#it must be so annoying to watch me hate myself and hurt myself over and over again and not get any better

[teknikolor-walters]

Does anyone else feel a debilitating fear of getting better? Is this normal? Does it secretly prove I'm just faking everything for attention? Probably tbh

[luveline]

maybe could I ask for miguel seeing spider girl with a bruise on her face and getting protective (when in reality it was just over something dumb) thank youuuu <3

ty for requesting! Finding his Spider-Girl is never easy. He’ll assume you’re wearing your watch and find it forgotten in his room, or under a chair in the cafeteria, or twitching and loosing smoke at the bottom of a garbage can, nowhere near your actual location. 

Today, he checks all your usual haunts and decides he might break up with you if you don’t start leaving him clues as to where to find you. Not that’s he’s your boyfriend (of course he’s your boyfriend), but he’d put an end to your… relationship, should he have to. 

He’s getting annoyed at his own thoughts and, by extension, you, when he finally finds you lying casually across a couch in a common area otherwise abandoned. You’ve projected your phone game onto the ceiling, music leaking from the cans of your headphones, with your socked feet dangling over an armrest, a drinks bottle by your head.

“Where are your shoes?” he asks loudly. 

You glance his way. “Hi, Miguel.” 

“Are you walking around without shoes?” He bends one way and another looking for them. They’re on their sides under the coffee table among a legion of dust bunnies. 

“What?” 

“I said–” He hates playing this game. “Take the headphones off, and then we’ll talk to each other.” 

“I’m gonna take my headphones off,” you say. 

He rolls his eyes. You stop projecting your phone, snapping it closed on your chest and struggling up into a sitting position, legs retrieved from over the armrest and crossed beneath you as your headphones slip around your neck. You’re in sportswear with a jacket too big for you over your shoulders, cute cargo pants he adores and potentially would love to take off of you, and he’s so busy noticing your uncharacteristic outfit that he misses the huge bruise on your face, the yellow, red and purple like a stain under your eye 

He has amazing vision. “What happened?” he asks, practically diving for you, bending down to take your unbruised cheek into his hand. “Who did that to you?” 

You haven’t been on a strike mission in weeks, and your combat training is all but done. 

Someone laid their hands on you. 

Miguel goes into a fugue. “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice flat, almost cold, “who hit you?” 

“Miguel, I’m a superhero–”

“I don’t remember the last time you went home,” he says, immediately brushing this possibility away. You don’t fight crime in your dimension, Spider-Girl a poorly received vigilante. “You haven’t been in training, I didn’t send you on the strike this morning because you didn’t want to go.” He touched you with extreme care, thumb barely pressed to your skin, but he talks with precision. “So I’ll ask again. Who hit you, cariño?” 

“Miguel,” you laugh, pushing his hand off of your face to wrap your arms around his neck. He covers your back instinctively. “I’m fine, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting all macho.” 

“You aren’t answering my question.” 

“Oh my gosh.” You cling to him. He could stand up at full height and be sure you’d come up with him. He’d quite enjoy that, to his secret pleasure, you with your legs wrapped around his hips. You don’t like being carried is the kicker. “Miguel, I hit myself. My hand got caught when I was taking the suit off and I hit myself in the eye, it’s fine.” 

Your back is soft. His hand less so as he rubs your back in surprised, short lines, up and down and up again. “Idiot,” he says, his voice turning to rasp at such a low volume. 

It must hurt, even if you did it to yourself. Miguel peels you away from his neck and stations you gently on the couch. “I’ll take you to the medbay,” he promises, giving your shoulder a little push. “What’s wrong with you? You hit yourself? You’re like a kid.” 

“I am not! It happens to everybody.” 

“Never happens to me.” 

“You cheat. Your suit flashes on and off.”

“It does not.” Miguel decides he is going to carry you whether you like it or not. You aren’t wearing shoes —he doesn’t need you getting any more injured. “Alright, hold on to your phone, my brat.” 

“Your what?” you laugh, though any humour you hold is lost when Miguel grabs you up with ease and cradles your full grown body to his chest in a princess carry, “Miguel! Stop, put me down! You know I hate this.” 

“You might hurt yourself again. I’m taking necessary precautions.” 

You sigh and drop your face into his shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll allow it. You got so, so mad thinking somebody hit me, I think you deserve to carry me around like a large cantaloupe.” You draw a heart into the base of his neck. “Will you grab my shoes?” 

“I’ll circle back.” 

“Thank you. How’d you even find me? I was hoping I’d be healed the next time we saw one another.”

“At bedtime, you mean?” 

He resists the urge to kiss your cheek, or tell you how he’d found you (mindless combing of the building, seduction of your most likely location, and dumb luck). You don’t need the ammunition. 

[letorip]

casual [iii]

"i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself, hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you're not just going to let her go, this time. after long enough, you arrive at the very obvious conclusion that you're in love, and there's very little else to be done about that

warnings: mentions of sex, cuss words, a bit of angst but i promise a happy ending :)

word count: 7.2k

A/N: all good things must come to an end. trust, i'll write for nat again. also i stayed in that airport so fucking long it was like purgatory, and i'm so sorry it took longer than i thought, i've had an exhausting past two weeks and just needed to stop and breathe for a minute

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THAT ONE ANON I FEEL BAD I'M LATE

===+++===

===+++===

"Please tell me you didn't do it on my sheets," Lottie groaned, lip curled in disgust and eyes hidden by her sunglasses.

"Sorry," you said back from behind your own pair, without looking away from the crystal blue of her pool water. You both were splayed out on her sun-bleached deck chairs, with matching hangovers (and bathrobes) that made the bright, beaming sunlight a whole new level of awful.

Her house was in disarray around you both, with crushed beer cans and overturned chairs all across the pool deck. Some cigarette butts floated in the water and you were certain the sprinklers in her garden were misting a pile of vomit and washing it down the front of her lawn, but neither of you made a move to get up and deal with it yet.

At the far end of the Matthews' pool, there was a statue of a mermaid that doubled as a fountain, spitting water in a gentle stream. Someone had put a snapback that said 'I <3 BOOBIES' on her and a bit of lipstick around the area that water shot out, and though usually you would have laughed, you instead were a bit annoyed by how it was taking you out of what would've been a nice scene.

There was just something about waking up and seeing Nat had gone without any sort of indication, that sparked the sudden urge within you to reconnect with nature. So you were reconnecting— more like brooding— on Lottie's pool deck in a peaceful silence.

After what felt like thirty minutes but was probably more like five, she turned to you. "Do you wanna—”

“—Talk about it?” you finished, raising your eyebrows. You shook your head. “No.”

She pouted. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to make pancakes.”

“Oh… then yes.”

You both lazily trudged into her equally wrecked kitchen, with even more cans and spilled liquids thrown over her marble counters. There was a burnt bag of popcorn sitting in the sink and the garbage can underneath it was overflowing with paper towels, but Lottie's kitchen was big enough where you could ignore it entirely, jumping up to sit on the clean countertop near her massive range cooker.

When Lottie said 'make pancakes,' she really meant she would be the one cooking and you would be there for moral support, if anything. You were gifted in many things but cooking or anything of the sort had never been one of them. Instead you leaned your head against the massive stone hood, and watched her from the pair of sunglasses you still wore.

Nat had laughed at you, when you said you didn't know how to cook. Not an omelette, not mac and cheese, and barely a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, you assumed the last one wouldn't be hard to figure out, but you hadn't ever made one before, and it made her laugh into your chest, where her head had been resting. It hurt a bit now, but you had the sunglasses to shield your eyes while you stared off into space.

"Chocolate chips?" Lottie asked, running a hand through her dark hair and combing out a few knots with her fingers. You nodded, and she turned back to the pan in front of her, grabbing a fancy looking bag from a stack of supplies nearby. "My dad brought fresh chocolate back with him from when he was in the Caribbean a few weeks ago," she said to you, sprinkling it into the pan and flipping it over.

"Is he going to be pissed you're using it for pancakes?" you mumbled, feeling your headache return.

"No more pissed than he'll be when he sees that Jeff and his friends cut off the leg on one of his horse-shaped hedges." You winced, hopping down from the counter and feeling your back still scraped raw from, well, Nat. Lottie shot you a look. "That heated, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, heading towards the kitchen island and grabbing some of the beer cans to toss in the rubbish. "She's made her decision clear. I'm honestly done with it. I don't care anymore."

Lottie didn't say anything, turning back to the pancakes and sliding them on a plate as you slid into the barstool at the other end of her island and rested your head on your elbows. "I mean, she called me selfish, Lottie, and then said she loved me multiple times, minutes later. Who the hell does that?"

"Mhm," she hummed, sticking her spatula and the pan in the sink and then moving to the walk in pantry to grab syrup and powdered sugar.

You watched her go, calling after her. "She disappears for days after she gets mad about me talking to people, and then I see her immediately with Bobby Farleigh of all people, and they're cuddling up! I'm done with it all."

"Okay," Lottie said, reappearing with her arms full and tossing them down on the kitchen island. She clambered up into the seat next to you and stole some of the plain ones for herself, before covering them in syrup.

"And," you continued, remembering something else as you began cutting up the pancakes and smothering them in powdered sugar, "she egged my fucking house! How could I even forget about that? I mean, what was I thinking? I don't want to talk about her."

"Oh yeah," Lottie snorted. "You really don't want to talk about her."

You shot her a glare, stuffing your mouth with an angry fork. "I'm serious, Lottie."

"You wish," she scoffed. "If you were serious— and I'm not trying to be mean— but if you were serious, you wouldn't be ranting all about her. I know you keep saying it's impossible and it can't happen with her, but you sure as hell seem like you want it to happen with her."

You frowned, taking a forkful and stuffing it into your mouth. Right as you did, a couple sheepishly walked down the hall and towards the front door, clothes obviously messed up. They sent you an awkward wave and Lottie gave a quick nod in their direction, turning back to her plate. "Then why'd she leave?" you asked, when the door was shut behind them.

She shrugged. "Why the hell would I know? If anyone here would be the Natalie-whisperer, it would be you."

"Yeah well, apparently not," you huffed, shoving more pancakes into your mouth.

"I mean, it's not like you guys were on glowing terms before you... y'know. Wasn't gonna magically all be fixed, after." You groaned, leaning your forehead down onto the cool marble countertops. It actually felt nice, against your raging headache, but you still felt like crap.

"Would've at least been nice for her to wait until I woke up to go. No 'goodbye,' no 'we should talk,' nothing. When we were just hooking up and stuff, I at least always waited to say goodbye."

"So it's not just hooking up, anymore?"

"I don’t know what it is, Lottie. You tell me, because apparently everyone knows but me." She shrugged, finishing her plate and pushing it away from herself.

"I have an answer, but you're not gonna like it."

"...No, I'm not in love with her."

"You absolutely are."

"I'm done with this!"

"You keep saying that."

"'Cause I am."

"Okay."

"I'm done," you frowned, attempting finality in your tone and coming far short.

"Right," she snorted, and then she stood to grab your now-finished plate too. "Can you help me?”

It took around three hours, to get the Matthews house back to its usual formality. You sprayed burnt and disturbed bushes with the hose, threw out bag upon bag of party rubbish, and vacuumed cigarette butts off the carpet of her living room, silently working while Lottie played some records on her grandfather's old gramophone.

Her dad usually put jazz records on it or snooty classical music, whenever you were over, but Lottie had Dancing Queen blasting throughout her house and was hopping around as she snatched stuff off the mantle and shoved it into bags, turning to you and yelling a lyric from time to time, along to the music.

This wasn't your idea of fun by a long shot, but you could appreciate Lottie trying to make it fun.

"So, how much convincing did you have to do, to get Laura Lee here at a party? I mean, with the alcohol," you asked with a snort, grabbing an almost empty bag of crisps and tossing yourself down in her father's leather armchair to finish them off.

Lottie flushed. "A really embarrassing amount," she admitted. "I kind of glazed over that part."

"I'll bet she was surprised?" you asked with an amused crunch.

"It wasn't even that— this guy from my third period started going at it with this girl right in front her. I had to literally stop her from going over there to talk to them about waiting until marriage."

You shrugged. "I mean, she seems to like you a whole lot."

