#like she talks about things I relate so heavily too

[kaleigh-color]

More spicy selfies

I only dress up for concerts apparently. This was for the Eliza mclamb show and when I say I sobbed I truly did it was so beautiful.

[vamptizm]

WHITE CHRISTMAS — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x gf!reader

synopsis: paige invites reader and former teammate—who doesn’t usually celebrate—to celebrate christmas with her family as her girlfriend.

warnings: reader doesn’t celebrate christmas. nonexistent family dynamics mentioned briefly. fluffy ass shit.

word counts: 3677

note: honestly i wrote this for everyone, but mostly for those who may not celebrate and still want to feel included in some way, since ik it can be hard to relate to the whole thing. (divider credits: dollywons)

The glow of the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your cozy apartment in Storrs, casting long, golden beams across the living room floor. A faint chill lingered in the air despite the heater's best efforts, and you found yourself wrapped in a thick throw blanket, idly scrolling on your phone while waiting for Paige to come home from practice.

The sound of her keys jangling at the door pulled you from your reverie. A smile tugged at your lips as she stepped inside, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. Her blond hair, still damp from the post-practice shower, clung to the edges of her knit beanie, and her usual oversized UConn hoodie dwarfed her frame. She looked like the embodiment of comfort and home, and as always, the sight of her brought an instant warmth to your chest.

"Hey, mama," she greeted you with a cocky smirk, dropping her duffel bag by the door and kicking off her sneakers. "Miss me?"

"A little," you replied, already opening your arms as she padded over to the couch. She fell into your embrace, settling against you with an exaggerated sigh, and you pressed a kiss to her temple.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, wrapped up in the quiet kind of love that didn’t need words. It was moments like these that reminded you how much your life had changed since you met Paige. She had made you feel things you never thought you could—security, belonging, and, most of all, an unwavering sense of being loved.

But then she shifted slightly, pulling away just enough to look at you, and you caught that glimmer of hesitation in her eyes. It was subtle, but you had been with Paige long enough to know when she was mulling something over.

"What's on your mind?" you asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip before exhaling a short laugh. "Okay, so, I've been thinking about something..."

Your brow arched, curiosity piqued. "That doesn’t sound ominous at all."

Paige rolled her eyes, though her smile remained. "No, it’s nothing bad. Just—well, Christmas is coming up, and I was wondering..." She paused again, glancing down at where her hands were now fiddling with the hem of her hoodie. "Would you want to come home with me this year? To Minnesota? To celebrate with my family?"

You blinked, her words settling heavily in the air between you. Of all the things you thought she might say, this wasn’t even on the list.

"Your family?" you repeated, as if you hadn’t heard her right.

She nodded, her gaze lifting to meet yours. "Yeah. I mean, you’ve met some of them before, but not like this. Not as my girlfriend." She gave you a gummy smile, scratching the back of her neck, and it was rare to see her this nervous around you. "I just thought... you know, since you don’t usually celebrate Christmas and you don’t have any family around... maybe you could join us. I want you to be there. With me."

Her words were earnest, but they left you momentarily speechless. Your mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts tangling together in a way that made it hard to focus.

What if they didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing or did something awkward? You’d never had the kind of big, supportive family Paige talked about so fondly. What if you just didn’t... fit?

You realized you’d been silent too long when Paige gently nudged your arm. "Hey," she said softly, her tone laced with concern. "You don’t have to say yes. I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I just thought... I’d ask."

"Are you sure?" you managed to say, your voice quieter than you intended. "I mean, are you sure you want me there? It’s your family’s Christmas. It’s... important."

Paige’s brows knit together, and she reached out to take your hand, lacing her fingers with yours. "I’m absolutely sure, baby. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. You’re important to me, and I want you to be a part of this. I want you to see what Christmas is like with my family—our traditions, the chaos, all of it. I want to share it with you."

Her words were a balm to your fraying nerves, and for a moment, you just stared at her, taking in the sincerity etched across her face.

"Okay," you finally said, the word slipping out before you could overthink it. "I’ll go."

Paige’s face lit up instantly, her smile wide and genuine. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the lingering nerves. "Really. I mean, I’m probably going to embarrass myself at least five times, but I’ll go."

She laughed, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "You’ll be perfect," she murmured against your mouth. "And even if you’re not, I’ll love you anyway."

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close. "I guess I’ll have to trust you on that."

And as Paige melted into your embrace, her excitement already bubbling over as she started rambling about how much her family would love you, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something new in your chest.

The flight to Minnesota had been smooth, though the hum of anticipation in the air made the hours feel like they dragged on forever. Paige had insisted on sitting by the window, claiming it was her spot for every flight she’d ever taken, and you’d let her, settling in beside her while she pressed her forehead against the glass and pointed out things she thought looked cool from the sky.

“See that?” she’d said, her voice light and teasing as she gestured toward a cluster of houses dusted with snow. “That’s the exact size of the town you’ll move to when you retire from the league.”

“Wow, so you’re planning my entire life now?” you’d quipped, earning yourself a playful elbow to the side and that cocky grin of hers that you couldn’t help but adore.

“Our life.” The blonde casually corrected.

