#it’s just gross like. what. can we mature and grow up

[serikatz]

hey uhhh… !!! never thought id have to be making this but if you support the columbine shxxters…adam lanza, or any other person like that, and make posts praising them DONT FOLLOW ME. Please don’t. You’re weird and that’s gross

[house-of-lovin]

safety net

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | love language (2)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loved playing games with you. (inspired by safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla sign)

Warnings/Tags: toxic!tara, clueless!tara, mature language, implied sexual themes, mentions of violence and trauma.

Note: as promised THE LAST PART (woohoo😮‍💨) this was seriously a lot of fun and became a bit of a writing exercise using songs as prompts and trying to piece them together into a storyline. Thanks for all the comments, reblogs and feedback. They are so appreciated! Let me know what you guys think! <3

Word Count: 3.4k+

“You’re staring, again.”

Tara snaps her gaze back to the book on the table, ignoring her friends’ smug smiles. “Why don’t you just go up to her and apologize?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, trust me, I’ve tried.” Tara rolls her eyes. 

It’s been two weeks since that night at the party and you have been ignoring Tara. You spent the rest of spring break working at your uncle’s shop, avoiding the friend group, sans Mindy because you couldn’t exactly avoid someone you lived with. Tara attempted to give you space the following days and then reached out to you in hopes that you could talk and sort out the situation. Tara doesn’t want to lose you as a friend. 

“I’m not gonna apologize for something that wasn’t my fault, Mindy. Just because she caught feelings doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. But now she’s ignoring me?” Tara scoffs, “Well, some friend she is.” 

“God Chad’s right. You two are clueless.” Mindy’s nose wrinkled.

“She knows where to find me when she’s done being stubborn.” Crossing her arms, she glances back at you. You were sitting across the quad, on a bench surrounded by your other friends; laughing and talking, unfazed by Tara’s brazen staring. 

How were you not seeing her shameless looks?

She swallowed the pitiful lump in her throat as she continues to observe your carefree nature. 

“Weren’t you begging me to tell her to call you back like a week ago?” Mindy objected causing Anika and Quinn to snicker as they listen in, not bothering to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping.

“Begging is a stretch,” She mutters weakly, picking at the corner of her book.

“Tara, why can’t you just admit that you want to be with her?” Quinn ponders, genuinely confused as to why you two are playing hopscotch around one another. Everyone could see how madly in love you two are.

It genuinely puzzled the friend group as to why it’s taking this long to get you guys to stop playing games.

They just wanted to see their friends together and happy, definitely not because of the growing bet pool. And not because it was getting increasingly expensive to wager in the bet the longer it ran because you two refused to acknowledge the clear feelings you have for each other. (It was starting to burn a sizeable hole in their wallets)

The brunette shakes her head defiantly, “We’re just hooking up.”

“You’re not acting like you guys are just hooking up.” Anika counters, “actually, you guys act more like a couple than me and Mindy sometimes.”

“No. We don’t,” She frowns.

“Yes you do and it’s gross,” The aforementioned girl interjects. “No one should be cuter than me and my girl.” She wraps an arm around Anika, leaning in to lovingly peck the girl’s cheek. 

“Y/N’s always bringing you coffee when you study with us at the library, even though her class is on the other side of campus.” Anika comments.

“She always loses on purpose when we play card games just so you can win,” Quinn adds.

“She laughs at all your lame jokes and obscure movie references – there’s no way you enjoy Suspiria as much as you say you do,” Mindy stated.

“Hey!” 

“Dude, she has a Spotify playlist titled with your name and heart beside it.” Mindy throws her hands up, feeling a bit fed up.

“Doesn’t mean anything, we share music all the time!”

“Tara, Y/N literally takes care of your plants when you complain about forgetting,” Quinn objects.

Tara’s still feeling persistent. “That’s not true.” 

Her dying plants have been on the mend these last few weeks and it’s definitely because she’s been paying more attention to them; placing the potted plants in a better area for sunlight and watering them more.

Quinn shoots her roommate a pointed look, “You were over-watering them, Tara. Y/N had to come over and change the soil. Did you even notice?”

No, Tara didn’t even notice. She was shocked at how much went over her head as her friends continue to list all the little things you do that, apparently, she’s been too blind to see. She glances back at you as you’re talking to a girl; smiling, unbothered. She recognizes her from her creative writing class – Tara didn’t know you two were close. Close enough for the girl to wrap a hand around your arm and lean into your ear something that the Carpenter can’t make out from the vast distance.

Tara’s eyes slither into tight fissures as she watches the random girl continue to make herself comfortable on you. Eventually, whatever she felt she had to whisper so close was over, but not before the girl planted a kiss on your cheek unsuspectingly. The Carpenter watches as you slightly jump from the contact, then eventually grant her a shy smile – the same smile you reserved for her. 

Tara feels an unpleasant drop in her chest because, for the first time since moving to New York, she allowed herself to finally feel everything she’s been burying.

It was suffocating, making her want to claw at her throat to get rid of the nasty sensation. Regardless of how much she swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the feeling, it only grew larger as it ached; begging to be acknowledged. Hastily, Tara stands up, gathering her things.

“Where are you going?” Her friends' questions were left unacknowledged as she footed it, not really sure where she was going; all Tara knows is that she had to get away before her friends see her break down. 

In her haste, Tara misses your concerned eyes tracking her disappearing figure.

●●●

Tara is choosing to ignore the world and her problems.

After that conversation with her friends, she ran home, plopped into her bed and hid under the covers for the remainder of the afternoon. She put on her favourite horror movies, hoping it would distract her from her thoughts of you. But her efforts proved to be fruitless. You tormented her thoughts regardless of how desperately she tried to drown them out. 

So, she sat there until bright blue skies turned navy and drove herself mad thinking about you.

Trust came sparsely for someone who was violently attacked by a deranged murderer. As much as Tara tried to push through the past and live as if nothing happened, it plagued her in her daily life. It revealed itself when a phone rang too loudly, near kitchen knives, or in dark areas – there were just certain experiences that were tainted by the memory of Ghostface. 

But then you showed up. She remembers opening the door to her apartment and there you were, standing behind Mindy with a $15 bottle of champagne and a poorly-wrapped throw blanket for the old couch to celebrate the Carpenter’s housewarming party (an attempt at some normalcy) with a shy smile and Tara was hooked. 

No matter how much she tried to distance herself, echoing sentiments that it’s a bad idea to get involved with someone so soon.

You lured her in, anyway.

It was in your tenderness that you had Tara wrapped around your finger.

Normally, the Carpenter would be annoyed with someone treating her like she was made of glass, but when it came to you; she knew it wasn’t out of pity. Your gentleness was welcomed with open arms because for once in her life, Tara finally felt like she didn’t have to be so brave all the time, at least, not when she was around you. 

She didn’t have to pretend her life was as put-together as she made it out to be. 

Because for once, someone had finally made her feel like she is worthy enough to stay for, to care for, and maybe to love. And that was terrifying because all anyone in her life had ever done is let her down and leave – Sam, her mom, her dad, Amber. So she kept you on a tight leash; taking control and leading. Never letting you close enough to see how she really feels about you. But there are cracks in the unsturdy walls she tries to put up, she’s not perfect. How can she resist you when you still willingly chased after her regardless of what she’s put you through – and how even through her harshness, you never lose your gentleness with her.

You create real balance and peace within her (not the fake one, she’s desperately fronting) and to someone who’s only known chaos and instability – that’s terrifying. So sue her, for being a little scared.

So, yes. 

Right now, Tara is ignoring everything around her because that realization is too big a burden to deal with.

She has her legs pulled up to her chest, the fuzzy blanket you gifted months ago, wrapped around her shoulders as she watches the TV from the couch; not really paying attention to the film. Her eyes begin to burn the longer she stares at the blue-lit screen causing a painful sting to her pupils. 

A terse knock on the front door startles her making her blink at the sound. 

Everyone was out for the night; Sam at therapy, Quinn at a hookup’s house and her other friends, all off doing their own thing. She wasn’t sure who could be at the door at this time. Cautiously, she stands to silently walk to the door – the pads of her naked feet connecting to the wooden floor litter goosebumps on her skin. Standing on the tips of her toes, Tara looks through the peephole.

She sees you shifting on your feet, glancing over your shoulder – looking unsure if you should even be there. 

Tara feels a pit forming in her stomach, but moves swiftly to unlock the door, opening it. 

“Hey.” She says softly, palm wrapped tight on the doorknob in an attempt to ground herself.

“Hi.” You rub a hand on the back of your neck.

“What–what are you doing here?” Tara sees you flinch, mistaking her tone for malice but you’re answering before she can correct herself.

“Mindy said you needed my help.” You drawl as if confused. 

Tara shares your confusion, brows drawing together. “I… don’t need help?”

You shake your head, clenching your jaw tight, “God dammit… I think she set us up.” 

“Oh.”

Rolling your eyes, “Yeah, oh. Look, that’s my bad, I’ll deal with her. You can go back to… doing whatever you were doing.” 

Tara sees you eye her attire glumly; an oversized shirt that covered her bare legs; assuming the worst. Her eyes immediately widened like saucers, grabbing your arm before you could leave. 

“No! That–that’s not–I’m home. Alone.” She clarifies. The word ‘alone’ taking a special raised and rushed tone. 

You scoff, pulling away from her, “good for you.”

“Can we talk?” Tara calls out, she can’t let you leave yet – despite her previous decision to ignore you and ignore her feelings. The longer you stood across from her, the more she realized just how much she’s missed you these last few weeks.

“No.” You continue to walk down the hall.

Tara grows desperate, running after you and grabbing your arm again to stop you from leaving. The concrete floors were rough on the soles of her feet. “Y/N, please.”

You turn, ready to yank your arm away from her grip but her watery eyes halt you; sympathy bubbling lowly in your chest and you curse inwardly at how easy it was for her to lure you back in. 

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? Some people are trying to get some sleep!” A voice interrupted, it was her neighbour, peeking his head a couple of doors down to yell at you two. He pops his whole body out when he sees Tara’s revealing figure, shooting her a lewd smile through his cigarette-tainted teeth,  “Oh hey, there.”

Tara feels you turn in her hold as your face drops – jaw clenching as you glare at her sleazy neighbour (who was at least in his late 40s judging by his greying hair) “Go back inside unless you wanna get fucked up and stop looking at her.” 

He stares back for a few seconds, debating if the challenge was worth his time. You move her behind you with a tug of an arm; blocking his view of her. Tara knows it's the wrong time but she couldn’t help but move closer; inhaling your familiar perfume. “Man, you’re not even worth my time.”

You wait until he shuts the door before facing her again, muttering under your breath. “Creepy motherfucker.” 

“Go back inside before anyone else comes out here begging for a show.” You tell her, lightly pushing her back to her door. But her hold on your arm tightens, “Not until you come inside and talk to me.”

You sigh, looking around the hallway in an attempt to buy yourself some time before you eventually gave in – tugging her inside the apartment.

Only once you were both inside did you pull away from her grip; Tara’s arm falling limply by her side. You look at her expectantly, “Well?”

Tara remains unmoving and silent, She curls into herself, leaning against the back of the couch just staring at you

You grow annoyed at her silence, running a hand on your face, “Tara you begged me to talk…” 

Still nothing from the Carpenter; she isn’t sure why she can’t say anything now that you’re standing in front of her. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to confront you and her feelings but as you stood there, about to leave, she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t sure when she would see you again, this was the closest you’d been around her in the last few weeks. 

At this point, she was acting on pure impulse and heightened emotions.

“Unbelievable…” You mutter, grabbing the doorknob. She can feel practically feel the sharp snap in your patience as you try to leave, again.

“I don’t get you.” 

That stops you in your tracks, making you turn looking confused. 

“What?”

Tara begins to shake her head.

“I mean, I don’t get you… Like, why are you still here? Jesus, Y/N, you’ve been ignoring me but you still came here cause you thought I needed help. Even after all the petty shit I’ve been doing with those guys to fuck with you and after the party” She grabs at her hair; roughly tugging on it. “And even after all that, you still chase after me. Why!”

“Because I love you.” 

Tara inhales a sharp breath at your admission and how carelessly easily you said those words. Your brows furrowed like you looked genuinely confused by her question, it has Tara scoffing in disbelief. Unsure how you can still give her genuineness even after everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No, you don’t, you can’t. We’re just hooking up, it was just sex.” She denies, but a fog of tears is beginning to cloud her eyes. Even through the haze, she can see you approaching closer, holding a cautious hand out. 

“Maybe I am just a hook-up to you… but I didn’t just catch feelings for you. I’m not just falling in love with you, I already fell Tara. More like, I dove head-first without a life jacket,” You take the moment to chuckle dryly.

“And yeah, that wasn’t part of the plan but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself I didn’t tell you that there’s someone that wants to wake up and fall asleep beside you every day. Someone that wants to show you that maybe this time you don’t have to be so afraid to let someone in.” You shake your head, looking down for a brief moment of insecurity but you regain the passion in your eyes as you connect gazes.

