#if you disagree youre just wrong actually

[rjthirsty]

Naw, bud, I gotta disagree. No one is owed anything, and someone ignoring you is not childish, it's them not spending any more time on you. They do not owe you a conversation about why they don't like you. They do not owe you their time and energy to right whatever wrong they perceived from you. They are allowed to move on without a second thought and that's actually the more fucking adult thing than to make time for you to explain yourself and maybe convince them your not a bad guy or maybe just show your whole ass and now they've been burned by you twice. How is that even fair?

Fuck you for thinking your feelings or comfort is more important than someone else's.

Let people fucking live and stop forcing yourself into their lives by claiming they're a child when clearly YOU are the unreasonable one.

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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[vodika-vibes]

Hey, Vod'ika!! I'm in an Echo mood lately.

What about a fic where the reader has been with the batch since before the Empire and the reader and Echo got together round about the time of Order 66. The reader decides to join Rex's rebellion which Echo doesn't mind in fact he loves seeing you everyday. But after taking down Tantiss, Echo notices how you talk to the batch and how you just seem to fit in well on Pabu, so Echo gets an overbearing feeling that he's holding you back from an ordinary life so you have to reassure him that your home is wherever he is. ❤

Wouldn't Change A Thing

Summary: You’re always happy to get to visit your boys, and spending a week on Pabu is always a treat, but when you return to the fight with Echo after this most recent visit, he’s quieter and more withdrawn. And you’re worried.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1117

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic is soft, though I'm setting it in a perfect TBB AU where Tech is still alive. Because I'm a writer and I'm allowed to delude myself like that. (Though, he's actually not mentioned in this story). Anyway, I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stretch your arms over your head with a groan as you step out of the fresher and into the suite you share with Echo. As much as you love visiting Pabu, and seeing your boys, sometimes you feel like you need a vacation to recover from your vacation.

Honestly, Hunter can be so exhausting sometimes. And that’s even with him mellowing out since Omega came into his life.

You’re so glad you’re not their handler anymore.

You stretch a little more and grimace when the sunburn on your shoulders pulls uncomfortably. It’s fine, you’ll have Echo put aloe on your back before bed.

Speaking of said man—

Your gaze sweeps across the room. He’s not sitting on the couch, and the bedroom door is propped open, so you can see that he’s not in there either. Then you hear the familiar sound of dishes clinking together, so you turn and poke your head into the kitchen.

Echo’s back is to you, but you’d be surprised if he didn’t know that you were there. For a moment, you watch the muscles ripple across his back, and a tiny smile lifts your lips as you lean your head against the door frame.

Maker, you love him so much.

Echo pauses, and turns his head slightly, “You’re staring.”

“Mm, yeah,” You say through an adoring sigh.

He rolls his eyes and flings a damp washcloth at you. It smacks your chest and falls into your hand, “I’m hardly worth staring at.”

“Agree to disagree, my darling~”

“Cyare.”

“My beloved.” You continue with a grin as you cross the room to stand next to him, “My only. My—” Your words become muffled when he presses his hand over your mouth.

“Hush, you.”

There’s color high on his cheeks, and you giggle in delight. Something softens on his face at the sound of your giggle and he moves his hand from your mouth just enough that he’s able to caress your jaw. 

“You’ve got a sunburn,” Echo notes as he lightly brushes his scomp across the burn on the back of your neck and upper shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’ll need you to help me with some aloe later,” You reply absently as you rub your cheek against the palm of his hand, “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, the love of my life wants me to massage lotion into her skin. Whatever shall I do?” He counters, deadpan.

“How is it that you become more sarcastic after spending time with the boys?” You marvel.

“It’s a defense mechanism for having to deal with little brothers.”

You laugh and reach up to cup his face, “Well, I like it when you’re sarcastic.”

“Only because it means that you can be sarcastic right back at me,” He teases with a tiny smile, though the smile fades as he scans your face.

“Echo? What’s wrong?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.

“You looked pretty happy on Pabu.” He murmurs.

“I mean, sure. Who’s not going to be happy to be able to lie on a beach with a fruity drink?”

“You seem to fit in well there,” Echo continues, “And the others were so happy to see you. And you were happy to see them.”

“Honestly, I’m not convinced that they’re able to survive without me,” You whisper up to him like you’re sharing a secret. “I think Crosshair lost weight, can you believe that!?”

