don’t have any other options, oliver, please. i just need you to do this for me. just for a little while. you’re the only person i can trust to help me with this.”

he sighs, and you can tell that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he’ll roll with it just to help you out. he takes a good look at you, weighing your request. and finally, he speaks up, “a-all right. i’ll do it.” 

relief washes over you as you sit up even straighter, a lazy grin on your face as you nod at him.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with gratitude, “thank you so much.”

“yeah yeah, whatever.” he laughs gently, but his tone firm, “but— you’re going to have to tell me everything. the whole story. no leaving anything out. you need to at least tell me what’s going on if i’m going to be your new boyfriend.” 

you nod, “okay, yeah. um…i’ll tell you everything.”

“good,” he says, and then you start. 

well, you try to. but the car is too quiet, the only sound that’s audible is the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of oliver shifting in his seat. you sit there, staring out the window as cars flash by, headlights and flashing colors streaking the glass like a kaleidoscope. everything outside feels distant, unreal, like you’re a side character in your own movie. 

“you good?” oliver’s voice breaks through the silence, soft but firm. it’s not the first time he’s asked, but this time, there’s something heavier in his tone. you can tell he’s a little worried, and you really don’t want to stress him out, so you nod, though it’s everything but true. 

you shift uncomfortably, your hands twisting in your lap. you’re not good. you don’t even know what you are right now. all you know is that your chest feels tight, and the words sitting on your tongue are heavy, weighted down by years of fear and uncertainty.

“i told you what happened,” you mumble out, “why do you keep asking?”

“because i don’t think you’ve told me everything,” he says, glancing at you, “i mean, yeah, you told me about billie and the fight, but… there’s more, isn’t there? you wouldn’t be this upset if there wasn’t. so, let me hear it.” 

you swallow hard, your throat dry as you try to push the lump down. he’s right— of course, he’s right. oliver always sees through you, always knows when you’re holding back. you don’t know why you thought you could avoid this. 

“ollie,” you start, your voice trembling. you pause, unsure if you can even do this, but then his gaze flicks to you again, patient and steady, and it’s enough to nudge you forward, “i need to tell you something. something… kind of big.”

he straightens a little in his seat, his brows furrowing in concern. he’s kind of scared, because based off of the events of tonight, he has no idea what you would have in store. but he just nods, trying to keep enough cool for the two of you, “okay. i’m listening.”

your hands are shaking now, and you clasp them tightly together, trying to keep yourself steady. you take a deep breath, “okay…um…i’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time, and honestly, i’ve been scared to say it out loud. so…um…i’m—?”

he doesn’t say anything, just waits, his expression soft but focused. he’s looking at you like he’s ready to hear what’s next, and you swallow thickly, looking out the window, and then at your hands. 

“i-i’m a lesbian, oliver.”

it goes awkwardly quiet. for a moment, the only sound is your own breathing, shaky and uneven, as the weight of your confession hangs in the air. you kind of feel like you shouldn’t have said it, but it’s too late— so you just wait impatiently for him to speak. 

“oh,” oliver says finally, his voice quiet, like he’s processing. and then, a little louder, “oh. well, okay.”

you glance at him, your stomach twisting with anxiety. what the hell did he mean ‘well, okay?’ was this a bad idea? should you have kept it quiet? 

“ollie…w-what? just okay?”

“yeah,” he says, and there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now. he leans up against the arm rest to get a good look at you, “okay. i mean, what do you want me to say? ‘oh shit, i never knew!’ like, it’s not like this changes how i feel about you or anything. you’re still you, y/n.”

his words hit you like a wave, but you can’t help but offer up a hearty laugh, even though there are tears streaming down your heated face. oliver disregards your laughter, though— he’s more worried about your ever flowing tears that haven’t seemed to fade since he picked you up. 

“hey, hey,” oliver says quickly, his hands hovering awkwardly like he wants to comfort you but he doesn’t know how, “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you manage to get out between shaky breaths, “i just… i’ve been so scared to tell anyone. i thought maybe you’d… i don’t know, look at me differently or something. i don’t even know why i thought that, considering— yeah. but…”

“girl,” he interrupts gently, laughter laced in his tone, “i really don’t care who you like. as long as they’re treating you good, that isn’t my concern at all. you’re still my best friend, and that’s never gonna change. you hear me?”

you nod, sniffling as you wipe at your face. “yeah. i hear you.”

he smiles, soft and reassuring. “good. now, is there anything else you need to get off your chest? because i’m already pulled over, so we might as well make this a full therapy session.” 

you laugh weakly, the sound broken but genuine, and shake your head, “no, that’s… that’s it for now. promise.” 