“So, look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just a hookup, and if you do. I’ll leave you alone – for good.” She desperately blinked away the tears as she attempts to meet your eyes to tell you that you are just a hookup, it is just sex, she doesn’t love you too. But when she meets your eyes, she sees tenderness again and suddenly her knees are buckling under her.

Her body doesn’t meet the ground like she expects it to. Instead, you grabbed her, wrapping a firm arm around her waist as you held her weight up. She can hear distant mutterings of comfort being whispered in her ear but nothing registers as she realizes that she’s starting to sob uncontrollably. 

“Baby…need you to breathe… ‘gonna make yourself sick.” 

She couldn't hear anything around her until her face is being pressed into soft fabric; clawing at it, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. She’s having a panic attack. 

“Tara… Please, baby, you have to breathe–” You beg but Tara can’t hear you properly.

Nothing works until she feels you wrap her in a firm hug, still leaving her enough space so as to not feel suffocated. One arm around her waist, the other hand wrapped around her neck, as you rub soothing lines on her clammy skin. 

A few moments of silence pass until Tara feel the pressure in her chest ease as the ringing in her ears subsides. She gasps for air against your chest, coughing as a burning ache in her throat develops. The rubbing of lines on her neck turns into firm pats on the back as Tara continues to cough through her tears.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You shush her. Eventually, her coughs turn into occasional sniffles and deep breaths as you run fingers back up her hair comfortingly; giving her all patience she required.

“I’m sorry,” Tara says once she pulls her head off your chest, keeping a tight grip on your clothes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Your eyes softened as you ran the pads of your thumbs to wipe away at her tear-stained cheeks.

She shakes her head in your grip, “Yes, I do. Even now, you’re still treating me so well. I don’t deserve it.” Her voice turns into a broken whisper as she finally allows herself to be vulnerable.

“Oh Tara,” You said so tenderly, “You deserve the world, baby. You’re amazing.”

“No, I’m not,” She shakes her head, beginning to pull away from you, not wanting to hear your words and how genuinely you believed it. 

You tightened your grip around her waist, preventing her from moving. “Yes, you are, if only you can see yourself the way I see you. Oh, Tara, you don’t even realize it. You amaze me, you make me want to be a better person, that’s what you do to me, that’s what you make me feel. Not the other stuff you’re saying.”

Shaking your head, passion raging in your eyes; eye contact with the smaller girl unwavering, “The way you care for everyone around you, and how you carry yourself despite everything you’ve gone through… Baby, it’s amazing to watch you be yourself. I know, I know… After Amber, it’s hard–” That makes Tara’s eyes widen, unaware you knew about her and her late friend. 

“–to trust people but, if you just gave me a chance and spared me an ounce of trust to let yourself fall… I promise I’ll be under there waiting with a safety net.” 

Tara examines your eyes, there was no ounce of dishonesty in them. But that’s to be expected, you’ve always been genuine with her, always up-front, and calling her out on her shit – with love. It was one of the things that made her fall for you. Where everyone around her treats her like she’s a porcelain doll, letting her get away with whatever she wanted – you stopped her, but always in a way that was more so loving and protective rather than overbearing and smothering.

The thudding in her chest begs for reprieve as her heart craves to be moulded with yours. Her heart wants to know what it was like to beat in tandem with you, to finally allow herself to be caught instead of trying (and failing) to hold herself up all the time. 

As Tara’s body caves in on herself, she pulls you down by the neck, unable to hide the content sigh that leaves her lips when your mouths meet in the middle. The kiss was sweet, passionate and firm; it poured out all love that words could never capture; where the tool of language proved to be invaluable in expressing her feelings. 

“I trust you…” Tara whispers when she pulls away, unable to school the smile breaking across her lips. You giggle, making her smile wider. For once the heaviness in Tara's chest feels bearable with you in her arms. 

No other words were exchanged as you two attempted to meet again for a kiss only to bump noses and miss because you two were beaming so wide.

●●●

happy reading!

:)

[coraniaid]

reverse unpopular opinion meme: xander?

[Reverse unpopular opinion meme]

I like to consider my opinion of Xander Harris as being particularly complicated and nuanced, but – engaging in some critical self-reflection for just a moment – I think the objective truth is probably more that I’m just instinctively and aggressively contrarian about it.  I find that I tend to strongly disagree with most of the online takes about Xander I see, almost regardless of whether they’re pro or anti.  

I mean, on the one hand I do think it’s more than a bit silly to pretend, as many people seem to do, that Xander Harris is [somehow?] uniquely and only a Joss Whedon self insert [despite being written by multiple people] in a way that none of the other characters [that Whedon also created and that appear in the show Whedon created] apparently are. Or to ignore the fact that very often the audience is clearly meant to think that Xander is in the wrong and disapprove of his actions.  (You obviously aren’t supposed to be cheering for him when he lies to Buffy about Willow’s message about Angel in Becoming, for an easy example; or to be clapping and applauding him when he cheats on Cordelia or leaves Anya at the altar either.) And I think it would be wrong to dismiss the fact that Xander starts the show as a dumb but (mostly) harmless teenager and that, not only does he gradually mature and improve as a person as he grows up, he also [perhaps uniquely for this show?] manages to do so without killing even one person.    

But equally I would be lying if I didn’t admit that many of my least favorite episodes of the show are either Xander-centric episodes (Teacher’s Pet, The Pack, Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered for example) or episodes in which Xander plays a non-trivial role in exactly the parts of the episodes I most dislike (his treatment of Buffy in Dead Man’s Party, say, or his speech in support of Riley in Into The Woods).  The haters are right to say that Xander does often treat his female friends and partners abysmally, often in ways that the show doesn’t seem to acknowledge or which it briefly acknowledges only to brush them off with no consequences.  There certainly are times when the writers expect the audience to cheer for Xander a lot more than I personally want to, or when he says something gross and sexist which is just meant to be funny and that the writers simply didn’t think critically about at all.  And the flipside of Xander being written by a range of different writers is that his character growth is often slow, halting or inconsistent (which, while arguably realistic, is not particularly fun to experience).  And unlike some of the fandom I don’t really believe anything Xander does can be handwaved away by him being deeply affected by what happened to his “best friend” Jesse in Season 1’s The Harvest: in fact I would put money on a majority of the show’s writers having no idea who Jesse was.

Anyway, none of that preamble is really in the spirit of the ask game, is it?

Um.  Five things I like about Xander, then.  No hedging or clarification except for what I heavily imply above (oh, and also the comics aren’t canon and don’t mean anything and actually don’t even exist … I mean, uh, what comics are we even talking about?).

I think the show resolves the initial Season 1 “love triangle” (in which Xander is really into Buffy and she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings or even seem to notice them, while similarly Willow is really into Xander and he doesn’t reciprocate her feelings or even seem to notice them) in about the best way it possibly could have done.  Buffy and Xander don’t ever get together and there’s never really any suggestion that they might – one or two odd moments in Season 2 aside, I guess? – and Willow musters the self-respect required to firmly reject Xander when he tries to ask her to the dance that Buffy had just turned him down for in Prophecy Girl.  Not only that, but Willow goes on to have a serious relationship with a guy who isn’t Xander and then comes out as a lesbian and continues to have serious relationships with woman who aren’t Xander, right up to the end of the final season.  And this happens all while the three of them stay very close friends; in fact Buffy and Xander at least are clearly better friends in the second half of the season than they were at the beginning of the show [when, after all, Xander had only just met her].  Whether or not that was planned from the beginning – and to be honest, I think the Buffy fandom as a whole wildly overestimates how much of the show was planned from the beginning – I think that’s a pretty unambiguously great way for that particular subplot to have be handled.   (Although the funniest and most geometrically pleasing resolution of the Season 1 love triangle would, of course, have been for Buffy and Willow to end up together.)

Speaking of Buffy and Willow, for all his faults Xander is consistently written as somebody who cares about his friends and wants them to be safe and happy.  As well as the obvious big moments – helping to save Buffy’s life in Prophecy Girl; his speech assuring Buffy that she’s his hero in The Freshman; repeatedly assuring Willow in Grave that he’ll always love her, even if she ends up killing him or destroying the world; that moment in Season 7 where Buffy sends him away to look after Dawn because she “needs somebody [she] can count on” – I think it’s fun when we get to see the three of them just hang out, in those quiet little moments they get to just all be kids together.  I am very firmly in the camp that thinks Buffy should have friends and be allowed to not be treated for an idiot for liking said friends or wanting to spend time with them.  Whatever else you can say about it, I think it’s obvious that this is how the show’s writers expect you to engage with the show.   That’s part of why I’m more forgiving than some people of episodes like I Robot, You Jane or Bad Eggs or Amends: these are all episodes in which I can believe that Xander is fundamentally a good kid who Buffy would want to be friends with, and that he’d grow up to be somebody she’d still want to be friends with as an adult.    

Some people online – mostly not on Tumblr – talk a lot of rot about Xander getting self-defense training or somehow reconnecting with the military persona he had in Halloween or otherwise Learning How To Fight, and I can’t overstate how glad I am that the show didn’t go in this direction.  Xander makes sense as a character precisely because he isn’t a fighter.  Because he doesn’t occupy that more stereotypically masculine role: because he is the one who gets rescued and brings in baked goods and that the other, more powerful but emotionally repressed characters can go to to talk about their feelings.  Because he is the person who, by the end of the show, can best reassure Dawn that she doesn’t need to be a Potential Slayer or have superpowers to be special.  This idea that Xander complains too much during the show about not having special powers and that the “solution” to “fix” this is to have him go out and get some (as opposed to this being a deliberate character arc in which Xander learns to accept that he’s never going to be that sort of person) is not one I have a lot of sympathy for.  The show already has a human male character who is trained as a fighter so he can go on patrol with Buffy: he’s called Riley Finn and he’s insufferable. 

Although the fandom as a whole loves to massively oversell how “abusive” the Scoobies respective parents are, I do think that Xander’s home life is a key part of understanding who Xander specifically is as a person.  And – again, however deliberately planned from the beginning or not it was – there’s something nicely disturbing about how we never get a big dramatic reveal about how awful Xander’s parents are: it’s just something that the writers just slowly build up to – from the idea in Season 1 that Xander doesn’t regularly eat cooked meals at home (“do your parents even own a stove?”), to Xander joking about his dad trying to “send [him] to some Armenians once” early in Season 2, or calling home to say he’s going to be out all night and having his mother clearly not recognize his voice, through to Cordelia revealing in Season 3 that he admitted to her that sleeps outside during Christmas to avoid his parents drunken fights  – until by Restless we can see Xander having nightmares about being trapped in his parents basement and having his father come down the stairs and we don’t need to have anything more than that explained to us.  I think that’s all really effectively done, and while I don’t think it excuses te way Xander behaves I do think it does a lot to make sense of it.

Again, while I think it’s possible to drastically overstate the Mind/Spirit/Heart metaphorical reading – I don’t think this is something the writers were consciously thinking about most of the time and I don’t think the reading of the show in which everyone is reduced to a part of Buffy’s own psyche is even particularly interesting except perhaps as an intellectual exercise – I do think it’s a reading that works pretty well for Xander. (Actually of the three elements, that’s surely the one that’s easiest to see: I’ve never been completely sure why Willow is the Spirit rather than the Mind.)  Yeah, Xander can often be petty and jealous and selfish and hypocritical and refuse to analyze his own feelings: that doesn’t rule him out from being Buffy’s metaphorical heart, it’s evidence that he is.  Buffy can be all of those things too!  (I think I am rather more fond of Buffy herself than you are – she is my favorite character on the show, after all – but I don’t like Buffy because she’s flawless and perfect; I like her because she’s interesting and realistically flawed, and very often flawed in the same ways as her friends.)

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - June-December 2023.

Can you believe we are almost at the end of 2023? These last six months have been quite busy for me so sadly haven't been able to read as much fic as I would have liked. But I am still here and will continue to create rec lists whenever I get the chance to read more fics. I am also rounding the word counts so please click on the links for the exact word count. :)

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) (1/1 | 4K | General)

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious. And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork (1/1 | 17K | Explicit)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly. The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection. “So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’ In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Undertow by entanglednow (1/1 | 4K | Mature)

"I don't want you to die because my swirls weren't swirly enough."

