#i love putting things in boxes but never be untrue to yourself for the sake of confirtmity!! even in queer soa

[despazito]

Labels and shared label communities are good but if you're so steeped in them to the point where learning something new about yourself that suddenly transgresses said self imposed labels to the point that you feel you need to "come out" all over again maybe take a step back. It's ok, be undescribable, the girlies love a little mystery

[chincilla-on-the-moon]

“I like you too idiot.”- Connor Murphy X Reader

Request: can u do a connor x reader where reader is being pretty annoyed with Jared on the first day (like when he calls him a school shooter) and he steps in and defends her leading timo a nice friendship and a love confession from Connor at the end? I’m sending love, and if u can’t it is really ok, everyone’s mental health is important, pls don’t feel overwhelmed 💕✨🦋- Anon 

Word Count: 2,542

Warnings: A couple swears and Jared Klienman being a dick. (also Connor is probs written ooc but whatever)

Authors note: Hi everyone! First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who requested something! I am trying to work on them but I recently fell into a really bad place mentally but I’m working on making it better. I hope to have the other requests out soon but please be patient with me. Also anon I used they/them pronouns for the reader as those are my pronouns and I want to make sure everyone can I enjoy my writing regardless of gender so I hope that okay.  As always thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day/night! :) <3 (Also any feedback is very appreciated. )

First day of senior year. To say you weren’t excited would be the understatement of the century. Sure you were excited to finally get out of your hometown but you had to get through the school year first and if the previous years were any indication of how this year was going to go, well lets just say it's going to be a long year. 

You pulled into the student parking lot in your shitty car and saw there were a couple extra minutes before you actually had to be in the building, With that in mind you decided to just put your head down  on the steering wheel for a few minutes to prepare yourself for the day ahead. 

That peace was short lived though because not even�� 30 seconds later did a dark truck pulled up next to you. Before the car could even come to a stop Zoe Murphy flew out of the passenger seat. She flipped off the driver, who you presumed was her brother Connor, and slammed the door before storming off into the school. “Jesus” you mutter  to yourself. Then another door slammed and Connor Murphy appeared in front of the truck, talking and gesturing wildly to himself. You could only make out bits and pieces of what the boy was saying before he went into the school like his sister. You heard him say something about his mom and his bitch sister and not even wanting to be there. Well at least you weren't alone in the feeling. Following the Murphy siblings you begrudgingly went into the building. The friendly secretary greated you and handed you your schedule which had your locker number on it. After searching for a few minutes you found it and just as you were starting to put things in your locker  you heard his voice, Jared Klienman. He was talking to Evan Hansen and you prayed to whatever higher being that could hear you that he would leave you alone. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t L/N.” You could practically hear the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face. You were about to turn around and tell him to go away but before you could someone comes between the two of you blocking Jared from your view. 

“Fuck off Klienman” says the last person you expected, Connor Murphy. 

“Woah calm down Murphy, I’m just trying to have a conversation with Y/N here” Jared says starting to back up and putting his arms up as a way of showing his surrender.

“Well they obviously don’t want to talk to you. Now get out of here before I punch that stupid smirk off your dumb face,” Connor says squaring off his shoulders in an attempt to look even more intimidating than usual. It worked quite well because Jared was practically running off but not before making a dig at Connor.

“Yeah whatever you fucking freak.”

You saw Connor’s shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists. You didn’t know what to do but figured it would be best to leave the boy alone, so you just fidgeted with your hands. He took a deep breath then turned to face you. 

“Uhm thanks for that. You really didn’t have to,” you say avoiding eye contact with him, which was quite easy considering how tall he was compared to you. 

“No problem, I know how much of a dick Klienman can be.” 

“Yeah he’s the worst,” you say scoffing lightly. Then the bell signaling you were supposed to be in homeroom rang.“See you around Connor. Thanks again,” you say before turning to shut your locker and rush to class. 

“Yeah see you around,” Connor says to no one because you were already down the hall.

The rest of the day wasn’t much better, nothing happened in particular but it just still wasn’t the best. After what felt like an eternity it was finally the last bell of the day, creative writing. You weren’t particularly interested in writing but you had a bell to fill so you figured why not. When you walked in you did a scan of the room and saw Connor, he had an empty seat next to him at the back of the room so you decided to sit it in. “Hey,” you say, startling the boy who was previously staring into space. 

