#i don’t actually have a problem with either of them

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Slicked Back & Smitten

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, spicy, wlw smut, mirror sex, Paige's biceps, paige fucking you while having you in a headlock, !top paige, !bottom reader, light oral (fem reseving), !purple strap Paige, !slick back ponytail P (yes this deserves a warning), fluff

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Fandom: Uconn's Women's basketbal

Summary: Slicked Back ponytail P... and she's swollen in the right places too... oh you're down bad baby

Tag: @elliesglock , @elalfywhore , @paxaz535

The morning of the UConn vs. Butler game was absolute chaos. With a 1 p.m. tip-off, I had been up at the ass crack of dawn, running errands before heading to the arena. Meanwhile, Paige was at home, usually getting her game day braids done by Kayla—her routine, her thing.

Except today, Kayla couldn’t do them she was getting over being sick, didn't wanna risk Paige getting sick.

And I? I was too busy being the responsible, errand-running girlfriend to even offer to do them myself.

So, Paige had to figure something out.

By the time I arrived at the arena, the team was already warming up. I greeted a few of the staff members before spotting Kayla on the sidelines, watching the girls get their final shots up before tip-off.

"Did you see what she did?" Kayla asked as I approached.

I was confused. "Who?"

Kayla gave me a look. "Your girlfriend."

I turned my head, scanning the court until my eyes landed on Paige in her love, Abby warm up. And, oh, did my jaw practically drop.

Instead of her signature game day braids, she had done a sleek middle-part ponytail. The gel, the clean parting, the way the ponytail laid so perfectly down her back—it was… different. It was… distracting.

I bit the inside of my cheek, shifting on my feet. "Yeah… I see her."

Kayla snickered, nudging me. "She look good, huh?"

I exhaled sharply, eyes still glued to Paige as she moved across the court, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me. The slick back? The way it emphasized her face, her jawline, her everything? Yeah, it was bad for me.

"Kayla," I started, voice low. "I don’t think you should do her braids next game either."

Kayla howled. "Oh, nah, you down bad!"

I rolled my eyes, pretending like I wasn’t already making plans to personally ensure Paige never wore braids again.

———

The first half of the game was a problem.

Paige was playing out of her mind. She was dropping dimes, hitting threes, getting to the basket with ease—and she looked damn good doing it.

I was trying to focus on the actual game, trying not to be the most obvious girlfriend ever, but every time she drove to the rim, her ponytail swung just right, her edges still perfectly laid despite how much she was sweating.

It was a crisis.

By halftime, I had reached my breaking point.

Sitting in the stands, I pulled my phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as I sent a text Paige wouldn’t see until later.

Me: You need to put me in a headlock when we get back home.

Me: And I need you to consider this slick back ponytail as your new game day hair. Like… permanently.

I hit send, exhaling as I locked my phone. Out of sight, out of mind. I just needed to get through the rest of the game without combusting.

———

Paige didn’t see the message until hours later.

After the game, she had her usual post-game press conference, with Kk and Azzii answering questions about UConn’s dominant win, her own performance, and how it felt playing without her signature braids.

Then came the locker room celebrations, the team hyping each other up, the post-game shower, and finally—finally—Paige was back at our shared off-campus apartment.

Freshly showered, she walked into the bedroom with a towel around her neck, only in her black Nike sports bra and grey boxers sitting perfectly on her waist line, scrolling through her phone finally checking all her notifications.

I was sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly myself, until I saw her pause.

Her head tilted. "What the hell?"

I tried to act innocent. "What?"

Paige turned her phone towards me, revealing my very suggestive text from earlier. "This," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Headlock? Really?"

I shrugged, unbothered. "You read it. You know what I said."

She huffed out a laugh, tossing her phone onto the nightstand before crawling onto the bed. She hovered over me, arms on either side of my head, that damn ponytail still sleek even after her shower.

"So," Paige mused, voice dropping slightly. "You liked the ponytail, huh?"

I reached up, running my fingers over the base of it where she had secured it with a black hair tie. "Liked? Understatement."

Paige smirked, dipping down to press a lingering kiss to my jaw. "Liked it enough to text me during halftime about puttin yo ass in a headlock?"

I exhaled sharply. "I was having a moment."

She kissed the corner of my mouth, teasing me. "Mhm. And what kind of headlock we talking about?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing her lightly. "Don’t play with me, Bueckers."

Paige chuckled, finally kissing me for real, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against mine. "So… ponytail again next game?"

I nodded immediately. "Absolutely, baby it’s your secret weapon."

She smirked, leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, "Anything for you, baby. Especially when I get to have my way with you afterward."

I shivered at her words, my heart racing with anticipation. There was something intoxicating about the way she claimed me, the way she took charge. I loved every moment of it, even if it made me feel vulnerable.

Paige stood up suddenly, her playful demeanor shifting into something more commanding. “Come here,” she instructed, her voice firm yet sultry. I followed her, curiosity piqued, as she led me to the full-length mirror on the wall, right next to the bed.

“Look at yourself,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against my neck as she turned me to face the glass. I could see the reflection of us, a flush creeping across my cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “But I want you to see what I see.”

Before I could respond, she slowly pulling my satan mini sleep dress, off revealing my body to herself as if she was claming a prize. My heart raced as I realized her intentions. “Paige…” I started, but her smirk silenced me.

“Shh,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. “Trust me, watch me the whole time, ma. ” She walked to the other bed side table to pull out the purple stap, taking the boxers off and expertly securing it around her waist.

I watched her through the Mirror not taking my eyes of her once.

“Now,” she said, walking back to me and now her breath warm against my neck, “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and think about how good you can be for me.”

She wrapped her strong arms around me, pulling me back against her chest, and I found my breath catching in my throat as I felt her biceps flex around my head.

“Paige, I—”

“Good girls do what they’re told,” she interrupted playfully, flexing her biceps around my chin so I could look up see my own reflection. “Look at you. So pretty, so willing. You’re perfect just like this.”

I gazed into the mirror, my heart pounding as I saw the way she held me—her strength juxtaposed against my vulnerability. I felt a rush of heat surge through me.

“Tell me what you see,” Paige urged, her voice steady yet sultry. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I see…” I hesitated, caught between the thrill of her hold and the desire to please her. “I see… me. I see us.”

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, the heat radiating off her. “Now, tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, Paige,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The honesty of my desire sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that burned deep within. “I want you to fuck me.”

“See? Was that so hard?” she teased, her lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re learning.”

Paige turned me slightly, enough that I could see her in the mirror too. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she gazed down at me, and I felt a rush of exhilaration at being at her mercy. “Now, I want you to remember this moment. How it feels to be my good girl.”

With that, she pressed her lips against mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding. I melted against her, surrendering fully to the sensation of her body against mine. Each kiss deepened my desire, igniting a passion that coursed through my veins.

“Look at us,” she murmured between kisses, her voice low and seductive. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Together, we create magic.”

Once back on the bed she had me face down ass up, still facibg the mirror.

I gasped as she took her tongue and gave my much needy pussy attention, “You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered, her breath warm against my thigh just before kissing and biting at it. “I want to make you feel everything.”

After a few mins of practically making out with my pussy, Paige, pulling me up by my hair before locking my head in her biceps again, her lips brushing against my ear as she trailed kisses along my jawline and neck. I could feel her warmth, her desire, and it sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. “Tell me how it feels, and don't be quiet about it either, baby” she instructed, her voice a tantalizing whisper.

“Good,” I breathed, my heart racing. “It feels so good.”

“Good girls deserve to be rewarded,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “And you’ve been so very good, so keep watching in the mirror for me, yeah mamas”

She guided my gaze back to the mirror, forcing me to watch as she explored my body, her hands roaming, her kisses igniting every nerve. “Look at how much you crave this,” she teased, her voice a sultry melody. “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, the thrill of her words sending me spiraling deeper into desire.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief and passion.

Before I could fully process her movements, she had me pinned, face down ass up into the satan sheets, every inch of my body electrified by her touch. The strap slid deeper, an intoxicating sensation that made my heart race and my mind spin.

I could feel every pulse, every inch of her as she filled me, her confidence radiating through the air. Letting out a groan as if she could actually feel me clenching around her. “Fuck, baby you takin my dick so good. Pussy just swallowin me whole, shit.”

“Paige…” I managed to whisper, but the words were swallowed by the thick tension that hung between us. My body was responding, every nerve ending alive with the thrill of the moment. She held me captive, and I was more than willing to surrender.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as she thrust deeper, the rhythm slow at first but building in intensity. I could hear her breathing, a mix of pleasure and desire, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmured, a sultry smile playing on her lips. “I could do this forever.”

With every thrust, she drew me closer to a precipice I had only ever dreamed of. The world outside faded away; there was nothing but the two of us, lost in our own universe. I could feel the heat pooling within me, a delicious tension building that threatened to consume us both.

“God, you feel so good,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I want you to look in the mirror when you cum f'me. Watch yourself fall apart on my shit, ma.”

I surrendered completely, allowing myself to be swept up in the waves of pleasure she was creating. The way she moved, the way she filled me—it was intoxicating. I could feel every inch of her, the connection between us palpable, electric. It was as if we were two bodies entwined in a dance as old as time, a rhythm that only we could hear.

“Paige, I…” My words faltered as she hit a spot that made my entire body quiver. I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until it felt like I might burst.

“Shh, just look in the mirror and feel,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her words were like a spell, wrapping around me and pulling me deeper into the moment. I lost myself completely, every thought dissolving into a haze of pure ecstasy. Looking into the mirror watching with way she had my arms pinned behind my back, the determination on her face to make me feel so full. Watching the way my juices leaked on the bed, the way the base of the strap milky white from the way she was pounding me into the bed. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the connection between us, the way she moved, the way she touched me.

As she pushed deeper, I could feel the heat rising more and more, the pressure building within me. I was teetering on the edge, and I could sense that she was too. And as a last minute act she put me in a headlock again, hips still hitting all the right spot. “Yes, just like that, watch yourself f'me” she urged, her voice a low, sultry whisper. “Let go for me. Yeah ma, cum on my dick.”

With a final thrust, everything exploded, watching myself fall apart on the purple strap. I felt the world around me shatter into a million pieces, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

“Just like that, baby. That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her voice a sultry murmur that was so encouraging that I could cum again. “You’re so beautiful when you cum, f'me baby.”