“all right,” oliver says, “so, let’s get you home, yeah? you’ve had a long night.”

you nod at him, returning to the refuge of your comfy spot in the backseat, your limbs stretched out and weary as you steady your breathing. 

as he pulls back onto the road, you lean back in your seat, the weight on your chest a little lighter now. for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, like everything is setting in stone. 

୨ৎ

by the time you get home, the weight of the night feels like it’s pressing into your bones, leaving you heavy and raw. you sit up on your seat as oliver wakes you, rubbing your eyes gently, “home?”

“yeah, c’mon.” he states, grabbing your bag for you and opening your door as you step into the night. it’s cold outside, and you wrap your jacket tighter around you, facing oliver and reaching out to take your bag, “thank you for taking me home. and…for everything. you didn’t have to do that.”

“no, but i wanted to,” he gives you a warm smile, “you can always talk to me. always.”

you nod as he hands you your bag, and you sling it over your shoulder as you start to walk back to your dorm. you expect to go alone, but oliver follows, insisting on walking you to your door. and you’re too drained to argue, so you let him, your legs feeling wobbly as you climb the steps to your room, his hand hovering behind your back like a safety net.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, for what feels like the tenth time, but you know that he’s being sincere. 

you pause with your key halfway to the lock, turning to look at him. his eyes are wide and concerned, and you can see the way he’s itching to say more, to fix something. you give him a tired smile, “i’ll be fine, ollie. seriously. i just need to sleep this off, for real.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway, “if you insist. if you need anything— like, anything at all— just call me, okay? no matter what time, you know i’ll be up.”

“okay,” you promise, though you know you probably won’t. you weren’t exactly fond of the idea of using oliver as your night-time therapist, although he swore up and down it was okay. you just nod with a lazy smile, waiting for him to bid you goodbye.

he hesitates for a moment longer before finally stepping back, “well, goodnight, y/n. i love you, if you need something, just holler. and… hey, you’re brave as hell, you know that?”

he pulls you into a gentle hug before he goes, giving you a small kiss to your forehead. it’s got no romantic context behind it— oliver had always been the type to be affectionate towards you when you were down, or vulnerable. plus, he laughs afterward, and you know it’s because of your whole ‘fake dating’ ordeal, which makes you laugh, too. 

you watch as he leaves, making sure that he gets to his car safe. and when he waves at you and speeds off, you twist the doorknob into your dorm, stepping inside.

it’s is dark when you enter, save for the faint glow of a lamp in the living room and emma’s bedroom’s light that shines underneath her closed door. sometimes, she’d forget to turn it off before she fell asleep, so you figured that’s why it was on. 

you shut the door softly behind you, your bag slipping off your shoulder and landing on the floor with a dull thud. the silence feels different— heavy, almost suffocating, but you push it aside, determined to jump into your bed and finally go to sleep. 

“so, you’re back.” a voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and pointed.

you freeze, your breath catching as you turn to see emma standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

so she wasn’t in her bedroom. or, asleep.

her arms are crossed over her chest, her red hair pulled into a messy bun, and she’s clad in one of your victoria’s secret sweatshirts and a pair of red sleeping shorts. her expression is unreadable— somewhere between anger and concern, and you really hope it’s the second one.

“emma,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, but she cuts you off almost immediately.

“do you have any idea how worried i was?” she snaps, stepping closer, “you didn’t answer my texts, my calls— nothing. and then— this shit is what blew me— oliver calls me, telling me you’re drunk at some bar? what the hell, y/n?”

your stomach twists with guilt, and you look down at your feet. “i’m sorry,” is all you can mumble. you’re honestly too tired and too drunk to deal with emma’s shenanigans tonight.

“sorry?” she repeats, her voice rising. her arms are flailing everywhere, her curly hair bouncing, and it’s clear that she’s more angry than you thought, “that’s all you have to say? you disappear for hours, get drunk off your ass, and pick a fight with billie— yeah, oliver told me about that part too— and all you can say is sorry?”

“i didn’t mean for it to get that bad,” you say, your voice cracking, “i just… i don’t know, okay? everything’s been so overwhelming, and i—”

“and you what?” she interrupts, her eyes narrowing, “decided to self-destruct instead of talking to me? i’m your best friend, y/n. you’re supposed to come to me when you’re struggling, not push me away.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and tears spring to your eyes before you can stop them. you were sick of crying— it’s like that’s all you’ve doing recently, but you can’t stop it. 

“emma, you were the one that was being distant from me, so i just gave you space. i didn’t know how to tell you, okay?” you cry, your voice shattering, “i didn’t know how to tell you that i’m falling apart, that i feel like i’m losing myself. i didn’t know how to tell you that i kissed billie and freaked out because… because—”

you choke on the words, your chest heaving as the tears spill over. emma’s expression softens instantly, the anger draining from her face as she steps closer. when she sees you break, it’s like she can’t even be mad at you anymore, and she rushes over to you, grabbing your shoulders softly.