“Oh hey.”

“Thanks again for this morning, I really appreciate it dude,” you say making eye contact with Connor so he would know you actually meant what you were saying.

“Oh yeah, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving you a small smile. You smiled back just as your teacher walked in which caused the conversation to end. 

“Good afternoon class! I hope all of your days have been tolerable,” says your teacher Mr. Davidson. He was a younger man in his early 30’s which meant everyone liked him including you.  “Instead of doing an ice breaker where you all lie about how interesting your summers were I want you to get to actually get to know someone in this class a little better,” he says from behind his podium at the front of the class. You were starting to panic a little, who were you going to partner up with? None of your kind of friends were in this class!  Then Connor cleared his throat grabbing your attention.

“Hey Y/N, wanna be partners?” The nervous energy was practically radiating off the boy. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sure Connor.” The two of you then got up and turned your desks to face each other like the other pairs were doing. “So Murphy what’s your deepest darkest secret?” you say, smirking.

“Woah L/N, not even going to ask me my favorite color or anything?” he says chuckling.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you say playfully rolling your eyes. “What’s your favorite color Connor?” 

“Dark green. What about you L/N? What's your favorite color?”

“Y/F/C,” you say. “It’s been my favorite since I was younger,” you say shrugging.

“I respect that. It’s a good color.” 

“Yeah whatever, now can I hear your deepest secret?”, you say almost like a child.

“Wow you’re still on this?”, he says with amusement evident in his tone. 

“Yeah I am!” you say in a mock seriousness. “Mr. Davidson says we are supposed to actually get to know each other and that’s what I’m trying to do Murphy!” 

“You’re absolutely right Y/N,” he says suddenly very serious.

“Okay fine I’ll tell you but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. 

“Not a soul,” you say staring at him intently and sitting at the edge of your seat. 

“Well, here goes nothing.” He made eye contact and it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “I’m pregnant.”

You maintained eye contact until you actually processed what he said, then the two of you started laughing which caused the rest of the class to turn and look at you but for once you didn’t even care because you were actually happy for the first time in what felt like forever. 

The rest of the class went by faster than you or Connor wanted it to, but the two of you walked out to the student parking lot together and paused when you reached your cars. “Uh see you tomorrow I guess,” you say but it comes out as more of a question. 

“Yeah see you tomorrow Y/N”, Connor says very confidently which surprised you both. You waved as a final goodbye and got into your cars. As you were driving home you thought about all the awful things you heard about Connor in the past and how untrue they were. Sure he was intimidating at first glance but he’s six feet tall for goodness sake who wouldn’t be intimidated by that. You could tell from the short  class period you spent getting to know him that he was simply misunderstood.  Suddenly you were glad you never listened to what all the popular kids said about Connor. 

As the school year went on you and Connor developed a sort of unspoken ritual, you would wait for Connor to get to school then you two would walk to homeroom together and then walk to your cars when the school day was over. The two of you became good friends and you found yourself actually looking forward to waking up in the morning so you could see him. The pair of you  had hung out outside of school a few times and you had actually met Connor’s mom, granted it was an accident but it still happened. 

You and Connor decided to hang out at his house because his family wasn’t home that afternoon, the two of you were lounging on the couch watching some weird movie when you heard the front door open. “Connor dear? Is that you in there?” Suddenly an middle aged woman with red hair appeared with reusable grocery bags in her hands. 

“Mom?!” Connor jumped up from the couch in a panic. “I thought you had yoga today?!”

“Class was canceled because Cindy wasn’t feeling well. Oh I stopped by the store and  got those  snacks you asked for!” she said coming into the living room box in hand. “Oh? Connor, who's your friend?” she said with a small smile appearing on her lips. 

“Hi Mrs. Murphy. I’m Y/N,” you said nervously. 

“Oh call me Cynthia dear,” she said, shooting you a smile. 

After that Cynthia invited you to stay for dinner but you already had plans with your parents that night. She invited you a couple times after that as well. You never actually went cause Connor didn’t want you to but still it was nice to know she liked you enough to invite you to dinner. 

