#in all fairness these are not women these are girls in adult bodies. they are childish and stupid as fuck

[succubi-tch]

Joining an all-girls group on discord has reminded me of why I hate women

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Part - Part 2

Sarah’s Auntie, Helen, soothed her crying daughter and helped her out of her wet pull-up and into a fresh one. She was still furious at how cruel Sarah had been to Penny, but if all went according to plan then her three-year-old daughter was going to look positively mature compared to the little brat.

Helen was buzzing with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to go and see what Sarah looked like now. She knew how effective the hypnotist was – and this was exactly why she’d hired him. She’d been planning this with Sarah’s mother for quite some time. She’d given Sarah a final chance, just to be fair, but even she hadn’t expected the girl to be quite so rude. As far as Helen was concerned, her niece was getting exactly what she deserved.

As soon as Penny was in a dry pull-up, Helen took her by the hand and walked eagerly over to the back bedroom. There was a faint voice coming from within, followed by a high-pitched girlish giggle. Helen opened the door, and there she was... She smiled broadly sight of her bratty niece. The girl had been stripped of her crop top and jeans, and in their place was nothing but a glittering pair of fairy wings and a thick, white, disposable diaper bulging between her legs. Her bare breasts were out, and they wobbled on her chest as Sarah turned to face her with a dim, vacant grin on her face.

Helen couldn’t help but let out a cackle at the sight of her. “Hi sweetie!” she cooed tauntingly. “You’re looking very cute!”

“I’ve just finished telling little Sarah here all about how she loves being silly,” said the hypnotist. “Haven’t I, sweetie?” he asked the infantilized young woman standing next to him. “That nasty big girl is locked up inside your pretty little head. You’re just silly Sarah now, aren’t you?”

Sarah giggled again, nodding. “Siwwy Sawah,” she echoed.

“So she’s still conscious inside?” Helen asked the hypnotist while Sarah looked at them uncomprehendingly. Like Penny, who was still holding onto her mother’s hand, she looked as though she had no idea what the grown-ups were talking about.

“Oh yes,” said the hypnotist, smiling darkly. “The adult Sarah is still in there. She just can’t control her body at the moment.”

“Good,” said Helen in a satisfied tone. “I want it to be a punishment for her.” She looked into Sarah’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought she could see a hint of fury and horror behind them. She smirked. “Come on then, sweetie! Let’s get you and the birthday girl back to the party, shall we? We’ve got all sorts of fun things to do!” She turned to the hypnotist. “And nobody will see anything wrong with it?”

“Nothing at all,” he said. “I sorted that out when I did the mass session earlier. They’ll know she’s supposed to be a grown woman, but they’ll just accept in their heads that she’s nothing but an overgrown baby. They won’t think twice about her cute little boobies bouncing all over the place.”

“Mummyyy!” Penny whined. “Wanna go back to the party!”

“Okay, princess,” Helen crooned. “We’ll go back right now!”

Helen took Sarah by the hand and led the two girls back into the kitchen, with the hypnotist following behind, his eyes on Sarah’s padded bottom. To him, there was nothing better than taking pretty young women with attitudes and transforming them into overgrown toddlers…

Sarah was angry and terrified, but she had no way to show it. All she could do was rage and scream inside her head while her body smiled stupidly and toddled along beside her Auntie, her bulky nappy crinkling loudly with every unsteady step she took. What was going on?! Surely hypnosis wasn’t powerful enough to force her to act like a giant two-year-old?! They entered the kitchen, and immediately all the adults were swarming around them, cooing at her and Penny. She could see people chuckling at the sight of her bare tits, and some even reached out to tickle her tummy, making her giggle and squirm as if she was enjoying the attention.

“Time for some music!” her Auntie announced, and she started playing some embarrassingly babyish nursery rhymes on speaker. The brats were all dancing, and that’s when Sarah felt it, a sudden restlessness in her arms and legs. Without warning, her body broke into dance as well, and it wasn’t the kind of dancing she usually did at the club. There was nothing sexy or seductive about the way she was moving now. Sarah stomped her feet and waved her arms and shook her Pampered bottom to the silly baby music, giggling and squealing happily while all the adults watched and laughed. Even with her bare boobs out, the way they jiggled and bounced about on her chest just made her look ridiculous rather than sexy.

Inside her head, Sarah was seething. She’d never been more humiliated in her whole life! And then something even worse happened. Quite suddenly, she started wetting herself. There was no warning, no chance of holding it in. One moment she was prancing about in a dry diaper, and the next she was pissing. Her body didn’t seem to mind – she kept dancing and grinning like a moron, but internally she was cringing in shame as she flooded her nappy with wee-wee, and her baby-pants became droopier and droopier. Her warm pee sloshed about in her pants, and Sarah felt like she wanted to be sick. Other people had noticed her way her diaper was sagging, and the way it had become discoloured with her pee, and they pointed and chuckled openly. Her Auntie stepped forward and slipped her fingers down the front of her nappy without so much as a warning, but she only laughed once she’d felt the wetness there, and let Sarah go back to her absurd baby dancing.

The afternoon didn’t get any better. Sarah had to play pass the parcel and pin the tail on the donkey, all with a soaking wet diaper squishing horribly beneath her bottom. She’d promised herself she’d leave straight away if anyone asked her to go near a used nappy, but she’d never imagined she might have her own soggy diaper to deal with. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. She wanted to beat her Auntie and the hypnotist to a bloody pulp.

“Alright girls,” Sarah heard her Auntie say, once they’d finished yet another childish party game. “Who’s ready for cake?”

Sarah started jumping up and down in excitement just like the others, even as her stomach turned at the thought of the rich, calorie-heavy chocolate cake. They couldn’t do this to her! But there was nothing she could do but allow herself to be led over to the enormous chocolate cake. The other children (not the other children, she told herself firmly – she wasn’t a child) were all served their cake on cardboard plates first, leaving her bouncing on her feet, making her soaking wet nappy swing pendulously between her legs.

Grinning, her Auntie tied a pink bib around her neck and handed her a slice of cake. Sarah tried desperately to control her body, but she couldn’t stop herself reaching out and grabbing the piece of cake with her fingers and cramming it messily into her mouth. Soon there was chocolate all over her hands and face. She felt disgusting. She hated being messy!

Her Auntie smiled sadistically at her while she stuffed her face, and reached out to poke her in the tummy. “At this rate you might end up with a little bit of baby fat on your body!” she teased, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Wouldn’t that be adorable?” Sarah felt her stomach drop at the thought.

Once she was done, Helen cleaned her up – or at least, she cleaned up her hands. Although she wiped away some of the cake from around Sarah’s mouth, she made sure to leave her lips and chin smeared with chocolate.

At that moment, Sarah heard her tummy rumble.

Her Auntie tittered. “You can’t still be hungry!” she said. “Unless…” She smiled again, a dark and slightly eager smile. “Does little Sarah have to do a whoopsie?” she cooed delightedly.

Sarah just looked at her blankly, but she wasn’t sure she would have been able to speak even if she had been in control of her body. She felt frozen. No… Surely she didn’t mean...?

There was a cramping in her tummy, and Sarah clutched her belly. NO!

Helen leaned in close to Sarah’s face, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Is the poopy express about to make a stop in your pants, Sarah?” she asked.

Shrieking inside her mind, Sarah bent her knees and stuck her diapered bottom out behind her. Then, with a loud grunt, the twenty-one-year-old started filling her nappy with a big, yucky mess. Her diaper bulged about behind her and sagged even more heavily between her legs, until it was halfway down to her knees. Her pretty face was screwed up with the effort of dirtying her pants. She knew she must look utterly absurd, a grown woman dressed in only fairy wings and a nappy, packing her Pampers like an oversized two-year-old.

She prayed desperately that this was all some sort of horrible nightmare, that she might wake up any second. But when she was done pooping her pants, she looked up into the smiling face of her Auntie and said, “Me made poo-poo!”

“You certainly did!” her Auntie laughed, taking her by the hand and leading niece through the crowd, into the living room. “Choo-choo!” she called happily. “Make way for the poopy express! Little stinker coming through!”

Sarah just stomped along happily, as if she didn’t care one bit that all these people were seeing were waddling along in a clearly loaded diaper. Everyone was laughing at her. Then she saw where her Auntie was taking her, and she felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over her. There, in the middle of the living room floor, the hypnotist had just finished laying out a large, plastic changing mat.

Helen lowered her down onto it gently, and Sarah wrinkled her nose in revulsion as her bottom squished against the filthy mess in her pants. Then her Auntie leaned in close so nobody else could hear and said, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Sarah, because the hypnotist’s work isn’t just going to wear off. It has to be removed, otherwise you’ll just be stuck like this. And your mother and I have talked it over, and we think it would be best if you had a second try at babyhood. Maybe it will teach you to treat others with a little more concern. So get used to the feeling of a soggy, stinky nappy, Sarah. You’re not going back to normal for a very, very long time.”

Sarah’s lip trembled. It seemed that her hypnotised body had no intention of stopping her from crying.

“Oh Penny, princess!” Helen called, flashing a nasty look at Sarah before turning around. “Can you help me change your little cousin’s nappy? Just think of her as a great big dolly!”

Sarah saw Penny toddling over to her eagerly, ready to do what Sarah herself had been so disgusted by only a couple of hours earlier. As her legs were lifted into the air, and her Auntie got to work cleaning her up, Sarah thought about what her future would involve. She thought about all the messy mealtimes and baby dances and stinky diapers she would have to endure. Then she started wailing at the top of her lungs.

[and-then-there-were-n0ne]

I read this week that Instagram is pushing “overtly sexual adult videos” to young users. For a Wall Street Journal investigation, journalists created accounts that could belong to children, following young gymnasts, cheerleaders and influencers. The test accounts were soon served sexual and disturbing content on Instagram Reels, alongside ads for dating apps, livestream platforms with “adult nudity” and AI chatbots “built for cybersex”. Some were next to ads for kids’ brands like Disney.

This is something I’ve been trying to get across to parents about social media. The problem is not just porn sites. They are of course a massive concern. Kids as young as nine are addicted. The average age to discover porn is now 13, for boys and girls. And many in my generation are now realising just how much being raised on porn affected them, believing it “destroyed their brain” and distorted their view of sex.

But the problem is bigger than that. Porn is everywhere now. TikTok is serving up sex videos to minors and promoting sites like OnlyFans. The gaming platform Twitch is exposing kids to explicit live-streams. Ads for “AI sex workers” are all over Instagram, some featuring kids’ TV characters like SpongeBob and the Cookie Monster. And there’s also this sort of “soft-porn” now that pervades everything. Pretty much every category of content that kids could stumble across, from beauty trends to TikTok dances to fitness pages, is now pornified or sexualised in some way for clicks.

I think this does a lot of damage to Gen Z. I think it desensitises us to sex. I think it can ruin relationships. But beyond that, I also believe a major problem with everything being pornified is the pressure it puts on young girls to pornify themselves. To fit the sex doll beauty standard; to seek validation through self-sexualisation, and potentially monetise all this like the influencers they’re inundated with.

Which, of course, puts girls at risk of predators. Predators who are all over TikTok, Instagram and Snapchat. Predators whose algorithms helpfully deliver them more content of minors and steer them towards kids’ profiles. Predators who are taking TikToks of underage girls and putting them on platforms like Pornhub.

And this is even more terrifying because adolescent girls are especially vulnerable today. They are vulnerable anyway at that age—but today they have far less life experience than previous generations of girls did. They are extremely insecure and anxious, and much less resilient. Combine this with the fact that they are now more easily exposed to predatory men than ever before in history, and served to strangers by algorithms. And another thing: girls are also able to look way older now. They have AI editing apps to sexualise themselves. TikTok filters to pornify their bodies. And access to every kind of make-up and hair and fashion tutorial you can think of to look sexier and more mature. I don’t think enough parents realise how dangerous this situation is.

Which is why I find it so frustrating to see some progressives downplay the dangers of all this. Those that dismiss anyone concerned about the pornification of everything as a stuffy conservative. And somehow can’t see how the continual loosening of sexual norms might actually empower predatory men, and put pressure on vulnerable girls? That seems delusional to me.

Let’s just say I have little patience for those on the left who loudly celebrate women sexualising themselves online, selling it as fun, feminist and risk-free, but are then horrified to hear about 12 year-olds doing the same thing. C’mon. No wonder they want to.

But I also find it frustrating to see some on the right approach this with what seems like a complete lack of compassion. I don’t think it helps to relentlessly ridicule and blame young women for sexualising themselves online. I don’t think it’s fair either. We can’t give girls Instagram at 12 and then be surprised when as young women they base their self-worth on the approval of strangers. We can’t inundate kids with sexual content all the time and be shocked when they don’t see sex as sacred, or think sex work is just work! We can’t give them platforms as pre-teens where they are rewarded for sexualising themselves and presenting themselves like products and then shame them for starting an OnlyFans. We can’t expose them to online worlds where everything is sexualised and then be confused why some of Gen Z see their sexuality as their entire identity.

And again, on top of these platforms, girls are growing up in a culture that celebrates all of this. They are being raised to believe that they must be liberated from every restraint around sex and relationships to be free and happy, and many have never heard any different. Celebrities encourage them to be a slut, get naked, make/watch porn and make money! Mainstream magazines teach them how to up their nude selfie game! Influencers tell millions of young followers to start an OnlyFans, and pretend it’s about empowering young girls to do whatever they want with their bodies! I can’t say this enough: their world is one where the commodification and sexualisation the self is so normalised. It’s heartbreaking. And cruel that anyone celebrates it.

So sure, young women make their own choices. But when we have children sexualising themselves online, when girls as young as 13 are using fake IDs to post explicit content on OnlyFans, when a third of those selling nudes on Twitter are under the age of 18, I think it’s safe to say we are failing them from an early age.

I guess what I’m trying to get across is this: it’s tough for girls right now. It’s tough to be twelve and anxious and feel unattractive and this is how everyone else is getting attention. It’s tough to constantly compare yourself to the hyper-sexualised influencers that the boys you’re interested in are liking and following and thinking you have to compete. It’s tough to feel like the choice is sexualise yourself or nobody will notice you. The sad reality is we live in a superficial, pornified culture that rewards this stuff, and in many ways punishes you if you’re modest and sensitive and reserved, and a lot of girls are just trying to keep up with it.

We need serious cultural change. We need to wake up to how insane this all is, how utterly mental it is that we allow young girls anywhere near social media, and how we’ve let the liberalising of sexual mores escalate to the point where pre-teens are posing like porn stars and are lied to that it’s liberation. And where we need to start is with an absolute refusal from parents to let their kids on these platforms.

So please. If the relentless social comparison and obliteration of their attention span and confusion about their identity wasn’t enough, this has to be. Don’t let your daughters on social media.

[inlovewithregencyera]

My Fair Lady: Late Baroque Era Set

(no fancy thumbnail this time, sorry) ♫ < baroque music

Please READ ALL OF THIS before downloading. I will not answer an ask if it was answered here. Read.

This is a late 17th-century/early 18th-century Baroque Set. You will get 25 items for women, girls, and toddlers! Towards the bottom, I will give you tips to start a Baroque Era Save (people to find on gallery and men/boy attire).

I would like to thank @the-melancholy-maiden @linzlu @sychik @batsfromwesteros @vintagesimstress @cringeborg @acanthus-sims @stereo-91 and sims 2 creator maya40 for the stuff I've used to make all of this. I'm sure there are more creators but I cannot recall their names off the top of my head. DM me if you see a piece of your mesh here so I can give proper credit. I would also like to thank @belleophile for testing these items for me.

The stuff in this set can work for the late 1660s-early 1710s.

WHAT YOU GET: You will get 3 hat hairs, 1 for each age I listed above, 2 Fontanges for adults that work with the hat slider mod, 4 adult hairs, an adult baroque hair comb piece, 1 adult baroque sash accessory used for court and portraits, 1 ribbon hair piece to go with a hair, and 13 dresses (2 1670s/1660s mantuas, 1 1680s-1710s Habit used for Hunting or Riding, 1 1690s-1710s court dress used for court occasions, 1 1690s-1710s jeweled portrait dress and 1 1660s-1670s portrait dress with sash, and finally 7 1690s-1710s mantuas used for everyday, formal, and seasonal wear. I've included 1 dress for a child and 1 dress for a toddler as well).

SMALL NOTICE ABOUT THE PIECES: The hairline on the hairs will not behave correctly if you have head shape presets on the sim. I've tried fixing that but no luck. If I manage to fix it, I will update it. The Hat Hairs are found in the HAT category and are not compatible with hairs you MUST download the hair files that I'll be including with them. This being said, if you remove sim clothing while they have the hat hair on, it removes the hair override too. It's strange, but just put the hat back on and it should fix. The comb, and ribbon accessory are also found in the hat category. The Sash is found in the GLASSES category. The 1660s-1670s Mantuas are not compatible with shoes, leggings, or socks. I've removed these options in CAS tools so you shouldn't have to worry about clipping. The Barbara 1670s Dress has a sash meshed onto it, and because of this does not behave well with bigger bodies. The same applies to the Henrietta 1670s Dress, as the pearls don't behave with bigger bodies. Same with the Sarah 1670s Dress jewels. The 1690s-1710s Mantuas will have small gaps if the sim is plus-sized. I have tried to fix these issues, but no luck. The hat hair fontange looks a bit gray without reshade or a lighting mod. @northernsiberiawinds has some good lighting mods. Other than that, it's fine. Below, is how it will look white with a lighting mod.

Everything has AT LEAST 20 swatches. Some things have more. There are only a few things that don't have this many swatches.

Here are some pics up close of what you are getting.

Here are some pics/fashion plates from this era.

Did I forget the 1680s mantua..? Oh no! Luckily, I've included this surprise 1680s dress you'll be getting as well for reading all of that. So 26 items! (here you can see hat hair fontange without lighting mods installed)

BAROQUE SAVE TIPS: These dresses will work for winter, summer, and traveling wear. Just add a fichu for summer wear or a shawl. For winter wear just add some long gloves and a cape. For men's stuff from this era, @stereo-91 has recolored some acanthus outfits which can be found here. I'll show you how they look below. I also recommend going to his gallery (ROTAMETERS91) as he has AMAZING builds for this era. For a little boy, @acanthus-sims has some stuff that can work.

