#i want this to get in the THOUSANDS if all possible.

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

[ID: The first image is a movie poster for the Dreamworks movie Home, showing Oh, a Boov (a wide, short, purple creature), Tip, a black girl, and a calico cat. The rest of the images are screenshots of sections of The True Meaning of Smekday, by Adam Rex.

In a ridiculously short amount of time, the Boov determined that humans were unwilling to mix peacefully into their culture. They pointed out all the people who fled instead of welcoming their new neighbors, even those whose homes had been taken outright. Captain Smek himself appeared on television for an official speech to humankind. (He didn't call us humankind, of course. He called us Noble Savages of Earth. Apparently we were all still living on Earth at this point.) "Noble Savages of Earth," he said. "Long time have we tried to live together in peace." (It had been five months.) "Long time have the Boov suffered under the hostileness and intolerableness of you people. With sad hearts I now concede that Boov and humans will never to exist as one." I remember being really excited at this point. Could I possibly be hearing right? Were the Boov about to leave? I was so stupid. "And so now I generously grant you Human Preserves—gifts of land that will be for humans forever, never to be taken away again, now." I stared at the TV, mouth agape. "But we were here first," I said pathetically.

The tent was strung with white Christmas lights and packed with people, all facing a stage on one end. And on the stage stood a redheaded man in a wifebeater with a Viking tattooed on his chest. People were booing him. "Shut up!" the redhead was saying. "I have the stage! All I'm saying is, now that we've all had to leave our real homes, we got a chance to get America right! There can be a place for the Saxon Americans, and a place for the coloreds, and a place for—shut up!"

"So every place has some kind of leader?" I asked. It had all happened so fast. "Sure. Most of them are former state governors, or senators, or whatever. The president runs a little town called Rye." "Just a little town?" "Yes..." said Mitch. "He's not very popular anymore, because of the invasion. People assume it was his fault somehow. But we have to have leaders. We have to have government." "I guess," I said. "Daniel Landry's district is far south of here," he said, "on some former Indian land." "Indian land? Like a reservation?" "That's right." "Is this Dan guy an Indian?" "I don't think so, no. I'm pretty sure he's white. He wasn't a governor or anything before, but he's really rich, so I imagine he's a good leader." "Uh-huh. But he's white," I said. "The Indians elected a white guy?" "Well...I don't know. I imagine all the other people elected him. It's mostly white folks living on the reservation now." I frowned. "And the Indians are okay with this?" "What do you mean?" "Well...it was a reservation," I said. "It was land we promised to the Native Americans. Forever." Mitch looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. "But...we needed it," he said.

"Mr. Hinkel," said the Chief, jerking his head toward the sleeping man. "He thinks Indians like me ought to live somewhere else. Likes to tell me about it a lot." I didn't really want to talk about Mr. Hinkel. "Well, maybe they'll let him go soon." "Doubt it," said the Chief. "Got beat up pretty good by someone who thinks gay people like him ought to live somewhere else."

The last excerpt from the book is in comic format, divided into four main panels. The first is captioned, "2,000 (two thousand) years ago - Many schools closed by the HighBoov, because Money is Needed Elsewhere. Boov are told not to worry about learning unimportant things. Boov are told to learn one useful thing that may be done over and over again and give their life meaning. HighBoov devise clever tests to find which Boov should be taught more, and which Boov should not be taught because Money is Needed Elsewhere." Boov are shown doing things like guarding, serving food, and taking care of children.

The second panel is captioned, "1,150 (one thousand, one hundred and fifty) years ago - Certain Boov who were taught many things announce that industry is polluting the waters of Boovworld." Boov in uniforms point to a chart of their world and gesture to something outside a window, presenting this information to other Boov in fancy outfits. "These scientist predict that the oceans soon will no longer be able to sustain life, unless things are changed."

The third panel is captioned, "1,149 (one thousand, one hundred and forty-nine) years ago - HighBoov declare that these warnings of pollution cannot be proven, so therefore nothing should be changed. The scientist Boov who gave these warnings are declared evil-evil that they should call our God unclean. These Boov are named the Forgotten and sent onto land into exile forever. Some of them die of asphyxiation. Most don't." A line of Boov trudge out of water onto land.

The fourth panel is captioned, "1,003 (one thousand and three) years ago - God dies of asphyxiation." There are many skeletons with lots of darkness in the background.

Plain text: "1,003 years ago, God dies of asphyxiation" End ID]

like the most politically neutered movie of all time unironically

[razorblade180-heated]

A Naughty Gift

[Warning:Smut. It’s like 90% smut]

There’s no season like the Christmas season. Grimm missions were on the low and the only trouble to be found was lack of ham. That and traffic; man did Jaune have enough of traffic. Five hours of guiding civilians across roads may sound like an easy mission, but doing it in cold snow was a special layer of pain. Boy was he glad to be off.

As he walked into his shared apartment, the wonderful smell of gingerbread and hot chocolate warmed his soul. “Ah~ the smell of joy. Man, I love the holidays.”

He looked around the baker of such treats, but did not find the chef or her assistant. “Ruby? Weiss?” Not a single response. Maybe they stepped out.

Jaune moseyed his way into the kitchen to grab a cookie, but was halted by a note on the dish that said, “Focus on your gift.” A gift? Had they hidden one for him. It was Christmas Eve and Weiss had been super strict about touching absolutely nothing under the tree.

“I doubt it’s there.” He thought, fearing the consequences of unwrapping a present. He knew what they got him, but still had to play by holiday rules. Next likely place would be his room. But first, he wanted to see if anything was strange about theirs.

Jaune walked down the hall and went to Weiss’s room, the first door on the right. He carefully peeked inside to see a pristinely made bed and light blue mood lighting that put snowflakes on the wall. Nothing out of place here.

He then went deeper into the hall to the first room on the left; Ruby’s room. Jaune was way more comfortable opening up the door wider than Weiss’s. Once again, nobody was in there. The strange thing however was Ruby’s bed was also made!

“That’s slightly concerning.” He thought to himself. Now they were definitely planning something. Everything is only spick and span at the same time when thought of doing it later would be incredibly bothersome. Guess his room left. Unless they were both hiding in the bathroom, which he highly doubted.

There was still also the possibility they simply weren’t home. They had finished their missions ahead of him but they could’ve stepped out. Jaune twisted the knob to his room and opened the door. Immediately his face went red and his eyes became bigger than the cookies Ruby baked.

“Well hello. I guess you are home.”

On his bed with a proud grin and red cheeks was Ruby. She waved as best she could with hands bound together by a red ribbon that wrapped around her figure, covering only her chest and restraining her legs a little as well. The only thing stopping her from being completely naked was a Santa hat. Much like her partner, who was a thousand times more embarrassed.

Weiss laid right beside Ruby in blue ribbon that had her wrists tied behind her back. The girl looked a little pouty to be put in such a situation. It was clear who’s idea this was.

“How the heck did she talk you into this?” Jaune said, more intrigued than aroused.

“She insisted this was a Christmas idea she wanted to try at least once. I caved.”

Ruby giggled. “Oh don’t act like you weren’t interested at all.”

“Maybe one on one! This is a lot…” She looked at Jaune anxiously. “I hope you know this took a lot of effort! I can’t tell you how infuriating it was to get the Arma Gigas to tie us.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Neither did I! My sister would kill me if she knew this is how I made use of my training.” Weiss lamented.

Ruby kissed her cheek and nudged the girl. “Cheer up! I’m very proud of you for humoring me, and I’m sure someone else is.”

It was true, although he didn’t need to tell them that. Both pairs of eyes watched a tent try to pitch itself under jeans in real time. Jaune couldn’t help but chuckle and sigh.

“Never a dull moment in this apartment.”

“Happy early Christmas!” Ruby cheered. “Though this is technically a gift to me, I’m sure we’ll all cherish it.”

Jaune began taking off his armor at a normal pace as much as possible. “I guess now is as good a time as any to give you both a present each.”

“Oh?” Weiss raised a brow. “An actual gift, or was that your way of being cheeky?”