As fall came to a close the two of you  became attached at the hip, constantly talking to one another whether it was in person or through the phone. Once the holiday season rolled around you guys got each other gifts. You got Connor a signed book from his favorite author and he got you a vinyl you had been wanting for a while.

 Once the holiday break was over the end of the first semester came quickly and you couldn’t wait to finally be done with your half year courses and start the new ones. Unfortunately you had to take finals before you could be done. Although you only had two finals you were still extremely stressed out. Sure they were easy classes but the teachers were notorious for giving impossible finals. You spent the few days before the finals studying whenever there was a free moment. Connor knew you were stressed so he helped you the best he could. He offered to have study sessions even though none of his classes had finals, he went over quizlets on video calls, and he even brought you a drink with way too much caffeine on the mornings he knew you didn’t sleep. 

Once the day arrived he texted you good luck. You went into the first test and totally nailed it. Before the next testing time there was a break and when you checked your phone you saw Connor had texted you telling you how proud he was of you for studying so hard and reassuring you that you had these exams in the bag. You sent him a quick “thank you :))” and went into the testing room for the second time. This exam was a little harder than the last but you still thought you did decent. There were a couple times where Connor and his stupid mneumonic devices actually came in handy. Letting out a giant breath of relief as you stepped out of the testing room you couldn’t wait to tell Connor about how much he helped. When you reached your locker and got your phone out of it you saw Connor had asked if you wanted to hang out when you were done. Obviously you said yes and told him to pick you up at your house in 15. You drove home and changed out of your testing outfit which was just sweatpants and a hoodie and put on something a little more presentable. Sure you were just going to hang out with your best friend but he also is the boy you’ve been pining over for months. You’ve always found Connor attractive and when he put dickhead Klienman in his place that made him all the more hot. But then you really got to know him and you fell. Hard.  He was sweet, caring, smart, and funny. Sure he had his moments but so did everyone on the planet. He had actually opened up to you about his struggles with his mental health and you did everything you could to support him. You encouraged him to ask his parents for therapy, and always made sure he took his meds in the morning. You were there for him and he was always there for you.  

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the horn of Connor’s truck outside your house. You rushed outside and got into the passenger seat, “So where to Murphy?”

“I was thinking we could get some food and just chill in a parking lot somewhere. Sound cool?”

“Definitely. I’ve missed hanging out with you. Stupid finals,” you say with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Yeah I’ve missed hanging out with you too dork,” he says reaching over the center console and ruffling your hair. 

“Connor Murphy! I just brushed my hair and here you go messing it up!” you say while trying to fix your now disbelieved hair. 

“Whatever L/N. It still looks fine to me.”  Although it was barely a compliment, heat still rushed to your cheeks. He pulled out of your driveway and the two of you were off. On the way to get food you guys caught up talking about everything you missed in the world of Connor because you were too focused on finals. He told you he finished a TV show you recommend and loved it.  You made it to the drive through and Connor ordered, already knowing what you wanted from your many midnight outings. Once you got your food you made your way to the plaza parking lot where the restaurant was located. For the first couple minutes the two of you sat in a comfortable silence listening to the playlist Connor had made for this type of occasion. After a few minutes Connor suddenly spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Connor dearest you know you can tell me anything,” you say with a french fry in your mouth, not even bothering to look at him. 

“I like you.” You choked on the fry you had in your mouth. 

“Pardon?” you say through a cough. 

“I said I like you,” he says, a little less sure of himself. When you looked over at Connor you saw he was staring straight ahead. 

“Hey Connor.” 

“Mhm,” he says, not daring to move. 

“Look at me.” He just barely turned his head towards you. “I like you too idiot.”

[innuendostudios]

The next video in my series on Alt-Right rhetorical strategies. You can help this series come out regularly, as well as support my other work, by backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, there's this feminist media critic whose work you respect. Being an internet-savvy human in the information age, you sometimes share your opinions of her work on your various social media platforms. And you've noticed, whenever you speak positively of her, many different people come out to yell the same handful of things at you.

It usually starts with, "How can you support that conwoman after she stole thousands of dollars from people?"

And you say, "No, she didn't steal anything, she ran a crowdfunding campaign that people contributed willingly to, and overwhelmingly those people seem satisfied with their donations."

And they say, "Yeah, she asked for a hundred thousand dollars for a shitty little project."