Fire and Water by GreyHaven (1/1 | 2K | General)

Derek is full of unspoken words and unexpressed emotions that sear him from the inside out until finally, finally, he allows them to escape into dark ash stains that smear across the harsh white of his notebook. Or, the one in which Derek is compelled to write a story. Turns out, he's writing about Stiles. What will happen when Stiles reads it? Angst and healing and two people finding safety in each other.

eli's parents are so gross (read: in love) by ash_mcj (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

"I would’ve been here earlier, but nobody thought it would be smart to call the one person who’s intimately dealt with the Nogitsune before, so,” Stiles said bitterly as he threw his hands up. "Now I have a list of asses I gotta kick over this very avoidable fiasco. Scott’s first, since he’s the Alpha—I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. His responsibility, or whatever.” The familiar sound of Derek’s car pulling into the driveway caught Eli's attention, and he grinned. “Is Dad on your list?” “Hell yeah, Dad is on my list! Right under Scott.” “Well, he just got home, so—” Stiles didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence before stomping off in the direction of the living room—and Eli quickly scrambled to follow him, ready to eavesdrop on what was likely going to be a rather impressive and amusing lecture. [or: eli is glad that stiles is home, since derek has nearly died several times in his absence, but he really wishes they were a little less glad to see each other] -- prompt | a reunion kiss

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller (1/1 | 2K | Teen)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside. "I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll (1/1 | 9K | Explicit)

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles (1/1 | 10K | Mature)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth. The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles. Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles. Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal. He’s still not convinced any of this is real. Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it. Edited in October 2022

Stiles is My Safe Place by Star_crossed02 (5/5 | 10K | Mature)

Stiles gets bitten by Kali, and after a brief adjustment period, proceeds to co-lead the Hale Pack to defeat the Alpha Pack once and for all. OR What happens when a sassy spark-werefox starts courting an alpha sourwolf?

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

princecharmingwinks special mention (My plane flying companion - I read a new chapter every time I took a new flight)

First Son, Last Chance by orphan_account (12/12 | 60K | Mature)

When First Son Stiles Stilinski, beloved public figure and the bane of his private security team, goes missing without a trace, ex-security officer Derek Hale finds himself tangled up in the world of Argent Security, a world he was forced out of when rumours abounded that he was sleeping with his charges. There's no leads, no time and no way Derek is going to rest until Stiles has been brought home safely. (Inspired by this post.)

That is all folks for 2023! Sorry again for a late addition. See you in the new year. Remember to leave kudos and comments for our wonderful writers.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Where do puppet babies come from? How was the lead up to Cade's arrival? Was it easy? Was it stressful? Was it absolutely precious?!

A/N: Friendly reminder: Cade belongs to @iamespecter ! You can find his official intro post HERE!

Now, I did have a lovely talk with Specter and we put our heads together for:

HARLEQUIN CADE CANONS

@tadc-harlequin-au

Where do puppet babies come from?

When two puppets love each other very, very much...they perform the incredibly intimate act of SOUL BONDING!

Soul bonding happens when the hearts of the puppets involved literally open to one another, exposing their soul die. Their souls will interact and bond together in a transcendental experience where both puppets will be able to feel each other's emotions and even fragments of experiences or memories.

When Caine and Pomni did this, they felt their souls reach out to one another and just went along with it in the heat of the moment, not fully realizing what they were doing.

Remember, Cade is the FIRST puppet child in history.

And not every soul bond will result in a new soul, we don't know the success rate yet.

But what about old-fashioned sex? YES, puppets can have sex like humans used to, however, only the enlightened can. When a puppet becomes enlightened, inky black flesh literally sprouts from the die and spreads out through the core of the body, imitating organs. This can include "genitalia", mimicking what the soul is most comfortable with. (It's really gross if you think about it too hard)

There is no risk of puppet pregnancy from acts of the flesh.

What was the birth like?

When a new soul is created, it latches on to the host die and must consume energy from the host for a period of time before being extracted and placed in its own die.

Because Pomni and Caine were unexpecting, and unprepared, this led to a rough pregnancy. Pomni became weak and lethargic to the point of being bedridden. She was extremely irritable, more than usual, and even had cravings.

Births are as simple as someone who has high enough capability with their soul magic to remove the smaller soul from the host and place it inside a new die. From there, it can be placed inside it's own body.

Caine saved Pomni's life, the new soul was inside her for way too long and weakened her to the point of being life-threatening. Once it was removed, and Pomni recovered, Caine left it up to her on whether or not they should keep it.

She chose to keep the new life.

How do they grow up?

There are only three stages to physical puppet growth: child, teenager, adult. However, modifications can be made during these three main stages to change the puppet's body as the soul matures.

These three stages are divided by full body transfers from one to another, where the die is removed from the old body and placed in the new one.

The puppet's body type is determined by the soul. When the die is placed in a new body, it will either accept or reject. Building a new puppet becomes trial and error to figure out what fits best.

Caine didn't even realize that this new soul involved him, and not Pomni's soul fragmenting itself, until he built a body that the die accepted.... And it looked a bit like him.

That's how they found out having children at all was even possible. Their wonderful son Cade, their Miracle Star.

[steddieficrec]

do u have any recs for fics where eddie accidently comes out to steve or steve accidently finds out and eddie panic’s thinking steve is gonna hate him but steve obvs doesnt

This took forever I know! But I wanted to actually make a list and ended up finding new ones that I love and some re-reads. I hope you enjoy it.

Pretty, Pretty Boys by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 4,097 I Teen)

Steve knows that Eddie is gay, what he doesn't expect is to hear so many details about the guys that the metalhead has hooked up with or is interested in approaching. He also doesn't expect to feel so bothered—so annoyed and uncomfortable about it.

Or, 5 times Steve was unhappy about Eddie being with or talking about another guy. 1 time Eddie was unhappy about Steve doing the same (but didn’t need to be).

Questions & Answers by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 6,781 I Mature)

Steve doesn’t have a problem with Eddie being gay, but he does have questions which end up leading to practical demonstrations.

smoking guns (hot to the touch) by fivecenturiesverse

(1/1 I 7,590 I Teen)

Sure, they've saved the world, but the best part of that really is that it doesn't end there and in a town where everyone thinks he murdered a girl, he's at least got Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. It's really not his fault he accidentally starts living at Steve's house, he was invited, after all. There's a mystery too, about Barbara Holland and Steve's pool.

“Your boner is digging into me,” says Robin, and Steve snorts a tired sort of laugh. “I don’t have a —” “You do, I can feel it. Gross.” “Okay, but it’s only a little one,” he says in a small voice which sounds like he’s impersonating someone. “Are you ever going to let that go? I peed a little bit when the Russians got the torture devices out, okay?” She sounds amused, though. Eddie jolts. “Russian torture devices?” Robin carries on like she didn’t hear him but Steve catches his eye and he’s grinning. “How do you even have a boner dude? You were definitely having a nightmare I know your twitching means a nightmare… Did you have a boner over Vecna?”

Dirty Words by morningberries

(1/1 I 10,207 I Explicit)

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

OR

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

Turn Your Back on Mother Nature by gr0gu

(4/4 I 16,996 I Teen)

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Steve was supposed to work with Robin at the Family Video, flirt with the many many girls who came to browse the expansive selection of VHSes, go on some dates, and hopefully find The One.

It was supposed to be a notably upside-down free year.

And, hey, for what it's worth? He wasn't supposed to be pinned down on a mattress by Eddie Munson either.

And he certainly wasn't supposed to be enjoying it.

But that's getting a bit ahead of things

The Worst Mixtape Ever Made by nbfutureboy

(10/10 I 17,999 I Mature)

“It’s a gift, so you gotta listen to the whole thing, okay? I think-- I think it’s got what it takes.”

There’s an art to making a mixtape - and Steve Harrington has decidedly ignored all semblance of art in creating a mixtape for Eddie Munson. Too bad Eddie’s fascinated with how impressively terrible his song choices are.

took you for a working boy by pukner

(6/6 I 46,823 I Mature)

"Do you--Harrington, do you know other gay people?" "One," Steve says, and then, after a moment, "and a half." "And a half?" Eddie boggles at him, "What does that mean?" "He's figuring it out!" says Steve, defensively, "Taking his time, y'know? Whatever, the point is. It's cool you're gay, man."

Eddie comes out to Steve, and Steve's heartbroken about it for some reason. Eddie thinks Steve's dating Robin. Everyone else thinks Steve and Eddie have been dating this whole time. Robin doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

Also, Hawkins has been cracked open like a badly-baked cake, and everyone's settled into the most mundane apocalypse possible. Eddie Munson starts a radio programme about it.

Meanwhile, Steve gets his nails painted, and outsources a crisis he isn't having.

start by pulling him out of the fire by pricklywhicket

(10/10 I 85,554 I Explicit)

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

No, wait. That’s not right. That’s Hitchhiker's Guide. Or was it Restaurant at the End of the Universe? Whatever, not important.

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

Except…he didn’t. He couldn’t have. Because Eddie Munson is currently arguing with himself in his fucking head about sci-fi quotes, which doesn’t feel especially like something that a dead person would have the capacity to do.

The bats had killed him. There had been pain, and the sick sensation of tearing flesh. He’d had to swallow past a mouthful of his own blood to tell Henderson he loved him. Surely those were symptoms of imminent death.

And yet.

On April 1st, 1986, Eddie Munson opens his eyes in a dim hospital room. There’s a gasp from his left, and he tries to turn his head towards the source.

“Easy there, kid. They’ve got you trussed up pretty good.”

Eddie doesn’t need to see him. He’d know that voice anywhere, in any universe, hell dimension or otherwise.

“Uncle Wayne?”

A story about the families we find and the love that finds us.

Steady as He Goes by StrangerThings1975

(14/14 I 86,759 I Explicit)

Steve and Eddie are under the misconception that they dislike each other.

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Eighteen*

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: nsfw 18+ only pls!! p in v, unprotected sex, tipsy/drunk sex, possessive/protective stan, gambling mentioned (not in a negative way though), gross guy in a casino, some fluff! i also wanna thank @danni3l SO MUCH for the inspiration, his help on the direction of the fic and for the support so far!! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with eventual smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! TYSM for all the support so far!! w/c: 4,069 As we entered the restaurant, Stan held the door, his gaze lingering a beat longer than usual as I stepped inside. We made our way to the table, the warm, dim lighting casting a glow across the room. When I looked up, I caught him watching me, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After we were seated, a friendly waiter approached to take our drink orders. Stan ordered a whiskey neat, his usual choice, while I opted for a glass of white wine. As the waiter walked away, I noticed Stan watching me, his smile growing as if he was savouring this moment.

“You look… incredible tonight,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost like he hadn’t intended for it to sound quite so earnest. He reached for my hand across the table, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles, his eyes meeting mine over the rim of my fingers. “I mean, you always do, but tonight… well, you’ve outdone yourself.”

For a second, I was too caught off guard to say anything, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked at me with that rare, unguarded expression, the kind that made me feel like we were the only two people in the world.

I felt my own smile tug at my lips. “Look who’s talking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so… polished,” I teased, letting my gaze drift over his dark button-up, the top few buttons left undone just enough to reveal the familiar glint of his chain I’d come to love. “You’ve really stepped it up tonight. What happened to Stan ‘no frills’ Pines?”

He chuckled, a little bashful but amused, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Figured I’d better step up my game, considerin' I’m in such good company.”

With a grin, I raised my glass in a toast, and he clinked his whiskey against it, his eyes holding mine with that easy, familiar charm that seemed to shrink the whole world down to just us. In that moment, the lively hum of the restaurant faded away, leaving only the warmth of our shared smiles and the spark of something more between us.

We lingered over our drinks, the first course arriving in elegant, carefully plated portions that made Stan shake his head with a wry grin.

“Can you believe they charge for food you need a magnifying glass to see?” he quipped, holding his fork with exaggerated care as if the tiny dish were some kind of delicate artefact.

I stifled a laugh, nudging his foot under the table. “That’s how you know it’s fancy, Stan. It’s all about savouring each bite.”

He gave me a mock-serious nod. “Ah, so this is savouring.” He took a slow, deliberate bite, then broke into a grin. “I gotta admit, it’s not half bad.”

Our plates changed with each course, bringing new flavours and textures that spurred little comments, jokes, and even a few exaggerated “critic” impressions from Stan that had me laughing more than eating. Between bites, we kept the conversation rolling, exchanging old stories and bits of nostalgia. He told me about his favourite old haunts in Vegas—ones that had long since closed or changed beyond recognition—and, in turn, I shared stories from my travels, comparing notes on our experiences with the wild and weird.

At one point, he leaned in closer, his expression softening as the laughter faded. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can keep up with me quite like you do,” he said, his voice low enough that it felt like a secret meant just for me.

I felt my heart skip, and a slow smile crept onto my face. “Well, maybe you finally met your match,” I replied, tapping my glass against his.

Stan’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer, something unspoken in his eyes. “Maybe I did,” he murmured, and I could feel the words settle in the space between us, warm and unexpected.

The final course arrived at our table, a shared dessert. We dug in, enjoying each bite while playfully competing for the last spoonful. As the meal wrapped up, I realised just how natural, how easy, it all felt. It wasn’t often I got to see this side of him, and I found myself wanting to hold onto it for as long as I could.

As the waiter collected our empty dessert plate, we lingered at the table for a moment longer, letting the warmth of the evening settle between us. Stan’s eyes held a trace of something I couldn’t quite place, something that made my pulse quicken as we stood up to leave.