I could hardly respond, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure that coursed through me. I felt her slow down, her movements becoming gentle as she brought me back down from the high. My head resting back on her shoulder for a few seconds before I look at our sweat, cum dripping bodies, in awe

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern flickering in her eyes as they met mine through the mirror.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “More than okay,” I whispered, a smile breaking across my face. “That was incredible.”

Her lips curled into a playful grin, and I could see the satisfaction shining in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I could fully comprehend her words, she shifted her body, and mine her movements fluid and graceful. The strap was still there, a reminder of the connection we shared, and as she positioned herself above me, as I am now on my back, I felt the excitement build once more.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” she said, her voice low and enticing.

With that, she began to move again, her body rocking against mine in a way that sent shivers coursing through me. Every thrust was deliberate, every movement intentional, and I could feel myself responding, eager to meet her rhythm.

“God, you’re amazing,” she breathed, her eyes locked onto mine. The intensity of her gaze sent another wave of heat through me, igniting the fire that had only just begun to simmer.

“Paige, you have no idea…” I gasped, my hands finding their way to her hips, guiding her as I tried to keep up with her pace.

We were lost in each other, the world outside fading away once more. The tension built again, a delicious spiral that threatened to consume us both. I could feel the heat rising, the pressure coiling within me, and I knew we were nearing the edge once more.

“Just a little more,” she urged, her breath coming in quick gasps as she pushed herself closer, her voice laced with urgency. “I want to feel you again.”

With her words, I was gone, the tension breaking like a dam as the pleasure rushed over me once more. I could feel her reach her peak too, our bodies connected in a way that felt transcendent.

As we collapsed together, breathless and spent, I couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two souls intertwined, lost in the heat of desire and the sweetness of connection.

“Wow,” I managed to say, a laugh escaping my lips. “What just happened?”

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Just a little magic,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I think we should do it again.”

I grinned, my heart racing at the thought. “I’m all in.”

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[tangents-within-tangents]

Like fr to everyone talking about headcanons/AUs/"having fun" in the notes: the word you are looking for is REinterpretation. Not to go webster or anything but

-Interpret: explain the meaning of information, words, or actions. (explain, expound, clarify)

-Misinterpret: interpret something or someone wrongly. (misunderstand, misconstrue, mistake)

-Reinterpret: interpret something in a new or different light.

It seems in fandom spaces the word interpretation is often used at times when what they actually mean is reinterpretation (or sometimes just reaction or impression, ex: your opinion of a character is subjective and valid, but that's not the same as an interpretation).

If your "interpretation" is completely divorced from or contradicts the text, it's not an interpretation anymore. It's a reinterpretation. A reimagining. And yeah you can totally have your fun, go off! Just don't act like it IS an interpretation. Because valid interpretations come with supporting evidence, which is the whole point of the og post.

I think this bit from OP's other reblog describes it best:

this is one way it gets messy that fandom is a space for both media analysis and transformative works even though those two things don’t always co-exist comfortably or necessarily serve each other.

This is the crux. Both happen in fandom because both are a form of engaging with a work that you appreciate. But one literally relies upon analyzing what IS presented in the text, and the other upon reinventing and transforming that text (and headcanon sometimes straddles this line in between). So the important thing is recognizing the distinctions and not mixing them up. And it goes both ways:

-“He would never act that way” we know, it’s an intentional recharacterization bc we're exploring something different right now

-“But he's just a poor meow meow” not relevant right now because we're analyzing how the writing actually portrayed him

Textual evidence doesn't matter when we're just having fun and making incorrect quote memes, and headcanons don't matter when we're analyzing thematic content. The distinction helps us to have more productive conversations. And crossing the streams can sometimes take us to harmful or frustrating extremes.

To borrow an example from Rowan Ellis: You relate to a Taylor Swift song and feel seen in your queer identity? That's great, no one can stop you from experiencing the song that way even if Taylor didn't intend it. But if you turn that around and say this is proof that Taylor herself must be secretly queer, or worse that she's somehow queerbaiting? Please stop!

Another example: Someone once pulled the "we're just having fun, you can scroll past" card on me when they were straight up bashing the writing for not going the way they wanted. Please, have your fun, I won't stop you. Write a fix-it au where your blorbo comes back to life. Vive la fanfic! But when you say "the writers should have done [random specific thing] if they wanted me to believe he was truly dead" whilst blatantly misinterpreting the thing the writers did do to confirm it so it can fit into your theories/denial? That's not 'just having fun' anymore, that's flawed/unfair criticism and I'mma push back on it. (I didn't actually, just for the record)

Headcanons by definition are not canon, and I think you'll find most people are totally fine with you having whatever headcanons you want, so long as you don't start claiming that they are canon or that your way is the only way. That's where people have a problem.

But even headcanons that don't contradict canon, that could fit into ambiguous gaps where canon did not confirm or deny the possibility either way, are still headcanons. They aren't presented in the text itself and therefore not useful to analysis and criticism.

And I think this is where the distinction can feel blurry at times. Because some headcanoning is based on evidence from the source material. So some may think it's the same as media analysis, but I'd call it extrapolation rather than interpretation. It uses canon evidence in more of a imaginative/conspiracy theory/inspiration to bounce off type of way. Especially since fanon is often about filling in gaps.

Fanon focuses on the story, and treats it almost as if it and the characters are living. But media analysis relies upon treating it as media. On recognizing it was written by a person who made choices and used literary devices and elements intentionally to convey meaning (even if we can debate on what that meaning is).

Subtext is not just whatever you want to project onto a story. Subtext is an actual literary device. Meaning that is intentionally implied by the author because you shouldn't spell everything out and it's important to let the readers participate. It's what the characters aren't saying but the author is.

Unreliable narrator is also a literary device, that is intentionally crafted and indicated throughout the whole text. It's the author saying something through the character saying the opposite. It's not an excuse to ignore whatever you want to ignore of what the narrator says.

Characters aren't people and they don't actually make any choices. Everything they do, everything they are, was written and crafted by the author.

(In short, when I analyze character arcs or critique writing choices, I'd love for the discussion I get to point out things I may have overlooked or misinterpreted. Not for it to just shove in a bunch of irrelevant headcanons, character personifications, and Watsonian explanations that have nothing to do with my arguments.)

Fanon is very open-world concept (and open multiverse lol), but analysis is about looking at what the author did give you, what they chose to include or not and what it is meant to show us.

Writing is about crafting an iceberg that implies a keel under the water. Therefore analysis is about studying the iceberg to try to interpret that keel. And fanon is about exploring the whole ocean. And transformative work is about idk cutting off chunks and making ice sculptures.

All of them are very cool and fun in their own right but I think we can see how they can definitely clash and get in each other's way.

Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”

[nugatorysheep]

What your favorite SU character says about you but it's just mean as fuck

Steven — How is being a mentally ill, people-pleasing queer going for you? Did your mommy issues and anxiety resolve themselves yet or are you still avoiding therapy?

You either disliked or were neutral about him until he got a neck. You think Future is peak cinema (correct) and can't understand why everyone else hates it. You have a better grasp on this show's characters and themes than most of the people who watched it.

Connie — You were likely the gifted kid in school but a total burn-out now. You either see a lot of yourself in this character (How are those helicopter parents of yours doing? Have you gone no-contact yet?) or you're a normie and boring to sandbox with. Probably both.

You've got a lot of Feelings™️about her and if people don't agree it causes Problems™️. In case no one has told you yet, stop caring what other people think. Your constant virtue signaling to appeal to other normies is a crutch that's just holding you back. It's okay to have fun!!

Stevonnie — You want to fuck this character, though you'd never say that out loud. You like Steven and Connie; maybe you like one more than the other, but you like both at least a little. If you're using them for shipping you're the only person in the entire fandom doing whatever hyper-specific ship you've latched onto.

Rose and or Pink — You really suck as a person! Or you used to suck but you've gotten a lot better and we stan! If you're the former you almost certainly have terrible takes on this show (but not in the way people might think), sorry, I don’t make the rules. Either way, you gotta stop finding ways to bring her back, dawg. She's gone.

Greg — You're a man (positive) and gay as hell. Gentleman on the streets and a fucking freak in the sheets. We stan. Pop off king <3

Garnet — If you headcanon her as acespec she is not actually your favorite, Ruby and Sapphire are your favorite, but you like them both equally so you just say you like Garnet. If you headcanon her as anything else you're definitely shipping her with one of the other gems, probably Pearl or Jasper.

Amethyst — Super chill person. Would be in most people's dream blunt rotation. You're a live and let live kinda guy and I respect that, but you also have no hills you'd die on so you're not the first person anyone goes to if they need serious support. You can get away with misinterpreting this character (on purpose or accidentally) because it's hard to say things about her that most people won't just shrug at and go "yeah that sounds right I guess"

Pearl — You're annoying as hell. You see yourself in this character and that's not a good thing. Your social media presence gives off the same energy as every white woman's Instagram profile. If being a victim was a contest you'd take home the gold.

You think everyone is out to get you. They're not.

You think you're being persecuted. You're not.

Most people who see you from a distance and don't know better think you're alright, so you're probably pretty well-liked in public. The only people you will get along with in close quarters are all walking mean lesbian stereotypes.

Peridot — You're annoying as hell for a different reason. You see yourself in this character too and that is a terrible, terrible thing.

She's your pfp on every website and app that will allow it. Your lifeblood is this fucking character and e v e r y o n e will know it. You're weirdly possessive of her and the hyper specific headcanons you made for her (even if you don't say that) despite every grass-fearing autistic person on the internet projecting onto her, so ironically you don't like other Peridot fans, which always ends up with you sitting alone even on websites with millions of people on them.

90% chance you're a furry, otherkin, therian or think you have DID. You think you're misunderstood, and in some ways you are, but the reality is most people don't speak dog and don't have the time or energy to learn. You need to go outside and learn to speak cat whether you want to or not

Lapis — You don't like Peridot fans or kinnies, which is weirdly in-character. You're the biggest hater but you don't hide it and I can respect that. You think Lapis is a victim, but you're only half right. You would probably fall for propaganda if it was dressed up fancy enough.