“hey, hey,” she says gently, “it’s okay. you don’t have to say it all right now. just… breathe, okay? i’m sorry that i was angry with you. i understand…i was just worried. but i’m here.”

you nod shakily, trying to get your breathing under control. emma guides you to the couch, sitting beside you and waiting patiently as you wipe at your face with trembling hands.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper again, your voice small.

“stop apologizing,” she says, shaking her head at you, “i’m not mad anymore. i just… i want to understand what’s going on with you.”

you hesitate, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweater. “i told oliver tonight…that i’m….”

“you are?”

you breathe in. you weren’t really expecting to tell emma this soon— you honestly didn’t mean to tell oliver either, but you were here now, and you might as well tell your own best friend this secret that was haunting you. 

“i’m…” you huff, looking down at your hands, “i’m a lesbian, em.”

emma doesn’t react right away, just tilts her head slightly as she processes your words, resting her chin into her hands as she looks at you with sweet, sparkling eyes, “okay,” she says slowly, “and… how do you feel about that? about saying it out loud? i mean— really, y/n, this is not a surprise, i think you know that.”

you laugh, “yeah. but…just thought i should let you know what’s going on with me.”

“uh huh,” she hums, a smile glued to her face, “i’m proud of you. this is a big step, honey! so tell me, how are you feeling?”

“scared,” you admit, giggling softly, “but also… relieved, in a way? like I’m finally being honest with myself. but it’s complicated. billie— she made me feel things i didn’t know how to handle, and then everything spiraled, and i just…i liked her. i’ll admit it, but— i-i can’t. i have too much to deal with, and i’m still not really all that comfortable with what i’m feeling. but it’s too late, so whatever…”

emma reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly, “babe, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight. it’s okay to take your time. but you’re not alone in this, okay? i’m here, and so is oliver. we’ve got you. just, focus on what you need to focus on. see what happens— but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. you’re smart, and i guarantee you that you’ll figure this thing out, alright?”

emma’s words are a balm to your aching heart, and you nod, leaning into her shoulder as exhaustion starts to take over. she pulls you tighter into her side, giving you a light squeeze as you both sit there for a second, basking in comfortable silence.

“thanks, em,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut.

“always,” she whispers, running a hand gently over your hair, “have you told jules and naomi yet?”

you shake your head gently, still resting on emma’s shoulder, “nope. i haven’t really talked with them all that much, but it’ll come when it comes. i don’t really feel like dealing with all this at the moment. i’m just trying to make sure of my own feelings, first. y’know?”

emma takes a deep breath, nodding at your words, but she doesn’t say anything, which you appreciate. she could tell that all you needed was a little acknowledgement, and your heart smiles at that. 

after a few more minutes of talking, you find yourself in your room, slipped underneath the covers as emma laid next to you, scrolling on her phone. now that you were home, she insisted that she keep you company until you sleep, just incase you needed to talk. 

you hadn’t told her about the fake dating with oliver, but it seemed irrelevant right now, so you’d just save it for later. 

you spend your last waking moments thinking. you felt warm at first, finally getting everything out into the air, but now you felt like you were swarming with guilt. was this what God wanted? was He frowning down at you, disappointed and confused?

but you couldn’t think about that right now, or you’d start to downward spiral again. so you just squeeze your eyes shut, attempting to finally rest.

and then, just as sleep is about to fully claim you, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, the sound jarring in the stillness. emma reaches for it, frowning as she glances at the screen.

“y/n,” she says, her voice tense.

you force your eyes open, groggy and confused, “huh? what is it?”

she holds the phone out to you, and your stomach drops when you see the name flashing across the screen.

it’s billie.

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[xlibra-rising]

☾Water Moon Rant☽

Why does no one talk about how much Water moons hide their emotions??? I've noticed we usually are very reclusive when we want to cry, we usually do it in private. I think we emotionally mask a lot, especially Cancer moons and Scorpio moons.

IMO fire moons are the most emotional and dramatic with their feelings, especially when they have a lot of water in their chart. Fire moons can misunderstand water moons a lot of the time though as we are more shy with our sentiments and they often try and break us out of it extensively.

But water moons are proficient at displaying their feelings through art and their skills. It's like they put their true emotions on a blank slate because they can't express them through words but rather as feelings, so this where their immense creativity skills lie.

Emotional doesn't have to mean sad and depressed, but it can also mean when you are really happy, you're really happy and when you're really sad, you're at the depths of Mariana Trench. Water moon isn't cry on an instinct usually, it implies that when you get to that high point, you let it all out.