By the time you landed and grabbed your bags, the cold Minnesota air greeted you like a slap to the face. Paige, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed, even as you shivered despite the heavy coat you’d packed.

“Not a fan of the cold, huh?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement as she effortlessly swung her duffel bag over one shoulder.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“You’ll survive, princess.” she said with a smirk, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your temple. “Besides, I’ll keep you warm.”

You rolled your eyes, but the words made your heart flutter all the same.

The drive to her family home was short, but every minute seemed longer as you sat beside Paige, nerves bubbling beneath the surface. She was chatting about something—probably basketball or some ridiculous story about her brother—but you could barely focus. All you could think about was what awaited you: her family.

You’d met some of Paige’s family before—her dad, her stepmom, and her little brother Drew. Drew, in particular, had taken to you almost instantly, which Paige always liked to tease you about, claiming he liked you more than he liked her. But this time, it wasn’t just about meeting her family as her friend or teammate. This was the first Christmas where you’d be introduced as her girlfriend.

The weight of that reality settled in your chest as Paige drove the rented car, humming along to a playlist she’d thrown together, her hand resting casually on the gear shift.

“You’re quiet,” she said after a while, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

You shook your head, offering a small smile. “Just… thinking.”

“Thinking about how I’m the best girlfriend ever?” she teased, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Because if not, that’s a missed opportunity.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin that tugged at your mouth. “More like wondering if your family’s gonna like me as much when they know we’re dating.”

Paige scoffed, her confidence radiating as she gave a dismissive wave. “You’re kidding, right? They already love you. Drew’s basically ready to ditch me and make you his new sister.”

“That’s different,” you countered, your voice softer now. “It’s one thing to like me as your friend or teammate. It’s another to know I’m… with you.”

Paige slowed the car slightly as she reached for your hand, her fingers threading through yours. Her thumb brushed against your skin, grounding you.

“Listen,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “They’re gonna love you no matter what. And if they don’t? Screw ’em. But I’m telling you—they will. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She lifted your hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss on the cold skin.

Her words worked their magic, easing some of the tension in your chest. You nodded, squeezing her hand in thanks.

“Plus,” she added with a sly grin, “if anyone tries to give you a hard time, just remind them you’re a pro baller while I’m still a college kid. Instant power move.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. Paige always had a way of making even the most stressful situations feel manageable.

When you pulled into the familiar driveway, the house was exactly how you remembered it: warm, inviting, and buzzing with life. Snow blanketed the yard, and the glow of Christmas lights framed the windows like a postcard.

Paige barely parked the car before Drew came bounding out of the front door, his grin wide as ever.

“Finally!” he shouted, jogging over to your side of the car. “You guys took forever. I was about to send a search party.”

Paige rolled her eyes as she stepped out, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder. “Relax, we’re here now.”

You barely had time to grab your bag before Drew was pulling you into a tight hug, his excitement palpable.

“I missed you!” he said, his voice muffled slightly against your jacket.

“Missed you too, buddy,” you replied with a laugh, ruffling his hair.

Paige stood off to the side, hands on her hips as she watched the interaction with a mock scowl. “Unbelievable. I leave for, like, five months, and he acts like you’re the sister he hasn’t seen.”

Drew shot her a cheeky grin. “She’s way cooler and nicer than you.”

“Okay. Just forget everything I’ve done for you, i guess,” Paige deadpanned, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

Inside, Paige’s dad and stepmom greeted you both warmly, the familiarity of it all calming your nerves. Her dad gave you a firm side-hug and a pat on the shoulder, while her stepmom hugged you tightly, telling you how good it was to see you again.

“It’s been too long,” she said, stepping back to look at you. “Paige hasn’t been hogging all your time, has she?”

��Just a little.” you replied, your voice light as you glanced at Paige, who was smirking.

“Good,” her stepmom said with a wink. “Well, make yourselves at home. There’s plenty of food, and Drew’s been asking about you nonstop.”

“Obviously,” Paige muttered, earning a playful shove from her brother as he led you both into the living room.

By mid-afternoon, the house was buzzing even more than before. Paige’s grandparents, aunts, uncles, and a handful of cousins started arriving, bringing with them an abundance of chatter, hugs, and bags full of gifts. You’d barely caught your breath from Drew’s relentless teasing and jokes when you were swept into a whirlwind of introductions.

Paige, ever the calm and collected one, had one arm draped over your shoulder as she led you through the crowd. Her confidence was a lifeline, her voice steady as she introduced you to each family member.

“This is my girlfriend,” she said, her tone casual but filled with quiet pride.

The word girlfriend made your stomach flip every time, but you kept your smile steady, offering polite handshakes and warm greetings.

Her grandparents, a kind and slightly mischievous older couple, were the most memorable. Her grandmother immediately pulled you into a hug, whispering, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you replied with a soft chuckle.

“Mostly,” her grandfather teased, shooting Paige a wink.

“Grandpa,” Paige warned, though her tone was light.

“Relax, kid,” he said, patting her on the back. “You’ve got good taste. We approve.”

Paige smirked, her hand squeezing your shoulder as if to say, See? Told you.

When dinner rolled around, you were starting to feel more at ease. The dining room was packed, the long table barely able to accommodate everyone. You found yourself seated between Paige and Drew, with her cousins spread out on the other side.