Jasper — You want to fuck this character, full stop. There's a 50/50 chance you're chill af or the most insufferable person on the planet. If you're the former you're friends with a lot of people. You float easily from one group to another, but a jack of all trades is a master of none, and you're no one's first pick if they're looking for someone close. You probably hate Lapis and her fans but you should really just let that shit go ngl

Spinel — You need therapy (derogatory) and you're making that everyone else's problem. Despite the clown aesthetic you're not very funny to be around and you should get a better sense of humor. You project onto this character way too hard and it shows in your fandom habits and headcanons, but most of the time that's fine

Like Spinel, you're a little two-faced. Some people pick up on that right away and some don't. The people who do hold you at arms length until you make it clear which clown you'd rather be. You hate it when people ship Spinel with any character besides your favorite pairing, but you'll never say that out loud unless it's a ship the people you're talking to don't like.

Blue Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or a minor who doesn't actually understand anything about this character yet, and would immediately fall for any and all forms of propaganda

Yellow Diamond — If you think she is wearing a helmet you're a man (derogatory) and you expected things out of SU that were never gonna happen. If you think it's just hair you have a much better grasp on this character than 90% percent of SU's fandom and I'm platonically kissing you on the mouth.

White Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or an incredibly based and sexy queer.

The Zircons — You like Ace Attorney, or would like it if you haven't played it yet. You're making them kiss sloppy style. UwU

Lars — You probably didn't like him until after he died. You will defend this boy with your fucking life. Also you should just…. go watch Star Trek if you haven't. Seriously what are you doing—

Sadie — You're an oddball. Very lax though. You have complicated feelings about Shep

Peedee — You're a little quirky, a little freaky, but you're too scared to just say that. You desperately need some fun in your life, but the people around you make that difficult. Eventually you'll find the folks that are worth hanging around. See you on the flip side :)

Ronaldo — You're the type of person this character is based on and you take it in stride. If you're shipping him with Lars, you're the only person who's opinion on this character matters.

Kevin — I dunno who hurt you but you have a terrible taste in men. You only have fun in bed if it involves a damn near human rights violation

Mayor Dewey — You're normalbirb

Any other townie — This is a trick question! No one has these as their favorite lmao

[hrrtshape]

insane, dream-like things that were normal in my better cr . . . in other words, what it was like being part of the 1%

i never carried cash : i didn’t need to. if i ever found myself in a situation where cash was required, idk, a farmer’s market or bribing someone, i’d just apple pay!?

i never waited for anything : reservations were booked months in advance. lines were always skipped. at clubs we just walked right in. theme parks? VIP passes only. i have never stood in a queue longer than 90 seconds in my life...or...in my better cr.

my closet was bigger than a new york apartment : and everything was colour-coded. yep. yep !!!

i never read price tags : not because i was being reckless, because i simply did not need to know. it was always fine.

if i wanted something, i got it : saw a dress in a magazine? had it by the next morning. craved a specific croissant from a bakery in paris? it was flown in. life had no delays.

luxury was so normal i had to actively remind myself it wasn’t : by the 13th day, i would have moments, small ones, where i’d be like, " wait, not everyone has their own perfume custom-blended by a french artisan? " and then i’d move on.

the ‘poor kid’ still had a trust fund. . . they just had less in it.

errands? what errands? dry cleaning, post office, buying toothpaste. these were not my problems.

skincare was medical : not just a ‘good moisturiser’ situation, i mean dermatologist-designed, prescription-only, lab-created serums. my facials involved lasers. my face was someone’s full-time job.

my mom had a florist on retainer : fresh-cut flowers appeared in my room like magic. i never asked for them. they just were.

celebrity run-ins were painfully normal : “oh yeah, we had dinner next to tilda swinton last night.” “who?” WHO?

we never parked our own cars : valet, always. i had a friend who didn’t even know how to use a parking metre.

there was no such thing as ‘saving up’. in those two weeks i never thought, “hmm, should i buy this now or wait till christmas when i get 50 euros from my grandma?” PFTTTTT.

everyone had a ‘family office’ : financial advisers, lawyers, accountants. my money was managed. someone in my school had three.

coffee orders were wildly specific : not ‘latte with oat milk’ specific. i mean custom-roasted beans, flown in from a single farm in costa rica, brewed at a precise temperature, delivered in a monogrammed cup.

doctors made house calls : i have not seen the inside of a waiting room. ever. feeling sick? someone arrived.

vacation homes weren’t a flex, they were a given : there’s the paris apartment (1st arrondissement, obviously), the villa in lake como, the chalet in gstaad. the only real estate question was, “are we summering in capri or st. barths?

your signature scent is impossible to buy : it’s either a discontinued hermès perfume from the ’70s that you miraculously still source, or a custom blend from a perfumer who only takes five clients a year.

flying commercial is a horror story, not an option : tsa? baggage claim? delays? these are foreign concepts. you had a netjets membership at the very least, but most likely, you have a family jet with an interior designed by someone who also did a yacht.

your tastebuds have standards : your daily coffee comes from a faema e61, your eggs are from a private farm, and your idea of a snack is burrata flown in from puglia that morning. did i mention my private school had michelin chefs?? yea.

you own art. like, real art : not prints. not posters. actual, museum-worthy pieces that are either inherited or sourced through galleries that don’t even have websites.

most people don’t know what anything costs : a gallon of milk? no idea. a metro ticket? couldn’t tell you. you swipe, tap, sign, and never check.

you don’t shop in stores like normal people : you go to private showrooms, have pieces sent to your home, or shop off-runway. waiting in line… horrendous.

i’ve had a ‘house account’ somewhere : a boutique, a jeweller, a tailor. places where you don’t pay on the spot, just ‘put it on the account’ and settle later.

i was taught how to eat properly : which fork for what course, how to use a butter knife, the correct way to hold a wine glass. it’s not something i learned. it’s something i absorbed from watching adults at endless dinners, benefits, and polo events.

i don’t remember learning how to ski or ride horses : because i was doing it before i was fully conscious. i have childhood photos in full equestrian gear, little skis strapped to my feet in gstaad or zermatt. it’s just something i always did.

an art education by osmosis : grew up hearing adults talk about rothko, basquiat, and duchamp in casual conversation. dragged to the louvre and the tate before i could even read. instinctively know the difference between an original and a print.

i have a family lawyer on retainer : and not because i ever committed a crime. they exist to handle things. NDAs, reputation management, keeping your name out of the papers. they know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically (or not).

most families’ wealth is so old and so layered in offshore accounts that even they don’t fully understand it : trust funds? sure, but also shell companies in the caymans, art holdings in geneva, real estate portfolios under LLCs. money isn’t in banks. it’s spread across continents.

most parents’ have had affairs with each other for decades, and it’s not even a scandal anymore : it’s just part of the ecosystem. marriages aren’t about love, they’re alliances. the wives turn a blind eye, the husbands keep it discreet, and the real betrayal is talking about it.

i’ve been name-dropped in a deposition : it was a divorce case. i was never involved, but my name was adjacent to power, so it got dragged in. the case was settled out of court, of course.

most families has multiple passports : not for fun, not for aesthetics. because sometimes you need an exit strategy. a villa in capri, a château in france, a penthouse in dubai. doors are always open, should you ever need to disappear.

i’ve seen actual generational feuds play out in real time : my parents have enemies. their parents had enemies. the grudges go back decades, and nobody even remembers what started it.

i grew up around people who have gotten away with actual crimes : white-collar, mostly. insider trading, fraud, tax evasion. but sometimes things darker. people go to rehab, people “retire early,” people take extended trips to monaco until things cool down.

i’ve seen billionaires (and their kids) break down over the pettiest things : a bad seat at a gala, a misplaced monogram on their jet, a slight from someone whose family has less money than theirs. the richer they are, the more fragile they get.

my family has a pr strategy : this is largely because my mom is a ceo of a billion dollar company. and everything is managed. what photos are released, what stories are planted, which journalists are “friendly.” nothing is random.

i know that philanthropy is often just money laundering with better optics : charities set up for tax reasons, “foundations” that quietly funnel wealth back into the family, billionaire donations that conveniently coincide with favourable legislation.

i’ve seen people lose their fortunes overnight : one wrong deal, one lawsuit, one scandal that sticks, and suddenly, the private jets are getting repossessed. the real old money…they watch from a distance. they never risk everything.

i know that some billionaires don’t actually have liquid cash : they’re over-leveraged, playing financial gymnastics with their own net worth. yachts, art, mansions. but the second they need actual money? suddenly, things get complicated. this is why everyone in my school donated possessions instead of actual money.

met people who don’t own their clothes : couture is loaned, jewellery is borrowed, yachts are rented to themselves through shell companies. it’s all about optics. they don’t need to own when they can access.

heard rich kids joke about things that would make normal people physically ill : laughing about tax evasion, casually mentioning private rehabs like summer camp, making bets on stocks that could ruin lives.

met billionaires who are bored of being rich : the thrill is gone. the yachts, the jets, the parties. it’s routine. they start chasing danger. high-stakes gambling, extreme sports, secret societies. anything to feel something.

[atlasthegreatest]

More Than Pretend / Daniela Avanzini x Gender Neutral! Reader

Daniela needs a last-minute Valentine’s date to prove to her nosy friends that she's totally over her ex. She ropes Y/n—her long-time friend, to pretend to be her date, expecting a night full of playful banter— until real sparks fly, leaving her wondering why she didn't see it sooner.

Word count: 1755

Warnings: Best friends to lovers. Fluff.

Daniela had exactly four hours to secure a Valentine’s date.

It wasn’t like she cared about Valentine’s Day. She didn’t. But after weeks of her friends poking and prodding about whether she was actually over her ex, she was done. She needed a solution—fast.

This is why she was now standing outside Y/n’s apartment, an expectant (and slightly desperate) look on her face.

“You want me to be your date?” The tall person asked, arms crossed as they leaned against their doorway.

“Yes. Obviously,” Daniela huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Look, I know it’s last minute, but it’s just for show. We’ll go to dinner, maybe hold hands, you tell everyone I’m thriving without my ex, and boom—problem solved.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “And what do I get out of this?”

Daniela blinked. “…The honor of being my incredibly attractive date?”

Y/n stared at her unamusingly.

The Latina sighed. “Fine. Dinner’s on me. And dessert.”