Inside the casino, the energy was electric, a pulsing mix of lights, sounds, and anticipation that made me feel alive in a way only Vegas could. Stan ordered us both drinks, handing me a glass of something sharp and sparkling as he raised his own in a casual toast. 

“To good luck and bad decisions,” he said with a grin, lighting a cigar and watching the smoke swirl above us. 

The air around us hummed with excitement, and I couldn’t help but feel a thrill as I watched him take it all in. His rough edges seemed softened by the glow of the lights and the whiskey in his hand.

We wove our way through rows of slot machines, and Stan insisted on trying his luck with a few spins, dropping coins with exaggerated seriousness and cheering each small win like it was the jackpot. When he finally pulled me toward the blackjack table, he took on a look of mock solemnity.

“Blackjack,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder as if imparting secret wisdom. “A game of pure strategy, skill, and… lettin' them think you’re terrible at it.”

“Oh, is that the trick?” I teased, folding my arms as I leaned in to watch him play.

“Yep.” He placed a small stack of chips on the table and winked. “They never see it comin'.”

We shared an easy laugh, trading jabs about his “foolproof” strategies as he made the game look easy with his relaxed confidence. Each win sent a new spark through the air between us, a thrill shared as we watched his stack of chips grow.

We were so wrapped up in each other’s banter that I almost missed the moment when a man from across the casino strolled over, positioning himself a little too close to me with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Stan noticed immediately, his posture shifting as he angled himself protectively between us, his gaze turning sharp as he locked eyes with the newcomer, his hand still lingering near his drink in silent warning.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the stranger said, ignoring Stan entirely. “How about you join me over at the roulette table? I could show you a good time.”

I felt a mix of amusement and annoyance bubbling up, but before I could say anything, I felt Stan’s arm tighten protectively around my waist, his gaze sharp as he sized up the guy.

“Why don’t you move along, pal?” Stan’s voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it that made the guy’s smirk falter.

The man scoffed, clearly underestimating the man in front of him. “What’s it to you, tough guy?”

Stan’s eyes narrowed, his grip loosening on me as he took a step forward, his voice dropping. “She’s with me. So, why don’t you take a walk?”

The guy chuckled, glancing between the two of us, but instead of leaving, he took a step closer. “Looks like you don’t know how to share.”

And that was it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Stan swung. His fist connected with the guy’s jaw, and before I could process what was happening, the man stumbled back, crashing into a nearby table. Gasps and shocked whispers filled the casino as the scene unfolded, but Stan barely seemed to notice, his expression one of grim satisfaction.

The security guards were on us in an instant, ushering us toward the exit as Stan threw an arm around my shoulders, laughing as we stumbled out into the cool night air.

“Well, that’s one way to get thrown out of a casino,” I said, giggling, breathless from the chaos.

Stan’s gaze softened as he held me close, but I could still feel the protective fire simmering beneath the surface, his grip firm as if to reassure himself I was there, safe and close. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my cheek. “No one’s getting near you while I’m around,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “You’re mine, and I don’t let go that easy.”

He leaned down, capturing my lips with a fierce tenderness, pouring into that kiss all the emotion he rarely let slip. His hands held me firmly, possessively, like he was daring anyone to try and pull me away. The alley fell into silence, save for our quiet breaths and the faint sounds of the city beyond.

I looked up at him, my heart racing as I felt the warmth of his protective gaze and the lingering electricity from our kiss. I took a steadying breath, trying to summon the courage to say what I wanted. “Stan,” I murmured, my fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, lingering there a moment longer than usual. My cheeks flushed as I met his eyes, a shy smile tugging at my lips. “How about we… head back to our room?”

The words came out softer than I intended, and I looked away, feeling a bit bashful. I could sense his gaze on me, and when I looked back, he was watching me with a raised brow, the slightest spark of surprise in his eyes.

His grin turned slow and warm as he tilted his head, looking at me like he’d just discovered something he hadn’t expected. “Couldn’t have asked for a better idea,” he said, his voice a soft rumble as he took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. The intensity in his expression softened to something almost tender as he led me back toward the hotel, giving my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes meeting mine as though he was just as affected as I was.

As we made our way through the lobby, I could feel the anticipation building between us. Stan’s hand wrapped firmly around mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The bright lights and laughter of the casino faded away, replaced by the soft hum of the elevator as it carried us up to our floor.

When the doors slid open, I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. Stan led the way down the corridor, pausing outside our room. He turned to me, his expression serious for a moment as he searched my eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and laced with concern.

I nodded, feeling the anticipation thick between us. “Are you?” I glanced up at him, searching his expression.

His gaze was steady, a hint of possessiveness flickering in his eyes. “I’m fine. No one gets to talk to you like that,” he replied, his voice low and firm, sending a thrill through me. “You’re mine, and I’m not lettin' anyone forget it.”

With a satisfied smirk, he pushed the door open and ushered me inside. The room was dimly lit, and I took a moment to absorb the scene. The city lights flickered through the window, casting a warm glow across the space.

Stan stepped in behind me, closing the door with a soft click. The moment it shut, the atmosphere shifted, thick with unspoken anticipation. I turned to face him, my heart racing as he took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

“Now, where were we?” he murmured, his eyes darkening with intent as he slid his hand up my arm to gently cup my jaw. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through me, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

I felt the weight of his gaze, dark and smouldering. “Mine,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly, each word laced with fierce protectiveness. There was no room for doubt; he wanted everyone to know it.

The city lights outside flickered in harmony with the pulse of my heart. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, intoxicating and impossible to resist. “Stan…” I breathed, the name slipping from my lips like a plea.

He stepped closer, the distance vanished, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. “I don’t want anyone else lookin’ at you,” he said, his voice thick with urgency. “Not like that. Not ever.” His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, tilting my head back so our eyes locked.

I could see the determination in his gaze, and it sent a thrill through me. “You’re not going to let anyone forget, are you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Never,” he growled, and with that, his lips crashed onto mine, hungry and demanding. The kiss was messy, fueled by the warmth of the drinks we had shared earlier, igniting something deep within me. I surrendered to it, my hands finding their way to his shirt, pulling him closer.

Stan broke the kiss, his breath heavy against my lips. “We’ll show ‘em who makes you feel good,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire.

With a swift motion, he turned and pulled me toward the large window, the city sprawled out beneath us. The view was breathtaking, but I was lost in the intensity of his presence. He framed my face with his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Do you like this?” he asked, his voice thick with need. “Knowin’ that you’re mine?”

I nodded, my heart racing, feeling a rush of exhilaration mixed with a hint of danger. His possessiveness fueled something wild inside me, and I craved more.

“Atta girl,” he breathed, leaning in for another kiss, his lips claiming mine with fierce urgency. The world outside faded away as I melted into him, captivated by the man who wouldn’t let me go.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against mine with a fervour that made my head spin. I felt a rush of heat as his hands roamed down my sides, exploring as if he were claiming territory. Clumsily, I reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly but driven by an urgent need. I undid them one by one, revealing the strong lines of his chest, running my hands over the hair that covered his broad torso. His breath caught, and his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and admiration.

“Doll, you’re so gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. He took my waist in his hands, fingers digging in just enough as if to remind me of his protective nature.

Before I could respond, he pushed my dress down, the fabric pooling at my feet. I shivered at the cool air against my skin, but the warmth of his gaze enveloped me.

With a swift motion, he turned me, pressing my back against the window. The cool glass sent a thrill through me as I felt his body heat radiating behind me.

“Let ‘em see,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it.”

The thrill of his possessiveness sent a rush of excitement through me, and I leaned back against him, surrendering completely. The city lights flickered in the background, but all I could focus on was him; his hands, his warmth, and the way he held me against the glass like I was the most precious thing in the world.

As he leaned in, his lips found the sensitive skin of my collarbone, trailing kisses that made my breath hitch. He paused, his teeth grazing my skin, and then began to leave love bites, claiming me as his. Each gentle nip sent a jolt of pleasure through me, igniting a fire in my core.

“Stan…” I gasped, pressing my body closer to his as I felt the cool glass of the window against my back. He took the opportunity to push me gently against it, his hands gripping my waist firmly.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he slurred, his voice a mix of authority and sweetness. He continued his trail of bites down my shoulder, savouring each moment, each reaction from me.

The city lights flickered outside, but inside, the air was thick with our shared energy. I was lost in the sensation, completely surrendering to him, craving more of his touch, more of his possessive nature.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to take in the sight of me, flushed and breathless. “And I’m not lettin’ anyone else have you.”

With that, he sucked a particularly tender hickey below my ear, causing my hands to fly to his hair, tugging it slightly. “Stanley!” I moaned, my head swimming with a mixture of lust and intoxication.

His reaction was immediate and electric. The corners of his mouth twisted into a wild grin, but there was a fierce intensity in his gaze. “Fuck, say that again,” he urged, fumbling with his belt, his hands shaking slightly with a mix of urgency and desire.

“Stanley,” I repeated, this time with more conviction, watching as his breath caught in his throat. The way he reacted sent a thrill through me, igniting something primal within him. He closed the distance, his lips crashing against mine in a fervent kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving only the heat radiating between us. I could feel his hands exploring, mapping every curve, every inch of my body as if he were claiming me.

“God, don’t ever stop saying my name, doll,” he murmured against my skin, trailing kisses down my neck. “It drives me wild.” He sucked at a sensitive spot just above my collarbone, leaving a mark that would remind me of this moment.

“Fuck, Stan, please,” I whined, arching my back, desperate for his touch.

I could feel his belt finally give way, the sound of metal clinking echoing in the otherwise quiet room. “I can’t wait, baby, want you now,” he said, his breath hot against my ear, his possessive tone sending waves of excitement through me.

“Then take me,” I urged, my voice thick with need. The urgency in his eyes matched my own as he positioned me against the window, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

With a fierce look, he entered me, filling me completely. The sensation was overwhelming, and I couldn't help but moan his name. “Stanley!” I cried out, the sound mixing with the thrum of the city below.

He groaned in response, his grip tightening around my waist as he moved with a desperate rhythm. Each thrust was filled with raw intensity, a powerful claim that made me feel cherished and desired all at once.

“Don’t ever forget it,” he said breathlessly, his forehead pressed against mine. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.”

The urgency of the moment surged between us, each movement drawing us closer to an edge we both needed to reach. The city lights twinkled below us like stars scattered across the night. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through me, mixing with the thrill of being so exposed, so utterly his. It was so different like this, the gentle buzz of the alcohol in our systems only adding to the new sensations.

“Oh god, Stanley, just like that!” I gasped, the name spilling from my lips like a prayer. The way it ignited something primal in him only fuelled my desire. He groaned, his hands gripping my hips tighter, anchoring us both in this moment.

“God, you’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice thick with need. “Just like this, right here.” His words were a delicious mix of admiration and urgency, making my heart race even faster.

As he thrust deeper, his breath came in ragged bursts against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I want everyone to see how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my neck. “I want you to feel every bit of this.”

“You feel so good, please don’t stop,” I practically begged. He watched me, his expression a mix of hunger and admiration. I could see the way he appreciated every inch of me, and it only made me feel more alive. “I love you so much, Stan,” I breathed, and that was all it took. He surged forward, capturing my lips with his in a frantic kiss, our bodies moving in a rhythm that felt both urgent and electric.

He whispered my name so tenderly, it took my breath away. “I love you too,” he murmured against my lips, his eyes filled with adoration.

The world outside faded away again, and all that mattered was this moment—his hands on my skin, the heat of his body against mine, and the way we fit together so perfectly.

“Touch yourself for me, baby. I want to feel you squeezing me,” he urged, his eyes watching with hunger as I slipped my hand between our bodies to rub my clit.

As he thrust into me again, I felt the pressure building, the urgency of the moment driving us both closer to the edge. “Together,” I whispered, feeling the world around us blur into nothingness.

“Always together,” he promised, his voice deep and filled with conviction. The city lights flickered outside, but in that moment, it was just us, lost in our own world of desire and connection.

My legs shook as I felt the familiar coil in my belly snap, Stan's strong thrusts faltering as he buried himself deep in me with his release.

As the intensity of our connection began to wane, I felt Stan’s grip soften, his hands now gently caressing my waist. The world outside the window blurred into insignificance, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. I could hear the soft rhythm of our breaths mingling in the aftermath of our passion.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “You okay?”

I nodded, a lazy smile spreading across my lips. “More than okay. That was… incredible.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re incredible.” He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, and I felt my heart swell at the intimacy of the moment.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he suggested, still holding me close. I felt a comforting heaviness in his voice, the kind that promised safety and care.

With a playful tug, he led me away from the window, our bodies still buzzing from the heat of the night. We stumbled slightly, laughter bubbling up from both of us as we made our way to the bathroom. The room was dimly lit, but the glow felt warm and inviting.