Throughout the meal, Paige stayed close, her hand occasionally brushing against yours under the table. At one point, when you thought no one was looking, she leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You look so beautiful right now. Makes me wanna eat you, instead of the food.”

“You’re really leaning into this whole domestic girlfriend role, huh?” you teased, glancing at her.

“Gotta keep you impressed somehow,” she shot back, her eyes glinting with flirtatious amusement.

Her cousins caught the exchange, one of them groaning dramatically. “Can you two not be so cute? Some of us are single and bitter.”

Paige snorted, tossing a bread roll at them with pinpoint accuracy. “Not my fault you can’t pull.”

The laughter and chaotic banter that followed was enough to make your chest feel a little lighter.

After dinner, the family transitioned into games, with Drew and Paige’s cousins dominating the living room for an intense round of charades. Paige dragged you into it despite your protests, her competitive streak flaring up once again.

When it was her turn to act out a movie, she took your hand and pulled you to the center of the room with her.

“You’re my partner,” she declared confidently, ignoring the groans from everyone else.

The two of you worked seamlessly, your dynamic so natural that you guessed “Home Alone” within seconds of her miming setting traps. The room erupted in groans and applause, Drew shouting, “Unfair advantage!”

“What can I say?” Paige said, pulling you close by the hips. “We’re a dream team.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in her gaze made your heart skip a beat.

Later, after the games had ended and most of the family had settled into conversations or dozed off in various corners of the house, you and Paige snuck away to the kitchen for some peace.

The house was still warm and lively, but here in the quiet glow of the fairy lights wrapped around the window, it felt like your own little world.

Paige leaned against the counter, a cup of hot cocoa in her hands. You stood beside her, the hum of distant laughter and chatter wrapping around you like a blanket.

“You holding up okay?” she asked, her voice softer now. Void of any teasing and her usual smirk, that you swore could be heard.

You nodded, turning to face her fully. “Your family’s amazing. Overwhelming, but amazing.”

She smiled, setting her cup down to close the distance between you. Her hands found your waist, her thumbs brushing over the fabric of the sweater her dad had given you. It only made you feel part of her family even more.

“They love you,” she said simply. “I told you they would.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always right,” you teased, your hands resting on her shoulders.

She smirked, her confidence returning in full force. “Don’t forget it.”

You laughed, but it faded into something softer as she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours.

“Merry Christmas, Ma.” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Merry Christmas, P.” you replied, your heart swelling as she kissed you, slow and sweet, under the soft glow of the lights.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. And as Paige’s arms wrapped around you tighter, holding you impossibly close, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

You stirred awake at the feeling of soft, warm lips pressing against your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. A groggy groan left your lips as Paige's voice cut through the haze of sleep.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” she murmured, her voice warm with amusement as she continued peppering kisses across your face.

“Too early,” you mumbled, turning your head to bury it in the pillow.

Paige chuckled, tugging the blanket off you just enough to crawl closer, her weight sinking into the bed beside you. “Come on, it’s Christmas morning. Presents are waiting, and Drew’s already downstairs losing his mind. You’re not gonna make me carry you, are you?”

You groaned again, cracking one eye open to meet her amused gaze. “You’d carry me if I asked.”

Paige smirked, leaning down so her lips hovered over yours. “You’re right. I would.”

The way her words sent a rush of warmth through your chest was enough to finally convince you to sit up, though not without a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, fine,” you muttered. “Let me brush my teeth first, though. You may love me, but morning breath is still a thing.”

Paige rolled her eyes but pulled you into a quick kiss anyway before hopping off the bed, smirking when you stared at her in mock betrayal. “Hurry up, or Drew’s opening all the presents without us.”

The living room was warm and bustling, the faint smell of cinnamon rolls wafting in from the kitchen. Paige’s dad and stepmom were sipping coffee on the couch, while Drew sat cross-legged near the tree, eyeing the stack of presents like a predator watching its prey.

“Finally!” Drew exclaimed when you and Paige walked in, his energy contagious. “Can we start now?”

Paige smirked, leading you to a spot on the floor near the tree. “Go ahead, dude. You’re first.”

Drew wasted no time, tearing through the presents from his parents and sister like it was a sport. The last box in his pile was from you, and he paused, glancing at you with a curious grin.

“This one’s from you, right?” he asked, already pulling at the paper.

“Yup,” you said with a nod, leaning back against Paige. “Hope you like it.”

The moment he got the box open, his jaw dropped. Inside was a pair of custom Nike basketball shoes in his favorite color, his jersey number stitched onto the side, along with a few small, personalized details—his initials, a subtle design of his favorite team’s logo, and a motivational quote you’d heard Paige repeat to him once during practice.

“Yo!” Drew exclaimed, holding the shoes up like they were a trophy. “These are so sick!” He jumped to his feet, throwing himself at you for a bear hug that nearly knocked you backward. “This is the coolest present ever! Thank you!”

You laughed, hugging him back. “I’m glad you like them, Drew.”

“Like them? I love them!” he said, grinning ear to ear as he slipped them on to admire how they looked.