DOWNLOAD

[xstarsdiary]

ミ day 002 : 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❦

@neteyamsyawntu 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 2023

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : slight nipple play, pet names, cum shot, i don’t even know- i’m tired as fuck.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 : ao’nung x fem avatar reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : aged up ao’nung, not proofread, very rushed at the end, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+

When your avatar was created it really inherited your dna. The scientists in the lab were shocked to say the least when they saw how different your avatars body was from most.

You were a curvy girl, with bigger breasts and plumper thighs but nobody could’ve expected for your avatars body to be so simular to yours, it wasn’t usual for a navi woman to have such large breasts.

You weren’t complaining though, many men and women in the clan loved and worshiped your body and nobody really minded that you were actually a tawtute.

You assumed that it was because when growing up you were very close with the sully family, especially Neteyam. The two of you have been two peas in a pod since he was born only a few months after you.

Even Neytiri didn’t seem to mind your presence. She was grateful for you, for how hard you worked for the clan and for the joy you bought to her family, she couldn’t help but have the smallest soft spot for you.

Most nights consisted of getting your pussy pounded and pleasured by somebody, anybody in the clan that you could find who was needy enough to want you.

However, after you and the Sully family had to flee everything changed. You had gone with the family as Neteyam insisted, after having a gun pointed to your head by one of the vrrteps, he didn’t want you to leave his side ever. You were his best friend.

The trip to the Metkayina clan was long and rough, you could remember it like it was yesterday. You had traveled in your human body on Neteyam’s ikran with him, your avatar body in the helicopter which belonged to norm behind you.

Norm Spellman. A scientist well known around the lab. He had taken care of you since you and your friend Spider were born all the way up until your early adult years. He had suggested bringing a small link pod and transportable shack for you so that you can live there with your human and avatar body.

Everybody had immediately agreed to the idea though they were all unsure of how other navi would react to a tawtute living within their clan. Ronal, the tsahik of the metkayina was sceptical at first, worried and angered that the family of forest navi had bought a demon with them. It took a lot of convincing and pleading from Toruk Makto himself for her and the Olo’eyktan to allow you to stay.

You and the Sully’s had been living in Awa’atlu for a few months now and let’s just say that you’ve had your fair share of men and women. Definetly not as many as you had back in the forest as people were still wary of you but you still enjoyed the pleasure.

You did have a favourite though.. Ao’nung. At first you hated his guts, he was constantly picking on you and the Sully siblings but after a few beatings from Neteyam and Lo’ak themselves, he eventually grew out of his immature bully phase.

The first time you and Ao’nung really hit it off was a bit awkward, he was the very first of the Metkayina to ever lay a hand on you in such a sexual way and you didn’t know how to feel about that at first.

After a while though, more people of the clan began to seek pleasure in you and you began to seek pleasure in them, taking out all of your anger and stress with their skilful mouths and large dicks that could fill you up just right.

But you would always remind yourself that nobody could ever fill you up how Ao’nung could, no.. His cock was seemingly magical, a gift from Eywa herself.

The shape, size and every little detail of his pretty dick was imprinted in your mind, permanently stuck in there. You always catch yourself romanticising about him, thinking about how slowly he pushes inside of you, making sure that you feel every single inch of him fill you.

Those thoughts always made your loincloth or panties wet and some days, whenever you were in your human body - you were desperate for him to fill your tight little hole up.

You pushed that thought aside every time though, you had lost your virginity already in your avatar body but nothing except for your own fingers had ever breeched your pussy in your human body and you weren’t sure if it would stay that way forever or not.

Usually it was always you who would go running to Ao’nung, seducing him into pleasuring you.. however, today that was not the case.

Ao’nung had barged into your mauri, wide eyed and with a large and extremely visible bulge in his tewng. You had nearly drooled at the sight, eyebrows raised as you were stunned that he had just barged in like this.

“Ao’nung?” Your voice reached his ears as he groaned, his loincloth only seemingly getting tighter by the second. You watched as he lightly palmed the bulge in his loincloth, trying to give himself a little bit of pleasure as he continued to let out soft pants and groans.

“Need you- Need you right now, syulang..” he had rasped out, his voice so unbelievably sexy and luring, his face scrunched up in slight pain as he helplessly stared into your amber eyes.

You could already feel yourself becoming wet, knowing that your tewngwas also soon enough going to become moist as you took small steps towards the metkayina boy, him walking towards you as well before your lips crashed together.

It was a very heated and needy kiss, your fangs scraping against one another’s as both of your tongues fight for dominance inside of each others mouths.

He wasted no time in untying your pretty top which was made of string, beads and leaves from the forest. You felt his hot breath fanning your lips as he pulled away, watching his left hand grope your plump tit as you let out an airy moan.

His fingers slightly pinched and brushed over your nipple, every so now and then giving it a small tug as you let out soft moans, your hands roaming his body from his muscular biceps to his hard chest and all the way down to his slim waist.

“Fuck-“ his gruff voice comes you as your hand brushes against the huge bulge in his loincloth, ever so slightly teasing him. “Get on your knees f’ me, syulang.”

You do as he says immediately, gracefully dropping to your knees with your smaller hands holding onto his thighs, your face just above his dick. You had already lowered yourself, now face to face with his cock but your brows furrow when he shakes his head.

His fingers hook under your chin, your body following as he uses them to guide you up to the right height. Looking up at him, you can see the smirk on his face, the lust in his eyes and his fangs lightly biting his bottom lip as he hastily unties his loincloth.

In an instant his pretty teal cock springs out, his hand immediately reaching to give it a few strokes as to give him some sort of release from the torture he’s endured. Your pupils widen as you watch a drop of pre-cum leak from his pink tip, dripping onto the marui’s floor.

His hand leaves his cock as he moves to grab both of yours, guiding them to your perky tits as he uses your hands to push your tits together. At first you’re confused, about to ask what he’s doing before his cock thrusts upwards and in between your breasts, sliding in between them easily as he uses his spit as lube.

You quickly catch on to what he’s doing, sitting more upright and pushing your boobs even closer together as you listen to his grunts and groans, a whimper leaving his lips every now and then as he mercilessly thrusts.

The two of you had never done something like this before so you weren’t sure of what to do and how to act, the only thing you could think of doing is meeting his thrusts with small bounces to make it easier for him, your tits jiggling in your hands slightly as you hold them tighter.

The tip of his dick reaches just up to your mouth every time he thrusts upwards, just neatly hitting your pretty pink lips before disappearing into your cleavage. Your tongue instinctively sticks out so that his tip hits it, your saliva lubricating him even more as he glides easier between your tits.

This action only drives him crazy, feeling his release begin to build up. “So fuckin’ good. My girl, all pretty for me..” He praises you through groans and heavy breathes, his dick twitching every single time your tongue touches it in the slightest.

You can tell that he’s getting close, the taste of precum on your tongue causing your to smile and let out a breathy laugh, your chest bouncing with every giggle that leaves your lips as you push your boobs even closer together, creating a tighter space for his cock.

He’s nearly over the edge now, his hands finding their way into your loose hair as whines begin to leave his throat. He bites his lip as hard as he can to stop the lewd noises from coming out but he just couldn’t stop himself when you’re in front of his like this.

“Fuck- oh shit!” His release hits him like a truck, making his vision go spotty as his eyes roll to the back of his head, spurts of white cum painting your chest and tongue as his thrusts turn sloppy and uneven.

You’re a mess now, hair tangled and still his his hand which is now balled into a fist, face and chest messy, sticky with a thin layer of glistening sweat. You smile up at him, almost innocently- as if the two of you hadn’t just done what you’d done.

Ao’nung’s chest heaves with deep, raggedy breaths, his hand loosing its tight grip on your hair as he calms himself down. He peers down at you, face slightly flushed and his body also sweaty as he helps you stand, your perky tits which are still covered in his cum on display for him.

He moves over to his loincloth, picking up the piece of clothing and tying it around his waist as you continue stand there, watching as his muscles flex and glisten with sweat before watching as he walks back over to you.

Now standing directly in front of you, one of his hands moves to your right breast, groping it as his thumb swipes over your hardened nipple a few times. “We should do this again sometime, vrrtep evenge.”

And with that, he gives you one finally kiss, his tongue barely swiping against yours before he swiftly makes his way out of the marui, leaving you a sticky- horny mess as you sigh.

@plooto ❥

[franks-arms]

As Claudia x Madeline increasingly looks like it is going to be a thing and the fanbase comes to talk about them as a couple more and more there are a few things I think haven't been considered enough.

One of the worries Claudia expressly brings up when it comes to her future romantic prospects is that any adult who would be sexually attracted to her would be sexually attracted to her young 14-year-old body. This is a concern of Claudia's that everybody has seemed to just gloss over with Madeline. Madeline is an adult woman who perceives Claudia as a prepubescent girl when they meet! Just because they are both women, just because it is sapphic, doesn't mean this problem goes away and doesn't make any other aspect of their dynamic inherently purer or more moral.

Madeline is an adult woman who actively sat and talked with a girl she perceived as being in her early teens (even if she noted it was odd Claudia hadn't seemed to age in a year) about sex in a fair bit of detail! Their dynamic is also weird, taboo, uncomfortable, and immoral! If AMC really does go this route with their relationship, then it does put Claudia in the same uncomfortable position she worried about in season one!

All this isn't to say not to say stop enjoying their relationship but just that it isn't the sunshine and rainbows I've seen other people act like it is. It's weird, it's messy, it's not perfect.

[inkykeiji]

got me praying, man this hunger, and feeling something rotten 

characters: akutagawa ryuunosuke x fem!reader x nakahara chuuya

genre: smut

notes: just a lil something about aku jerking off as chuuya fucks the life out of you hehe! please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: sit next to me by foster the people

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, aku being a dirty nasty little voyeur, pretend siblings as a habit and inside joke between reader and chuuya (only mentioned once briefly and not by them), akutagawa’s pov, two mentions of mori, reader is an assassin, size difference (chuuya is taller than reader), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon secret audio recording, aku’s kinda toxic in his thoughts and ideals

words: 3.3k

synopsis:

One final glance, he promises himself as he straightens up, already starved for another glimpse of you, belated grey eyes floating to your form again. Your head lolls to the side as dainty fingers trace the ridges of Chuuya’s spine, your hazy gaze connecting with gunmetal, keeping his stare captive for a moment—pinioning him down, bolting his body in place, slashing him wide open to peel back his skin and pry apart his bones and examine his insides, the very deepest and darkest parts of himself, reveling in the way he squirms and fawns and bears it all to you, holding himself open for you, always—before, at last, you wink.

You knew. You’ve known all along. 

Despite the fact that Akutagawa always dutifully attends these extravagant work Galas—parties thinly veiled beneath the word ‘functions’ that Mori enjoys throwing for ‘networking purposes’, held at one of his many mansions scattered across Japan—you’d be hard pressed to actually locate him at any of them.  

Usually, he finds a quiet corner, hidden and out of the way, to spend the night in—far from the commotion and the conversations and the crowds. 

Tonight, however, he leans against the railing of the mansion’s balcony, overlooking the ballroom, a glass of half-finished champagne dangling between slim fingers, and he watches. 

Because tonight, something has enraptured his attention. 

This is the first Gala you’ve been permitted to attend, limited spaces reserved for upper-level Port Mafia members only. 

A blur of crimson and onyx, you whirl across the marble floor in Chuuya’s arms, narrowly but expertly avoiding the other couples, your fingers loosely interwoven behind his neck, playing with the little curling tufts of copper at the nape, his hands on your lower back, fingers splayed wide, tips resting on the swell of your ass.

Like Akutagawa’s little sister, you too were born with no ability. You had been brought in to fill the gaping hole Kyouka’s absence has left—the role of an unassuming assassin; cute, sweet, deadly—and had been doing a fair job so far despite the fact that you’re an adult, with Chuuya assigned to train you in hand-to-hand combat, and Gin to train you in stealth. 

It’s a position Akutagawa has refused for his own younger sister many times. 

But your talents seem to be befit for it, effortlessly able to morph into whatever countenance the job calls for—the sweet, naive little girl; the playful, saucy little minx; the sad, desperate little baby—resulting in both men and women instantly lowering their guard around you (there’s no way such a sweet thing could ever be dangerous, right?) just before you strike and slit their throat from ear to ear.

Your laughter rings out over the crowd, gently tugging him from his thoughts, eyes drawn back to your form. You’ve ceased your dancing, Chuuya using his full body weight to back you against the wall as you giggle and gaze up at him, caged between his chest and plaster. 

Large hands are pressed flat, fingers splayed, on either side of your shoulders as his hips keep your thighs spread, your obscenely tiny cocktail dress stretched as far as it can be, ridden-up material cutting into your skin.

Chuuya’s talking to you, his body closing in on yours—tighter and tighter and tighter—as his lips work, their movements soft and smooth as silk. Akutagawa can barely imagine the words that must be flowing from his skilled mouth.

Your eyes are dark, glittering beneath Chuuya’s shadow, daring him to do all of the things he’s murmuring to you. His forehead pushes against your own, mouths so close his lips must be brushing yours as he speaks, and Akutagawa cranes his neck, attempting to achieve a better view.

It’s absolutely disgusting, deplorable, that the two of you are acting in such a manner, let alone in public, and Akutagawa can hardly believe no one is objecting to something so obscene. Disgust unfurls in his belly, sticky and thick and tainted with a coat of acidic jealousy, snuffing out the few flares of inexplicable, unmistakable desire.

“They seem a little close for siblings, don’t you think?” 

“That’s because they aren’t real siblings,” Higuchi responds dutifully, head bowed slightly. “It’s a lie they used to use when they were kids, to con people into giving them money or food. I guess they just...Haven’t fully grown out of it yet,” she shrugs. 

Ah. That makes more sense; the two of you look nothing alike. Briefly, Akutagawa wonders if Mori knows this, and concludes that he probably does—probably did, the moment Chuuya brought you into his office, introducing you as his ‘little sister’ and asking for a job.

“How do you know this?” 

“I know things,” she says, body bristling, a little defensive. “I hear things, you know,” she makes a vague motion with her hand as way of explanation. 

He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t care enough press the issue. He supposes it doesn’t matter either way. 

“Wait,” Higuchi begins slowly, turning to look at her superior with widened eyes. “Why are you interested?” 

“No reason,” he responds, downing his drink before shoving the gleaming champagne flute at her. “Get me another one of these.” 

And then she’s off, nodding and murmuring his honorific to herself as she bustles away, nothing more than a bothersome bug, swatted away with a single sweep of his hand. 

Grey eyes scan the crowd again, picking you out with practiced ease, something hard and heavy sinking in his chest when he finds both of your hands in one of Chuuya’s, a devious smile painted across your face as you back away, leading him into the shaded depths of the hallway, Chuuya’s steps languid and lazy as he allows you to pull him along willingly, readily.

Akutagawa’s body is moving before his mind can even comprehend it, forcibly switched into autopilot as it desperately follows you, allowing your aura to string him along like a dog on a leash, lovesick, hopeless.

It’s easy to tail the two of you, easy to hide behind pieces of mahogany furniture and large houseplants entirely undetected as you stumble down the dim hallways, legs entwined and lips locked, tripping over each other’s ankles only to catch yourselves a second before you tumble to the floor. 

The sound of spit-slicked lips slipping and smacking echoes around the two of you—a borderline grotesque sound, sopping and squeaky—but neither seem to care, entirely absorbed in one another to notice much of anything at all. 

It’s almost as if you’re attempting to devour each other, mouths smashing together as you attempt to swallow the other’s tongue, the drool leaking from the corners smeared across your chins and your jaws, shimmering in the low light; ravenous hands pawing at the hem of your dress and the buckle of his belt, gripping and tugging with a sort of unparalleled urgency—something Akutagawa has certainly never seen before, much less experienced himself—fingers vying and nails starved for the naked flesh of one another. 

The two of you fall into the first open door you come across—a bedroom, you got lucky, one of many vacant rooms in this creaky old manor.

It isn’t exactly uncommon for Port Mafia members to stay the night, especially if they’ve had too much to drink or sniff or swallow. Akutagawa assumes you’ll be staying the night this time, too.

You must be really fucking drunk—or maybe you just don’t care, unbothered by the thought of someone walking in, of someone seeing—because Chuuya doesn’t even shut the door properly, giving the corner a halfhearted kick in a poor attempt to close it as the two of you stagger past it, the latch bouncing against its strike plate, failing to catch and click into place. 

Well, if it truly doesn’t matter to you that much, then it doesn’t matter if Akutagawa stays to watch, right? Surely Chuuya would’ve taken the time and care to fully close the door, to make sure it was shut good and tight, if this was an issue or concern for either of you, wouldn���t he? 

Of course he would have.

So it shouldn’t be a problem when Akutagawa presses a cheek against the ornate doorframe, the gap left by the door just wide enough for him to use a singular eye to peep in.

“Chuu—ah!” you’re crying out as Chuuya shoves you onto the bed, a dark chuckle oozing from his lips. 

The mattress dimples beneath his hands and knees as he crawls over your heaving body, sitting back on your thighs. 

“I want this off,” he’s saying, words slurred slightly, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your satiny dress and pushing upward; up past your hips, past your waist, past your breasts, until your arms are raising obediently, allowing him to tug the garment from your body completely. 

Scarlet lace, delicate and imbued with tiny gems, coats the most intimate curves and contours of your body, bra glittering in the golden light with each rise of your chest. 

“Fuck,” Chuuya breathes as he looks down at you, palms sliding up your stomach to grab at your breasts. 

Akutagawa agrees—you look fucking breathtaking, all smooth dew-kissed skin that almost shimmers in the low light, undoubtedly softer than anything he’s ever touched, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, mouth watering at the thought; and a pair of jewels for eyes, shaded by thick lashes, that beg Chuuya to do all the things Akutagawa wishes he could do to you, all the things that Akutagawa’s wanted to do to you since the moment he saw you, all of the things he’s sure Chuuya had been murmuring to you only minutes ago, the heel of his palm grinding into his already hard cock through his trousers. 

“I can’t wait to fucking ruin you,” Chuuya continues, the words still airy on his tongue, eyes still glued to your tits as his fingers grasp and knead and massage, and you laugh—a pretty little melody that has your neck arching off the pillow—a teasing little smile spread across your lips; bold, enticing. 

“Well, get on with it already,” you say, and Chuuya’s hands cease their movement.