"She does," Lottie nodded. "She's so sweet to me, and she has the best hand to hold, like, ever."

"Honestly, I'm surprised, but happy for you. You're in a big ol' throuple with Jesus Christ."

"Ha ha," Lottie rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you. "At least whatever we have is holy. I don't even want to think about you and—"

But whatever dig she would've said was cut off by her doorbell ringing. You sighed, letting your feet down from where you had propped them up on the side table and wiping the crumbs on your bathrobe.

"I'll get it," you grumbled, leaving Lottie to clean. When you opened the door there was absolutely no way you could've prepared to see her so soon.

Nat stood awkwardly in the entryway, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see her. She wore a pair of blue shorts she practiced and slept in, and staring right back at you was the shirt you thought had gone missing weeks ago, barely hidden behind the ratty zip up hoodie she had over it.

Her eyeliner was still smudged from the night before in places, and you stared at her blankly, waiting for her to say something— anything, really.

"I forgot my damn lighter," she said, casting her eyes to the floor after a moment.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a bit stupid suddenly, in your bathrobe and sunglasses, with your flip flops for shoes. You looked like you were mid-spa day, or like someone's drunk uncle on a cruise. Then, before you could stop yourself, you felt an annoyance twinge in your gut, and said "Is that all you've got to say?"

Her eyes shot up, looking challengingly at you, in what was a clear frustration. "What do you want me to say?" But the answer went unsaid, even as much as you didn't like it. That you came back for me.

"I don't know..."

"Great," Nat scoffed. She looked over your shoulder into Lottie's house, as if her lighter would appear behind you and jump right into her hand, and she would just be able to leave. "Can I just have my—"

"—Why did you egg my house?" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to block the door a bit more. She raised her eyebrows at you, confused.

"What?"

"You egged my house, after our argument," you repeated, slower, feeling the tips of your ears burning.

"No the hell I didn't."

"Yes the hell you did," you argued back, leaning forward with your hands on your hips. "You're the only one with the gate code. I get it, you were mad, but—"

"—Fucking Christ, I didn't!"

"You wrote a giant 'fuck you' on my house. No one else would."

Nat glared. "I didn't invent it. Is it such an impossible thing for you to consider that maybe not everyone is Team (Y/n)? I don't mean to break your brain, but for once somebody might actually dislike you."

You rolled your eyes. "You're the only one with a history of breaking rules and doing shit."

"So, what, you think I would do that to you?"

"Maybe you would. Maybe you don't care about me at all. That's why you ran off, wasn't it?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "I had to go, before my dad caught me out."

You shook your head. "Bullshit. You've stayed out, before."

"Oh, so now you're mad that I'm not cuddling up to you?"

"That's not cuddling, that's having me stick my fingers in you and then you run off. You were pissed at me a few days before, Nat, for literally the same thing."

"It's almost like it's confusing, (Y/n), when you get mixed signals. And no, I got pissed at you because you went shopping for girlfriends— which, I'm assuming because you're being an oblivious, self-righteous asshole, you're still doing."

"Yep, still looking," you glared at her. She glared right back, just as steely.

"Great."

"Great," you replied. It was annoying, how good she looked when she was frustrated. She was great at looking mad, and even better at looking good when she was mad. The furrowing of her eyebrows, wrinkling of her nose in anger; she had the face you wanted to kiss away. It was impossible not to wonder, if doing so would uncurl her fists and smooth out the lines on her forehead.

Then you stopped. Holy shit. Everything seemed awful, like a massive case of vertigo had just washed over you. You had had hangovers before, but this somehow seemed infinitely worse. See, a thought had finally self-realised itself within your little peanut brain.

I'm in love with Nat.

It made the ceiling feel like the floor, and Nat sent you a concerned glance and seemed about to question your change in expression, when Lottie came from behind you.

"Hey, Nat," she said with an awkward smile, brushing past you with a look and then handing her the lighter quickly. "Excited for nationals?”

"Yeah," Nat nodded, but her eyes were still glaring at you. She cleared her throat, finally looking off. "Thanks, Lot. Great party."

"Mhm," Lottie nodded, trying her best to seem at ease and not at all like she was walking in on a code-red situation. "Have a great weekend! Bye now! Get home safe! See you!" She rushed, tugging you from beyond the doorway and giving a wave, before shutting the door.

The moment the door was closed, she gave you an unappreciative stare, but your eyes were wide and your cheeks flushed.

"What?" asked Lottie, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"I...I think I'm in love with her."

===+++===

Your home was just as empty as it was when you had left the night before. Reginald wasn't even due to come in, since your mother and father weren't home and it was a Saturday. Even the groundskeeper and maid had the day off, and the groan you let out at finally returning home and falling onto the warm rug on your living room floor echoed against the walls of your empty house.

In your hand was the letter you found in your mailbox. A cool black and Princeton-orange colour. You already knew what it said, without even looking into it. Your father and mother went there. His father and mother, too. For years and years and years. And now, if you followed the rules set out in front of you, you too.

It was impossible not to wonder, when the fog of privilege would slowly cloud your brain. Would it be the law degree from a private school, or legacy admissions? The more frightening thing was that maybe Nat was right: it had already set in, and you unaware. You at least felt different than the rest of them. That made you different, right? You and Lottie?

The image of Nat seemed ever-prevalent. Glowering at you, like she had been in the doorway. In your shirt. With that frown. The frown that you wanted to kiss away, but would never be able to. A Scatorccio, of all people. Of all people, you had to be in love with the one person you couldn't have.

It felt simultaneously like life had resolved into something more clear and understandable, and something more depressing and doomed. You wanted to forget the realisation, and the acceptance as well. Maybe it was truly better when you were promising your friends that you felt nothing of the sort.

Your eyes flitted from where they stared at the ceiling over to the giant brown bookcase in the corner, stacked high with thick volumes of what your dad had once said were family records, but you had never grabbed one off yourself. The one that stuck out against the brown leather-bound books was a more sleek, grey memoir with your grandfather’s name printed onto the hard cover casing.

That one you had read— your father had made you read it, when you were fourteen, and your parents gave up on trying for another kid. It wasn’t as dreadfully boring as you thought it would be, but it was still a memoir about a stuffy stockbroker from the 80s, with all the parts involving cocaine conveniently edited out, but not your grandfather’s insane escapades with women.

Your father was in the process of writing his own edition, and had thereby implied that he expected you to write one for yourself. You didn't know what you could possibly write about, but then again there was the expectation you write about it anyway. You weren't a guy on Wall Street, you weren't an international businessperson. You didn't even know what you were going to school for, yet.

Next to the bookshelf in equal intimidation was a painting of your family that your father had commissioned years ago. It was back when you still had braces and acne, but thankfully the artist had removed both. You hadn't been allowed to smile for it, though that's what child-you thought you did for pictures. Instead, you and your parents' mouths were drawn into disapproving lines and hardened expressions, and the golden plaque at the bottom wore your surname in proud, powerful letters.

You sighed, sitting up onto the palms of your hands and then standing slowly, still a bit uncoordinated. You sent the painting a final glance before you wandered to the phone, grabbing the thing and checking your watch while you did it. You slumped down into the seat at the end of your dining room table, where your father usually sat, and pulled the antenna from the top, punching in the numbers absentmindedly as you stared out the window onto the garden and the pool.

The number was for your father's Monaco residence, and you waited with a jumping knee and wry expression while it rang. Eventually, though, your mother picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello, mother."

(Y/n), darling, is something wrong? You know to call Reginald first, in case of emer—"

"—No, nothing is wrong, mother. Look, I actually wanted to ask you a question."

"Well, go on then. We're about to go out to dinner."

"...Mother, do you have Julie Roosevelt's number?"

Silence on the end of the line. "Absolutely!" You didn't need to be there with her to hear the smile in her voice. "What for?"

You swallowed. "I think I'll try to take her out tonight."

"Well! Darling, that's just wonderful!" You nodded into the receiver, not like she could see it. "Make sure to wear your nice shirt, we don't want to upset the Roosevelts! I hope you know, I'm proud of you for this, really." You almost mentioned getting accepted into Princeton. Almost. But you decided not to mention it. It wasn't like you wanted to think about it anyways.

From the far wall, you could see the painting of the woman with the blue eyes staring at you.

===+++===

The local mini golf was always busy, but Saturdays were absolutely the busiest. There were couples upon couples who had the exact same idea, and were wandering around with their hands together and beaming at one another like they were living in a rom-com in the real life.

And yet you stood there with your hand in Julie Roosevelt's, and a massive frown on your face. It wasn't one that you'd let Julie see— every time she glanced in your direction, you'd quickly replace it with your best smile, showing her your teeth— but it was one that you knew you wore when she turned away.

"Sorry about the late notice," you said. You dropped her hand and went to grab a putter from the front, handing it to her and then grabbing one for yourself.

"It's okay, I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me again," Julie laughed, a bit awkward. You winced. It's not like you could be honest, and say that you didn't intend to. The truth was, that while Julie was a bit shallow, she was also a bit too nice to deserve this one-sided thing.

Of course, there was the hope that you grew the love your mother spoke of. Maybe it would hit you, and alleviate you from Nat, who seemed to haunt your thoughts even more now, that you were aware she had captured your heart.

"I was just busy, this past week," you shrugged. "It's kind of a big deal for the Yellowjackets, and both of the teams are practicing and stuff...so."

"Wow. I guess you really like the Yellowjackets then, huh?"

"Uh...something like that, yeah. It's a big deal." She hummed, then took her things out onto the first green.

You let her go, standing behind her and watching with a grin and the scorecard in your pocket. Mini golf was something you took pride in being good at. But, then, of course, Julie let the ball drop, took a second, and gently hit the ball around the bend with a near perfect curve, and right into the hole.

"Yay!" she cheered, jumping up and down in celebration.

"Wha—"

Julie put her hands on her hips with a teasing grin. "Captain of the golf team, remember?" You hadn't.

"Right..."

You played a terrible game, for the most part. You stood at the end of the second-to-last hole with the scorecard in your hand and a whole bunch of big numbers on your side of the table. Julie was beaming from ear to ear, though you weren't exactly sure why.

It had been pretty much silent, with the two of you failing over and over again to find an interesting thing to talk about. It wasn't the calm, pleasant silence like it was with... well, it didn't matter now. You filled in a four, two shots over the par, and made your way over to where Julie was crouching down, to get a better view of the final hole.

"Actually wait, there's a special way you have to play this one," you called out to her, and she turned to you with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

"It's kind of local tradition here," you shrugged. You weren't even sure if that was true, you just knew that it was what Nat had called it, when she taught you. "You have to swing really, really hard, and to win, you've gotta get it over the fence," you pointed, "and right into the back of that neighbourhood."

She blinked at you for a moment, and then Julie frowned, looking down to the ground. "That's mean, though. What if you hit someone's house? Or a window?"

"Bonus points," you shrugged. "I don't know, you can't really see where they go, once they're over the fence. It's fun."

Julie raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think it's a little immature? Why would I do that if I'm going to win for real?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then firmly closed it. "I guess you're right," you mumbled. It hadn't felt stupid when you suggested it, but Julie's disdain at the suggestion made you feel improper.

She did win, by a massive landslide, and you let her keep the scorecard with little protest. She was still beaming though, brightly at you like she had just had the best date of her life. Your stomach felt like it was tied up in a bunch of knots, but you smiled back at her nonetheless.

If love was something to be worked towards, you really hoped it would start working soon.

===+++===

You had only been home for about twenty minutes, when your phone started ringing. Off the hook. Over and over again. You knew who it was just from the ring, but that didn't mean you wanted to pick up.

After the disaster that was dropping Julie off at her house, you wanted to continue to staring at the ceiling. But after the sixth call back, it seemed Jackie wasn't giving up.

You picked the phone up with a frown, rolling over and smushing your chin into the bed. "Hello—"

"—OH MY GOD, YOU AND JULIE?!"

You groaned. "Jackie I dropped her off like thirty minutes ago, how do you already know about this?"

"So it's true?! You're dating?"

You sat up. "What? No, we just went on one date."