Next, everyone unwrapped their gifts in turns, each one from you met with smiles, laughter, and gratitude. Paige’s dad unwrapped a sleek leather wallet with his initials engraved on it, while her stepmom gasped at the elegant bracelet you’d picked out for her.

Then it was Paige’s turn.

You handed her a neatly wrapped box, and she raised an eyebrow at the size and weight of it. Carefully peeling away the paper, she opened the box to reveal a stunning, customized Rolex. The watch gleamed with purple accents, subtle bedazzling, and an engraving on the inside of the band: ‘Time stops when I’m with you.’

Paige blinked, her usually confident demeanor faltering for just a second as she stared at the watch. Then her lips curled into a grin as she held it up to the light.

“You seriously got me a Rolex?” she asked, her tone hovering between amused and impressed.

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “I didn’t know what to get you. I spoil you with personalized and sentimental stuff all the time, so I figured I’d go all out for christmas.”

Paige leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You didn’t have to, but I’m not complaining. It’s perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Finally, it was your turn. There was a neat stack of gifts with your name on them, but Paige’s was the smallest—a tiny box that she handed to you with a smirk.

“Is this an engagement ring?” you teased, holding the box up dramatically.

Paige only smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not yet,” she said, her voice steady and confident.

That response made your heart skip a beat, and you gave her a mock glare to cover up how flustered you felt. “Don’t say things like that so casually.”

You opened the box to find a gold necklace with a charm in the shape of a basketball, engraved with the date of your first game together at UConn.

“Paige,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the charm as a lump formed in your throat.

“Do you like it?” she asked, watching your expression closely.

You nodded, unable to stop the smile that broke across your face. “I love it. Thank you.”

Paige grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Merry Christmas, mama.”

The rest of the morning was spent surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the sound of wrapping paper being crumpled and tossed aside. And for the first time in years, you felt like Christmas truly had a place in your heart—thanks to Paige and the family that welcomed you with open arms.

[rootedinrevisions]

Texas Orange

SUMMARY: Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him.

**This was my first time writing about Glen himself and not one of his characters. I really loved the idea and the song that inspired this fic, however think I may stick to writing his characters instead of him as a person in the future. **

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

The Texas sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape as you and Glen drive through the winding roads of Austin. The truck hums steadily beneath you, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside.

You glance over at Glen, dressed in a black t-shirt with the orange Texas Longhorns symbol emblazoned on the chest, and a white Longhorns baseball cap turned backward on his head. His sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light, and with one hand on the wheel, he holds your hand gently in the other. You glance over at him, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile when he catches you looking at him.

"This is amazing," you say, taking in the sprawling hills and the way the cityscape rises in the distance. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Glen chuckles, his voice low and smooth, the kind of sound that makes you feel instantly at ease. "I still can't believe that. Austin's pretty great. But, I mean, you grew up on the coast, right? Plenty of beauty there too."

You nod, your mind flashing back to memories of ocean breezes and sandy beaches, a world away from the vast, open skies of Texas. "Yeah, but it's different. I've never seen anything quite like this."

He grins, squeezing your hand gently. "You're gonna love it here. Plus, this is only the start. Wait till you see the stadium-it's a whole other world."

You laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubble up inside you. "Speaking of the stadium, I've got to admit something. I've never actually been to a football game before. My family wasn't really into sports growing up."

Glen's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a teasing grin. "You've never been to a game? Well, that changes today. Texas football is like a religion around here. It's something you just have to experience.

"Hopefully I'll fit in okay," you say, half-joking. The thought of stepping into the massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of passionate fans, is both thrilling and a little daunting.

He chuckles, his voice warm with affection. "Don't worry, I'll be right there with you. We'll ease you into it. Plus, my folks are going to be so excited to meet you they're gonna forget about the game, at least for a minute."

The mention of his family makes your stomach flip. This is a big step, meeting his family, even if you've both been keeping things casual. There's a part of you that wonders if this trip is more than just a casual one for Glen.

"What are they like? Your family, I mean," you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Glen's expression softens, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They're great. They'll love you, I promise. My mom might be a little overwhelming at first, but that's just because she cares so much. And my dad, well he's the quiet type, but once you get him talking about anything Texas-related, you won't be able to get him to stop."

You smile at the thought, feeling a bit more at ease. "They sound like a good bunch."

"They are," Glen says, his voice sincere. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

His words bring warmth to your chest, and you squeeze his hand in return. "I hope so."

As the two of you continue to drive further into Austin, Glen gives you a mini tour. He points out a few landmarks - his favorite taco place, the park where he used to hang out with friends, and a music venue where he once saw an incredible show. You listen, soaking in every detail, feeling a sense of connection to this place that Glen clearly loves so much.

"Here we are," Glen says as he pulls into a parking spot near the stadium. The massive structure looms ahead, a sea of burnt orange and white, alive with energy even from a distance.

You take a deep breath, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside you. "This is it, huh?"

"This is it," Glen confirms, turning to you with a smile that melts away any lingering doubts. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, smiling back at him.

As you step out of Glen's truck, you notice that nearly everyone around you is decked out in burnt orange and white. Texas Longhorns hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, all show their pride. The sea of matching colors makes you acutely aware that you're the only one not wearing any team gear.