“Cyare,” The affectionate pet name is murmured through a sigh, and you drop your hands from his cheeks, so you’re able to wrap your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong, Echo? Talk to me.”

“I love that you’re here. I love waking up and seeing you every day.” Echo says slowly, “But, cyare, if you’d be happier on Pabu. I can take you back. You don’t have to stay here.”

You blink at him, struck mute by his words.

Slowly your arms drop from around his neck and you take half a step back, you can’t think when you’re wrapped around him like that. “Echo,” You speak slowly, “Do you want me to leave?”

Echo draws you back into his arms. Unlike you, he thinks more clearly when you’re in his arms. “Never. I want you here, in my arms, all of the time.” He presses his nose into your hair, his voice soft right by your ear, “But if you’re not happy here, then I’ll let you go in a heartbeat.”

Well, that’s what it is to love someone, isn’t it? If you love them, really and truly love them, you’ll want them happy. Even if it means that they’re not with you.

A soft sigh falls from your lips and you turn your head slightly so you’re able to kiss the side of his head, “Have I ever implied that I’m not happy here?” You ask.

“No, but I know you. You’d downplay a fatal injury if you worried it was going to be an inconvenience.” Echo replies.

You wrap your arms tightly around him again, “Then allow me to be blunt,” You trail light fingers across his skin, tracing the scars that show you that your love is a survivor, “Yes, I like Pabu. And yes, I like seeing my boys.”

He tenses slightly, his arms tightening.

“But, Echo, I am happier on Pabu when you are there. And I am happier spending time with the boys when you are with me.” He pulls back slightly, so he’s able to look you in the eye, and you continue with a small smile, “My place, Echo, is wherever you are. Be it here, or Pabu, or a moisture farm on Tatooine.”

“Cyar’ika—”

“And I wouldn’t change a single thing.” You pause, “Well, maybe I’d change the whole rise of the Empire thing, but that’s the only thing I’d change!” You inch closer to him so that you’re pressed flush against his body, “I love you, Echo. And I will stay here, with you, until you get tired of me.”

“It’ll never happen.” Echo replies as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure? I can be really annoying.”

“The most aggravating woman I’ve ever met,” Echo agrees, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, “But I wouldn’t change you for all of the credits in the galaxy.”

“Good.”

Any further conversation is unnecessary, as Echo’s lips catch yours in a deep kiss and he starts walking you back towards the bedroom. “I should get the aloe,” He murmurs against your lips, “Something something good boyfriend.”

“You just want to be a pervert,” You accuse.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” He laughs against your jaw, as he kicks the bedroom door shut.

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[bcacstuff]

Sam's a row behind. He's clearly standing like a step higher than her. If Sam and Ashley were in the same row sitting side by side....it would NOT explain that towering position of Sam.

Listen Anon, I don't mind if people disagree with me or to admit when I'm wrong when I am actually wrong. But when it is right in front of your nose and your going just by one thing (in this case him 'towering over her') and deny all the other things, then you're at the wrong address.

Please, take another look at the videos: At the beginning of the first video you see him stand up, and see how next to him someone (Ashley as we know now) stands up as well. That is exactly the part I showed you in the other (second) clip.

clip from video 1

clip from video 2

There is a railing in front of them with a drink on it, there's a railing behind them as well. When people said, before we saw the second video, a woman we saw was his mom, I already saw that woman was in the row behind, so not his mom. Event though I notice the sign with her name.

So if Ash was in a row in front of him, we would see the railing with the drink behind her. It's not, it's in front of her.

red arrow in first screenshot, woman people thought was his mom. (It's clearly not his mom). Yellow arrows, railing between the rows and drink on it. (Note; Ashley is not standing at full length here yet)

Not that it matters much, it doesn't change my view on it all. But just to be clear about things, and even when I've been sick for a few days, it didn't affect my eyesight.

[cierraonline]

What Are You? A Middle Schooler?

Chapter three - 01x02 Light Bulb

Warning - sexual themes ( 18+ Ideally | 16+ realistically )

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Following instructs that the Kindergarten teacher gave, almost every class in the small school found themselves in the gym/lunch room in where it waa nothing from chaos. In on corner you have Melissa trying to teacher class with Barbaras class behind them going over how to read time. Gregory and Janoine trying to go over spelling, the gym class playing basketball. And Siren’s class spread out trying to finish their thirty minutes of reading and taking notes. 

“I made this mess, and I need to fix this,” Janine vented to the substitue teacher. 