"Really? Cause Julie told Margie who told Randy who told Jeff, who told me that you kissed her and you're going out!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I didn't kiss her, she kissed me. And it wasn't even like an actual kiss, she like, pecked me, and then scrambled out of my car and up her driveway."

"Well, she's saying you're going steady."

"'Going steady?' The 40s called, they wanted their slang back."

"Ha ha," Jackie said back, and you could hear the eye roll. She went silent. "...I bet your mom is happy."

"Probably..."

"Are you happy? You're probably a shoe-in for prom court, especially since I'll be out of town. Your mom won't let you go to nationals, will she?"

"No. She'll want me and Julie to go to prom together."

"Well, I mean, at least you'll win, right? That's gotta be exciting?"

You looked over to your nightstand, where you had a polaroid of you and Nat that sat taped to the side. "Thrilled."

"(Y/n)? You okay, hubby?"

You took a sharp swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Julie's great."

"Right...," she paused again, "does Nat...does she know?"

"I don't think so... It's only been like, thirty minutes."

"She will soon, though. Monday."

"Yeah...I guess she will soon."

===+++===

Monday was terrible. It seemed Julie had taken the awkward attempt at kissing you as the sign that you were together. She was there at your car when you first arrived, grinning again while you and Lottie got your things for school out of the second row. Then, the moment you had locked your car, you were tugged along by a hand grabbing yours.

You didn't exactly have a good reason to be grossed out. Julie was beautiful, and if you had felt the same way for her, you would have been thrilled with the enthusiasm. Hell, if it were... well. So, you mostly let her drag you wherever she wanted.

There was about a week, to run for prom court. Your mother had promptly called you that morning to insist on prom, and insist on shopping for prom, when she returned home on Wednesday, from Monaco. It was all Julie would talk about, and you were starting to wonder how much of this was a political move for her too, rather than one of genuine interest in you.

You first saw Nat coming down one of the halls, and you hesitated a bit the moment you saw that she noticed you. Or, that she noticed you and Julie together. It was the walk of shame, frankly. You didn't belong to her, in any formal sense. But your heart did, and that was enough for it to hurt. Badly.

It seemed to hurt her too. She immediately frowned, tugging on Kevyn's sleeve and walking in the opposite direction. You wanted to run after her, but Julie had an iron grip on your hand and a smile so bright.

It was awkward enough at lunch, with Julie insisting to sit next to you and to bring her golf friends. A few of them were nice, and Jackie managed to chat them up well enough to make even more friends than before, but Lottie had a frown the entire time, and Shauna looked less than happy.

Nat wasn't staring at you at lunch anymore. It was a startling realisation, that you wanted her to be looking at you. If anything, you were looking more at her. You kept turning around, trying to seem like you were just scanning the cafeteria, but Nat was firmly looking down at her food, at the same table as always.

You felt like a runaway dog that had temporarily shrugged off its collar, trying to find home with a tail between its legs. Julie was nice, and smart, and talented. But she wasn't the one. Your one.

===+++===

"Hey, you ready?" you asked Lottie, finding her out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms. it was Friday, and you both had your soccer bags slung over your shoulder, and were about to head out to practice, but Lottie seemed transfixed on a poster on the wall. "Hey now, you've got nationals tomorrow, no distractions," you tried.

"Is she seriously trying to make it seem like you two are soulmates?" Lottie said with a grimace. It was one of the ones Julie had made in two days, and was now putting all over the school to really earn you both the win. There was a drawing of you and her on it, with a heart in the middle, and 'VOTE JULIE & (Y/N) FOR PROM COURT 1996.' It was an objectively good design, but Lottie didn't like Julie very much— or at least had started to hate her, the longer you and her were together.

"I think it's because she has a crush on you," Julie said once with a pout, after Lottie had been less than welcoming to her on a ride home.

"No she doesn't," you shook your head.

"She definitely does. You shouldn't hang out with her as much, or people will think you and her are a thing. I mean, I did at first."

The whole conversation had only made Lottie more and more annoyed with her, and that was saying a lot, with how Lottie was usually nice to most people.

"Come on," you said, gesturing with your head out towards the pitch. "Last practice before nationals."

Lottie still had a frown on her face, but she followed you out there with her arms crossed. It was still relatively early, only a few people were out. Coach Martinez's son Travis was up in the bleachers, watching, while you could see Trevor and Misty talking next to the water cooler and Jeremy and Mari passing a ball back and forth to each other.

"Hey (Y/n)," a voice called from behind you, and you could feel a similar annoyance to Lottie's washing over you. You turned to see Carter Avery, back from his suspension, with a cheeky smirk on his face. "Miss me?"

"Not even close," you scowled. He brushed past you and Lottie, pausing for a moment when he was directly in front of you staring down in an attempt at intimidation. He kept walking though, until he paused, right at the edge of the pitch.

"Oh, and (Y/n)?"

"What."

"I think I need to borrow some eggs. You got any for me?" Your eyes widened. "What about toilet paper, then?"

It was intended to create anger in you. You knew he wanted you to charge at him or something, or to scowl, but all you did was stand there, in a stunned silence. You had thought that Nat would do that. That Nat could do that to you. Of course it wasn't Nat. You felt stupid and you felt guilty, and you felt even worse that you couldn't do much about either of those things. You could try, though. And maybe that would be enough.

Lottie sent you a knowing look, but all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Maybe you could try to talk to her, after practice? It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

The Yellowjackets' moods were infectious, and it was impossible to not have a great time, at that practice. Their emotions were high, along with their excitement, and you started to feel a little bit better, the more you ran and the more you felt the wind in your hair.

Of course, that's when everything decided to go wrong. A single slide tackle from Taissa, right into Allie's leg, and everyone was panicking and yelling. You could see the bone sticking out from it, and Misty was bolting in your direction, hovering over her and attempting to right it.

"Can I get two people to carry her?" She shouted at both teams, and you immediately raised your hand, stepping forwards while Allie began to cry. You didn't even see who was grabbing her other arm until you had made it into the locker room, and Allie was still crying with Misty following behind and a very clueless looking Coach Ben behind her.

You should've known, it was her. She was selfless like that, even though she'd rather die than admit it herself. And yet, there Nat was, on the other side of Allie, laying her down on one of the locker room benches and raising her leg up. Misty ushered you both out into the hall, and suddenly both you and Nat were regretting volunteering.

You had to wait until she came out, so you would be able to carry her to the front, where the ambulance could arrive to take her to hospital, but until then it just meant you and Nat were forced to stand there in awkward silence.

It stayed that way, until you tried to speak. "So...nationals, hu—"

"Don't even," Nat snapped, shutting you up. She was twitching a little bit, in discomfort, and you knew right now that if it were outside, or if she were to have her bag, she would be pulling out a cigarette.

"...I know it wasn't you who egged my house. It was Carter... I'm...sorry."

"Real genius, aren't you."

"Allegedly. Not in practice, apparently," you admitted, sliding to the tiled floor in wait. She eyed you cautiously, but did the same, sliding down.

"Man, if I had a nickel, for every time we've been in this hallway with a serious injury... I'd have, what, two nickels?" You hummed, leaning your head back against the wall.

"That's not a lot," Nat said, rolling her eyes.

"No," you nodded in agreement, "but it's weird that it happened twice."

She thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I guess." You both could hear the whistle being blown outside, to end the final scrimmage and indicate that it was time to circle up.

"Don't you want to go hear that? Y'know, for tomorrow?"

Nat shook her head. "I'd rather be here for Allie. Though she's kind of an asshole."

You snorted. "She's a total fucking bitch."

"...Just so you know, I really did have to leave, after Lottie's party... I, uh, kissed your forehead, before I left... I guess you couldn't feel it though. You were asleep."

You shook your head. "I didn't know that..."

"...Yeah... my dad was being an asshole... it was a whole thing." You knew it hurt more than she was saying, right now, and you so desperately wanted to scoot closer, like you would've before things had gotten so messed up. Back when you were on the cusp of happiness.

"I'm sorry, Nat."

She shrugged again, like it didn't hurt, but you knew all too well. "For what?"

You would've said for being scared. For being weak. For not realising sooner. Anything. But instead you were interrupted by the sound of shoes on the tile.

Of course, there Julie had to be. She took a single look at Nat who was covered in sweat and a bit red from practice, and grimaced, before coming up to you and standing right over you, expectantly.

"Is practice over?" she asked, checking her watch. "I finished my club meeting. We have to go dress shopping— I want you there to colour match— and I need you to drop Margie off at her house, cause I said you would yesterday."

You blinked. "I mean... It kind of is? I should probably stay a bit—" you looked to Nat to see what she would say, but she was already standing up and walking off, taking the not so secret hint that Julie was telling her to get lost.

Julie watched her go, scowling behind her back and then spinning to you the moment the door clicked shut behind her. "What did she want with you?" she asked.

"We were just talking, Allie needed help."

"Well she's no good. She's one of those kids, y'know." You narrowed your eyes, getting up to your feet and wiping your hands on your shorts.

"What are you talking about?"

Julie tilted her head to the side, like she was confused by your confusion. "You must not have a lot of them, around here, but we had them all OVER, in Massachusetts. The town bicycles. Everyone wants a ride, if you know what I mean."

It was your turn to cross your arms. "No the hell I do not, Julie."

"Oh come on," she said, throwing up her hands. "She's trailer trash, at best. The delusional kind who thinks we'd look at her, like, ever. I mean, what's her body count, like over a hundred?"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you snapped at her, glowering.

"Okay, I know she's on the Yellowjackets, and she's clearly trying to get in your pants, but cmon. I'm your girlfriend, we can laugh about this kind of—"

"No, the hell you aren't. You're not my girlfriend, Julie, and you barely ever fucking were. That girl you just insulted is the best fucking person I know. She's selfless, she's kind, she makes me laugh—"

"Well then go sleep with her then!" Julie yelled, stomping her foot.

"Y'know what, I already have! And I fucking love her. So there!" And you turned right around and stomped back out onto the pitch.

===+++===

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you rolled your eyes, trudging down the stairs and calling out into the foyer. It wasn’t like whoever it was would actually be able to hear you, through the thickness of your door, if anything it was more to air your grievance with having to get up so fucking late. Your mom was once more distraught, now that you had kept the "perfect" girl for a single week and then promptly dumped her. Another vacation was in order.

Rain was still pounding on the roof from above, and it filled the emptiness of your house with a faint white noise, that was immediately shattered by the person pressing the button again. You rolled your eyes, deciding to walk even slower to the door out of nothing but spite.

When you actually opened the door, though, you had to blink a couple times, seeing a figure retreating already, down your drive. However long you had took had made them rethink why they were here, and you would've been all too happy to let the door close. That was, until you narrowed your eyes into the rain, just barely making out the shape of a familiar leather jacket.

"Nat?" You called into the storm, loud enough that there was no way she couldn't have heard you. You crossed your arms, thinking about how she had been earlier that day. "I know it's you, Natalie. Why the fuck are you here? You have nationals tomorrow."

She stopped in her tracks, just standing in it. She gently turned, shoulders rising and falling and it was clear she was breathing heavily. Her mascara was running in massive streaks down her face and dripping in small, grey droplets, and her eyes were sensitive and red, as if she had been crying and rubbed them raw. You swallowed what felt like a lump in your throat.

"This— all of this, with you— I— I can't," she stumbled, looking like a sad, wet dog in the rain.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows at her, walking out further onto your large, covered doorstep.

"I can't see you with her, (Y/n), I— I just can't."

"With Julie?"

Natalie threw up her arms in frustration. "Yes, Julie. I know she's perfect, or whatever, but— I— you can't be with her—"

"—Nat," you tried, stepping forward again.

"—Because I love you," she continued. You stopped in your tracks. It felt as if the air had been sucked right out of your lungs, even in the freshness brought by the storm. "I know we argue," her voice shook, "and I know we fight, and I know I smoke, and I curse, and I get bad grades, and my dad's a shithead, and I'm kind of an asshole sometimes— but I fucking love you, (Y/n). You.... I—"

"—Shut up," you said, shaking your head and rushing forward, out into the pouring storm. You collided with her, cupping her face in your cheeks and kissing her like the world would end in ten minutes. It would have, if you hadn't done it, and you had no idea how you had survived so long without doing it.