“Sold,” Y/n said, grabbing their coat.

————————

The restaurant was dimly lit, filled with couples who were either madly in love or pretending they weren’t on the verge of an argument. Daniela, dressed in a sleek red dress that should have been illegal, sat across from Y/n, sipping her wine as she surveyed the room.

“Okay, act natural,” she murmured.

“You do realize we’ve been friends for years, right?” Y/n teased. “I think I can handle pretending to like you.”

Daniela smirked. “You’d be surprised how many people fold under pressure.”

Y/n leaned in, resting their chin on their hand. “Oh? And what about you? Can you handle pretending to like me?”

For the first time, Daniela faltered. She opened her mouth—then closed it, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Y/n was. She had expected playful banter, light teasing, and a dramatic display of “look-how-over-my-ex-I-am” energy.

She hadn’t expected her heart to trip over itself when they looked at her like that.

The conversation flowed easily, just like it always had. But the way Daniela’s fingers brushed Y/n’s when they reached for their glass? The way she listened when they talked about their latest project? The way her laugh sounded softer, more real?

None of that felt fake.

—-———————

As they walked out of the restaurant, the night air crisp against their skin, Daniela let out a deep breath. “Well, that was painless.”

“Yeah,” Y/n said, shoving their hands into their pockets. “Almost… fun.”

Daniela scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” But she was smiling.

Y/n turned to face her. “So? Did we convince them?”

Daniela hesitated. Her friends had bought the act completely. But that wasn’t what was on her mind anymore.

What was on her mind was the way she didn’t want to let go of Y/n’s hand. The way her stomach flipped every time they looked at her.

What was on her mind was them.

“I think we convinced me,” she muttered.

Y/n frowned. “What?”

Daniela groaned, rubbing her temple. “Ugh, nothing—just—shut up.” And before she could overthink it, she grabbed Y/n’s face and kissed them.

Y/n barely had time to react before she pulled back, cheeks flushed. “…Crap,” she whispered.

Daniela was in trouble.

Real, undeniable, heart-racing, stomach-flipping trouble.

Because when Y/n kissed her back—when they smiled against her lips like this had been inevitable—something inside her clicked. And there was no pretending anymore.

She pulled back, just enough to look at Y/n. Their grin was impossibly smug, but their eyes were warm. Playful. Knowing.

“So,” Y/n murmured, still close enough that she could feel the warmth of their breath, “does this mean I get a second date?”

Daniela scoffed, stepping back and crossing her arms like that kiss hadn’t just rewired her entire brain. “You act like you’re the one who did me a favor tonight.”

“Oh, I did,” Y/n teased. “I helped you get over your ex and I looked good while doing it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. “Shut up.”

Y/n laughed, tucking their hands into their pockets as they started walking. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Daniela hesitated for half a second before falling into step beside them. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement, but the air between them felt lighter now.

“So,” Y/n started, nudging her shoulder, “when did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?”

“That you like me,” they said easily.

Daniela nearly tripped over the sidewalk. “Excuse me?”

Y/n gave her a knowing look. “I saw the way you looked at me at dinner, Dani. That wasn’t ‘fake date’ behavior. That was ‘I’m just now realizing I have feelings for my best friend’ behavior.”

Her face burned. “First of all, rude. Second of all—” She huffed, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. “…Maybe dinner next week isn’t the worst idea,”

Y/n smirked. “So you do like me.”

Daniela groaned. “I swear, if you say one more word—”

“Relax,” Y/n said, bumping her arm. “We’ve got plenty of time to talk about it over dinner. Real dinner. Not ‘fake date’ dinner.”

The Latina woman bit back a smile. “Fine. But if my friends start getting nosy again, I’m blaming you.”

“Gladly,” they said.

And as they walked side by side down the quiet street, Daniela realized something.

Maybe her friends’ teasing had led to something good after all.

——————-

Daniela had been on dates before. Real ones, fake ones, ones that blurred the line between the two. But nothing had ever made her this nervous.

It was ridiculous. Y/n was her best friend—her safe place. And yet, now that she knew the feelings were mutual, she couldn’t shake the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in her stomach.

This is why she was currently pacing her apartment, phone in hand, trying to psych herself up to text them.

“What time are we meeting tomorrow?”

She hovered over the send button for longer than she cared to admit before finally pressing it.

Seconds later, their response came in.

“You tell me. But fair warning—I’m showing up looking like the best date you’ve ever had.”

Daniela snorted, rolling her eyes. Typical.

“Oh, please. You couldn’t outshine me if you tried.”

“We’ll see about that. See you at 7?”

“7 it is. Don’t be late.”

As soon as she sent it, she flopped onto her couch, exhaling sharply. This was fine. Normal. She could do this.

——————-

The restaurant was a little different this time—less about proving a point, and more about just being there with Y/n. Daniela had been so caught up in appearances before that she hadn’t let herself feel anything. Now, she didn’t have that excuse.

And the way Y/n looked at her across the table? Like they’d been waiting for this longer than she had? Yeah. That was dangerous.

“So,” Y/n said, swirling their drink. “How does it feel? Going on a date with someone who likes you back?”

Daniela rolled her eyes. “I always go on dates with people who like me back.”

“Yeah, but you like me back this time,” they pointed out.

Daniela’s face warmed, but she refused to give Y/n the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Y/n grinned. “Too late.”

And just like that, all the nerves disappeared. Because this was them. The person who had always been by her side—who had seen her at her best and worst and still stuck around.

Maybe it had taken her too long to see it. But sitting here, watching them smirk at her like she was their favorite thing in the world, Daniela knew one thing for certain.

This?

This wasn’t pretend anymore.

Bonus Chapter:

The night wasn’t supposed to end like this.

After dinner, Daniela had planned to go home, overanalyze every second of the date with her girls, and probably scream into her pillow for a good five minutes. What she hadn’t planned for was ending up on Y/n’s couch, wrapped in a blanket, sharing a pint of ice cream at midnight.

“You know,” Y/n said, spoon in hand, “for someone who insisted this wasn’t a real date last week, you sure looked like you were having fun tonight.”

Daniela shot them a glare, though it held no real heat. “I was having fun. But that doesn’t mean I need to give you the satisfaction of admitting it.”

Y/n chuckled, shaking their head. “Classic Dani.”

The Latina woman rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned back against the couch, letting her head rest against Y/n’s shoulder. She told herself it was just because she was comfortable—not because she wanted to be close to them.

The silence stretched, warm and unhurried, until Y/n spoke again.

“Be honest. When did you realize you liked me?”

Daniela stiffened. “Who says I do?”

Y/n nudged her side. “Dani.”

Daniela sighed, twirling the spoon between her fingers. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe it was when you showed up to dinner looking like that. Maybe it was when you wouldn’t stop teasing me, and instead of wanting to strangle you, I just—” She groaned. “I don’t know. I liked it.”

Y/n was quiet for a moment, and Daniela forced herself to keep talking. “Or maybe it was before that. Maybe it was every time you were there for me when I didn’t even have to ask. Maybe it was the way you always made me laugh, even when I was mad at you. Maybe it was when I realized I never actually wanted to go on a fake date with anyone else.”

Silence.

Then, softly—

“You should’ve said something sooner.”

Daniela swallowed hard. “Would it have changed anything?”

Y/n turned, gently tilting the girl's chin up so she had no choice but to meet their gaze.

“Yeah,” they murmured. “Because I would’ve kissed you a long time ago.”

Daniela’s breath caught as Y/n’s lips brushed against hers—soft, unhurried, and real. She melted into it, gripping Y/n’s hoodie like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

When Y/n finally pulled away, they grinned. “Took you long enough, Avanzini.”

Daniela groaned, burying her face in Y/n’s shoulder. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

She didn’t answer. But the way her fingers curled around theirs, lacing them together?

That was the answer.

[honourablejester]

See, this loops me back around to the initial problem in the post.

Showing people heroically fighting demons is bad, because it valorises historical religious wars. Which means that we’re saying fantasy fiction cannot interact with religion as real without being automatically morally wrong. And I don’t agree with that.

This is what I mean by a fundamentally atheist view of fantasy fiction. And of real history, for that matter.

In a fantasy world, gods are real. Demons are real. Magic is real. Religious wars are not just fought by humans against other humans, as they are in our world, but against non-human supernatural forces. This is a difference in context.

(Which is, mind you, an atheist statement in and of itself, since I’m assuming that gods and demons aren’t real in our world, so there’s inherent bias in that in and of itself).

We are assuming that portraying crusades against demons is bad because those demons are stand ins for the real historical humans of the real historical crusades. But they aren’t. Not automatically. Humans are the only possible enemies in our world. But in a fantasy world, they aren’t.

Instead of exploring the ramifications of that massive change in worldbuilding, how would real magic interact with human desires, how would real gods and real demons interact with human desires, we’re apparently forever stuck assuming that only echoes from our world matter.

Yes, there is a legacy of using fictional non-human species to stand in for real-world other humans that the writer views as ‘lesser’. But the automatic assumption that it’s the only purpose a fictional non-human species could have means that we’re also stuck with the idea that humans are the only things we can imagine as people. Or as important. People like us are the only things we can imagine mattering. If a thing can think and talk, it’s a human or a representation of a human.

In this crusade, the enemies are portrayed as demonically evil because they’re demons. Not evil humans. Actual literal demons.

In real world religions, the depictions of demons or things roughly analogous to demons varies a lot, but they’re usually a force of nature/supernature that is fundamentally either hostile or indifferent to humans. In Christian mythology, demons are creatures that are literally not of our world that want to harm it. What if that was real. What if we had a story where that was the force we’re interacting with.

What is the point of fantasy (or science fiction) if we’re not allowed to treat these fantastical elements as an actual real thing for the characters and societies and systems of the world to interact with? Why are we bothering to create a world where gods and demons are real if it’s not allowed to change anything?

It’s also so bizarrely puritanical for something so incredibly atheist. Because if a story goes out of its way to come up with an enemy that is fully inhuman so that we’re not pointing our violent fantasies at a human, you’re just going ‘actually you’re lying, you really want to kill humans after all’. It’s just ‘violence is bad and you’re morally bad for wanting a safe portrayal of it’, just dressed up differently. Again, like I said in the original post, I’m getting such a vibe of ‘video games make children violent’ here.