Glen steps around the truck to join you, noticing the way your eyes scan the crowd. He gives you a playful nudge with his elbow. "Feeling a little out of place?"

You laugh, shrugging slightly. "Just a bit. I think I missed the memo on the dress code."

Without missing a beat, Glen reaches up to the back of his head and pulls off the white Longhorns cap he's been wearing. He turns it around in his hands before stepping closer to you. "Here, you can wear this. Can't have you being the odd one out."

Before you can respond, he's already placing the cap on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts the fit, making sure it sits just right. You tilt your head up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen takes a step back to admire his work, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look great in Orange. Might even say you wear it better than I do."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "You might be biased."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I'm also right."

As you walk towards the section of the parking lot reserved for tailgating, Glen drapes an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. "Tell you what, we'll hit up the merch stand once we're inside. Gotta get you a t-shirt to complete the look."

"You don't have to do that," you start to protest, but Glen shakes his head.

"I want to," he insists, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Consider it part of the full Texas football experience."

You smile up at him, feeling more at ease with every step. "Alright, but only if you help me pick it out."

"Deal," Glen says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before leading you into the sea of orange and white.

The aroma of sizzling barbecue fills the air as you and Glen approach the tailgating area. Rows of trucks and RVs are lined up in the parking lot, each decked out in burnt orange. Flags bearing the Texas Longhorns logo flutter in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles create a festive atmosphere.

Glen leads you through the crowd with a confident stride, his hand securely holding yours. As you near a large, lively group gathered around a grill, Glen spots his family and friends.

"There they are," he says, nodding towards the group. "Ready to meet everyone?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Glen gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the group. His mom, Cyndy, is the first to spot the two of you, and her face lights up with a welcoming smile. She's a petite woman with a warm demeanor, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you over.

"There you are!" Cyndy calls out, pulling Glen into a quick hug before turning her attention to you. "And you must be the one we've been hearing so much about. I'm Cyndy, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

You return her smile, instantly feeling at ease with her friendly nature. "It's great to meet you too. Glen's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Cyndy says with a wink before pulling you into a hug. "Welcome, sweetheart."

Next, Glen's dad, Glen Sr., steps forward with a firm handshake and a nod. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet strength about him. "Good to have you here," he says simply, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable.

Then, Glen's sisters Lauren and Leslie, each take their turn to greet you. Lauren gives you a friendly smile. "You're braver than I would be, meeting the whole crew at once like this. They can be a handful, but you'll be fine."

Leslie nudges Glen playfully. "You didn't warn her about us, did you?"

Glen laughs, shaking his head. "I figured I'd let you all speak for yourselves."

As you exchange pleasantries, more of Glen's friends and extended family members join in, introducing themselves and welcoming you with open arms. Someone hands you a cold drink, and before you know it, you're standing around a grill piled high with burgers, sausages, and all the fixings, soaking in the pre-game atmosphere.

The conversation quickly turns to stories about Glen's past. A few of his college buddies, each with a beer in hand, are eager to share some of their favorite memories.

"Remember that time Glen tried to impress a girl by riding a mechanical bull at that honky-tonk?" One of them starts, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, I remember!" Another chimes in. "He was so confident, strutted right up there like he was gonna show everyone how it's done. Lasted about five seconds before he got thrown off and landed flat on his back."

The group erupts in laughter, and even Glen can't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says shaking his head. "At least I gave it a shot."

Cyndy leans in closer to you, a glint in her eye. "That's nothing compared to the time he and his sister decided to 'borrow' my car when they were kids. Thought they'd take a little joyride around the neighborhood...until they crashed it into a mailbox."

"Oh no!" You gasp, unable to suppress a laugh.

Lauren grins, shaking her head at the memory. "We were grounded for months. Glen thought he was so slick, but he didn't realize the mailbox he hit belonged to one of Dad's friends."

"Yep," Glen Sr adds with a rare smile, "and that's how they learned not to mess with my car."

The easy banter and lighthearted stories quickly dissolve any lingering nerves you have. Glen's family and friends are down-to-earth, welcoming you into their inner circle as if you've always been a part of it. The more they share, the more you see the depth of their bond and the way they care for each other.

As you take another bite of your burger, you look over at Glen, who's been watching you with a soft smile. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear.

You nod, feeling completely at ease now. "Yeah, I'm doing great. Your family's wonderful."

His smile widens as he places a hand gently on your back. "I'm glad you think so. They're a little crazy, but they're mine."

"And now I guess I'm part of them too," you say with a playful grin.

Glen's eyes light up at your words, and he leans in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Just then, one of Glen's friends raises his drink and shouts "Hook 'em, Horns!" The entire group responds in unison, raising their hands in the iconic "Hook 'em Horns" gesture, with pinkies and index figures extended with the thumb tucked grasping the second and third fingers.

You try to mimic the gesture, but you don't quite cooperate. Glen catches your struggle and chuckles softly. "Here, let me help," he says, gently taking your hand in his.

With his warm fingers guiding yours, Glen carefully adjusts your hand, making sure your pinky and index fingers are extended and your thumb tucks the other fingers. His touch is gentle and precise, and you can't help but feel a little flutter in your chest as he concentrates on getting it just right.

"How's that?" you ask, looking up at him with a smile.

