#i swear to god i've never loved any celebrity this much

[pardonmydelays]

hi. thank you for being here.

(aka i am so grateful for blogs like you existing, because after i see a negative post about lmm (happens way too often to my liking), i can come to your blog, scroll through your posts, and it's going to bring a smile to my face and my day will be better again. i don't know if that makes sense i'm writing this at 3:30 am.)

thank you.

whaaaat, that's so sweet of you! 🥺

getting messages like this always makes me feel like i'm actually doing something good for this fandom, even if it's not that much, it's still SOMETHING. so whoever you are, i just need you to know you brought the biggest smile to my face!

with that being said, this is a safe space for all lmm fans, feel free to visit and scroll, drop something in my ask box, send a request, literally anything you want. i am trying my best to bring more positivity into this fandom (especially now after all this pjo hate) & it makes me the happiest to know that it's not going to waste!

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 🐦‍⬛

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I've added Victor into this, but I want to have a conversation about if he can be a romantic partner - or he will always be platonic?

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

You're still in Fromville, not having escaped yet but making the best of it.

𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒅 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Domesticity to Boyd is so much different in this town compared to the 'real' world.

・For example, he would be awake before you, no matter the day just so he could surprise you with your favourite drink and a pastry each morning.

・The chores would be split 50/50, with Boyd usually picking up any slack (he doesn't mind at all)

・He loves doing the laundry, folding your clothes with so much care.

・But here... his actions to show his love are limited and it kinda pisses him off

・But you constantly remind him of all the good he's done here and how he keeps everyone together.

・You celebrate every win, even the small ones.

・Boyd is big on DIY, and loves fixing up things for you. Anything you ask - you want a different type of curtain, or you want part of the window patched up - he does NOT let you do it. That is HIS job.

・Massaging his shoulders at night, feeling how taught he is. This town is so hard on him. It constantly makes you wonder, why him?

・You do have one rule though: last one in bed has to make it!

・Boyd seems like the type of person to keep everything about himself to himself. But that isn't true. He likes telling you things, he enjoys opening up to you.

・One really important factor in your relationship is the challenges of town and its mysteries.

・Many people in town were basically betting how long you two would together.

・But what they didn't know, was that the horrors STRENGTHENED your bond. It made you both rely on each other so deeply.

・Having a partner means so much to him.

・Boyd loves you so much. He would never burden you with what he knows, but he loves when you have random conversations.

・It makes things feel just a bit more normal. It gives him hope.

𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Mornings and nights are especially special to you both

・Slow, careful, mindful, warm and cosy.

・Touching each other in some way - hugging each other from behind, pinkies entwined, cheek kisses, forehead kisses, rubbing noses together - if anyone else saw you too they would gag (ITS CALLED LOVE)

・Kenny LOVES tucking you in at night.

"You comfy now?" As he wedges the blanket under the side of your body.

"Yes Kenny! Now get in bed you loser!" You answer laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'm just looking after the most important person in my life thank you very much."

・You love listening to him; to his stories about his childhood up until he came to town.

・One of Kenny's favourite things is when you read to him. Even if you don't have a book in front of you, he just wants you to recount as much as you can from books you have read.

・Might be kind of painful, but you two like talking about how life would be like together outside of this hell.

・Owning two cats, two dogs, maybe some fish.

・Whenever you hear the creatures screeching, you automatically cling to Kenny, you can't help it. You HATE the noises.

・But you always feel safe around Kenny. Always.

"I've got you. I swear to god I'll never let anything happen to you."

𝑱𝒂𝒅𝒆 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Every morning he gives you a kiss on the head and 'tip toes' out of the room, trying not to disturb you.

・You usually yell at him to get back in bed

"My looooooove, I have important business to attend to!"

・The bed is pressed up against the wall, and Jade says if someone/something were to enter the room, he would be the first thing they see

・From then he starts his daily ritual of figuring out how to get the hell home

・Jade teaches you A LOT of stuff. And you're always surprised by how well he does at teaching. He's patient (only with you but you don't know that), and takes his time to teach in ways you'll understand (once again, only for you...)

・He is like a walking computer at times. Really good with dates and great with measurements.

・But one thing he is terrible about is the fact that he's a repeat offender blanket stealer. Absolute criminal.

・No matter how much you tug and pull, or wrap yourself in it, Jade somehow unravels you in his sleep and takes the blanket.

・When you both wake up, you've practically snuggled underneath him...

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"You stole the blanket again and I got cold," you reply muffled beneath him. He's very warm.

"Oh god, sorry! We ah, we should probably get more blankets then... god why didn't you wake me?"

"Wake you? Ever since we got our own place, you've slept like you've never done so in your life!"

・It was quiet before he replied, and then he wrapped his arms around you.

"That's because I haven't sleep properly before I met you."

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒍 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Your relationship with Randall is one that surprises you. Constantly.

・People don't see him the way you do. At times they start to though.

・But only you get to see his true soft side. The side that moves the hair from your face, kisses your forehead, nudges his nose against your own.

・You are the ONLY person to make him laugh.

・He knows so much about you - the way you like your clothes folded or hung up. He knows which books are your favourite, which song you could listen to on replay.

・Music is a big thing to Randall, and the fact that he can't just randomly play something on his phone gets him really down.

・So one night you guys make a list of every song you like, when you heard it and what it made you feel

・Making each other guess who you were before arriving in hell.

"Hmm... you were ... a ... farmhand on a ranch..."

"What the fuck Y/N."

"What? Were you?"

"Oh yeah sure, you hit the nail straight on the head sweetcheeks," and then he rolled his eyes.

・You laugh, loving when he gets 'annoyed' (you know he can never really be annoyed with you right?)

・You know each other's favourite tv shows, colours, smells, literature and so on. You whisper to each other through the night, trying to take your mind off of the screeching coming from outside.

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Always the last to get up, sometimes he wakes before you but he'll still lay in bed, watching you sleep. Sometimes blowing air on your face when it's been a few hours and he gets bored

・Leaving sweet notes in unexpected places, they range from:

'hey baby, went down to do some work in the greenhouse, love you xx' to 'yo sexy honey see you tonight ;)'

・And you keep every single one of them. You have a sort of time capsule thing underneath the bed in one of your bags. Just small photos, letters written to each other, etc.

・Side note - Ellis is a cheeky man who loves to rile you up. Push your buttons. Make you red in the face.

・But he knows when enough is enough; he's extremely intune with your moods and doesn't have to ask when the days get too much.

・LOVES MAKING UP RANDOM SONGS ABOUT YOU, they are terrible but they make you laugh

・CONSTANTLY setting up spontaneous things for you guys to do. Seeing a smile on your face is the best thing he has ever seen.

・Literally puppy love.

・You guys seem to be able to talk to each other mind to mind. Glances from across the room are easily read by one another.

𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

PSA: As I said above, I'm not sure if Victor can be a romantic partner - I would love everyone's thoughts on it and maybe we can come to some kind of agreement??? Anyway, read this how you like ⟡☾⚝☽⟡

・Home...this town is the only home that Victor had ever truly known.

・How could you show him that the way he'd been living was not normal? That he should be able to feel safe, he should have gone to school - maybe even his drawing could have evolved into something astonishing

・So, in little ways you introduce this life to him

・He can't remember his birthday (so you help him choose one) and the two of you, along with Ethan, Tabitha and Julie celebrate

・...home decor projects are mostly just Victor's drawings. The really scary ones, you ask to be put away and he obliges <3

・Victor is used to living with other being, but not sleeping in the same room as another person.

・You would also need to get used to his blatant honesty. It isn't like he's trying to hurt you but he can just be brutally honest.

・Picnics in your room where you scavenge whatever food you can and talk about the funniest things you've seen people do

"I saw Jim ... trip over today," Victor says in a hushed voice, a cookie halfway to his mouth.

You burst out laughing, even snorting as you imagine the uppity Jim Matthews take a tumble.

"God, I wish I saw that."

・At first Victor didn't want another friend. He didn't want to get close to someone, he knew something would happen to you. You'd be taken away from him.

・But you swore to him that you would always be there for him.

・In town, and when everyone leaves. You've told him that you can be his home, his family.

[afewproblems]

62 &/or 71 for platonic stobin perhaps?

62: It's okay to cry & 71: You are the single best thing to happen to me.

Thank you very much for this, I love these prompts and got real carried away with this! I hope you enjoy!

If you had asked Robin Buckley to describe her relationship with Steve Harrington back in her freshman year, she'd laugh in your face. 

Why on earth would King-Steve be caught talking to her, let alone do it enough to constitute a relationship?

He was a popular jock, and Robin was a freshie with a trumpet.

It wasn't how things worked.

Steve operated on the outside of her periphery. She had an awareness of him, his actions in the popular crowd. Like any minor celebrity, the gossip mill ran rampant with tales of King-Steve.

"Harrington scored the winning shot at last night's game! Not many Juniors get opportunities like that!"

"King-Steve told Tommy to leave Harvey alone cuz he's just a freshie, saved him from a swirlie -swear to God man".

“Yeah well, I heard he broke Byer’s camera the other day, so--”

"Have you seen his hair, ugh he's so dreamy!"

To which Robin thought, 'I've seen him leave half a bagel of crumbs all over his English notes, how dreamy can he be?'

And to top it all off, Tammy Thompson wouldn't stop staring at him, twirling her long blond hair around her pink varnished nails while reading sonnets from Romeo and Juliet loudly at her cafeteria table, trying valiantly to catch his eye --peak romance right there.

But Robin wasn't quite ready to think about how much she wished Tammy would bat those long lashes at her, nah, hating Steve Harrington was easier. 

Besides, he had no idea she existed, right? 

Robin grabs a can of Coke from the fridge, reaching into her pocket for change before joining her mother at the till.

The corner store was all the way out on Main Street, but still closer to home than Mevalds or the grocer on Parsons so Mrs Buckley had stopped for a few things on their way back from Robin's band practice. 

She slides the change onto the counter and pops the tab before throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "I'll go wait by the car mum". 

Mrs.Buckley nods distractedly, waving her hand with a smile and she hunts through her purse for her checkbook.

Robin makes her way down the aisle to the entrance, the little bell above the door jingles lightly. She steps over the threshold into cool November air and shrugs her jacket collar up against the chill. 

She sighs as she looks back through the window, her mom seems to be taking her sweet time, chatting with the clerk now and going through her checkbook with a smile. 

A muffled groan catches her attention from across the lot, she tilts her head towards the sound and startles when she spots Steve Harrington, the bane of her existence, leaning against a car with a can of soda pressed to his beaten bloody face. 

He hasn't seen her, his eyes are trained at a point just ahead of him as he rolls the can over his split cheek. 

What the hell?

Robin leans away, keeping herself behind her mom's station wagon and out of his sight line. 

Who would have kicked the shit out of old King-Steve? And where were his two cronies Hagan and Perkins? She had so many questions and--

Steve sniffs once, pushing the heel of his free hand into his eye as he drops the hand holding the can.

Oh.

Robin suddenly feels as though she's intruding on something private. Watching this boy she's never talked to, who she saw last Monday walking with the rest of the basketball team into the cafeteria, Nancy Wheeler hanging off his arm with an affectionate roll of her eyes and the biggest grin plastered all over his dumb face.

But this Steve is hurt and alone and smaller than she's ever seen him before.

It's bizarre.

Suddenly he's moving, throwing the can to the gravel and stepping off the car before sliding his arm across his face in one motion, he clears his throat and throws open the driver's side door.

The engine of his beemer roars to life just as Robin's mother exits the store, she frowns as Steve peels out of the parking lot, brakes squealing.

"Honestly, why they give teenagers licenses, I'll never know," Mrs.Buckley mutters under her breath as she unlocks the car and hands Robin the paper bag, "do you know that boy?"

Robin watches as the tail lights of Steve's car disappear around the corner, the image of his hunched shoulders and black eye branded in her mind's eye. 

Robin shrugs once as she opens the passenger door, "Not really".  

***

It's not until two years later that Robin crosses paths with Steve again, slinging ice cream with the former King down at the new mall.

Her first job and it’s at some horrible sailor themed ice cream shop of all places and to top it all off, she’s stuck with Steve Harrington.

Sure, she'd seen him in passing at school, watching as he slowly fell away from the popular crowd. While it was somewhat satisfying to see Tammy pretend she had never really been interested in the former King of Hawkins High, she couldn't help but remember the way Steve looked that day, face bloody, holding a cold can of pop to the worst of the bruises.

Robin can't help but wonder just what had suddenly turned Harrington's life completely on its head that day. She'd heard it was Jonathan that had beaten him up, but given how weirdly close he, Nancy, and Steve got after that cold November day, she didn't really believe it. 

Wasn't he rich too? He drove a BMW to work for chrissakes. So why was he here?

And then there’s the kids. 