For a moment everything is still, your connected gazes thick and unblinking—challenging, almost—and Akutagawa expects him to hit you, a backhand hard enough to whip your head to the side, to leave an imprint of knuckles across your cheek, but Chuuya only laughs, the sound tangled with a deep growl rumbling in his throat.

“You little brat,” he’s snarling out, but it doesn’t sound mean, or harsh, or any of the things Akutagawa would think it to, words spit from between a sharp, toothy smile. 

And then his fingers are tearing through the lace, fingertips clawing holes through the dainty fabric like flames licking through a spiderweb as it practically melts in his hands, nothing more than stringy tatters of ruined garments as he rips them from your body.

There’s no prep, Chuuya seemingly too impatient to waste any time with that, and the sweet little hiss that slithers out from between your teeth, features twisted in agony, as he shoves his cock into you has Akutagawa’s cock twitching eagerly against his palm. 

He rubs it harder in response, crude and messy and desperate, palm cupping it through his pants and giving it a few halfhearted squeezes; nothing more than pathetic half-pumps, unable to jerk it properly with two layers of clothing in the way.

It’s so immature, so fucking juvenile, dirty and disgusting and downright shameful, but he doesn’t fucking care. 

Chuuya’s hips start pounding hard and fast the instant he bottoms out, the grip of his fingers so tight on your hips that they’re sinking into the flesh, creating deep dips that’ll surely bear his name in the morning, signed in blotchy little ovals of navy and violet and splatters of broken blood vessels beneath your skin.

The pace is merciless, pleasure and sheer force rippling your flesh oh-so-prettily with the flexing of his hips.

Chuuya’s talking to you, utter filth spilling from his lips, obscenities huffed out on the tails of laughter that mingle with the sounds he’s quite literally fucking out of you, every drive of his cock pushing another melody up your throat and onto your tongue, so dirty it has torrents of heat flooding Akutagawa’s cheeks in rushes, pooling beneath the skin as it seeps through the tissues and staining them a dusty pink.

But Akutagawa’s barely listening; Akutagawa can barely concentrate on anything at all, his own pleasure muffling his ears, heavy breaths he keeps trying to suppress building in his chest, dense and suffocating. And it’s pathetic, really—he’s barely touched himself at all, cock straining against his trousers in desperate yearning, yet he can already feel those telltale sparks tingling in his gut, cinders that smolder in waiting, ready to catch fire at any moment.

Akutagawa’s cock is aching, his hips giving sloppy, premature little thrusts into his palm—insatiable, uncontrollable—and a whine reverberates in his throat, swallowed down with the pools of spit collecting in the crevices of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, the word garbled and drowning in saliva. 

This isn’t enough, he needs more, ramming his hand down his trousers without even bothering to undo the button, the waistband digging into his forearm tight enough to turn the skin a sickening bone white, just shy of cutting off his circulation.  

A smooth hand wraps around the base of his cock and squeezes twice, hard, a futile attempt to ward off his embarrassingly impending orgasm.  

From this angle he has a perfect view of your bouncing tits and contorting face—the way your brow scrunches together, relaxes, then tightens up again; the way your lashes flutter, flickering the whites of your eyes as they roll in your skull; the way your mouth, bitten raw and glimmering with saliva, stays pried open in a perfect little ‘o’ by the steady stream of vocalized pleasure pouring past it.

And, Christ, the noises you’re making are so fucking gorgeous—broken mewls and soft whines and airy moans—his free hand fumbling around in his pocket, struggling to pull his phone free from its confines, desperate to record what he can for later use. 

It’s a difficult feat to perform with one hand, phone flipping open with the sharp click of plastic against plastic, thumb straining to hit that little red RECORD button, missing it twice before finally succeeding.

The feeling of triumph is short-lived, though, because he’s going to mess the whole recording up beyond repair if he doesn’t quiet down, if he doesn’t shut the fuck up.

Stubborn little whimpers keep climbing up his throat, rough and painful as they hitch and tangle with his hardly suppressed gasps, choked remnants tumbling past his mouth. Teeth slice into his bottom lip, bursts of copper staining his tongue as blood oozes from the fresh wound, the lines of his gums tinged bright crimson. 

The strokes of his hand match the snap of Chuuya’s hips, jerking his cock hard and fast, just like how Chuuya’s fucking you, and if he focuses hard on your face, he can almost imagine it’s him fucking you, his palm slick with sweat, his grip pulsing in time with the noises spilling from your lips, simulating the throbbing of your cunt. 

Heat begins to coil deep in the pit of his belly, cinders converging into something tight and fluttery and scorching, and he barely has the decency to stifle his groan of disappointment, forehead knocking against the doorframe, brow cinching and molars grinding as he tries to ward the eruption off for just a little longer, front teeth digging further into the gaping wound weeping on his bottom lip. 

Tiny spikes of pain sear through his face; up his cheeks and down his neck, the sensation doing nothing to douse, dim, dull the roiling ball of fire in his gut. 

“God, you’re so—so fucking good for me—take my cock so well—” Chuuya’s groaning, voice all ragged rasp, rough and gasping. 

It’s true, you do take his cock well, and Chuuya gives it to you well, too, the smooth muscles in his thighs almost mesmerizing, graceful as they glide beneath his skin despite his borderline vicious movements.

Akutagawa’s thighs, in contrast, are beginning to tremble, little jolts of pleasure skittering up his legs and wriggling under his flesh in droves. His whole body is wound tight and tense, jaw clenched with such ferocity that it’s beginning to ache, muscles gone hard and stiff as if he’s physically trying to hold off his imminent orgasm, pushing back against an invisible surge.

Short, sharp huffs of breath are escaping his nose now, materializing in little droplets of condensation on the wood, wet and humid against his upper lip. The pumping of his hand accelerates, perfectly in sync with the brutal plunge of Chuuya’s hips, and his lids begin to droop, heavy and weighted with pleasure. It’s a struggle to haul them open again, vision blurring in and out of focus as he tries to concentrate, desperate to see how beautiful you look when you cum, ecstasy bleeding around the edges of his sight, bright and overexposed. 

Because you’re getting close, too, Akutagawa can tell. It’s easy to see, obvious, evident in the pitchy wails that fade into the sweetest little rasps—poor imitations of the words they were supposed to be; evident in the way your spine arches so artfully off the mattress, each vertebra working in unison to form a perfect curve as your hips push towards Chuuya’s; evident in your flexing, trembling thighs and curling, vying fingers, grappling at the sheets and Chuuya’s shoulders, nails scraping against linen and skin.

Another three pumps of Chuuya’s hips, another three pumps of Akutagawa’s fist, and you’re both cumming in tandem, so hard it whites his vision and wipes his mind, so hard it kicks his breath from his chest in a pained wisp of an expletive, his orgasm amplified by your gorgeous little noises. Thick streams of cum explode all over his fist and briefs, burning and sticky and so, so much that it’s soaking through his underwear and into his suit pants, a large, uneven, dark patch staining his right thigh.

He can feel it, dribbling down his inner leg in large globs, viscous and gummy and leaving broad strokes, rapidly cooling trails in its wake. 

There’s no way he doesn’t look a mess, strands of ink clinging to his temples and the back of his neck, soaked with salt and sweat, cheeks tinted with exertion, chest stuttering as he tries to swallow down tattered breaths in a feeble attempt to keep from drawing attention to himself. 

There’s no way anyone wouldn’t be able to guess what he had just been doing in a mere instant, if they saw him.

Chuuya isn’t faring much better, to be honest, body collapsed atop of yours, heaving back shimmering with a sheen coat of perspiration, gleaming with each rise and fall as it catches in the light. Akutagawa doesn’t even remember Chuuya cumming—not that it matters, you’re the only reason he’s even here at all—too busy drowning in the intense bliss of his own orgasm to have noticed at all, all senses suffocated as the pleasure absorbed him, ate him up, swallowed him down, then spit him back out.

Finally, Akutagawa pushes off the doorframe with a weak arm, muscles spent and shrivelled with pleasure, wincing a little at the deep indent he’s sure the wood of the frame left on his forehead. 

One final glance, he promises himself as he straightens up, already starved for another glimpse of you, belated grey eyes floating to your form again. Your head lolls to the side as dainty fingers trace the ridges of Chuuya’s spine, your hazy gaze connecting with gunmetal, keeping his stare captive for a moment—pinioning him down, bolting his body in place, slashing him wide open to peel back his skin and pry apart his bones and examine his insides, the very deepest and darkest parts of himself, reveling in the way he squirms and fawns and bears it all to you, holding himself open for you, always—before, at last, you wink.

You knew. You’ve known all along. 

His cock gives one last spurt in response—pitiful, pathetic, and entirely instinctive—and you smile. 

And no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he doesn’t want to be, he’s nothing more than warm, gooey putty in your soft palms. 

He’ll never be anything more than that. 

[vidalinav]

Stu(died) Bonus Scene 1

Summary: This is how Nesta gets Cassian's hoody.

~

Nesta heads to the campus library after her shift and it’s not to study. It’s to feel paper on her fingertips. To hide behind a shelf and sit at the bottom, wading through carpeted seas. There’s something about the smell of books. Home is not a place that is hours away, but a place between pages that she can’t begin to fathom or feel.  

Nesta can read it though.  

She can smell it.  

And yes, maybe the semester is getting a little too heavy and so her thoughts are weighing down on her. If only she could carry a thousand books instead of working another shift, or writing another paper, or twisting her brain to remember every detail of a lecture. Her professors are starting to sound like the adults in Charlie Brown. Wha wha’s instead of the explanation on the electrical activity of the heart.  

Rip out her aorta, already. Each ventricle and vein. Press words instead of notes into the cavity. Nesta wants it to fill her... to feel full... to feel... happy again.  

Because she’s starting to feel only tired.  

And yes, she needs sleep. A shower. Some food. But Nesta thinks of books instead of walking home after her shift. She lugs herself to the elevator, presses the button for the fourth floor and she breathes in the smell of old paper. 

No one will ask where she is. Nesta works too much for anyone to guess that she might not be where she’s supposed to be, so hours will pass between shelves and there’s nothing romantic about the way her arms hug her knees, because no one else will be there to hug her. Because who will care about her if all she does is work?  

But Nesta won’t cry.  

Or at least she says she won’t. She’ll let the books calm her back into decency and composure. Enough to go home and do her homework for the night, because it’s still due in the morning.  

Everything seems to be due tomorrow and the night arrives sooner than she thinks.  

Nesta’s not crazy enough to sleep here, but she knows some people will. It’s easy to do when there are students gulping down Red Bulls until their body is 70% caffeine. There’s only so many all-nighters you can pull, before the inevitable crash, but Nesta has not pulled her fair share.  

In fact, there’s nothing really wrong.  

Or at least she says there isn’t.  

She’s alone on a Thursday and tomorrow it'll be Friday and her friends will be planning a movie while Nesta thinks of work. Shifts in between studying.  

But she’s used to it. She’s done this before. Nesta does this every semester... and every semester more, she scurries through the shelves, peaking through hallways. Every semester she sits on the floor, waiting for books to tell her how she feels.  

Nesta doesn’t truly know. 

Most of the time in the library, well... she’s annoyed. Irritated at something Cassian says or the way he doesn’t do what she tells him. She fumes, nagging and bitter as she taps at his textbook and for some reason that feels... good.  

It at least feels better than this. This awful, nothing feeling. This tired, resigned woe. This if no one knows I exist, do I? feeling.  

Will this be her life for four more semesters?  

Nesta sighs, squeezing tighter at her knees.  

And it's dark by the time Nesta leaves. As she walks out of the library, the night takes a bite... a little nibble before Nesta stops at a lamp post, safe in its shade.   

And... well, night is only scary for women, she thinks.  

That must be what sits on her chest, maybe.  

There’s a story that people pass around like nighttime fairytales about a girl who was stabbed on campus three years ago. It’s why their campus has emergency alarms at every corner and why there’s a buddy system for late night trips back home.  

But Nesta doesn’t think to call them. Nesta does everything herself.  

Alone, she thinks... and it might not be fear that sits there, peeking through her skin.  

It roars, she knows—that feeling.  

The night is only scary for women.   

That’s the greatest knowledge she’s learned and perhaps there is one feeling she can name instead of numbness. This great big... unfairness. Quiet in the solid night.  

It is unfair that she is her. That she is a woman. It is unfair she is a student. That she is not even a rich student. That she has to study. That days pass and she studies. That years pass, and she’ll study for those too.  

It is quite unfair that she is not a frat boy.  

Not a privileged little frat boy whose dues would pay for her tuition... or her books... or her food. Three jobs? They’ve never heard of work.  

Cassian has sure never heard of work. He eats privilege for breakfast. With his little silver spoon.  

So, she doesn’t know why she calls him. She presses her thumb to the number before she can convince herself against it.  

Nesta can hear laughter in the background. Giggling and bright.  

Feminine.  

“Nesta?” He answers, and his voice is rough with concern. Not at all with curiosity, though she’s never called him before.  

“Cassian,” she breathes and there must be something in the sound of her voice. Something that means no arguing. No questions asked except for one.   

“Nesta, where are you?”  

She looks around the buildings. The yellow brick beneath her shoes could lead anywhere. To the library. To the closed restaurants stuck in dorm halls. “I’m on campus. Near... the business hall.”  

“Wait there and I’ll come get you,” he says and for once Nesta doesn’t argue with him.   

~ 

The lamp posts illuminate pockets of an abandoned campus, and the light means someone else exists. Nesta needs only to reach out a hand and he’ll be standing there.  

Because she called.  

Because he worries for her. She can hear it in his voice on the phone.  

When he comes running, Cassian’s in pajama pants and a white tee. In the dark, his chest looks like the moon. He has his hoodie crumpled in his hands, and he holds out the shaded red urging her take it.  

“It’s freezing out here,” she replies, tucking her hand into her pockets as if that might make him pull it back. Out of reach where her hands can’t grasp it without her permission.  

“I know,” he says, firmly, “so wear my hoodie so you don’t freeze to death. You didn’t bring a coat?” 

“It was warm earlier. I didn’t think I would be here this long.” 

Cassian’s hair flops around his face as he tilts his head, scrunching up his brows. “Why were you? Didn’t you work today?”  

“I just lost track of time,” she answers dismissingly. It's technically true, though she supposes time is not so easily tracked when she is often running out of it. She can’t stop thinking about classes, about money, about the future, about her lack of time. So Nesta shrugs. “The library makes me... calm—Why are you laughing?” 

Cassian’s grin gets wider at her derisive tone. “I’ve just seen you get mad at me so many times in that library, I have a hard time imagining it makes you calm.”  

Nesta can’t help but huff as she crosses her arms. She can feel the wind, her short-sleeved shirt barely covering anything. Cassian doesn’t seem to like that. He frowns at her arms, his brows permanently engraved.  

“Still, take my hoodie,” he urges, “I don't like seeing you shiver when there’s a perfectly good hoodie right here going to waste.”  

Cassian holds it out for her, but Nesta doesn’t want to take it. It seems too intimate. She doesn’t want to feel the cloth on her skin, warm from his body, wonder if that’s how his hugs must feel. She doesn’t want to know what he smells like, if she’ll ever be able to wash it off as if it permanently marks her skin. 

Would she be okay with that—with having an essence of him burned into her memory? She thinks of those moths. They dive in out of light sockets because they can’t resist the glow. Is it his hoodie that she can’t resist? The color, it’s warmth. Is it him she moves to as he walks in the moon’s magic veil?  

She can hear the buzz of bulbs of lamp posts and wonders if that’s an invitation to speak. She wonders if this is an invitation to wrap her arms around him and sink... to feel warmth where there is none.  

To the moths, the moon is trapped in a lightbulb. To Nesta, the moon is captured on Cassian’s chest, and it might be a perfectly good place to rest her head for a while, if only she did not fear what that would make her feel.  

It’s only as Cassian dips his head to catch her eyes that Nesta realizes she’s been staring at his bright white t-shirt.  

“I can’t take it,” she says.  

“It won’t bite Nesta, what are you afraid of?”  

You, she wants to speak.  

“Your cleaning habits,” she says instead.  

Cassian rolls his eyes, but his hand still reaches out for her, that hoodie grasped in his palm.  

Take it, the gesture says.  

Nesta has never been fond of people telling her what to do.  

~ 

“Cassian walked you home?” Gwyn asks. Nesta tries to hold the hoodie behind her back, but nothing can hide Cassian’s massive sweatshirt in her hands.  

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Emerie says as she rubs a towel through her waves.

Nesta shrugs, “just the first number I saw.”  

But she doesn’t let them ask any more questions before going to her room.  

It’s late after all.  

And in her room, when she’s supposed to be studying, Nesta looks to her bookshelf, then to the window where a white house sprawls across the lawn like a blinding star. The pen is already in her hand when her gaze drifts to paper. She thinks of his name in the corner of the first page and her pen moves across the third where chemical bonds are sprawled in light green.  

I wish I could bottle every moment with you and keep it in a jar. Safe where I can see it.   

~

Stu(died) Tagged List:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430 @unhealthyfanobsession @simpingfornestaarcheron @talkfantasytome  @sayosdreams

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I told you I was back. Also college is hard y’all. I had to write something that captured that. Also every detail about campus was my campus!

Next chapter has tinges of nesta being sad and why so I had to set up some sort of transition.