“Haha, cut me some slack.” Jaune walked over to his nightstand and pulled out two small wrapped boxes. “I wasn’t going to put these under the tree considering it was pretty tongue and cheek. Not to mention sorta a joke. Since we’re here though…”

The girls watched him open the red gift that was clearly meant for Ruby. Her curiosity grew more and more until it turned into flustered shock as Jaune pulled out a red collar with her symbol on it. Words failed her. She tried her damndest not to look at Weiss, whose jaw was trying to hit the bed.

“So…that’s what you two get up to?”

“N-Not all the time! It’s just that…ever since I saw how assertive he was with you, I’ve asked him to try a few times on me.” Ruby muttered.

“Don’t pin your awakenings on me!” Weiss heard more wrapper tearing and looked at Jaune with immediate concern. “Hold on-”

“Relax, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Are you certain?” Weiss watched anxiously as Jaune opened the box and pulled out fuzzy light blue handcuffs. An immediate sigh of relief left her lungs and made Ruby squint.

“That’s an interesting reaction. What had you freaking out, hmmm?”

“Listen, some kinks don’t need to be shared.” Weiss blushed deeply. “Leave me with a shred of dignity.”

“We’re naked and wrapped right now but sure, keep your shred. It’s not like I’m in any position to judge right now.” Ruby said lovingly. Right as she finished, Jaune, who was now only in boxers, tilted her head up gently and put the collar on; her face matched the hat on her head immediately. “See? I’m going through it right now.”

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Jaune reminded

“Not the collar! At least not in this situation! I-” Her mind was utterly derailed as he tugged on her gift gently with his right middle finger, pulling her forward until she was on her knees. Ruby’s hands fell against Jaune’s waistband. His right hand moved from the collar to the side of her face. Ruby looked up into deep blue eyes that waited firmly, yet patiently.

“Well? Don’t you want your present?” He said in the voice she loved so dearly.

Ruby didn’t speak. There was nothing really to say honestly. Her fingers tugged the boxer down, freeing the girthy cock underneath. The scent was dizzying to her senses. She had forgotten Jaune had come from work, and yet that only served to lower her head impatiently. In one motion, Ruby swallowed Jaune, working her way to the base of his shaft as the hand on her left began gently rubbing it. Her ears were burning, waiting to hear what always came next when she listened.

“That’s my girl.”

Weiss’s own face became pink as she watched her girlfriend’s head bob up and down slowly. Her gaze turned to Jaune who’s attention was locked onto her. Weiss could feel her heart flutter. He didn’t even put the cuffs on. Although he really didn’t need to in this situation.

“Can you walk?” He asked.

“Y-Yes.” Why was she stuttering now of all times!? Weiss got up from the bed and slowly made her way over to his left side. Her curiosity got the better of her and she looked down at Ruby again. The redhead was trying her best to keep Jaune deep in her throat but clearly struggled, occasionally stopping before the base and attempting to compose herself before trying again. If it was her down there, Jaune would’ve bucked his hips the instant she stopped. Weiss bit her lip at the thought.

“Jealous?” Jaune said, teasing the snow angel mildly.

“As if.” Weiss turned her nose up at the accusation. Her act of pride all but melted through as she felt Jaune’s left hand run up her body. The weight of fingers around her throat made her sigh shakily in yearning as he continued a little further up. Weiss felt him take control of her lower jaw, coaxing her body to stand up on their toes and accept a kiss that robbed her tongue with no intention of returning it. Jaune’s arms moved around her lower back to keep her steady. Weiss appreciated that.

Just like that, the room became an echo chamber of deep yearning. Moans from the trio slipped out alongside the sound of lustful slurps and smacks. Jaune couldn’t help but squeeze Weiss’s soft, plump rear as he tried to control his pleasure. Ruby’s mouth was like a furnace that threatened to melt him as her tongue lathered his cock. In truth, Jaune wasn’t much for aggression in the bedroom often, but they really knew how to rile him up.

Ruby had to remove herself briefly to breathe, coughing as she gasped. Her rest was short lived however as Jaune’s hand ran through her hair and pressed her face against his dick. Not one to keep him waiting, she began sucking and licking along the shaft, causing him to flinch. If only her hands weren’t tied. Her own core was beginning to ache and it looked like she wasn’t alone. Despite her earlier behavior, Weiss was now drowning in a kiss that had her legs trembling.

“Can you please untie us?” Ruby cooed, trying to sway the man.

Jaune broke his kiss with Weiss and let the girl catch her breath. “Mmm I don’t know.” He said, looking down at the flushed reaper. “You both look really cute like this.”

His teasing only made Ruby lose more strength. Her lips continued to play along his shaft. “I…I can’t touch myself like this.”

“Aw, is that what you want?”

Ruby felt his hand slide to her nape. Jaune slowly leaned forward, dragging his fingers down her spine and causing Ruby to raise her hips further until she felt his middle and index slide into her. “Nnngh~” her entire body trembled. Ruby wrapped her lips back around Jaune’s cock as she felt him dig into her. Damn the ribbons. She couldn’t spread her legs wider. To make things worse, the relief turned to dismay as his fingers left her. Ruby tried to groan in frustration, but they merely turned to whimpering.

“I can take care of her.” Weiss said, still a little shaky. No way could she survive another kiss like that.

Jaune had other ideas however. “Or… you both could swap?” He could see the flicker in their eyes. It was surprising they lasted this long doing what the other preferred.

“That could work.” They said in unison.

Jaune removed his boxers completely and laid down in the middle of the bed. It didn't take long at all for to crawl up his right side and get pulled into a mouthwatering kiss that led to their tongues fighting for dominance. The battle wasn’t in her favor unfortunately. With her so close to him, his hand had no problem sliding down her finger and reaching her pussy again. She wasn’t spared this time. Two fingers returned to ruin her, curling their way inside as they pushed in.

“AAAAGHHN~” Her tongue submitted control; Ruby quickly lost so much strength as her hips quivered from assault. Jaune’s left hand returned to the back of her head, keeping her nice and close. She was not escaping this kiss.

On the left side of the bed, Weiss found herself in an equally favorable position. She always did her best work away from prying eyes no matter the circumstances. As deeply as she loved Ruby, there was a thrill in throwing away her inhibitions so while the redhead was none the wiser. Jaune was aware of this, which made seeing his cock pointing to the ceiling all the more exciting. Weiss laid right next to it, dragging her tongue all the way up to the tip before swallowing him whole without issue. She had lost track how many times she’s done this little trick. Each time, it got the results she wanted.

Weiss felt Jaune pulse in her throat, his hips immediately raising up to fill her mouth repeatedly. Her cheeks burned red. Gods, why was she like this? Weiss swirled her tongue around his uncompromising erection, getting a full taste of the precum leaking out while he slowly fucked her throat. Weiss was now torn by Ruby’s early request. She really didn’t need her hands, but it was impossible to ignore how quickly her thighs were getting damp. No one was touching her at all and yet she could feel her walls squeez down on what wasn’t there.

“Mmph~” she moaned, anticipating not only her future pleasure, but the load she’d soon taste. Weiss sucked harder.

Jaune groaned as he put up their best fight. “Thank goodness my mission wasn’t intense today!” He did his best to focus on Ruby but Weiss wasn’t making that easy. Thankfully he knew their weaknesses as well as they knew his.

Ruby felt like she was in a pure trance. Her body steadily found balance in their make out session and she tried her best to hold out. That was…until Jaune had to go and break her concentration. His left hand finally moved from her head but fell down towards chests. Ruby broke the kiss. “N-No! Wait!” She gasped, but her plea was ignored.

Nimble fingers slipped through the wrapping paper and captured her right nipple, latching onto it like a clamp.

“AAANGNH!!!” She cried out without restraint. Ruby’s breath became nothing more than ragged panting

“You always were sensitive here.” Jaune teased, pulling lightly while biting her earlobe. He will give her no room for escape. Jaune pumped his fingers harder until she was sopping wet.

Ruby’s vision blurred. “I…I’M….!” Everything went white. Her voice let out a dry, strained wail that made Weiss blush deeply. Ruby felt her orgasm flow down her trembling legs as Jaune continued to rub her walls. “MERCY!! JAUNE! I CAN’T…” She whined, tears welling up.

“Yes you can.” He whispered, reducing her to a puddle. “You’re doing so well cumming everywhere.”