They follow him around like ducklings, begging for rides during his spare time and free samples of ice cream on the days he’s working.

It would be endearing with anyone else, but it’s Steve Harrington. 

They've been working with one another for about two weeks before it happens again.

Robin idly sprays the glass display case with the spray bottle from the back. Whatever green liquid is in the unlabeled bottle smells absolutely foul but it's the only thing in the store powerful enough to get rid of all the finger and face prints on the glass from kids standing on their tiptoes to see the flavors.

They end up having to clean the customer side of the window far more often than their employee side and normally she and Steve will flip a coin for it.

Neither of them enjoy being out from behind the counter, the shorts and the socks are reason enough for this, but it also has the negative effect of piquing enough customer interest to interrupt their down time, like the movement and streak free glass shine draws their eyes.

But, nine times out of ten Steve would ‘lose’ and pick up the spray bottle without complaint. 

Robin had started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose, but why the hell would Harrington do something like that? 

She wrinkles her freckled nose and starts wiping the glass, clearing away the smudges and dirt before spraying again to get at the more stubborn fingerprints.

Steve is late today, which is weird. 

Another surprise from Hawkins golden-boy, Robin would have expected Steve to waltz in twenty minutes late to every shift, with a scowl on his face and a refusal to pull his weight. 

But it was the opposite. 

Steve would get there early, he would review the cleaning list for the day, check the inventory to see what ice creams would need to be restocked and what the special was for the day. 

The only thing Steve had ever asked her to do, was to write out the specials on the board. 

When Robin had scoffed and asked why he couldn't do it himself, Steve had gotten very quiet, chewed his lip for a beat and said, "I don't want to mess it up, or have you have to redo it for me". 

Steve shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, "sometimes the letters are weird when I read and then it makes it harder to write them out”.

He sighs but it comes out more like a scoff, “there’s a reason I’m still here Buckley”.

Oh…so the golden boy of Hawkins High would not be leaving for college in the fall then. 

He looked at her, his big eyes traced over her face as though he were looking for any hint of a laugh.

And what else could she do in the moment but pick up the dry erase marker and shoulder him out of the way of the board with a, ‘you owe me dingus’. 

She turned her face away at the small smile Steve gave her, ignoring the twinge in her chest at his tiny confession. 

God Dammit, he was not endearing, he wasn’t!

Robin balls up the rag she used to wipe down the glass and looks up to the wall clock on the far side of the food court. 

It’s nearly eleven in the morning and Steve is still not here, she’s tempted to use the phone in the back to call his house when she remembers she has no clue what his phone number is or if it would even be listed.

She’s sure he’s scheduled with her today; it’s Tuesday, they always work Tuesdays together. 

Robin looks around the food court, scoping out the entrances and nearby tables. There’s no sign of him, no obnoxious hair, no big goofy grin, or big hazel eyes to be found. 

She huffs and makes her way to the back room, pushing the swing door open hard enough that it makes a satisfying bang against the wall. 

She freezes at the sudden yelp from the back corner. 

Steve whirls away from her, his face tipped into his open locker, his shoulders are a tense hunched line. It's a horribly familiar pose and once again Robin can’t help but feel like she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t.

“Steve?” she says softly, taking another step into the room, “whats--”

“I know I’m late,” he mumbles, the words are tight but there’s no waiver to them, “sorry”.

Robin wishes she were better at this sort of thing --her mom always seemed to know what to do and what to say when people were upset. That skill definitely skipped a generation in her case. 

He turns to face her, slowly, one hand on his nose, the other holding his wrist against his chest.

There’s an ugly, rapidly purpling bruise running down his arm where it’s cradled. The shape is strange, almost as if someone had grabbed him - it runs around the entire circumference of his forearm and--

Oh.

Steve eyes her challengingly but there’s no real heat in it, his eyes slightly shiny in the awful humming fluorescent lights.

“Actually,” Robin swallows roughly after nearly a full minute, clearing her throat as she leans back on her heels, “Uh, Marcus said we only needed one person on today, it’s slow as shit so,” she shrugs and tilts her head to the employee entrance, “you could go home if you want”.

Steve stares at her, his eyes raking over her face the same way he did after the white board incident, before he sniffs once and shakes his head, muttering under his breath that he’d rather get hit by a bus and Robin stiffens at the implication.

“You’re a terrible liar Buckley,” he says eventually, closing his locker and running a slightly shaky hand through his hair before walking towards her and the storefront, “but thanks,” Steve says softly as he passes. 

“Does that mean I can go home?” Robin calls after him, immediately wincing but pleased at the startled laugh she hears from the counter.

She follows him out front, slowly, suddenly feeling with absolute certainty that she really doesn’t know Steve Harrington at all.

***

Robin never thought she would be here. 

Not once did she think she would have ever come out to someone while she was still in highschool, let alone the former King of Hawkins high who would in turn become her best friend, her platonic soul-mate if you would. 

After the debacle that was their official last shift with Scoops Ahoy and the Russian Spy Alternate dimension bullshit where Steve risked his damn life to save her and the kids --who all knew about this monster filled Upside Down just by the by. 

So many things suddenly made so much sense, Steve and his injuries over the years, his weird relationship with Nancy and Jonathan, even the sudden personality 180.

And through the truth serum, the torture, the fire, and running down another car driven by a maniac from California, Steve was there to hold her hand, and Robin is infinitely grateful for it.

They take a job together at Family Video, attached at the hip ever since the mall burned down in July; the video store is one of the few places still hiring that summer that pays a dollar above minimum wage. 

It’s not exactly glamorous, it’s mostly restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes but it’s easy and the hours are good. 

She and Steve are able to get their shifts together most of the time, they both know this is so Keith can avoid working with Steve directly -a bonus if there ever was one. 

Things have been quiet ever since Billy’s death and the Mind Flayer’s obliteration from their world, but it’s been especially quiet since the Byer’s packed up and moved to California. 

Most of that seems to be influenced by the cloud of sadness that has draped itself over the rest of the kids and Nancy -who has been coming by more and more lately, stopping in at Family Video and lingering in the evenings, chatting with Steve while Robin shelves the returns. 

It wouldn’t even have made a blip on Robin’s radar if not for the way Steve would shut down for the rest of their close after Nancy left. 

He refuses to speak more than one word answers, refuses to engage with Robin’s one sided bantering as she balances the till and shuts down the neon Open sign.

It’s nothing like after she saw the bruises at Scoops, nothing like the quiet acknowledgement that the Harrington house wasn’t all money and sunshine the way she thought it was. 

And Robin doesn’t know what to do about it.

It’s been going on for weeks now, and she’ll be starting school again soon. She won't be able to take the same number of shifts as she could over the summer months, and Robin has no idea what will happen when she’s not there as a buffer anymore.

It’s the last week of August when she brings it up to him.

“Steve?” she says as she hands him another copy of The Terminator tape for him to rewind; it’s nearly nine at night and Nancy hasn’t been by at all today. Robin’s stomach has been in knots watching Steve watch the windows for her all night. 

He tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow at her as Robin breathes in deeply through her nose, her heart suddenly in her throat. 

“Just,” she bites her lip, “what is going on with you and Nancy?” 

Oh, perfect, real subtle.

All at once Steve’s face shutters.  

“No, come on, don’t do that,” Robin wheedles, stepping in front of him, “Steve, just talk to me--”

“There’s nothing to talk about, just drop it Robin,” he bites out as he steps around her to grab the returns cart and wheel it over to the New Release shelf.

“No, nope,” she huffs, walking quickly to the other side of the cart and grab the handles, “this is against all the laws of best-friendom”.

“That's not a word,” he mumbles tiredly, reaching up to pinch his nose and close his eyes. 

Ah shit. 

“Dingus, Steve,” Robin says softly as she lets go of the handles and steps closer into his space, “talk to me?”

Steve hesitates, seeming to chew the words or the inside of his cheek - she can’t quite tell at this point, before he blinks once, twice, his eyes rapidly becoming shinier by the second.

Oh double shit.

He shakes his head and turns away from her sharply and Robin doesn’t know what to do with her hands as Steve takes a deep wobbly breath. 

“It’s okay you know,” she finds herself saying softly as she takes a step closer, “to cry?”

Steve barks out a wet laugh and shakes his head again, still not looking at her.

“I don’t know what to do, like literally,” Robin whispers in a panicked voice, “can I, I mean, do you want a hug?”

He nods but doesn’t move as Robin steps even closer to wrap her arms loosely around his waist, he’s stiff in her embrace but slowly begins to relax the longer they stand there - as though he’s not used to something like this.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I am here if you want to talk, or if you even just want to vent - man I want to vent,” Robin says, pulling back slightly to look Steve in the eyes, “don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell is Nancy doing?”

Steve stills in her arms but she keeps going, “honestly, aren’t she and Jonathan still dating?” 

“Like I get that he’s all the way in California but why is she coming in here, and don’t tell me it's about the movies --she never asks me to help find anything, just you, and half the time she doesn't even end up renting anything?”

Robin stops as Steve’s breath hitches once, “it's not fair to you,” she finishes lamely, her voice petering out as Steve nods and sighs, finally bringing his own arms around Robin’s shoulders to draw her closer and bury his face in her hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers in her ear as he squeezes her tight enough to leave her nearly breathless.

“You’re the only person I can actually talk to that won’t think less of me about, about everything,” he whispers into her hair, Robin’s hands twitch as she fists his work vest between her fingers. 

“I think, you are the single best thing to have happened to me in the last like, two years Robs,” the words are constricted, as though he has to drag them out, “and…I need to tell you something”.

Robin nods as he pulls away this time to look at her, his red rimmed eyes trace over her face, just like they had at Scoops all those months ago.

“I,” he swallows and drops his gaze to the floor, “I don’t…feel that way about Nancy anymore,” Steve says quietly. 

“But you seem so upset whenever she leaves, you were looking for her today?” Robin says, confusion painting her words. 

Steve sighs and tips his head back this time, looking at the ceiling as though the answer is hidden among the ceiling tiles and water stains. 

“It's complicated, I…” his mouth opens and closes for a beat, “I am sad for her that Jonathan is gone - he was a better fit for Nancy, way better than me,” he mutters and looks at Robin once more. 

“And I know what she's doing, coming in here all the time, she’s lonely, but that's not why I’m upset Birdy”.

Robin frowns, “then what--”

“There’s this guy,” Steve blurts out, speaking over her in a rush.

Robin feels herself stop breathing, what?

His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as he continues, “I-I’ve never told anyone this before”.

“Okay, okay,” Robin whispers, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he moves even closer and drops his head to her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs into her vest and hair, his breath warm and wet as his chest stutters and heaves. 

“It’s okay,” she says again, repeating the words she’s told herself the last three years, “you’re okay”.

“Loving Nancy is easy, but I…” he sniffs and breathes out, Robin feels a gathering wetness on her shoulder but it only makes her hug him harder.

“But you don’t,” she says softly, finishing his sentence for him.

Steve nods and lets out another shaky breath, finally lifting his face from her shoulder.

He’s a mess, face red and blotchy, tear tracks and snot shine in the streetlights from outside the video store window. Steve’s eyes are red and puffy and his mouth has stretched into an uncharacteristic frown that makes Robin’s chest ache. 

Now Robin’s mother may have been an expert on making people feel better no matter the occasion, but Robin was an expert on putting her foot in her mouth and making Steve laugh.

And the latter felt much more appropriate at this moment. 

“I mean, you’ve come to the right person at any rate,” she says sagely, reaching up to wipe a loose tear from his nose, he snorts and bats her hand away.

“I’m serious, if anyone is an expert in gay pining, it’s me, I’ve seen it all, if you want pointers in watching from afar and daydreaming about your illegal wedding, I’m your lady”.

Steve laughs and steps back to wipe his face roughly with both hands, it does nothing to sooth the puffy skin beneath his eyes but at least the last trace of tears are gone. 

“I’m also an expert,” she chews her lip for a moment, considering carefully how to put it into words, “on how all of this feels, and how new and scary it can be,” she says softly, “trust me, I’ve been there”. 

Steve nods, his eyes shining all over again as he tugs Robin closer into another bone crushing hug.

Just in time for the bell above the door to chime. 

Well shit.

They step away from one another, glad for the distance from the front door to the counter, knowing exactly how that might have looked to the average customer so late into the evening.

“Hey man,” Robin calls out as Steve turns away from the door to hide his face, “just letting you know we close in five so…”

The man nods, he looks familiar, Robin’s fairly certain she’s seen him at school but she can’t remember the name. 

His wild curly hair and jean vest decked out in patches and pins scream, ‘Metal-Head’, as does the ever present cloud of tobacco and weed smell that follows him and around the shelves. He makes a beeline for the small horror section at the back and grabs a tape before making his way to the counter. 

“No worries Buckley, knew exactly what I wanted, I won’t hold you and Harrington up --hey man,” he says brightly, two dimples bloom as he smiles in Steve's direction who flinches at being addressed. 