“Okay, but fix this how?” Gregory looked around the gym at the consequences of the teacher’s actions. “It seems very outside of your skill set. You should probably just wait for somebody to get to it…” 

“I don't want to wait for someone to get to it,” Janine disagreed. “You know, our children have

needs that deserve to be met. And I'm going to fix this. Nothing is going to get in my way.” 

“What if you have to climb another ladder?” Gregory mentions, pointing out roadblock that can possibly get in her way. “Those seem very tricky for you.”

“No. Not today.”

“Aren't you going to lunch, Janine?” Melissa askes as the other teacher besides Janine and Jacob walk to the door to leave for lunch. 

“Uh, no. I'm gonna stay and help the lunch ladies with lunch.”

“If I don’t like you then I know for sure they don’t,” Siren speaks up, wanting this let’s figure out what Janine doing process to go faster so she and her wife can go in a empty parking lot and have her stressed relieved. 

She always coming in the kitchen saying "hello" and whatnot. It's unsanitary. - Culinary Staff

“Is that what you're really doing?” Barbara looks at the woman for answers. 

“Yes! And maybe trying to get the lights back on,” the short teacher avoids eye contact.

“Would you give that a rest? What do you want? To make the whole school blow up?” Melissa directs the girl. 

“No. Plus, I can't,” She shakes her head. “Luckily, the school was built as a bomb shelter in World war II, so…”

“Let it go,” Barbra commands. 

“Okay. I will.” With that the teachers will lunch plans walk away. 

“You're not gonna let it go, are you?” Jacob asked the teacher in questioning.  

“No, I'm not gonna let it go, Jacob, okay?” She answers. “I need to right my wrong.”

“Okay. Well, count me out.”

“I never counted you in.”

“Well, then count me in, because I don't have any lunch plans.”

“Okay. Come on,” the teacher duo walks through the swinging doors to only find Siren standing on the other side with her arms crossed.

“Whatever fucked mistake you make next better be resolved before I come back from afternoon lunch one-man,” Siren tells them.

“One-man? W-what is that?” Janine looked confused. 

“What are you a middle schooler?” Siren squinted her eyes. 

“I- I think she means her and Melissa are going to go have sex in their car,” Jacob whispers calrification to the confused teacher who eyes widen in realization.

“You guys are dorks,” Siren rolled her eyes. “Go and hurry up and play failed Bob the Builder and then actually have someone fix it. I don’t need to come back stressed after I got destressed.” With that Siren walked away heading for the double doors that led to the outside world. 

“Hurry up, the nearest Walmart is 10 minutes away from here. Which means 10 minutes there and 10 minutes back leaving only 20 minutes left to eat you out and 20 to actually eat food.” Melissa honked the horn to her car at her wife who she felt like was taking her slow time getting to the car.

“Don’t rush me or you get nothing,” Pulls o the passenger door handle and jumped in.

“Yeah right!” Melissa rolled her eyes. “As if you run anything in this relationship. Now buckle up and get my snack ready for me.” 

XXX (Caution Graphic Links)

“Sit on my face now, ” Melissa turns off the car after putting it in park and reclining the driver’s seat.

“Ugh I’ve been waiting for this since Janine opened her mouth,” Siren flung off her underwear as her pants were already sitting somewhere in the back seat. Melissa licked her lips and helped her younger wife sit on her face and when Siren soaking pussy made contact with her mouth, she dived in as if she was eating her grandmother’s cooking.

link

She took Siren’s recently waxed clit between her lips and started sucking it with hunger. Siren moaned with her left hand hitting her hand on the roof of the car and her right hand clutching onto Melissa’s red locs. “F-fuck..!” Siren moaned as Melissa was nibbling, bitting, flicking her tongue, and sucking on her clit like it was the best lollipop in the world.

Melissa guided her tongue further down until it was right at Siren’s pulsating hole and plunged it in, making Siren yell out at the sensation. “Fuck, mommy!” 

link

“Yeah, you like that bambina,” Melissa mumbled into the girl’s walls before continuing to lick on the velvet surface. “You gon make a mess on my face, huh?” Melissa feels Siren pulse and twitch, which made her smirk and give a harsh smack to her wife’s brown round ass. Siren decided to take control by riding Melissa’s face as the Italian woman’s hands were massaging her ass like it was a stress toy. In hunger and cravings, Melissa’s tongue went even deeper to where she was curling her tongue so she could hit Siren’s g-spot which she did successfully which was assessed by the younger woman’s jerking movement that caused her to tighten her hold. Siren’s thighs started to tremor and Melissa could feel her walls clenching around her tongue rhythmically, so she had to use her jaw to really put the work in and make her precious bambina cum. “ Be a good bambina and cum for mommy,” Melissa whispers, giving her wife eye contact. Soon after, her hard work paid off and Siren closed her eyes tightly as her essence poured into her wife’s mouth while some smeared on Melissa’s face as she was always a messy eater.