[velvetvexations]

as a trans person who clearly had Something going on from a young age (mostly just got channeled into "weird kid" in a way that often mostly degendered me), I was still living in a society that from the moment of my birth saw my body and assumed every expectation of girl then woman and worked to enforce that and punish me when I got it wrong be it by my actions and choices or unchangeable traits like simply being fat and not the best at "normal" socialization. Like it was female socialization in the sense that every single path laid out for me before I could choose was a path meant "for a girl" every action I took was assumed to come from a "girl" and responses to those actions stemmed from those understandings. Socialization is a Force, not a fact. I wouldn't tell someone if they're personally male socialized or female socialized or what cause idk everyone's experiences and I'm not the arbiter but I also think that on average people experience(rather than are, which is a big difference of perspective), on a broad scale, an attempt by society to force them into gender roles based on "biology" (however shoddy that may be). male socialization and female socialization are a series of attempts by society, be that parents, family, friends, peers, other adults, etc to enforce gender roles based on agab.

transmisogyny is in most cases a part of male socialization (used on a broad scale to mean the tools used to pressure those asigned male at birth into being/acting like men are "supposed" to act) cause that's baked into kids treated as boys from the beginning to force them into patriarchal masculinity and teach them to perpetuate transmisogynystic ideals. They're shown that acting or being feminine or god forbid being a girl, particularly in bodies viewed as male, is punishable and bad both because society is transmisogynistic and to act as proof of what happens when people don't follow the stated rules of their assigned gender. Society and patriarchy Wants men to abhor the "lesser" because it creates competition and men are supposed to be constantly struggling to prove themselves. It also happens to harm trans women and femmes the most alongside other boys and children treated as boys who can't or won't fit the molds placed upon them. The idea that a person is nothing more than the expectations society enforces upon them is just so reductionist. It's a process people experience not a state of being. Socialization as a term has gotten so pop psych ified, alongside terms like toxic masculinity. Personally, though I wouldn't claim that all trans women and femmes are "male socialized" (there are some trans women and femmes who would describe themselves that way and some who wouldn't, and I'm not about to argue with them about their own lived experiences) I'd say it's fair to frame the mechanics of male socialization when viewed as gender enforcement as a form of transmisogyny(among other things) in and of itself which affects the majority of trans women and femmes on account of them being trans women and femmes who experience transmisogyny

This just makes me think of all the people who are like saying trans men experience misogyny is misgendering them and it's like no, it's just pointing out that transphones misgender people cause they're bioessentialist how does that say anything about trans people themselves?

It's because some people have their sense of self tied to what other people think of them, so if they admit they're treated as something they're not it destroys their sense of identity.

[trixierosewrites]

writeblr intro :3

Hi, everyone, I'm Trixie! I'm a young (but adult) writer and classicist, currently in the middle of publishing my novella, Memento Vivere. I also write short stories and am working on a couple novels! I go by shey/heir neopronouns but if that's too complicated she/they is tolerable too.

My favourite genre is the mystery-murder mystery-crime-thriller-horror area, but I dabble in a lot, including historical and fantasy! I love to write dialogue and I am a compulsive world builder for fantasy, including seven partially made conlangs.

Writing commissions are currently closed, but editing commissions are open.

I'd love to connect with more writers :3

my novella: memento vivere

horror/thriller

will be available as paperback, ebook, and deluxe edition

every single character is a horrible person

high stakes, little time, and a lot of character death >:3

Aidan Whitney, four times ex-prime minister, wakes up chained to a bed in a room with ten other people. The only way to escape? Making accusations that kill the accused, and, if incorrect, kill the accuser.

my short stories and novels below the cut!

my short stories

One Hundred Times, or a retelling of orpheus and eurydice in which orpheus looks back a hundred times for a hundred different reasons with a hundred different reactions

The Wasp, or three polyamorous women trying to make it work in between crime and betrayal

untitled fairy wip, or a first person POV of a somewhat stuck up researcher into the fair folk

"you can't protect her forever" AKA woman offers herself up to be tortured to protect her girlfriend

a crime solving gang of polyamorous women head undercover into a den of crime, magic, sex, drugs, and lies, and come out of it a little less unattached

a failing demon falls in love with a beautiful angel, only to find that things are not as they appear

Blood Dice, or where in a realm not quite real, millie learns to play for her life

For Want of a Ticket (complete), or a western girl runs elaborate scams on strangers, complete with an undertone of sadness (and loneliness)

my novels

my beautiful time travel catastrophe, featuring an obscenely large cast of characters all from different time periods that come together against their will to save the timeline

Trinity, AKA what attempts to be a neutral retelling of hades and persephone, told from three perspectives: hades, persephone, and demeter. the goal of this one is to write what is clearly the same narrative with different perspectives, and ultimately tries to not hold anyone at fault

"the lillian ainsworth murder" AKA a late victorian setting for a murder mystery, featuring repressed gays, mysterious marriages, financial debt, family feuds, and an unsettling promise for revenge

a very rough plan for what is essentially out of timeline parasites that overtake someone's body with the aim of assassinating targets

untitled bacchae-inspired wip, or where an unsuspecting oxford student gets a sinister boyfriend that likes drinks and all-female orgies, and then the murders begin

backwards murder mystery, where a seasoned detective is vindicated when the unsettling up-and-comer officer reveals himself as a serial killer - but why? what does he hope to gain?

untitled heist wip, where magic is rare and highly sought after, used for volatile healing and the most dangerous of weapons, except in england, where it makes the trains run on time. low fantasy featuring found family, crime, family secrets, and mutations that won't stay hidden - this one is in collaboration with my good friend @elizabeth-writes!

[happysparklingshadows]

A Certain Hunger (1/?)

Chapter 1 ✿ Chapter 2

Summary: The people-pleasing Valedictorian, a part of too many clubs, becomes closer to her school's soccer team at the end of her senior year. (Y/n) was always seen as the fat mousy girl in school that was always too kind, and with a mother at home needing to be taken care of, didn't go out much and never had the time to do normal kid things like parties. Her pursuit of having some fun before graduation starts with a party fight. It ends with her in a crashing plane, surrounded only by the girls that seem to always worry about her.

Warnings: 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Alcohol/drug use at a party, Femme WLW! Reader, Plus sized! Reader, Body-shaming (I promise it will not be done often) and perspective of an overweight girl, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother,  General yellowjackets warnings, Possessive/Obsessive behaviors, Dark! Au (however, will be down the line when things get worse for the yellowjackets), All characters are 18 years of age, 18+ story. Um, also some teenage girls and peer-pressuring someone to go to a party if you wanna count that. 

Pairing: Surviving! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Taglist: @star-girl69​ @g1rlsriot @zhivaxo

Word count: 14.5k (Get a snack, drink, and settle in; you're in for a long night.)

Note: Hello! I have been such a massive fan of this show for almost two years, and I have been thinking about this concept for a long time. My idea was if someone was overweight before the crash, how would they be fair in this fight for survival, and what would happen if all the girls started falling for them over time. I have always had a guilty pleasure for Dark! Au or yandereish stories. I was inspired by @oh-so-vulgar’s "No Return" story. I can't recommend more for people to read! Hopefully, this will be a long fic, and I will be writing this as well as an Ellie Williams x reader story. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment and give me your thoughts! If you are interested, I added some visual ideas for the story and the looks for some outfits at the end! 

Sometimes, things have been seen and heard without being lived. Most of the time, people think or talk about different ways they would be in a crisis. Ideas of surviving are separate from surviving.

You know that. You were one of the unlucky few to really understand what it meant to survive at all costs. 

Things that should have been hidden behind the trees, in the valley of mountains, with voices silenced long before man's first breath came to them to set it free. 

Surviving was the easy part for you; the living was the hard part. 

Blood to be split, fat to be rendered, and meat to be cut. The smell of metal and tears were familiar and comforting to you. Sometimes, walking down the aisle of the butcher, trying not to see the meat on display, the smell crept into your nose, and you felt at home. 

A home made up of girls and the wilderness's protection, with care and tenderness for them but bitterness and fear when near them. It was your home for so long, pings of the tragic circumstances consume and convets like witches dancing around a fire. 

You remember what happened to you. You remember how you ended up in the Canadian forest and stayed prisoner on those grounds for 19 months… 19 months without a choice. The only option was survival. To adopt and accept, even fawn, the wild.  

The memories plague the team, and you know that. You know that they still remember and know you as you approach your 43rd birthday. They think about you. And sometimes, you see them around Wiskayok and always find them watching you first. Sometimes you see them as they are, adult women with their own lives, or as teens before the darkness set in for all of you. But sometimes, when you catch their eyes, their darkness stares right back into yours… 

And you feel at home. 

April 1996

The Yellowjackets passed the ball to defense by the teams’ midfield attacker, Allie Jacobs #11, before it was sent to the central midfielder, getting caught by the opposing team. Taissa Turner #8 then passed and kicked the ball…

Your hands write quickly on the pocket notebook on your lap in the crowd of screaming parents and students. Feverishly trying to remember the series of events, trying to remember if Allie dodged 2 or 3 players and if she passed the ball to Taissa before coming to center field of in the defenses field. 

"WHOO!! GO, YELLOWJACKETS!" Your eyes pop up when everyone screams louder, only to find that you missed the last goal from your writing, seeing the team hugging and happily cheering, "We're going to nationals!" 

"Holy shit!" You whisper to yourself as you stand up, clap frantically, and yell your celebrations for your friends. They are going to Nationals! 

A smile crept on your face as you looked at the team; you quickly grabbed the camera next to you and snapped photos of the team celebrating, feeling excitement for them and happiness. As the camera flash wears out, solidifying the moment of pride and unknown tragedy about to fall upon the team, you quickly leave the bleachers and go into the shower room to do the well-loved routine post-game interviews with the girls. 

"Fuck yeah, you guys!" You yell into the locker room as the door slams behind you, walking into the room with the heavy camera hanging from your neck and notes tightly held in your hand. The girls turn from their laughter and celebration together to beam at me. "You guys fucking did it!" 

Van laughed loudly as her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to the group. Lottie and Taissa were talking and stopped, letting you join it. Shauna and Jackie whisper at the end of the lockers, but Shauna waves at you, and you send her one back with a grin. It’s a little odd not being in their huddle and whispering with them, but things changed a lot in the last few years.

"How did we do?" Tai immediately asked you, her smile evident as she opened her locker. Lottie scoffed and rolled her eyes at Taissa. Van's arm was still resting on the curve of your back; her arm seemed to tighten around you for a second before letting go. 

"We fucking did amazing; that is how we did, Tai!" Lottie said as she looked at you, her green eyes scanning yours face quickly before looking into your eyes. You felt a pressure around Lottie, like she had seen right through you and knew all of your dirty secrets; you looked at your shoes before looking back. 

"I completely missed the ending. I was too distracted writing about Allie passing the ball to you." You say to Taissa, her eye shine when you two make eye contact, but a flinch in her lower lip shows her disappointment that you missed the game's ending. 

"Oh, well, Allie lost the ball. I caught it, then I passed it to Jackie. I hit it too hard, so it went high. I thought I lost the game, but Jackie hit the ball with her head into the Goalie." Taissa explained as she grabbed her clothes in her hands; she looked at you as the other two did the same, waiting for you to tell them how they did. 

You smile brightly and fake how impressed you are, playing it up for the girls, as you say with excitement. "Holy shit, I can't wait to write it! It was such a fucking epic game. I guess you guys are going to Seattle! I am so fucking excited for you guys!" 

"Well, aren't you coming?" Lottie cut through. She looked at you with a furrowed brow of confusion. Her arms cross her chest as she looks to the ground, away from me. An annoyance in the air of her tone. "I thought you were coming to take the photos or whatever?"

You feel a wave of fear of disappointing them as you look at your hands; they nervously touch the black camera. "I-i don't know yet. Everything with my parents is so hard to do because they're so old, you know." You say, trying to keep it lighthearted. 

"You never do anything fun!" Van complained as she moved away to her locker now; feeling her absence and lack of heat to your side made you feel even more like you were disappointing the girls. "All you do is work! You do homework, your pictures, and work at Handies. When do you have fun?" 

"Yeah, I haven't seen you at any parties?" Jackie butts in as she and Shauna finally come to their lockers after conspiring in the corner. "Why? Do you not want to be seen with us?" She asks with a dry snort, reminding you of your place in the team's hierarchy. A welcomed outsider. 

You quickly, nervously chuckle, and look at your shoes, not daring to look up. "No, it's not that, Jackie. You guys are my friends, and I would love to party with you all, but-" 

"But what?" Taissa snipped shortly at me as she closed her locker. It seemed almost too aggressive for the matter at hand. Your eyes widened as she looked at you intensely like you were doing them all wrong for not hanging out with them more. You feel yourself folding under pressure. You think you are making your friends mad and can't help it. You wanted to have fun, and they should believe you, but you knew you were never to be seen outside of school and your job at the hardware store.

"It's my mom. You know, the cancer and everything has made it harder for me to get out, but she is doing better." You said as a tight smile came to your lips to try to stop yourself from speaking but failing. "We've-" You stopped yourself from saying the words that always brought tears to your eyes. Luckily, Lottie sees this and knows a little more than the others about everything, from her own prying and questioning, so she saves me by saying. 

"It's okay. We understand that." She says with a kind voice, the tone she always used to reassure everyone, and looks each girl in the eye. Telling them to back off from you. 

You need to fix the awkward tension, not yet realizing that you don't need to always make them happy. You feel the deep urge to be accepted by them. You wanted them to want to be friends with you more and keep being your friend as school ended, you already knew it was a fool's errand, but you couldn't stop the words coming out of your mouth. 

"I think I will go to Randy's party next week. I don't work, and my dad is home; it's perfect!" You smiled at the other girls, hiding the reluctance. 

It was not perfect. You planned on studying for your honors English test that night and rereading the novel for the exam in May. But you didn't want to let the team down again by not going out. 

You come off nervous, and you know that. You know they see the weakness in your words, but they smile all the same understanding they got you to finally say yes. Their eyes soften, and they start to smile again at me. 

"What are you wearing? You need to find yourself a boyfriend." Jackie asked as she looked over to Shauna, who was quietly standing in the group without talking, Shauna's warm brown eyes already looking at you as if she hadn’t moved her eyes in a while. You feel your face warm at the question, a shot of disgust and shame running through you at the thought of picking up a guy, but you smile shyly anyways.

"I don't really know yet. I don't go to parties-" 

"How about we all help you get dressed up? You come to my house with your clothes, and we all can help (Y/n) dress for the party; how do we feel, Yellowjackets?" Jackie asks, cutting me off and looking at the other girls for confirmation. You feel your hands start to get sweaty at the thought of it. You are already insecure at the idea. In childhood, you were talking to the Yellowjackets. You couldn't say no.  

"O-oh!" You say as you feel your body shield yourself, faking a smile smoothly to hide your fear. "Thank you, I would love that. Shauna, could you pick me up? My dad will not drive me to a party." 

Shauna smiled sweetly at me, nodding, "Yeah, but you need to get your license." 

You let out a soft chuckle again as you grab your backpack. You keep trying to flee before you say something else. You give your best smile to the girls and Shauna. "Thanks. I'm trying, but It's the only test I have failed!" You joke, walking out of the locker room. "I'll see you guys at practice Monday!" 

You get a series of goodbyes from the senior girls and walk past the underclassmen with a wave and smile. Marissa and Krystal wave back at you. Allie doesn't notice you as she is talking in the ear of the quiet Junior Akilah. They seemed friendly but so young when you spoke to them, even if you were a few years older. 

You look to your feet as you walk out of the locker room and into the dark hallway of the sports building towards the double doors on the other end; the spring light and sunsetting beams light into the hallway. You keep walking away from the loud muffled sounds of the team laughing in the locker room.

BANG! 

You're head snaps behind you quickly at the loud sound of a broom falling to the ground; you look down the darkened hallway to find the short figure of a person. You knew who it was, and you felt a shiver go down your spine as brown eyes set on your form.

Misty Quigley stood behind a wall and accidentally pushed the broom resting on the wall down. The blonde stood with her hand clenching the wall with her chin resting on her hand; she was looking down the hall you were going down. She jumped back at the sound and nervously looked back at you. She looked like she was peeking down. 

"Misty! Jesus, girl, you almost gave me a heart attack!" You proclaim down the hall to the blonde. You kept your voice as friendly as it could be. Your hand comes to your chest to hold your rapidly beating heart. 

Misty readjusted her wide glasses on her nose with her hand, a little quirk you noticed over time, and she blinked her eyes rapidly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I-I was just coming over to-" 

"Misty, It's all good! Don't worry so much!" You said with a smile, deciding to leave this place as soon as possible. The air was tense in a way that you couldn't put down, not really believing Misty but not wanting her to know that. "I'm heading out. My dad is waiting for me in the truck. Sorry, I squealed." You joked to her as you started to walk back to the doors. 

She was always kind to you; out of principle, you were kind back. It didn't matter that she would talk your ear off about the teams jerseys or different cat breeds. You always gave her an ear when you were near her, and the opportunity opened by you. It always felt awkward around Misty without saying hi and being kind. You knew how people saw her and understood why they sometimes acted the way they did with her. You felt the weight of her unsettling gaze and overbearing nature when she never took your nos to her requests of hanging out without trying to pressure you into it. However, she didn't have the pull like the other girls did with you. You pitied her and felt the need to be nice to her because of how mean people have been to her unjustified. Even when it was hard to ignore her ways sometimes. 

"O-oh, don't worry, you made a pretty squeal!" Misty recovered with a voice you could tell she put honey on, and you felt your skin itch at that. Why did she say it like that? 

"See you Monday, Misty!" You say as you quickly open the doors to the building and rush out of there as soon as possible. Seeing your dad's car and you run over, knowing your shift at Handies, the hardware store, would start quickly. 

You walk down the street with the lights guiding you home. You held your purse strap while holding your house keys in hand, not caring about the nighttime setting as you have walked home from work every night. You smoke the short cigarette before coming to the house, knowing your mother can't smell anymore, as you throw the butt to the ground. Stepping on it in your stride. You quickly come to your house, open your door, and walk inside. 

Across the street, the shallow pants of a girl rustle behind the pine tree from the house right across the way. Fingers grip the tree with the knuckles turning white with pressure; intense, sharp eyes look at you. A small happy giggle emerges as your body vanishes into the suburban home. You still do not notice them after they follow you through the town and park, trailing behind and changing paths to see you get home safely. "Goodnight, (Y/n), goodnight." the voice says under their breath as she saunters from the tree back to their home. Like they did every night you worked. 

The warm light of your childhood home surrounds you as you close the door behind you. You take off your shoes and coat, saying, "I'm home!"

"Good, Good. (Y/n), I've missed you today." Your mother says from the living room. You walk in and see the tv playing the new episode of Frasier, the colorful glow from the tv light consumed the living room with life. "Turns out Frasier has a lot of stations around America, and he is making the radio show national. It's ridiculous." She said with a dry chuckle at the end, her voice rasping as she looked at you. You push the hair behind your ear as you walk closer to her. 