Steve slowly turns and tries for a smile, “hey Eddie,” he mumbles.

Eddie’s smile drops as his eyes trace over Steve’s face, “woah, what happened sweet-uh,” he looks at Robin once before moving back to Steve, “dude, uh, sweet dude?”

Oh no fucking way.

Steve clears his throat, his cheeks slowly getting pinker the longer Eddie and Robin stare at him, “nothing, I promise, um are you still okay to take Dustin to Indy tomorrow to the hobby shop?”

Eddie nods and smiles, though there’s still a hint of worry in his eyes as he slides the tape over the counter, “wouldn’t miss it, gotta get that kid ready for Hellfire initiation after all,” he says with a wink.

“I figured if you didn’t have anything after we could watch this at mine,” Eddie continues nervously this time, gesturing to the tape Steve scans through. 

For the third time since she’s known Steve, Robin feels as though she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t, only this time it doesn’t fill her with anxiety or uncertainty, and she’s never felt more invisible.

“I’d like that,” Steve says softly as Eddie beams at him, wrapping his knuckles against the counter as he hands Steve three one dollar bills.

“Sounds like a plan my liege,” Eddie hums as he bows with a flourish, coaxing a laugh out of Steve who is smiling like a loon beside Robin, “you bring the popcorn, I’ll take care of everything else,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks backwards towards the entrance before tipping an imaginary hat in farewell as he disappears out the door.

“That is not pining!” Robin shrieks as she whirls around on Steve the moment they see Eddie get into his van, “that was full blown flirting, how long has this been going on??”

“I’m sorry--”

“Nuh uh, you’ve been getting kissy with him, and you didn’t tell me? You got to have your first kiss before me??”

“We haven’t kissed Robin, christ we haven’t done anything--”

“Life is so fucking unfair, you had to be a ‘ladies’ and a ‘man’s’ man, huh?” She scoffs as she walks to the front of the store and switches off the sign and bolts the door for good measure.

Robin turns around only to find Steve staring at her, a nervous expression warps his normally handsome face.

Dammit.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, “I am still so proud of you for telling me, but you have to admit this is unjust,” she mutters in what she hopes is a reassuring voice.

“You think he likes me then?” Steve wonders aloud as he looks from Robin to the door that Eddie left through with a small smile.

Robin drops her face into her hands, this is the man she’s chosen for her platonic soul-mate?

“You are literally going on a date tomorrow,” she grumbles irritatedly, “I watched him ask you out, not even ten seconds ago Steve”.

The smile he sends her way is blinding, and once again Robin is reminded just how much she loves this doofus, how she never would have imagined herself here as a freshman with a trumpet.

“You are calling me after,” she demands as Steve pops the till to begin cashing out while Robin hops up to sit on the counter and fill out the paperwork, “if I can’t teach you about pining then you damn well owe me a class about dating”.

Steve laughs brightly as he lays down the bills and change, giving Robin a soft grin which she returns, finally feeling as though she knows Steve Harrington much better than most.

[imagines-random]

Lover

Pairings/Characters: Loki x reader

Summary: Loki and you are decorating for the first time your house for Christmas

Warnings: none! (Maybe bad writing and grammar lol. English isn’t my first language!)

Song: Lover by Taylor Swift

A/n: tried my best! Thank you for reading <3

Christmas.

A magical time of the year for everyone.

Sadly not for Loki. Not that he doesn’t like Christmas, in fact he seemed to love the idea of it. He has just never experienced it.

You were in your shared apartment. He was there with you. Making your heart flutter every time you looked at him. He has such a pretty smile.

“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January” You look at him while putting the lights on the Christmas tree.

He looks at you smiling “The whole month?”

“Yes, if you’d like that we could and this is our place, we make the rules” you answer him still struggling with the Christmas lights.

He chuckles clearly enjoying watching you struggle. He comes behind you

“Do you need any help darling?”

“No I got this” you in fact don’t got this. Still struggling you turn your head to look at him.

He’s so breathtaking

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

“I actually might need help” you smile at him.

“Consider it done my love.” He flicks his hand and the lights are perfectly aligned on the tree.

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

“You could have done that all this time? And you let me struggle?” You act mad. But how can you be mad at him. You can’t, he’s too perfect.

Can I go where you go?

He wrapped his hands around you. He chuckled.

How can someone be so beautiful?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

“What are you thinking about my love?” he whispered in your ear.

And ah, take me out, and take me home

“About the beautiful god that’s standing in front of me.” I smile as I wrap my hands around his neck.

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

“Do you want to celebrate Christmas with the team here? We can invite them. A change for this year” I say as I look around our house.

Our. It’s our house.

“Oh I wouldn’t mind darling. But isn’t our apartment a bit far from Starks tower?”

“We could let our friends crash in the living room. This is our place, we make the call.”

He laughs. Fuck he’s so pretty. He’s breathtaking even.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

“Would you mind sharing what your pretty little head is thinking my love?” He chuckles

He chuckles.

You smile at him.

“I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all” caressing his face.

“All?”

“Can I go where you go?”

“My love…” he’s smiling.

“Can we always be this close forever and ever?”

And ah, take me out, and take me home

“forever and ever?” He chuckles.

Even when he laughs he’s driving you crazy.

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

“Yes” you say while he kisses you cheek

“My darling love. I want to be with you for all my existence.”

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

Blushing. You are fucking blushing. Like a teenager.

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

“The question is my darling. Do you want to spend all of your existence with me?”

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

“I do. All's well that ends well to end up with you”

“That’s the only answer I accept” he smiles.

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

“Except if you have something else in mind” he winks at you. That mischief.

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

You hit him playfully on the shoulder.

“Is that all you think about?” You act mad. Trying to hide your stupid smile.

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

“No. You are all I think about” he says as he leans in and kisses you.

Melting in the kiss the only thing you can think of is How can you love someone so much.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my

Lover

[psychospore]

Parallel Lines

A/N: sharing the angst I'm feeling lol

Masterlist

Summary: You and Loki were truly, madly, deeply in love with each other - until he decided to marry the prettiest girl, the Princess of Alfheim.

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Low-Ranking Noble Asgardian!Reader

Warning: Angst, Mutual Pining, Lovers to Strangers

Finally, Prince Loki is getting married - not just to anyone but to the finest princess from Alfheim, much to everyone's delight except you.

He was your world, and you were his too once but fate is such a cruel mistress and here you are trying to hold back the tears as you walk towards the great hall to witness the marriage of your beloved to another woman - a woman who was leagues better than you could ever be.

You wanted to run away but as the daughter of a low-ranking noble, you were there to represent your house in the absence of your parents. Soon, you will swear your allegiance to the Prince and his new wife.

It was a grand celebration, grander than all you have seen before but you wanted to run home and cry as soon as it ends, and wallow in sadness. It felt like forever and each second of the ceremony stung like needles. Never did Loki glance in your direction all throughout, you doubt he even knew you were there or did he ever care? What hurt the most was when you saw Loki smiled as he cupped the cheek of his wife for a kiss.

Right after the wedding, the people crowded to cheer for the newlyweds but you decided it would be the best time to leave. As you walked away, tears pooled from your eyes and blurred your vision. It was too painful for you. Deep in your thoughts, you were startled when someone grabbed you by the wrist. It was Loki.

You stared at his solemn eyes for some time, eyes still red and stinging and words unable to form in your mouth.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you would be here," he apologized.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, "Oh - I must have gotten something in my eye," you lied "Congratulations on your wedding. I'm so happy for you," another lie. Tears started to pool again.

You knew the Prince of Lies would see through it, but does it even matter what you feel. You did not come here on your own accord, it's just a formality as part of a noble house.

"I still love you," he said.

"You are a married man now, there's no room for me to be there in your heart. I have loved you greatly and I still do but you have found yourself a perfect match," you answered as a lump in your throat forms, breaking your voice.

"I have my duty to the people. Still, a selfish part of me yearns for you. Every time I look at her, it's you I desire - despite her perfection, it's you, always has and always will be, darling, "

"Please, no more excuses, Loki. What we were is but a figment of the past. Let her be the only one there in your heart. She deserves it. I am glad I've met you but there's no more "us" moving forward. May the gods grant me the selfish wish of never crossing paths again with you, not in this life or in another."

You walked away without hearing Loki's response - not once looking back. Loki fell to his knees in frustration and regret, but you are right - he made his decision when he accepted the proposal and you don't deserve to be hurt any longer. He lost the love of his life forever.

[writereleaserepeat]

This last month I've been enamored by @sowhumpshaped's interactive whump story, "Stray." It came to a beautiful end just a few days ago, and I was inspired to come out of the woodwork long enough to write a little fanfic. Make sure to go read their story before continuing here! It's a lovely work of art and I had so much fun seeing where it went. I miss the daily updates already!

This story is set twenty years after the main storyline of "Stray," and ten years after total pet liberation. It takes place in I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Disneyworld, and it features our MC (you!) meeting a ghost from their past.

CW: mentions of pet whump, second person POV, swearing

WC: ~2250

You run your tongue along the mountain of sweet vanilla cream, savoring its delicate flavor as it slowly melts in your mouth. With how much this ice cream cost, you were determined to enjoy every moment of its blissful respite from the summer heat. The mouse might know how to mark up its sweets, but it wouldn't steal away your enjoyment of this day, not even with an ice cream cone that cost an arm and a leg.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the sight of the ride coming to a halt beyond the fence. The harnesses begin to release and the children start pouring towards the exit, all smiles and laughters as they rush to find their parents on the other side. Your daughter is easy to spot, a tall girl - god, when did she get so tall? - with a glowing, gap-toothed smile.

Much to your surprise, she comes to greet you with another girl in tow, a child whose face reminds you of someone you can't place, their eyes sparkling with a hint of familiarity. A celebrity, maybe?

You don't have any more time to ponder before your daughter begins talking. She holds the other girl’s hand, a child who couldn’t have been a year older than her, and all but pulls her up to greet you.

"This is Delaney, we were on the ride together! She's so nice," Libby speaks in that same pleading tone you're never able to resist. "Please, please, please can we go to the next ride together?"

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” you say as sympathetically as you can, putting a palm on Libby's head. “We need to ask Delaney’s grown-up first.”

“My dad will say it’s okay,” Delaney says with a vigorous nod, “he’s right over there!”

She points towards a man striding in your direction, his hair long, but his gait familiar. As he brushes the hair from in front of his eyes, you freeze. You know those eyes. You’ll never forget those eyes, even if they’re set deeper in wrinkles now.

The world stops. For one painful moment, you don’t even feel your heart beat. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs.

But it wasn’t. You draw a breath, a deep breath that pushes hard against your ribs. You’re free. All the pets are free now, and they have been free for ten years. It had been another ten years before that since you’d last seen Rayan.

He recognizes you too, you can tell in the way his jaw slackens, dumbfounded. That glitter of recognition continues as he finally stumbles into earshot and his tongue begins to work.

“Thirt-"

“Not in front of my daughter,” you hiss, leaning in towards his ear as you do so. “Not in front of my fucking daughter.” You keep a smile on your face, only just, so your child doesn’t have to see you fall apart before her eyes.

He seems startled, startled enough to shut up for one moment. But silence had never been his strong suit, you could remember that much, the way he'd ramble on and on after his volunteer shifts. You'd always let him talk - not today. The dynamic had shifted. Today, you look him in the eyes as an equal.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Papa!” Delaney interjects, cutting Rayan off a second time. “I met this girl on the ride, her name’s Libby, she’s super fun, and super nice, and we want to go on another ride together.” She tugs on Rayan’s arm, but he doesn’t look down.

“Actually,” you say, pulling your daughter close to you, “I think we need to go catch up with Libby’s little brother and my partner.”

“Please?” Libby pleads again, staring at you with those doe eyes that always melt your heart. “Just one ride. It can be this one, we can do it again, we don’t even have to walk anywhere.”

Fuck.

What was almost twenty years of therapy worth if you couldn’t stand next to Rayan for another five minutes? You’d imagined talking to him a thousand times over, you’d thought painstakingly about what you’d say to him if you ever could, you'd prayed to his memory as much as you'd cursed it. But now, all you want is to walk away and never look at him again.

No more running. You'd promised yourself that almost two decades ago, and hell if you couldn't carry through with that promise today, especially with a family that needed you.

“Okay,” you concede, forcing a smile at Libby. She would never see you falter, not now, not ever. “You can ride this same ride one more time, just once, and only if you use your QuickCard to skip the line. We don’t want to get too far behind the rest of the family.”

“Sure,” Rayan says, voice measured. He smiles down at Delaney as well, but you can tell it's forced. “You can go too. Don’t forget, you only have three more taps on your QuickCard.”