Because that is the only concern here. The use of demons as the enemy. Because, again, as we’ve gone through in this post, the actual crusades in the game were portrayed as morally complicated, dubiously effective, and full of complicated people on all sides. Including the demons. In 40K, too, the Imperium is portrayed as a religious fascist hellscape. And the idea you’re forwarding is that the story considers said fascist hellscape as justified because their opponents are literal demons. And that any story that uses literal demons does so to justify whatever they’re putting up against them.

But that is such a flat interpretation. Oh, I don’t doubt it’s true, intent-wise, from some creators. But you can also use a demonic foe to highlight how inhuman humans look even by comparison. You can use a demonic foe to ask, actually, what is the qualitative difference between these two stripes of evil. You can use a demonic foe to ask is anything justified in the face of such a threat. You can use a demonic foe as essentially a supernatural natural disaster equivalent, an unreasoning onslaught that people have to just survive.

I just hate that what we’re saying here is that no, actually, you can’t do any of that. You can never portray supernatural elements as real. You can never portray religion as a force for good, not even a complicated one. You can never treat fantasy threats as real in their world because actually they’re just real-world biases with a different paint job. You can never engage with the premise of the story. You can never ask questions of relative morality, because as soon as you say the word ‘demon’ the sides are automatically drawn. Which is such a Christian moral response to start with, actually.

This is just such a weird, puritan, simultaneously atheist and extremely Christian ideology underlying the thought a) that nothing supernatural can be treated as real, b) that Christian-named evils automatically trump all others regardless of the actual effects shown, c) that simulated violence is indicative of an inherent desire for real violence, d) that any interaction with the concept of religion indicates an inherent fundamentalism, and e) that there has to be a moral victor in any portrayal of conflict.

To be blunt, I do not agree that portraying a religious force in a fantasy world facing a demonic force must be indicative of a belief that religious wars against humans in our world were justified. Because fantasy is not reality, because humans are not demons, and because I don’t view engaging with the premise of a fantasy world as an inherent sin.

‘A fantasy religion might be morally justified for launching a holy war against an army of alien monstrosities who have ripped a literal hole in the world and are killing everything in a two hundred mile radius, with no signs of stopping there’ and ‘using religion as the real world moral justification for a war of conquest and colonialism against other humans is the origin of one of the darkest periods in human history’ are two statements that I am fully comfortable making and see absolutely no conflict between. Because those are two different circumstances. And I'll add on 'a fantasy crusade might be justified in fighting demons but not justified in how they treat the people caught between them at the same time'.

And if there are people in the audience who can’t see a difference between circumstances, or who are uncomfortable trying to make moral judgements without clear guidance or with potentially misleading guidance, or in a situation where there possibly isn’t a clear moral conclusion to come to (because, for example, this is Warhammer 40k and everyone in this fucking galaxy is some stripe of at least fucked up if not outright evil), that’s frankly a them problem.

kind of concerning how married the fantasy genre is to "crusades as a basically good thing"

[heliosunny]

Bidding for trouble - 1.5

Yandere!Sugilite x Assistant!Reader

You weren’t sure what was worse: the overwhelming workload in Topaz’s department or Sugilite’s dramatic morning interruptions.

Honestly, it was a close call.

When you were first temporarily reassigned to help out Topaz’s team, you thought it wouldn’t be that bad. Sure, they were short-staffed, and sure, they had piles of work that somehow never ended, but at least you wouldn’t have to deal with Sugilite’s unpredictable schemes for a while.

Or so you thought.

Because apparently, he had other plans.

And now, every morning without fail, he showed up at Topaz’s office like a VIP customer filing a complaint.

Morning Ritual – Day One

You were barely halfway through your first cup of coffee when a familiar voice rang out across the department.

“Ah, there you are!” Sugilite said smoothly, stepping into the office like he owned the place. “I was beginning to think you’d disappeared for good.”

You sighed, setting down your paperwork. “Good morning to you too, Boss.”

Topaz looked up from her desk, visibly unimpressed. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Sugilite smiled. “I am working. I’m here to check on my most valuable employee.”

You gave him a flat look. “It’s literally my first day here.”

“Exactly. You’ve been away too long.”

Topaz pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you’re not here to invest in something, get out.”

Sugilite ignored her entirely, turning back to you with an easy grin. “So, how’s the transfer treating you? Boring without me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Surprisingly peaceful.”

His smile dropped slightly.

“Is that so?” he mused, voice light, but there was a familiar edge to it. The kind that said I don’t like that answer.

You pretended not to notice.

Sugilite sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Well, don’t get too comfortable. You’re coming back the second this little favor is over.”

Topaz crossed her arms. “If we still need them, I might keep them a bit longer.”

You could feel Sugilite’s sharp gaze shift toward her.…Okay. Time to intervene before someone loses a contract.

You grabbed your pen, waving it slightly. “Boss, I’ll be back before you know it. You’ll survive.”

Sugilite’s eyes flickered toward you.

And then—just like that, the usual grin returned.

“Of course” he said, stepping back. “Just don’t forget where you belong.”

With that, he finally left.

Topaz let out an exasperated sigh. “That man is impossible.”

You just picked up your coffee again.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Tell me about it.”

Morning Ritual – Day Five

By now, everyone in the department knew the drill.

Every morning, like clockwork, Sugilite arrived.

Some days, he’d bring coffee. Other days, he’d make questionable investment offers just to get a reaction out of Topaz. Every day, he found some excuse to linger. And every day, you pretended not to be amused.

But you weren’t blind.

The way his gaze lingered whenever he saw you working. The way his mood soured whenever you got too comfortable here.

He didn’t like you being anywhere but his department.

And honestly?

You weren’t sure if that was endearing or concerning.

Either way, it wasn’t your problem to deal with.

Day Seven – The Last Morning Visit

By this point, Sugilite’s daily intrusions had become something of a department-wide joke.

The moment he strolled in that morning, coffee in one hand, confident smirk in place, you heard two employees in the back whispering.

“Oh, look. Here comes the morning check-in.”

“Boss withdrawal is crazy.”

“He really can’t survive without Y/n, huh?”

You pretended not to hear them.

Sugilite, on the other hand, definitely heard them.

But instead of denying it, he grinned.

“Good to see my reputation is intact” he mused, setting a coffee cup down in front of you like some kind of tribute.

You raised an eyebrow. “If this is bribery, it’s working.”

He let out a mock gasp. “You wound me. This is a generous display of my affections. A rare privilege.”

Topaz, from across the room, snorted. “What’s rare is you actually doing your job instead of harassing my department.”

Sugilite completely ignored her.

Instead, he leaned against your desk, watching you take a sip of the coffee he brought. “Good?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I feel like I should be suspicious.”

“Why?” His smirk widened. “Do you think I poisoned it?”

“At this point?” You exhaled. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Topaz laughed.

Sugilite?

He looked far too pleased.

“That’s the spirit” he said, straightening up. “Keep that paranoia. It’ll keep you alive when you come back.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” He tilted his head innocently. “Your little vacation here is over. Topaz doesn’t need you anymore.”

You slowly turned to Topaz. “Is this true?”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unfortunately.”

Sugilite clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Let’s go.”

Before you could even protest, he had already started herding you toward the door like a prized possession he was finally reclaiming.

“Hold on, at least let me pack up my stuff—”

“No need,” he interrupted smoothly. “Everything’s already waiting back at your desk. We’ll consider this a seamless transition.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.” He smiled like he hadn’t just admitted to orchestrating your entire return.

Topaz shook her head. “I should’ve fought harder to keep you.”

Sugilite laughed. “Nice try, but Y/n is mine.”

The way he said it—casual, teasing, but firm enough to leave no room for argument—sent a weird little shiver down your spine.

But you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little flattering.

Back in Your Department – Sugilite’s Perspective

As soon as you were back at your desk, Sugilite stretched out his arms and sighed dramatically.

“Ahh. Finally. Order is restored.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re acting like I was gone for months.”

“That’s what it felt like.”

“You still saw me every morning.”

“Not the same.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned. “And you’re back where you belong. Now hurry up and finish your work before I find a new reason to cut your salary.”

You groaned.

Yep.

Everything was back to normal.

[twola]

I’m sorry for asking but I don’t know where else to turn but— do you or anyone else who might see this question have any tips for writing Mary Linton? Especially in a fic where Arthur falls in love with a female oc or a reader. I find it hard to write without either demonizing her or making Arthur look completely uncharacteristically over her. That being said, I have no problem with the fics that dive into their dare I say toxicity of a relationship but I just don’t want to be extreme lol

So I don’t claim to be any kind of expert on this, but I’ll tell you my way of approaching it. There is no right answer on how to approach this; it is all about how you want to approach. That is the joy of fandom. I’m not sure if this will even qualify as tips, but I’ll just extrapolate on my approach.

In my writing canon, Arthur certainly still cares for Mary. Pines for her. After all, she was his first true love. Mary also pines for him, she loves him deeply, but cannot condone his lifestyle, and cannot live within his existence. Frankly, he’s a murderer. A killer, a thief, an outlaw. An overall bad person, even he says so.

That’s why she begs him to run away. If only he can give up being an outlaw, it will work!

But that gets into the toxicity. Is that asking too much because it is that is who Arthur is? Is that asking too much to change? We as the players mostly think so. But we also play AS Arthur. For Mary, someone who was never forced to scrape by, Arthur’s behavior is abhorrent. From her perspective, it shouldn’t be that much to ask of Arthur to stop being a bad person.

Mary has the luxury to ask that of him. She has never had to scrape by for existence. She has never had to resort to criminality to live.

In my writing canon, I think that is the difference. If a female OC is running with the gang because they are an orphan, an outlaw, a widow, an outsider with nothing, that OC doesn’t have the luxury to ask Arthur to change.

Arthur sees and knows that he can never give Mary what she’s asking for. He’s not going to change his ways (in the canon, he is not going to leave the gang, which he loves also).

But over time, there is that OC… she may be there. They may bond. There may be tension. There may be attraction. She doesn’t ask Arthur to change.

Mary’s love, tragically, is conditional. Which I can’t blame her for!

I love you, but you need to change. For you, for me, for us.