And you say, "No, she got a hundred thousand, because people got excited about her work and gave her more than she asked for, but the original pitch was only 10k. Also, how many times have you given that number to people without looking it up?"

And they say, "Yeah, she asked for 10k and then never finished anything."

And you say, "No, she finished the project earlier this year. Of course it took longer than it was originally pitched, you get ten times what you ask for you’re kind of obligated to make a bigger project, because, if you didn't, that would be running away with ninety grand..."

Now, by this time you’ve noticed your interlocutor's position has changed from "she stole from people" to "she asked too much to begin with" to "she took too long to deliver" as though these are all the same argument. You also notice the pattern of the conversation: he says something short, quippy, and wrong, you give a detailed correction, he says something else short, quippy, wrong, and only tangentially related to his last point, and the cycle repeats itself. This goes on and on.

And it's not, you've noticed, just this discussion; you find this manner of argument often whenever you express left-of-center beliefs. You talk about the election, someone says you vote Democrat because you must have a conservative father you hate; you talk about polyamory, someone says if you have more than one female partner you must be a sexist; or they just say you're faking a non-regional accent. (I don’t understand that one, either.)

The running theme here is all these people who ostensibly want a frank exchange of ideas spend a lot more time making accusations than asking questions. Because, why ask what you believe when they can tell you what you believe and make you correct them? And if you ever don’t correct them, must be because they’re right.

And you're not naive; you see what's going on here. This isn't about conversation, it's about boxes. When you say something cogent that they don't agree with, and they get the sinking feeling that you might start making sense, they need a reason not to listen to you. So they reach for a box to stick you in: dishonest feminism, fake progressivism, daddy-issue liberalism. No one in those boxes is worth listening to, which means, as long as they've got you in one, they're not at risk of having their minds changed. This isn’t even an argument with you, not really; their presenting themselves with arguments for why they don't have to listen to you.

So your first reflex is to defy their expectations. "Actually, my dad was a draft-dodging hippie who told me he loved me every day." "And I never said what genders my partners are but I promise they're all feminists." "As for my accent- actually, I don't know what to do with the accent thing." But the point is, “I refuse to fit in your box.” And if they can't put you in one, if they can't dismiss you outright, they'll have to engage with your argument.

But if you've spent any time arguing with angry dudes online you know what I'm about to say: They don’t. This accusatory, condescending attitude never falters. Because a technique that has permeated anti-progressivism is to Never Play Defense.

Now don't get me wrong, what I said about the Right fitting the Left into simplified boxes as a way of preserving their own egos, I do think that's a thing, at least for many people much of the time. And I think the reassurance it brings is why the technique stays so popular. But that framing is about how individual people are feeling in isolated moments, and leaves out the larger game that's being played. Because there is a long-term strategic value to never playing defense, and it's less to do with arguments than with attitude.

From your perspective, this debate about the feminist is a joke. This guy doesn't know what he's talking about, he comes in hot without confirming any of his assumptions, the whole conversation is you repeatedly schooling an ignorant dipshit. But that's only if you’re the fool who listens to what’s actually being said. Never Play Defense is a strategy that looks past language to posture; the tone, word choice, even the expressions on your faces. If you half-focus your eyes and look not at the words but the flow of the conversation, you can see the dynamic at play:

He says his short, quippy statement, and you give your detailed rebuttal. He then picks a single point from your response and attacks that as the new subject. Now, to an onlooker, the logical brain would register that he's leaving 90% of your argument on the table, and that, by changing positions, he's conceding he lost the first round. But the lizard brain notices that he's always making the accusations, always in the dominant position, that he's always acting and you're always reacting. Regardless of what is said, he displays all the outward signs of winning. So, on a purely emotional level, he leaves the impression of being right.

I have never had an argument look like this that wasn’t in public. This is a technique that means speaking not so much to the other person as to the people watching. Liberals tend to operate as though voters are beings of pure reason, and neglect that rational people still have emotions, and those emotions factor into what they believe. And that long after this argument is over, when people only half-remember what was said, what lingers on is what impressions the speakers made.

Ronald Reagan coined the phrase, "If you're explaining, you're losing." The trick is, if he's always accusing, then you're always explaining.