“That’s okay!” Delaney chirps, already pulling Libby towards the line. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

And as the girls run in a tangle of limbs and laughter back into the ride's entrance, you’re left alone next to Rayan. The silence weighs heavily on your shoulders, and you feel the ice cream beginning to melt between your fingers. Then it's just you and Rayan, alone.

Not literally alone. You two are the furthest from alone you ever could be, stood next to a swinging steel pirate ship, amidst a park milling with tens of thousands of other people. But you can hardly hear the screams, the voices, the mechanical groans of the rides. Rayan’s presence next to you is suffocating.

You say nothing yet. What is there to say? You’ve said it all a million times before. To the shower walls, to your therapist, to the darkened skies in the early dawn. But none of it had ever compared to what you feel right now.

Something like hope begins to itch in your chest. Maybe this would give you closure, real closure, not the metaphorical closing of a book at the end of a therapy session. You've craved closure for so long. Could Rayan finally be this holy grail?

“I’m sorry,” Rayan says. If you didn’t know better, his voice sounded on the verge of breaking. “I’m sorry for everything.”

His swallow is louder than even the most cacophonous thunderstorm. He continues, tripping over his words, falling over himself with every syllable.

“Look, I was just doing my best. I mean, you were a kid, and I was basically still a kid too, and I was doing what I thought was best, just trying to help, you know? It’s been twenty years and I’ve never forgotten your face. And I mean, look at you now, here with your kids, this is what all the freed pets wanted, isn’t it? The chance to live like this?”

In that moment you know what you need from Rayan. It's what you've needed from him all along, even if you couldn't name it before now.

“Say it,” you mumble, struggling to find your voice. That hope for closure, god, you can feel it, you need it, and-

“What?”

“Say it,” you growl, more firmly this time. “You know what I need you to say.”

“Look, thir- whatever name you chose, I don’t know what you want from me.”

You finally look him in the eyes again.

“Say that I’m a person. Tell me that I’m a person.”

“Of course you are,” Rayan begins, and you watch him hold up his hands as he fights against his tongue's knots. “That’s what the Decree says. All pets had their legal status changed to reflect their unequivocal personhood.”

“That’s not what I asked. I know my pet lib history - likely better than you do. I want you to tell me that I, me, the living being standing in front of you, is a person.”

That nervous look in Rayan’s eyes tells you everything you need to know. The pregnant pause that follows is just painful confirmation. There would be no closure here for you today.

“Pathetic.” It takes all of your strength not to slap him in the face. “Twenty years and you haven’t learned a damn thing. The rest of the world has moved on from that nonsense and you can’t take five seconds to pull your head out of your ass.”

“Look," another swallow as Rayan wrings his hands. “Yeah, it’s been ten years, and still, there’s these studies, right? I'm sure they taught you to read in the, uh, the rehabilitation classes. There's studies that shows the pets that were liberated, they just aren't adapting to society as people do, you know? They don't excel at their jobs, they don't succeed in forming traditional family units, they engage in crime and anti-social behavior at much higher rates..."

You scoff and roll your eyes. All you can feel is the bile thick in your throat. Those studies, those lies, that propaganda, it would never stop. And people like Rayan would never stop feeding on it. You knew this, hell, you taught about it, at your community college's pet lib program. There would always be someone with an interest in the tyranny over 'pets,' be it emotional or financial, and it would succeed as long as people like Rayan were stupid enough to buy it.

"Look," Rayan says, putting his hands on the nearby railing as he looks away from you, "all I'm saying is, if you're a good- as good a soul as I think you are, you'd want what's best for your daughter, right? And, and maybe, well, maybe what's best for your family is how things used to be. You don't know for sure that things are better now. What if you're denying your family the chance to be taken care of, to truly thrive? What if they're not meant to be taken care of by, ah, by something like you?"

For a moment you think about striking him. You think about taking him to the ground, right there in the middle of the theme park, and pummeling him senseless. You want to beat that nonsense right out of his skull.

But that would prove his point, wouldn't it?

No. You know you can't do that. You can't wait for your daughter to come back and see your knuckles bloodied, this stranger choking on his own teeeth, your face contorted into an unfamiliar visage of rage. You weren't going to be a monster.

"You disgust me." The words are stickier than honey on your tongue. "Your vapid platitudes mean nothing. Your saviour complex has kept you stuck in the past while the rest of society is growing and learning from our sins. I'll always be grateful that you dragged me out of the trash that one day, and I'll always be grateful that you kept a roof over my head long enough for me to find my liberation. But I owe you nothing, not now, not ever again. I have my personhood - I always have. It's a shame you aren't using yours for something more meaningful."

You see a flash of pink out of the corner of your eye. Libby was coming back, running hand-in-hand with Delaney, that same joyful smile on her face. The smile of a child who had never seen the tyranny of the system you'd oncee been subdued by. The smile of a child who would learn just how important their personhood was, and always would be.

"Libby, darling, we need to go," you say as she comes within earshot. Your tongue is dry and sticky in your throat, and you need a drink of water. Your partner has water, wherever they are in the park now. You want to go to them now, seek the affirmation of everything you'd built in the time since you'd left Rayan behind all those years ago. You want to feel their comforting touch, something to ground you, to remind you of who you are. Who you've always been.

A good person.

Libby seems to wilt a bit, dejectedly dropping Delaney's hand from her own.

"Aw, but-"

"No buts. It's time to see what your brother is up to, and we have a lot of rides to catch before the day is over."

She pauses for a moment, and you can see her thinking it over. After another second she nods, seemingly convinced.

"Okay, as long as you promise to come on the next roller coaster with me."

"I promise," you say, reaching out a pinkie towards her. She hooks her pinkie in yours, and you take the opportunity to pull her close to you, away from Rayan, and away from the child he will undoubtedly raise to think just like him.

"Bye, Delaney! We're friends forever, okay?" Libby shouts over her shoulder as you begin to walk away.

"Bye Libby! Forever!" Delaney replies, giggling as she waves.

Your eyes meet Rayan's one last time. They're clouded with emotion, his lips pressed in a thin line. In spite of yourself, you smile at him once, and turn away.

"Alright, sweetheart," you speak to your daughter as the door to your past slams shut behind you. "Let's go have some more fun. We've got the whole day ahead of us."

[mastermindmp3]

I continue my agenda that TTPD is secretly a western album, I swear—

God. This song. This song.

At this point, I should put a boiler plate disclaimer that I understand these songs are very much about Taylor's life, and this one especially so. It's all about scrutiny, about the press and the media circus of being a child in the spotlight, about not being able to grow up (you stay the same age you get famous at in the public's eye, to paraphrase Swift.) It's about the mental side effects of that, of the suffering she admits to hiding: I want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

I think there is an expectation that people (any people, not just celebrities) should only show signs of distress when they are at rock bottom. If you're functioning, if you're getting out of bed most days and still brushing your teeth, etc, you aren't depressed enough to complain. Who's Afraid of Little Old Me is Swift striking back at that mindset, that actually, she shouldn't have to perform rock bottom ( because she seems done with performing peak happiness ) 24/7.

However, I really want to dive into the imagery of the song, and then maybe elaborate on it too much.

I'd be remiss to say that I'm writing this the day after she performed it live for the first time, and I am so utterly obsessed with the live performance. The lights, the mirrored platform giving the appearance of levitation, and say they didn't do it to hurt me—

BUT WHAT IF THEY DID?

In general, that section of the bridge is my favorite. I've already referenced it twice! To give context, the full line is: So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? And say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did? I want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

( That is followed by the line that has become a meme, and I wrote a whole post being annoyed at that. It will forever rot in my drafts. )

The speaker's description feels like hypervigilence, the kind caused by a life time of whispers and daggers behind your back. If you've ever been the center of a workplace drama, or the odd kid out, or the New Person in a club or activity, or just have anxiety, you know this feeling well. You know the feeling of asking - is this about me?

I love the phrasing of I want to snarl, because it shows that she is expected not to. She is expected to... Actually. Let me set this up.

There's a parallel to her country contemporary Miranda Lambert's Mama's Broken Heart. Lambert details allowing herself to be dramatic and heart broken after she feels like her life went up in flames. Where Swift's speaker enacts supernatural revenge, Lambert's is more mundane (cutting her bangs with scissors, hunting him down at the bar in their small town.) The bridge, here, describes the expectation that is put upon young women:

Powder your nose, paint your toes / Line your lips and keep 'em closed / Cross your legs, dot your eyes / And never let 'em see you cry

Swift's speaker, jilted and in pain not just from her lover (the who's who of who's that) but also from the scrutiny she's placed under (by her community, her friends, maybe even the press) has decided that she will no longer be the picture perfect woman. She will no longer bow to their whims, and is executed by public opinion for it.

So I leap from the gallows and I'll levitate down your street.

This very strong imagery.

Historically, women who have been hanged are expected to act a certain way. We often think of witch trials, but women have also been executed for crimes like murder and theft. They are to act penitent, to appeal for public approval with their final breaths. If they serve as anti-examples, begging for God's forgiveness and showing other women to behave, how to not make their mistakes, then they are granted posthumous grace.

But speaking of witch trials. Women and men who were accused of witchcraft were not witches, not in the modern sense of the word, or the historical one. Some were midwives, some were just poor women, old women who had things their neighbors wanted to take. Some were widows, and some were just disliked. It had nothing to do with their "crimes," and all to do with wanting to get rid of someone "unseemly."

The witch trials are often used as emblems of sexism - because they were. They were a tool of patriarchal oppression against women who fell outside the system, for one reason or another. ( I'd also like to note this oppression went doubly strong against women and men of color. It's a very loaded topic. )

The imagery also makes me think of Margaret Atwood's Half-Hanged Mary, a fictionalization of the real life Mary Webster. Webster was accused of witchcraft by Phillip Smith, and taken to be hanged in Hadley, Massachusetts. Mary, a woman in her approximate 60s, survived the whole night, was supposedly buried, and still emerged alive.

Atwood's fictionalization has the same spite, the same rage as Who's Afraid of Little Old Me, "Tough luck, folks, / I know the law: / you can't execute me twice / for the same thing. How nice." By the end of the poem, she has become the witch they accused of her being.

Here, the speaker of Who's Afraid of Little Old Me does the same. Almost implied to be a ghost, but the imagery also implies a witch, a woman too powerful for the rope to kill - she decides to return to haunt her accusers, her killers. She crashes their party (there were often parties or auctions of the women's belongings)—

Like a record scratch as I scream — who's afraid of little old me?

She, too, has become what they accused of her being. I am what I am because they trained me.

Phillip Smith, by the by, didn't do so well. He disappears from the account around 1683. In The History of... Massachusetts Bay... by one Mr. Hutchinson, "...it happened that she survived and the melancholy man died." Webster went on to live for 14 years after her hanging.

It felt a very apt comparison to make.

There are other metaphors at play here - a media circus going on in the background, references to the stage animals that have killed their handler for their mistreatment. The title is a reference to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, a play about how lives are so complex behind closed doors.

But in the end, I think it all furthers that same metaphor.

The pain of being in the public eye for too long has hurt the speaker in ways that the audience can't understand, because they have not lived it. Very few people are at that level of fame and scrutiny, and while a non-famous audience can relate in some ways, the speaker feels the only way to get the severity across is to invoke death and false hangings.

She is asking for them to see her as powerful, but also as human, and flawed, and hurt.

[helloimsoverybored]

A Pretty Long Rant on RPF shippers in the context of David Tennant and Michael Sheen

the entire georgia/anna discourse is so. bullshit. because those are actual, real people, with real lives and real relationships with those around them

Regarding dt and gt, just saying, no one has five children together as part of a pr stunt. Same with Michael and Anna.

And the fact that rpf people fail to realise this is concerning- taking the "my wife" jokes quite literally. News flash, it's a fucking joke. It's not something gt and al are making up to cover up for the fact that their respective partners fell in love with each other (yes, this is an actual take i've seen on this matter)

And idk if the rpf people are just dumb or are fully aware of what they're doing, despite the fact that they're completely tearing apart the lives of real people.

Another retort I've often seen is that fans have the right to criticize celebrities. Yes, yes they do. But breaking down a marriage spanning over a decade isn't criticism! You're creating fake problems out of thin air and for what? Genuinely, for what?

Rpf shippers just automatically assume the worst in both Georgia and Anna, and you know what? God forbid women do anything. Because that's exactly what this is.

They're completely vilifying gt and al because... they're in a relationship with their "blorbo actors?" They're acting like gt/dt and al/ms are fictional characters that you can play around with like dolls but you can't play around with real people's lives! Simply put, it isn't ethical.

I feel like the rpf people just fail to understand the meaning of “real”, because I don’t even know how one can feel so alright and happy by tearing apart the lives of real people. The fact that people are finding every possible way to find problems in their current relationships to suit their fantasies is so fucking disgusting.

Okay now if you're with me so far, I'm impressed. Stay with me because I'm not done yet.