I have a Cancer moon in the 9th house. I don't cry that much, but i get emotional about things. a little too often. It's like i think i'm too sensitive??? idk. But with my 9th house, i usually resort to what i'm doing right now (astrology and divination) as a coping mechanism kind of. I care too much about a lot of things and yes i am diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder lol.

I have a difficult relationship w/ my mother as a Cancer moon, so i did not get the caring and nurturing mother archetype of it. She is a Leo moon and she is more dramatic w/ her emotions than me. I feel like i had to take care of her rather than she had to take care of me. She also seems much younger emotionally than any other mom i have met.

[nyacchiiatos]

my issue with littlest pet shop: a world of our own

hi! as you can see i have a bone to pick with this show, but i'm going to be criticizing the overall premise rather than individual episodes (i can't bring myself to watch any). nothing exactly provoked me to post this, it's just something i felt like ranting about because i always found it pretty strange and sort of like a slap in the face towards those who liked the 2012 series. very long post incoming 😭

first of all, the entire concept of AWOOO (im going to refer to it as that because the title is way too annoying to type out each time) in context of lps' brand as a whole doesn't make sense. hasbro refers to it (in a backhanded way to jab at 2012) as "a pet-only world made by pets, for pets." this premise alone is contradictory to the entire lps brand. it's called littlest pet shop, not littlest animal universe. the 2012 show made this work by having an actual pet shop with a daycamp area like you would expect irl. yes, the show had humans which i agree sometimes took over a bit too much, but it's meant to be a city-based slice of life cartoon. the main cast are actual pets, they have owners, they have their own homes, like any pet irl would. that's... why they're called pets. whatever AWOOO was trying to achieve just completely defeats the purpose of a pet shop existing. i have no doubt in my mind that hasbro felt so inclined to sweep 2012 under the rug by rushing this half-assed reboot out as fast as they could to satiate all the "bring back the old lps" commenters. there was literally nowhere online you could view content of the 2012 series in ANY site, without the comments being FLOODED with "bring back the old lps." it got to a point where fans were borderline harassing the hasbro employees, recording themselves calling them on the phone for views and clout, and encouraging others to do the same. and guess what? it worked. instead of continuing working on the show while easily selling toys that fans were more in favor of, hasbro thought it would be a better idea to just completely abandon 2012 as a whole and then proceed to act like it never even existed. there was no good reason for them to not continue producing the show (iirc it had pretty good ratings and was one of the most popular hub shows next to mlp ofc) while also selling toys that would cater to both newer and older fans (granted they probably can't sell multiple generations at a time, but still). so ultimately, they hurried this little reboot to get it out there as fast as they could and passively shit on 2012 while talking about its premise. seriously? "no humans getting in the way anymore! we have a WHOLE NEW lps cast with no big headed humans named blythe or her ugly friends! no more communication barriers, because thats no fun! isnt this show just SO much better than 2012?" they were so ready to just throw the 2012 series and everything related to it in the trash. AWOOO was not made out of love and respect. it was made as a way for hasbro to try and get their fans back by proving just how much better this reboot was in such non-discrete manners. they thought of the quickest and easiest way to regain their audience and ran with it, without ever thinking about how it completely diminishes what all the previous generations stood for.

i was one of the very few people who loved the 2012 lps series since it premiered. being a child on the internet in the early 2010s definitely brought down my happiness when watching the show because of the overwhelming negative feedback it was getting along with the rebrand in general (something im VERY nostalgic for). regardless, i continued to tune in whenever it was on tv and i saw myself growing up with the characters. to say that this show had potential is an understatement. the producers intended to make more seasons and you just knew they wanted to keep it going (this was confirmed btw). they weren't in a hurry to get something better out there, until the "bring back the old lps"ers finally got their way. but honestly? it's not completely unheard of for large companies to eventually cave in to the public opinion if it means they'll make more profit. they were desperate, and it was definitely showing.

one of the things i have the most issues with is how hasbro proceeds to COMPLETELY ignore everything regarding the show nowadays. as some of you know the show's 10th anniversary was last november, which i and many people had participated in a large art collab to celebrate and honor the show's legacy. want to know what hasbro did to celebrate? nothing. absolutely nothing. what's even worse is that michael kopsa, the voice of roger, had passed away very shortly before the shows 10th anniversary. and guess what? complete silence. that's just incredibly disrespectful to be completely honest. someone who brought his best work to your show and others on the same network (if im remembering correctly at least) and was such a joy to be around, and this is how you thank him? not a single piece of acknowledgement, all because you're too scared to ever talk about 2012 again because of the scary older fans that persuaded you to pull the plug on the whole thing? you weren't even willing to make one little post offering your condolences? oh because you just can't ever mention that show ever again, it'll spark those negative comments just like before. and you've made it abundantly clear that you care more about profiting off these people than having some kind of self awareness.