Maybe that female OC isn’t asking Arthur to change.

I love you, in just the flawed way that you are.

I actually like Mary Linton. As soon as I finished the game I actually started writing an A/M fic. Their love story is incredibly tragic. They both obviously love each other, but are unwilling to meet on either side of the chasm between them.

So writing Mary, I try not to make her mean, or out of touch, or overly manipulative. I write her as a woman deeply in love with a man who won’t make that final commitment to her. And the asking for help that she does? Very much part of it is to see Arthur again, because again, she is in love. And he loves her too. And always will.

But he has room in his heart to grow. Maybe part of it will belong to his first love. But maybe he will grow to love a woman that does not or cannot ask him to fundamentally change.

I hope that answers your question…? Maybe? Or maybe that is just me rambling.

[beesandwasps]

Since Gaza isn’t being bombed any more, they’re actually in better shape now than they were under Biden. They’re still being shot at with impunity by Israelis, but that was happening for the last 70 years so don’t pretend you care about it if you didn’t notice until now.

I would never ask a Democrat for help anyway, because they exist to prevent help from being provided. And I’m totally sure you speak for all black women and all lgbt, and the ones I follow who say the exact opposite of what you do don’t actually exist.

End the Iraq war early? Nope, we leave on Bush’s timeline (and even then Obama tried to keep us there beyond it).

Prosecute the Too Big To Fail Banks for the 2008 meltdown? Haha, nope, they’re Obama’s donors.

Cut the military budget when times are tough? That’s firm — let’s have austerity for social spending instead!

Healthcare? Oh, we’re going to get a legal mandate to buy private insurance in the form of the ACA. I’m sure that will help, it’s not like they’re the ones who created the problem in the first place. (Are you fucking kidding me?!)

Fossil fuels? Obama won’t prosecute BP for the Deepwater Horizon spill and Biden will increase production! And also put tariffs on solar panels and wind turbines from China, when there are basically no other suppliers! (But tariffs aren’t bad when Democrats do them!)

Police violence? Biden will give them federal funds they never had before so they can hire more officers and buy better equipment!

Immigration? In Trump’s first term, he deported fewer people than either Biden’s four years or any four years of Obama, and nearly all the facilities ICE is using (and were using in Trump’s first term) were built by Obama or Biden.

Gaza? 15 months of livestreamed genocide, hospitals and schools bombed into rubble, and Biden constantly lied to the public to make sure the money and weapons kept flowing to Israel, and had the US veto any UN resolutions which might have ended it. (Every single Democrat is going to hell for that if there’s a hell. Including Harris, who said out loud that she couldn’t think of a single thing she would have done differently from Biden.)

Domestic spying? GWB proposed “Total Information Awareness” which the Democrats and the press mocked because it was so obviously fascist overreach, and he backed off. Obama implemented literally every part of the proposal except the name.

Disease? More people died of Covid-19 under Biden’s first two years, when there were vaccines against it, than did under Trump, because he ignored the science and cut relief almost immediately after taking office. He also let corporations dictate the bird flu response so the probable next epidemic could be created.

Foreign interference? Obama approved CIA participation in Operation Car Wash to overthrow the left-leaning Brazilian government and install the Trump-like Bolsonaro, among other meddling in South America.

War? Obama invaded Libya based on lies, sent troops around Africa, and continued GWB’s drone bombing — as did Biden — despite both the CIA and an independent academic study saying that this is actively counterproductive! Oh, and he also petitioned Congress for money to refurbish existing nukes and build new “tactical” ones which Trump now controls.

The Democrats literally could not have produced a more convenient setup for Trump. Why people like you defend them is a mystery.

Why are they so fucking dumb. Does this mean we’ll at least get in new deal in 2040?

[elumish]

You speak on romance as a genre a lot, and there’s a trope I’d love to hear your thoughts on. I don’t know if there’s a real name for it, I usually just call it “perceived rejection” wherein Character A overhears/misinterprets/somehow comes to believe that Character B hates them, doesn’t want them around, only puts up with them for appearances, etc and now have to live with that misunderstanding until it’s cleared up. If there’s a proper name for the trope, I don’t know it, but I bet it’s related to another semi common romance trope of the love interest admitting they’re wrong/needing to beg forgiveness for something (ala pride and prejudice).

You’ve certainly read more of the genre than I have, I’m just wondering if you’ve seen this a lot and noticed any patterns about it?

Ooh, the hated misunderstanding trope (eavesdroppers never any hear good of themselves edition).

As with all misunderstanding plotlines, this is the sort of thing that can work really well or can feel extremely contrived. In my opinion, the two biggest things that make or break this trope are:

Is it believable that the character would hear the thing that they heard in the way that they heard it?

Is it believable that the character would misinterpret what they heard in the way that they did?

The most successful implementations of this trope, from my experience, are either when the thing that they heard reaffirms a belief they already had and/or is factually accurate. Overhearing that someone started pursuing them over a dare or bet, for example, has a much bigger impact on the reader if it's true than if the character misinterpreted what someone was saying.

The reason for this is that the biggest failure with misunderstanding plotlines is that they rely on characters continuing to not talk to each other. If what someone overheard was accurate, even if it's not the person's main motivation anymore (or isn't the whole truth), then simply clearing up the misunderstanding isn't sufficient, because the truth was still hurtful. Then the other character needs to make up for it, which makes for a more satisfying emotional arc.

I feel like I see this show up most in a few different ways:

Character B started their relationship with Character A under false pretenses but is now in love with them, and Character A overhears someone talking about the false pretenses

Character A already thinks that Character B is planning to leave them and then overhears something that implies that

Character A overhears Character B being defensive about the relationship or otherwise denying that it's romantic

Character A misunderstands an overheard conversation that Character B is having and assumes it's about their relationship

The problem particularly with the latter three is that often I read the conversation and either it doesn't seem like a conversation any human being would actually have in real life (so it feels manufactured just for the drama) or I can't read the misinterpretation from the conversation (so the misinterpretation feels contrived).

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

october 3, 2021 2:00 p.m. morensong coffee house

[grant] thank you for meeting me so last minute.

[cerise] yeah, it’s no problem! actually, i'm glad we could do this sooner rather than later. this has been at the back of my mind for a while–the curiosity has–so when you texted me yesterday, i was, like, i need to know. i may be going out of town for a week, but i'll try to make room in the schedule for this before i leave.

[grant] are you traveling anywhere exciting?

[cerise] iceland. it’s a big family trip to celebrate my parents’ 20th anniversary. as in, my mom and my stepdad’s anniversary. i mean, he’s my real dad as far as i'm concerned, but technically my stepdad. i think you get what i mean, i don’t know why i'm over-explaining.

[grant] wow, that is exciting. well, i hope you guys have fun. i hear it’s just as gorgeous there as you think it is.

[cerise] anyway, thank you again for asking your–our, i guess; that’s still weird to say–dad some questions on my behalf. i'm sure that wasn’t easy.

[grant] i should warn you that it’s not necessarily a wealth of information.

[cerise] that’s okay.

[grant] there was a lot going on when i talked to him, and if there were other questions i could have asked…

[cerise] it’s okay.

[grant] i wouldn’t have been able to think of them, and now, uh, the line of communication is closed, so i can’t really go back and...

[cerise] i said it was okay, didn’t i?

[cerise] the basics are enough, and you already put yourself out for a stranger. if i want to know anything else, i'll find the right moment to get my my mom talk about what happened.

[grant] do you want me to just get right into it?

[cerise] whatever you prefer.

[grant] so, uh, essentially, my parents were attending a medical conference of some kind in detroit. they were still married then, but my dad was unhappy with the relationship. he met your mom at the conference, and then he had–as far as i'm aware–a one-night stand with her. she found out my dad already had a family, they agreed to not be in each other’s lives, and he paid her child support.

[grant] that’s what i know. i'm sure there’s more to it, but...

[grant] oh! right, “the more” is that there is a nonzero chance we have more siblings out there.

[cerise] huh.

[cerise] i'm almost surprised there isn’t more drama. that’s a pretty mundane story. a one-night stand with someone you know nothing about is the oldest story in the book.

[cerise] weird, i feel better now. my curiosity is sated. well, i am wondering how the affair even happened if your mom was right there and about the potential other children, but that’s a whole can of worms.

[grant] well, i'm glad you feel better.

[cerise] and the story does make sense. i always wondered if there was some big thing with the secrecy, but if it’s because your–our?–dad was a married man, i get it. my mom is a very good person with strong morals. i know her, and she would not want anything to do with someone if she were aware they were cheating and had a family, and she wouldn’t want me to have any business with them either.

[grant] she made the right decision to stay away. he’s unnecessary. your lives are a billion times better off without him. if you’re thinking, “how can he say that?” just trust me.

[cerise] i mean, i can’t be upset about it. i'm not sure what i potentially lost out on, but what i've had in life with my parents has been perfect or just about perfect, so i'm not going to question her choice.

[grant] you didn’t lose anything. not to say trust me again, but trust me.

[cerise] i'm sorry. this probably is far less of a flippant thing for you.

[grant] don’t worry about me. it’s all good.

[grant] i am just really glad you feel better, and i'm glad i could be of some use to you as well. it’s a lot easier to use me than your mom. i have never met her, but i'm guessing she’d prefer to just forget about all this stuff, and i hope she has.

[cerise] i was frustrated she wouldn’t tell me the truth, but i get it now. this may be a classic story, but it’s still, you know, an embarrassing one. if i found out my boyfriend were a married man tomorrow, i would melt into the floor and stay there.

[grant] anyway, i know we’ve been sitting here all of ten minutes, but i should let you go. once i finish drinking this coffee, i will get out of your hair. you have things to do–exciting things. go pack and travel and have fun and all that.

[cerise] hey, you don’t have to leave already!

[grant] no, i don’t want to take up your afternoon. at least no more than enough to tell you what you were waiting a few weeks to hear.

[cerise] i mean, i blocked out time to do that and talk to you generally for a bit.

[cerise] i don’t know how to go about all this, but i wasn’t planning on benefiting off your connection to your–our?–dad and then peacing out. i figured we could be acquainted, if nothing else.

[cerise] unless that’s too much for you, in which case, totally get it. no pressure. my existence must be weird for your mom and siblings. i'm assuming you have siblings.