Regarding Georgia, don't rpf blogs just love to criticize her and her parenting methods? That Georgia's just lazy and only wants to drink wine, but omfg. wtf. She has fucking 5 children. I don't care what you think, managing those many kids is NOT an easy task. But also... posts I've seen on this matter never seem to bring up David? Why? Isn't he a parent? Shouldn't he also have a role in parenting? Whatever Georgia does surely won't be against what David believes, right? Wake up, rpf shippers, wake the fuck up.

David almost definitely does have a role in the parenting (anyone willing to fight me on this, come off, I'll give you the reasons) but since he’s all over London at the moment, he probably doesn’t have much time. Which means that gt has to manage 4-5 kids all by herself. So she does actually deserve a break, more than anyone else. But she doesn’t because wahoo god forbid women do anything.

And putting all that aside, what the hell gives rpf people the right to hate on her as if they know her irl. Their default behavioral status is set to mean and bitchy and that’s just. concerning. rpf people need to understand the difference between real life and fiction istfg.

Okay, i swear I'm nearing the end of this rant, please don't go yet.

Sometimes fans do have the right to speak up against an UNHEALTHY relationship. There are multiple examples all over the place where one person has expressed dissatisfaction but no one took them seriously. Except… neither gt/dt nor ms/al have expressed dissatisfaction. At all. It’s actually the exact opposite where they keep fawning for each other. There’s 0 suggestions of any of them being unhappy in their respective relationships apparent from yall overanalyzing their body language to the point where it becomes false.

Do Georgia and Anna ship themselves with each other and ship David with Michael? Yes. But that's a fucking joke. Learn to take a joke, yalls, it will get you a long way. And even if they are the ones doing the shipping, so what? That doesn’t give you the right to. It’s their lives. You’re just a person viewing their lives from a small peep hole known as Instagram.

[roostersmustache]

Songs of Silence, One

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Author's Note: Hello guys! This is totally different, as most of you are used to my Rooster fics! But, I've gotta be honest. I've been a Loki fan far longer than I've been a Bradley Bradshaw fan, and with season two of Loki out and about (I've watched it three times), I'm hyper fixating on the God of Mischief right now! So, I hope you guys enjoy, and I hope I can reach some more Loki fans out there!

Synopsis: Ingrid was born the goddess of song. Her voice was unmatched in talent. When using her voice one evening, her voice suddenly leaves her, leaving her completely mute. Seeking out help in finding her voice, she's led to a fortune teller, who offers her more than she initially bargained for.

Warnings: None of this is accurate, Swearing, adult themes, angst, possible MCU spoilers, possible Loki spoilers.

Word Count: 5.4k

Masterlist

Being born a goddess in Asgard came with lots of fabulous parties, countless gowns and jewels, and lots of mingling with the other Gods and Goddesses Asgard housed. Ingrid had been born the goddess of song, her musicality bringing peace and prosperity to Asgardians. She could heal broken hearts with her songs, put one to sleep with her songs, and compel those to her will with her songs.

She was a kind and beautiful goddess, her name even meaning "beautiful woman." Because of her kindness, she never used her compelling voice to lure those to their deaths, or have them do as she pleased. She only used her voice for good, and it brought so much harmony to Asgard.

Her talent was unmatched on every level, and Asgardians were willing to pay her thousands to teach their offspring even a sliver of what it meant to sing like her.

But she never shared the secrets of her voice.

There weren't any secrets to be shared. She was born with her gift, and never had to work to make it better. It was the epitome of a perfect voice.

So perfect that many wanted it for themselves.

Ingrid had to be cautious of who she trusted enough to get close to her. The wrong person with the right spell could take her voice from her. While no such spell was easy, magic was a well practiced craft in Asgard, and someone highly skilled in magic could, with the right research, take her voice from her.

Her talent was mystical, and she most often used it for healing purposes. For example, when a family member passed away, people would come to her and ask for a song to ease their pain. She had a way of letting the spirits sing through her, and her songs were able to make grief easier.

Ingrid was the youngest of the Gods. She was only nineteen in Midgardian years, the sons of Odin beating her by a miniscule two years.

Ingrid lived in the castle, and she saw the royals as her second family. When she was a young girl, her parents, also Gods, were killed by the Dark Elves, so she was left orphaned. Odin and Frigga took her in, and she grew up alongside Thor and Loki.

She grew up knowing her and Thor were to be married once she reached the age of twenty. Her and Thor had grew up close, but she knew, deep down, she'd never be able to love him like she was supposed to. They say everyone has their person, and she knew Thor wasn't hers. She did love him, just in a friendly way. But she knew she'd have to bear his children, so she tried to be attracted to him, but it never worked the way it was supposed to.

"You look beautiful today, my darling," Thor said as Ingrid grabbed his arm.

They were headed to a feast to celebrate their marriage, as the wedding was set to be a month away.

"Thank you, Thor," she replied, smiling at him.

When the couple entered the grand dining room, they were greeted by cheers from all the Asgardian people in attendance. Ingrid smiled, waving at her friends, and following Thor before the two took a seat at the head of the table.

"Thank you, to all my lovely people," Thor boomed, the room going quiet. "And thank you," he started, gazing over to his fiance. "To my beautiful bride-to-be for everything. I'm the luckiest man in the nine realms to get to marry you."

Everyone at the table swooned, Ingrid looking over and giving Thor a smile. He raised his glass and everyone followed suit, a toast in order.

"To love!" Thor cheered.

"To love!" Everyone else cheered.

Ingrid just raised her glass, she didn't say anything else. A part of her mourned the fact that she'd never be able to find her true love. She only hoped that one day her heart would come to love Thor the way that a lover should.

She took leisurely sips of her wine, laughing at someones joke every once and awhile. She loved the people of Asgard, and she knew it was the highest honor to become their queen, but her heart longed to love. It longed to be loved by an all consuming love, one that challenged her and thrilled her, excited her in ways she never even knew possible.

But she'd never get the chance to find it.

"What about a song from the lady?" A man said, standing up and motioning his glass towards Ingrid.

"Oh," she stuttered, caught off guard by the request.

"Yes," another man piped up. "A song from the goddess to bless her marriage!"

"I mean," she blushed. "I don't have anything prepared."

"What could the goddess of song not have prepared? Sing us something!" Another man boomed.

"I don't know, I mean, I don't really think I have it in me to sing right now," she sheepishly replied.

"Oh come on, darling," Thor smiled. "Sing us something."

"I don't really want to," she said to Thor, giving him a tight smile.

Ingrid never liked to be put on the spot, and Thor knew that. But she also couldn't deal with disappointing people, so saying no wasn't something she was good at. Thor also knew this.

"Aw how come?" Thor boomed, obviously a bit drunk, as he smiled down at her. "Bless us and our marriage with a song!"

"I don't- Thor, I didn't prepare to sing anything," she said, silently pleading with him to let it go.

"You're the goddess of song," he emphasized. "You don't need to prepare anything," he smiled.

Ingrid often had anxiety around being put on the spot, as she liked to have a sort of mental preparation. Ingrid suffered from a severe case of PTSD, which contributed to her severe anxiety.

When she lost her parents, she was ten years old. She watched as the dark elves stormed into her home and brutally murdered both of her parents in front of her. They only missed her because she hid in her parents closet.

The images of her parents being killed stayed with her, haunting her.

It's safe to say her anxiety was prominent in her life.

"Thor," she started whispering. "Everyone is looking at me, I don't think I should sing right now."

"C'mon darling, everyone loves your voice! I mean look at them," Thor said, gesturing to the group of people in the dining room, looking excitedly at their goddess of song.

"I don't want to," she said.

"Ingrid, you're the goddess of song, I don't understand-"

"The lady said she didn't want to sing, therefore she won't," a voice said from the back of the dining hall.

The voice in question came from none other than Thor's brother, Loki. Ingrid and Loki had always gotten along. He understood her traumas, since he had found out he was adopted a couple years back.

Her and Loki had grown up never too close, but never distant either. They would often just sit with each other and read in the library. He always kept to himself, but he always tried to be out of his brothers shadow as well. Ingrid had always found Loki fascinating, his magic so strong yet himself so quiet. But when he did have something to say, it was always well worded and intelligent.

When Loki spoke up, the entire dining hall went silent, and all eyes gazed to him. He was dressed in his more casual Asgardian leather, yet nevertheless eye catching. His hair was slicked back as it always was, his black curls resting on his shoulders.

"Ah, brother!" Thor announced. "How wonderful of you to join us!"

"How could I ever miss such an occasion?" He sarcastically remarked, his hand landing over his heart.

As he walked to the table to take a seat, he made eye contact with Ingrid, who mouthed a 'thank you' to him. He just nodded and smiled back at her.

The rest of the party went on as they all do; they ate, Thor and his friends had too many beers to count, and the others mingled together. Ingrid felt overwhelmed by the noise and commotion in the room, so she wandered out to the garden. The gardens were her favorite place in the castle, the flowers and plants always having a way of soothing her. Freyr always did wonders for the gardens.

Her favorite was the Dreamshade plant, an Asgard specialty. It was beautiful when it bloomed. Next to the Dreamshade plot of the garden was a beautiful wooden, white swing next to it, hung by a tree. Ingrid would often find herself out there reading.

She sat down on the swing and started to rock back and forth. She sipped on the wine she had carried with her, the liquid making her warm with each sip she took. The breeze encapsulated her, sending a chill down her spine.

She heard the boom of Thor's laughter from inside and took another swig of her wine. She was supposed to be Asgard's blushing bride, they're grateful queen to be. But instead, she's sitting in the garden, away from her own party for her own marriage, fighting back tears. She was orphaned at ten, and months after she had been taken in by the king and queen, she was betrothed to Thor. Her future had been written for her before she was old enough to fully harness the concept of true love and marriage.

And she did, she did love Thor. They had grown up together. Just as she loved Loki. But Thor never made her feel the way her friends' partners made them feel. They'd all talk about butterflies, feeling giddy. All she felt was a longing for something she didn't have.

She wished her voice could cure her own sadness.

"Ingrid?" Came the voice of Loki. He had found his way out to her at the gardens, slowly walking up to her as to not wake her.

"Loki," she gasped, breaking out of her trance. She then noticed the tears that had fallen down her face, quickly wiping them away.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, coming to sit next to her.

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't even realize I was."

"Is everything alright?"

"Nothings alright," she whispered. "I just, I feel hopeless and, I don't know. I'm sorry, I've had too much wine," she hiccuped.

"It's okay, we've all had too much wine," he grinned.

"It's good wine."

"It is indeed."

Her and Loki sat in silence. They let the breeze wash over them, and they let the smell of the flowers consume them. Ingrid was drunk, and she knew this because she felt like she could go up to Thor and tell him she didn't want to get married to him. At the end of the day, she'd never do such a thing, but the fact that it was even a thought she had confirmed the wine had done it's job.

The wine was also making her think things she shouldn't be thinking at all.

Looking over to Loki, she let her eyes wander over his smooth features, and the sharp curve of his jaw. He was sculpted perfectly, and on Midgard, they liked to say handsome men looked like "Greek Gods." Loki wasn't a Greek God, but he was a God.

Ingrid had always had a crush on Loki. He was charismatic yet smart. Funny yet serious, and mischievous at the same time. He always excited her, made her stomach knot when he teased her. He made a blush arise to her cheeks that never appeared for anyone else.

But she never let this crush get the best of her or distract her from what she was supposed to be focused on.

The wine allowed these thoughts to push through, though.

"I don't think," she started. "I don't think I wish to marry Thor."

"What?" Loki asked, his head snapping to her.

"I don't love him like that."

"I don't understand," Loki said, his brow furrowing. "You two have always been in love."

"It's been fake," she said, taking another gulp of her wine. "For me, at least."

"Ingrid-"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you all of this. I should," she hiccups. "I should get to bed."

As she tries to stand, Ingrid's wine glass falls out of her hands, smashing on the ground. Her legs start to wobble, and before she knows it, she too is falling to the ground. Loki is at her side in an instant, catching her before her head hits the grass.

"Ingrid, darling," he gasped at her. "You've got to be more careful."

"I'm sleepy," is all that she mumbles, her eyes rolling shut.

"Okay," Loki says, hoisting her into his arms. "Lets get you to bed then."

Loki proceeded to carry her out of the garden and around the side of the castle to a side entrance, wanting to keep people from seeing them in this state together to prevent gossip. Through the corridors and up the stairs leading to her room, Ingrid was giggling at random things that she saw.

Once Loki got upstairs to her room, he carried her inside and gently placed her on the bed. She sighed contentedly when she felt her plush covers beneath her, melting into her mattress. She slowly blinked her eyes open, grinning when she noticed Loki looking down at her.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Yes," she sighed. "Thank you for bringing me up here."

"Of course."