i apologize that this got so heavy, i've always wanted to properly write down my honest thoughts about this whole thing because ive been unhappy with it for years and years now. if you like AWOOO, i don't care. i wont give you a hard time for liking it, because the show itself isnt inherently bad. just what went on behind it is what bothers me so much. the fact that hasbro can completely ignore their own creation for what... 7 years now? is beyond my comprehension. they can keep pretending it never existed, but small groups of people online have been rediscovering this show and remembering how much they loved it when they were younger. you had a good thing going here hasbro, it sucks that you had to completely abandon it. but i think i can speak for a few people that this show has always and will always hold a special place in my heart and my childhood memories. even if we can't get more from it, we shouldn't forget to appreciate and cherish what we did get. and nobody can take that away.

[thebuttsmcgee]

Man. I just get so actually legitimately sad each time I remember that toh ended and that we live in the post-toh world. Like it really is over.

Ms Dana Terrace has said that she'd like to do more given the chance (and after some quality time off of bigger projects, just to chill), but as far as we know, it's the end.

Heck, we barely got anything after the final episode, no books, no special merch, no dedicated little chibi shorts, nothing really, aside from the, thankfully fun, get-togethers of the cast and crew!

Idk. Ah well actually nah, I do know, that this show just meant an enormous lot to me. Incredibly huge, the kind that you can't break away from and wouldn't want to anyway. The kind that feels like, man, where would I be without it.

Happy 1 Year, to the end of The Owl House. Thank you, The Owl House.

I hope the future is bright, for all of us.

[party-lemon]

It's hard to believe that there was a time before the reunion show. Or even the announcement of it. There was a time when My Chemical Romance was broken up, and there was nothing new to do with them, no live blogging concerts or Gerard in dresses or live streams late at night. That feels so foreign and like such a long time ago now

[kenzan-kiwami]

to be completely frank i think most of the people i've seen with major complaints regarding RGG 8's story are forgetting that 99% of what they're saying can be applied across the whole series

[sondersil]

i have no idea what happened or how it happened, but i can finally play bar chords!!!!!

i am so fucking excited. i know it's nothing special but this is a big deal for me because my fingers are short and that shit is painful, but i can actually sound the chords!! and i can switch to them with relative ease, too!

i'm going to be an absolute fucking menace now that half of the songs i want to play are actually playable for me, ha. hahahahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHA.

[todayisafridaynight]

I genuinely can never thank you enough for the past year. I can't express how much it's meant to me to be understood and have my energy reciprocated with someone on the same wavelength. Although I've been in the fandom for quite a bit longer than most people writing in, and longer than you, even, I can't remember the last time I felt this welcome and motivated. A TRULY embarrassing amount of my work's just been fueled by "oh Snap's gonna wanna see that," and of course that circle's expanded since then, but it probably wouldn't have had I not met stream chat through you, aaaaaand if I'm honest you're still up there... lol...

It's always, always a highlight of my day to see your your work, your posts, and your responses, whether they're to me or to others, and it's always a highlight of my week to be able to make it to streams! You're a huge inspiration for me, particularly in terms of your work ethic across the board. I always come out of streams energized and feeling like I can actually finish things, and usually this is hubris, but it's gotta count for something.

Not to be dramatic, but you kinda changed my life, no exaggeration. I still really can't see myself the way I was two or three years ago not just calling it quits after some of my Gaiden experiences... lol... but I'm still around, and like always, I wanna be able to write in and interact as much as I used to sometime soon. Thanks for everything! I hope RGGS continues to deliver so we can stay in touch :3

i cant thank YOOOOU enough for the past Xsome months or so. feelins ABSOLUTELY mutual in that i wasnt sure anyone else would really be into talkin bout rgg as you and i have (or would be willing to read my. miles-long scrolls of bullshit LMAO) so it's been real fun gettin to know you an everyone and chattin !!

most bafflin thin to ever to think i have good work ethic, i feel like ive been behind everyone for the past couple weeks and even with the things i do make it's really not up to snuff. it's always nice to hear that's not supposedly exactly the case :) I Suppose :^)

rgg community (like any community lbr) can be. An Experience, esp for someone with a position like yours. so im glad i can make it worth to hang around somewhat LOL

regardless, i always look forward to you next ask or the next time you leave tags on a post i make. if i ever bother making a post again ☠️☠️

[xcziel]

wow they decided to copy yoongi almost exactly: concert lovefest for army and then dip