Her orgasm felt never ending. Jaune had taken it and demanded more of her lust with each passing second, until another wave hit. “AAAGNH!”

“Gooood girl~” He finally slowed his pace. “I knew you could do it.” He let her tit go and rubbed her head again as he gradually brought her down from her high.

Ruby was in no state to respond. All she could manage was whimpering while her body flinched randomly. Jaune’s fingers finally left her as she remained faced down on the bed.

With Ruby needing a moment, Jaune finally locked eyes with his blushing blue eyed girlfriend who diligently played with his cock. Time her weakness.

Weiss watched as he sat up, gaining the leverage he needed to grind his hips in earnest against the back of her throat. His left hand rubbed the side of her face slowly as he got rough.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, knowing what was in her heart. A chill ran up his spine as Weiss stuck her tongue out more. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Don’t waste a drop.”

He came directly in the mouth. Weiss felt her eyes water as she put her face comfortably in his lap, allowing him cum to coat her throat. The taste flooded her senses and clenched her thighs together as she felt her body succumb to the shameful desire. Weiss slowly removed herself from the beastly appendage and began coughing as she took her first breath or real air. Before she could even say a word, Jaune gave her a quick, chaste kiss.

“Good job.” He smiled genuinely.

It was insane how quickly he switched gears from treating her like a hole to pampering her. To make matters worse, he brought his thumb up to wipe her mouth sense she was unable to. Weiss could only avert her gaze.

“Last time I checked, you were supposed to unwrap your gifts before playing with them.” She huffed.

“Technically it’s not mine to unwrap.” He quipped. “Even if I did, in your case, I’m putting the cuffs on you.”

Weiss tried to hold a definite stare but not even she could believe her own false anger. Not when she still felt her core aching. Her eyes looked down at his lap to find his erection persisting.

“Do as you please then. Just…keep touching me a little longer.” She confessed, looking into his eyes again. “I want to feel like Ruby did.”

“Even if that means-”

“Yes.” She said immediately, embarrassing both of them. “I…prepared beforehand.”

Finally lucid, Ruby turned her body over to see her two lovers near the foot of the bed. “You two having fun without me?” She teased.

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh hey, you’re alive.”

“That’s my line. You sounded like you were drowning.”

“You were screaming bloody murder.”

“Hehe, yeah...” Ruby sunk into the bed. “I might be down for the count still.”

“Nope.” Jaune said, getting up and walking over to Ruby to loosen some of the ribbon around her legs. Before pulling her more to the center of the bed. “Show Weiss just how good you felt.”

There goes that voice again, playing tricks on Ruby’s heart. The girl blushed again as she followed the order. Slowly, her legs parted to reveal strands of her arousal clingy to her thighs over pink convulsing lips. Seeing Weiss stare directly at it was more dangerous to Ruby’s mental fortitude than she realized.

Jaune looked at Weiss. “Still want your ribbons undone?”

“I’m alright.” Weiss said softly. Her legs weren’t inhibited much to begin with, and it’s not like her hands weren’t going to immediately be taken away again. She instead focused on the young woman presented in front of her. Weiss lowered her body between Ruby’s legs and trailed her tongue right up her slit.

“Please be gentle.”

“I can try, but I like your screams.” Weiss continued lapping up the mess, feeling Ruby flinch with every tongue flick.

Jaune rested Ruby’s head back onto a pillow. “Stay right here and relax. Try not to cum too soon.”

Easier said than done! Even with slow movements, Weiss’s tongue ran down every groove and remembered to show Ruby’s clit some personal attention. The reaper’s bound hands reached for Weiss’s hair and held it firmly. She needed anything to latch onto if she was going to survive.

Jaune made his way back behind Weiss after grabbing a bit of lube “Hips.” She raised them instantly, arching her back and giving him a wonderful view. Man he loved the holidays.

Weiss could feel his tip rub against her entrance repeatedly. Not as if either of them needed more preparations. That being said, Weiss had given him free reign to make a mess out of her, and with Ruby occupied, she knew he’d take advantage of it. Weiss felt her face burn up as cool lube was applied around her ass. A thumb gently rubbed it in, circling around the entrance before pressing in.

“Nngh.” Weiss focused harder on Ruby, trying to act normal as Jaune played with her butt.

Thank goodness his present was cuffs and not a plug. Weiss was still working up the nerve to express this particular interest to Ruby. She didn’t even express it to Jaune. Damn dolt messed around and stumbled upon it! Honestly it was for the best. She doubts she would’ve come clean about it otherwise. His thumb left and was replaced with the same two fingers that brought Ruby to tears.

“Uungh!” Weiss felt her hips float.

Ruby didn’t know what Weiss was going through, but it made her damn good at her job. Her tongue finally slipped in and began eating her out in earnest. “Yes! Just like that!” She could feel herself close around the girl’s tongue.

Weiss didn’t know if she had the best job or the worst. Either way, leaving was the last thing in her mind. Her body grew more impatient as Jaune continued his teasing. She was practically dripping down his cock. She had to speak for a second.

“Jaune, please!” She begged, not caring at all how she sounded. “I want it!”

“How do you want it?” He watched her ears turn red.

“Y-You know how.” She whined, her hips moving on their own. Ruby’s hands pulled her back into her warmth while Jaune’s fingers slid out. Weiss felt her body shudder when his tip slowly pressed halfway into her pussy before leaving it neglected. A firm hand gripped her ass and spread it apart, carefully opening it up with Jaune’s slick cock. Weiss could only clench her hands together as the man finally fucked her. Weiss let her thoughts fade away, focusing on devouring Ruby as her ass was used. She could feel him take it down to the base, bottoming her out like it was made to take him. Even now, her pussy squeezed for something that wasn’t there, and she couldn’t get enough.

Jaune brought both his hands to her waist. The way her ass clung to him made it impossible to keep his cool. To think she prepared herself for this only drove him wilder. If this was the gift she wanted, he was gonna give it to her. Jaune couldn’t help himself from fucking her with deep strokes that drove him crazy.

“You two are so perfect.” He gasped, getting lost in the bliss with them.

Ruby was dire straits, trapped in her own bliss thanks to Weiss’s hungry slurping. Ruby couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of how good Weiss was at oral. Just like with Jaune, she was completely at Weiss’s mercy.

Not another word was shared between the three. Only a need to satisfy their urges and express their fulfillment through countless moans. There wasn’t a stroke that didn’t make Weiss squeal, or an instant Jaune wasn’t breathlessly trying to keep himself together. Ruby could feel her toes curling the sheets in a desperate attempt to hold on just a little longer. This moment felt too brief and yet like eternity itself. Despite her best attempt, Ruby couldn’t stave off the inevitable any longer. One more trail around her clit broke her down. Ruby’s hips lifted off the bed and pushed against Weiss’s lips, giving a good taste of her handy work as another strong orgasm hit like a crashing wave.

Ruby felt her body turn rigid as stone before becoming as feeble as puddy once her body hit the mattress. Her strength was absolutely spent. Her eyes flickered rapidly as she tried to calm herself. Jaune must’ve noticed her orgasm. She could feel Weiss’s tongue pull away and hear muffled cries of delight. Blurred figures slowly became clear again and brought new speechless clarity to Ruby’s eyes.

Weiss was in utter disarray, completely lost in pleasure. Jaune had torn away the ribbons, along the girl to reach up and lock her hands behind his neck as his arms wrapped around her body. A stern hand had once again returned to her neck while the other wrapped around her torso to keep the girl on her knees as he fucked her without restraint.

“Oh wow…” Ruby couldn’t help but blush. She could see exactly how Jaune made such a mess out of their prideful Ice Queen. She was in another world, falling endlessly into euphoria as her body writhed. Ruby watched as Jaune filled her up, his cock pulsing rope after rope until it leaked down his shaft from the overflow. “Maybe I’m the vanilla in this relationship?”

Unable to stand any longer, Weiss fell forward. Ruby found it in herself to move quickly enough to lean forward and catch the girl, slowly leaning back and allowing Weiss to lay on her. Out of breath didn’t describe the state she was in. Weiss simply wasn’t here right now. Just a woman doing her best to breathe as her eyes grew heavy before shutting altogether. Ruby glanced up to see the man responsible utterly exhausted. Their gaze finally met again and she could tell by the slow internal panic in his eyes that his wits had returned.