You kissed her once, and then you kissed her again, and then, when she was crying harder, and you were crying too, and she was holding onto your arms like you would fall away, you kissed her forehead, and held her tight in a hug.

"I'm selfish, and I'm a mess, and I'm never good enough for my stupid fucking parents," you said, over the rain and just for Nat, "and I don't realise that I hurt people 'cause that's not what my family does, and for that, I'm really, really fucking sorry."

She nodded in her tears, looking up at you as you both got rained on together. "But, I agree," you said, voice shaking, "we're not casual. I'm really, really fucking sorry, but I also really, really fucking love you, Nat. And I'm sorry I was too scared and too stupid, and," you raised your voice, as if to the sky, "I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING GO TO PRINCETON—" this time it was Nat who shut you up.

It was another kiss, but it was far more gentle than the first. It was a gentle press, and it took your breath away. When you pulled apart, you let your forehead fall against Natalie's. Even though the droplets were cold, you felt so warm.

After what felt like forever, but still wasn't long enough, Nat murmured to you, "should we go inside?" She still smelled like cigarettes and her perfume, just as she had in her trailer, and you intended to let the scent linger.

You shook your head. "Just stay out here a little longer with me. Please? Just let time pass."

She nodded, then smirked as she looked past you at the car on your driveway. "Fuckin' rich people."

===+++===

AAAAAND THAT'S CASUAL BABYYYYY! Finished at like 2 am. anyways, i'm tired and a little bit sleepy

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

[propertyofwhitney67]

I JUST SAW THE EVENT POST OKK

My request: M!whitney with F!PC with like... Pregnancy/lactation content. I feel like Whitney would get so possessive over a pregnant PC. My idea is probably mixed with jealousy too tbh.

I imagine a PC that starts lactating in the middle of class, everyone starts making fun- before whitney jealously claims her in front of everyone by fucking her.

Let me know if it's too specific! Definetly take some liberties I like seeing what you might come up with :)

Attention Whore

Whitney x AFAB!Reader

Prompt event: Pregnancy and Lactation

Words: 914

Tw: Pregnancy, lactation, smut, public sex,

Note: I'm sorry this took so long, I hope it's ok <3

River’s lesson was practically putting me to sleep, the same boring trig shit. I didn’t understand any of it, and Whitney’s constant distractions didn’t help. I decided to give up a long time ago on it, it wasn’t like I was going to need it anyway.

Exhaustion was catching up with me, and this was only the second class of the day. This pregnancy was kicking my ass, I’m tired all the time, my breasts are sore, and so many other fucking things that I don’t even want to think about. I would curse Whitney, but he’d only say I was practically begging for it.

I moved my desk closer to Whitney and rested my head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, looking down at me with a smirk, then going back to fucking around with his friends. At least he was ok with this whole thing. He was terrified at first, but he’s since come to terms with it and is sticking by my side.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I was awoken by the sound of laughing. I tensed, opening my eyes to find River bracing himself against his desk and some students pointing at me. I looked up at Whitney for some kind of answer, but he wasn’t looking at me. His body was tense and he was staring down one of his friends. 

Lifting my head, I got a better understanding of what was happening. They were laughing at me, something about–oh fuck…Breast milk had soaked through my shirt, leaving wet spots. I immediately tried covering my chest before Whitney tossed me his jacket, hitting me in the face. I didn’t complain, putting on the jacket and watching him knock his friend to the ground. I assume they were the one to start this whole thing.

Normally River pulls them apart pretty quickly, but it seems he’s passed out. My lactation must have really gotten to him for some reason. The man faints too easily.

Whitney wasn’t holding back, really making sure to hurt the guy. The other guy got in a few punches too, but it was obvious Whitney was winning. I’m surprised how protective Whitney has become of me since I told him I was pregnant with his kid. I’m not complaining though, it’s nice. I also love seeing him covered in blood, so that's a plus.

Once he got out his anger, he turned to me with that look in his eyes. His nose was bleeding and his knuckles were bloody and starting to bruise. He pulled me out of the chair and to the ground, straddling my waist. “Whitney…?” I asked, somewhat afraid he was gonna do what I thought he was gonna do. Well, not afraid, more annoyed than anything.

“Quiet, slut.” He whispered in my ear, “I’m showing them who owns you.” He pulled up my shirt, exposing my breasts and baby bump. 

I hated the looks and whispers I’d get about my bump, they made me feel like some kind of common whore. It’s most noticeable when I’m naked or wearing tight clothes, so I do my best to hide it with baggy clothes, but that’s not always viable. 

He roughly squeezed my breast, causing me to gasp and more milk to leak out. I felt my face heat up at the cheers and shouting, “Fuck her!” “Make her cum!” “Make her beg!” “I want to see her cunt!” Their words only encouraged him more, flipping up my skirt and showing off my bare cunt. “Good girl.” He smirked, happy I was following the rules. 

I whined, my hormones betraying me. “Whitney…” Between the crude statements and Whitney’s touch, I could feel myself getting wet. I want–no, I need him to claim me in front of all these people.

“You’re such an attention whore.” Whitney chuckled, freeing his fat cock from his pants. He traced my slit with his cock, mixing his precum with my wetness. “So needy,” He pushed past my folds, resting the head of his cock against my tight hole. “So desperate for my cock to split you open in front of everyone.” He smirked down at me, squeezing my breast again. “Isn’t that what you want, slut?”

A small nod from me was all it took for him to roughly thrust inside my tight hole. “Fuck...” I moaned, his cock stretching me out perfectly.

He grunted in my ear, bottoming out inside me. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He set a fast but steady pace, easily hitting that perfect spot inside me every time.

My body was sensitive and it didn’t take long after that for him to pull an orgasm from me. “Whitney!” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my nails into his back. “Please…fuck…” I whined as he fucked me through my orgasm, searching for his own.

He grunted and with one last thrust he came, painting my fall white with his cum. “Fucking slut…” He groaned, resting his forehead against mine.

I tuned out all the shouting and camera shutters, smiling as I felt him rubbing my growing stomach with his thumb. “We should probably get out of here.” I whispered to Whitney. I was tired and needed a new shirt and I’m sure he doesn’t want to deal with River’s shit when he wakes up.

“Taking you back to my place,” He smirked, helping me up from the ground and fixing my clothes, “I’m not done with you yet.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[ihatedtoadmit]

Silent solitude

pairing: Han Jisung x gn! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: self-hatred; possibly too much adoration for this man, but I am dying inside and unapologetic

word count: ~1.2k

summary: You still hated the days where talking felt impossibly tiring, but now they felt bearable with him by your side.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

It was supposed to be a normal day. A day filled with nothing out of the ordinary, a day of comfortable habits and practised motions.

And yet, it wasn’t.

When I first woke up, I hadn’t realised it yet. I hadn’t noticed that harrowing feeling, that urge, creep in yet, no. Everything was normal. Sure, my joints cracked as I started moving after sleeping peacefully all night, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Neither was the notification mountain that greeted me after I unlocked my phone, although that was mostly thanks to the group chat my chaotic friends shared and joked around in.

As I started my morning routine to look at least a bit presentable for a long day of work ahead, I scrolled through the messages slowly, quietly laughing at a few specific ones. It took me a while to go through every single person and message, only done by the time I was ready to leave the house, yet I still took the time to respond to all of them. I didn’t want to worry anyone, after all, especially not my hardworking significant other.

Work was the same as always, draining and demanding, but again, I was used to it. There had always been an army of emails to check, a mountain of papers to go through and analyse, countless datasheets needing to be filled and changed. It came with the nature of the field I chose to work in, I knew that all too well when I decided to study for it.

But somehow with every person that came to me for something, be it work-related or just a quick and friendly chat, I felt more and more empty. As if a gaping hole that had been sealed away long ago was slowly being released, gradually taking over every single cell in my exhausted body.

At first I didn’t really notice it fully. Merely chalked it all up to being tired, or that it was just one of those days once again.

I only registered this distressing feeling when it was too late, my mind annoyed by every small and seemingly useless chat, my mouth shut and feeling too heavy to operate. By then, my tongue had long been stuck to the roof of my mouth, an uncomfortable pain coursing through me as I peeled it off slowly.

In a way, I was right. It was, in fact, one of those days, just not one where I was in random pain or feeling anxious or even depressed. No, it was one filled with silent solitude, something that always came and went suddenly, with no explanation. I hated these days, where talking felt too taxing, something that should have been a basic human function, easy to execute. Days where I sought after other’s trusted presence, yet couldn’t bear to actively communicate with them.

I hated myself.

And so, immediately after work I cocooned myself with a soft blanket and laid down on the plush cushions of the sofa, mindlessly watching some kind of random kdrama on Netflix. I couldn’t find the energy in me to watch anything truly engaging, to watch a show that would certainly get my mind to think and spin stories for it out of adoration.

I’d stayed like that for hours, for the rest of the day, only realising how late it had gotten when I heard the door open and close. His voice called out, greeting me, and I mustered up all the strength I had in me to hum back just loud enough so he could hear it.

The thud of his bag hitting the floor could be heard, followed by a tired sigh and approaching footsteps.

“Hey jagi, how are you? Long day at work?” - Jisung asked, our eyes meeting on the black screen of the TV that must have turned off while I was spaced out.

I hummed back once again, slightly curling up on myself further as I watched his eyebrows furrow at my silent answer, expression saturated with worry and concern. He watched me for a few more seconds, as if debating something, and I hated how I couldn’t bring myself to ask the questions I wanted to, to ask about his day and if he enjoyed his time with the boys. I despised it.

Jisung sputtered out an ‘I will be right back!’ and before I could even attempt at acknowledging it, he rushed off, feet heavily hitting the floor in his rush. It was my turn to furrow my eyebrows, but more out of confusion rather than concern, not really knowing what the cause could have been for the idol’s sudden actions.

Although I didn’t need to ponder for long, his dishevelled form appeared just a few minutes later before my bundled up one, a bright smile sitting permanently on his face. I watched carefully as he made himself comfy on the sofa beside me, his own fluffy blanket around him and nearly swallowing him whole. And just as I thought he was done, foolishly, might I add, his arms reached towards me from underneath their hiding place and pulled me flush against him, my head resting comfortably atop his steadily beating chest.

He laid down, arms gently cradling my curled up form, that beloved heart-shaped smile never leaving his lips as he started talking about his day, completely unprompted. I nearly jerked at the sound of his first sentence, my grip only strengthening over his clothes once I had realised what he was doing.

I didn’t need to ask him for it.

I did not need to utter even a single syllable for him to speak to me, for him to so lovingly cradle me to his chest, hand carefully gliding through my hair in a perpetually repeating, soothing motion. My lips wobbled as I felt the dam inside me slowly crumbling, the world becoming blurry in my tired eyes. I couldn’t help but seek refuge in the crook of his neck, listening to the slight hitch in his voice that otherwise kept steadily talking.

And so I laid there with him, hidden underneath a sea of blankets, safely caged inside his gentle hold and surrounded by his adored voice. Never once did he stop, to pry out the reason for my state, not a single time. He continued telling me stories, laughing or grumbling at whatever had happened, leaving behind tender touches on my skin.

By the time he’d stopped talking, I was near the lands of sleep, his presence comforting my broken soul.

“It’s okay to feel like this, you know. Even if you find talking difficult on some days, I know you’re still the same person who cares about us, about me. Your love isn’t bound to your words, jagi. Besides, if you want to tell me something, you can always just send a message to me on your phone, I understand. Love you, jagiya.” - he murmured out, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head that lingered there long enough for my chest to squeeze painfully out of pure love and warmth.

I slipped into a deep slumber with tear-stained cheeks, his final sentences completely destroying the fragile dam residing inside, letting that warmth-filled rain to break free.

[impossibleprincess35]

Since you're an American, what are your thoughts on the comparisons of the Duchess and the Death Watch to the election? I read one of your stories and you compare them to alt-right politics in the U.S. Thx!

Heyoooooo, thanks for the ask! I'm going to go TL;DR, so please forgive me and feel free to wish you'd never asked. :)

So, I've never been a Trump voter. Never. It's been a major point of contention with close family and friends, and in the 8 years since his first campaign, it has been eye opening watching people blatantly fall for fascism in the guise of security and strength.