[cerise] or maybe they don’t know. i also get it if you’re keeping this situation on the down-low. i can assure you that you’d not be alone in that. i'm not sure i could tell my parents right now that i know about my origins or that i've met my bio dad’s son. not yet.

[grant] definitely don’t do that before the big anniversary trip. but no, don’t worry about that either. i don’t have siblings. not anymore. and my mom...let’s not even go there. there’s nothing to worry about on those fronts.

[grant] it’s not that it’s too much, basically. i have zero problems with you, and i have no family left who would have a problem with you either, so.

[grant] i just don’t want to be in your way, not today or at any point in the future, and i will be. you don’t need my dad around; you don’t really need me either.

[cerise] i don’t care if you are, honestly. you are my brother. that feels weird to say, but you are, and you haven’t done anything wrong. i'd like to know my brother.

[cerise] this is maybe the only regretful, i don’t know if that’s the right word, part of all the secrecy and the way i came to be. i get along with my step-siblings. what’s wrong with getting along with the half-siblings? or half-sibling?

[grant] i should have also warned you i'm kind of in a dour mood entirely because of my dad. sorry. not because of you or this whole thing, though, to be clear.

[grant] i wanted to meet to get all this off my mind so i have no other reason to think about him, hopefully, for the rest of my life. i'll be in a more conversational mood soon-ish, once i'm done thinking about him.

[grant] this is going to make me wishy-washy. i don’t want to be in your way; i don’t want to be a source of awkwardness in your family if they ever know you know me, but…

[grant] okay. i wouldn’t mind getting along with my half-sibling. maybe we could meet up when you have time again.

[cerise] yeah, i'll text you. i might be busy for a while with work when i'm back from my trip, but…

[grant] text me anytime. we’ll figure it out.

[perfectlyvalid49]

I think that there are some people who are unfamiliar with the history of antisemitism who aren’t seeing all the different angles of attack that are being used against Jews in the United States right now, so let’s take a minute to examine them.

First, there’s the super obvious attacks that are listed here. The shootings at Tree of Life and at Poway, the Unite the Right rally, the massive increase in antisemitic hate crimes – these are all obviously antisemitic, and really difficult to deny as such unless you’re already really antisemitic.

But we have to take a step back and ask why people are becoming increasingly violent against Jews. Because that’s where there’s antisemitism that a lot of people either don’t see, or refuse to acknowledge. And that’s what @procrazedfan is missing when they said “I don’t think so this time.”

So, I want to start by talking about about the Nazis. Because they also went after non-Jewish people. They targeted non-Aryans, trans people, the rest of the LGBT+ community, and eventually people of other faiths. That list looks awfully similar to the one upthread. But Nazis went after these people because they thought that they were tools Jews were using to destroy German society. And the Republicans are going after these people because they’re tools that the globalists are using to destroy white society. And by globalist, they absolutely mean Jew. There are a million conspiracy theories floating around about why things are so terrible, and virtually all of them point to globalists (Jews), or the Rothschilds (Jews) or George Soros (a Jew) as the base of the problem.

And before anyone starts to think that this is only a problem on the right, the left has the same sort of conspiracies, just tailored to their beliefs, and using the words "Zionist" or "Israel" to mean Jews instead. Trump is in power, at least in part, because the left was too busy attacking Jews or people they perceived to be allies of Jews to even consider the harms a Trump presidency might bring.

And if you’re response to that is, “Well, yeah, but Jews aren’t being directly targeted by Trump’s policies,” then first off, you’re wrong, a lot of Jews are being/will be directly harmed by the laws enforcing Christian supremacy that he’s enabling (just as a start), but also, you’re falling for the plan. You see, for centuries, when kings didn’t want the populace mad at them, they’d find a way to redirect to the Jews. In medieval Europe, this looked like making tax collector one of the few jobs available to Jews, and then getting the commoners mad at the tax *collectors* instead of the guy levying the tax. Hundreds of years later Jews STILL have a reputation of being greedy, even though they were basically just guys who worked for the IRS because the other option was to starve.

Under Trump, it’s going to look like Jews not being the target of legislation that hurts other people. When those people and their allies are rightfully mad that they’re being hosed, it will not be hard for a few people in the right places to shift that anger from the administration (where it belongs) onto the people the administration wants you mad at.

We’re already starting to see this in action. Trump is cracking down on the pro-Palestine protesters in the name of fighting antisemitism. He’s actually testing out how far he can go with limiting freedom of speech and doesn’t care at all about antisemitism, but because he says it’s to fight antisemitism, people who care about freedom of speech are going to be mad about Jews “weaponizing antisemitism” to silence their detractors, and not at the administration that’s actually doing the silencing.

People are going to be mad under the Trump administration. I cannot imagine a future in which he does not make things worse for almost everyone*, and I think it’s going to be bad enough that the populace is going to need the pressure release of a mass violent action, and that’s where this is all going to come together. The right and left both already have conspiracies about how what they’re mad about is the Jews’ fault, and the administration is going to stoke that by making it look like we’re benefiting from their bad actions. They’re coming for us, it’s just slow enough and subtle enough that people who have forgotten what it looked like in the past won’t see it.

*I actually think that with what he’s going to for climate change, he’ll make things worse for actually everyone, even the people who benefit the most from his administration, but that’s a separate rant.

"The fascists hate you too" "they'll come for you next" bitch they are coming for me first. I'm fucking Jewish

[tayswife]

— braid my hair, kiss my lips

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda gets frustrated with her hair. elphaba ends up braiding it for her. or, glinda spirals over not being able to braid her hair and gay witches end up kissing.

☆ a/n: when i’m talking about them getting reading for fencing training class im talking about that one clip in what is this feeling but i have no idea if that’s actually fencing or not helpppp…

glinda sat at her vanity, across the room from elphaba who was sitting on her bed with a book opened in her lap. she was waiting on her recently new friend, glinda, to finish getting reading so they could head off to fencing training class. arriving together to class had been something that they had began doing without even discussing it. they seemed to be constantly together lately.

glinda groaned, loud enough for anyone outside of their dorm room to hear, and she threw her face into her hands. elphaba looked up at her frustrated friend and closed her book. even though they were friends now, elphaba was still skeptical of glinda. she wasn’t entirely sure what the girl’s intentions were quiet yet. she didn’t hate her, she was just unsure.

elphaba stood up off of her bed and slowly walked over to her. when glinda heard the delicate clink of her heels against the wood floor, she looked up and carefully watched elphaba through her vanity mirror.

she still looks very angry but her face seemed to soften when she saw elphaba.

“you okay?” elphaba asks.

glinda sighs, and looks down. elphaba’s expecting the blonde to start yelling about whatever problem she is currently facing, but instead, her voice is quiet and defeated, “no. my stupid hair won’t braid. i don’t know what’s wrong with it today.”

elphaba closed the large distance that was between them and stood right behind glinda. glinda’s hair was unkept and messy. elphaba thought she looked most beautiful like this. it was the glory of being roommates and seeing a side of each other that nobody else gets to see.

“would you like me to braid it for you?” elphie says it quietly as if she’s still talking to the old glinda that would cringe at her offer.

instead, glinda’s eyes widened. a soft smile appears on her pink lips. she nods, “you’d do that for me?”

“of course.” glinda’s played dress up with elphaba now that they’re friends; attempting to find her a new style, but elphie hasn’t yet been the one to help out glinda. people typically don’t go to her for fashion, and makeup, and beauty. however, to their disbelief, elphie really is great at braiding hair.

glinda gave her a smile and nod of consent and hands her friend a bright pink hairbrush. elphaba brushed through the golden locks, being extra careful to not hurt her when she brushed through the knots that glinda created from her multiple attempts at braids.

“you’re really gentle,” glinda says, “i like you brushing my hair.”

elphaba blushed. and she didn’t know why she blushed at glinda’s words either, but she did, and now she needed to compliment the blonde witch back. “well your hair is very soft so that helps a lot.”

“thank you,” glinda says softly. and that’s all either of them say, but both girls sit there thinking about the exchange and how intimate this moment feels.

elphaba eventually puts down the brush when glinda’s hair is perfectly untangled. she picks up one section of her hair and, for a moment, all she can think about is how this is the first time that her hands have been on glinda’s hair and she tries to ignore the flutter feeling in her chest.

she then separates that section into three more and starts crossing them over each other. having elphaba’s hands thread through her hair makes glinda so sleepy but her heart beating a mile a second keeps her awake.

eventually, she gets to her ends and ties it off with a tiny clear elastic that glinda handed her. it’s when she’s about to go to the second section of her hair that glinda hands her a string of baby pink ribbon. of course glinda wasn’t going to not have any accessories in her hair. that would be very un-glinda like.

elphie smiles at her through her vanity mirror and glinda smiles back. “how could i forget,” elphaba says, and then ties a perfect bow at the end to hide the elastic.

she then does the exact same thing on the other side of glinda’s head; three strands, cross them, elastic, and then the pink ribbon. frankly, she wishes she wasn’t finished. she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she enjoyed spending time like this with glinda. unbeknown to her, glinda felt the exact same feelings. unfortunately though, they had to get to class and glinda didn’t have any more hair to braid.

“for once it’s you giving me the makeover,” glinda teases and turns around in her stool to face her friend. they’re now very very close and elphaba thinks she should probably take a step back but her brain and feet seem to be unconnected right now.

“i actually didn’t mind it,” she says, and they both giggle. she wanted to say that she actually very much enjoyed it but she couldn’t blow her cover. “you look nice in braids,” she then adds and immediately regrets it right as it falls off her tongue.

“yeah?” glinda challenges with a teasing glimmer in her eyes, but tones it down once she sees elphaba’s slightly frightened face that she’s trying so hard to suppress after giving out that compliment. “thank you. i like the way you do them.”

elphaba smiles, waiting for the silence that’ll be full of tension. yet, it doesn’t happen. glinda continues on talking. “everyone expects me to be perfect. but i’m not. i can’t even braid my own hair.”

“we all have flaws,” elphaba chimes in, though thinks to herself how she has many more than others. and how glinda is completely perfect besides the fact that she struggled to braid her hair this morning.

glinda sighs and then turns back around to stare at herself in the mirror. “i gave you so much trouble when you first got here—”

“glinda…”

“no, elphie, i did and im not even perfect. i acted like i was. like i was better than you.”