“Ummm.” He had absolutely nothing to say. Not really much to say to get out of this situation.

Ruby pinched two fingers together and ran them over her lips like a zipper before flicking an imaginary key away.

Jaune chuckled in relief. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure we’re on the naughty list.” Ruby raised her hands up. “Please release me.”

Jaune looked at a dangling end and tugged it, effortlessly undoing the knot before looking at Ruby in slight judgment.

“Hey, not everyone gets post-nut clarity. I’m too tired to think.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He finally allowed himself to fall onto the bed beside them.

“You didn’t have to.” Ruby followed his lead and laid back.

“Rubes, please tell me you're too tired for sex.”

“I’m too tired for everything. Don’t worry, I am beyond satisfied.” Ruby aimlessly reached at his nightstand before finally grabbing a pack of wipes. “I see why you have these in your room now.” She tossed them his way.”

“Thank you.” He groaned.

“And she had the nerve to look at me crazily for wanting to gift wrap ourselves? You two are freakier than me.”

“Hehe, so is this new information going on the list of things you want to try?”

Ruby blushed. She didn’t know if she was ready for all that. “At least let me get used to the color first.” She covered her face. “I’ve really opened Pandora’s box, haven’t I?”

“Not really. Weiss didn’t notice you watching and I’m not about to start randomly messing your butt. I’m still doing what I always do, matching the tone.”

Ruby turned to him. “Okay, but if you were the one to set it?” She watched his face slowly turn a little pink as he pondered the question.

“Well…if you ever did get a little curious, I wouldn’t mind seeing a tail with the collar one day. You know, just every now and then.”

Even the most polite people have their fantasies. Ruby couldn’t tell if she had turned these into freaks or if it was the other way around. Regardless of the answer, she was the one who wanted assertiveness and the collar. The girl sighed at her own disappointment, feeling the same bashfulness and shame her dear girlfriend displayed in the beginning.

“Give me till Valentine’s Day.”

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner���a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[headspace-hotel]

Thoughtful selective breeding is obviously part of agriculture with both plants and animals. It is the responsible thing to do to not breed animals with known genetic diseases. Is this the same thing as eugenics in humans? After all, the same thing was suggested with humans that have genetic diseases.

I say that it is not, but before discussing that, I also say that most things eugenicists were concerned with, were not completely genetically determined, or genetically determined at all. Out of the things that were actually genetically determined, it was usually because of too many different genes for selection to be possible, and out of traits that did have simplistic associations with genes, it was arbitrary and biased to judge them as "good" or bad" traits.

The eugenics movement happened before we knew what DNA was. The exact mechanisms of how heredity worked were unknown. It was not possible to link a trait to a certain gene that could be detected in a person's DNA.

Eugenicists thought entire individuals were inferior or superior to others, and thought that an "inferior" individual would produce "inferior" children. In reality, children inherit thousands of distinct genes that each may or may not be expressed based upon the impacts of other genes and environmental factors. If genes truly were either "good" or "bad," each individual would have a combination of "good" and "bad" genes. But it would be impossible to tell by looking at outward characteristics whether an individual had certain "good" or "bad" genes, because not all of the genes would be expressed.

Even worse, if you selected an elite group of individuals you thought had "good" genes and made them reproduce only within themselves, "bad" genes you didn't know about would begin expressing, due to the gene pool becoming more similar. A smaller gene pool makes it more likely to inherit two copies of the same gene. With recessive genes, they are only expressed when there are two copies, meaning that generations of individuals can have ("carry") the gene without ever showing any effects. Until suddenly, two carriers have a child and that child happens to inherit the recessive copy from both parents, and out of nowhere, the gene starts having an effect. A lot of genetic diseases are like this.

(In this way, eugenics type thinking ironically contributes to genetic diseases, by assuming that restricted gene pools of only individuals that appear "superior" will reliably create offspring expressing the same "superior" traits.)

Of course, in all except a few scenarios (a high chance of breast cancer is probably bad), genes aren't inherently good or bad at all. Let's say you decided that tall people were genetically superior, and organized a club for tall people to get together and have tall kids. If you did this for generations and generations, your descendants might be able to become consistently extremely tall, but you would probably also find that being extremely tall could have negative effects in many situations. Tallness might be genetically linked to some positive things, but it would be just as likely to be genetically linked to negative things. If the tall people club was restricted from having children with people outside the club, eventually you would likely see a high incidence of genetic diseases being expressed due to inbreeding.

Animal breeding has been going on for millennia, but the preoccupation with "pure" breeds is much newer. Inbreeding has been practiced widely in development of breeds because that is basically the only way to quickly make sure the traits you want are consistently expressed in the offspring, but since there is no such thing as a "superior" animal, it's also a good way to accidentally perpetuate "bad" traits (such as a high risk of cancer) throughout an entire gene pool.

There is also the fact that whether genes are "good" or "bad" usually depends on the situation. There has been a MASSIVE loss of genetic diversity among livestock since the beginning of industrial farming, and this has been very bad because whenever something changes about farming--whether it's a new disease popping up, effects of climate change, or improved practices--genes that are helpful in the new state of affairs are hard to find, because so much diversity has been eliminated. You just don't know what impact a gene might have in the future. Imagine some kind of new virus emerges that cattle with a certain gene are particularly susceptible to. If your herd is genetically diverse, the incidence of the gene might be small, so you might only lose one or two cows. But if your herd is genetically similar, you might be losing half of your herd. Five minutes ago, those cows were the "best" cows! Not anymore.

Imagine how much more complicated it is with humans! Even within our lifetimes, different body types have become fashionable and "ideal" and different personality traits have become favored for the workplace. And we still haven't cracked the genetic basis of body type or personality, let alone the array of environmental factors that might contribute.

Ultimately the problem of eugenics is assuming that any entity "knows better" about whether someone should pass on their genes than the person themselves. Humans have the ability to understand genetic diseases and heredity for themselves, and choose to have children or not based upon their own judgment. Furthermore, humans have the ability to communicate their needs to other humans, understand disability in themselves and others, and care for disabled members of their own species, therefore optimal quality of life is possible.

It is hard to apply the concept of personal choice to other animals, since we can't give animals education on what actions can lead to or prevent reproduction or the ability to exercise choice in whether to reproduce. The reproductive biology of many of our domesticated species is such that they have an estrus cycle where they are driven to mate during the period of time when fertilization is possible. Humans do not have an estrus cycle and can engage or not engage in sex regardless of fertility. It is not a very good comparison.

I think sometimes people think eugenics is bad but its still true, like thinking that if people with certain traits have children it will change society for better or worse based upon what traits are promoted. I think its important to emphasize that eugenics is not only wrong morally it's also fake and stupid bullshit

Like eugenics was supposed to be based on the idea that "If it works with animals to select only the best ones to breed, why wouldn't it work with humans?"

well it doesn't work with animals, that's the thing. applying the eugenics ideas to domestic breeds of animals hasn't made better animals it's just made animals with more extreme expression of certain traits. turns out that when you decide which traits are the "best" and become obsessed with the genetic purity of the animals that have the "best" traits, you might well end up with some sad suffering creature like a Pug, or the Persian cats with the smashed faces that are in constant pain because their teeth and airways and brains are getting crushed by their skulls, or those meat chickens that grow so fast they can hardly even stand up after a few weeks old, or inbred race horses with tiny feet and fragile toothpick legs

like almost all traits are neither "good" or "bad" they're way more complex than that. a long tail or a long snout or a stubborn, independent personality can be good or bad depending on the situation. Who gets to decide what is a "good" trait or a "bad" trait? It's arbitrary and selecting for traits that are "good" in your opinion will often have both "good" and "bad" outcomes because the "good" and "bad" are part of each other and not separate its just part of being alive

Obviously oversimplifying everything but you get it. we did eugenics with dogs and how did that go? not very well

[loverangels]

stolen goods

pairings: ares!reader x luke castellan

synopsis: luke is a sentimental thief. too bad you also love your belongings. and his.

warnings: not proofread! Don't really like this but I wanted to post something for you guys sooo I hope it's okay! :)

I am not a thief. Is what Luke castellan swears to himself under his breath and in his mind chorusing these words like a religious mantra.