Melissa hummed in approval and used her lips to pull on Siren’s clit before realsing and spitting the given essence back onto her Siren’s pussy. “Ahh!” Siren gasped at the sensation. “Can you give me one more babygirl?” She asked and Siren nodded. “Good bambina, get the towel from the back, place it on my lap and sit facing the wheel.” The older woman directs her much younger wife. Doing as told, siren retrieved the thick blue towel that’s get cleaned weekly due to the frequency of them having sex in the vehicle. Placing it over Melissa’s work pants, Siren sat in the position she was ordered. Melissa slid her fingers back into Siren, this time with more force and speed than before.

link

The spouse moaned, the sound vibrating in her chest as Melissa pushed in deep, filling her more than she could have imagined while being in a car and not their bed. Her walls tightened around Melissa fingers, clenching with each thrust as you built up a rhythm that left her gasping, still sensitive from her last orgasm. 

“More,” Siren whispered, the word slipping out like a plea. “Please… I need more.”

The raw need in her voice spurred Melissa on and complied without hesitation. The Schemmenti woman could see how much Siren was aching for it, her body craving the kind of release that came not only from pleasure but from being overwhelmed, from being taken. With a smirk on her face as she watched her wife through the rear view mirror as if she was watching a movie and angled her fingers upwards, finding that perfect spot deep within her, and began to stroke it with every thrust, sending sharp jolts of ecstasy through her. Siren’s breath hitched, a choked moan escaping her lips as her hips bucked, seeking more of the relentless pressure Melissa provided.

“Is this what you needed, bambina?” Melissa asked, her grungy voice low and rough as she watched Siren come undone once again on top of her. “For me to fuck you like this?”

“Y-yes, mommy!” Siren whimpered, coming down from her high as Melissa quickly pulled out her fingers. “Mhhm.”

“When we get home, go straight to our room and get Demon,” Melissa lifts Siren’s chin up to make straight eye contact while her other hand was softly rubbing the young woman’s clit up and down. “Mommy wants to finish this later. Now wipe yourself and get your clothes back on.”

“Wipe for me,” Siren mumbles, trying to get her breath back under control. 

“So fucking spoiled,” Melissa roled her eyes, being smirking, grabbing the towel that’s on her lap and wipe Siren’s vagina a little harshly which caused the woman to wince. “Ouu, mommy’s sorry bambina,” Melissa cooed in the woman’s ear before reaching over in the middle compartment to retrieve baby wipes. Opening the package she takes a wipe and wipe the fluids from between Siren’s leg and another one for her face. 

XXX

Before walking into work, she took a deep breath, knowing that the second she stepped inside, a new problem would surely arise, thanks to the unpredictable antics of Janine and Jacob.

“Ooh.”

“What in the... What's going on?” A blast of hot air smacked the group returning from lunch as they walked into the building.

“What in the world?”

“It’s so hot! My hair’s gonna frizz!”

“Janine, what did you do?!” The senior teacher spotted the new teachers emerging from the janitor’s closet, their clothes dusted with black dirt and their faces drenched in sweat. “Lookin' like who shot John.”

“Barbara, look, I know you told me to let it go, but I couldn’t,” Janine began, her voice pleading for understanding. “Jacob helped me open the breaker.”

“It was a chance to support a strong Black woman,” Jacob, the white teacher, offered his perspective under the harsh glares of the other teachers.

“The breaker?! Janine!” Melissa exclaimed, unable to fathom what had possessed the petite teacher. “You can't do this stuff! What had you come to work today and lose your mind?”

“You do realize that we’re technically in trouble now because the building violates health codes, which means we could be shut down until this gets fixed…meaning none of us are getting paid,” Siren glared at Janine. “You basically created a heat wave.”

“Look, I... I just have…” Janine’s words began to falter as her vision blurred.

“Oh. Ooh. Okay.” The teachers next to Siren moved closer, ready to catch her.