[kummatty]

back home . this weekend was driving 12 hrs to redacted, getting ready in a rush in full langa voni (half sari) jewelry bangles etc in the hotel (probably took us 2 hrs bc hello), attending my cousins engagement party from 6-11, getting back changing repacking going to bed at 1am, waking up at 7 getting ready and driving 12 hrs back

[cutemeat]

@nightcrawlerzincorporated Exactly the point i was making with this post thank u 🥹💛

Season 6 // Season 16

[bakuraryxu]

also for what its worth clothing the gap should have more mob only designs... .. . bc stuff i want is always outta stock

[rafesangelita]

୨ৎ omg i need pogue!sweetheart!reader meeting ward and the family

warnings: rafe and ward have a good relationship, both reader and ward are a nervous mess lol, playful banter, found family

a/n: you could consider this a continuation of the fic i did w/ pogue!sweetheart!reader and rafe’s first time together!

“do you think i should’ve made blueberry instead?” rafe looked down at the freshly baked pie in his hands, both of you waiting for someone to open the front door. rafe could sense you were nervous by the way you were fiddling with your necklace. “apple is perfect.” he leaned down, pecking your temple. smiling down at you, rafe muttered a ‘don’t worry, they’re gonna love you.’ before rose appeared behind the door.

“y/n!” she squealed excitedly, briefly looking over at rafe before raising her eyebrows at him, “well, she’s absolutely beautiful, but we knew that already.” she laughed, welcoming both of you inside. “oh, god, your dad has been out on that grill all day, he insisted on making his ‘famous’ burgers since you mentioned y/n hasn’t found her favorite yet.” you nearly cried at the sentiment, a pout forming on your lips.

“aww, that’s so sweet of him..” rose led you two outside to the back, rafe squeezing your hand once his father came into view. “ward? she’s here, honey.” rafe laughed at the sight of his dad scrambling to clean his hands, his head shooting up in your direction. “hey, there!” he walked up to you, taking your hand in his. “hi, mr. cameron.” you smiled, your heart beating in your ears. “oh- please, call me ward.” rafe watched you two introduce yourselves with a grin on his face.

after you and rafe got settled in your seats and wheezie practically tackled you with a hug, your nerves melted away and you couldn’t help but feel ridiculous for feeling nervous at all. “wow, this looks amazing.” you laughed as ward placed your plate in front of you. “alright, moment of truth, tell me what you think.” all eyes were on you as you took a bite. “it’s not that good..” you watched ward’s smile fall, “because it’s amazing!”

everyone yelled, ward sighing in relief as you took another bite. “did i get you?” you got up, embracing ward’s back before you patted his shoulder. “uh, yeah! i was one second away from just ordering pizza.” he laughed. rafe’s heart felt full as he watched you get comfortable with his family. once everyone was seated and in smooth conversation, the evening went by quicker than you expected. “shall we cut this pie? i’ve had my eye on it since you two got here.”

you nodded, rose motioning you to follow her inside for a knife. ward waited until you were out of earshot before he got his son’s attention. “she’s lovely, rafe. very funny too.” rafe smiled, leaning forward in his seat. “yeah, i don’t know what she see’s in you.” sarah joked. rafe moved his attention towards you and rose in the kitchen. “you should’ve seen how nervous she was coming here.” rafe shook his head. at this, ward scoffed.

“y/n was nervous? this is the first girl you bring home, i mean- i was the nervous one. rose had to stop me from changing my outfit for the third time this morning.” rafe stifled a laugh. “and you thought a suit and tie was appropriate for some burgers in the backyard?” ward took a sip from the beer in his hand. “don’t be a smart ass.”

you, rose, and wheezie came back out with a cake knife and some paper plates in your hands, rafe smiling at you as you cut into the pie. “anyone wanna take a guess at what flavor it is?” you looked around. “i say cherry!” wheezie adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “blueberry is my favorite so i’ll go with that.” at wards’s words, your eyes widened in rafe’s direction. “i knew i should’ve made that one!”

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[tangents-within-tangents]

Echo canonically being sentimental (and a sweetheart)

With his armor, there's also the "For Hevy" memorial, the fact he kept Rex's handprint, and that he put the Bad Batch skull on his armor before he even joined them

Echo holding 99 as he died has always stuck out to me as one of the saddest/sweetest things in TCW (especially since the show rarely actually shows clones mourning/expressing much emotion)

I also noticed that Echo is often the one to mention his brothers by name, and make sure they're remembered. And of course his entire thing about saving his brothers and leaving no one behind. (Also that he turned the call signs into this like nickname/inside joke thing with Omega is so adorable to me ahh)

--

And then there's whatever this is:

Not even a reaction to the name (and we know they are good at implying expression under those helmets)! I know this is old news but it bears saying lol. They had the perfect opportunity here to not only address Echo's loss, but also to honor Fives and the sacrifice he made to discover the chips. A sacrifice which saved Ahsoka, Rex, and now the Bad Batch. This is obviously not the first time Echo and Rex talked about Fives, he knows he's dead (I firmly believe he would not have left the 501st if Fives was still alive), but come on! This did the bare minimum to check the box of 'mention Fives.' How about you cut Wrecker getting attacked by a sarlacc or whatever and give that screen time to show us an actual conversation?