This technique of winning by looking like you’re winning is not new, and, historically, it's been used by both parties. But modern liberals seem especially susceptible to it because it plays on one of their big weaknesses, which is - and I say this with love - the liberal fantasy of putting someone in their place.

Any time a free speech warrior gets the Bill of Rights quoted to them, when a racist gets "historical accuracy" explained by an actual historian, liberals take screencaps. We put it on Storify. We pass that shit around like theater popcorn. We live for the day an ignorant prick gets dunked on.

I remind you: this was the central conceit of an entire TV show. [West Wing clip.]

But let me ask you: in all these scenarios, who's doing all the explaining?

The reason scenes like this are so satisfying is precisely because they activate the emotions. Everyone wants to be Joseph Welch telling off McCarthy, where an appeal to reason looks like winning. But the Right has learned that, if you never look like you’re losing, you can convince a lot of people that you’re not. And, if you keep your statements short and punchy, people will remember what you said better than they remember the long explanation of why it’s untrue. If done correctly, you might even convince yourself you know what you’re talking about.

Now, again, this is not exclusive to the Right - this is how most teenagers argue regardless of their politics, where it’s less important to be right than it is to be better than someone. But mixed with Control the Conversation - see previous video - the Right has a full-bodied cocktail for manipulating how the Left argues.

But where it gets dangerous is in how the Alt-Right has capitalized on this.

This argument isn’t just about sticking a woman in the Lying Feminism box so she doesn’t have to be listened to, it’s also signaling to anyone watching what box they should stick her in. Even if an onlooker recognizes that she literally did not con anyone out of their money, the idea that how much she asked for and how long she took to deliver are relevant to her credibility is still planted in their heads. It subtly suggests that, the next time they feel threatened by a female media critic, maybe they should look at how much money she makes, how long her work takes to produce; maybe they don’t have to listen to her, because they’ve got this handy box.

So what’s most valuable to the Alt-Right is not who wins or loses any individual argument, it’s the mechanics of the argument itself; it’s the boxes. Over the last several years the far Right has pushed hard on a number of reductive categories: the Cultural Marxism box, the Reverse Racism box, even terms like “beta” and “mangina” are just shorthands for the Failed Masculinity box. The Alt-Right is a box factory, putting huge swaths of Leftist rhetoric, most especially that that would rebut their core positions, into categories where they can be summarily ignored.

These myths have power if and only if they are immediately recognizable to a lot of people. One function of this aggressive posturing is that they want to provoke an argument, to be so pompous that you’re itching to publicly take this asshole down, which gives that asshole access to your followers. It’s about them introducing a myth to your audience and reinforcing that myth for theirs. And that myth gets spread even when you feel like you’re winning.

I can’t tell you the best way to deal with this, but I do know one way, which is to keep control of your own story. When someone comes out the gate with accusations, it’s a big red flag that they are not arguing in good faith. You are not required to argue with them. When someone says something untrue, you can just tell your audience what the truth is without acknowledging the lie or the one repeating it. A detailed explanation lands a lot better when it’s not being contrasted with a sound bite. Decide for yourself how your audience gets acquainted with a popular fiction, and never be too proud to delete a comment.

In this political climate, these debates have real impact on real people’s lives. They’re not, in fact, a game of football. So if someone tries to force you to play defense, you don’t have to play.

[themoral-dilemma-blog]

I Want To Know What Love Is|| Marley and Katherine (Chatzy)(POTW)

Katherine held onto Lysander’s hand until their distance compelled the bond to break. Wistfully, she watched him trek up the grassy slope, still wet and muddy from the recent snowfall. The weather had warmed up considerably and they’d been able to lay a heavy blanket on a dry area of rock by the pond. It was picturesque. She’d never been the romantic type--to take a half day and simply relax. She wasn’t geared that way. She worked, and when she was finished work, she trained or more recently, spent a considerable amount of time training her niece. But also she’d never met a man quite like this one. She bit down on a strawberry, lounging back onto the blanket when she heard the soft crunch of earth from behind her. “Did you forget something?” She grinned wide, glancing behind her. Instead of the love of her life, there stood Marley. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Following me now, are you?” She spat bitterly, the sour turn of their recent conversation still fresh in her mind.