“I feel lightheaded.”

“Are you okay? Did you eat today?” Melissa questioned. “Because I know you didn’t have lunch.”

“And you didn’t have any breakfast,” Jacob added.

“Okay. We’re losing her. Do I have your consent to slap you?”

“Ooh, can I do it?” Siren raised her hand, but her godmother promptly smacked it down.

“Oh!” Janine collapsed to the floor.

“There she goes. She’s out.”

“Y’all feel this heat?” Ava joined the teachers huddled around the unconscious Janine. “Oh, my God! She’s pale like a zombie! You know, they eat the hottest people first. Let me back my tasty ass up.” She took a few steps back, holding up a flashlight as if warding off evil.

“Okay, I’ll get some water from the fridge…uh, hopefully it’s still cold!” Jacob dashed toward the teacher’s lounge.

“Oh, my God! My branzino!” Realization struck the red-haired woman. “Barb, excuse me!” She nudged her friend aside and hurried after Jacob. “I’ll be back! She’ll be okay!”

“What do we do?” Barbara asked, looking between her goddaughter and Gregory.

“I guess we gotta call the nurse for her,” Siren said, pointing to Janine’s unconscious form, “and hold class outside until Mr. Johnson comes back and fixes this mess.”

For the rest of the day, classes were essentially canceled, and everyone was outside, reveling in the freedom as a burst fire hydrant sprayed cool water into the air.

“They’re so happy,” Melissa observed, watching students play and shout with joy. “He’s climbing again.” From the corner of her eye, Siren kept watch, ensuring her students were well-behaved and not attempting to sneak off campus.

“Oh, look who’s back in the land of the living,” Melissa noted as Janine finally joined them outside.

“Who opened the fire hydrant?” Janine asked.

“Well, as Melissa would say, snitches get stitches,” Barbara replied with a knowing smile.

“That’s correct, but I’m not talking to you on account of you killing my branzino,” Melissa stated, keeping her gaze forward and not meeting the younger teacher’s eyes. With a determined look, she cleared her throat, then got up and walked down the steps to join Gregory.

“So that’s it, huh?” Janine asked, taking the now-empty seat. “I gave it my all, passed out, and ruined the school day?”

“Oh, you tanked. You tanked, Janine,” Melissa replied. “You took the whole school down with you. It was impressive.”

“Look, I know I should’ve stopped,” Janine began apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just felt so bad when I saw that look on Melina’s face this morning.”

“You don’t think it kills us to see those faces every morning?” Melissa’s tone softened, almost comically. “What, are we made of stone? You’re not the first person to feel things, kid. We care.”

“How do you and Barbara stop yourselves from caring too much, if that’s even possible?”

“Because it’s the opposite,” Melissa removed her sunglasses, looking directly at Janine. “We care so much, we refuse to burn out. If we burn out, who’s here for these kids? That’s why you’ve gotta take care of yourself. What’s with you today, anyway? You’re normally bananas, but…”

“I don’t know. Just some stuff at home, I think.”

“Oh. Okay.” Melissa nodded in understanding. “See, that’s another thing Barbara and I learned. All that at-home stuff? You’ve gotta…” She clicked her tongue. “Leave it right at that door. Otherwise, you open up a whole 'nother Panera’s box of problems.”

“I think you mean Pandora’s box,” Janine corrected gently.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Panera’s box.”

As the day ended, and the children were picked up, the teachers clocked out, ready to leave. Siren had plans and wasn’t about to let anything interfere.

“Oh, hey, guys! What’s up?” Jacob called out, spotting Janine and Gregory heading toward the building.

“Hey,” Gregory greeted. “We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“Oh. Great. I’ll join!” Jacob announced.

“Oh.”

“After-school crew!” Jacob cheered, crafting a nickname.

“Ooh, ‘Afterschool crew.’ I like that,” Janine joined in.

“Hey, Siren!” Jacob called out, spotting the teacher trying to slip away unnoticed. Caught, she took a deep breath, praying for a miracle.

“We’re all going out to eat; you should join us,” he offered.

“Na—”

“Yeah, you should totally come,” Gregory agreed, stepping behind her and gently guiding her toward the group.

“You’re so going to pay for this,” Siren muttered to Gregory, pulling out her phone to text her wife that she’d be late. She received a reply hinting at a playful “punishment” when she got home—but Siren shrugged; it wouldn’t be the first time. As the group walked, the lights suddenly turned on, startling them.