After a quick rinse, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close again. “You know, I could get used to this,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Me too,” I replied, leaning into him, feeling relaxed and content.

Once we were done, we made our way to the bedroom, still chuckling at our drunken antics. Stan flopped down onto the bed, pulling me down beside him. The sheets felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body next to mine.

“C'mere,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. I nestled against him, resting my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Stanley,” I murmured, a sleepy smile on my lips.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice thick with affection.

“Thanks for looking out for me. I love you.”

His fingers traced gentle patterns on my back, and I could feel him smile. “I love you too, sweetheart. Always.”

As we lay there, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in each other’s arms. I felt safe and cherished, drifting into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in his warmth. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[hey-haven]

I cannot be silenced! Yuuki Mishima you deserve better!!!!

Looking back I do think it’s kindaaaaa gross how Mishima was treated by both the writers and the fandom. I do think between this and Baby Reindeer (work with me here) people really can’t grasp the idea of a flawed victim.

When it comes to the media, people are more willing to accept a palatable victim. Someone who is either a completely helpless damsel in distress, or someone who can bravely fight back and overcome their abuser and grow stronger from it. But that’s just not how it really works a lot of the time.

I remember when Baby Reindeer came out, there were a good handful of viewers who would go as far as to say that Donny deserved the abuse he was receiving because he was essentially enabling Martha in some way. And then we peel back the curtains and learn the reason why he enables her is actually, arguably, far more horrific than we could have thought.

People didn’t like that he didn’t do the just and noble thing right away, but that’s frankly why I like the story so much. Survivors of abuse don’t just come out the other side fully grown and matured from their experience. They will have to deal with issues that have branched out from the seed that was the abuse. Sometimes we will learn to bite back as a way to cope. Sometimes we can become desperate, clingy, avoidant, angry, violent, paranoid, we can end up hurting someone else. It’s not good and people have every right to be angry when survivors do something bad, but that’s sadly how some people become after dealing with abuse.

So no, the perfect victim you see in stories are almost never real.

Abuse doesn’t make stable individuals. Quite the opposite really. I think it makes a lot of sense for Mishima’s story to go the way it did. Someone who was isolated for years because he was bullied throughout middle school only to become one of the main targets of an abusive, power hungry teacher? No yeah, I see why Yuuki became obsessed with fame and attention. I see why he is extremely clingy to the protagonist. It’s all obvious signs of a sad kid who finally found some form of connection and is desperate to hold on to that. Obviously what he did was not good, but the story makes that very clear. It’s not like they ever tried to excuse his behavior.

I think it’s gross how people whittle him down as some annoying pest, when the thing that made him so clingy and obsessive is years of isolation, bullying, and physical abuse/manipulation. I’m not saying you can’t find those aspects annoying, I very much get why it can be. Even I have moments where I go “dude I can’t keep defending you”. That being said, I do think people should be more willing to step back and look at the bigger picture.

Yuuki actually takes the steps to better himself without the Phantom Thieves changing his heart, which goes to show that he actually has a very strong will and moral compass even if it does lose its way now and again. His healing won’t be linear, but he is trying. I think that makes him a stronger person than people give him credit for

[genericpuff]

Do you know "Eggnoid"? It's a rather old webtoon about a girl being put into circumstances on taking care of a robot guy who hatched from an egg (hence the title) the robot guy appears to be a grown man, but he has mental capabilities of a toddler and even acts like one. So, it's like those types of "born sexy yesterday" tropes but the gender reversed. The girl also repeatedly shown crushing over the robot guy and at some point, she called him her boyfriend despite she's supposed to be his caretaker.

I haven't read it, but I can definitely attest that there's a double standard when it comes to gender roles and age gaps / situations of grooming / etc. in literature but especially in webtoons. And by that I mean I've legit seen people hold comics like Lore Olympus accountable for their gross dynamics between a young teenage girl and the much older and richer love interest, but then turn around and say it's "couple goals" for a teenage boy to hook up with a much older woman. At the end of the day there's still a power imbalance due to the age gap and the massive differences in life experiences between the two, gender doesn't really change that.

Big ole' sip of hot tea as a take, but speaking as an AFAB, a lot of women are just as capable of grooming and taking advantage of younger men in the same way as men towards young women, it's just that on the surface people tend to get skittish about addressing that because they don't want to sound like they're going "yeah well actually women though-" and dismissing the notion of toxic masculinity. Which yes, that's a fair thing to worry about, some people do use that as a way to dismiss the arguments made regarding patterns of grooming behavior in men towards young girls (among many other problems in which men and toxic masculinity are held accountable), but like any topic of this nature, it's not always a cut and dry black and white thing. Toxic masculinity and the grooming of teenage girls by adult men is a very real problem! But just like how we can understand the nuance that being a man by default doesn't immediately make you a predator, we should be able to understand the nuance that being a woman doesn't give you a free pass to do the same things we call out men for doing without consequences. It's like the double standard in LO that it's okay for Persephone to do the same things - if not worse - than what Leuce and Minthe and Thetis do, because she's the main character and she's not some scummy "mud-sucking" lower class person, she's rich and a Queen and she's wearing a giant hat so it makes it okay /s

Unfortunately the saying of "I support women's rights and women's wrongs" is being used in a completely tone deaf "literally excusing the main character of her crimes and wrongdoings against others because she happens to be a woman" kind of way, while missing the real point of the saying - supporting women's wrongs doesn't mean you celebrate their abuse towards others, it just means women shouldn't automatically be viewed as irredeemable "crazy bitches" for making mistakes like any other human does, and like any other human, they should be given the opportunity to grow and heal and learn from their wrongs.

When it comes to Persephone specifically, it can't even be chalked up to a "one time mistake" anymore, she's literally been showing patterns of abusive behavior for years now and refusing to take accountability, and now even Rachel is meme'ing on it knowing fully well it's what people are calling Persephone out for in the critical spaces. That's not "supporting women's wrongs", that's enabling the wrongs of a person because they happen to be a woman, and that's not okay. Persephone isn't a "girl boss", she's a bully.

I think the double standard in these age gap romances also speaks to the idolization and fixation on women as being nothing more than conquests for men as well. People who romanticize age gaps between a young woman and an older man think, "Wow, that woman is so mature for her age, enough that an older richer man would choose HER to be his wife! So romantic!" when in reality those who know those dynamics are unhealthy and toxic recognize it as an older man taking advantage of a young woman who's being love-bombed into believing she's "mature for her age" so that she'll sleep with him. Meanwhile, on the other side of it, those who romanticize young men getting with older women tend to come at it from the angle of "well she's so old and washed up, no man could ever love her, her chance for love and a happily ever after is gone now! it's so wonderful of that young man to give that sad and lonely old woman love and attention!" and yet fail to see it from the same perspective of an older person manipulating a young person with zero life experience, because there's still this deeply-rooted ideology that women are "used up" by age 30 and any man who gives her attention beyond that age range is a hero. Completely neglecting the fact that relationships aren't off the table at all for older single people and they don't need to involve robbing the cradle.

I blame the lack of older couple representation in media tbh, so many mainstream romance stories are basically just this:

To pull it out of the perspective of LO and webtoons for a second (sorry, I'm going on a hell of a tangent here), remember how gross it was when it was revealed in Fifty Shades Darker that Christian had been introduced to the concept of BDSM at age 15 through one of his mom's friends (i.e. an older woman!) who Anastasia calls "Mrs. Robinson"? And they had that relationship until he was 21? And they never really did anything about that, it was pretty much just there to explain why Christian was fucked up but he still got married to Anastasia, an innocent woman who he was repeating the cycle of abuse with, and lived happily ever after anyways?

Yeah. That was pretty fucked up.

[joshhutchersonseggsalad]

Tw: long opinion post:)

at this point I'm having a hard time believing these rp accounts are "not minors." Its rlly fucking ridiculous as someone who's an ACTUAL adult looking to interact with other ppl in my fandom and then having to worry if someone is lying about their age right to my face (which has happend to me over 5 times on this app now). There's nothing wrong with interacting with certain ages, I'm talking about the folks who have balls to continue to lie and then try to interact very nsfw with me and my friends who don't appreciate that. There's a fine like between talking about certain topics and being silly (cool idc I was ur age once and made c8 jokes) and then being absolutely gross. We all make mistakes and yes ig it's common for young ppl to lie about their age especially these days, but keep in mind what ur saying to these ppl..imagine how an adult feels when finding out they were actually messaging a 14 year old the whole time. I'm a very forgiving person and don't usually cut ppl out of my life unless they've done me wrong, it's possible others r the same, so there's no reason to be afraid and just be open and honest about ur age at this point, especially if u are role-playing characters and interacting nsfw on a public page. But itd be very valid if an adult mutual were to block u for lying to them and crossing the line multiple times. Honesty, especially about your age, is a mature trait. If u wanna act like an adult, it'd be nice if u atleast had that trait too. Even if u aren't a rp and just a normal account, this applies to u too. Nobody HAS to put their age in their intro/bio but it's def well appreciated by a lot of ppl. Bc also a 15 year old doesn't always want to be talking to a 30 year old (applies to both parties). I understand tumblr is a platform open to anyone, but I think it's important for ppl to realize their spaces and boundaries as well. There are LOTS of young teens on this app who'd love to be friends with other young teens..same goes for adults. If you are under 18 purposely coming on this app to "get freaky" with someone over 18, that's a bit of a problem imo🫤 when it comes to being friends with ppl, it depends on others personal morals and beliefs. For example, I know some 20 year olds who don't mind being friends with a 17 year old, and others who absolutely would not dare to..but it's VERY IMPORTANT to not force a friendship and go against some of those ppls morals by lying about ur age and fooling them when ur actually 16. I've appreciated the very few who have given me proper apologies about the matter privately and proven they'd grow from their mistakes. What bothers me is the rise of young folks putting adult in their bio and thinking they can do as they please with actual adults. We were ur age once. It's not cool having to worry about if one of ur fav mutuals is actually secretly a 15 year old:( if ur gunna sit here and tell me that ppl lying about their age on this app is none of my fucking business, well ig in a way ur right technically, but when it comes to them interacting with me on my accounts, it's hard for me not to have trust issues. Ik it's easy to block but again personally I'm not one to block often, as this app is open to everyone and I'd feel awful if I ended up blocking an ACTUAL adult bc I misunderstood their vibe for a minor:/ and just want to clarify I'm not making this post with like super ill intent and shit. Yes the topic at hand is annoying and stressful when it comes to having trust issues, but there's no need for any negativity. Just know, if ur a minor seeing this post and u r a mutual of mine and u are lying about ur age, u should step up.

thank u for reading.

[mist-see]

I don’t wish you well. 4

Short story.

Inspiration from Brent fiayaz; darling I don't wish you well

Italics=English

I imagine since the Navi can see in the dark, this causes them to have tapetum lucidum, reflective eyes. Well it’s kinda canon with the sully family picture lol.

Yandere Reader × Neytiri X Jake Sully

Summery: You wanting to kill him, you were going to. But you were warned.

⚠️warning⚠️

Mention of killing

The apology went exactly how you knew it would go, awkward, and painful. You loved it. Maybe you loved it too much as you thought about it while bathing in the hot springs, mind flashing back as his eyes widened at your proximity

You considered yourself to be a nice person, very inviting, and very mature for your age.

But it was something about Jake Sully that made you want to be the most obtuse jerk. You couldn’t stand him. You couldn’t stand his lingering sweet funk, his stupid hair that he refuses to let get braided, his small beady eyes, and his weird extra fingers and toes. Just a funny-looking alien in a false body. Just like the rest of them.

Jake Sully made you get very out of character, as someone who is self-aware, you couldn’t even recognize yourself.

(Flash Back)

. You left moats healing cove with a slight attitude. Your blank face only got betrayed by the tail that whipped so fast behind you it sounded like it was slapping the wind and the pointed ears that pressed to your head

Apologize, she says. Apologize for what? I did him no wrong, why am I the one apologizing when he should be the one apologizing? He’s the one that’s ruining everything, always in the way, always around her, stealing her time.

You walk away from the healer's tree and jump branch to branch on your way to your home, where you could only assume Neytiri and Jake would be. Your steps matched your attitude, fast with light stomps, twigs, and moss not having a chance as they crumbled underneath the force of you going up the home tree.

“Hey, you.” You watched as he shuffles in the hammock, head looking up only to catch your reflecting eyes staring daggers into his. He laid there awkwardly stiff as you interrupted him while he was getting comfortable. “Um-yes?” He mumbled, body never moving from its weird twisted position.

You have his body a glance, forcing them away to the hammock beside him. Neytiri wasn’t there. “Oh- she’s getting clean right now.” He notices your lack of attention, the webbed bed beside him having your eyes. “So why aren’t you bathing?” You scrunched up your face, eyes reflected like a cat, snapping towards the man below you.

Jake shifted uncomfortably as your piercing eyes met with his, heart almost stopping. Something is so off with you. You were intimidating, possibly more than the tsahik, you were eerie, dangerous.