I am not a thief. I am not a thief. I am not a thief.

But how many times could he repeat it before he believed it?

Yes he was Hermes son but only by blood and that didn't mean anything. Right.?

Good intentions. That was the only thing he reassured himself with as his nimble fingers picked another of your possessions.

A coin, a wrapper, a hair tie,- god it could be a dirty napkin and he'd take it.

It's a keepsake. A souvenir. A memoir

Something- anything to remember you by.

And it wasn't like you knew.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

You stomp around your cabin fighting the urge to rip your hair out. You had been searching your room the whole morning in an attempt to find your favourite necklace with no success. It wasnt even as though you'd only searched your room even going to the extent to sneaking into your siblings room. Again no success.

By now your hands were fisted into balls as you travelled around the whole cabin asking your siblings if they'd seen your necklace.

'Clarisse!' you exclaim with your arms crossed face frowning impatient as you waited for your sister to arrive.

Gracefully with time, after a thousand fucking years your sister had arrived her, eyebrows pulled up expectantly.

'yes?' she asked slow and tentatively.

'do you have my things ' you ask rushed and impatient

Clarisse face pulls into an angry glare offended you'd ask such a question.

'No'

You huff 'are you sure?'

'im not a thief but your boyfriend sure is go ask him' clarrise grunts before stomping away.

You fight the flutter in your heart at the thought ,'hes not my boyfriend!' you exclaim after her.

With your hands on your hips, you almost threatened to start crying.

Where was all your things going?

It couldn't possibly be luk-

Could it?

You bite your lip as you mull the thought before brushing the thought away. It couldn't be him-

You'd try anyways. You were desperate.

Leaving the cabin you search around camp for a while before being tipped that Luke was training. Finding him with his sword- training with that awfully beaten up dummy you paused for a moment.

God he was so fucking pretty done.

You watch as his biceps clenched as he swung his sword and the way his shirt lifted up slightly- yes enough to get that delicious view of them gorgeous-

You snap yourself out of whatever kind of daze that was, and call his name out watching how he stops immediately and turns around almost like a dog with his ears perked, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

Stupid beautiful boy.

He drops his sword as you make your way to him, his hands instantly on your hips pulling you flushed up against him as he looks down at you, tucking a strand behind your hair.

'yes sweetheart?' he asks. His voice so so soo sweet.

You mentally curse yourself as you stay at a lost for words before finally regaining your state of mind.

'do you know where my things are?' you ask abruptly watching his face with your makeshift eyes.

He leans his head onto your shoulder trailing his lips until they hover over your ear.

'and why would you think that hm?' he asks smirking to himself.

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow 'because nearly half of my things are missing and now that I think about it they always seem to disappear after we're together'

'smart girl' he hums pulling his face back from your ear as he grins down at you, his thumbs tracing mindless patterns on your hips.

'im waiting for them back castellan' you state firmly, trying to prevent the smile threatening to overcome your face.

His grin drops as he groans throwing his head back 'oh come on! Let a man have at least something of his girl'

'something- yes. not half of my possesions' you tease.

Luke raises an eyebrow 'you're saying that in my shirt.' he deadpans before his eyes flickering down.

'and- hey wait aren't those my sweatpants?' he asks 'i was looking everywhere for those!' he exclaims

You give him a sheepish smile 'maybe you can have some of my things'

He shakes his head pressing a tender kiss to your temple before mumbling 'good, I wasn't planning on giving them back anyways'

'luke!'

[bekolxeram]

Unfortunately, I don't have the means to donate this time, (Stupid expensive health issues🙄) but I'd still like to express my gratitude to Bucktommy and this fandom for the occasion.

Not that my life has ever been sunshine and rainbows, but 2024 has been particularly difficult for me. I started the year the sickest I've been for years, then one of my uncles passed away in February. He was 88. He had been slowly succumbing to dementia for quite some time, so almost everyone agreed a cardiac arrest was a blessing in disguise.

I wasn't close with him, but my mother was, and naturally, I had to spend pretty much the entire March accompanying her to all sorts of traditional ceremonies for the dead. All my uncle's children, my cousins, came back from abroad as well. They enjoyed hanging out with me back when I was a toddler, but then I slowly grew up into this weird, moody kid of few words, and we kind of drifted apart from there.

Family reunions were never awkward despite my gloomy existence though, they had their fun aunt who never ran out of things to talk about. To them, my mother's the life of the party and an exemplary woman, who went through tragedies in life but still manages to come out stronger on the other side, who unfortunately had to re-enter the workforce later in life to support her physically ill husband and her mentally ill teenage daughter.

What they don't know, is that while she's a fun aunt, she's not a fun mother. She was dealing with the stress and frustration so well because she always had an outlet at home. Someone she had total ownership over, officialized by a piece of birth certificate. Someone she could do whatever she'd like to, emotionally and physically, because in my culture, it's simply an alternative, maybe outdated method of parenting, not a crime.

I've had time to process my messy relationship with my mother, I've come to (mostly) accept it for what it is. Watching my cousins all rushing over to my mother with open arms to console her, watching my cousins' children playing around, having fun with her, while my existence was barely acknowledged, was actually more triggering than I expected. It acted as a sobering reminding that not only do I have merely a handful of friends since I left church, I in fact don't have any family left either. They're all my mother's family, not mine.

It was probably the most lonely and isolating experience in my life. It's like I was trapped inside of my head, my head that was gradually turning into a bottomless pit of nothingness.

Then Tommy Kinard drove through cross town traffic just to clear the air in person. He expressed how much he wanted to be a part of a family. Then he took his shot and got the boy in the end.

I just felt... understood. Watching Bucktommy's story play out on screen gave me some rare moments of joy and much needed hope. I felt like if Tommy could find happiness later in life, maybe it wasn't too late for me either.

If you've had experience with depression, you'd know how sometimes getting out of bed, brushing your teeth feels like an uphill battle already. Motivation is precious and hard to come by. I was so motivated creatively by Bucktommy and people in the fandom who resonated with the story just like me, that I wrote series of posts analyzing every scene in S7, I learned how to make gifs to illustrate the humor I found in all of us, I figured out how to edit video especially for my vision of a Brad-nado, I even wrote and posted my first fanfic ever.

And I just love how we refuse to give up hope, even after the breakup. We cried, we whined, then we doubled our effort writing fix-it fics, continuing their story on our own terms. Now, we even manage to raise thousands of dollars for charities in 24 hours in the name of love.

Sorry for the wall of text all about myself, I hope I don't come across as a self-absorbed jerk. I always thought I would never make it to 30, it started feeling like a real possibility in March. What happened instead was that my 30th birthday came and go because I was too busy screaming about Buck batting his eyelashes at Tommy when he was receiving a medal.

I'm sitting here, typing this out, looking back at my 2024 at the end of the year, only because Bucktommy happened and I had the pleasure to cross path with you all. I know, it's stupid, it's just a TV show, but I can't really imagine how my life would turn out if I never had Bucktommy, where I would be right, or even if I would still be at all.

So, thank you, for making life worth living for me again.

[adult-kinda]

My Baby Alone

Warnings: mentions of death, hospitalization, comas, and disordered eating, chat this one’s angsty with a happy ending

In which Sunoo can’t leave yet…

300 days. For the past 300 days you had been visiting him. Every single day you made time to set aside your anxiety, enter that sterile building, and sit with him. You knew he wouldn’t respond. Everything in you said to let him go. The guys told you there was no hope and disbandment was in the works.

But you couldn’t. You weren’t going to give up so easily. Even if it was the tiniest voice in your soul begging you to stay.

“You would have loved to see the fans get well soon trucks today! They used your Not For Sale photos this time.” You said with a smile.

You knew he would be disappointed in you. You had lost a lot of weight and the sparkle in your eyes was gone. He would never have allowed this.

“Oh! And your photo cards are reselling for big prices too! Like thousands of dollars. The other members would be jealous.” You explained.

Once again nothing. Just the quiet beep from machinery.