“You touched the lights, didn’t you, Janine?” Mr. Johnson appeared, dressed in work clothes and holding his fishing gear, glaring at her.

“Yes,” she admitted, sheepishly.

“Good thing I got me a system,” he replied, humming a few lines from Boyz II Men.

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[lumyl]

supid idiot <3

[doberbutts]

I always think it's funny whenever I post about an issue that directly affects me and someone responds with "you're an idiot that doesn't know what you're talking about" and I have to be like. Hello. This is my demographic. Do you see this label here? Guess who falls under it OH RIGHT it's me. Maybe I like. Have some amount of idea of what I'm talking about considering this is sampled directly from my life experiences. Just a thought.

[hauntingofhouses]

Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I'm ill again because I have the immune system of a sickly victorian child. Therefore I must project onto the harry potter next gen kids

What i think (some) of the next gen kids are like when they're sick:

Scorpius: I've already done a whole post on this but I have no idea how to link posts despite being on this site for years. the short version is, he was a sick child and constantly in and out of hospital so now he cannot gauge when he's actually really sick and needs to just rest, so albus has to forcibly keep him in the dorm or hospital wing otherwise he will still try and go to class even if actively dying

Albus: he's lowkey so dramatic. if he has a small cold you WILL be hearing about it, BUT he's super subtle. he will casually tie it into conversation to make you feel sorry for him and just keep bringing it up until youre like aw no, im so sorry man. he doesnt try with rose anymore, because she will just mock him, she knows what hes doing. he's most obvious about it to Scorpius, he'll start pouting and be like I feel sick 🥺🥺 and Scorpius is immediately like oh poor baby 🥺🥺/gen and does in fact baby him until he feels better

Rose: does not get sick and its infuriating. when there's some kind of bug going around the school, you can guarantee this girl will not get it. she thinks everyone is just being dramatic and trying to get out of class. don't come to her for sympathy unless you actually look like you're on deaths door. the most sympathy surprisingly goes to Scorpius because she has seen this idiot try to attend class whilst not being able to function properly and be escorted out

Hugo: he doesnt get sick often, like a slightly below average getting sick, but my version of hugo is so unbothered by everything, he would end up in hospital or whatever but wont tell anyone, not on purpose, he just never goes out of his way to mention anything until it specifically comes up in conversation. Hes the random kid that pops up, says he has a relevant anecdote, tells you the wildest story youve ever heard so casually, youre left like???? what the fuck?? and how has that never come up before????, then he just dissapears again

James: gets so mopey, he gets so restless and hates having to sit and wait to get better. he'll enjoy not having to go to class for like one day but when you tell him he can't go anywhere or play quidditch or anything he's immediately over it like, 😟😟 wdym??? wdym I have to just lie here until I'm better??? lemme out!!!! LEMME OUT!!!!

Lily: lowkey whiny. she's not usually super whiny but she acts like a little kid when she's sick and will constantly frown and pout and cross her arms and kick her legs. collateral of being the youngest sibling lmao. she wants people to do everything for her and will shout for people to come get the TV remote or something that's only like 2 feet away from her and just shake her arm at it until you pass it. Ginny and Harry do it for her, her brothers do not lmao

Victorie: doesn't usually get sick-sick often, but I headcanon her as being a general athlete, she likes to do triathlons in her spare time, and if she gets injured she literally has to not be able to walk before she stops. she will just keep going. have you seen female footballers? the way they will be wacked in the head and start bleeding everywhere but then be like meh I can keep going. so her.

Louis: cannot stand the wanting to throw up kind of sick. he can deal with anything else, he has a pretty good immune system, he can pretty much carry on with normal stuff, and you won't even realise he's sick, but the second he feels stomach sickness, he is pale as a ghost and out for business. lowkey has emetaphobia, he will just sit so still until he doesn't feel like that anymore trying to make it go away by just 🧍🏻‍♂️if I don't move it won't know I'm here, yk lmao. hates throwing up so fucking bad

Roxanne: takes the sickness as some kind of personal test. is dramatic in the sense that she will go full warrior mode and be like 😈 i will survive 😈 I will not be beaten by these pitiful germs 😈 and will absolutely just rock her way through it, she talks like she's on some kind of quest, and that this is some kind of evaluation of her perseverance

Fred: just lies there. will not move until he's better. doesn't get really dramatic or complain but god forbid you try and make him do something, he'll start going off about how normalised it is for people to push themselves when sick because society wants people to work themselves to death, and doesn't actually care about anyone's health, and everyone just gets so sick of hearing him, they leave him alone

Karl Jenkins: will purposefully cough on people to get them sick too "as a joke"

[butwhatifidothis]

It really is strange how Edelstans simultaneously dig hard into people that don't agree with their specific interpretation of 3H to the point of being happy they manage to drive those people away... and be so upset and baffled that people become generally disinterested/actively hostile towards 3H content.