And so, during the pandemic, dealing with so much misinformation and seeing so many people subject others to danger to make a point about their "freedom," when I rewatched "The Clone Wars," the Mandalore storylines hit so much harder.

A lot of times, when people are hating on the Satine character and blaming her for Mandalore's fall, what I see is a lack of acknowledgement that Death Watch was so hell-bent on getting their way that they had to stage incidents to make her look weak and unfit as a ruler. They weren't starving. They weren't exiled from their system. They got a moon. They had political representation with a governor. They had resources. But instead of using everything at their disposal to do better and to evolve as a people, they used it to stage bombings, attacks, and incidents that only hurt their own people and undermined their own system.

But what Death Watch did so well was they spun a narrative that is so false that even FANS believe it.

Like, we're supposed to see that they're domestic terrorists.

But people are out here like, "Fuck Satine, she's the worst."

Oh, okay.

As an American, I've seen two viable, suitable female candidates who have lost to Donald Trump, a piece of shit grifter, a convicted felon, an impeached dirtbag of a human being, and BOTH of these women have lost.

The bar is so high for them, and it's so low for Trump.

And I see that with Satine Kryze and Pre Vizsla.

The damning theories about Satine committing genocide on her people and white-washing them of their history and culture are assumptions made from information given to us on the show by Almec, who turns out to be as corrupt as Pre Vizsla and Tal Merrik, and inferred from the animation choices made due to budget constraints; but those things are held over Satine's head and her reputation as though they are gospel. As though she herself confirmed them.

Meanwhile, Pre Vizsla is out here running an entire terrorist group that intends to destabilize Mandalore's peaceful government just to reassert themselves as strong warriors. He has shown us who he is. He shows us every time we see him on screen after his reveal as the leader of Death Watch. He commits himself to it. He has gaggles of lackeys behind him putting him up on a pedestal, enabling him.

But Satine's always the villain, and always to blame; nevermind the fact that she has proven herself to be a resilient leader who put her people above all else, including her own desires, and she fights to keep them out of the fray between the Republic and the Separatists. More than anything else, their stability and their independence is her top priority.

And I guess, for me, I see strength in Satine's diplomacy, strength in her kindness, strength in her restraint; so when I see people who only acknowledge strength in name calling, in divisiveness, in threats of violence, like Pre Vizsla and Death Watch, I'm instantly reminded of the crowd of American politics who believe that we must bully our way around the world.

The bar for women, especially women of color, is set so high that it's unattainable; but the bar for men is so low it's in hell.

And as an American who voted for Vice President Kamala Harris, and who was genuinely thrilled to imagine a Harris/Walz administration, I've found myself annoyed by the remarks about her that I've read. The claims that she's not tough. That she couldn't hold her own with a room of world leaders. Because I don't see that. And I'm heartbroken to see that the popular vote wanted brute force and displays of bully behavior instead of a steady, calm hand to bring us together as a nation.

Worst of all, I fear the very possible outcome that, much like Mandalore, Americans are sacrificing their liberties for what they believe is security (ie. the xenophobic hate and the border talking points, lower grocery prices, etc.), but like Ben Franklin said, they'll lose both and deserve neither.

And in Mandalore's case, the people were scammed into believing that Satine failed them, when really, the attack on Sundari was an inside job - and when the flames of fear were stoked, the people turned on Satine, on peace, for the safety they believed Death Watch was going to bring them.

And then their asses got glassed by the Empire.

I look at what's going on around me, and I'm disappointed because I'm a dumb optimistic bitch who believed Americans were better than this. And there's a lot of blame to go around, but the vibe is off and things do not feel right. My gut tells me that the game was rigged - that Madam VP Harris was meant to fail from the word go, because the right aligned themselves to win at all costs, even at the costs of their own nation.

But Jyn Erso said it best: Rebellions are built on hope.

So, hopefully we don't get glassed..?

Jesus, how do I even end this post?

I'm sorry. I know you're wishing you'd never asked. <3

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word tag

Still making my way through this pile up

Thanks @aziz-reads for the tag!

My words: yearn, few, tense, bounce

Your words: bet, unique, glare, pleasure

Tagging @little-peril-stories @blind-the-winds @thepeculiarbird @andyswritings @sarahlizziewrites @jezifster @jessicagailwrites @little-mouse-gardens @buffythevampirelover @emabatis @revenantlore @fairy-tales-of-yesterday @hallowedfury or anyone who sees this

Keep reading for:

Robbie and Akash angst?? Usually they're so funny!?

Everyone is concerned about Maddie except Maddie

Ash is conflicted about making a bad decision but ultimately makes a bad decision

Akash knocks himself out (this is like the third time I've posted an excerpt from this scene)

Yearn Longed (closest synonym) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

The bell rang for class to start, but I blocked it out. I hated the way people treated Akash. I turned to him. He was updating his planner for the week, but I could tell that he could hear the whispers, too. Hated them, too. As much as they upset me, I honestly couldn’t imagine how they must affect him. It wasn’t all negative. Just Jason, his buddies, and a couple of other racist and/or ableist dicks. Some were sweet to him, but not because he was a cool guy—which he totally is—but because he was different. “Special.” He was a person, like everyone else. I wasn't so pessimistic that I believed everyone was only nice to him because of his disability, but I was realistic enough to know that people just act differently around someone who was, well, different, even subconsciously. Because of this, Akash and I hadn’t made a giant friend group over the years like either of us wanted. Maybe one day. There were plenty of people who liked me—an annoying amount of people, who did the same thing they did to Akash. They had a certain idea of who I was. I supposed a lot of us did that. But a large friend group seemed awesome and was something I longed for. But despite that feeling of isolation, I didn’t care much, since I had Akash. We were both a little lonely, but being lonely together was better than being lonely alone. Wow, that was a bit of a sappy thought, I thought to myself as the bell rang. I feel like that’s something Pooh said. Jesus, I haven’t thought about Pooh in years. I tapped Akash’s desk and whispered, “We need to watch all the Winnie the Pooh movies.” “I’d love to know how your brain got to that topic. Though I agree.” I laughed to myself and turned to face our teacher as class started.

Few - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

“Alright,” said Wade, holding out a hand. “Can you stand?” I grabbed his hand and he helped me to my feet. I felt a little lightheaded, but nothing really hurt anymore. I gave him a thumbs-up. The crowd that formed very awkwardly began to thin. I heard a few comments asking again if I was okay, despite me saying I was. I kept holding the thumbs up until it was just me, Sam, and Liam. “One more round?” I asked, still holding the thumbs up. “No!” Sam cried, cheeks shiny with tears. “You heard Lexi; I could have killed you!” “You didn’t.” Sam’s face scrunched up before she stalked toward the elevator. I turned to Liam. “I’m fine, though, I swear.” “Yeah, now,” Liam said firmly. His arms crossed over his chest. “Kiddo, you didn’t see yourself. You looked pretty bad. Most of your bones were probably broken based on how much Wade stitched you up. Probably some internal bleeding!” “The blood’s supposed to be inside.” Liam bit his lip like he was trying not to laugh, but he looked angry about it. He sighed, pressing his palms together and resting his forehead against the tips of his fingers. “I did this so I could see where your gaps were in my teaching. You have shifting down very well. Now, you need to assess yourself and how you’re doing. And Sam is right. You’re done for today.” “It’s not even lunch, though.” “Then the morning, but no heavy stuff after this, okay?” I ran my tongue over my braces. “Alright.” “Go take a shower,” Liam said, more gently than he usually spoke.

Tense - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

I turned onto my left side to face the rest of the room. Rose was curled up on the floor in the fetal position. Lexi lay on her stomach, her arm dangling off the couch. Noelle was on her side, almost log-like, though her arms stretched out in front of her. Gwen, too, was on her side on the recliner across the room, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. Their dreams, I could sense. I couldn’t say what they were about, but I could feel how they made them feel. Calm, tense, uncomfortable—I didn’t like it. But I did. Giving up trying to sleep, I sat upward, placing my feet on the floor and feeling the carpet between my toes. I felt the coin-shaped devices shift in my pocket and pulled them out. I stared at them in my palm, the dim light from electronic clocks and the kitchen being the only things allowing me to see. At least with my eyes. My finger brushed the surface of the devices. They were overall smooth, but there were ridges, all in a radial pattern around their center. I felt their power pulse into the pad of my finger, causing my body to shudder. When I’d used them earlier, they allowed me to wake everyone I accidentally knocked out. However, I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t consider they were what made me sick in the first place. Maybe they were what was crying out to me the entire time I was in Alium. An insane thought—I was a thirty-minute walk away when I’d collapsed. Carla mentioned the power activation was likely simply because I was now in Alium. But no one else had the ease that I did. What if it was these devices? That would explain a lot. I’d felt drawn to them. I ran my thumb over them like they were my rings. My curiosity piqued. It was like they were reaching out to me, specifically. Which was ridiculous to think about an inanimate object. Jedi had seemed worried after I told him what happened. He didn’t even want to go down the corridor. Maybe it was because of these. What could he be afraid of? Me unlocking my potential? Carla told me the mind had no limit, and these devices seemed to expand the limit. Maybe I shouldn’t use them just to explore, as much fun as that sounded. But I couldn’t sleep, and these things did help me earlier. Maybe they could help me sleep. It was worth trying, at least.

Bounce - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Gills told me I was defense. He’d understand. The real problem was Noelle. She grabbed Gills’ rock in pitch darkness. She could get me. I pulled harder on the stick. Noelle’s pull tightened, too. Smirking to myself, I let the stick go and flew upward—cutting through the air. Noelle grunted as the stick hit her with her own force. Once high enough, I shot toward the dragon, hoping to keep the momentum to pass through the dampening field and get the sphere. I knew it as soon as I passed. I lost my grip on the air and began to fall, but I latched onto the collar before doing so. Custos didn’t like that and tried to paw me off, but I managed to unclasp the sphere. “Haha!—oomph!” I celebrated until Custos did knock me off. I tried to feel when I passed the field, but the ground came fast, causing my entire body to shudder nauseously and the back of my skull to bounce off the floor, only to be hit again. I groaned. Custos apparently was too low to the ground for there to be air beneath the field. My ears rang as I felt around for the lid of the sphere and opened it the way Carmen demonstrated. “I got the feather!” I tried to say but knew I passed out before I could since it was suddenly a lot brighter. “Hey, Singh,” Gills said above me. “Did we win?” “Yeah, because you were an idiot and went right into the dampening field.” “You sound annoyed.” “Because my teammate passed out and had to be taken to the medbay. Do you know how dangerous it is to lose consciousness when you hit your head?” “But my plan worked.” “If this was real, you’d be dead.” “You’re welcome,” I grunted as I pulled myself up to a seated position.

[dancerofsong]

Regret

I feel so disgusting. so pathetic I could ever exist in humanity. Sometimes I think of how people could even view me as human if they ever saw my mind. If the family I was thrown into opened up my head, they would die from the disgusting horrors building inside, fantasies I wish to have to expel what monster was born. I can feel my horns on the inside, my 8-foot tongue, and my devilish features built into the girl. The weird girl with friends who wishes she left—the girl we all kind of hate but don't talk about enough to really care. I sometimes feel like the unused gym membership of people, so disgustingly annoying to be hurtful yet not enough for people to take the effort to stop talking to me. I feel worse with others than alone. When my mind takes over, I stop being a person and say what I want for attention, and to even think I could be human is funny.

Human? Humans have emotions; they can care. It's obvious that I must not care for anyone in this world. You see, if I did, I wouldn't be here; I would be at a party and would be having fun, not alone in my kitchen. I'm typing a pity-party letter to myself like I'm insane. I think I'm kind of insane—just enough to be this pathetic but not enough to get sent away. The idea of board school is intriguing; it sent me away, trash off to another state. To be abused and disemboweled as I speak out of turn, to cut my toes off every time my voice is slightly louder than necessary. Yet among the worst, I can be a trouble. My voice is a work of nightmares; my smile reeks of evil; and my eyes are sinister.