“I’ve been putting in more hours. The company put out a statement announcing our relationship. I knew it’s what you would’ve wanted by now. So far not as much hate, but I try to distract myself. I’m working overtime most evenings.” You say referring to your job at the animal shelter.

The nurse stepped in the room and sighed.

“Y/N, darling, should we consider-“Don’t! Don’t even think about it.” You interrupted.

The nurse nodded and glanced at the body in the bed. Typically she wouldn’t push but it was nearing a year now. It was time.

“I know you don’t want to think about this, but it’s time. He’s not progressing.” She said.

You refused to answer her and waited for her to leave. Once she was finally gone and the door was shut you broke down. You had done so well with not crying while you were here but the possibility of losing him, it was too much.

“Why! Why would you leave me? You can’t do that!” You shouted.

Your pleas fell into the abyss of the fluorescent lights. But they weren’t unheard.

Sunoo heard you. He desperately wanted to get to you, to respond. But he was locked in and could not make his way out. He was banging on doors through an endless hallway praying someone would open.

“I thought you loved me!” You cried.

I do, princess! I do!

“Why do you insist on leaving?”

I’m trying to come back! I’m gonna find you!

“I love you so much!”

I love you too! Hold on just a little more!

When he was met with silence he assumed you’d left. But then you entered one more time. This time two other voices were with you as well as more on a mobile device.

“It’s time to let him go.” You said sorrowfully.

No! No! No!

“Are you sure? We can give you more time to say goodbye.” A male voice said.

“It’s alright, father. I think this is what he would have wanted.” A digital voice confirmed.

No! No this is not at all what I want!

Finally. After all these days of running and searching a door opened. Sunoo was running through that door and toward an image. An image of you holding his hand.

“I love you so much.”

I love you too! I’m almost there!

Pressure. Before the doctor could proceed with anything you felt pressure.

“Stop!” You shouted.

Everyone paused. You had felt phantom touches before but this, this was certainly different.

“Miss Y/N-“No! He’s here! He squeezed my hand!”

The doctor sighed. “Y/N we’ve been over this. It could be in your he-“No! Look! Grab his other hand.”

The doctor humored you and grabbed his other hand.

“Sunoo! If you can hear me squeeze your left hand!”

To the doctor’s surprise he squeezed. Hard. That was unmistakable.

“Oh my word.” He muttered.

You smiled with tears of joy streaming down.

“We’ll be there in the next hour.” Jungwon said over the phone before cutting the line.

I’m almost there, baby!

Just as Sunoo was going to step into the image he felt a tug on his arm. It was an… angel? It was so human but had wings… it was him. Sunoo was faced with a reflection of himself in the purest of whites with majestic wings.

“Come with me, it’s time. You have so many people waiting to meet you up here! And there’s kpop idols too that you would get along with.” The reflection said.

Sunoo looked at him intrigued, but you were down there.

“Come, Sunoo. You have family on the other side. Moonbin is on the other side. Jonghyun is on the other side. Your pets are on the other side. Heaven is waiting on the other side.” He said trying his hardest to convince him.

Sunoo missed these things. He had always wished he could go back and experience these people, these memories one last time.

But you were not on the other side.

“No. I’m not leaving my baby.” He said before stepping into the image.

“Doc we have signs of brain activity!” The nurse exclaimed.

Everything went so fast. Nurses were working to make sure everything was prepped. The doctor halted all end of life protocols. The priest stood outside to pray over the room. You… well you sat patiently waiting for your boy to come back to you.

Apparently you were very patient because you remained there the entire night. The rest of the Enhypen members waited outside in the waiting area, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Good morning, Sunoo.” You greeted groggily.

You smiled when you felt a squeeze in your hand.

“I probably look a mess right now. I’m glad that you’re coming back. I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

Another three squeezes.

“Have you been missing me? I think about you seven days a week. I’ve never given up on you.”

You nodded in response to his pressure again.

“I’m excited to take care of you! You’ll stay in my apartment while you finish healing. I’ll make you all your favorite soups, hell I’ll even stock up on mint chocolate chip ice cream! I’ve been eating it since you’ve been gone, it reminds me of you.” You said with a giggle.

“I’ll be diligent. I’ll make sure you take all your medications and eat all your meals. I’ll do it all because I love you, Sunoo. I just need you to wake up for me.”

You ended your plea with a kiss on his lips. But this one was different. This time you could feel him kissing… back? There was no way! You pulled away in shock.

“My love.” Sunoo mumbled as his eyes slowly opened.

You gasped as you watched him come back to you. His eyes were opened, his voice was hoarse after not using it for so long. But none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was that he was alive.

“Sunoo!” You cried.

Sunoo saw you and gave his signature smile (albeit a little tired). “Hello my love.”

Your embrace was warm. Sunoo could get used to this again. You were so warm and loving, he knew he couldn’t afford for anyone else to hold you.

“You’re alive! You’re here and… oh Sunoo!” You sobbed into his chest.

Sunoo smiled and held you just as tightly. He had found you and was not going to let go.

He’d take your embrace over the wandering, the running through the hallway. And in the same breath he would do it all again if it meant he could spend lifetimes with you.

Heaven can wait.

[iatrophilosophos]

I hate to burst ur bubble bc this does sound like a very cool life!!! but that is not unthinkably far my friend. The appalachian trail is over 2,000 miles and ppl regularly make it on foot in abt 5 months. Now, most ppl who hike the appalachain trail are not coming up with food on the journey; so i assume a prehistoric trip is gonna take longer, and/but/also i feel like it is entirely feasible to spend, say, ur early 20s wandering around, hanging out with different people and living different places, and cover that much distance in a few years without even really feeling like you made an exceptional journey (at least just on the walking front) cuz like...I can't fully back this up but I'd be shocked if prehistoric hunter gatherers weren't walking hundreds of miles a year even w/o traveling great distances; just in the course of Living Life.

Lots of modern people live traveling long distances and hopping from place to place and while we're never gonna know exactly why someone did what they did thousands of years ago, I tend to think the reasons stay pretty similar. I remember reading a while ago abt how it's actually been really common in tons of cultures across time--including lots and lots of places without aided transport--for young adults to leave their families, locations, & even local culture of origin to go do Something Else with their lives... I'm sure this person was not the Only person to make a journey like this in her time and she probably heard stories from others and decided she wanted to try it out. Some people are Road People, today, back then, and every time and place in between.

Edit: i also think its unlikely that, like someone in the notes is suggesting, her family/home of origin Never Heard From Her Again. This happens all the time and is definitely possible but, even without phones or organized information sharing networks, even with modern population sizes! you might be surprised abt how easy it can be to get news abt a loved one/ex/enemy/etc you ain't seen in years from a traveler who happened upon both them and you. Its a small world, after all, and I think its more fun and lovely to remember that humanity has always been capable of navigating it.

I often think about the remains of a Neolithic woman found at a Prehistoric site in Scotland who was isotope tested and found to have been born in southern England and lived there for a significant portion of her life before relocating to northern Scotland. Her life predated the introduction of horses to Britain so she would have had to walk 700+ miles during her life to get to the place she was ultimately buried. What motivated her to do that? What drove her from her home and to a colder and harsher climate? Was it conflict? Was it wanderlust? Was it love? I can’t remember the name of the site but I think I remember other nearby remains in the group tomb had been tested and found to have been lifelong locals so she was probably an outlier in her new community.