Your mother and father were in their 40s when they had you. They were convinced they would never have children, but you came as a welcomed and loved surprise to the couple. Although they weren't young to play with or chase after you, they always found ways to connect with you. Your mother was a hippie at Woodstock, always claiming she met Janis Joplin backstage, and wanted you to feel loved by her. However, like most mothers, she did have her moments of bitterness. Your father is not so much a hippie. He was a challenging and rigid man who took you out to national parks and fished with you in the summer on the ocean with the small boat he saved up for. Your father was more a man set in his ways; in how his father raised him, he was more distant and worked a lot. Although it was clear that they both loved you, it doesn't stop the fact that they hurt you intentionally or unintentionally, and you feel distant from them. It wasn't fair, and it eats at you. Your parents were good people, but life isn't fair. 

In your junior year of high school, your mother was diagnosed with stage 4 cervical cancer, and it felt like your world flipped upside down. Your father wasn't home much anymore, scared to see his wife slowly disappearing from the therapies and medicine, working every night out of "Bills need to be paid, (Y/n), what do you want from me?". You sat in the living room as your mother whispered to your father at the table, them talking about how they would tell you, not knowing you silenced the tv to hear them. As you silently cry, your heart is torn, ripping in the middle with small muscles connecting the two. 

Your mother was given 8 months to live. You didn't choose to become your mother's caretaker, but you didn't feel like there was any other way to be anymore. You couldn't let your mother feel alone as she died. You knew that she must be more scared than you were. So, there you were for her as you did your homework and ran back home to make sure she took her medicine before going in for a closing shift. You didn't want her to be alone in her last few months. It felt wrong. You blamed yourself somehow. Angry and bitter at the world, you decided to hide behind a mask of being strong. You knew your parents were old, constantly reminded of the fact with their groans and cracks, and you knew it was more than average for women in their 60s with infertility issues to get cancer. You helped your mother move, dress, eat, and sleep. Nothing you could do to shake her in your mind. You comforted your mother as her hair fell out and when she said she was now ugly, you gave her a straw with her drinks even when her throat was strong enough to sip, and you never forgot to tell her you love her with every goodbye. Times of medicine burned in your mind, and the fear of her being in pain pushed you through the months. Believing she would die any day as she lost all her weight, color, and life. She lay on the hospital bed in the living room with her hands weakly lying on the pillows you placed under them. Her breaths never seemed to calm as they raddled when she slept. 

As of tonight, it has been a year and three months since her diagnosis, and your mother's face has gained more color every day in the last few months. We knew she wouldn't live long, but at least it was longer. 

You sat down in your father's recliner next to the hospital bed she lay in, her bed table over her fragile body with an embroidery circle in her hand. A smile comes over your face as you grab the pill organizer, pull out her nighttime pills, handing them to her as your eyes keep looking back to the tv. "I'd rather watch Friends." 

"Well, that is because you are young. You don't understand the comedy yet." She said with a smirk, shaking her bold head to you. She puts the pills on the small table, her thin fingers working a red string through the white fabric. She looks down at her work with her reading glasses at the bottom of her nose, "I'm making a robin." 

I look over her shoulder at the half-finished red bird. You smile. You subtly grab her glass of water on the coffee table and put the metal straw inside, handing it to her. 

Your mother sighs as she puts the 9 pills in her mouth and the glass from you, sipping on the straw dramatically. She opens her mouth to you in an annoyed act. "Happy?" 

"Very. How was your night?" You asked her as you got up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, your dinner on the island. 

"Alright, your father is working late. I made some fish tonight." She says loudly back to you. You already walking back to the living room. You sit back down on the recliner and set the dinner on your lap. "How was school?" 

"It was good. The Yellowjackets won the game, and John was nice to me tonight, which is weird, but happy he was anyways." You say as you start cutting into your meal with your fork, eating politely in the chair. 

"That's good that he was nice for once. I don't like that guy."

"You just don't like him because he yelled at me like one time." 

"That's enough to not like someone." Your mother bluntly said with a chuckle. You chuckle back as both of your attention come back to the tv. 

The following week of school, work, and clubs blended the days together. You came to school on Thursday, the night of the rush party at Randy's parents' summer house, and it was all you could think about. You dreaded it slowly because of the unfamiliar setting of a party, but you decided to have fun. "Just have fun, (Y/n)!" you repeatedly tell yourself when you want to cancel. 

You were walking into the school's center, crossing to get your camera to go to practice. You were surprised to see the seniors together, you smile as you walk into the conversation, but it drops as soon as you come to the circle. 

"This is what we've worked for all season." Taissa hissed, defensiveness and ambition speaking through her at Lottie and Natalie. "You really wanna take that chance?"

"Yeah," Natalie responded curtly. "'cause I'm not a fucking asshole."

"Why are you guys talking about?" Shauna asked. I look over at her, and she looks over at me; she asks me with my eyes as she walks into this conversation. I shrugged at her in our small exchange of information.

There was a pause and moment of silence that fell upon the group. No one is willing to answer the question.

Finally, Lottie spoke, her hand behind her neck. "Allie." She says awkwardly as she seems unsure what to say after confessing. Shauna looked over to her as I looked at Tai, who refused to look me in the eye. 

"What about her?" Shauna asks.

"Did you black out at states?" Tai scoffs. "She totally choked-"

"She's a freshman, Tai," Natalie cuts in.

"She's a liability," Tai snapped. Her eyes scan all of you, trying to find support for her decision. "She can't screw up if she doesn't get the ball."

"You wanna freeze her out?" Shauna asks.

"At least we'd know what we're working with," Tai says.

"She kind of sucks, but…." Lottie trails off with her eyes looking over to Allie across the way, unaware of the plans for her. "I don't know."

"That's because it's bullshit," Natalie says, her voice filled with disbelief, her hands raised up.

"Oh, yeah? What's your plan, then?" Tai asks in mock interest.

Natalie drops her hands. "I don't know. Play like a fucking team and win?"

Now, both are entirely silent as they stare the other down. You feel your hands grow clammy as you think the confrontation getting to you, you hated being in the middle of these things, but you handled yourself raising a voice. 

"It's worked so far."

"Everything works until it doesn't."

She looks Natalie up and down.

"And for the record, you smell… like a wino. Get your shit together."

You feel yourself grow a face of disgust for Taissa when she says that to Natalie. To you, it seemed utterly disrespectful. 

"You know what? Fuck this."

"Wow. Okay," Tai says. You turn your body to Tai as you finally look her in the eye. 

"That was completely uncalled for, Tai." You say with your tone coming out for meek than you were hoping. "Natalie has a right to not agree with you, and you just offend her when she doesn't back down. Seriously uncool, dude." 

Taissa's eyes look hurt from your words like she had been yelled at. It's clear that your comments got her, but Lottie says to us before following after Natalie, "Doesn't feel right." 

"Jackie's not gonna like it," Shauna says.

"Then we probably shouldn't tell her," Tai responded quickly as her eyes were fixed on you, scanning and watching every micro-expression on your face. You look to your feet; you didn't like the energy of all this, and Tai excluding Jackie, gave you a bad taste in your mouth.  

Tai walks off suddenly, leaving you and Shauna to turn and look at each other after walking into that chaos. 

As the two walked away, Shauna smiled as she walked with you to the yearbook room. She was asking once again if her college entrance letter was okay. You almost completely forget about the discussion about Allie when Shauna nervously questions if she sounded smart enough in her paper. 

"Shauna, your paper was amazing. It was heartfelt but formal and mature. We went over that thing three times; we even got that movie from Blockbuster that the tutors have. You. Are. Fine." You stated with a playful tone, slightly annoyed at her nervousness but just playing it off like always. 

"I know, but it is Brown!"

"Shauna, you are second to Valedictorian and got a 34 on the ACTs! You will get in. Trust the universe on this one." You reassure and smile. Putting the camera around your neck, you lock the door behind you.

"Okay, okay, I'll try." 

"Good. You will get in, and if you don't, you will go to Ken State with Jackie." You say and put an arm around her shoulder as you walk to the field. 

You only remember a little from that last practice day. You sat down on the benches like you always do, said hello to Misty and the Coach, and started to write a few words into your notebook for your graduation speech. 

You have had difficulty putting down the words about how you felt about leaving high school. Like, what would happen to you? To your friends? It scared you, but you didn't know how to say that, and you didn't have enough nerve, to be honest with how you wanted to stay there longer somehow. Not high school, but the comfortable and carefree life that you had in high school. 

You bit your lip as you tried to focus, but soon a blood-curdling scream came to the field. You look up and see Misty sprinting across the area to Allie on the ground, holding her leg. She wails loudly as she cradles the bleeding wound on her leg. You look closer and see a sharp broken bone poking out of her skin, blood sliding down the curve of her leg, landing on the grass. 

Your hand comes to your mouth, and you feel yourself feel disguised. Disguised by the blood, wounded cries, and disgusted by Taissa. You know deep down that she would never intentionally hurt the freshmen girl, but she had bad intentions. You just didn't think she would go this far. 

You grab your things quickly from around you as you look away from the girl. Away from the yellowjackets swarmed around Allie. You felt sick as you run away from the field and from the responsibility of this accident.

"Peanut, can you come in here?" You hear your mother call from her hospital bed in the living room. You come down the stairs with a bag full of clothes for Jackie to dress you later. 

"Yes? What's up, Mom?" You say softly as you come down the stairs. You come to the living room doorway. 

Your mom sat in the hospital bed with the tv turned off, her reading glasses perched low on her skinny nose. She had a paper and pen on the bedtable and a couple bills. Your eyes widen at the amount you see. It's the price of groceries. "Come in here with me for a moment. I have been meaning to talk to you." 

You quiet and move to sit in the chair next to her. You felt nervous as you sat down. You didn't know why you would be in trouble, and you hadn't done anything in so long that you did understand why she would sit you down. You couldn't stop the nerves with your eyes.

Your mom chuckles as she takes her glasses off. She then looks at her hands with a long pause. "(Y/N), I have taken a lot from you. I am really sorry."

"You don't have to-" 

"No, I am sorry. Truly am because this is supposed to be the time of your life, and you have been caring for me. And I can't thank you enough, baby, for caring for me." Your mother choked up in the moment of genuine reflection. She cupped her mouth as she tried to hide the quivers and how her cheek grew hot from her emotions. "I wanted to say that I signed the slip for you to go to Seattle with the bumblebees or whatever. Your dad gave me $65 to give you. I want you to get yourself-

"Mom, I can't. Who is going to take care of you?" You interrupt her, and you feel yourself get emotional. You shouldn't go, the money should be used for bills, and you should be home with your mom. 

"No, you are going. I want you to have fun. You have been taking care of me nonstop since the beginning. Okay, let me take care of you, just this last time." She reassured. She pushed a baby hair off your forehead, tears in both eyes, "You have worked so hard and have been such a grown-up. I don't like it. I just want you to do something fun for once. If I was 18, I would have begged my mom to let me go to Seattle with all my little friends. It's all settled. All you have to do is give this to that coach and pack a bag."

She slides the folded paper and the money on top. She smiles as she wipes a tear that rolls down her thin cheek. "Peanut, I really want you to go on this field trip. Please, let me do this for you. Dad will take care of me. We already figured it out. It's only 4 days. Just do it for me." Your mom says again, trying to pressure you into accepting her words and killing your worries.

You nod your head with tears in your eyes. You were so happy to be given a break and to be allowed to spend so much on yourself. You feel so excited and light, but there is dread building in your stomach. 

"Okay. I will. I really wanted to go."

"I know. It will be so much fun, but please stay away from those spring break guys, okay. All they are is body oil and semen." She said as she pushed another hair behind your ear this time. She doesn't know you wouldn't be talking to any man. She didn't know that her daughter wasn't right. 

You chuckle and wipe a tear. You push her hand away and stand up. "Okay, I will stay clear of spring breakers." You say you feel your pager buzz in your pocket. You pull it out to see your pager flash dully with "Shauna Shipmen, 473-299-0876." 

"Shit, my ride is over. I am sleeping over at Shauna's tonight-"

"Baby, have a good time at the party." Your mom said as she turned the Tv back on with the remote. She looks at you with a mischievous glance. "You think I never had a change of clothes before a party? Honey, you don't have to sleep over anywhere. Just come home when you are done. You should better get out of here before your father comes back. He will smell you out within a minute."

You laugh nervously at her. You rush to get your shoes on before she doesn't act so cool; you tie your boots quickly as you leave the house to Shauna's car. "I love you; see you later, Mom." 

"See you later, Peanut." 

You nervously hold the red solo cup as you hover around Van at the rush party. You couldn't hear much over the noise and music; you didn't mind as you let yourself melt into the party. You danced slightly with the girls as you sipped on the beer in the cup. You were trying to be fun. 

You came to this party with Shauna and Jackie because Jackie’s constantly insisted that she needed to help you dress, and you had to admit you looked lovely. You were planning on wearing just some jeans and a top, but Jackie made you wear a thin turtle neck with a pink dress, flowers faded in the design, with tights and boots. You let Shauna do you're makeup because Jackie got to dress you. Shauna's big brown eyes stared at your face, softly brushing powders and rubbing eyeliner. You felt her breath hit your lips as she focused on your mascara, her eyes noticed your stare, and it made her pause. Jackie quickly broke the forming heating with our eyes from her, pulling out an ugly cat sweater you had hidden in your wardrobe. You hid your shaking breath by laughing and saying your dad found it for you. You only wear it to bed. "I would look like misty or something?" You joked and immediately felt bad as you all laughed, you felt terrible for bringing Misty up to laugh about her, but you wanted to hide. 

When you got to the party, Jackie and Shauna left you to go into their worlds with Jeff's friends. You wandered around until You found Lottie and Van. You came to hover around your friends. They smiled at you and handed you a new solo cup of beer. You sip on it and smile at them. Lottie and Van giggle and look over at you, Van pulling you into their space with a firm hand on my shoulder. 

"We're going to go to the woods, come!" Van says to you in your ear, her nose slightly nudging your skin from the closeness. You feel nervous in your stomach as your hands clam up around the plastic cup, and your face gets hot from her breath, hitting your neck softly. You follow Van with a nervous giggle, unaware of how the girls are feeling and looking at you. Lottie follows behind you, her eyes locked at the back of your head as she studies how you styled your hair. She wondered if she got closer to what the strands felt under her fingers and what it would smell like. Soap, sweat, or was it just you and your own scent. 

Van stops you, and Lottie comes to your left with a huge smirk. Van pulls a joint out of her pocket as she presents it to you. Your eyes widen with a beam. "Oh?"

"Oh indeed!" Van said back with a smile; she put it in her mouth as she looked over to Lottie for a lighter. Lottie shook her head as she looked at you. 

As soon as the papery filter lands on your lips, you see the figure come behind Van with an arm wrapping around her shoulder. You look up to see Taissa and feel your lips pursed without you doing anything. Taissa was so wrong for the whole Allie situation, and you felt conflicted. 

"Not going to say Hi to me?" Tai asked mockingly, but you knew under it all she was insecure. 

You pass the joint to Lottie as you blow the smoke. "Hi." You flatly say to Tai. 

"Come on, not you too-" Tai scoffed as she stood more straight. Tai seemed insecure, and you could see how she was getting defensive. 

"Tai, I am not judging you. I understand why you did it; you explained yourself well the other day. I know you didn't mean to hurt her like you did." You say as you feel the group has tension between them. Van and Lottie awkwardly look at each other to communicate their uncomfortable energy. Tai keeps her eyes trained on you as you speak your mind. "Tai, I, and We know that you would never hurt her intentionally to have her bone pop out. But it happened, and you planned to get her out of the Nationals. You need to apologize to her when we return from nationals." 

"(Y/n), maybe we don't need to talk about this right now? Maybe we just party tonight and worry tomorrow?" Lottie cuts in, and you feel yourself get annoyed at that. You quiet down as the joint comes back to you. 

"I said my mind." You said, sounding more confident than you were. You nervously look at Tai, who is quiet and looking to the ground. "Tai, We're friends, and I don't think I would be a good one for letting you off the hook for that. I care too much to let that go. You might have destroyed Allie's ability to play ever again because you got too ambitious." 

"I know. It was an accident." Tai said, still looking at the ground. You felt her shame in herself at that moment as her lip slightly quivered as she spoke. 

You take a puff of the joint and hand it to Lottie. You then step into Taissa's space and hug her quickly. "Hey! I know that. I am just saying it was just bad vibes all around. I know it was an accident." You reassure, now feeling horrible for talking about it all together. 

Van takes a deep puff of the weed and makes a face as she tries to keep the smoke in her lungs. As she nods her head, you're eyes lock into her as Tai's arms wrap around your waist. Van's red eyebrow furrows briefly before Tai's hair blinds you. "Okay. I just feel like shit, you know." 

"I know. I don't mean to make it worse." You say to Tai's ear. As you squeeze your friend, you know you will be the nicest to her when the others confront her. You let your eyes go to Lottie, who knew about all this; you knew that Van was probably thinking I was being hard on Tai for no reason. 

You take the joint passed to you as she smokes it; Tai sniffed, putting back the tough act as she touched her nose with a finger. You felt like you couldn't look away from her now. “(Y/n) (L/n) smokes weed?” Tai asked in a snarky tone. 

"Yeah, and crack, but no one has presented it yet, so." You joke with a goofy smile coming to your face against your control. The weed coming over you as you start to giggle, Van and Lottie following suit. "Oh, my god!" You gasped as you looked at the other high girls.

"What?" Lottie asked with big eyes, paranoid. Van laughs again at Lottie's face, leaning onto Taissa's shoulder. 

"You guys are doing drugs before nationals!" You laugh out loud. 

"Oh shit!" Van says as if she just realized it as Lottie cackles. 

You felt yourself space out a bit; you looked into the woods further as Taissa started to tell the girls off for getting distracted. You let the noise muffle as you stare into the darkness of the trees, not seeing beyond 20 feet ahead of you; although the sight was unsettling, it seemed to lull you as well. Grounded you. The memories of childhood with your parents in national parks and your dad forcing you to face the darkness were a comfort. One of your favorite memories was so simple; Two years before your mother had cancer, you all went out to the Rocky Mountain Trail on vacation, You and your dad were fishing, and your mother was sitting beside you both with her feet in the water, your dad was just spitting out the worse jokes and puns he could think of, and you both tried not to laugh. You all broke when your dad when silent and simply won by farting. 

You feel your lips curl to smile at the memory of your family as Lottie's hand curls into your elbow; you turn to her. 

"(Y/n), I want a cigarette. You want a cigarette?" Lottie says with an airy tone, her eyes wider than average. You knew she was very high as you giggled. 