Like I found this bit in an interview:

While the conversation obviously never happened onscreen, Corbett says that doesn't mean it never happened, suggesting the two talked offscreen, saying "For Fives, I imagine that Rex and Echo had that conversation after he was rescued off of Skako Minor, and I know in Season 1 we did have Rex reference Fives on Bracca," adding "So, in my headcanon, they've had many conversations about Fives."

And I'm just like... Jennifer! You don't have to have headcanons, you are literally the writer! Show us!!

(Also he should have gotten his handprint again no I will never let this go)

[tojisth3rdwife]

Part 2

a/n: this one is probably 40% smut parts here. Pregnant sex is the bees knees, speaking from experience. A 💋 will mark where it starts and ends in case you want to skip it. There will definitely be a part 3 lol

BabyDaddyToji was enjoying your pregnancy more than you were.

For starters, and not to be crude but the sex was unmatched. Toji had a thing for cumming inside of you raw before but now?? With the only motivation not to no longer being relevent, there wasnt a day where Toji didnt want to be inside of you.

Granted, he wasnt jumping your bones 24/7. Especially in the beginning. He let you set the tone for that based on your mood. And it was rough in that first trimester. It seemed like as soon as you confirmed the pregnancy , every symptom in the book hit your ass like a mack truck.

You slept majority of the day.

You spent many mornings, afternoons and evenings face down in the toilet.

Your mood was unpredictable, although you did your best not to crash out and frighten Megumi or take it out on Toji.

Even when you did, Toji didnt take it personally.

You’d been snippy with him all night over the smallest things.

He closed the door too loudly when he came in the bedroom, not helping your hormonal headache whatsoever. When he asked you how you were feeling, it was returned with an attitudinal “How the fuck do you think I feel? I cant eat. Im always tired. My back hurts. My head hurts. The dog’s wont stop barking..” you trailed off. Toji approaches where you were now sitting up at the edge of the bed, bent over with your face in your hands.

You were a mess. Your hair. Your skin. You just felt gross and overly emotional, something that was so unlike you. Toji knew it, but unlike you, he at least understood why.

The tears were already flowing by the time he joined you on the bed, reaching for your hands to pull away from your face.

“N-no Toji....” you sniffled, attempting to hide yourself from Toji as he gripped your wrists gently. He smiled as you fought against his strength pointlessly , and he pulls you into him for a hug he knew you needed.

Mind you, Toji was far from perfect. There were plenty of times when he didn’t know how to comfort you or the right thing to say at the right time. But being with you over the years improved his sense of compassion and empathy towards others, meaning you were no exception.

Toji rubbed your lower back, pulling your body as close as he could.

“Im sorry, baby. Seems like today is kicking your ass..” he says with his lips in your messy hair. You chuckle dryly at the sentiment, sniffing back the snot threatening to dribble from your nose.

“Yeah.” You sigh. Toji hums against your crown, slipping his fingers under the elastic waistband of your leggings. Not in a suggestive or sexual manner, just to hold you better. He sat with you for a few seconds in silence before asking you if you wanted him to get out so you could rest.

“No…” you mutter, clutching his t-shirt. You gave in to his embrace and nuzzled his chest, your breath stuttering from the sudden rush of emotions. Toji smirks.

You were so cute when your were stubborn.

In other news…

Your body was gradually changing. Too much in appearance , although your tits were gigantic now, but more in how you felt and responded to your environment.

For starters, nothing tasted or smelled the same, in good and bad ways alike.

The smell of cooking/ grilled meats? ❌

The scent of certain cleaning products and laundry detergents?✅

Megumi’s dogs? (Although you still loved them to pieces) ❌

The sweet and savory combo of pizza and strawberry toaster strudels stacked on top of eachother with the frosting and marinara sauce melding together? ✅

The smell of Toji’s favorite instant ramen? ❌

Eggs? ❌

Yogurt? ❌

Chocolate? ❌

The scent of anything Toji related? His cologne? His after shave? His sweaty shirts straight from the gym? ✅✅✅

But despite all of that, especially once the sickness and exhaustion began to taper out as you entered the 2nd trimester, you were horny.