He gives your hand a final tweak before stepping back to admire his work. "Perfect," he says, his voice soft and affectionate. "Now you're officially part of the team."

You laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Guess I really am one of you now."

The group continues to laugh and share stories as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The pre-game atmosphere, filled with the sounds of sizzling food, clinking bottles, and cheerful banter, is everything you imagined - and more. With Glen's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders and the "Hook 'em Horns" gesture nailed down, you feel a sense of belonging that surprises you in the best possible way.

As the tailgate winds down and the anticipation for the game grows, Glen wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the throng of excited fans heading towards the stadium. The air is filled with the sounds of chanting, music, and the collective buzz of thousands of supporters, all eager for the big game.

"Ready for the full game day experience?" Glen asks, glancing over at you with a grin.

You nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Definitely. Lead the way."

As you approach the entrance, Glen veers off towards a merchandise stand just inside the gate, keeping his promise to get you your very own Texas Longhorns shirt. The stand is awash with burnt orange and white, offering everything from t-shirts to hoodies, foam fingers, and even Longhorns-themed sunglasses.

"Okay, let's find you something," Glen says, scanning the racks of shirts. He picks out a simple, yet classic burnt orange t-shirt with the Texas Longhorns logo emblazoned across the front. Holding it up to you, he grins "How about this one?"

You take the shirt from him, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "It's perfect," you say, already imagining yourself fitting right in with the sea of orange in the stadium.

Glen pays for the shirt and then hands it back to you. "Go ahead and try it on. Let's see how it looks."

You pull the t-shirt over your white tank top, the bright orange contrasting perfectly with your outfit. As you smooth the fabric down, Glen steps back to admire the look.

"Hold on," he says, reaching for the white Texas Longhorns baseball cap he had been wearing earlier. With a playful grin, he gently places it back on your head, adjusting the brim so it sits just right. His fingers linger for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen's gaze softens as he takes you in, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look great," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I think orange might be your color."

You laugh softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Guess I'm officially part of the team now."

"Absolutely," Glen replies, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against your forehead. "Now, let's get to our seats."

With his arm comfortably draped around your shoulders, Glen guides you through the bustling concourse and up towards the exclusive box seats he reserved for you, his family, and close friends. As you walk, you can't help but notice a few heads turning, whispers following in your wake. It's clear that Glen's presence isn't going unnoticed.

But Glen seems unfazed by the attention, focused entirely on making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "Don't worry," he says, sensing your unease as you pass by a group of fans who seem to be debating whether or not to approach. "The suite will give us a bit of privacy. It's just us and the people we want to be with."

You give him a grateful smile, relieved at the thought of a more private space. "That sounds perfect."

When you reach the suite, a staff member opens the door, revealing a spacious, comfortable area with large windows offering an unobstructed view of the field. The room is decked out with cozy seating, a fully stocked fridge, and even a table spread with game day snacks.

Glen's family is already there, mingling and settling in, and they greet you warmly as you enter. You quickly realize that this box isn't just a place to watch the game - it's a space where you can relax, enjoy the company, and soak in the experience without any interruptions.

Glen guides you to a seat near the window, right next to him. As you take in the view of the field below, and the energy of the crowd that's starting to pile into the stadium, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up.

"So, what do you think?" Glen asks, settling in beside you, his hand casually resting on your knee.

You turn to him, your smile reflecting the excitement you feel. "It's incredible."

Glen grins, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you're here," he says giving your knee a gentle squeeze. "Now, get ready for some real Texas football."

Suddenly, the lights dim, and the giant screen at the far end of the stadium flickers to life. The Texas Longhorns logo appears, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You glance over at Glen, who is grinning ear to ear, clearly caught up in the excitement.

"Here they come," he says, nodding towards the tunnel at the edge of the field.

The sound of drums fills the air as the Texas Longhorns marching band begins playing. The brass instruments gleam under the stadium lights and the rhythm of the drums pulses through the stands, making your heart beat a little faster.

As the band starts playing the school fight song, the crowd rises to their feet, the familiar tune echoing throughout the stadium. Glen stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. The sight is breathtaking - the sea of burnt orange, the flags waving proudly, and the booming voices of thousands of fans all joining together in the song.

Glen leans in close, his voice just above a whisper in your ear. "You've got to sing along, it's tradition."

You smile nervously, not sure what the words are, but Glen's enthusiasm is contagious. As the band reaches the chorus, Glen starts singing, his voice blending with the roar of the crowd. "Texas Fight! Texas Fight! And it's goodbye to A&M..."

You start to hum along to the words, your soft voice, almost drowned out by the thousands of others. But Glen's infection energy pulls you in. His eyes spark with excitement. "Louder!" he urges, his grin widening.

You laugh, feeling the last of your hesitation melt away as you throw yourself into the chant, clapping along with the beat and shouting the words with enthusiasm. Glen's pride is evident, and he can't hide his delight at seeing you get into the spirit of the game.

As the team bursts onto the field, the stadium erupts into a thunderous roar. The players, clad in their iconic burnt orange and white uniforms, charge out of the tunnel, the sight of them stirring a fresh wave of excitement into the crowd. The band crescendos into the final notes of the fight song, and the noise level reaches a fever pitch.