"You know what?" You said as you opened your purse, pulling out the pack. 

"Holy shit, you smoke cigarettes, too? What else does our Doris Day do behind closed doors." Van jokes dryly. You couldn't help but smirk as you light your cigarette. 

"You're a dick, you know what," you say as you hand the cigarette to Lottie; she says a soft thank you as you pull another to your lips. "What do you think I do while I write?" 

"I don't know, maybe write?" Tai says as she drinks from her solo cup. 

You roll your eyes, looking at Lottie, "What do you say we lose these losers?" You joke to her with a smile. 

She smokes the cigarette as her eyes scan over your face quickly. Her eyes look to your lips and sharply look up as she says, "I thought you'd never ask." 

"Hey, what the fuck!" Van asks, mocking offended as the two of you walk away from them. You and Lottie hold hands and laugh. You loved the playful way Lottie walked away with you like you were running away together. Your hands are linked together as you get closer to the music and back to the party's life. 

You pursed your lips as you started dancing when you felt the music. "Fuck, I love this song!" You say to Lottie as you bring the cigarette to your lips. 

Lottie puts the cigarette in her mouth as she takes your hands with hers to dance together, which you do without question. It felt like the music was dancing through you, and you weren't really dancing, not caring how your body moved or how other's see you. It was fucking liberating to dance with your friend in the spring breeze, weed in your lungs, and a cigarette in your mouth.

Van and Tai come out of the woods a moment later, smiling together and their hands touching, but quickly moving away as they come to where you were. You caught them, and they didn't notice; you're happy they did. You felt something close to bitterness when you thought about how much you wanted that. You have kissed a few girls, but not one wanted to be with you; they claimed they weren't "that type of girl. I am normal." they soon pushed you away to never see the girl that made them feel something more. You just became a memory for them, and you were replaceable. You were well kept a secret. 

You wanted someone. But you also wanted to be accepted. You would never admit it, but you sometimes thought about maybe just finding some nice guy and giving it a try at being "normal." Kissing boys felt flat, sexless, and odd when you spun the bottle at parties, but in those dark corners where you were pressed against a wall by a woman, it felt like fire. It was warm and bright, making you see clearly and freely, but it burned. It burns like wax, something shocking and hot, something warm and sensual, but it soaks in and scolds after a while. So, in your junior year, you decided to stay single until college because you couldn't imagine the people in your hometown finding out you were gay. You felt a hot wave of dread when you thought about it, not that you were ashamed or accepting because you knew how everyone saw gay girls. You wouldn't be able to go into the locker room anymore with your friends, you wouldn't be able to go to sleepovers, and you wouldn't be able to touch even your friends. 

You feel sober quickly at the moment of overthinking. You look around and realize you forgot your solo cup of beer, so you just say to Lottie, "I'm getting a drink." 

"Okay!" Lottie said with a chuckle; she took a deep drink from her solo cup. 

You stumble away as you feel a sadness come over you; insecure thoughts and memories of scorned love affairs go to you now. You come to the keg in the middle of the party, and you lean over the keg to the plastic cups. 

A hand lands on your hip, rubbing the skin as it gently moves to your lower back. You look to see Taissa and feel your breath get stuck in your mouth. You look up at the tall girl with a softness; you know she would never really do something so cruel, like meaning to hurt Allie like that. At least, that is what you told yourself.  

"I admire your resilience, Tai. It can't be easy, knowing fucking crippled someone today," Shauna says to Taissa when she walks to the keg. You snap your head to Shauna, hoping she didn't notice how your eyes looked at Taissa's face. Shauna did notice; it was the reason for her coming up to the two of you in the first place.

"Cool. Good talk." Tai says back to her, and she moves away with an arm around your shoulders. 

"Just admit it. You did it on purpose!" Shauna yelled at Taissa, pointing her finger at Tai. You looked at Shauna with wide eyes as you felt Taissa's arm hold you tighter. 

"Excuse me!" 

"You heard me. "

"You're wasted," Tai says to Shauna with a judgmental narrowing of her eye. 

"And you're a fucking sociopath!" Shauna hissed back; you pulled away from Taissa and looked at both girls. 

"Woah!" Van cut in. "Calm down." 

"Yeah, let's just take a breath, Shauna; why don't we-" you try to say and keep the peace but are interrupted. 

"No! Listen, you guys, we don't have to worry about the Allie problem anymore because Taissa fixed it for us." Shauna mocked, her hands up in fake surrender as she narrowed her eyes at Taissa. The two were going to fight. 

"What?" You heard Laura Lee say behind you. "What is she talking about?" 

"She's talking about Taissa's little plan." Natalie chimed in from the back; you lock eyes with her as you look to her to explain why Shauna is aggressive toward Taissa. She doesn't know. 

"Oh, please. Since when do you give a shit anyways? Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck-" 

"Holy shit, Tai, Why would you say that to her!" You yell at Tai as Shauna says at the same time, "Don't talk to her that way!" 

"Oh, fuck off, Shauna, I don't need you to defend me; last time I checked, you were fine with the whole "freeze her out" strategy." Natalie spat back, she held a cup, and her eyes looked more dilated than more in flames. 

"Okay, seriously, what are you talking about?" Laura Lee asked the group; you felt annoyed at her prying, but you didn't say anything before the others growled, "Shut the fuck up, Laura Lee!" 

"No, no, no; stop it!" Van panics when she sees the tears in Laura's eyes. You move over to the sweet girl, and you wrap an arm around her, "Hey, they didn't mean it." You say to her tearful self as you hear the fight continue. 

"Someone needs to take her wasted ass home!" Tai yells to Shauna. 

"You wanna say that again bitch. Say that again." Shauna growled back; you moved away from Laura Lee and got into the middle of the two girls, now trying to claw at the other, with Van. 

"That's it! That is enough!" Jackie runs in; she yells at all of us, starting to fight each other. We all pause. "Yellowjackets, with me!" 

Shauna and Taissa were the first to rush to Jackie, and you felt yourself being left behind with a few others that didn't get into the fight. 

You put a cigarette into your mouth quickly, and lighting it, you look at Natalie, who wore a similar face of frustration. You nudge your pack to her, and she takes one with a grin. 

"Thank you, pretty lady," Natalie says as she follows Jackie like everyone else, you follow behind her. 

"Anytime, sexy thing." You say to her with a smirk; you bump her with your hip as you get to Jackie first. 

Jackie looked confused and annoyed as she looked at all of you together in the woods again. "I don't know what the fuck that was, but I do know that it is over. We're about to go to nationals. And based on what I'm looking at right now, we might as well not even bother getting on that plane. Alright. Everybody line up."

No one moves. 

"No, I am fucking serious lineup. Here is what we are going to do. I want each and every one of you to say one nice, true thing about every girl on this team."

"What is this, the fucking Girl Scout camp?" Tai whispers, and you chuckle with Van. You felt a smile come to your high face as you stand up before Laura Lee. 

"I will go first." You say happily. 

"Go ahead, (Y/n), take the floor. Thank you" Jackie smiled as she moved for you to stand beside her. 

You stand there and smile; you take a puff of your new cigarette as you take a stand in front of the group. 

"Okay, Jackie Taylor, I admire your sense of style and how much you do as the team leader you are. Although I am not on the team, I can see you work so hard at it every day." 

Jackie smiles with a blush; she didn't expect you to say anything to her. She nodded her head, and she said, "(Y/n) (L/n), you seriously are the nicest girl I have ever met before. I have never met someone with so much compassion for others; I admire that. Also, you look fucking great in that dress, doesn't (Y/n) look fucking amazing?" Jackie says to you and points out the outfit. You smirk as the others come to admire your dress and done-up hair; you spin for them to see with a laugh escaping your mouth. They whistle at you jokingly and little cheers about your cute outfit. 

You smile and say thank you to Jackie before she can say more. You move to Shauna, and you smile widely at her. "Shauna Shipmen, you know I love you bitch. You are crazy in a fun way, and you make things so much better by being around." 

"(Y/n) (L/n), you are wicked smart. I have never met someone who could get a 100 in trigonometry with Mrs. Goldmen!" She says to you, and you giggle at her words, shaking your head. You then move down the line of awaiting girls. 

"Taissa Turner, you are so smart and very assertive. I wish I could be as confident as you when you know you are right; you would be an amazing lawyer." 

"I admire your fairness and how you don't judge when you do disagree. You always do what is right even when it's annoying." Tai says to you and playfully pushes your shoulder; you smirk and shake your head at her. You laugh at her call you annoying when she is supposed to be kind to you, but you didn't expect Taissa to drop the tough girl act.  

"Laura Lee, there is not a single person I know that is as Faithful and kind as you. I haven't ever really heard you say anything hateful or mean, which is hard to find. You are truly so fucking Christian, and I love that for you because you have never hated anyone for their differences."

"(Y/n), you have excellent writing skills and are the only part of the newspaper I read. Your photos are outstanding like they always bring my eyes to them. 

"You only say that because you know I am the one that took them." You laugh at her as she does too. She shook her head and said, "No, they are excellent!" 

You shake your head and move to Van; she is already doing that cheesy smile you always seem to gravitate towards. You smile back and come a little closer to Van; no one notices how you feel the heat of her body in that innocent way you stand to her. 

"Vanessa Palmer, I wish I was as funny as you. Sometimes I don't think anything I say sounds funny, and every word out of your mouth is fucking funny. You are the one person I come to to get me smiling again when I am sad." 

Van's cheesy face falls to a softer one that melts her heart. She nodded and said, "(Y/n), there is no other person I know that is funnier than you. Don't you remember when you told us about catching Scott Lulson jacking it with ketchup in the yearbook room? I snorted out my milk!" She remained as she laughed. You follow her before being pushed away by Jackie to talk to Van. You move to Natalie, she is already smirking at you, and you do the same. 

Natalie was one of those friends you flirted with and touched sometimes; however, it was never pushed more than just the daring "drunk" kiss at Spin the Bottle once last year. 

"Natalie Scatorccio, I love how authentic you are and how you don't give a fuck about what anyone thinks. You're a fucking badass, and you know it. Nobody can fuck with you." You say as you puff the end of the cigarette, throwing it to the floor and stepping on it. Natalie smirked at you with her eyes seemingly blown out. 

"(Y/n)," Natalie whispered to you and stepped closer, "you know how beautiful you are to me." 

"I do." 

"You do?" She asked in a condescending reassuring voice; she was teasing me. I laugh and put my hand on her upper arm; I look at her face and say, "You are so wasted, Nat! How do I know what you're saying is true, huh?" 

"You saying my love for you isn't pure?" Natalie laughed; she looked at your face with a raised eyebrow. But before you can speak, she cuts you off by saying, "Cuz it's not pure. Never been pure with you." she whispers at the end, with a bit to her lower lip.  

You burst out laughing as you feel your face get hot. You push her for shoulder playfully, feel like she is flirting with you a little too well, and feel the energy coming off of you and her at that moment. You move away to Lottie when Taissa moves to talk to Natalie; you send her a kiss as you move away. You and Natalie laugh at each other I that moment. 

"Lottie Matthews, you are so kind and understanding. I know you always have my back when I need to cry and have always been so supportive." You say to Lottie and lean on her shoulder, tired from the party. She sighs and looks down at you with a smile. 

"(Y/n), You are really responsible. I think you work hard at everything and take so much responsibility for so much in your life. You kick ass." Lottie giggled at you as she hugged you back. She whispers into your ear, "You wanna ditch this place and go home after we're done with this Kumbaya bullshit? I'll give you a ride." 

"I would suck your dick if you had one." You reply quickly to her in a whisper, and you both giggle intoxicatedly together. 

You sat in the passager seat of your father's truck. Your father was a quiet, kind, funny man but never one to start a conversation, and his knuckles were worn from years of work. 

You don't even try to notice how his veins pop from his skin or how his hands look his age more than his face, and you really try not to see how his hair has gotten more grey. But, you do notice the dreading annoyance of being in the car with him. 

He wasn't there like he used to be. He wasn't this superhero you thought he was. He was just a man, an old man whose wife was dying slowly, and he didn't have enough money to stop working until he was 70. He didn't deserve that. But he didn't need to always be working and never be at the house anymore; he didn't need to not be there for you when your mother was dying. He wasn't as strong as you thought. And it crushed you a long time ago. 

"You all packed?" He asked you as you entered the airport's parking lot. 

"Yeah." You say quietly. You play with the buttons on your flannel. "Mom made me check a few times." 

"You have an extra pack-"

"Of underwear, just in case." You finish his sentence, a well-known saying in your house for when you go camping. You always pack three pairs. One to wear, one as a spare, and another for reserve. 

He chuckled as he got into the drop-off line and looked over to you with a stoic face, but you knew he was having a deep emotion come over him. "You going to Seattle?" 

"Yes, I'm going to Seattle, Dad." You said to him, a little confused with him. 

He was quiet as he looked back to the steering wheel of the '78 Chevy. He picked at his nails, his hands calloused and his nails rounded from years of anxiously biting them, "You got that Swiss with you?" 

"Yes, Dad. I always have it in my pocket; why?" 

"You just don't have anyone to protect you-" 

"Dad, I have my friends; I will be fine. It's just for four days; I'll be okay." 

"I just don't trust them to protect you." He said with his head shaking a little as he crawled the car closer to the entrance of the building. "I don't really like you not being home." 

You roll your eyes to yourself softly as you look at the truck's floor. You look at your tied shoes deeply as you say to reassure, "Dad. I will be fine. Guys like the coaches and their kids are coming with us to protect us."

"There is a boy going with you?" He said with a raised eyebrow. Your father's fatal flaw was his fear of you becoming a teen mother. He was dead serious and mean about boys with you, trying to scare you away from them, and it just became more annoying to listen to. "I don't know it. I want you to go now that a boy is going too." 

"Dad, I'm pretty sure he is in 7th grade. I would sigh and push a 7th grader away. Don't go there." You say softly, already grabbing the bags from the back. Your dad rolled his eyes at the slang and at the fact you were right. You were a big girl and weren't easily overpowered, but you were still a little girl to him. 

He lets the car fall to silence again, and you don't stop him. You wanted to run out of the car with the ticket but waited to say goodbye. This is the first time you will be so far away from home and your parents. You were so excited and nervous to get on the plane. 

As you come closer in the line to the section of the drop-off, your dad looks over at you. He is emotional, his face is blank, but his eyebrows are furrowed subtly, his eyes watery,  and he clears his throat as he scans the airport entrance. 

“(Y/n).” 

“Yes, Dad?” 

"Make good decisions." He says stiffly. He looks over at you, and his rough comforting hand comes to the side of your face to touch your face. You didn't know what to do but look at your father in the face. "Can you call us when you land? I'll pay for the payphone." He says to you softly. 

"Yeah, of course, Dad." You smile at him and move away to get out of the car. Too excited to stay in that quiet car, seeing your friends coming into the building from a few cars out. Before you close the door, you stop and look at your dad again, him clearly not okay with you leaving; you say, "I love you. I will see you in a few days; take care of Mom for me." 

"I love you too, peanut." He says before you close the door on him. You race over to Shauna, who is walking in; you pump into her from behind, making you two laugh. You didn’t think twice to look back to your dad as he drove away, you always regretted not looking back to your father. 

You listen to music as you put your duffle, carry-on, and little box luggage into the overhead compartment. Your eyes are wide, and you scan the expensive first-class seating of the plane. You feel Van push you lightly to the seats to annoy you as she walks past you; you huff and go her back, which makes her laugh. 

You laugh too. You feel giddy to be on the plane and see what it is like for rich people to live. You giggle when you make eye contact with Shauna and Jackie across the way; you jump into the window seat. You up it to see the men attaching a giant hose to the wing.

Van, Lottie, and Laura Lee come into the private plane with awe in their eyes. Van jokes and admires the expensive velvet seated chairs, and the three just giggle together as they come over to you. 

“This is his form of parenting, I’ll take it.” Lottie sighed as she comes closer to you in your seat. 

All three giggle and say, “Thank you, Mr. Matthews.” and giggle at in their own little world. 

"Mind if I sit here?" Lottie requested to your with her big brown eyes looking down to you. 

"Of course! Sit with me, girl!" You chimed to Lottie with a bright smile coming to your cheeks. You then ask as you look at her cute outfit. "Lottie, how the fuck did your parents afford this?" 

"(Y/n), you need to stop cursing so much. A valedictorian shouldn't speak like that! What if you slip an f-bomb in your graduation speech?" Laura Lee cuts in from the seat in front of us; she puts her bags away just like Lottie as she scolds you.

"I won't f-bomb at graduation!" You tell her with a shake of your head, moving your jacket off the seat next to you for Lottie. You pat the pocket notebook in the breast pocket of your flannel, "I'm writing it, so I will make sure to give credit to the helpful editor Laura Lee for making sure I keep it clean!" You joke as you smile at her, snarky and sarcastic.

Laura Lee rolled her eyes with a smile, "Whatever, you better say something about us in your speech." 

"Yeah, add "The fucking cool Yellowjackets went to nationals, and the guy's team didn't even make it to states; never give up on your dreams!"" Lottie added; she slouched into the chair next to you as she looked out the open window to see outside. Everyone is so happy and excited; you just giggle with the girls as you pull out the notebook and pull the table over your lap. You felt gratitude that the seat and table still fit and didn't rest on your body like other seats would have done to you. 

You look over to Lottie, who is now talking with Laura Lee about strategy for Nationals, and you feel your hand move your headphones from your Walkman over your ears. You let the music distract you as the plane goes off, and your handwriting shakes when the plane enters the air. 

"Sorry passengers, due to an unexpected storm over the Midwest, we’ll be making a detour north through Canada. You’ll catch the amazing view of the Canadian Alms." You hear the pilot speak over the intercom, and your lips pull to an excited grin. 

Lottie laughs as she sees the face and asks, "What got you so smiley?"

"We're going to see the Canadian Rockies! I went to the smoky mountains a few summers back, and it was so beautiful. I will get you to see them!" You say as you touch Lottie's hand; you smile more and move away to get started on writing the speech. You didn't know how to make yourself confident or sound that way like you earned the title. 

Lottie felt her breath hitch in her throat as she felt your soft hand touch her arm. She looks over your face quickly, looking over how your cheek curves to your smile and how your eyes seem to shine when you talk. She goes quiet as she looks over your face, lost to something; she is pulled away by Laura Lee, continuing her past thought about how she should strike the ball. 