"Loki?" She piped up, sitting up on her elbows. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied, taking a seat on her bed.

"Will everyone despise me if I don't say yes to Thor at the altar?"

She watched as Loki's expression softened, his head tilting to the side. She didn't want to cause a fuss, but she couldn't see herself living a long and prosperous life with Thor.

"Ingrid," he started. "Where is this coming from? Everyone thinks the two of you are in love."

"I've never gotten to explore any romantic interests of any kind because i've always been promised to him. But I don't love him like that. I've tried, Loki. He's not the one for me."

"I don't know if you have much of a choice, darling," Loki says, his lips flattening into a disappointed straight line. "What Odin wants, Odin gets."

"He's not the one that I want," she whispered, staring at Loki intently.

His brows furrowed and then relaxed again. Ingrid knew that her remark was suggestive, and would definitely be something she regretted saying the following afternoon. But as per the wine, it felt very appropriate to say.

"I suppose if your suitor of choice is as high of rank as a God to be king, Odin might not have as many complaints."

"He's something like that," she sighed.

Loki began to respond to her, but he was stopped by two sharp knocks on her door. She gave Loki a puzzled look, and he gave her a puzzled look back, neither one of them knowing who could be at the door.

Loki stood and went to the door to open it, and when he did, it was revealed to be Thor on the other side. Loki moved aside to let his brother in, and Thor's eyes immediately went to Ingrid.

"There you are, darling. Are you alright?"

"Yes, just sleepy," she replied, her eyes blinking slowly.

"Why did you escort my lady to her bed chambers without letting me know?" Thor asked, turning to his brother who stood silently in the corner.

"Because she was passing out in the gardens and I didn't want anyone seeing her in such a vulnerable state," Loki replied.

"Passing out in the gardens?" Thor said, whipping around to look at his bride lying on the bed, still in her evening gown.

"I've had a bit too much wine," she said, pinching her fingers in the air as an example of how much wine she's had.

"Why did you even leave to the gardens in the first place?" Thor asks.

"It was loud," she sighs.

"I'm sorry, darling. I know me and my friends can be loud at times."

"Very loud," she annunciated.

Ingrid pushed herself up off of her bed and stumbled into her closet and grabbed one of her silk nightgowns, walking back out and throwing it down on her bed. She started undoing the pins in her hair, feeling immediate relief at the release of tension in her head. The two brothers stood there watching her, and she stopped her motions to give them both a quizzical look.

"What?" She asked. "Have neither of you seen a lady get ready for bed?"

They both stuttered out sorries as they started to exit the room. Thor crossed over to Ingrid and kissed her cheek, whispering a goodnight to her. She caught Loki's eye by her door, and she gave him a small smile. He nodded back to her. The two brothers exited her room, and once she heard the door click she brushed her dress off of her shoulders.

Once she was ready, Ingrid slipped under her covers. She could still feel the alcohol coursing through her veins.

Before her parents passed away, her mother would sing her a song before bed every night. It stuck with her, and sometimes the goddess would sing it to herself before bed, just to imagine her mother there with her. Tonight was one of those nights.

Ingrid felt helpless, her marriage to Thor was rapidly approaching, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She needed her mothers advice more than anything. So Ingrid sang her song.

Nuku, nuku nurmilintu, Väsy, väsy, västäräkki Nuku nurmelle hyvälle Vaivu maalle valkialle. Lintu tuopi liinahapaijan Haapana hyvän hamehen Kaskeloinen korvatyynyn Pääskynen peäalusen Nuku, nuku nurmilintu Väsy, väsy, västäräkki Nuku nurmelle hyvälle Vaivu maalle valkialle.

Ingrid sang her song louder than she's ever sang it before. Usually she would sing it as a whisper, only to keep for herself. But she felt (probably because of the wine) that everyone needed to hear it. And everyone did hear it. Everyone in Asgard heard their goddesses song, and they heard the pain and longing in her voice as she sang. It was vulnerable, and it was beautiful.

And it lulled her and the entire kingdom to sleep.

~~

Ingrid woke the next morning to being shook by her shoulders.

As she opened her eyes, she saw Thor, Frigga, Loki, and a few castle healers surrounding her on her bed. Thor was shaking her awake, concern written all over his face. Everyone looked worried, and Ingrid looked quizzically back at them.

"What?" She asked, worried as to why everyone was so concerned about her.

"Ingrid," Thor said. "Ingrid, are you alright? We've been trying to wake you for an hour. It's one in the afternoon."

Ingrid shot up at that, looking to her clock to confirm the time. She had never slept that long. Wine wouldn't do that to her either, as she's had her fair share of drunken nights far worse than the one she had last night.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure why I did that," she said, but the people surrounding her just looked more confused.

"Ingrid, darling, what are you saying?" Frigga asked, taking a step closer to her."

"I'm asking-," She started, but she realized that not a single sound was coming out. "Can you not hear me?"

"Darling, we can't hear you," Thor said. "You're just moving your mouth."

All of the blood drained from Ingrid's face as it hit her all at once.

Her song.

She sang her lullaby last night in a very drunk and vulnerable state, making her an easy target. And she was loud. Everyone in the kingdom heard her sing. And someone had done the one thing she had feared.

They had taken her voice.

As soon as it clicked in her mind, her eyes locked to Loki's, and she could tell that he had made the same observation.

"Someone took her voice," he stated, his eyes never leaving hers.

"That's impossible," Thor said, standing up.

"Oh no, it's quite possible, brother," Loki stated, his hands clasped behind his back. "A strong sorcerer heard her song last night, and the vulnerability behind it, and used the right spell. Her voice is gone."

"That cannot be!" Thor boomed, pacing around the room. "Who dare strip my bride of her Godly power?"

"Thor," Frigga said, walking over and comforting her son. "Whoever did this to dear Ingrid will be punished. We will find them."

"What are we supposed to do, mother? She's a goddess, and she's lost her ability. People need her," Thor said.

"She is more than just her gift, my son. She will help her people in incredible ways without her voice."

"Mother, she is the goddess of song. Not the goddess of kindness. She is not a goddess without her voice," Thor stated, blankly.

To hear Thor say this about her, in her bedroom, made her mouth run dry. It was as if she wasn't in the room to him. It was hurtful, and she had never heard Thor speak of her in this way.

"Thor," Frigga scolded. "You know better than that."

"She is not worthy of Asgard's throne if she cannot serve her people like she so promised!" He yelled.

The room fell silent, and Ingrid drew her knees up to her chest to hug them, tears freely falling from her eyes. The only thing that could be heard throughout the room were Ingrid's quiet sniffles, and everyones eyes turned to her when they started.

Thor's eyes immediately softened when he met her teary ones, guilt racing across his face.

"Ingrid, my darling," he started, walking up to her. "I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry-"

But he was cut off by Ingrid's hand shooting up to stop him. He bounced back, hurt flashing across his eyes.

"Ingrid," he pleaded.

She shook her head in response, as no sound would leave her vocals.

"You should go," Frigga said.

"Mother," he said, looking over to Frigga.

"No, Thor. You've done enough damage, it's best for you to go."

With a sigh, and one last regretful look at Ingrid, Thor walked out of her room. Once he left, Ingrid's shoulders started to heave, sobs wracking through her body. She had just woken up, and it was so much to process. She hadn't even gotten the chance to full realize her voice had been stolen from her before the man she considered one of her best friends and was supposed to marry started hurling insults about her in her own bedroom.

Frigga sat down on her bed and pulled her into her. She combed through her hair and whispered sweet words to her to calm her down. Frigga was the closest thing Ingrid had to a mother, and she made her feel better when she needed a mom.

"We will overcome this, my darling," Frigga said. "We'll find whoever took your voice from you. You are no less of a goddess this morning than you were last night. I'm truly sorry for my sons words."

"It's okay," Ingrid said, or tried to say. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and just nodded back at Frigga instead.

"Loki," Frigga said, motioning for her other son. "Why don't you entertain our girl with some of your magic? Or perhaps a card game? You two used to love to play together."

Loki gave his mother a small smile and nodded his head at her.

"Of course, mother," he replied.

"Thank you, my boy. She is in need of a friend."

Frigga exited the room, along with the healers, leaving Ingrid alone with Loki. She sighed before looking at him, his eyes swiftly meeting hers. The silence was uncomfortable. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. She wanted to apologize for her actions and words last night, she wanted to confide in him about her tumultuous love life, and she wanted to tell him he was the one that she wanted. But everything would have to be left unsaid.

When they were children, Loki would often put on 'magic shows' for Ingrid. Once, Odin asked for one, and Loki told his father that they were 'only for Ingrid.' His magic entertained her, and he knew this, so each time he'd put on a show for her, he made sure he was showing his favorite tricks.

"So," Loki started, carefully taking a seat next to her on the bed. "I've been working on a new trick."

Ingrid sat up a bit at that, her interest showing. Loki took this as her go ahead.

He raised his hand in the air, palm face up, and mini fireworks started coming out of thin air in the palm of his hand. Ingrid let a smile grace her features, a laugh wanting to escape her so badly.

"It's nothing huge," the God said. "But it's pretty."

Ingrid nodded her head at him, her smile widening. He let out an airy laugh, smiling back at her. He closed his hand, making the fireworks disappear. Ingrid let her smile settle, and his did too. She felt his hand creep to hers, grabbing it in his large hand and giving it a squeeze. Loki's hands were soft. Silky smooth. Just like his voice. Ingrid looked down at their hands, and then looked back to him, her gaze questioning.

"I'm sorry for what my brother said," he started, his gaze soft upon her. "And I'm sorry for the predicament you're in."

Her gaze hardened, a blush forming on her cheeks. She had hoped she had dreamt about telling Loki about her true desires regarding her marriage, but it was evident she had confided in him.

"I've not forgotten our little talk last night," he confirmed, making the girl look away from him. "And I want to help you. I know how it feels to be burdened with something you don't want."

"How can you help?" Ingrid so badly wanted to ask. She wasn't used to not having her voice, and she didn't like it.

"And I'm sorry that you lost your voice," he continued. "You're still a goddess, Ingrid. You always will be. No one can strip you of that."

She gave him a faint smile in return, squeezing his hand back. His hands were ice cold, yet she didn't shiver away from his touch. In fact, she wanted more of his touch. Loki had always brought her comfort, but her hand in his gave her a sense of being grounded no touch had ever given her before.

Everyone knew Loki and Ingrid had a connection deeper than they understood. Loki had never been one to open up, but he had always told Ingrid everything. She too, told him her deepest secrets. They had both seen each other in their most vulnerable states, therefore creating a bond no one could understand.

She had always had feelings for the prince, but she felt naughty when she thought of acting on them. After all, she was engaged to his brother, the future king. She should be fawning over Thor, the future king of Asgard. But instead, Ingrid often found herself lusting over Loki in the shadows.

"Ingrid," Loki's voice said, but this time in her head, his silky voice sending chills down her spine. She gave him a startled look, his telepathic abilities something she wasn't used to. "You can speak back," he continued.

"This is oddly frightening," she said back, not really sure if he could hear her say that or not.

"But now you have someone to speak to," Loki's voice said, confirming he had heard her.

"I can't believe that worked," she said, looking at him wide eyed. They had never communicated telepathically to one another. She knew that he could, but she couldn't. He had obviously made it to where she could communicate back with him. She hoped he couldn't read her mind.

"I can," he said. When she looked at him, mortified, he had a small smirk playing on his lips. "I can hear everything you're thinking."

"Loki stop," she threatened. "I'm more than happy to speak with you because I need it, but I can't have you reading my mind."

"Why? Something naughty you don't want me to know?" He smirked.

Her face heated up, and at the mention of naughty thoughts, images of Loki popped into her head. She quickly willed those thoughts away, her face turning bright red out of fear he saw her thoughts of him.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, grinning at her.

"Loki, get out of my head," she warned.

"But I'm curious as to why you think of me so much," he replied.

If her face wasn't red before, it was cherry red now. She looked at him mortified, and put her head in her hands, shaking it. She was hoping that her actions were enough to get the God out of her head. His laughter rumbled throughout the room as he watched the girl in front of him, clearly in distress.

He moved to sit closer to her on the bed, and her breath hitched. She peeked an eye at him, and she saw him smirking down at her. She was feeling hot, her hands clammy and her forehead sweaty. Loki being this close to her in this state was making her feel fuzzy, and she couldn't tell if she wanted away from him or if she wanted closer to him.

"Who do you desire, my dear?" His voice still in her head, making goosebumps break out all over her body. "Who were you speaking of last night when you said you wanted someone other than Thor?"

"Loki," she said sternly, a warning. If he kept on, she didn't know how long she'd be able to hold her resolve.

"Tell me," he growled, his hand finding purchase on her thigh.

She lightly jumped at the contact, her mouth parting, the air leaving her lungs. She didn't think he felt the same about her, and the realization that he did was both thrilling and terrifying. It excited her because she had always had feelings for him, and it terrified her because of Thor.