You left the worst goosebumps on his skin when you came into eye view. This might be the longest conversation you’ve had with him, and it’s about his personal hygiene. And he’s seen you almost every day.

You already thought low of the man, now he’s just unhygienic? ‘Neytiri, why him!’ He could read all over your face that you didn’t enjoy his presence, he just didn’t know why. You found him such a nuisance, a weirdo. This was something he was used to.

Embarrassed, Jake sat up and turned his body towards you, blue face tinting purple. “W-well you see- look I know it seems like it’s gross but I usually bathe in the morning” “The morning? No that’s wrong. We train, we hunt, we do chores, we eat, we bond, we clean, we bathe, we sleep.” As you spoke your hand was out, pointing towards the man with each point you made.

“Yeah- and I understand that, but I just feel better cleaning myself in the morning-“ “You are cleaning yourself wrong. You sleep dirty. We do not take off our hammocks and clean them, they are a part of Eywa, and they are attached to our home as they grow from it. You are wrong. We are done speaking about it, come, we talk.”

Before Jake even had a chance to speak, you walked down the large tree branch and into the room that was in the trunk of the tree, where the Navi stored their belongings. He took a few seconds to reach you, breathing a little hard. You are embarrassed for him.

“Why are you looking at me like that.” He asked as he released a deep breath. “I am embarrassed by you.” You repeated your thought. This flustered the man some more, causing him to scoff and look away. “If you don’t even like me then why are you even talking to me.” You squinted your eyes at him, not liking the attitude.

“I come to apologize. I was going to kill you today.”

Jake Sully stood there quietly, his small eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them. It almost made you laugh at how wide they stretched. He didn’t know how to act at that moment, what would his reaction be, what would he do? In this short amount of time in silence, he analyzed your mannerisms, seeing how relaxed you were, and how soft your face was.

You didn’t see wrong in your words, nor in your doings. You didn’t even know if he was going to attack you, yet you were so nonchalant. Were you that comfortable in yourself that you knew you’d win a fight with him? Thoughts on thoughts on thoughts, he didn’t even realize how you narrowed your eyes at him as if challenging him to do something, but he did notice the way you stepped up towards him, making him step back in caution.

“Speak.” You commanded him to speak his thoughts. You stepped up to him once again, first time being so close to him, it was a shocker to you both as you were a little taller than him. “This is me apologizing to you Jake Sully. I apologize, speak.”

You wanted nothing more than to bump shoulders with him to get downstairs to bathe and sleep. You could care less if he accepted your apology or not for the simple fact you know he’s hiding something. You didn’t know what, but he is.

Jake Sully sucks in a breath as you invade his personal space for the first time in 2 and a half months. It was overwhelming, this is the first conversation you’ve had with him and you’re apologizing for almost killing him when he didn’t even know about it? When did you try to do it? Why did you try to do it? Had he done something wrong?

Do you know?

Gulping, the man stood his ground and looked up at your 9ft figure, tail no longer swaying in nervousness as he wrapped it around his leg. “I…accept your apology.” He gulps as he looks between your eyes instead at them.

“Good. We shall speak nothing of this. Go bathe, then sleep. Neytiri is teaching you how to make arrows tomorrow.” And just like that, you walk away, leaving the blue man behind you frozen with nothing but nerves and fear.

You must know about the plan. Why else would you want to kill me? You didn’t bring it up? No, you can’t know that’s impossible.

Jake looks over his shoulder, and you were gone.

It felt amazing to speak to him as if he was trash. Because that is what he is.

Trash.

The next day you woke up to the future Olo'eyktan staring down at you with a leaf filled with meat and berries. You jump up at the feeling of something glaring at you, only to see Tsu’tey grinning down at your figure. “Eat worrier, the tsahik calls for you.” You groan at this and fell back against the spongy material of the hammock. Tsu’tey releases a roar of laughter before reaching down and giving you the warm leaf. “Eeeaat sister. Get strength. Later we will bring yerik back for tonight’s dinner.”

You and Tsu’tey were not biological siblings, but you were close friends. This is why you trusted Tsu’tey with Neytiri. But you did have real siblings. An older sister named On’ak, whom you rarely saw as she took care of your elderly parents, a younger brother named Ka’ani, and a baby sister named San who stayed with your parents. “What are you doing now?” You asked, voice scratching while you sit up to eat.

You try to keep up a conversation, but all you could think about is what Moat was going to say. His words going in and out, it was damn near slurring together

“Meeting with Takuk, Ka’ani, and Saeyla. Your brother is getting better, I feel he shall claim his ikran soon.” He praises the younger, something he rarely does, but he was proud of him. “Good. I’m tired of him whining. How’s your training with the Olo'eyktan.” “I cannot stand the meditation aspect. It is boring! I want to fight and hunt. Not sit there falling asleep.” Tsu’tey was the only person that could make you feel calm. He was a true friend that didn’t make you feel pressured or on edge. You could trust him. Even if you were in love with the person he was to marry.

“Enough speaking, eat. I’ll see you later!” You nodded a bye to him as he stood from the branch and went downstairs. You have no idea what’s in store. Oh, Eywa.

“Child you are late! Sit!” You couldn’t even speak out a proper greeting as the tsahik shoved you over to the cushions. “What is the rush?” You ask the lady, watching as she closes the cloth that separated her room and the stairs. Her fast pacing made you nervous “There is something you need to know… and you will not like it.” She took in a deep breath before sitting down directly beside you.

I won’t like it?

For some reason, you knew. You had a feeling…and you knew.

“What? What is it?” You felt that feeling again. That feeling when you first saw Jake sullies eyes lock with Neytiris. That deep pit of nausea and disgust forming in your gut. You were about to throw up.

“As you know, polyamory relationships are quite common for us Navi folk.” Where is this going? “I used to be in one before my children were born, my second wife, shízolí. That was until she fell sick many years ago.”

You were dead silent, jaw clinching and eyes widened as you were praying to Eywa that the vomit bubbling in your stomach wouldn’t come up with full force. “Get…to it.” You swallowed thickly, anticipation jumping through your bones, disgust rattling in your gut just as it did when you saw those sky people shoot up your friends a year ago.

Moat watches as you freeze up. You are truly dramatic. Just as she was about to speak your truth you cut her off.

“Do not tell me if you’re going to say what you are about to say.”

“Well, child do you want me to stay quiet or tell you.”

“I want my ikran to bite my head off.”

“You are to marry my daughter y/n. Not only that but you are to marry Jake Sully as well.” Oh god, you felt it coming up. “I can’t- I- I won’t.” You took in a deep breath, about to stand up to pace around. But the tsahik holds you down, forcing you to keep her facing you.

“You can, and you will. It’s Eywas way.” Her eyes widen as she hisses at your defiance. “What about my friend?! Hm?! The future leader of this clan??! What about Tsu’tey!?” Your voice cracks as it raises. Marrying your best friend sounded like such a dream, all to be burned down with knowing you’d have to carry that disgusting thing children one day.

Those babies don’t deserve a colonizer for a father. They didn’t deserve that.

“He will understand when it comes down to it! He loves Neytiri, yes! But his heart and soul belong to someone else. He will get over it as your future continues.” Her voice mellows down into a whisper, eyes no longer wide as she tried to calm your beating heart and wondering eyes.

“What future Moat? The future where my brother looks at me with disgust? The future where I lay on my back to mate with the alien that tries to steal my mate?! Or the future where I and my best friend, my mate, my Neytiri have to lay on our sore ass backs to push out his big-headed ass kids.” Your voice was monotoned, eyes going blank as you bore them into the leader of the clan.

“Yes. And that is your future.”

________________

Comment to be added to the tag list < (I keep forgetting to tag ppl l'm so sorry Imao)

@hoodiepandaninja16 @daenerysluvrr @deranged-andcute @eichenhouseproperty @vivangothic @fweguchi @18lkpeters @neteyamforlife @luvvsnae @minkyungseokie @my-skeleton-hats @zoexme @loaksmuntxa

Part three<<<<<

Part five>>>>>

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

My Sweetest Downfall - Chapter Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Work Summary:

Eddie’s back from the Upside Down, but things aren’t exactly how he left them. Hawkins is in pieces, his friends are scattered and the love of his life is… pregnant?

Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3394

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @eddiesgirlforever @harrys-tittie

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

I don't think I mentioned this before but I'm never going to specify whether reader is full/half/adopted siblings with Steve, so she can be of any race/ethnicity. I'll try my best to be inclusive/vague in my descriptions.

Starting this week, I'm going to be updating this fic weekly (every Monday).

Warnings for shitty parents, pregnancy, vomiting (a lot), grief, depression, reader being kinda mean to steve even tho he's a good boy, reader not taking care of her hair (or herself generally), bad relationship with food, nested flashbacks

---

~ FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ~

A sharp tapping on your bedroom door roused you from sleep. You sat up suddenly, dazed and confused. Your bed was cold. You grimaced.

In the time since you’d learnt about Hawkins’ dark underside, you had gotten used to the nightmares.  You could handle them. What you weren’t prepared for were the other kind of dreams.

When you slept, Eddie was alive. He would lounge beside you in your bed, drawing long forgotten laughter from deep inside you. He would hold you, kiss you, tell you that he adored you. Touch you in ways that you never wanted anyone else to touch you.

Awake, you felt hollow.

When Steve called your name through the door, you tried to say, “come in,” as naturally as possible, but your throat was tight.

He opened the door, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Hey. How are you feeling this morning?”

Now that was a question. How were you feeling this morning?

You took a quick inventory: your throat hurt; your eyes were crusty and sore from crying; you hadn’t showered in days so you felt sweaty and gross.

“I’m okay,” you said, and Steve frowned.

“I thought I could make pancakes?” he suggested. Admittedly, pancakes did sound good. “Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll make breakfast, and then we can go for a walk?”

You tried not to groan. Steve had been doing this since your parents left. You knew he was only doing it because he cared, but right now you bristled against even the gentlest suggestion that you should eat, or bathe, or exercise. You knew that Steve wasn’t judging you – you knew that – but hearing the words out loud still hurt.

But he was just trying to help you. You bit back your harsh response and nodded instead.

“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

A smile broke across his face. “Great!” he said, as if the thought of you doing the bare minimum was actually impressive.

You hated all of this. Steve was treating you like you were made of glass. The two of you had always good-naturedly bickered at each other, poking and prodding and making sarcastic jabs, and now the only mode he seemed capable of was gentle, earnest compassion. It sucked.

Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself as you went into your bathroom and turned on the shower. It was a quick wash, dragging soap over your body and continuing to ignore the growing problem of your hair. When you were done, you brushed your teeth quickly and then dressed in clean(ish) sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You put your hair up and out of the way, and then covered it with your hood, trying not to think about it.

Steve was just plating up the pancakes when you made it down into the kitchen. He gave you a weak smile, which you returned even weaker.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Right.” Steve took that as his cue to not ask any more stupid questions.

Staring down at your plate of pancakes, you felt suddenly ravenous. You hadn’t been eating well. As you tucked in, you could feel Steve’s eyes on you.

You cleared your throat. “You’ve got work later, right?”

“Yeah, but not until this afternoon. Plenty of time to hang out.”

He didn’t ask you if you would be okay alone in the house. Not since you’d snapped at him for treating you like a broken doll. Steve didn’t deserve that. He was trying, and you weren’t. So you decided to offer him an olive branch.

“It’ll be nice to get out of the house,” you said, as breezily as you could. Steve’s eyes widened, but a broad smile soon followed. You looked back down at your pancakes.

*

Hawkins being Hawkins, nature walks weren’t advisable, but when Steve suggested driving into town to walk around the mall, you shot him down. You really didn’t want to be anywhere where you might run into people.

So the two of you set off on foot, hiking along the edge of the woods, never straying more than 20 feet from the road. You both knew what dangers lurked in the darkness.

As much as you hated to admit it, Steve had been right about walking making you feel better. The fresh air cut into your lungs, an ache blooming in your chest. It was better than feeling numb.

Steve cleared his throat. “I was thinking that we could do a movie night some time soon. We could invite Robin.”

“Sure,” you said, non-committally.

“Or something with the kids. It’d be nice to all get together in one place again.”

All. You grimaced at the use of the word. There were some people who were never coming back, no matter how much you wished it.

Barb. Benny. Bob Newby. Chrissy Cunningham. Even Billy, for all his faults. Not that you would ever have invited him to your house.

And of course, there was Eddie. You would never get to have a movie night with him again. He’d never crawl through your bedroom window and fall asleep by your side. You would never get to kiss him again.

You stopped in your tracks, throwing your arms out to try and keep your balance.

“What is- Oh my god.” Steve jumped back as you vomited all over the patch of earth in front of you. You swayed on your feet, so he scooted around the splash zone to get to your side and put an arm around you. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head, and then bent forward to hurl again. Steve clutched at your jacket, trying not to let you fall.