[moregraceful]

made it one (1) cookie into christmas day cookie baking without a standmixer before i went this cannot stand, and now i have had my finger on the launch button of my shopping cart on the kitchenaid website for 45 minutes. an interesting thing about me is i will buy a customized jersey for $250+ without thinking twice, but then i look at a kitchenaid stand mixer and i'm like no i couldn't POSSIBLY...it is EXTRAVAGANT... even though a stand mixer will easily get more use on a consistent basis than um. z.ach h.yman leafs jersey. &tc

livejournal posting on the microblogging website

having a very nice christmas so far. i am spending it alone and earlier this week i spent about 10 minutes feeling sorry for myself about it, and then said WHAT the fuck am i doing. to wake up on christmas morning and not want to kill myself is going to be the greatest gift. and made a plan to make cookies and a sheet pan dinner that my family hates but that i love. and you know what, i did not wake up and feel like ending it all, and even though i am having immense cookie struggles, i feel better than i have in years. i like building traditions. it's fun.

talked to my sister and her husband this morning and while i always feel better about everything after talking to them, today was especially nice because her husband got on the phone whipped the fuck about their neighbor's kid or kids hiding musical instruments on their property. he was like you've worked extensively with teenagers, PLEASE explain why a teenager would do something this bizarre. and it's nice when i can be of help to them these days bc they spent so much of winter and spring trying to convince me not to gaslight myself into thinking any of it was normal or survivable. it's nice to be like, ok now i am in a safe space so i can offer my infinite wisdom. also very funny to be the teenager whisperer of the family. the three of us worked through the issue and landed on a solution that didn't involve my sister's husband narcing on the kid to their very strict and religious parents about instrument-playing lol. and that made me feel good bc we are several thousand miles away from each other but we're still very present in each other's lives.

i don't know it's being christian or if it's just spending a lot of years way too drunk on new year's eve to hashtag cope and waking up on jan 1 hungover as hell like goddammit not this shit (being alive) again. but this year christmas day feels like more of the start of a new year. i think about goal-setting and trying new things to inhabit my life more vividly and today feels like more of a place to start. like the light is here and i am too etc. this is a long-winded way saying that my 2025 goal is to take more pictures bc while i do love to live in the moment, i DON'T love that i have next to no pictures of the people i love or the things that i have enjoyed seeing or the creations i have made. not to be a Instagram Poster, but it's like i would love to remember what my internet friends' faces look like. or that cool rock i saw in someone's yard... i don't have to always live in the moment about rocks and friends it's ok to be like, i am enjoying this moment and i want simple proof that it existed beyond my memory.

and i have just tried both cookies i made and they are both very strange experiences that did not really spark joy so i am going to stare intently at the kitchenaid site for another hour

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 1

Propaganda under the cut:

Klaus/Elijah:

Immortal vampire brothers who have spent a thousand years hurting and loving one another. An elder brother who carries the guilt of not protecting his little brother from the horrors of their childhood and a bastard-child younger brother who considers himself both outcast and judge, jury, and executioner to his siblings’ wrongdoings. Their immortal vow to stand as one, always and forever, has led to a millennium of talking past one another, taking away each other’s loved ones, and, of course plotting the downfall of their enemies together. When faced with death, neither can bear to go alone, and vow instead to die in each other’s arms. Which they do.

They have lived every life possible and yet they can’t escape each other. They have canonically been in love with the same woman at least twice. Elijah falls in love with the woman who Klaus HAD A BABY WITH. Normal brother behavior!!! Klaus begged Elijah to run away with him when they were kids and Elijah is still haunted 1000 years later by the fact that he refused. Elijah once came up with a whole-ass plot to murder Klaus but at the last second couldn’t bring himself to do it and betrayed everybody he allied with to save Klaus instead. They just can’t quit each other!!! And when Klaus is suffering some magical bullshit and has to die, Elijah’s like “yeah I’ll die with you, my life is meaningless without you.” Brothers of all time!

Part of Klaus hates Elijah because he will never be him and his siblings will never love him and respect him the same way (I'm saying siblings, but I really mean Rebekah) but he would also die for him in a heartbeat. He would never admit it but he's living for the attention that Elijah gives him, no matter what kind. He would probably be happy in a polycule with him and his sister if he wasn't chronically paranoid that they actually hate him and want to get rid of him. By which point he punishes them by putting them in a magic coma for a few centuries and bringing their bodies with him everywhere he goes.

https://www.tumblr.com/icebluecyanide/170419680277/dont-speak-to-me-of-elijah-he-loves-you-yes-he

“I need you, brother. The monster in me can only be checked by the monster in you.”

Rick/Morty:

Grandpa/grandson interdimensional soulmates. Literally canonically Rick genetically engineered Morty to be his perfect companion and replacement wife.

Morty canonically desperate for the approval of his grandpa, ignoring his faults and the toxic dynamics as long as he gets to feel like the ‘favorite’? While also being horny? Morty and Rick even have a magical threesome at some point which they seem so blaze about it feels like them fucking on an adventure has happened before.

theyre pretty much canon. they got married. give grandpa a kiss

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Reconnect | Connor Bedard

wc. 2.5k

You and Connor have a falling out after he gets drafted that neither of you seem to understand until fate brings you back together again.

Italics = flashback

Sometimes you wonder if moving to another country and almost two thousand miles away from everyone and everything you know and love was the right idea. 

Granted, the most important person in your life left first so how could anyone blame you? 

At the young age of 18, Connor Bedard had been drafted first overall to the Chicago Blackhawks, a dream that had been a long time coming. When you heard the news you couldn’t help but think about all the times the two of you had talked about the NHL draft. 

“Do you think the Canucks will draft you?” You ask, your head hanging off of Connor’s bed to look at him upside down. 

“That’s not how that works, bear,” Connor responds and you roll your eyes at the childhood nickname. 

Your eyes trace over Connor’s features and you find yourself frowning at the boy. His smile hadn’t reached his eyes and he looks away from you quickly. 

“Bedsy?” You ask quietly and when he looks back at you his expression is hard to read. 

“What if I don’t get drafted at all?” 

You tilt your head at him but when his expression remains the same, you’re quick to get up from his bed and kneel down in front of him. You place both hands on his knees, forcing him to look at you. 

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be number one to me,” you tell him sincerely and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “Besides, they’ve been scouting you since you were in pee wee. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

You thought you would have been there when Connor got drafted. You thought you would be able to cheer him on and hug him afterwards. Finally tell him that you told him so. 

You never thought the news would reach you as you unpacked your first apartment in Minneapolis and one of your high school friends called you to tell you. 

Your contact with Connor after that had essentially been non-existent. You texted him a congrats and he responded with a short text and that was it. 14 years gone in what felt like minutes. 

And for the life of you you still couldn’t figure out why. 

A few months before the draft, Connor had started to distance himself. You knew he was busy with practices and games, the stress of the upcoming draft making it harder on him. You tried to be there for him as much as possible but he didn’t want you. 

“(y/n)?” you feel someone shaking your shoulder lightly and your eyes flutter open to meet Connor’s dark ones. 

You look around for a moment, forgetting that you had come over to Connor’s house to hangout with him after his game. Connor looks like he just got home, jacket still wrapped tight around him and the tint of pink still staining his cheeks from the cold. 

“What time is it?” you ask groggily as you sit up and rub at your eyes. 

“Almost midnight,” he tells you and your mouth forms into an awkward o at the answer. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Connor murmurs quietly, taking a seat with a heavy thud onto the couch next to you. 

“What?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right since you’re still waking up. 

“You shouldn't be here. I didn’t ask you to come here,” he says more firmly this time. 

“I just-” you start, his words stinging but he doesn’t let you explain. 

“I didn’t ask you here and I don’t want you here okay? What are you gonna do? Follow me to the NHL?” 

Each word feels like a knife to your chest and you’re genuinely stunned at them. Your mouth opens and closes, floundering like your heart was, trying to come up with something to say to your best friend. 

“Just go,” he says at last. “Go.” 

For weeks afterwards you grappled with the loss of your best friend. You barely left your bed for weeks. Your family and friends had to drag you out of the house and force you to keep living. For a while you didn’t quite understand why it hurt so fucking badly. 

At last when you found out that the Hawks had the first pick in the draft and every news outlet, sports analyst, and casual fan declared Connor as their pick you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted out of Vancouver and certainly out of any vicinity that Connor might come near. Even though you knew Connor was headed to the states for hockey, you couldn’t help but need a fresh start away from Canada and all the memories that your home country came with. 

You looked and applied for multiple colleges throughout America and for whatever reason when you saw an acceptance letter from the University of Minnesota, you found yourself accepting. It was in a different country and far enough away from both Canada and Chicago that you could start new and try to forget about Connor. 

Besides, Connor would only be in the same city as you a couple of times a year. The occasional game against the Wild wasn’t going to stop you from this opportunity. 

You settled into Minnesotan life quickly, enjoying the weather since it was so similar to home and your college classes had been going well. You made friends with ease and as much as they tried, you wouldn’t be going to a Wild game any time soon. 