I AM A MONSTER

the type you find in circus cages. 2 sizes too small. To be pitied and laughed at, throw your popcorn as I walk the tightrope of shame. A show made for humans, The Human Race, was designed to laugh at such vomit-inducing animals. The human race was designed to laugh at me. To wish to be loved, to wish I could function, I wonder what such a gift would be like. I talk with a never-ending mouth of dark secrets that are too unbearable to hold. So I dream.

Dreams

Dreams take me to places I have never seen, like boyfriends, friend groups, and love. Love drives the world either through desire, lust, or happiness. The absence of love kills sadness and grief. But can you be sad if you never had love to begin with? To feel empty among the empty, to be alone among the alone. To function as an empty vessel, mimicking the voices of others, combined to become a fake. The puppet wanders around. Have you ever seen a human with no heart, brain, lungs, or blood? I feel no emotion other than pain and a desire for more. Which is why I dream of abuse and the thrilling pain of abuse. Physical, mental, verbal, social, and financial. Power held over my head as I played with my puppet strings. I don't want to be slapped, and I don't want to be punched. I want to be degraded and have blood spill. I want to watch Bruises every day. I desire to see my juices fill the floor on the white tiles as spit hits my forehead and my vision gets blurry. I wish to be the wife; they all have pity for marrying the wife beater. I wish to be the reason the 6:00 a.m. calls from the police are made. I wish to be made into a pet. yet to never leave, knowing if I did I would be empty again. If I'm not abused, I speak the devil's tongue of torment. Ruining my life gives me guilt. I can't hold any more; my shoulders hurt. Words flow so easily out of me that I can't force them down too much, or else they leave my mouth. I need a strong man to punch me so hard that my jaw is out of place. My teeth need to fall out, and my tongue should be cut out and burned to death. I want to be forced to never communicate and let my words burn deep inside to the point where I couldn't even talk if I tried. The words I would say would be mumbles left to rot as my friends learn to work into their lives. and I act like a man would love me…

The heart

The organ that beats blood and oxygen around my body is the organ I wish to fail as fast as possible. I hope one day I either die or gain an emotional heart. The one we all have but don't. The one organ we separate from the brain beats and dances. She leaves her flowers for all to expect from me when I want them. If she visits, she gives me her rejection bouquet. The flowers that expired and consumed nothing but space. She reminds me that I'm disgusting by providing a smudged mirror… Till one day she leaves a flower, an alive one. He was born of the skies, gifted by God. He felt pity for all the dead flowers I had received. He had beauty and grace; he was a true man. I worshipped him; he gained a vase of water of purest property; she finally danced for me; every time I fed my plant or even smiled, she swayed and danced to the tunes of my eyes. I don't deserve such a flower; he was made to be watched at all hours of his life. God, I wish he was here to see all the works of art I have, all 294 in my gallery. He wasn't made for trash like me, the pathetic women of the world. The ones who live in pathetic filth and make due with pennies for funds and dollar-based appetites. He wants a pretty girl with skinny legs and long hair. The types of girls who do themselves pretty and think of their looks before their grades yet somehow end with perfect, As in every class. She who danced yet fought, she who was pretty and smart, she who was skinny and curved, she who smiled with humanity, She is a sex symbol; she is an American bombshell; she is perfect inside and out; she is someone who could be subservient to a man yet work if needed. She of dreams, she of realities unknown; she is who he deserves, yet she is not me. I can't dance nor fight, I speak loudly and it can irritate, I was not pretty nor was I smart, I'm not skinny yet my curves are incorrect, I smiled from fear and anxiety, I of average, I of ignored, I of "who is she?" I of "Ugh, I hate her." I of "Can you believe she did…!" I of insect, I of bug, and I of animal. I desire a good beating, not just two fingers; I want the entire hand, not just one soft item; break your bottles on my head; watch me bleed for men who hear my name and say who? Watch me suffer for boys who think of me once or twice. In their lifetime, to watch my flower, I would give my left lung; to hear him say my name, I would donate my arm and my kidney; to have him even talk to me, I would give up ownership of my rights and become property. The sacrifices I would make to be loved are horrifying.

[smoochkooks]

I just read the ACOSF bonus chapter again just to feel something and man, what if Gwyn is Azriel's true mate and Elain will see it beforehand because she's a Seer? And that would make her distance herself from him and choose Lucien over her own happiness? JUST IMAGINE THE ANGST.

Azriel seems to be subconsciously drawn towards Gwyn and he can't help those feelings, judging by his (and his Shadows!) behaviour in that bonus chapter. Yet Elain doesn't feel the same about Lucien, which makes me lean towards this theory that it's not a true mating bond but something Cauldron made to emulate it.

I love suffering so imagine the sixth book being Elain-centered. Her story of becoming a Fae - a creature she's been afraid of her entire life. How much she struggles with it still. Imagine the throwback chapters where Azriel shows her the garden because he knows it brings her comfort. When he watches her gardening, sits with her in the sun, how their friendship starts to bloom and transforms into something more with the time they spend together. How everyone saw her as a tool because of her abilities yet Azriel was the only one willing to get to know her as a person. The dangerous Shadowsinger, with blood on his hands, being the only person she feels comfortable with. Not her mate, not even her sisters. HIM!!!

And then the Solstice night. Imagine the scene where Elain spots Gwyn wearing the necklace meant for her. The betrayal she feels? The heartbreak? How she thought she could finally have something for herself and not be miserable all the time? And maybe she has a vision – she sees Gwyn being Azriel's mate and that's a turning point for her when she decides to accept the mating bond with Lucien. Imagine him taking her to the Autumn Court and her struggling again because she doesn't feel good there. And maybe she has a vision again – she sees Azriel in great danger and runs back to the Night Court to help? What if she sacrifices herself to save him?

I know many ACOTAR readers for some reason hate Elain because she's just "annoying flower girl" (the misogyny tho lol not every female character has to be a badass warrior, fuck off) but I personally think she's a tragic figure. She lost her fiancée after she became Fae, she lost her chance at happiness as a human. She was given a mate – a concept she didn't understand – who was a complete stranger. Everyone expected something of her when she was clearly hurting. Lucien expected her to show him signs of reciprocating their mating bond. Feyre expected her to settle down in a foreign land and start living as a Fae like nothing ever happened. Rhys probably expected her to start spitting prophecies left and right. And just when she has started to feel better, like maybe she does fit in this world, it was ripped from her. She sees her sisters being happy and all lovey-dovey with her mates and she must think: "What is wrong with me? Why can't I feel the same about Lucien?". I just can't bring myself to imagine her slowly growing fond of Lucien and falling for him. Even if she chooses him, I feel like a part of her would still yearn for Azriel – the one that got away.

[d1xkrider]

Blood sucker

Vampire hunter Black! gn reader x Vampire Angel Devil

warnings. (Some warnings are serious others are just things I want people to know).

cursing(not as much),

-

you rip your arrow out of the young vampire's ribs and clutch its heart in between your fingers. “You are such a nuisance.” Annoyed you sighed placing the arrow back in your stack. You start to walk over to your motorcycle but realize something’s off. “Boring. How quickly you notice things truly upsets me.” The voice groaned. It was a vampire with gorgeous pale skin, red hair, a white turtle neck, and black pants but no shoes? His lashes flutter somehow his precence made you feel cautious but entertained. This guy... what does he want from you?

He was floating in the air admiring the anger in your eyes and rotating himself to be set on the dirt floor. “Relax, I’m not planning on killing you.” He reassured but that didn't stop you from gripping your dagger tightly. "You know you can't kill me with that. Even if you try, trust me. Many before you have died looking as determined as you." I swiftly throw my dagger and immediately like reflex grab my arrow ready to attack. Instead, he pushes my arm again deflecting my move and seeing past my fast reflexes, I was fast

but he is much faster.

My back collapses onto the hard dirt floor. As i gasp at the sudden feeling his knee pierces right into my abdomen making me unable to move anywhere.

"You know. Im, not one to go out of my way to do anything slightly physical. Blinking itself is such a pain." He spoke in a soft voice ignoring my grunts of resistance. "But I have been watching you for a while. And I must say I am rather interested in you."

He pulls my hands above my head and intertwines them as he eyes me. He leans in as his hair covered my face. He was so close that his breath hits my nose., Blood. the smell of blood and a hint of mint I smelt. I wasn't disgusted by this scent but felt that I was weakened by a lot, this man as small as a car door is straddling me like some weakling holding me down with ease. I hated it, I hated feeling weak, I have felt weak and belittled by these species for as long as I can remember. No more. I cannot stand it. I refuse to believe I am being handled like this.

Make it stop. Please make it stop.

"Your heart...It sped up. Why is that so?" He questioned. He waits for my answer but I do not speak. I cannot let it hear the tremble in my voice. I couldn't let him know this bone-crushing position hurts even when he does he has no proof. I can't cry. I am a proud Vampire killer and we do not tremble or cry to no one.

The gorgeous blood-sucking creature uses this moment to pierce his nails into the back of my palms with the hope of hearing my voice but I do not give him that privilege.

"Even when you can feel your blood leaking out of you you still manage to stay silent, so amusing you are." I could hear the glee in his voice but his face is stone cold with curiosity within his eyes. "I have been following you for quite some time now. I was curious on how you could keep on going, when you have lost so much."

He spoke like he knew me. Like he knew everything that has led up for me to become a vampire hunter. Deaths, sacrifices, betrayal, and being used. His face is so hard to read making me turn my head away from his demanding stare. "Uh uh face me. I want to see how you react to my words." He lets go of one of my hands and forces my head back into place.

"Why me." I forced. His eyes brighten. He lifts himself off me giving me an opening. I kick his stomach as hard as I could and pull myself back and away from him. My legs felt weak like I hit a wall of bricks. The man holds his stomach unfazed and sighs. "I knew you were going to do that." He shakes his head. "Im going to fucking kill you!" I screamed taking out a large red faded dagger. "Can't you see? You cannot kill me." He starts to take a few steps forward ignoring my poor attempts at leaping at him and stabbing. "I can hear your thoughts y'know." He deflects my moves and slams my head against a tree making me twist up in rage. "Your heartbeat is so emotional and loud." He grabs my wrist and forces me onto the same tree and just stays there. I struggled for so long, that I felt exhausted. His face made me so angry and the way he speaks so monotone. I just couldn't.

I stop moving completely. "I want to know one thing and one thing only." He whispered.

"And what the fuck is it?" I spat.

"Why do you try so hard to live. When there is nothing for you to go back to."

I didn't know how to reply to what he said. Since he was correct, nothing is waiting for me anymore. But my will to live still is within me. He stares at me waiting for an answer, any answer. His lips quiver and his eyes dart to every discoloration, bruise, hair, and mark on my face. I gulp the lump that has formed within my throat hard. "I don't know," I said. He stares at me for a little longer and grits his teeth together.

"They gotta be around here somewhere!" I heard many voices at the entrance of the forest and a sigh of relief. "These fuckers take so long to save one of their own," I said. When I looked back at the redhead he had vanished without a trace. I stand up holding the parts that hurt and try to make it out of the forest Blood drips from my body and I groan every time I take a step. Birds flutter and branches broke. commotion getting louder and louder and-

"Holy shit what happened to you?!" A man asked with expensive body gear at each part of his body.

"Vampires," I replied before collapsing into a deep sleep.

=

Even though I have been saved, the ache did not leave my heart. I still felt hopeless, lost, and weak.

The more I think about what happened the more it affected how I lived. How could I let such a blood-hungry animal speak about me in such interest?

and why do i long to speak to him again.....

-end-

(pt2?)

[backpack-banter]

Unrequited and Forbidden

CU: Merlin (TV Show)

Character: Guinevere

Prompt: This is the story of how I died. Don't worry though! I come back.

Word count: 1947

Warnings: N/A

This is the story of how I died. Don't worry though! I come back. Believe it or not, it all started in Camelot. 

It was six hour before the feast began, and three before the envoy would arrive. The castle of Camelot was buzzing with life and the streets were full of whispers.

"I heard that their princess 'as kicked 'bout e'ry servent she's 'ad," Milderd always had a wild imagination and a keen ear, I should have expected as much when I first arrived in the kitchens. "Really? I heard she's afraid of chickens!" Astrid barked heavily, chopping up onions as she spoke.