You found yourself reminded of something that happened when you were a child. Your parents had been more present then than they were now, although that was a low bar. Your general needs were taken care of by nannies more often than not, but on this occasion, your parents were taking you and Steve on vacation.

It was a long drive down to the lake house, and at six years old, your feet didn’t touch the floor when you were sitting in the back of the car.

“Mommy?” you called out to her, but she was leaning on her neck pillow, sunglasses hiding the fact that she was asleep. “Mommy!”

“Keep it down,” your dad snapped, “I don’t wanna hear your whining.” You shrank back into yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What’s wrong?” Steve whispered to you. He had been staring out of the window until you’d spoken, but now his focus was on you.

“Feel sick.”

He pulled a bottle of water from his door, cracked the lid open and then handed it to you. You took a big gulp, but the water was unpleasantly warm, so you pushed it back towards him.

He must’ve seen the expression on your face, because he said, “Dad? Can we pull over? I think she’s gonna be sick.”

“We’re not gonna make it there before sunset if we keep having to stop for you damn kids. Now shut the hell up.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispered to you. He took your hand in his pressed his fingers against your wrist. “My teacher showed me a place where you can press to make you feel less sick.” As his clumsy, eight-year-old fingers fumbled to find the pressure point, you gripped the seat suddenly.

“Dad-” you tried to say, but before you could say anything else, you threw up all over yourself.

“Dad, she’s been sick.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, readjusting his rear-view mirror to get a look at you, and then let out a deep sigh. “We’ll stop at the next rest-stop.”

Hot tears pricked at your eyes. Embarrassed, you sniffed, trying to keep them in, but to no avail.

“Hey,” Steve murmured. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you all cleaned up and you’ll feel so much better.” You nodded weakly.

The next rest-stop, as it turned out, was very sparse, with only a restroom and a few benches. Your dad got out of the car and opened your door before you’d even had the chance to undo your seatbelt.

“You little shit,” he hissed. “You got it all over the upholstery. Do you know how much this cost?”

Bewildered, you stared back at him. “I don’t know, daddy.”

“Get out of the car.”

“What’s going on?” said your mom sleepily. She had evidently taken her sleeping pills for the drive.

“Get up,” he said to her. “You need to clean this up. Your daughter vomited all over it.”

“Why do I need to clean it up? She’s your daughter too and it’s your car.”

“I’m gonna take her to go get cleaned up,” Steve announced loudly. He helped you out of the car, snagged your backpack from the trunk and then took your hand. Your parents were still sniping at each other behind you as you walked away.

“Mom and dad are fighting because of me,” you said as he ushered you into the bathroom. There was only one stall, so you hoped no one came along and needed to use it.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are they going to get a divorce?”

“No, sweetpea.” That comforted you a little.

With Steve’s help, you removed your soiled cardigan and t-shirt. He dropped them both into the sink to rinse them, and then wet some tissues for you so that you could wipe yourself down.

Ten minutes later, you were dressed in a clean t-shirt and sweater, and your dirty clothes were rinsed and shoved into a plastic bag. Steve got you a cold water from the vending machine, and the two of you sat in the sun on one of the benches while your mom cleaned up your seat in the car.

The memory made your heart hurt. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Now, Steve was ushering you back to the house, one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady. At least this time you hadn’t got any on your clothes. This time, though, throwing up didn’t make you feel any less sick. If anything, you felt worse.

As soon as you were through the front door, you sprinted to the downstairs bathroom and bent over the toilet, hurling up the contents of your stomach. Your knees trembled, and you sank down into a kneeling position. You could hear the creaking of floorboards outside the door, as if Steve wasn’t sure if he should come in or not.

After a moment, his footsteps retreated. Fine. Good. You had wanted to deal with this alone anyway.

But he didn’t leave you to deal with this alone. Thirty seconds later, the bathroom door swung open and he placed a bottle of water on the floor beside you.

“Hey…” He rubbed your back soothingly. Another surge of vomit had you blinking tears out of your eyes.

Without warning, Steve pulled back your hood, probably to get your hair out of the way. You flinched.

He said your name softly, and his pitying tone convinced you that he had noticed the state your hair was in. You screwed your eyes shut and threw up again.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the vomiting subsided. It had left you sweaty and cold, with a horrible taste on your mouth. You opened the bottle of water and drank some down, trying to get rid of the burning acidity in your chest.

As you got shakily to your feet, you found that Steve was still watching you. He had a sympathetic look on his face that made you want to punch him. How dare he feel sorry for you, after everything you’d been through.

You balled up your fists, your face hot with shame.

“Hey…” he said, wincing. “Please let me help you. I want to help you.”

Reluctantly, you let him.

If there was one thing Steve knew, it was hair. At his behest, you took your second shower of the day, this time taking your time to properly shampoo and condition your hair. When you exited the bathroom, you found that Steve had stripped your bed of its sheets, which were starting to get a little musty, and put on a load of laundry.

You put on a clean, dry pair of pyjamas, and found Steve downstairs, cleaning up the bathroom that you’d spent ten minutes puking in, wearing marigold gloves.

“Get comfy on the couch,” he said, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” And sure enough, he returned to you holding a whole box of hair products. “Just trust me on this, okay?”

So you did.

It took many hours, several bottles of conditioner and all sorts of other products that you’d never even heard of, but eventually, Steve managed to tackle your hair into a manageable state. You had been crying on and off – it sometimes felt like Steve was yanking your hair out of your scalp – but now you felt all cried out.

Part of you appreciated the pain. You had hardly cried since Eddie’s death. If the pain managed to break through the numbness to make you shed a few tears, that could only be a good thing.

More than once, you suggested cutting it all off. Your brother adamantly refused.

When he was done, Steve looked exceedingly proud of himself. He held up a mirror like a hairdresser, showing off his handiwork. You just put your arms around him and hugged him tight.

~ PRESENT DAY ~

Eddie couldn’t help but steal glances at you. You were sitting in an armchair, a big, cosy dressing gown hiding your baby bump, clutching a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

Making the hot chocolate had been a struggle, since Steve wouldn’t leave Eddie alone with you. It was like the riddle where you have to get a fox, a chicken and a bag of grain across a river and you can’t leave the fox with the chicken or the chicken with the grain.

Eddie supposed that made him the fox. He balked at the idea that he could ever hurt you. Steve had never trusted him before, but they had found an uneasy truce. Now, that was all out of the window.

Steve had made Eddie come into the kitchen with him while he made the hot chocolate, leaving you alone in the living room. In a brief concession to civility, he had offered Eddie some too, but he’d declined. He thought he might puke if he ate or drank anything right now.  

“Hop’s here,” Steve said suddenly, and sure enough, the crunch of tyres on the gravel of the driveway reached Eddie’s ears.

Eddie took the brief moment while Steve was answering the door to steal another glance at you, and found you looking back at him. He offered you a smile, but you quickly looked away.

It turned out to be not just the chief, but the entire Hopper-Byers clan. Eddie had never met Will, nor Eleven, but he’d heard plenty about them. The two young teens were wearing hoodies and shoes over their pyjamas.

He remembered Jonathan from school. Jonathan eyed him with suspicion, but he supposed he couldn’t blame him for that. Joyce barely glanced at Eddie, beelining over to you to give you a hug, which you received gratefully. Eddie knew that you’d always loved Joyce. She’d been good to you when your own mother would barely even look at you.

“Munson,” said the chief. Or not the chief. Eddie didn’t really know what Hopper’s rank was now.  Still, as a drug-dealer and general troublemaker, he had been all too familiar with the chief.

“Hop,” said Eddie, getting to his feet.

“Last I heard, you were dead.”

“I could say the same about you.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Hopper actually smiled at that. Perhaps Joyce’s influence had mellowed him out. Or so Eddie assumed, as they evidently seemed to be living together now.

“Are you a zombie?” he asked.

“Uhh, no?”

“Vampire?”

“Well, I have a certain thirst for blood, but that’s not new.” Eddie grinned, but Hopper didn’t.

“This isn’t a time for jokes, kid. Are you flayed?”

“Am I what?”

“Sit down. My daughter is going to tell us if you have any connection to Vecna.”

“W-What?”

Hop put one hand on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the couch. Eleven, whose short curly hair was tousled with sleep, perched on the edge of the coffee table. She closed her eyes.

“What’s she doing?” asked Eddie nervously. He’d heard a little about what she could do, and was mildly concerned that she might be about to snap his neck.

“She’s checking to see if there’s any trace of the Upside Down on you. If you’re a zombie, or one of Vecna’s puppets. If you’re dangerous. While she’s doing that, I’m gonna ask you some questions.”

“Maybe we should-” Steve started, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you snapped.

He swallowed nervously, but acquiesced. Eddie could feel all eyes on him. He felt awfully exposed.

“What happened to you in the Upside Down?” asked Hopper.

“I don’t… I don’t really remember?” Eddie tried to think, but a flash of pain lanced through his brain, and he flinched. Eleven flinched too.

“What happened?” Hopper asked her, one hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Keep asking questions,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Well?” Hopper turned to Eddie again.

“We were… we were fighting the demobats. I got overwhelmed. There were too many of them.” He winced, blinking slowly. “They were biting at me. It hurt. A lot.”

“And then?”

“I don’t remember anything else.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Eleven, opening her eyes. “He’s not flayed. Not a zombie. Human. Alive. Something is wrong with him. But he is human.”

“‘Something’ is wrong with him?” asked the chief.

“Well, what’s new?” Eddie forced out a smile.

The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. That was, until you huffed out a laugh. Eddie turned his head towards you, and found you wiping tears from your eyes.

After that, Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. Hopper and Joyce were talking to you and Steve about what to do now. The gist of it seemed to be to keep a close eye on Eddie. Eddie wasn’t listening. He was watching the way tears kept rolling down your cheeks sporadically. Steve was tense beside you, arms folded across his chest.

“We could take Eddie home with us?” Joyce suggested. “That way we could keep an eye on him to ensure he’s safe.”

“No way,” you said. “Absolutely not. He and I have some catching up to do.”

Joyce glanced down at your baby bump, grimaced, but then nodded. “Of course.”

“If anything happens – and I mean anything – you call us, okay?” said Hopper. “But it’s four in the morning, so I’m gonna take my family home. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me,” you said, very abruptly. Then your expression softened. “Thank you for coming over. We really appreciate it.”

“Alright.” Hopper clapped Steve on the back. “You did the right thing, kid.”

You stood up to see them out. It was evidently a struggle to pull yourself to your feet, and Eddie was about to offer you a hand when Steve stepped in and helped you out.

You stepped forward and gave Joyce a hug. Then you gave one each to Eleven and Will. And then the family were retreating out the door, piling into Hop’s car and driving away.

You and Eddie and Steve were left alone. Steve was clearly fighting off a yawn.

“Steve? Can I talk to Eddie alone for a minute?” you asked.

His expression tightened. “What for?”

“Because I want to talk to him,” you snapped. “Why else?”

“Okay…” He looked from Eddie to you and back. “I’ll go and make up the guest room. Yell if you need me.”

Eddie waited until Steve’s footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. He started to speak, unsure of what he really wanted to say, but was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight.

---

Notes:

When I was at university, I went through a period of being so depressed that I neglected to brush my hair for months. The more tangly it got, the worse I felt, and the less I wanted to deal with it. Eventually I went to visit my long distance bf at the time, and he asked me why I wouldn't take my hair down. With his help, I tackled it. Using a shit-ton of conditioner, he helped me brush out some of the tangles, but the stress got too much and we ended up having an argument and me having the worst panic attack I've ever had. He stayed with me until I was calm, and then he went home. I finished my hair myself, using two bottles of conditioner. The next day, it was the softest it had ever been. I never let it get that bad again.

Recently I was in hospital with a broken ankle. My family came to see me after surgery. I was so hungry, I hadn't been allowed to eat all day and I was constantly on the verge of tears. My hair was a mess. It was super tangly, so my mum brushed it for me and then plaited it so it would stay neat and not tangle. I cried the whole time because I've been pretty starved for affection.

Honestly I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all this, but it feels kinda important that you know where I'm coming from here.

Ciao.

Next Chapter

[majaloveschris]

Maja I love you and what you post but please I feel the need to get this off my chest, to some people:

I can't stand that woman as you do, but can we please stop with "bec of her age" or "the age gap" as if she was a kid ? even if she looks younger idc whether you like it or not she's an adult of 26 years who will turn 30 in a few years which is not far away, considering this year she'll turn 27, very very close to 30. In short, an adult woman!

And for the record, maybe some of you are too young or immature to understand that age gaps become meaningless when you grow up, so why bothering? I just want some of you to stop infantalizing adult women.

Let's focus on the negative things that she embodies instead, which are the real reasons why we don't want her with Chris!

(this whole ask is not aimed at you Maja, you have my respect and support)

 

Look, I get what you mean. Yeah, they are both adults and were when they supposedly met. However, she was 23 at the time, and being 23 or 26 is different. Maybe people would have different opinions of the age gap if she was a bit older when they met, and let's be honest here, one of the reasons she looks younger is because she wants to look younger.