If folks get repeatedly driven out of a fandom, and that group of people repeatedly calls anyone who disagrees with their specific interpretation of 3H stupid/illiterate/"acting in bad faith"/sexist/racist/homophobic/etc., and it is repeatedly done by a group of people who insist that 3H's fandom problem is a "both sides" thing, with all of this being dragged into spaces that have nothing to do with 3H, well... obviously people are then going to start to dislike interacting with either 3H in general or its fandom in particular?

Edelstans are the ones spreading the idea that 3H's fandom in totality is shit. They keep trying to make their hands look cleaner than they are by claiming that everyone else's hands are just dirty as/even dirtier than theirs. Of course people who are unaware of everything are going to then assume that everyone's hands are dirty, thus making people not exactly want to shake hands with anyone.

Like, really now. What did they think was going to happen when they directly go after fanartists/fanfic writers who create/say things that go against the Approved Edelstan Status Quo, to the point that a non-zero amount of these creators just up and leave social media entirely? Or after they nitpick every single Disapproved Post and then lie about the post's OP? Or after it becomes a consistent pattern that people who even remotely disagree with Edelstans' opinions are always, without fail, buried with insulting and harassing anons? Or after they're shown time and time again to defend their worst actors with "well their/our victims deserved it because they said a 3H opinion we didn't agree with"? Or when they say that everyone does this shit in 3H's fandom except for them (which is either not believed because it's demonstrably untrue or is actually believed and now those people think the overwhelming majority of 3H's fandom is filled with shit)? Or when they drag 3H discourse into literally actually everything no matter how unrelated?

That with less fandom creators within the fandom space they'd get more content? That harassing and insulting people and accusing them of being this-and-that bigot is going to magically "correct" their minds into seeing The One Truth about 3H? That people are going to just look over all the shit they did just because they allocate the blame of their action on all of 3H's fandom? That people would like 3H more if they constantly remind people of the inarguable worst thing to come from 3H? That this would help 3H's general perception?

Fuckin' no, of course that's just going to make everyone fuck off from 3H. And would you look at that, a shit ton of people have fucked off from 3H since everything has been swept under a "well it'sth a bolth thides ithue tho what can ya do?" rug. And it's been swept under that rug by pretty much the only people who are pulling this shit, who then get shocked - utterly gobsmacked! - that that made them look bad too. That crying "both sides!" included themselves too and not just the people they've been harassing. That saying that the entire fandom is bad everywhere made the entire fandom look bad everywhere.

If Edelstans are really so upset that no one talks about 3H positively anymore, then maybe they should stop being the reason no one likes 3H anymore. Just a thought

[felignis]

i think chappell roan enforcing her boundaries to creepo parasocial fans is so fucking awesome and based and she should be allowed to do whatever she wants forever

[byfulcrums]

the political message in tf kills me because it is so complex and it reflects real life so well that it's painful

it's hard to choose a side because both are bad. it's hard to choose a side because war is cruel and so is everyone involved in it. there is no way to escape the violence once you enter this cycle

there are multiple ways of viewing it. the war starts with a revolution that has long since turned into a desire for control. megatron wanted to be free, at first, and yet in the end, he was only another colonizer

the war starts because no one did anything about the treatment of the miners. it starts because people turned a blind eye to the cruelty that was happening right before them

it starts when two people fighting for freedom take their ideals to the extreme. it starts when one refuses to kill and when one bathes in blood

it's just such a complicated conflict

[kyouka-supremacy]

--

[batbirdies]

Man sometimes I make the mistake of reading the notes on a post (don’t do it) and like… this truly is the piss on the poor website.

No one has any reading comprehension and no one can clearly state what they mean. Everyone is so ready to argue at the drop of a hat. No one can make their point with clear language, and then seem to be incapable of rewording a statement if someone doesn’t understand them. Everyone immediately descends to insults upon disagreement, whether real or imaginary.

Debate classes should be mandatory in school is what I’m getting at.