"Of course I feel the same, Ingrid," he said, and she took in a sharp breath of air. "How could I not?"

"Because I'm marrying Thor," she said.

"I don't care. You clearly don't want to marry him."

She was at a loss for words, literally and figuratively. Loki was her greatest friend, and she worried what this would do to their relationship. She didn't know how they would go forward. She was to be married in a month and that terrified her.

"This is not how I expected my day to go," she said to him.

"Mine either," Loki chuckled, this time out loud. "I should let you rest, dear. I'm going to assist Odin in finding who stole your voice."

She just nodded at him as he stood up off the bed. She bent back down, however, caging Ingrid in between his arms, causing her to lean back onto her elbows. Her heart was thumping in her chest, and he smirked back at her. One of his hands came up and settled under her jaw, cupping her cheek. She instinctively leaned into his touch, her cheeks bright red again. He leaned forward and took his thumb across her lips, huffing out a laugh as her lips parted.

"Don't think I'll forget this talk," he drawled, his voice deep and smooth like chocolate.

She nodded back at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. He pulled her forward by the neck, and she stopped breathing as she expected his lips upon hers, her eyes fluttering shut. But instead of his lips finding hers, she felt them firmly press on her forehead.

"See you later, darling," he smirked, pulling away from her and laughing as she sat on the bed dazed and wide eyed.

She watched as he sauntered out of her room, and she let out the breath she had been holding. Her hand found her chest, and she placed it there as she slowed her rapid heartbeat. She flopped back on her bed, a small smile forming on her lips.

Maybe this month wouldn't be so bad after all.

~~

A/N: Yaaas! It's done! Lemme know what you think! Definitely more parts to come! As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

[firstofficerwiggles]

Hello! I've binged so much of your writing today and oh my gods, I love it!

I hope I'm not too late to get in on the ask, but one of the star wars boys writing to me would be lovely. I'm over 50, and it's hard to admit this but I've never been on the receiving end of romantic gestures. Don't get me wrong, there's been much love in my life - practical, solid, occasionally goofy - but no romance.

Maybe it's my work? State Department, medic of various sorts including search and rescue, now a security guard. Practical stuff. But I also adore tea parties, and gardens, and steampunk and the entire Star Wars universe. Right now I'm building a Mandalorian medic outfit for conventions because bad ass medic who WILL shoot the asswipe who put that gaping hole in you? Yes.

Anyhow, sorry for babbling on and on at you. Whichever of the ones you think would romance an older woman, and would enjoy being spicy with a lady that can take a punch or dish one out, who grows flowers that also make a useful poultice to clear up that nasty bruise, hm?

Many thanks!

Aelf

Welcome to my blog! I’m so glad you found it and that you’re enjoying my writing. I can’t thank you enough for your kind words 💗 I’m going to ship you with Din Djarin for several reasons, first, I think Din loves badass women with a softer side too, and also because Din definitely needs his own personal medic 😂 (for the Mando’a: cyar’ika = sweetheart, ner kar’ta = my heart)

Cyar’ika,

How are you, my love? I miss you more than I can say. I’m finally headed home after this latest mission for the New Republic. Why is it that so many of their missions need to take place in places that are more swamp than land? I swear I’m going to be scrubbing the beskar for a full week after this glop. I’m also not ashamed to admit that I’m going to need some patching up when I get back to you. I promise I was trying to be careful, but chasing after Trandoshans in a place infested with vines and the galaxy’s biggest mud puddles was a recipe for falling on my ass. Speaking of, there’s probably a few bruises there that I could use your help with. Thankfully I know you don’t mind looking at said ass. Mmm, and you know, if your ass needs any checking, I’m always available. In fact when I get home, I say we send the kiddo to go visit Auntie Peli, and then we get into a nice hot, soapy tub and you can inspect every inch of me, and you know I’m going to want to return that favor. Plus, as I reminded you last time, your kisses do even more for me than your medicines. I think I need to spend at least one entire evening sampling those sweet lips of yours while you’re in my arms. That sounds like sheer heaven to me. And well, you’re always telling me I need to spend more time in bed, so of course, we’ll need to spend several hours there too. It’s important for my health, and for yours too, because I’m sure you need to have some tension relieved like only I can. In fact I intend to see how often I can relieve that tension for you all night long. Ah, ner kar’ta, I wish I were home right now. I can’t wait to hear you saying my name and telling me how much you missed me too. The moment I see you, this helmet is coming off and I’m going to kiss you like something out of one of those romantic holofilms you love so much. You know what, I’m also going to send a message to Peli right now, she might need to keep the baby for a few days, because I think I need lots of extra time to remind you how special you are to me. Until then, take care, cyar’ika and know that I’m hurrying back to you.

Love,

Din

Send in an ask for Wiggles' 1200 Follower Celebration

[lovings4turn]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 — send me a lil description of yourself + fandom(s) and i'll ship you with someone + give you your best friend !

hello love! first up, a huge congratulations once again for the milestone, i am very proud of you and you deserve all the follows you have and much more !! 🫶🫶🫶 now i have to describe myself, huh? here we go then! sending it from off-anon for funsies i guess !! 😭 you already know me though, so wellll... let's go for real!!

i'm dutch && indian, speaking upto five languages, and tend to ramble in any of those at any given time. (english; spanish; dutch; hindi; sindhi!) though, an odd catch is i do not speak until spoken to - yep, i'm that much of an introvert 😭 my bad, i guess? i do speak when comfortable with someone, of course! i have short dark brown hair, and unfortunately am very short, making me not look my age. i've been confused for my younger brother many times because of my voice, apparently it sounds like a child?? (oh my gosh, imagine the ship joking around about that! 😭) onto my likes, i love F1 and spending my time on pinterest as well as that, i love reading and frying my cells about STEM because women in stem ✌🏼but i also have adhd, so i can barely pay attention for long before mentally blocking out everything in sight. i love making things look pretty and playing games on my laptop. also, one weird thing is i can never sit to watch a movie - i don't have the attention span for it, nor can i sit still for that long, AND i always feel guilty for spending time watching a movie, because i feel like i could be productive. but.... i guess that's it about me? if anything, you can ask/my account is there at your viewing pleasure! :DD another congratulations love!!

EEEK hello my lovely !!! ruhi you truly are the sweetest ever , thank u sm and thank you for all of the love n support i swear :(( thanks so much for joining in w the celebration lovely ,, i hope you like this !!!

𝐢'𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 !

now i did have a bit of a struggle trying to choose just one driver to ship you with , but lando won in the end for me !! i just think you two would be oh so cute together , and are a match made in heaven !

ᡣ𐭩 lando loves how you're shorter than him , oh my god does he love it !!! he's such a little shit about it , constantly resting his elbow on top of your head or joking that he's going to do his back in one day bending down to kiss you ! the first time he witnesses you be mistaken for your younger brother , he loses his absolute mind . thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen , and presses a kiss to your pout through his laughter . he never lets you live it down , i'm afraid

ᡣ𐭩 so so impressed by the fact that you're a woman in stem ! lando cannot wrap his head around most , if not all , of the things that you study , and any time he peers over you're shoulder when you're reading a textbook , he eels his brain turn to mush . is always telling you how smart you are and how proud of you he is , because his girl is so smart and he's so proud !!!

ᡣ𐭩 you guys love playing games together , oh my god !!! lando likes that he can spend time with the person he loves most whilst doing something he loves , too ! you both get far too invested in the game , and are teasingly competitive with one another , and lando thinks it's the best way to spend his time !

ᡣ𐭩 lando doesn't mind that you don't have the attention span to sit and watch a film - he much prefers being able to do something more active / engaging with you , anyways !!!! lando loves being busy and on the move , so it works out perfectly for him

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 !

ᡣ𐭩 this makes so much sense to me , and i love the idea of max being besties with lando's gf okay !!! max loves that he can speak dutch with you , something about not having to do the quick mental translations means he can max-splain and yap to you as much as he wants !! he makes an effort to engage in conversation with you whenever he sees you , even though he knows you're comfy enough to spark the conversation

ᡣ𐭩 he understands you , with the whole 'always feeling the need to be productive' thing . max is a guy who always wants to be doing something (hence his inability to get off of the sim !!!) and so this idea is something you can both bond over and joke about

ᡣ𐭩 also very intrigued about your studies !! max finds the whole thing super engaging , and though he says he wouldn't have a clue about anything you're studying , he has no issues with you rambling about the subject to him - or just straight up complaining about the amount of hard work you have to do !

[lostinthewoods1991]

On the Birth and Death of Selves

It was my birthday yesterday. Over time, birthday is a day I've come to dread. New year is the same too. Birthday is one of those days that reminds me of all the ways in which I look like a failure to others. As a child, I was an overachiever. Not because I fancied being that but because I somehow ended up being so. I was someone who was unanimously considered talented. However, even as a child, I never understood what the hype was all about. I was treated like I was a potential celebrity in the making. I started singing professionally when I was a six-year-old, clueless kid. I was called to give interviews on TV shows, I was part of big stage shows, I always had recordings coming up and I was even invited as a chief guest to functions! It's all common these days but wasn't, back then. Atleast not as much as it is today, not in the field of singing. I remember wondering what was wrong with everyone and I swear I'm not humblebragging. It was too much for me to wrap my head around. Maybe there are children who find it easy and good. I wasn't one of them. I grew up hearing I'm a prodigy and that I was supposed to make it big in life. Very big. How was it possible for a child who was so immensely loved and appreciated to feel so intensely lonely? I don't think anybody understood that.

My outer self and inner self were always so far away from each other. Over time, the gap only widened. There's an abyss in between. The bridge that runs over the abyss is now old, shaky and crumbling in places. I don't even know if anybody can truly cross over. There are constant reminders and lamentations that I am put through. "Evide ethanda kutti aayirunnu" is the most tiring one among them. Some people say it's a case of evil eye. Some say it's because I lack God's grace. Some say it's just that I'm lazy. What nobody understands is how burned out I was, by the time I was a teenager. I wanted to have nothing to do with singing. Around that time, my vocal chords suffered from something like a minor damage and I seized the opportunity to bail out of all the occasions where I was expected to sing. That was how desperate I was for an escape.

You know the thing about being considered talented? About being praised all the time? You lose your right to make mistakes. To be anything less than the best. To have a choice of not participating in the race. You lose all these rights. I did. I was a painfully shy, quiet child who just wanted people to let me be. That's all I ever wanted. I grew tired of praise. My identity was brought down to my talent. I hated singing but people made me feel I didn't have the right to hate it. I was told I was being ungrateful. I was told I owed my singing to others. I hated being on stage. I hated being pushed. Most of all, I hated that I didn't seem to have the space to explore any other aspect of who I was or who I wanted to be. I only wanted to be understood as a human being. It was such a basic need of mine that went unmet.

Today, as an adult, I know I'm still that child seeking understanding from the world. I believe that was the drive behind my need to put out my thoughts and feelings. There was so much of me that was buried under others' expectations of who I should be. I believe I reached a point in life where atleast I had to understand myself, if nobody else could. In my attempts to do so, I might have come across as self-obsessed, I know. A psychiatrist I once met told me I am emotionally complex. It's better to make peace with the fact that you will probably never be understood the way you want to be, instead of seeking it everywhere, she said. I never went back to her, though I know she must have had a point.

I have almost completely stopped singing. I lost my ability to sing without feeling the presence of an audience expecting the best out of me. Writing is mostly the only way of self-expression I have now. There's a reason behind my insistence that I should be the ultimate judge of my writing. It's a sense of control that I did not have as a child. I need validation but I also need control. Today, I'm a disappointment to many people who knew me from childhood. They look at me like how they'd look at a tragic heroine from a Shakesperean play. It's all so dramatic. "Ammu, why are you destroying yourself?" - I heard this today too. How do I tell people that I am not trying to destroy myself but I am, in reality, trying to reclaim myself? Is there anybody here who believes me when I say that? Because I wanted to please others and be fair to myself too at the same time, I have found myself existing on the bridge all my life. It's a nearly collapsing bridge and I have many times fallen through, into the abyss. None of these people will understand my struggle because they don't know me. Even if I lay my heart bare before them, they will see only what they want to see, obviously.

Despite all this, I live with something in my mind that says I haven't lost at life. Who decides what's loss and victory anyway? I have disappointed myself plenty of times. I still do. But not in ways that others think. And I am winning at life, but in ways that might be invisible to others. What hasn't changed is the fact that I was invisible, I'm still invisible and I'll probably always be invisible. But, I'm trying my best to be a better person. I guess that will count, for now. :)

[avengers-rule103]

Rating the songs from RUSH! because everyone's doing it, it looks like fun, and i'm a sheep 🤷‍♀️

OWN MY MIND: 10/10 starting off with an absolute banger!!! something i love about måneskin is that sooo many of their songs have such amazing and strong energy and feeling behind them that you just want to scream them out and this is one of those!!