Marley had found herself taking a trek through the woods considerably more here than she ever had back in Ashford. Perhaps it was the gravitating wanderlust her feet had seemed to pick up ever since being thrust into this dimension, longing for a place to belong, longing to go home-- but finding it gone and occupied each time she walked the place. She belonged nowhere here, especially not in the place she'd wedged herself into. Into her other self's life. But things couldn't really be that bad. She had a purpose here. Still, her wandering mind and her restless legs often found her out into the skirts of the town. Today, they found her upon a most interesting scene. Katherine, who had unjustly blocked her when she'd questioned her sudden love, and the retreating figure of who she assumed to be the recipient of said "sudden affection". Marley put her hands up in an innocent, stop motion. "As interesting as this all is to me, I did not follow you," she said shaking off the bitter tone in Katherine's voice. She found herself caring less and less about things these days, as if her purpose was slipping through her fingers. As if her vengeance no longer fulfilled her. So it was the little things that she found joy in, and the fact that Katherine was most likely under a love spell was going to be one of those things. "You know, I'm hurt that you blocked me. I was just trying to understand your undying love for this supposedly wonderful man," she swooned, hands still up in a defensive manner as she gave an apathetic shrug.

Katherine had zero intentions on apologizing. She made that clear, glancing back towards the water, picking another strawberry from the bin. “You just missed him,” she nodded towards where he’d gone off to grab more wine for the two of them. She wondered briefly why she didn’t drink wine like this as she used to either. “And he ​is​ wonderful.” He was smart, handsome and funny. Her face hurt from smiling so much--she hadn’t felt this way… well, ever. He’d been gone all of two minutes and she already missed him. “And if you hadn’t been so negative, I wouldn’t have blocked you.” She turned back to her, tossing the green part of the strawberry into the pond. “If we’re such good ​friends​, you should be supporting me. Not doubting my emotions.”

"Okay, first of all," ​Marley started, then stopped. Probably not a good idea to tell Katherine they weren't friends-- she didn't do friends. She kept people close if they had use to her, and that was it. Sometimes the use was arbitrary, sometimes it was important-- but friends weren't on her To Do list. But Katherine didn't need to know that, especially now. What was it Josephine had always told her about fitting in? Be what they want you to be. Marley lowered her hands. "You're right-- I shouldn't have doubted you. It was just...sudden, I guess?" another shrug. God, Caplan, put more emotion behind it. She sounded like a drone. Cleared her throat. "I had a bad experience with something like this myself, and I guess I was just projecting. I'm--" clenched her jaw, but forced a smile. It would be worth it in the end, if only to tease Katherine endlessly once this wore off-- "happy for you."

Katherine was ready to go right back at her when the ​First of all,​ part of that sentence began. Her eyes narrowed in her direction as she started to give way to some sort of acceptance to her new situation, though her words were of very little comfort. “You don’t sound it,” she answered sharply. She wasn’t a body language expert but it didn’t take a genius to see the hesitation in the way she uttered those last few words. She sat up on her elbow, quiet for a moment. “You had a bad experience?” She asked. Very little doubt, if any, seeped into the thought of her own relationship, but she was curious about that part of what she said. “You’ve fallen madly in love and lived happily ever after?” She raised a brow, a small smirk teasing at the corner of her lips.

Great, Katherine, ​Marley​ thought, let's focus on the one part of the sentence that ​wasn't​ about you. She resister the urge to roll her eyes and repocketed her hands deep into her coat. "Happily ever after is a joke," she muttered. And technically, for her, it was neither. She'd never been in love, nor would she ever be. She'd come to terms with that a long time ago, and was okay with it. It was just the way she was. Still, she often felt a little bitter when people talked about romantic love and how it was the ultimate goal, the be all end all. And even though Katherine was clearly under the influence of something, it still bothered her. Perhaps more for Katherine's sake than her own, but it was still there. "I don't wanna ruin our good mood with my sappy story, anyway. I just want you to tell me how happy ​you​ are--" so she could record it and play it over and over again for Katherine to hear later-- "because I do want to be happy for you. You can at least trust that, right?" A grin, more genuine this time. It took practice, and remembering everything she'd learned on how to act normal and genuine. Body language, tone, and eye contact said a lot.