“you’ve changed,” elphaba counteracts. shes still skeptical about glinda, however, her acts at the ozdust make her believe that the pink witch might truly be different than their first encounters.

“but it’s not fair,” she says louder, almost like she’s fighting with herself, “you have to deal with it! everyday! but really, i’m the imperfect one yet i’m the one everyone follows.”

elphaba then sighs. she walks away, and glinda thinks she might’ve upset elphaba and struck a nerve. but then she sees the witch pull up a chair beside her and then she’s grabbing glinda’s hand and holding them so tightly yet so gentle.

“it’s not your fault, glinda. i’ve been dealing with it since the moment i was born and i’ve mostly learned how to deal.”

“but it’s not fair,” glinda says very quietly and then looks down at her lap; at their green and pale hands intertwined. glinda thinks, they clash so nicely with each other.

“it’s not,” elphaba agrees. she doesn’t know where she’d found this current confidence deep inside her but she puts her fingers under glinda’s chin and tilts her head up so they’re face to face again. “but it’s the way it is.”

this sudden gesture from elphie sparks something in glinda. her big brown eyes are open wider than usual, and right as elphaba speaks the last syllable, glinda’s leaning forward and deeply kissing her.

elphaba’s entire body freezes and she doesn’t kiss back because, frankly, she doesn’t entirely process what’s happening at first. she actually isn’t sure it truly is happening.

glinda quickly pulls back and she’s quick to start moving her lips to speak rather than to kiss, “oh my— i’m so so sorry. i don’t know what—” glinda goes to stand up, or at least attempts to, but elphie grabs her wrists and brings her back down to her stool. at this point, glinda doesn’t even bother to finish what she was saying.

elphaba had never kissed anyone once before, but everything feels so easy with glinda. and that’s the most surprising of it all, she thinks. she leans in before glinda can say anything else and starts kissing her for real this time.

she’s impossibly close to her that she can strongly smell the sweet notes of fresh flowers and vanilla that always radiating off of glinda. the blonde witch then places her hand on elphaba’s thigh as to steady herself, or maybe to even work elphie up.

elphaba’s green lips are so incredibly soft but she really didn’t expect any less of her. despite what everyone else thinks, glinda is with her all the time and can argue that elphaba isn’t a disgusting monster but rather a beautiful girl that isn’t any different besides the green color on her flesh.

they finally pull away and stare at each other, both with puffy lips. some of glinda’s pink lipstick had rubbed off onto elphaba’s lips. pink goes well with green, she quickly thinks back to the morning after the ozdust. it so does. she doesn’t even want to tell elphaba because she looks so pretty and she doesn’t want her to wipe it off.

just then, while glinda’s reminiscing, does elphie remember the reason she has braided her hair in the first place, the reason they even ended up in this position. they had to get to class. elphaba’s never late to class but by the looks of the clock, it started five minutes ago.

“glinda,” elphaba says, as if they didn’t just practically eat each others faces off.

the blonde hums a yes, oblivious to where they should be right now.

“we were supposed to be to class five minutes ago.” glinda smirks at her, clearly not as worried. frankly, this wasn’t her favorite class and kissing elphaba seems way more important than fencing training.

“can’t we skip?” glinda asks, knowing what the answer was going to be and so she put her best puppy dog face on and continued, “i wanna keep kissing you.”

“glinda, i can’t afford to miss class. you can’t either!”

“you’ve never missed a class in your life. i think i can get us out of it.”

glinda stares at her with big pleading eyes. elphaba stares back as if though she’s internally fighting with herself. she’s a perfect student yet then again, what would missing one fencing class do?

“alright fine,” she says, and the other girl squeals in excitement, “but we aren’t making this a frequent thing.”

“can we make the kissing a frequent thing?” glinda asks, biting down on her bottom lip as if she were trying to stimulate the feeling of elphaba lips.

“i think we can make that work,” elphaba says, and once again, pulls glinda back in for more. it certainly wasn’t going to be the only time glinda’s charm made her absent for class.

[ladysomething]

✄ for wygig please 💞

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

actually!!! I now have a DOCUMENT with deleted scenes lmaooo.

one of them is absolutely huge, and it was originally supposed to be in the chapter where Max is in Milton Keynes. he runs into a pregnant omega in a restaurant and helps her get back on her feet. it's a really lovely scene, but was ultimately cut bc it added absolutely nothing to the story, HOWEVER I have it set aside because I'm going to repurpose it as a one shot eventually!

but here are parts that I cut from the most recent chapter.

when I originally this part, the necklace gifting and courting discussion was in like 5 chapters time, and I ultimately cut the below because ... well, there was less time between them getting together and the courting talk, so it no longer made sense.

“Do you think we fight too much?” Charles asks, reaching up to touch the pendant that’s now resting between his pecs. 

“We never fight,” Max says dismissively. 

Charles laughs. “Max, we disagree about everything. Our miscommunication is ridiculous at this point. Every time I think we have it under control, there’s just another thing we have to figure out.” 

Max drops his hands. Charles turns back around, feeling warm and happy despite the conversation he’s brought up. 

“I don’t think it’s a problem,” Max says eventually. “Because I—because we work through them, right?” 

Charles gives him a small smile, finger caressing where the two circles interlock. “Right,” he agrees softly. 

“I love you,” Max murmurs. “More than—more than anything. But there are always going to be things we disagree on. And I’m not keeping secrets purposefully.” 

“You have a couple times,” Charles says. “About what the other alphas in the paddock were saying. About what you were going to do about them.” 

Max purses his lips. “I’m working on it,” he says eventually. “I’ve never had a—a person before. A partner. Someone who would want to know, or who I could trust with it.” 

Charles softens, and reaches out to take Max’s hand in his own. “Me either,” he admits. “But I want this to work, Max. So much.” 

“I do, too,” Max says, squeezing his hand back. “It’s only been a few weeks since we—since the yacht. We’ll figure this out together.” 

this next scene was also part of the chapter, and was literally included until about an hour before I posted the chapter. actually, fun fact, that scene also changed WILDLY at the last minute - all that talk about deciding to properly court and get married and return the claim was added on the day of posting lmaooo. the below is how the scene originally ended (basically max gave the gift, Charles got mad, max tried to take the gifts away, Charles got mad about that too, and then Charles told Max that courting means nothing to him and that he doesn't want to do it, and then they left it at that, and then when Charles went to kiss Max the below conversation happened).

probably I'll end up repurposing that final line from Charles, because it's good and worth saying.

“Just—before we do,” he says, a little nervously. “To be clear, this time. What do you think we are?” 

“You’re my—” He breaks off, unsure what to say. Boyfriend sounds stupid. Partner, maybe. Mate? Except, technically, Charles is his mate, but Max isn’t Charles’. Eventually, he settles on, “You’re my Max. You’re mine.” 

A slow smile creeps up Max’s face. “I am yours,” he swears. “And you’re mine?” 

“I am,” Charles says, a smile blooming wide on his own lips. “Entirely, completely, in every way you can think of.”  

[jiangfamilytherapist]

All reader reactions to character interactions are colored by said reader’s life experiences, but to me it seems this is especially the case with parent/child dynamics. For this reason, I believe There Are A Lot Of Valid Takes on YZY and JFM’s parenting, and all of them have to do with lived experience— you don’t need to have had an abusive/neglectful etc. parent/guardian for your own familial frame of reference to become an interpretive lens, whether through comparison or contrast. We all do it.

So here’s what I see:

It takes two to tango, sure, but I can’t pretend that I see Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian as equal agents in the dynamic that emotionally scars their children. That is to say JFM’s Neglect ≠ YZY’s Abuse. And actually, I think terminology is important here, because truly JFM is not neglectful, he is emotionally unavailable, specifically to Jiang Cheng. JFM does in fact ensure that all of JC’s needs are met or exceeded, minus emotional connection. This is not me absolving JFM; emotional distance and feelings of inadequacy learned from parents can fuck with mental health, but in my view JFM is mainly at fault for being a bystander where he should have been a protector. He fails both boys in this. This is a common occurrence where one parent is abusive, and is part of the broader cycle of abuse. It’s not a simple thing.

As for the emotional distance, I don’t think Madam Yu helps. Maybe JC reminds JFM of his mom a little bit (and it’s worth mentioning that JFM doesn’t actually hate YZY by all indications) but it seems pretty dang evident that the bigger problem is her constantly shoving JC in front of JFM and being like WHY DO YOU LOVE YOUR SON LESS… I feel like that would potentially strain any attempt at father/son bonding. It can’t just be JC who hears those words echoing in his skull. Even if it isn’t true, the accusation’s out there and that is awkward to get past at best, not to mention requiring more emotional intelligence than either father or son possesses. It’s a hurdle they’d both struggle to clear.

Honestly, if I had to guess why JFM is better at dealing with WWX (which I find a little funny since at that age most people would find WWX to be way harder to deal with than JC), I’d say that WWX’s constant cheerful masking means that JFM doesn’t have to deal with all those icky complicated negative emotions with him. From a disciplinary standpoint, WWX is definitely the problem child, but again the masking means that from an emotional standpoint he is the “easier” child to deal with, because at that time of his life he hadn’t really let his mental or emotional health be anyone else’s problem since he was little.

I don’t have data to back this hunch, but I think all parents give their kids at least some issues unintentionally. There are also parents whose behavior is overtly damaging to their kids’ present and future wellbeing, like Madam Yu, and there are also parents who hurt their kids—inadvertently—by omission or inaction. This is all to say that I don’t personally think that the accusation that JFM didn’t love JC, or that he loved him less, is really in evidence (especially as portrayed in The Untamed). Nothing I see indicates to me that he is actually disdainful or apathetic towards JC, but the shortcomings in his parenting really did deeply hurt Jiang Cheng, and I find that hurt to be wholly understandable.

[snakeflower-cottage]

And post pictures too, sims townie lookin ass

(Also being a published author doesn’t mean you know anything, and I actually don’t have a problem with them either it wasn’t a fight, she asked me for clarification and I gave clarification.)

Witchcraft vocabulary I’m surprised is still used in 2025:

- Witchy

- Magick

- Energy

- Karma

- The Goddess™️

- G slur

- Baby witch