Like VERY horny, tracking back to the opening statement..

And fuck, Toji loved it.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

He’d barely made it inside after returning from dropping Megumi off at school before your hands were at his belt.

“Whoa..” Toji’s brows shot up as well as his hands when you made quick work of undoing his pants and pulling his dick out. He wasnt even hard yet and he still felt heavy in your hand as you stroked him slowly.

Lips at his neck and your other hand pushing his shirt up, you mumbled against his skin.

“I want you so bad it hurts..”

And it did. The spike in hormones, coupled with the increased blood flow down there made everything feel 10 times more intense. All Toji had to do was kiss you and you felt your inner thighs become slippery against each other from his wet you were. After a simple ‘brb’ smooch on his way out the door to take Megs, your clit was engorged and your gummy walls clenched in need of him.

You tried rubbing one out but you were too frustrated to get yourself there.

You needed release.

You needed him in the worst way.

Toji groaned as your expert touch had his dick jumping and swelling to life with every stroke of your hand.

“Hurts?” He frowns at your choice of words. You paused trying to undress him to take Toji’s hand and guide under your large sleep shirt to cup your sex. You had soaked through the fabric of your panties and just Toji’s touch had your walls pulsing.

“Fuck..” he exhaled,taking the initiative to rub your puffy clothed lips as if to sooth you. But all it did was rile you up even more.

“See?” You whimper and Toji cusses under his breath again.

“Shit, babe…How are you always this fucking wet? Hmm?” He tilts his head, now the one taking the reigns.

“Toji..” your breath hitched, breaking and stalling as the rough pads of his fingers rubbed yiur clothed pussy. His fingers found tiny hill of your clit pressing through your panties and he circles it slowly. You gripped his flexing forearm desperately, breathy moans leaving you as your back collides with the wall adjacent to the front door, with Toji’s height eclipsing you in his shadow. He speeds up his antics, all while pressing his lips to your pulse in a gentle kiss.

By the way you keened in his ear, Toji was sure of one thing.

“Gonna cum right here? Right now?” He asks, strumming his middle and index over your civered clit faster. You nod with you mouth agape, digging your nails into Toji’s arm.

“Yesyesyesyesyesbabyplease..fuck..”

Your knees buckled as the wave of pleasure washed over you, a gush of slick staining the your underwear. Anyone walking by outside definitely heard your cry of ecstasy, but Toji never gave a damn about his neighbors.

“Shit..c’mere” he pulls you towards him by the throat for a sloppy breathless kiss, licking into your mouth and catching every moan off your tongue as he rubs your sensitive folds over your drenched panties.

Without warning, Toji picks you up like you weigh nothing to carry you in the room, tossing you on the bed to fuck the ache out of your pussy until it was damn near time for Megumi to get out of school.

But as you began to show around week 14-15, Toji was more mindful of how he handled your body. You assured him that you could take it and encouraged him to go harder, but it was pointless. He was just too damn big and you seemed way too fragile to be bent in half and pounded the way he used to.

The tenderness was welcomed in exchange though..

As much as you loved your belly, you hated how it blocked your view of Toji eating you out. Watching his tongue glide over your puffy lips and clit made you even wetter and Toji lapped it straight from the source. He groaned at the taste of you. Not that he didnt love your pussy’s flavor before you were pregnant but there was something more intense about it now. Even your scent was more potent and addicting, having him thinking about burrying his face between your legs all damn day.

Toji ate your pussy like his life depended on it, swirling his tongue over the hood of your clit and flicking its underside in the way he knew would make you shake.

“Mmmhmm” he moaned against you, hugging your thighs and caressing your baby bump affectionately.

You’d attempted to crane your neck to get a glimpse of what he was doing in the beginning but now you just surrendered to the fact that you wouldnt be seeing anything down there without a mirror for a while.

That was ok though.

Allowing yourself to focus only on what Toji’s lips and tongue did to you made cumming on his face most enjoyable for the both of you.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

“Are you ready to know the sex?” your doctor asks from behind the monitor. You glance at her in surprise, even though you knew the question was coming.

Toji hated that he couldnt be there and damn near walked out on a job if you hadnt convinced him to stay and focus.

But you really wished he was here.

“Could you write it down and put it in an envelope for me?” you asked, doing your best to keep your gaze from traveling over to the big mounted screen on the wall, and your doctor obliged.

That way when you took it to the bakery and asked them to pipe the corresponding color frosting in a pre made jumbo cupcake, it would be a surprise both you and Toji could share.

Taglist: @queendessi24 , @xllizs, @whoreforjjkmen , @hellokittyloverrxox .

Part 1 <<<<<

Part 3 (soon)

The Fushiguro’s <<<<<