Glen wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the team lines up on the field. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You look up at him, your heart racing with the excitement of the moment. "It's amazing," you reply, your smile wide and genuine. "I can see why you love this so much."

As the players take their positions on the field, the atmosphere in the stadium becomes electric. The roar of the crowd swells, and you can feel the anticipation vibrating through the stands. You're fully immersed in the excitement, your earlier nerves replaced with growing enthusiasm as Glen points out different players and explains the significance of the game.

Just as you start to relax, the opening kickoff is moments away. You're leaning forward in your seat, eyes glued to the field when suddenly - BOOM!

The deafening sound of Smokey the Cannon firing catches you completely off guard. You jump in your seat, your heart racing as the shock of the blast reverberates through your chest.

Glen, noticing your startled reaction, can't help but chuckle. "Sorry, I should've warned you about that," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. His laugh is warm and affectionate, and he pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That's Smokey the Cannon. It fires off at every kickoff. Just part of the tradition."

You lean into his embrace, your initial fright quickly fading as you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. "I think I just aged a few years," you say with a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. "I wasn't expecting that at all."

Glen's grip tightens slightly, his way of reassuring you. "It's loud, but you'll get used to it," he says, his voice gentle and comforting in your ear. "Trust me, by the end of the game, you'll be waiting for it."

You turn your head to catch his eye, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "I'll take your word for it," you reply, your nerves settling as you take comfort in his closeness.

The game kicks off, and the action on the field immediately draws you back in. As the players clash, the crowd erupts into cheers and groans, their energy contagious. Glen keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself getting more and more caught up in the excitement of it all.

Throughout the game, Glen is right there, guiding you through the experience. He explains the rules as plays unfold, pointing out the strategy behind each move. "See how the quarterback is scanning the field?" he says at one point. "He's looking for an open receiver, someone who can catch the ball and make a run for it."

You nod, trying to absorb the information. "It's a lot more complicated than I thought," you admit, appreciating his patience.

Glen grins, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "That's what makes it fun," he says. "Once you start to understand the strategy, it's like watching a chess match...only with a lot more action."

As the game progresses, you find yourself cheering along with the crowd, your earlier nerves completely forgotten. Glen's explanations help you feel more connected to the game, and his excitement is infectious. Each time something exciting happens on the field - a touchdown, a particularly good tackle - he turns to you with a grin, eager to share the moment.

"Did you see that?" he asks after a particularly impressive play, his eyes alight with excitement. "That's what they call a 'Hail Mary' - a long pass to try and score a touchdown when time's running out."

You nod, caught up in the moment. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," you say, feeling a sense of pride as you follow the flow of the game.

Glen leans in, his voice low and full of affection. "You're doing great," he says, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. "Me too," you reply, feeling more at home in the stadium with each passing moment.

As the game continues, the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm - Glen explaining plays, you cheering along with the crowd, and both of you enjoying the shared experience. It's a day filled with excitement, but also with moments of quiet connection, each one deepening the bond between you.

And by the time Smokey the Cannon fires off again, you barely flinch - too caught up in the thrill of the game and the warmth of Glen's presence beside you.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts in a sea of burnt orange and white. Texas has won, and the energy in the air is electric. Fans are cheering, hugging, and celebrating as the Longhorns players wave to the crowd before making their way off the field. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement, clapping along as the band strikes up the fight song one last time.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Glen helps you gather your things, and the two of you make your way out of the suite. The halls of the stadium are still buzzing with excitement, fans streaming toward the exits, chatting excitedly about the game. You notice a few people casting glances your way - recognition flickering in their eyes as they realize who Glen is.

You feel a flutter of nervousness in your chest as the looks become more frequent. The idea of being recognized, of suddenly being in the spotlight, is overwhelming. But before the anxiety can take hold, Glen reaches for your hand. His grip is firm, and reassuring, and he gives you a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I'm right here."

His words and his touch soothe you, and you take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in yours rather than the curious glances around you. Together, you navigate through the crowd, Glen's presence beside you acting as an anchor, keeping you steady.

As you step out into the cool evening air, the noise of the stadium fades behind you, replaced by the more distant sounds of fans celebrating in the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out, and the atmosphere feels less intense, allowing you to finally relax.

Glen leads you to his truck, and as you approach it, he glances over at you, his expression softening. "So...your first Texas game," he says as he opens the passenger door for you. "What did you think? Did it live up to the hype?"

Your smile, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat. "It really did," you reply, your tone reflecting the surprise in your voice. "I didn't think I'd get so caught up in it, but I did. The energy, the crowd, the way everyone was so passionate...it was contagious."

Glen closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat beside you. He doesn't start the truck right away, instead turning slightly to face you, his gaze soft and warm.

"I'm really glad you came," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot to me to share this with you."

You feel your heart swell at his words, and you take a moment to let them sink in. "I'm glad I came too," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "It's not something I ever imagined myself doing, but I'm really happy I did."

Glen reaches out and takes your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours. "You were a great sport about everything," he says, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Even when Smokey scared the life out of you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "I'll admit, that was a bit much," you say with a grin. "But honestly, the whole experience was incredible. I see now why it's such a big deal for you."