Connor had been in an ongoing bad mood since the night of the draft. 

Nothing in his life felt right if you weren't there beside him for it all. He smiled for the media, explained what an amazing opportunity this was for him, and tried to bond with his teammates but there always seemed to be a storm cloud following the young centerman. Thankfully most people chalked it up to a tough rookie year for him but he knew it had to do with you. 

You were his good luck charm. His best friend. The girl he had been in love with since god knows how long. He pushed you away before the draft because he was scared of losing you. Or worse, scared you wouldn't want him the way he wanted you. 

Even if you did, he didn’t know what the NHL life would be like. He didn’t want to throw you into the spotlight with him and drive the two of you apart because of a dream he had been chasing his whole life. He knew himself. He would have given it all up for you. You were his first and only dream after all is said and done anyway. 

He had heard from a friend of a friend or something along those lines that you had decided to go to school at the University of Minnesota, a full ride scholarship being your main reason for going but Connor knew you better than you knew yourself. You wanted out of Canada and away from the memories. Connor had been doing a decent job of forgetting the memories too, until he had to play against the Wild. 

You don’t know how your new friends had managed to convince you to go see the Wild game. You had planned to stay far away from the Xcel center for the entire time you would be in the state of Minnesota but you hated the way your friends were begging you to go just this once. You broke down and said yes and besides, how could you turn down free tickets to a hockey game? 

Your friend let you borrow a jersey and the four of you headed out to the arena. The minute you walked through the stadium doors you were hit with a sense of longing and nostalgia. You missed the days you and Connor would spend watching hockey together, bundled up for the cold rinks to watch high schoolers play whenever Connor wasn’t and living your best life when you got to watch the occasional professional game. 

The two of you always imagined a future where he would be the professional on the ice and you were in the stands cheering him on as you always had. Your best friend for life. 

“(y/n)?” you hear your friend call and you fail to notice how the whole group paused to look at you with worried expressions. 

“Sorry,” you apologize before joining them again and forcing yourself back to the present. 

The seats were close to the ice, a row back from the glass seats and you wanted to question how your friend got such great tickets but decided to let it slide. When you got there you dropped your items on the seat before turning to see the players warming up. 

For whatever reason, Connor had been jittery since entering the state of Minnesota. He couldn’t quite place why but he knew from the moment he crossed state lines he had been shaking ever since. The game tonight was against the Wild, them having a better season than the Hawks by far with a second place spot in the central division to prove it. However, that wasn’t the reason Connor was nervous. 

The minute he stepped out onto the ice nothing else mattered anymore. He felt his mind rush quiet, the crowd fading, the worries slip off his skin like water in a rainfall. It was him, the ice, and the sport he loved. However, just as he completes his first lap of warmups he sees you. 

You turn, your eyes scanning over the players, your friends deep in conversation about something when you see him. He’s gliding along the ice with ease like he’s done a million times, like you’ve seen him do a million times and your heart has effectively ceased its actions in your chest. Why didn’t you check to see who the Wild were playing? 

It suddenly all made perfect sense as to why Connor couldn’t seem to breathe properly when he crossed into Minnesota. His heart knew that you were here. You were so close yet so far away from him and his body couldn't take it. 

The world turns to slow motion as you and Connor make eye contact and you watch with bated breath as he skates over to your spot by the glass. His eyes search yours, the world fading away around the two of you. His gloved hand reaches up, tapping the glass twice before drawing half a heart, a pregame tradition that dated back to when you were just kids. 

As if your body couldn’t help it, you reached up, tapping the glass with your finger twice as well before drawing the other half of the heart. His hand comes up to rest on the glass and yours mirrors it, the two of you focusing on the movements instead of each other. Your hand clenches till it’s in a fist, bumping the glass before one last touch with your pointer finger that Connor mirrors on the other side. 

When you finally get the courage to look up at him again, you see a hurt resting in his eyes that never seemed to be there before. His head dips as he skates away and you don’t move for several long moments after that. 

“(y/n)?” your friend calls for the second time that night. 

“I uh,” you stutter out, meeting her gaze. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” 

With that you tear up the stairs, taking the steps as quickly as you can, all but sprinting out of the arena. When you finally crash through the exit doors and the freezing Minnesota temperatures wash over you is when your emotions catch up as well. 

Connor was your best friend. He was also your first love. Something you never let yourself dwell on much until this very moment. When you thought it was all said and done, but here he was. You had to face the music now. You lost your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop months ago and now you had to deal with the fall out; for real this time. 

You catch an uber back to your apartment, the quiet of the building greeting you like an old friend. You spent the whole drive back thinking about Connor, wondering what he was thinking and feeling. Wondering if there was some way, somehow, some time the two of you would be able to find your way back to one another. You pad around your apartment for what feels like hours just thinking about everything that has happened. 

Connor knew the minute you had completed the pregame handshake ritual, he hadn’t totally lost you. He knew you had come back to him even though there was still so much to do. So much to talk about and explain between the two of you. He knew though that he had time. He was certain of it now more than ever. 

He managed to find out where your apartment was through your sibling and several phone calls. He headed there right after the game, his mind hadn’t left you ever since he saw you again. 

You’re snapped out of your looping series of thoughts by your phone ringing. You don’t recognize the number but still swipe to answer it anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“It’s me,” Connor murmurs on the other end of the line. 

“Bedsy?” you ask, the childhood nickname slipping off your lips. 

“Can you please buzz me in?” he asks and your jaw drops open in shock. 

“What?” you ask unsure if you really heard him correctly. Was he seriously here? At your apartment? 

“Can you please buzz me in?” he asks, a little more edge to his tone than before. “It’s cold out here.” 

Without a second thought you cross the room to your front door and buzz Connor in. You wait by the door and yet his sharp knock still causes you to jump when you hear it. You swing the door open and before you know it, Connor is pulling you in close. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist, his face pushed into your neck, his words muffled in your hair. You’re shocked not only by his presence but the fact that he was holding you like you might disappear in his arms out of nowhere if he isn’t careful. 

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer than before. 

“Bedsy?” you call his name quietly and he pulls back to look at you, really look at you with those blue eyes that seemed to read you like a book. 

“Can I stay?” He whispers the question and you’re hit with an image of young Connor, nervous and worried and scared. Your best friend. The one you’ve missed so dearly. The one that you hoped you could be more than just best friends with one day. 

“Come on,” you tell him, tugging him further into your apartment with the intent of bringing your two souls back together again. 

[illiterate-words]

[ID: text of a poem:

I don’t want to be a spice store.

I don’t want to carry handcrafted Marseille soap,

or tsampa and yak butter,

or nine thousand varieties of wine.

Half the shops here don’t open till noon

and even the bookstore’s brined in charm.

I want to be the one store that’s open all night

and has nothing but necessities.

Something to get a fire going

and something to put one out.

A place where things stay frozen

and a place where they are sweet.

I want to hold within myself the possibility

of plugging one’s ears and easing one’s eyes;

superglue for ruptures that are,

one would have thought, irreparable,

a whole bevy of non-toxic solutions

for everyday disasters. I want to wait

brightly lit and with the patience

I never had as a child

for my father to find me open

on Christmas morning in his last-ditch, lone-wolf drive

for gifts. “Light of the World” penlight,

bobblehead compass, fuzzy dice.

I want to hum just a little with my own emptiness

at 4 a.m. To have little bells above my door.

To have a door.

End ID]

i don’t want to be a spice store by Christian Wiman

[goldiipond]

big shoutout to girls that know everything

[penwrythe]

Learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable is important. I'm genuinely not okay when I hear, see, and research more about the genocide happening in Gaza, the history of Israel's founding, and its terroristic actions. It is important for me to know.

Taking short breaks (usually a couple of hours or so) does help when things get too much. Then, I return and continue engaging with reblogs on Palestine.

I really don't know what else to say, but this genocide must end. All genocides must end and must never happen again. Keep talking about Palestine, Armenia, Congo, and Sudan! Keep protesting! Keep fighting!

What is important now is to be as loud as you can be! Raise ruckus! Make your voice unavoidable! Be as annoying as possible! Do not let your representatives ignore this!