"Now, now ladies it's not nice to gossip," I lifted the basket of fresh market vegetables onto the bench. "When did you ge' so proper miss L/N?" Mildred hauled a bucket full of water onto the bench taking a turnip and dunking it in. "pro'lly when the Queen took 'er in," the two woman laughed haughtily working away with the vegetables.

I knew from many years of working in the kitchens that they meant well but it always hurt when Guinevere was mentioned. Gwen and I used to work together in the palace. She'd do the laundry - which I hated - and I'd do the dishes - which she hated - the perfect compromise. But then she caught the eye of King Arthur and my perfect world was ripped away from me and now I must do both on top of my ladies maid duties and whatever king Arthur wanted of me.  

Never once had Guinevere lightened my load since she had become Queen. For a Queen could never love a servant.

I stood on the outskirts of the beautiful hall. The Pendragon colors flew along side blue and black, the colors of their neighbors Agraton. I looked upon the princess who sat poised in her seat and realized her cup was empty. I silently glided over, "More wine, my Lady?" I questioned softly. "Please," She held her cup for me as I steadily poured the wine. "My what manners you have dear, what do people call you?" her voice is soft and kind not harsh nor firm nor demanding.

"I am Y/N my Lady, handmaiden to Queen Guinevere." I watched as her eyebrow twitched almost unnoticeably and she clicked her tongue. "Well if you weren't in such a position I'd have half a mind to hire you myself," she smiled widely digging her fork into the chicken on her plate. "And it would be an honour to receive such an offer," I bowed deeply and scurried back to the outskirts of the grand building to observe the feast goers once again.

She had been neither rude nor demanding like Mildred had told me nor Alektorophobic like Astrid had told me, in fact she was perfectly nice and calm upon meeting.

An hour in and all the royals were verging on drunk as their private conversations became easier to hear. As I looked around the room my eyes focused themselves on a boy, he looked to be about twelve with long hair and green eyes. The boy held a jug much like my own but he soon rested it on a decorative table. I saw him reach into his pocket pulling out a small bottle containing something unnatural. He took off the cork with his teeth but then his eyes glanced around the room and I was forced to look away.

When I looked back he was pocketing the empty vial and picking up the jug to swirl it. Next the serving boy moved over to the King and Queen and poured it into their outstretched cups and it suddenly hit me. This boy could be trying to poison them. Guinevere's cup made contact with the table as the boy slipped into the crowd but I had to sprint to swat the cup from the Kings hand before it could touch his lips.

He made an annoyed grunt looking down at the mess on the floor before looking at me, "What do you think you are doing?!" His voice was loud in the near silent hall. I opened my mouth to defend myself but didn't have the time. "What gives you the right to knock my drink from my hand!" his fist collides with the table and I bow in terror trying to get my words out, "I am so sorry my King bu-" I was cut off once again. "I have a right mind to throw you in the dungeons for this- this insubordination!" He himself was cut off by a polite cough and attention was turned to the princess of Agraton.

"King Arthur, perhaps you should give miss Y/N a chance to plead her case before you throw her in the dungeons," I was so surprised by  the princesses intermission that I didn't even realize when all eyes had turned back to me. "Well?" The king said I turned to him immediately for fear of getting into more trouble.

"I saw a boy put something, a vial, into the jug before pouring it for you and the Queen sire. I was only trying to stop it in case it was poison." I bowed to him again, my hands trembling and clammy. The king picked up his Queen's cup smelling it. "It doesn't smell like poison, very well then, if you saw the boy put something in the wine than you shall drink it and if it is not poisoned you shall be thrown in the stocks for a week for unnecessary action against your king. If it is you shall receive treatment from our court physician."

Looking around the room I took the cup. I gazed inside and took in a deep breath, my eyes landed upon Guinevere's and I couldn't see any worry in them almost like she believed nothing of what I had said. She used to hang on every word. And as I took a sip, that was all that ran through my brain.

This could possibly be the end of my life and the one I love most couldn't seem to care less.

---

I don't remember blacking out or anything after that. The first thing I do remember however, is when the King came to see me. I was awake, and according to Gaius I had been awake before but now I was conscious and able to speak properly. "Thankfully you were relatively healthy and you were able to fight off most of the poison with the help of an antidote." he told me to stray away from heavy lifting and he had told me I was going to live, now that made me think.

Guinevere stood by and watched as I drank poison for her. She did nothing but bat an eyelash, even after all our years of friendship she still chose the King over me.

Before I could get too far my thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock, "Come in," I called. My quarters weren't that big but they were livable and possibly not mine for much longer. I stood up and the King entered, I bowed, "There's no need for that, you saved the lives of me and my Queen last night, I came here to thank you," And he bowed to me, albeit briefly.

"If there is anything I can get for you to make your healing more comfortable don't be afraid to ask." I sighed, I suppose it should be now rather than never. "Is the princess of Agraton still in Camelot sire?" I watched as a confused expression washed over his face, "Yes, she is." I nodded, mostly to myself, "Would you mind showing me to her quarters? I would like to thank her."

"Very well then." I walked slowly and painfully along as the King lead me to the guest wing and two flights of stairs later I stood before a grand door. "Thank you, that is all," I said the King nodded before walking away. I stood at the door and knocked and about a minute went by and the door was flung open by the princess herself.

"Oh, miss Y/N! You're alive thank goodness!" The princess place her hands on my shoulders in what I deemed excitement based on the expression on her face, "But... What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!" she actually seemed worried about me, a lowly servant. "I came to ask you, if perhaps, your offer was real? To work for you, that is." I straightened my posture to look more up for the task.

"Well, yes of course but, aren't you already working for the Queen?" I smiled sadly. "I have had my resignation letter written up for weeks, I've just not had a viable reason to hand it over." The princess nodded, I wasn't quite sure but it truly looked like she understood. "I know how you feel, I once fell for someone I couldn't have as well. It's alright once you hand in this letter I will make sure you live comfortably in Agraton." I soon bid goodbye for now to the kind princess and made my way back to the stairs.

They looked daunting in my pained state and I stood there contemplating giving up my dignity and just rolling down them when my saving grace assented the steps in the form of the Queen the very epicenter of my emotional cyclone.

"Y/N do you... Need help down the stairs?" Her tone was almost condescending and I wasn't quite sure if she meant it to be so. Either way it felt like an arrow to my already fragile heart. "Uh, Yes please, if it's not too inconvenient." the Queen scoffed, "No, not at all," her arm slipped under mine and for a moment, just a moment, I could imagine that we were strolling through a field together and then the moment was gone and we were at the bottom of the stairs.

"Your Majesty?" I asked, "You know you can call me Gwen when it's just the two of us... What is it?" she had countered my question. "I need to give you something," we walked the last of the way to my room once more and as we entered Guinevere recalled times I wish I could have forgotten. "Do you remember the day when, I had just started working for Morgana? I came to you for help because it was so much work and you said we should run away together. Then we paid a serving boy to do our chores the next day so we could plan?" she smiled to herself.

I looked away going over to the draw beside my bed as she rattled on about the carving she had made in my perfectly good table. I pulled out the letter and made a b-line for the Queen, "What is it that you needed to give me?" she asked as I held the letter before her.

"This is my letter of resignation. I was offered a job by the princess of Agraton at the feast last night and I have decided to take it." Guinevere took the letter. "We leave in two weeks because it is state law that any servant under the crown must give two weeks notice to their resignation." She looked between the letter and I for a while then decided to speak. "Very well."

This was the story of how I died, of how I left unrequited and forbidden love behind. I simply can not put into words, my desire to return. But, for her sake and mine I shall stay away for all of time.

Requests open as of 14/04/23

[pissfizz]

Thoughts on the new miraculous movie as someone who has never consumed any miraculous media before

Firstly, those songs were awful and really detracted from the plot. Like they were distracting and annoying and most were bad and the better ones were just alright, and they all kind of got in the way of the plot which is really annoying. But oh well.

Secondly, it has occurred to me that I have no idea what age range the target audience for this franchise is. It appears to be aimed a lot younger than I initially thought, which excuses some of the jokes and the incredibly on the nose messaging.

The jokes ranged from awful to painful but in a humorous way (some of those cat noir puns hurt but got a laugh out of me). Overall what you’d expect from kids media though so it’s not too bad. Very much disliked the fart jokes regardless though.

And to be honest. I can see why adrien has such a massive fan base I really started to like him over the course of the movie. He’s fun and sad and I like him. Marienette however. She was kind of annoying but idk if that’s because of the songs and the fact I didn’t really like her voice or because of her character. I’d have to watch the show to determine that one.

The plot itself was incredibly on the nose and the pacing was a little weird. I don’t have much issue with the plot though, since it is targeted to a young audience, but it also suffered a bit from the way kids movies nowadays tend to talk down to their audience and think they’re too stupid to understand something if it’s not said outright. That was a bit annoying, but otherwise it was solid I think. The pacing definitely could’ve used a bit of work, and I don’t know how I felt about the ending and Gabriel hawkmoth guy being defeated so easily.

The visuals however. Spectacular. Beautiful. Amazing. Every shot was so incredibly beautiful it was insane. Definitely carried the movie, it looked so good…

Ofc I must say a special shoutout to cat noirs bell because it made me laugh many times.

Now I must say something about other miraculous media: how the fuck does this fit in. I went in thinking it was a prequel but like. Is it not?? Is it like entirely separate and just speedran the entire fucking show or something?? I’m incredibly confused by that aspect I’m ngl. I have very many questions about that but I don’t know if I wanna put myself through the entire show lol. I was so stressed out by the love square in just this hour and a half long movie I can’t imagine sitting through like six seasons or however many there are. Y’all who did are the real ones you guys impress me that must take some incredible stamina.

Overall, I liked it. It was a fun movie and the visuals were so so stunning and I really liked adrien and thought his and marienettes relationship was actually pretty cute. Hated the fact that is was a musical like it’d be different if the songs were actually good but. They aren’t. I may be being a bit over critical for a kids movie but I know kids movies can be better it’s happened time and again so I have no qualms about it. But yeah the visuals carried, the songs and the pacing dragged it down immensely (unfortunately those two things go hand in hand). But yeah. A pretty alright movie and made me a bit more intrigued about the show. Idk if I’ll ever watch it but I’m certainly intrigued, that’s for sure.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

The truth always comes out, chapter 28

Cora put on her jeans and shirt again, the nap had done her good. She heard snoring coming from Robert´s changing room. She looked at her watch and sighed, he needed to wake up. Carson would announce dinner soon and they needed to tell the girls tonight. Must against her wish, she opened the door, Robert was facing her way. He was curled up under the covers, only the top of his head was poking out. She had to suppress the urge to step closer and brush to his hair. She always loved playing with his hair when it was getting longer. It started to curl up and it did that exactly right now.

"Robert" She tried, but the only affect it had, was that he stopped snoring. Cora chuckled, it was something that always worked at night, when she woke up from his snoring and he would not stop, she only had to say his name and he stopped just long enough for her to fall asleep again. She shook her head, no time for memories, she thought. Robert needed to wake up. "Robert." She said again a little bit louder this time. Still no reaction.

Cora stepped next to his bed and shook his shoulder. "You need to wake up." Robert got even deeper under the covers, and he let out a low rumble. A sound that always made Cora go weak; she loved the deep sound of his voice. She shook his shoulder again, it made him turn around, but not wake him up.

Another deep sigh left Cora's body. Why was she doing this, she should just let him sleep and sort everything out himself. But she was not that type of woman. So, she pulled down his covers and said again. "Robert, you need to wake up."

Robert let out an annoyed sound. "Why! Whatever is there to wake up too. My wife is leaving me. My children will hate me for it and leave me too. My youngest already does hate me, my oldest is starting to hate me. And well the other one…. I do not even know what she thinks of me. They do not really care about me anyway." Robert turned around, he suspected to see Bates, but to his horror he looked into the face of Cora.

"Oh my." He said. "Well, there was no lie in that."

Cora stepped backwards. "There is a lie, three very big lies, if you think that low of you children. Robert, you really disappoint me."

"Even more than I already did?" He said, swinging his legs over the bedside.

Cora shook her head. "If this is how you want to play it, then go ahead. I am going down for dinner. I hope you join, so we can tell the girls together, if you do not show up, I will tell them myself."