The ride became calm for you; everyone settled and got into their own little worlds, some read, and others talked to their partners next to them. You look over when you finish the first draft of your speech, seeing Lottie sleeping peacefully in the seat. 

"Passengers, we are about to experience turbulence. Sit tight, and talk to a flight assistant for help.” The piolet voice cuts through the air like a red hot knife and it severed something inside of you. 

Your ears perked at the intercom as you felt your stomach drop slightly. You felt the tumbling of the turbulence. You see the water on your table shake, and water splashes out; Lottie wakes up with a wide eye as she looks around everywhere; you hold onto the hand rests with white knuckles. You look out the window and see the peaking out. 

In the silence, try to build some courage and lose the dread building in your stomach. Suddenly, as you stare at the peaks of the mountains and the green tops of trees, you notice them growing. There was no sound when the plane started to crash down; there you were, stuck calming, looking down to the sea of green, making the sudden realization that it wasn't just turbulence. You were crashing and fast. 

"Oh my fucking god!" You panic to yourself as you see the lights in the plane flashing around you; you see the movement of the masks deploying around you from the corner of your teary eye. All your friends and the other people on the plane start to scream, scared and hopeless. 

Down. Down. Down. 

And you were going to die. You were going down, and you had no control over what happened. You just watched the peaks of the trees come closer to the belly of the plane, you couldn’t help but start to shake in your seat.  The image of your family camping comes to your mind in rapid succession of the memories of your mother singing to you as a toddler and memories of your father teaching you how to cast a line into the water. You were never going home again. You would never see your parents, friends, neighbors, co-workers, or anybody in your life again. 

You felt a hand cling to yours, and it was the thing that pulled you away from the scene of your own death. You snap to your side and see Lottie also panicking with tearful eyes; she is now screaming like the other girls. But her deep brown eyes locked into yours, her hand clawing onto the back of your hand. Begging for the company in the bleak frantic moments. 

You're hand moves quickly to hold her back, lacing fingers together; you stare back with your lip quivering. You were so scared you couldn't open your mouth; you couldn't say anything. You move to put your mask on quickly, but your eyes don't break from those beautiful brown eyes. A sense of calm comes over you amid the nightmare, and you know that you are going to die, but you will die around the people you did love and know who loved you. 

You felt lightheaded as you two stared at each other, something deeper being told to each other with your eyes. And in your soul, you felt what she said with her as yours said to hers in that moribund realization as the plane drops your heart to your stomach. 

"I am not going to die alone. Don't leave me." 

"I won't leave you. We will not die alone."   

The fat tears roll down your cheeks as you keep your eyes on Lottie. And Lottie does the same, her mouth open with a scream of terror, her eyes looking behind you to the reality charging towards us with trees hitting the wings. 

Within a millisecond, the world went black with a disgusting crack. 

25 years later…  

You sit on the porch of your childhood home infront of your table covered with everything you might need to get inspired. It's been 2 years since your last novel came out; it was successful and made you money but nothing crazy. You're publisher has been hounding you for the third book in your trilogy of romance novels, but you have been dry of inspiration for a long time. Your books weren't something you were incredibly proud of. It was just a smutty and fluffy romance with dark undertones throughout. Your trilogy was about a lesbian couple composed of an adventurer looking for a lost artifact and a genie lost in the artifact. The adventurer's first wish was to be loved, and the story wrote itself after that idea. 

After the rescue, you never wanted to leave your house again. It took you until Shauna's wedding to leave your home and your father's side. You were in a dark place when you came back home. You lived a life out in the wilderness that would be judged and parts that would cause people to look at you with fear. You took a few years to find the motivation to do anything with your life. Your father was loving and patient with you, and you eventually went to college in new york. You build connections and experiences you long thought were not for you and that you would never experience. You remembered being in a horse-drawn carriage in central park and crying because you finally did something, and the forest didn't stop you. It couldn't stop you anymore. You became a writer under a pen name and moved back in with your father as soon as possible; you lived mostly at home and didn't leave unless you wanted to. Now, your father living in a nursing home because he needs more medical attention than you could give him, leaving you in the big house alone. And you were happy. 

You rub your eyes as you stare at the computer screen; you turn to face your cold breakfast. You bite into the sausage, feeling the texture and savoring the vestiges and juices as you eat the meat, reminding yourself to eat the meat first. The wind chimes sing softly at the wind as you look around your backyard, seeing your outside cat resting on the gate across the way. A sense of peace in the world as at this little house. You dreamed about it, and it became a paradise in your young mind; you were content with your humble home. 

As you are chewing on your food, you see a woman walk through the wooden gate and look around the back of your house. You shallow quickly as you look at the unfamiliar woman, your eyes sharp as you take another bite of food before calling out to her. A tan woman with black curls and a strong nose. You have never seen this woman in your life.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?" 

"Oh, I'm looking for (Y/n) (L/n). Does she still live here?" The woman asked, looking at you with a smile. 

"Yeah, I'm she." 

"I am Jessica Roberts, Star-Ledger, and I'd like to ask you a few questions. 

You feel your mask work for you, a smile on your lips as you wave her over to you. "Come on over; I just made some coffee." 

"Thank you," Jessica said as she came into your yard. You stand up, not caring if she would steal your computer, and go through the back door to get her a cup of coffee. 

You walk back out to her, sitting across from you at the table and her looking over the spread of items on the table. It had your breakfast, half-empty coffee, an ashtray, a computer, writing notebooks, and flowers. You always had a vase of flowers on your tables. "You like flowers, I see?" Jessica commented as she saw the cases of your phone and computer, flowers, and the big bouquet of wildflowers. 

"Yeah, I think it gives more color to my workspace." You say with a kind tone to it. You smile as you sit on the floor pillow and push your work aside to see her more clearly. "What do you need to ask me? Is it about the Ancient Desires series?"

"Oh, no," Jessica said with a confused look like she never heard of them. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as the air was thicker. "I wasn't going to ask you about that." 

Your ear perks up, and you feel the air still. The palms of your hands clam up as you continue your Façade. You perfected hiding your feeling under a smile, having to calm and temper the hunger of others for so long kept with you. Smiling and nodding, simply listening and being seen, was a tool you learned and used daily. No one needed to know the hurt or the anger, knowing if they caught a glimpse of the rage boiling inside, you would scare them. "It should scare them," you thought to yourself in times of reflection that both made you scared of yourself but empowered with knowledge of the depth of your rage.

"Well, what is it that you want to ask?" You ask her, but already knowing what she is going to say.

"I wanted to ask you about what really happened 25 years ago?" Jessica asked with a curtness that you didn't appropriate about the topic. She is that type of reporter. She is not asking about the new book's release, and she was not here for some literary journal. She is here to pry like so many before. Like the others, they have no taste as they try to pry and ask questions about the scars on your face or how you became so skinny upon your return that would be followed up by a question if you were pleased with your new body or when they try and ask what happened to the other girls in the woods.

You pause and grab a cigarette. You think to yourself, "Jesus fucking Christ." 

"Okay. We have. I remember we had a press conference a month after our rescue, and we told the story." You said quickly as you blew the smoke out of your mouth, hiding your nervousness. You remember the flashing lights of cameras and the distasteful questions, the feeling of the eyes of the girls on you, and feeling your tongue move as you lie through your teeth that day. You lean your head on your fist as you smoke your cigarette. 

"No, but how did you all survive 19 months in those woods? How did you survive, (Y/N)?" 

You look at her with your face unchanging, skillfully, as you make your face look softly confused. A soft smile as you nod your head, smoking the stick. "Okay. We have already said what happened when we got back 25 years ago. We starved, scavenged, and prayed a lot, and then we were found."

"I know you have been letting other people tell your story-" 

You dryly chuckle, cutting her off, blowing your smoke shakily as you say, "I am a bestseller author. I have published 4 books if you did any research before coming here. I would have written about it, but there is not much to tell that wouldn't be tragedy porn for sick fucks  to read. Just like the sick fucks paying you to dig up this old story. I've moved on." 

"All I am saying is that some of them are getting money off your story. Don't let them tell your story."

You lean back on your comfortable pillow as you gently let the wind hit your face. Feeling calm over you as you smoke again, looking into her eyes as you soften your face. In your heart, you know she is bluffing, but your hands shake with nervousness; you slowly space out as you let something come over you that spoke in the reassuring voice you mastered. 

"Whatever you think happened out there is probably much worse than what happened. I know we all don't want to relive our pasts because of how tragic it was…." As you look at your table, you feel space out as the world becomes quieter. "Honestly, we just starved and hunted whatever we could find to keep the ones to survive the crash alive. And some died along the way from exposure and starvation. It was hard to live through, and it is something I will always take with me, the time I lost and the kid I was, but we have told you the whole story. We just survived. I don't understand what you are looking for me to say." You said, as you basically rephrased the press statement you said 25 years ago. You remember holding the queue cards tightly as you stare down at them, not daring to face the families and people demanding answers. But how could you answer those questions? How could you tell them that what they think is true, you ate your friends, but how do you confess how you ate them, the reason they died. You remembered as you told the microphone of the deaths of the people as starvations, looking up to find Akilah's sister with a 3-year-old boy on her lap, you felt yourself choke under the guilt. You ran away from the press conference as soon as it was finished; you remember the sobs you wailed into your father's chest when you got home. And how you couldn't face the world for a few years after that. Lies always seemed to stab you more profoundly than any other bad intention, but you couldn't see how telling the truth would do anyone good. 

"Have you spoken to the other girls to know they don't want to relive it?" 

You chuckle again as you sip your coffee. You shake your head and say, "No, I haven't spoken to them in years. I think the last time I saw one of the girls was back in… '07? I hope they are doing good. I don't know how they feel, but I am just assuming." You lie smoothly. You take a deep puff out of the cigarette. "I am done talking about this now; I hope you can respect my decision." 

"Alright, but if you change your mind, please contact me," she says, putting a business card with the very clearly fake business name on it and her number. You smile as she gets up and leaves, not touching the coffee and leaving without a goodbye. 

You kiss your teeth as you think, "Wasteful bitch." You sigh as you smoke the end of the short cigarette, pouring the untouched coffee into your mug. You sit in your spaced-out state as your thoughts run. You feel yourself kiss your teeth again, knowing what you should do, as you stand up with a new cigarette in your teeth, walking into your home. 

You race to the bedroom, and you find the purple burner phone. The one that Tai bought you a week before she married Simone, she begged you to keep contact and that she couldn't imagine a world without you as she proposed to Simone. You took the phone without saying anything to the crying woman, and you pointedly never used it after putting all the yellowjackets information into it if you needed it. You still felt a sting when you thought about Tai and how things ended up for you. You felt that way about all the girls. 

You sigh and light the cigarette as you look up to the ceiling; you roll your eyes as you call the number that you know would know the most and would give you anything you need at the drop of a hat. 

You hear the rings as you anxiously pace the floor, smoking the cigarette deep into your lungs, feeling the tickle and your nerves widen in your legs and hands. 

"Hello, this is Misty Quigley. Who is this?" 

"Hey, Misty, it's me-"

"Hi," Misty said breathlessly on the other end. I can already tell she is smiling and pressing her phone closer to her cheek, trying to get close to you somehow. She knew it was you before you could finish your sentence. 

"I wanted to call and tell you that someone came to my house and asked about it." You said softly to her, holding the burning stick. Looking at it as you lose yourself in the disassociating daydream. "You told me once, if anything happened, to call you." 

"Who was it? Another reporter? Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?" 

"Yeah, she said her name was Jessica Roberts from the Star-Ledger. I-I know you are better at these things than me, but I don't think that if that is really her name or Star-Ledger is real. I wanted you to know before she or any of the girls come to you." You said as you felt yourself start crying. You didn't know why. 

"Thank you. You're still so kind; how are you doing? Are you still in New York?" Misty asked quickly, and you felt your skin crawl as you knew she was already trying to get her claws into you again. Too much hurt lingers inside you with what happened in the woods. 

"I-I… Thank you, Misty. I have to go now-"

"Wait-"

"Bye. I'm sorry." You sobbed as you hung up on her. You felt a piece of your heart pull at the pain. You chose yourself long ago; you can't let them come back in. They would never leave. You don't really know if you want them to.

You know that you would let them creep back into your life if you let them. They saved you. They protected you. How could you stay away from them again?

DINGDONG! DINGDONG! 

You feel yourself flinch at the sound of your doorbell ring in your house. It stabbed the air violently. You rush to the door now, feeling lost in the moment. The memories rush and consume your reality. As you race down the stairs, you feel the air push your hair like the wild wind did in those hunts; the feeling of your skin touching the carpeted floors turn to wet grass, as the hair follows out not out of simple bounce of stairs but out of savagery. 

"Jessica, I already told you that I don't-" You say as you open the door, only to find nobody there. You pause as you look around the road with the other houses on the drive and the forest surrounding your home. You feel the wilderness look at you when you scan the trees, knowing it is breathing you in as you breathe it in. You were alone in your isolated country home, 

You look down at the mat to find a bouquet of Baby breaths wrapped in brown paper. You shakily pick it up and look at the card. You felt the lone lost role come back from all those years ago, the Doe, the innocent creature watched over by the wolves and tormented with pleasure and insanity. Your eyes manically look around the house again as you lose your breath, panic over you as you back into your door, slamming and locking the door. 

“I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve never met anyone who is equally beautiful inside and out as you. I hope you like the flowers even though I know you prefer color. 

Eternally yours ♡” 

Unbeknownst to you, across the way, a woman watched the house when you cowered back into the safety of the house. Her hand clutched the tree with their fingers digging into the now smoothed bark from the years of her touch. Her face snarls as she sees you hide back into your house, the lip quacking into a smirk, taking you drawing back as an invitation to chase you again. They remembered the years they yearned for you, afraid of you rejecting them because they didn't know if you liked girls too, not knowing how you would love them. You were precious; you were kind and genuine, ferocious and passionate, but so lost like always. They saw how you were lonely before the crash, and they see it now. They knew deep down that you were ruled by your fear and love of others, making you hide. They knew if they got you again, you couldn't leave them like you did once. You were their wife out there. And they are going to get you back. 

Note: I really hope you liked this story! Please ask me if you want to be on the Taglist or any thoughts on my story. Also, if you don’t like the outfits you don’t have to take them as the image you get in your head while reading, they were just what I used to inspire the story and enrich the character setting that you are in for this story!  (BTW I am so annoyed that I couldn’t find any plus sized clothes on the site I used to make the outfits)

[mychlapci]

Could you give us more filthy ass spice on the rescue bots with their human partners? I imagine that these last ones will end up just as freaky as their bot partners (and only with them), but will never admit it....obviously, everyone would make a collective effort to make sure Cody doesn't find out about the adult activities (he´s a sweet angel and needs to be protected lol)

Basically, "you fucked me so good my own species no longer gets me going" and "I fucked you so good my own species no longer gets me going". According to you, what would be the kinks each both and human would be into, and mutual kinks for each pairing?

okay, the rescue team and the rescue bots completely rewiring each other into becoming alien fuckers is good. lots of funny potential, but also, kind of fucked up. I want Kade to be getting it on with Hayley and half-way through realizing that he’s missing the sound of a rumbling engine, the feel of hard metal under his hands, the sensation of combing wires between his fingers. I want Dani to be getting it on with that crush of hers and she realizes that she doesn’t like the feel of flesh anymore, that when she touches him she expects hard steel and the flutter of helicopter wings. I want Graham to be casually fixing a small electric motor or a motherboard or whatever and popping a boner. Chief Burns never really looked at women all that much because most of his focus was on his kids and on his job but now he’s lost all interest, all the warmth he needs is that of Chase’s cabin. 

And the bots too. They’ll interface to release tension after a long day of working and it’s fine but they all kind of wish a human was involved, missing the soft flesh and the squirming, small hands pressing up against the chassis, the gush of organic fluids and the feeling of their little bodies overheating in such a peculiar manner… Uh oh. They’ve all trained themselves to be attracted to an alien species. 

but then again, funny potential. people asking chief Burns why doesn’t he find someone now that his kids are mostly grown up, and he has to spin some story about how his job is important and how Cody is still small and it wouldn’t be fair to him. Meanwhile Chase is behind him revving his engine because he’s feeling jealous. People ask Kade why he broke up with his dream girl and he kind of stumbles around before making a “joke” about how he’s only faithful to his job. 

and as for kinks... i think Graham and Boulder are big into Plug ’n’ play. Graham is interested in the construction of the cybertronian physique and Boulder is happy to indulge him. They like a little bit of electroshock play. These two probably have the most healthy sexual relationship, lots of safety precautions and consent.

The two who are competely unsafe and fucked up are Heatwave and Kade, who don’t take proper safety precautions, meaning that Kade will limp around for a week, or Heatwave will be painstankigly cleaning out semen out of his valve for hours. They like to do a little dom/sub play, though of course both of them is convinced they’re the dom.

mhmmm I think Blades has a little bit of a force-fem kink. He likes it when Dani calls him a pretty girl, plays with his valve and calls it a pussy. He would wear a dress or lingerie for her if they made any in his size. Dani is definitely into it. She wasn’t really at first, but she wuickly found ou that she likes it when her partner is a little bit of an anxious wreck.

Chief Burns and Chase have the weirdest relationship yet. Chase is very communicative, in his own way, and Charlie is humiliated but tries to be recoprocative. They keep everything very down low and calm, enjoying each other’s company most of the time. But wwhen they get kinky, they get kinky. Chase loves listening to orders, after all, and fulfilling them only makes him feel happy. Intense Dom/Sub play with these two.

[its-vannah]

West Coast | Warren Rojas x Plus-Size Reader

Request from anonymous: hi! not sure if your taking requests <3 or if you would be comfortable with this one but I just wanted maybe a plus size reader fic with literally any of the guys. I know thats a weird request but i feel like a lot of the writing and a lot of stuff from the 70s rlly glorifies eating disorders and being skinny and i just would love a fic where the reader is a lot like cass elliot/mama cass, like she has a good voice or her own band and is underlooked cause of her weight.

A/N: I hope I did this request justice 💕

Warnings: Mentions of body positivity, mentions of E.D.'s (not your own)

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Being a female vocalist in the 70's had it's fair share of problems. Especially for women who didn't have the "ideal body type" of the era. Unless you were stick thin, you typically weren't given the light of day.