GOSSIP: 7/10 I do really like this song, the chorus has been stuck in my head since i first heard it which is always a great sign, but now that we have the rest of the album it's definitely a tad lower on my list.

TIMEZONE: 10/10 okay here's the thing, i fully understand that this song is talking about his girlfriend and being back in italy with her... i get it. buuut i live in australia soo the whole "the only thing that keeps us apart is a diffeent timezone" really struck cause like... it's true... kind of lol.

BLA BLA BLA: 5/10 i'm sorryyyyy!! i get this song is supposed to be funny, i get it, i swear, buut it's just not for me. i'm gonna keep listening to it in the hopes it'll grow on me but for right now... yeah.

BABY SAID: 9/10 i love this song, i love what it's about, i love that it's so clear he's trying to get to know her better and she is just not having it because they do not want the same thing, it's really well done and a very relatable experience!

GASOLINE: 10/10 i listened to this song many many many times through live performances and the entire time i've been so curious and excited for what the studio version was gonna sound like and i was so not disappointed at all. this is another song that you just want to scream and put your entire chest into it. love it!

FEEL: 9/10 this song is sexy af to me, it makes me want to... do.... things *cough cough* blue jeans and leather look great on people, but there really are some people where that shit just looks better on the floor, ya know?

DON'T WANNA SLEEP: 10/10 because I RELATE TO THIS SO FUCKING HARD OH MY GOD. another absolute banger!

KOOL KIDS: 4/10 how many of y'all absolutely hate me right now? this song just isn't for me, like with bla bla bla i'm gonna keep listening to it in the hopes it'll grow on me but if i'm being honest... i don't think it is.

IF NOT FOR YOU: 10/10 i'm a ballad hoe my guys, and this song is beautiful. it's so fucking beautiful. if someone wrote a song like this about me i would cry and melt and just never ever be the same again.

READ YOUR DIARY: 6/10: it's fun, it's a bop, but it's not a fave, i don't have much else to say about it tbh.

MARK CHAPMAN: 7/10 i can't reeally rate this one or any of the songs in italian fairly because i don't speak a word of italian, i know it's about a celebrity and a stalker from the little "storyline" at the bottom of spotify and that's it, the instruments were fun, it was a bop, damiano sounds great even though i have no idea what he's saying. yeah.

LA FINE: 8/10 it's so much fun, i did read the translated lyrics back when it was first released and since then i've forgotten and i can't be bothered to look them up again for this but it's great, i love it.

IL DONO DELLA VITA: 7/10 this song made me feel really emotional even though again, gotta look up the translated lyrics. but of course it's great.

MAMMA MIA: 9/10 this song hits in the right spot and if i could explain to you why this one hits but bla bla bla doesn't, i would... but i don't know, so i can't. it's fun, it's partially about self expression and only trying to be yourself and having other people look down on you for it and partially about eating someone out and ya know...why not?

SUPERMODEL: 9/10 another really fun one, i think with songs like this and mamma mia, gasoline, ect, seeing it performed live (for me it was *live* through youtube, i'm sure seeing them in person would hit waayy different) just adds another level. also the lyric "she'll never love you, you just look a bit like her dad" absolutely brutal and i love it.

THE LONELIEST: 10/10 yet another one that you just want to put on full blast and scream away the feelings and the pain and everything until your chest hurts. this song is heartbreaking and beautiful and i relate to it a lot. i did also see the performance they did of this not too long after damiano's grandfather passed away, and my grandfather's passing is the reason i relate to it so seeing him just kind of breakdown in the middle... i understood and just really wanted to give him a hug.

and just a little parting note, did anyone else notice juuust how much cocaine was mentioned since what happened at eurovision? i just thought it was funny. he's really holding a grudge over that, which is understandable but still funny. 😅

[safedistancefrombeingsmart]

oh i'm so glad you reblogged it!!! i love legally asking stupid shit interesting asks!

12. What was your last dream about?

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

37. Favorite swear word?

i'm not done yet but i'll give you some time to breathe in between my asks 😁

Well, I thought I would have a bit of time to answer these. And then I didn't and that damn printer broke and it's nearly 11 and I wanted to go to bed early (-ish). *sigh* But yay, here we go.

12. What was your last dream about? I honestly don't remember. I pretty much never remember any of my dreams.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Well, I got a few speeding tickets since getting my driving licence in 2002 (I think 3 or 4 in total) and I got a parking ticket once. Nothing else, I've been a good girl. 😇 (thank god being a smartass isn't illegal, otherwise the answer to this question would be different. 😂)

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 'Met' is a bit far fetched, I guess. But Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys once waved at me, back before they were really famous. And I once saw Oliver Geissen at the Airport Köln- Bonn and we nodded to each other. 😂 Oh, and just last week I saw Nora Gharib (Flemish actress) in the IKEA. xD Oh, do you want to know which celebrity I want to meet? Well, guess!

37. Favorite swear word? I think you can never go wrong with a short and powerful 'Fuck!'. But I also like 'damn' and 'holy shit' and 'scheiße' and 'godverdomme'. Yea, I swear in 3 languages. 😎

Send me more asks!

[thekimspoblog]

There's a prevalence of Jewish atheists who celebrate the holidays for cultural reasons rather than religious observance. I could see that applying to Kim and her feelings on circumcision.

I was more thinking: It's a hospital in America so they're going to push it on new parents. Kim straight up hadn't considered what she would say in this moment, so she refers to Jimmy's expertise. Jimmy doesn't want to admit that HE was mutilated, so he gives the green light to make Iris "look like his daddy". Sadly that's usually how this goes.

Either way thanks. I'm really looking forward to the prison smuggling fic.

I think Jimmy would at least consider Kim's opinion, especially since she has a traditionally Jewish last name. America is more likely to mutilate those born AMAB, but Jimmy is an ex–Catholic who typically don't engage in the practice.

1. Didn't realize Wexler was Jewish; I'd been wondering about the ethnicity of her name but hadn't looked it up. 2. I thought Catholics were circumcised. The ones I've met were at least. I mean in my timeline Kim is *very loosely* a born again Christian with ties to Satanism. Jimmy had considered unironically converting to Judaism before the remarriage, but never went through with it. Alternatively, when Kim found out she was having a boy, maybe she stayed up all night researching the issue. But that's still no guarantee she'd reach the same conclusions I did: the "it's more hygienic" argument is very prevalent even if I think it's an unsubstantiated claim. Either way, they would still have the same birth name. Kim low-key wanted a girl, but mostly she just sees the name as gender neutral.

Like the church they joined was the Riverton Unitarian Interfaith Church, so Dawson was preaching that all paths to god were valid in his temple. But again Dawson is dead, and any congregation members who may be working as nurses in the hospital, Kim's going to be skeptical of their medical advice.

I was curious about circumcision in America since you made your post, so I looked up stats by state. Catholics believe its a neutral action religiously since baptism has replaced the covenant with God that circumcision is for Jewish people. It's more common in American Catholics and more again in Eastern states. It goes from like 80% of men to less than 10% in western states.

My lore has them settling in Colorado which is 56%, while states like Oregon it is only 17%.

So i think its highly dependent on the state as to the amount of pressure that a parental couple would receive.

What about Wyoming?

Kinda wild to see tbh

Such variation in the practice between states

I think it's definitely falling out of vogue. But then again RUIC does give off some strong "conflake cult" vibes so who knows.

That's true. I have faith in parents who make good choices for their AMAB babies.

I think Dawson on some level genuinely believed that all religions have a grain of truth. But mostly he just wanted to cast a WIDE net in recruiting members, because that means more tithes.

Makes sense, people love to feel like they're in on something special.

In general, Iris would be raised the same; the parents wanted them to grow up free to express themselves and they didn't put too much gendered expectation on them. But in the back of their heads it's like: AMAB (Jimmy's POV): My son! Someone to carry on the McGill name. Chip off the ol block; I'll teach him everything he needs to know. AFAB (Jimmy's POV): My little girl! My princess! Anything she needs, just talk to her daddy... even if it's a pony not sure how I'd say no. AMAB (KIm's POV): I swear on the stars this one's going to grow up to respect me. AFAB (Kim's POV): So... how young is too young to start lecturing her about keeping her hand over her drink?

Yeah, Jimmy is an excellent parent either way. Which is ironic because if Kim had an accidental pregnancy they'd kept during BCS days then Breaking Bad would have never happened.

I think Breaking Bad would have still happened. Just Iris would have grown up in a mansion getting corralled into the Panic Room every other week. Not too different from how things ended up anyway tbh. But if Iris grew up with Saul Goodman money they would have ended up very spoiled, as both parents were trying to compensate for insecurities by buying the child's love. The real reason everything went down like it did, was because in Sheepdog, Kim was given the option to have Iris in 2005 OR delay it and wait until 2017, and Kim foresaw how in the 2005 timeline, Jimmy's failure to deal with the Chuck baggage low-key ruined Iris's life.

She decided they would both be in a better place mentally and emotionally if they waited and sorted out their shit a little more first.

They're trying to be progressive, but let's face it both still have some issues with gender politics. I mean when Iris came out as nonbinary, Kim had a little private crisis like "Wait you can just OPT OUT of being a woman?! THAT WAS AN OPTION?! I'm 60 years old and I'm learning this now?!"

[intergalactic-chameleon]

gender thoughts: friendships with straight boys + girls

i've sort of talked about this before but god being able to make friends or just silly conversation with boys, especially straight boys, really is something that is fun for me. in general, i dont really care about straight men -- i far prefer queer men, and i look up to them way more that i would a straight man (excluding celebrity actor men that i like lol). but regardless, sometimes, having some silly goose banter with another straight guy that i deem Okay enough to enable myself to talk to can be such a special little treat for me. i grew up loving being friends with boys, and had many successful friendships with them, but especially as i went into middle school, rarely did the majority ever truly want to be my friend back. either they had feelings for me that were unwanted/not reciprocated OR more often than not, they just... didn't care. they didn't see me as a Real friend probably bc didn't see me as a viable dating candidate AND i would not dumb myself or my morals down for them to see me as "one of the good ones." and it fucking sucked!! guys in high school were absolutely atrocious when it came to feminism/LGBT stuff which was super disheartening.

but now that im in college (even tho it's ending soon), i feel a lot more... respected as a human being than before. which isn't saying a lot lol, straight men still are misogynist and bigoted in various other ways which make them unappealing to me. but i noticed as soon as i transferred to art school last year, men and women were far more integrated than what i had seen in high school. and seeing that really renewed my faith in making friends with another man, even tho i still probably will stick with queer men as my buddies for my sanity's sake.

in the perspective of my genderqueer identity, getting to positively interact with other masculine people (including men of course) feels so EUPHORIC... even if the other person only sees me as a Girl, i still express myself pretty openly and authentically if given the chance and i feel like they respond well to it. i've noticed a couple guys that ive interacted with once or a few times before that give me a glance while walking past me every now and then, as if to say "i think you're cool. im probably not gonna try and talk to you cuz im shy and unsure if i actually wanna be friends or not, but you intrigue me." of course, i may just be projecting what i Want them to think hahaha. but i swear, when i talk to straight boys like they're my equal, i think that genuinely makes an impression on them. and so they wonder about me. straight boys wanna be my friend but they're emotionally repressed and/or dont deserve my friendship!! and honestly? i kinda... dig that. lmfao. feels like i have the upper hand for once in my life. i swear im not being delusional HAHA.

but yea, anyway... i was just thinking about this because masculinity is weirdly important for me. being able to express it while in camaraderie with someone else is !!! so exciting! feels like im making up for lost time all those years that my male peers rejected me, forcing me to only really interact with girls. and just to be clear, i didn't have a problem with girls at all. they were a far better option than the boys so ofc p much all of my friends were girls for a very long time and expressing myself femininely wasn't like, totally inauthentic. but since i felt like girls were my only choice back in the day, that lead me to sort of repress any masculinity i wanted to express because i knew a lot of girls wouldn't "get" it. i've always felt different from most girls in general - being queer and neurodivergent and all - and trying to fit in with any of them who had any semblance of popularity (and who were usually very pretty + feminine) just... never really worked. to this day, i just dont feel feminine enough to really connect to the vast range of girls i've come in to contact with. a lot of them have access to a certain kind of social capital that i just never will be able to access simply by being more feminine that me. which is ok, i like spending my time exclusively with queer, trans, gnc, neurodivergent people. but yea, i've always kind of felt like an outsider to the womanhood that a lot of my cis female peers seem to experience, yet i don't exactly feel explicitly left out. this outsider experience is voluntary in a lot of ways because i know this experience just isnt exactly for me. womanhood as i know it is very informed by heterosexual dynamics and compulsory femininity and that just isn't my vibe at all!