"And make me the bad guy in this whole debacle?" Robert could slap himself. Why was he picking a fight with Cora at this moment. He knew she wanted to end things in a civil way, but he was preventing her from doing that. Was he trying to ruin his live even more, then he already did? He looked up and saw the hurt in Cora's eyes. "I am sorry. I know you would not do that."

"Oh, so there is still some sense left in your woozy brain. Can you please get up, put on something decent and make your way downstairs." She turned around and walked back to her own room.

Robert let his head fall down. He was making things worse by the minute. He knew he should not drink this much but it was the only escape he had. He could not live with the idea that Cora was going to leave him. How was he going to survive without her next to him. He did not even know how she run this house.

A knock on the door and Bates entered with a big mug in his hands. "Her ladyship asked me to bring you this." He handed Robert the cup. "I know this is not my place, but can I say: "I told you so."

Robert looked up. Bates was getting his clothes ready he noticed. "You have every right to say that. Bates you know we are friends." He saw his look. "I know you work for me, but we are friends first, then employer and employee, you know that. I should have listened to you and told her ladyship about what happened."

"You should have thrown that letter out." Was Bates short answer. "What is going to happen now?"

"I do not know." Robert said in all honesty. He and Cora had not talked about the next steps yet. He took the clothes Bates handed him and dressed himself. "Is her Ladyship in her room?" He asked.

Bates looked surprised. "I think she is still indeed."

+++

"Thank you darling." Robert heard Cora say when he opened the dividing door between the two rooms. Two women looked up when he stepped inside. Sybil was standing behind her mother who was sitting in front of her vanity mirror. He saw Cora padding Sybil's hand which still rested on her shoulder. "I will see you downstairs." he heard her say.

Reluctantly Robert stepped closer. Coming into her room via this door was such a habit, but now it felt wrong. "Can we talk before we go downstairs?"

"What do you want?" Cora sounded hostile.

Robert took a deep breath. "I know I behaved badly just now." He stopped. "Not only just now." He continued. "But I think it is important that we talk before, we go tell the girls about the divorce."

Cora rested her hands in her lap. "You are right. We need to know what we want to say."

"Cora, if you want you can stay here at Downton." He heard Cora gasped. "I mean, the house is big enough, we could both live here without disturbing each other."

"Oh, Robert." Cora felt a pain in her heart. She could hear the desire in Robert's voice. "I am sorry, but I do not think that is possible. I will go and look for a house for myself."

"Right, I understand." Robert tried to hide his disappointment. "When you need help with that?"

"Rosamund already offered, she also offered I could stay at her place while I look for a house."

"That is good." He got up. "Well, let us go down and tell the girls.”

[bitch-spectrum]

I have a story about Unus Annus and how it literally saved my life.

TW: Suicidal Thoughts, Kidnapping, Underage Drinking

My 16th birthday was that October. My sweet 16 as all the tv shows and movies depicted. I was so excited. 16 was huge and I was FINALLY 16! I was hoping, praying, that my sweet 16 would be the birthday where my birthdays would finally be good! Up to this point I hadn't had a good one. They always ended in tears. I don't celebrate my birthday anymore and my 16th was the last straw.

I hadn't heard a word from my now fiancé all day. No good morning. No good night the previous night. Just radio silence after he said he was going to a movie with his family. I was sad. Did I do something wrong? It was my 16th birthday! Why was he ignoring me?

My mother comes into my bedroom, takes me into the back yard, pours me a glass of wine and breaks the news to me.

He had been kidnapped the previous night.

I drank myself to sleep that night. I drank the entire bottle and didnt wake up until nearly 5pm the next day. And went back to sleep a few hours later.

The rest of my fall break was spent with me not leaving my bed. Just sleeping, staring at the walls, trying not to kill myself.

I dreamt of him every night. Some nights I dreamt of reuniting, some nights I could only dream of the torture he must have been enduring. I knew who had done it PERSONALLY. I knew exactly where he was but the police did NOTHING! The police were called. CPS was called. But nothing was done. The people I KNEW were abusing and torturing my fiance were walking free and they STILL ARE because THE JUSTICE SYSTEM DOES NOT CARE!

And it felt like no one else cared either. Nobody knew how to comfort me. "Call CPS." I did. "Call the police." I did. "Get in touch with the FBI." I tried. "Well maybe just let him go."

How could I do that? We started dating at age TWELVE! Middle school sweet hearts. How could I let that go? Someone who loved me at my cringest. Someone who loved me at my worst. Someone I loved in all the same respects. Let that go? Genuinely how could I? No one could ever understand the kind of bond; the kind of strength it takes to still love the same person 10 years later.

When school started it was all a blur. My grades slipped, I was failing classes. It was a nightmare. My teachers could tell something happened, but no one ever bothered to ask me what was REALLY wrong.

By November I'd wake up, dissociate in school, come home and go to bed at 4pm. I wasnt eating. I wasnt showering. I wasnt okay. I was heavily self medicating.

One day I couldnt fall asleep after school and decided to watch youtube for a few hours. Markiplier of course. At the time he was promoting the channel Unus Annus in every video. I found it so annoying.

"Stop talking about the stupid channel. Its so pointless if its all just going to be gone in a year. Who fucking cares! Just shut up!"

I was angry, sad, scared, hurt. Obviously I never left hate comments because I'm a well adjusted member of society. I just skipped over it.

Well, one day I decided to say fuck it and just go watch some of the videos. "What's even so great about it anyway!?"

There weren't many videos uploaded on the channel yet. An amount I could binge in a few hours.

And something weird happened. For the first time in a while, when the only thing I could really emote was sobbing violently, I started smiling. One of the videos even got me to laugh. Not chuckle, or blowing out of my nose. But laughing, with my voice.

It felt so good. I hadnt smiled in a little over a month. I didnt have the energy to. I didnt even have the energy to cry sometimes. id just pass out. But there I was, lying in my bed and laughing.

I subscribed and even turned on pop up notifications.

And the videos came daily. Every day after school I'd come home and have something to do. Itd keep me awake through dinner so id at least eat once a day. Unus Annus made me smile at the very least. Everything could go wrong in a day but then UA would be there to be something right. To be the highlight of my day if nothing else.

UA wasnt a friend or a therapist. It didnt try to fix my problems or offer me solution. But it did give me energy. It did give me a drive. I wasnt thinking about the end. I didnt care about the end. I couldnt give enough energy to think about the end. I just focused, day by day. Thats all i could do. On days I woke up thinking about if I should kill myself, memento mori, it's not my time yet. I still have time.

The theme of UA was that it was only going to last a year. Just one year. It was something they would say a lot. One year. One year. One year and I didnt even think about it.

But something about that always stuck out to me. One year. It came to me in dreams. English and Latin. One Year. Unus Annus. The repetition of the phrase in my life just really spoke to me on a level I couldnt understand. Why did I take so much comfort in the phrase? I never understood that.

Well, one day during the earlier parts of the school year during Covid, I finished my work for the day. I waited for the next episode to come out. I watched it and I felt the urge to check my email. I never check my email. Literally.

Sitting in my inbox, there was an email from him. From my lover. It was short, just an update. An update I knew was written with a (metaphoric) gun to his head. But an update, nonetheless. I emailed back. No response. A week or so later it became a habit to email. We emailed so frequently we decided to just talk on a google doc.

They couldnt have hangouts or a phone or anything like that. But he had gmail. So, google docs worked for us just fine.

Come October he was mostly out of the situation. He had a phone and was in contact with the outside world again and was no longer being held hostage. We would text daily but still no social medias yet, and rightfully so.

It had been a year, and it was coming to an end. Just one year. Just one year like I had been promised.

And when it came time for UA to end, my bf and I had regular stable contact and he was about ready to remake his discord and FB accounts.

Unus Annus kept me alive, kept me going, during one of the hardest years of my life. I felt like the entire time they were holding my hands, promising me it'd only be one year. One year was all I had to get through and I was strong enough to get through it. Don't think about it now because there's nothing you can do. Look at this instead. Think about this. No no no! You're getting distracted and suicidal again! BOOM PEE SAUNA!! Gotcha! See you're okay.

I was so close to ending it when I had no idea if my bf had been killed or sold off to another state or what. If he was gone for good I didn't feel like my life was worth living anymore.

But I was promised one year, and one year was all I had to endure. I even had the time to re-adjust to the situation, of being back in contact with him before the channel was deleted. Like they were making sure I was on my feet before letting go.

Obviously, they don't know me. I know this. But it felt like a crutch to me. A crutch I desperately needed. A crutch I would have died without. They made a bigger promise than they know and they still kept it.

Mark and Ethan mean a lot to me, I'd tell them if I ever got to meet them that they did in fact save my life. That Unus Annus was something I clung to when I wasn't sure if I was going to live to see tomorrow.

One year was all I had. One year was all I needed.

IK Some people are going to call this story fake or that I'm exaggerating parts but I'm not. This is what the real world is truly like, and it's fucked up. I know what happened and whether or not a stranger on the internet believes me is irrelevant.

Thank you Unus Annus. Thank you for everything.

I miss unus annus. Rb if you agree (and feel welcome to put your favorite unus annus video/memory/etc)

I’ll go first: watching The Truth of Unus Annus for the first time and realizing “ohhhhh this is what it’s all been building up to. This is the video I expected from the first video. This is. This is it. This is the end. This is going to be what I miss when it’s over”

[dannobfg]

I see the red flags from miles away, yet, I am committed to a plan that I must see through. Is that a ridiculous thought? I have a trip booked and paid for at a time when money doesn't grow on trees.

Do I trust the words I read in his texts or do I trust my judgement and anxiety?

A bisexual man, looking to explore. Yet, says he wants a boyfriend. He recently ended a 1 year and 6 month relationship with a girl and has been single for just over one month. He lives alone in a town he hates and works at a job which pays well but has a shit schedule and doesn't bring him happiness.

I confronted him today because I was almost sure he was watching porn in the background when we were sexting. Not such a big deal but I needed to know so I asked him. And he was. And he's given a valid explanation and tried to reassure me saying that I am "more than enough for him". But I find myself saddened still, as if he had cheated on me before we're even a real thing. I understand his reasons, but I am still hurt the same. Yet I don't seem to be allowed to feel hurt. And that's the thing with situationships, the boundaries are not clear. I almost wish he'd lied to me and said no. At least he was honest about it.

My first kinda boyfriend ever was also bisexual and I struggled so much to feel like I was enough for him. I will never be a woman and I have no desire to be. I understand that he feels attraction in both directions and currently at almost equal amounts. I don't know how I can ever make him fully happy. So maybe this really isn't the place for me.

I've been trying so long to make something work with someone. I'm told that that's part of my problem. I chase instead of attracting. Apparently what belongs to me will find me when the time is right. But I struggle to believe that. I believe everything in this life takes effort. We have to fight for what's ours or it will be taken away or walk away. I'm told I feel this way because I am weak, because my self-esteem is not higher, because I don't know how to be content being alone. And don't get me wrong, I'm trying to better myself. But there is one phrase that I once heard that I still believe: true love will find you in your mess and not at your best. If someone can stick around when it's all going to shit, then they truly want to love you. No one is perfect or at their best 100% of the time. Life is messy. If you want to love me you have to be willing to love the mess too.

So, am I willing to love him in his mess? The thing is I can see myself getting hurt just as much as I can see myself living a happy relationship. I am scared of getting hurt. But at the same time I am tired of seeking. And I don't believe it can be found. Things don't just happen. You make them happen. Even if sometimes they're easier than others.

Idk what I'm doing. I feel like I'm YOLO-ing life right now. But at the same time, I feel like I'm gonna hit the wall with such force that it may just finish me off. What a place to be, ey?...

He is sensitive and caring. He cries while listening to music sometimes. He sings a lovely song. We share many interests and can talk for hours on end without getting tired or feeling annoying or getting bored. We had a conversation once about the perfect day being single and the perfect day when in a relationship. Our ideas match very well. We talk about plans in the distant future. He seems to project us together long term. I feel hopeful yet terrified constantly. Because I've been here all too many times just for it to end just as unexpectedly as it started. I think I'm gonna roll with it a while longer and see where it ends up. At the very least it will be a story to tell someone someday. Wish me luck...