Growing up, it hurt to watch all of your classmates idolize women who they related to. But you never had that. At the time, there were very few plus-sized women in music and film. Those who were often got talked down on.

You looked at yourself in the mirror that night, really looked at yourself—and you found nothing. Nothing that you didn't like about yourself. Sure, there were things that every girl picks out about themselves, but you couldn't do it. You couldn't do it to the little girl inside of you who longed to have someone to idolize.

That day, you made yourself a promise: you were going to pursue a career in the music field and give girls like you, who grew up without someone to look up to, someone to relate to.

You moved to Los Angeles a month later.

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Y/N L/N, vocalist: My goal, as an artist, has never been to fit in with everyone else. Society's standards have never made room for me or people like me. They haven't made room for people of color or those who have different sexualities or sexual orientations. It was about time for that to change.

------------------------------------------------------------

The move wasn't easy. You didn't even know where to begin out in LA. All you had was a goal and a voice, two things that don't get many people very far. Anyone can sing, not everyone can sing well.

After years of getting turned down by constant music producers for "not having the right look", Teddy Price gave you a chance.

He said as long as you have a good stage presence, a good sound, and the ability to engage a crowd, you had it all.

You expressed your hopes for plus-sized girls like yourself to be able to relate to someone.

"It wasn't easy growing up," You explained, "Kids are shitheads, especially when they're younger. Chances are, they don't get better as adults. They just get quieter. I'm done being quiet, Teddy."

He nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette, "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm going to sing my damn heart out."

"Come in tomorrow."

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Y/N: I went in the next day and gave it all I had. All the years I spent in choir and voice lessons had finally paid off. I got a deal with promises of releasing my own single. The only problem was that I had to write a song. I'd never really done that before. Nothing that was good, at least. He gave me three weeks to write a song. I came back in two. We were recording my album not even a month after that.

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"What do you hope fans take away from your newest album?" An interviewer asked you, sitting across from you on a velvet couch on an empty stage.

"I hope that this new generation is able to look at their TV screens or magazines and see someone who looks like them. There are girls out there starving themselves to be thin because that's the idea society puts in their head. But all bodies are beautiful," You explained, "That's what I want people to take away from this. That they're beautiful and not alone."

------------------------------------------------------------

After the interview, you made your way back to your dressing room. That wasn't, however, without bumping into a man with a head full of black curls, wearing the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses you'd ever seen.

He took a step back, looking you up and down after apologizing, "You're Y/N L/N."

Nodding, you extended a hand, "Pleasure to meet you. You are...?"

Clearing his throat, he shook your hand, "Warren Rojas, I'm with The Six."

"I've heard about you guys," You revealed, "We're both just starting out on the west coast."

He nodded, his eyes focused on your legs.

Suddenly aware of his gaze, you stepped to the side, "Is there a problem, Mr. Rojas?"

"You're beautiful," He said, coughing, "Sorry, that's straightforward."

"No, no, it's alright. I like straightforward."

He grinned, "I'm a leg guy."

"You're what?"

"Along for the ride, that's what I said," He bobbed his head, "I've got to go on, but am I good to pick your brain about your album after our interview?"

You smiled, "I look forward to seeing you."

"Then it's a date?" He asked hopefully.

"If that's what you want to call it."

[agentrouka-blog]

lol i can’t even defend grrm when ppl call him a pervert bc of the way he describes sansa’s body 💀 no 12yo should be “curvy”

On a purely technical note, as a member of a family of so-called "early bloomers" who was judged years older for basically the entirety of my teens, I beg to differ. There are plenty of 12-year-olds with various curves and plenty of adults who objectify them with almost no regard for their age.

Sansa also actually isn't described as curvy at any point. People just point out a lot that she has breasts at all. And yes, it's gross and contrived in plenty of scenes, but it's not JUST arbitrary perversion.

It's not some omniscient neutral entity describing her body. It's the Hound, pointing out she looks older than her age and slipping into his "song = rape" metaphor. It's Tyrion, pointing out the sexualised nature of her abuse by Joffrey (not that it will stop him later). It's Sansa noticing that grown men leer at her. It's a woman sewing a secret wedding dress for a child at Cersei's behest. It's creepy harrassment by adult men who think a bastard girl is fair game. It's Myranda Royce trying to make Sansa uncomfortable with disorienting switches between bawdy jokes to blur boundaries and subtle interrogation.

I'm not saying GRRM's treatment of women's and girls' bodies is not flawed. It is. It really is. But it's much more notable in characters of color where these descriptions may be part of a racist POV (Arys, Cersei) but they are still overt and contrived and unnecessary because they go far beyond merely making any kind of point.

With Sansa, usually, it is supposed to make you uncomfortable.

(I realize that at the same time it's also probably GRRM trying to prepare the reader for a teen pregnancy storyline he can't skip because it's plot relevant and he fumbled the passage of time. It's flawed. But it's not JUST arbitrary perversion.)

[catboybiologist]

Holy fuck this got long.

@glorhatransgal asked about my "queer timeline", and I'm making a separate post for reblog control. Feel free to engage in the replies or my DMs, though! I'm a pretty open book, except some stuff I would rather leave to DMs.

The tl;Dr is that I think I knew from the time I started puberty, but I had a weird commitment to suppression and misery. I've only managed to tackle that feeling in the past year or so, and I still need to socially transition.

Long long thing under the cut with mental health CWs!!!!!

I'm pretty sure the first awareness I had of queerness was when California proposition 8 was a thing, in the 2008 election. I was ~10 or 11 at the time, and asked my mom what the big deal with letting two men marry was. She explained a bit, explained that "you'll like girls when you get older but you shouldn't judge what other people do" and then emphasized that I shouldn't really ever worry about dating or relationships ever because I should focus on school.

That was a HUGE underlying theme, not just from my parents, but from the area I grew up in overall. Very high academic pressure just kinda.... Oozed out of everywhere, without any one specific parent or teacher particularly overemphasizing it (with notable exceptions). This came up a lot, and made me feel stupid or vain for engaging in any other aspects of my personality, including queerness.

I remember having some semblance of trans thoughts back in Middle School, without ever learning what trans people are explicitly. None of the adults in my life wanted to discuss the subject, mostly brushing it off as "it's something other people do and you shouldn't judge them". Very little explicit hate, to be fair, which is good. But a lot of changing the subject. So to me, it felt like basic vanity- eg, a shallow desire to be "pretty" that everyone had, of course, that I just needed to get rid of to focus on academics.

And of course, on top of that, I was more tech literate than the average kid. So my head was stuffed with the.... Unique.... Perspective on queerness, particularly trans people, provided by the unrestricted wilderness of the 2009-2016 internet. Since no adult in my life would really address it, it gave me a lot of really bad perspectives on the whole thing.

I'm not quite sure when bisexuality entered the picture, but I called myself "straight with exceptions" from the ages of 14 to 21 at least. My earliest clear memory of being attracted to a man was when I saw Aragorn in LotR for the first time (can you blame me?). If you want to make fun of my little nerd ass more, my first distinct attraction to a woman was probably Padme's midriff outfit in Attack of the Clones. Again, since my head was stuffed with weird ideas of queerness, gayness was often portrayed as a disgust or lack of attraction to women. I didn't have that, so I couldn't be queer, right? "Straight with an asterisk" it was.

Dysphoria kinda crackled in the background and grew as I went through puberty. The way I've described it is that my "resting state" was never happy pre-HRT. I could easily make myself happy and distract from it, but I didn't "come home" to a good feeling. Not an overwhelming feeling, not a suicidal one, but just being miserable in the background if there wasn't something to make me happy.

So when I hit a wall with my mental health in high school, it ended very poorly. I was in mostly advanced programs until then, but couldn't keep up due to things I *now* realize were ADHD symptoms. I had ongoing physical health problems that meant orthopedic surgeries, multiple extended times on crutches, limping around a lot, and ongoing pain and lack of physical ability that most people couldn't see, making me feel hopeless about my body and future. Add in a nice little dysphoria bundle in the background of all of that…and yeah. That's the self harm and suicidal period of my life. I was very weird in high school, oscillating between AP classes and almost failing out. I was also really just... Nasty to a lot of people around me, as a shield for how miserable I was. So uh, if you knew me in high school and stumble across this somehow... I am truly sorry. But I made it through, mostly through the patience and good graces of friends and teachers.

Anyways. I'm on a tangent.

Undergrad wasn't that memorable for my queerness- I lived at home while attending a local state college, and dated one cis girl for about a year there. Years later she told me that she realized she's bi, so that was kinda validating. I dove a lot into a academics, research, and volunteering to distract myself, and was academically successful.

I was asked out by a gay guy at one point in undergrad. He was someone who I had talked about my uncertain sexuality with and helped me work towards calling myself bi. When he asked me out, I got a bad vibe, and told him I actually thought I was straight. He was later arrested for rape. So uh... Bullet dodged? After his arrest, I started openly calling myself bisexual, but didn't really do anything with it- no dating and no community. It was a long time coming by that point, and the experience made me realize that I didn't have to be attracted to *all* men to say I'm attracted to men. After all, I wasn't attracted to all women either.

I graduated from undergrad in 2020 and stayed at the same uni for my MS. And this is where we enter "how much do I say" territory. My MS was instrumental in figuring out my transness, but was also a fucked up ongoing situation that involves several other people's dirty laundry that I don't necessarily want to air. I can talk a bit more about this in DMs if I know you and trust you, I guess. Sorry OP. So uuuhhh... Let's just say that I was extremely miserable and living mostly alone, so in the Fall of 2020, I ordered my first skirt to try and alleviate that background misery. I called myself a femboy as a last ditch effort to “just be a feminine man”. It was a key part of figuring myself out, though, and I loved the online community I made that way. About a year afterwards, I was having a shit time, and started the CatboyBiologist account on reddit to distract myself from it. I worked more and more from home, and would dress up as a "femboy" as I did.

I graduated from my MS in 2022 in a miserable state, probably worse than I was even as a teen. But it made me realize three things: one, some kind of mental illness made it really easy for my life to derail, two, my dysphoria made it such that *when* my life derailed, I had nothing to be happy about, and three, my weird standards growing up gave me the subconscious sense that I HAVE to be miserable, otherwise I'm not "accomplished" or whatever.

That's kind of the theme of my queer experience. I always knew it was there, but I excused it as "stupid" or just ignored it because I thought everyone was supposed to be miserable by default.

When I entered my PhD, I made a promise to myself to get rid of my weird connection to misery, and actually work on the first two. I joined a grad student queer group and started therapy almost immediately. At first the focus of therapy was essentially immediate trauma support. Slowly, however, I was able to tackle the underlying issues in therapy. I also brought my "femboy" fits to events organized by that queer org, and social events with the friends I made there. I fully engaged in my bisexuality and had a hot girl summer last year, dating men, women, and enbies for the first time since my undergrad GF.

Oh, and btw. Being a feminine man gets you laid. I'm sorry, it's just how it is. Take notes, alpha males, and put on the fucking dress.

With that support, I finally started HRT in August of last year, at the age of 25. I'm still a mix of boymode and girlmode- I girlmode around queer friends, and boymode most of the time otherwise. I've also told several people that I'm transitioning, but just to treat me as a man for now and wait for me to come out more publicly. My plan is to take a hiatus from my PhD this summer, and use that to travel and socially transition. So that's my upcoming landmark experience.

Up until this past month or so, I was the happiest I've ever been. Some out of the blue bad things happened this January. But I realized something- for the first time ever, bad shit happened in my life, and I didn't derail. I was sad. I cried. I was frustrated. I yelled. I had dynamic emotions and handled it. That's never happened before.

Obviously it's always an ongoing process, and it's linked to so many details of my life that it's really hard to say things about “just my queer experience” but uh yeah. Idk if anyone read all that and I'm taking multiple passes to trim out details that got too personal, but fuckit I'm already extremely doxxable at this point.

[cinemaseeker]

Let's Review: Barbie

FAIR WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Barbie.

No other singular female name invokes quite as many various feelings, to such varying degrees, as Barbie. And very few names are quite as ubiquitous as Barbie (no really, name anyone you know who's never owned a Barbie at least once in their lifetime). And as with any ubiquitous entity, people are going to try and take their best shot, hoping to bring them down to our level.

Make no mistake, this movie is meant to reintroduce Barbie to a new generation of consumers. You will, more likely than not, want to buy a Barbie doll or other Mattel product either before or after watching this movie, either for yourself or for any child you know. This movie effectively serves as a mass market rebranding of Barbie, pivoting her from the poster girl for unrealistic body image/impossible feminine beauty standards to a vehicle for individuality and female empowerment.

Barbie is now all things to all people (anyone can be Barbie!), but all those things are still Barbie. However, as most of us know, a friend to all is a friend to none. If you are all things to all people, then you are effectively nothing, an empty vessel for others to project themselves onto. And indeed, even this new re-vamped Barbie can be validly viewed as a vapid vehicle for the consumer's own dreams and desires, leaving very little to no room for Barbie to have any dreams of her own.

And yet this movie still dares to ask: can a corporate capitalist product, whether it's a mass marketed toy or a Hollywood movie starring that toy, ever be a good thing, a force for positive change? Can subversive feminist messages stick stronger with audiences, especially its youngest and most impressionable viewer, if we cover it in a pink candy coating? Just give it a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down?

After all, this new Barbie now comes with her own existential crisis and has to deal with scary realities such as cellulite, aging, and *gasp* FLAT FEET (a hilarious bit of family-friendly body horror).

Not to mention a growing awareness of mortality.

To answer Barbie's question: yes. Yes, I do think about dying. We all think about dying at some point. And perhaps more importantly, our kids are starting to think about dying. I would not be surprised if there is even a single kid out there who has asked this question during playtime through their own Barbie. And for many good reasons. The world is a mess right now. Don't even get me started.

It feels like kids and adults alike are more anxious than ever and this new Barbie can certainly relate to that anxiety, even if it's not necessarily her own (it belongs to the girl playing with her). But it turns out that it's the girl's mom Gloria (America Ferrera) who's really struggling and needs Barbie's help, if only by using Barbie as a means of working through her own dissatisfaction as a working wife and mother.

This movie reminds us that we don't stop worrying about things just because we grow up. If anything, we find more things to worry about as we get older. But adults often don't get the same kind of comfort that we give to children; we're just supposed to suck it up and tough it out, but sometimes all we wanna do is stay in our rooms and play with our toys, just like we did when we were kids. Especially if we're girls, since the world is significantly much harder for us to deal with in a society that constantly polices and critiques girls and women (Gloria's speech about the impossible, and often double, standards imposed upon women is a highlight of the movie and should be required viewing for all humans)

But Barbie helps us feel like kids again.

Throughout the entire movie, Greta Gerwig and her team manage to recapture the joy of playing with Barbies with an obviously loving attention to detail. Barbie Land is that now-rare fantasy world that doesn't require a factual explanation but runs on a strong engine of internal logic that makes sense if you've ever played with dolls.

But enough about Barbie.

What about the men?

They're the ones who really have it rough here. Having to deal with all this girly stuff.

Now guys, this might come as a shock, but this movie might not be made for you in mind and therefore you may not get it. You may find yourself confused about why women in this movie are hogging the spotlight and not letting the men do anything important.

But, it's okay, don't worry guys, Ken's got you.

Barbie may be the star, but Ken gets the real emotional journey here. You see, he keeps getting friend-zoned by Barbie, who would rather hang out with her girlfriends and maintain her autonomy than spend the night with him. But once he follows Barbie into the Real World and discovers a magical society where men are in charge and women have to respect them, Ken brings some of these ideas back to the Kens in Barbie Land, thus subjugating all the Barbies to the awesome new patriarchal rule of "Kendom".

Now every night is guys' night.

Folks, go give bonus points to whoever had "Ken gets a villain arc" on their 2023 Bingo card. And while you're at it, add an extra 5 if they also included "Ironic use of a Matchbox Twenty song on the Barbie soundtrack".

Ken's story arc is a powerful reminder of why it's important to critique feminism when it doesn't work.

After all, Barbie Land's matriarchy may seem utopian at first glance, and may even be super inclusive to Barbies of all shapes and races and abilities, but ultimately it is exactly the same as our real world patriarchy, only gender-swapped, with women holding all the power and men being treated as useless accessories. This doesn't balance the scales, it just tips them all the way in the other direction. The only way to achieve true equality is for both men and women to have equal power in society. A conclusion that, thankfully, the movie reaches on its own by the end.

And although Barbie shouldn't have to apologize for not wanting to spend time with Ken or for prioritizing time for herself and her friends, I do appreciate that she was able to make things right with Ken without having to fix things with a kiss or kowtow to his desire to make her his girlfriend. Instead she helps Ken realize that he needs to figure out who he is outside of Barbie, cutting right to the root of toxic/fragile masculinity, which is usually the result of men with low self-esteem just wanting to be heard and respected.

But while Ken is hilariously drawn as a pouty, mostly innocent man child who just wants to be loved (ideally by Barbie), it's a lot harder to laugh off his antics when they result in the Kens actively stripping away constitutional rights and taking over the Supreme Court of Barbie Land. This moment especially should hit just a little too close to home and inspire us to take action.

Thankfully, this movie is not only entertaining and hella meta, but also serves as a practical instruction manual for how girls and women can deal with toxic men and take their power back, whether it's from men in power or obnoxious film bros who constantly espouse the virtues of films like The Godfather and the Snyder cut of Justice League (there's nothing wrong with enjoying these movies, just don't be a dick about it).

It has been a long, time honored tradition in Hollywood for "chick flicks", which is usually code for female-centered films, to be looked down on and mercilessly mocked while elevating more masculine movies to prestige levels. Hopefully Barbie will be the movie that helps us see that "chick flicks" can be just as powerful and impactful as "dick flicks" and then help us reclaim hyperfemininity in our fight against the patriarchy.

After all, would it really be the worst thing in the world if the revolution was not only televised, but also pink?

Listen, if you laugh during this Barbie movie and it happens to make you question and effectively challenge the patriarchy, then all the better.

So will Barbie be that radical watershed movie that inspires a whole generation to believe that the future truly is female or will it just pay lip service to a feel-good you-go-girl message while still maintaining the status quo?

As with any seed we plant, the best we can do is nurture it, give it time, then wait and see what grows.

Come on, Barbie. Let's go party.