“I used to think so too,” ​Katherine​ said, hearing the mutter. Even as reluctant as it may have been, Marley seemed to be ​finally​ give in to reality. A more genuine smile crossed her face and she moved over on the blanket a little, patting the spot beside her to motion for Marley to sit. “I ​am​ happy,” she said, every part of her confident about that statement. “And I know it’s sudden, which probably makes it seem ridiculous. But if you could see the way he treats me…” she shook her head, laying back on the blanket. “It’s as if we were made for one another. Like maybe I was meant to come to this crummy little town for something beyond my work. Something for ​me​.” She could picture it -- her, Lysander, Darcy. A small happy little family. “Believe me, I know how I sound, and if you’d have told me even a week ago I would ever feel like this, I’d laugh right in your face.”

It sounded ​more​ than ridiculous, but ​Marley​ kept that bit to herself as she sat down on the blanket next to Katherine. As awkward and untrue as Katherine's feelings might have been, the way she talked about it made it seem real. Warm. There was no anger here, no pain or sorrow. Marley hadn't felt something like this in a long time, and it left a weird taste in her mouth. She fed off of chaos and vengeance, so feeling what was supposedly the exact opposite of that made her inside squirm a little. "Personally, I don't think any two people are ever ​made​ specifically for each other . Soulmates and that crap is just hocus pocus, but...I get how someone could make you ​feel​ that way." That vampire had certainly been able to make her counterpart feel that way, Marley could still remember how warm the memory felt in her stomach. If she'd have been capable to, she'd almost have felt a bit bad for Katherine. Being put under the influence of something to unbecome so much of oneself-- she wondered what that would feel like. She'd have to try it out sometime. "And you don't feel weird about this at all?"

It was getting easier to weed out the negative parts of Marley’s commentary. If she had any idea about how full her chest felt at that moment, there would be no argument. ​Katherine​ glanced up, shaking her head, she realizing she pitied her a bit. More than a bit, actually. She didn’t have this. She ​couldn’t​ feel what she felt. Whoever had left her this way had did quite the number. “The whole thing is weird. Love is weird,” she smiled, reaching over, patting Marley’s knee gently as if she was consoling her. “I have no doubt that you’ll find something like this again. One broken heart shouldn’t mean you should close it forever. Everyone deserves to feel like this, even if you don’t believe it yourself.” She plucked a chocolate from the box, bringing it to her lips. “If ​I​ can find love, a bitter spinster set in her ways... ​anyone​ can.”

"Love is a chemical reaction, technically," ​Marley​ explained, but realized it was pointless to say these sorts of things to someone under a love spell, or potion, or whatever. She should probably do something about that, maybe help Katherine, since she was an asset to Marley-- but she'd let this run it's course a bit more. Besides, it wasn't like it was hurting anyone, right? And they'd all get a good kick out of it in the end. "Not everyone is wired to feel it," she mumbled, leaning back on her hands. She remembered the jar of jealousy she had stashed back in the house. It would have been useful in a time like this, but she wasn't going to waste it on something as puny as love. "Don't give me that pitiful look, either. I'm fine with it. Just...remember this chat in a week or so."

Katherine wasn’t completely sold on Marley’s assurances. Maybe some people weren’t wired for it, sure, but she pitied them as well. That light, warm feeling, the near-euphoria--why would anyone willingly miss out on these? She wondered why she’d let so many years pass without allowing herself this simple pleasure. To love and be loved. “Why, are you going to tell me about your lost love?” She asked, though as she looked just past Marley, she saw Lysander coming down the path again. There it was, that skipping in her heart. He gave a wave in the distance, a smile as big as her own, before Katherine was unable to contain it. She jumped up quickly from the blanket, dashing across the muddy grass. His arms opened and she lept into them, squeezing him for all she was worth, their laughter ringing out in hearty echoes into the air.

Marley just watched as Katherine leapt up and sprinted over to man of her affection. Or...curse, she supposed. Katherine would certainly think this a curse once it was over. She'd start looking into it tomorrow, but for now....might as well let her be happy. She probably deserved it. Rolling her eyes, Marley stood up from the blanket, grabbing a handful of strawberries. "She wasn't mine, anyway," she mumbled, before making a gagging noise and turning to head off. Popped a strawberry in her mouth, glancing once over her shoulder to watch as Katherine and her fake boyfriend resumed their picnic as if Marley was never there. She looked so happy. Too bad it was fake, just like everything else in this town.