I wouldn't say thinking age gaps are problematic is immature. Some people think it's gross and inappropriate when older people go for younger people, and someone has no problem with it. Besides the written and unwritten laws and rules, everybody can decide whether they are okay with an age-gap relationship or not, or whether they would be willing to be in one or not. Not liking age gaps in relationships is normal and not immature. Just because you are over, for example, 25, it doesn't mean being in a gap relationship is healthy. Again, everybody can decide whether they support it or not, but not doing so doesn't mean they are too young or too immature. I think it's actually the opposite. Not every age-gap relationship is healthy or based on true love. A lot of things can go sideways, just like in any other relationship, but when there is a bigger age gap, I think people are usually and should be more cautious.

If people don't like them because of the age gap, that's their opinion, and just like everybody else in an age-gap relationship, especially if they are famous, they also have to deal with this. I agree that sometimes people take it too far, and it's extremely inappropriate to call him a pedofile or her a child bride. It's disgusting. They are neither of those things.

For me, her and her friends behavior and immaturity are the biggest problems. I think I could see past the age gap if she was a kind and mature person and not a really problematic one. Some people wouldn't, and that's their opinion, which we all should respect.

[chrisemrysfics]

This happens often enough that it is frustrating and I wanted to say something about it: can I just please enjoy a platonic/familial Tony&Peter fanfic without that enjoyment being broken by the author insulting or bashing on Starker shipper?

I love their dynamic in canon, I love them as mentor/mentee, I love them as father/son, and the reason I love Starker ship is first and foremost the idea that love is stronger than all the potential issues they face for a potential relationship. Because that's what it is: not inherent wrong aspects, but potential issues. And "potential" means it doesn't always become a reality. Fics that explore when it isn't necessarily healthy, or legal, aren't fundamentally different than fics exploring violent themes for example. It's about the messiness and complexity of humanity, which in itself is beautiful. And in Starker, its because I love their canon dynamic and I love the idea of their love being stronger than the potential issues, that I can enjoy darker/unhealthy depictions of the ship. And it's all fiction, which is first and foremost about telling a story. And a fictional story is entertainment specifically because we know it's fiction and no real human being were harmed to make that fiction, nor does anyone depicted is an actual real human being being harmed in the events of the fictional story.

And you know what is the irony? Not a single fic I've read for Starker makes explicit or implicit comment of the same type about people who only view them as platonic/familial. When I read fics for the platonic/familial dynamic, sometimes the author in the notes will call Starker shipper "gross", or disgusting, and sometimes there are moments in the fic itself where for the idea of them together is thrown around and the characters react "ew", which sometimes make sense in context, but other times, it honestly doesn't feel like it make sense to have this show up and have this strong feeling of being in there for a more "subtle call out". But not a single fic for Starker does the same thing.

Most Starker shipper, myself included, respect if someone just doesn't see them this way. Most Starker shipper will think carefully about the tags to put, and you know what I did see often? Starker author who feel a need to state that they don't condone the real life version of the stuff that they write. It breaks my heart everytime because it's so obviously because they know what part of the fandom say about them. They can't even enjoy and write what they like without feeling a need to try and express it's just them enjoying fiction. Non-Starker act so offended, but they're the one who put pressure onto the rest of the fandom that is either platonic/familial only but respectful, or Starker too.

And you know what? I'll come out and say it: what I fucking don't condone is harrassing other people, and butting your head into the genuine happiness of others. What I happily condone is respect, choice, consent, genuine love, and a real wish for each other well-being even when it's hard or complex or messy. If two or more people genuinely care for each other, choose each other, respect each other, wants to try, and have enough maturity for their choice and consent to not be blind? That is what matter. I wouldn't want to see a late teen with an adult, because the amount of potential issues is enormous, and most of the time, it won't work out or it isn't healthy. But to pretend there isn't a tiny amount of cases where it does work out is a disservice to any relationship that started where it was really iffy, and yet worked out for them because they truly, genuinely loved each other.

You know what else I'll come out and say it? I'm a fucking survivor of CSA, and it's so damn healing to see people who enjoy things I enjoy without feeling it's only because I'm "broken", to see that it's something natural in our psyche. I was robbed the ability to grow up blind to what sex is, I was robbed my consent, I was made to feel powerless. But I recovered from all of this, a survivor and not a victim anymore, and growing up, I was always more mature than my age, which meant I knew that it is possible for someone to feel more mature than others people their age. If I fell in love with an adult as a teen, I would have known the inherent risks. And I would have been so angry, and hurt, to be dismissed, for others to try and take away my agency again. I wouldn't have wanted, and still don't want, someone to feel, or feel again, the hurt of your agency being violated. On the other end, even as a teen, and still as an adult, I would be just as angry to see a child or a teen that is being abused or who is in a dangerous situation, where their agency is not properly respected. As a teen, and now as an adult, it pisses me off to see the way people in fandom can act for mere fiction, because all I see are people who ignore and dismiss other people agency. All I see is people harassing and violating other people. Because I know what the real life feeling is like, and I can recognize it a miles away when it happens.

No fiction has either violated me. But people? Oh yes, they do. They don't even have to come attack me directly. Everytime I see them attack someone else, or make certain comments in their author note. And I'm so damn lucky I did heal, and recover. Because even though I did, it still feels frustrating and hurtful. I cannot begin to imagine how it feels like for those like me, or similar to me, who are still healing and have to face this over fiction. Who might not even know why it hurt, or only in part.

So yeah, this has angered me enough to come out and say it: watch what you are doing and saying over mere fiction, because chances are, what you are doing is violating other people. Abuse, and violation, aren't always sexual or even physical. Emotional&mental abuse, emotional&mental violation, are just as real. And fiction cannot abuse or violate, because there is no one real inside fiction, there is no power. Only real people can hurt others this way.

I didn't spend years healing and recoving to be walked over by people who either don't undestand, or who do but unknowingly (or worst, knowingly) become the abusers. And you, who enjoy dark fiction of any kind, especially "problematic ships", especially ships like Starker?

Thank you. You're the ones who sees what I see, even when you never experienced what I did, and I hope you never had to. Not the ones who act on supposed moral high grounds, but you, you are the ones who truly understand. I am angry for your sake, because I know what it feels like to be violated in the worst of ways, and I never wish anyone to be violated in any way. So thank you for looking into these topics right in the eyes, and knowing there is nothing wrong with enjoying them. Thank you, especially, to the ones that actually point out when the situation is entirely legal, if not risky, and those who show how such ships can be healthy, for unknowingly recognizing how people like me would have felt if a similar situation had happened in real life. For recognizing where the line is between what is violation, and what isn't.

You're attacked so many times from content exploring darker topics, darker depictions of ships, or ships who aren't inherently dark but have potential issues, so for once, I want you to hear it: thank you.

[musicalmoritz]

If Sakumei stay together and go further. What will their date and relationship belike? Family dynamics even (if they adopted kids)?

More on SakuMei! Alrighty so if they got back together I see them being much more mature and ready for a relationship than the first time around. It starts out very slow, they’re hesitant to get back together after what happened the first time. But since they’ve been friends for so long, they fall into a natural comfortability with one another

They enter a honeymoon phase, being the happiest they’ve ever been together. Their friends are happy to see them happy, although there’s some slight jealousy on Natsuhiko’s end. Mei is leaving the art room more and actually trying to enjoy her “life.” Sakura helps her work through her existential problems and figure out who and what she is. Mei helps Sakura make sense of their own feelings and learn how to express them. Instead of focusing so much on their own wants for a relationship, they focus on helping each other. And through that help, they both become comfortable expressing when they’re unhappy with something or want something in the relationship to change. Real healthy shit, we have left their toxic yuri days behind

As for the type of dates they go on, I think they’re very lowkey. They drink tea and read books in the broadcasting room, or in Sakura’s boundary. Due to the open space, their dates often turn into group hangouts, so if they want privacy it’s best to go to the art room or the library. The art room isn’t always safe as Nene and Tsukasa will barge in whenever they feel like it. But the library can get crowded too so really, this school is hell for these two introverts. They make it work though, once the students have cleared out it’s pretty vacant

If you haven’t noticed I’m a big filmbro and like to include movies in just about every fic I write. This is more of a Sakura/Natsuhiko thing but I apply it to other ships with them, I think Sakura would be rly into creepy/gory movies. They have tackled the Disturbing Movie Iceberg (I’m only two tiers down, I’m too sensitive to watch all that shit lmao) and like to make ppl watch gross movies with them. To Natsuhiko it’s a form of torture but Mei doesn’t care for fiction so she’s more indifferent (Ik a lot of the movies on the Iceberg are documentaries/home videos but shhhh we’re ignoring that for this). She complains but she doesn’t get scared or grossed out the way Natsuhiko does, it’s more that she’ll point out how unrealistic the special effects are and make fun of the bad writing. Bad movies are Sakura’s favorite though so they laugh along, that way they end up bonding over their judgemental natures. By the end, Mei might end up falling asleep on Sakura’s shoulder

Most of their dates involve them just sitting around and talking. They don’t always have to say something, but they can keep a conversation going very easily. Neither of them are that talkative in crowds but one-on-one they could yap for hours. Because of this they know each other super well, they’re able to keep up with each other’s interests and viewpoints. They get into deep, philosophical discussions often, which leads Sakura to lighten the mood with tea

Now let’s imagine them in another life where they’re both human and get to grow old together. OG Mei and No.4 Mei are twin sisters here bcuz I said so. I don’t see No.4 Mei doing art full time but she keeps it up as a hobby for whenever she’s stressed, partially because it’s something that connects her to Shijima. She would have an art room in her house full of paintings of Sakura and her family (credit to you for that hc lol). OG Mei absolutely becomes an art teacher tho. I could actually see No.4 Mei going into the medical field and becoming a doctor, since art isn’t really her thing I think she’d be more of a science person. There’s also more personal reasons for it, she wants to help kids that are going through what her sister went through

For Sakura it’s hard to say. I think they’d own some sort of gothic tea room. They sell tea there as well to make some extra income. Not that they need it with their rich doctor wife, but it’s a nice bonus. To commit to the bit they wear black vintage gowns to work every day. And their house is an old manor, funded mainly by the aforementioned doctor wife. One thing abt Sakura is they’re going to commit to an aesthetic. They host a lot of events at the tea room like murder mysteries/scavenger hunts, especially around Fall. Mei stops by each one to support her partner, and when she does she’s always the one to solve the mystery

They have a son, one of those cursed little Victorian boys. They also own an unreasonable amount of cats, all with very formal names. They’re very weird parents, but good ones. I’m getting Addams Family vibes. Mei also goes butch in the future so she can be the Gomez, trust. They encourage their son to learn healthy communication skills and take up hobbies so he can explore his interests and make friends. They’re also very loving towards one another, a very romantic couple. They end up having a wonderful life together, along with their son and many friends who crash the manor. Natsuhiko and Shijima pop in most often, along with Tsukasa and Aoi/Nene. On occasion Mitsuba will drag Kou up to visit but he always gets creeped out by the place. This would make a great family sitcom

Thank you for the ask mootie, I love talking abt SakuMei!!

[therealslimshakespeare]

I think we find these bad behaviors far more intolerable in women. They are simply bad behaviors. In any sex, ya know? Consent, respect, surrendering entitlement -the lack of these are ugly in anyone.

Haha I love all the anons that came in here with their eloquent explanations, mine might be the opposite. For myself, I fear that the above line from ur response was a semi accurate read on me… let me explain. No, I don’t think that it’s worse for a woman to have those traits. If you put a man and woman in front of me, and one was Maureen and one was the male version of Maureen, I would see them as two people who grew up in environments that rendered them far too entitled and who were handed a lot of privilege. And, I probably WOULD have this thought of, while the man is just in this world and social class where he quite literally has been told he can run the show, the woman’s behaviour is probably to some extent a response to how these men have treated her. But. What I will say is (and just so you know, for context, I was one of those anons that was a little upset at Maureen’s inability to be a girls girl). I might be glum and pessimistic but I am SO used to men being gross and exhibiting that sort of behaviour. Which, as a woman myself, makes perfect sense. But I’ve never been victimized by a woman, I’ve never known anyone who has been, and I really think it’s important that women show up and support one another. In a way, I implicitly trust women whereas men need to earn my trust and favour. So in that way, would I be more… taken aback and disappointed in a woman for doing that sort of stuff? Honestly yes. Does that put unfair expectations on Maureen? Maybe! So you sort of did have an accurate read on me there, I will say. It’s kind of me being like, how people say there are unfair expectations of girls growing up earlier/ being more mature than boys and people wanting more from them. I don’t want to be a perpetuator of that, but I guess because I value women more? I also hold them to higher expectations? I don’t know.

Interesting. Thanks for sharing, dear