Glen's smile widens, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, meaningful silence. The excitement of the day is still buzzing in your veins, but there's also a deeper feeling - a sense of connection, of understanding, that goes beyond just the game.

"I'm really happy you're here with me," Glen says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion. "This...it all means a lot more with you by my side."

His words hit you in a way you didn't expect, and you realize just how much this day, and this man, have come to mean to you. You squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the game or the crowd, but everything to do with him.

"I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice just as soft. "With you."

For a moment, the world outside the truck seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the parking lot. It's a moment of quiet reflection, of mutual appreciation, and as you sit there, you realize that this experience has brought you closer to Glen in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Glen starts the engine, but before he shifts into gear, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your lips. It's soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken emotion, a perfect ending to a day you'll never forget.

As he pulls away, you both smile at each other, the bond between you stronger than ever. As the truck rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, you feel a sense of contentment, knowing that this is just the beginning of something truly special.

The next morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, absently twisting the brim of Glen's baseball cap between your fingers. The events of the previous day play on a loop in your mind - Glen's infectious enthusiasm, the electrifying atmosphere of the game, and the way he held your hand, guiding you through it all. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the look in his eyes when he told you how much it meant to him to have you there.

But now, in the quiet of your room, the excitement of the game has given way to do something deeper - an unmistakable warmth in your chest, a feeling that's both exhilarating and a little terrifying. You realize that what started as casual dating has slowly grown into something more. And for the first time, you feel the need to talk to someone about it.

You take a deep breath and scroll through your contacts, landing on your mom's number. The familiar sound of the ringtone fills the room as you hold the phone to your ear, your heart beating a little faster with each passing second. Finally, you hear her voice on the other end, warm and welcoming as always.

"Hi, sweetie! How are you?" Your mom greets you, the sound of her voice instantly soothing some of your nerves.

"Hey, Mom," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm good. Just...thinking about a lot of things."

Your mom chuckles softly. "Well, it sounds like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts before you begin. "I met somebody, and...he's really great, Mom. he's got these green eyes that I could just get lost in, and he's so sweet. He opens doors for me, he makes me laugh, and he...he doesn't make me cry." Your voice softens as you say the last part, a small admission of how different this feels from anything you've experienced before.

There's a brief silence on the other end, and then your mom speaks, her voice gentle. "He sounds wonderful, honey. Tell me more about him."

A smile spreads across your face as you think about Glen. "He's from Texas, not exactly where we're from, but...when I'm with him, he feels like home. He's got me doing things I never thought I'd do, like going to a football game." You laugh, still a little surprised at how much you enjoyed the experience.

Your mom laughs too, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. "A football game? You? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, right?" you reply, shaking your head at the memory. "He even gave me his hat to wear because I didn't have any Texas gear. And, Mom...I liked it. I really liked it."

There's a pause, and you can almost hear your mom's smile through the phone. "It sounds like you're really falling for this guy."

You bite your lip, the truth of her words sinking in. "I think I am," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Mama...I like him a lot. I even learned the words to the Texas Fight Song."

Your mom's laughter rings through the phone, full of warmth and understanding. "It sounds like he's got you wrapped around his finger," she teases, but there's no judgment in her voice, only happiness for you.

"Maybe he does," you say, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "But...it feels right, Mom. He feels right."

Your mom's voice softens, a hint of emotion creeping in. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Just take things one step at a time, and follow your heart."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

As you end the call, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Talking to your mom has helped you put things into perspective, and you realize that you're ready to see where things go with Glen, no matter where that may lead. The thought of him brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at what the future might hold.

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

Everything we know about Project Apple (and, by extension, Anya's past) thus far

thought i'd compile all of that now while endo's on break Just In Case the next chapter happens to start anya's backstory (i don't Think it will but endo likes surprising us LSDFKLFS)

important disclaimer that project apple and the organization in charge of anya's experiments have not been confirmed to be related! there's evidence that they have things in common, in particular employees, but that's our only real connection between the two thus far. still! worth looking into

more under the cut!

so, starting very strongly with the very first mention of anything related to the project: anya's introduction in chapter 1

despite her being a main character, we know very little about her past at the moment, and this little blurb at the beginning makes up a very big portion of what we know.

things to note here:

as an experiment, her name was "Test Subject 007". important to note that the notation differs between her and bond: she was Test Subject 007, bond was Subject 8, no zeroes in there;

she had been made thus by accident, the phrasing itself implying quite heavily that she was just a normal child before said accident (but this is the translation! i don't know japanese so i can't cross-reference with the raws to clarify if the phrasing changes anything, but the fanbook uses the word "gained" to describe her powers too);

because her mind-reading is an unintended consequence, that means the scientists were presumably not, at least initially, trying to achieve cognitive enhancements in humans, and were instead trying to achieve something else, whatever that might've been;

she escaped from the facility and then moved from institution to institution, looking for a family.

so, crucially, through this little introduction we learn that there is an organization, government-funded or otherwise, that is or was conducting human experiments for unknown purposes. we also learn that whatever family anya had prior to being involved in the experiments is more than likely unreachable, at least as far as she knows, and so she has settled for finding a new family to take care of her instead.

in terms of the facility itself, here we see they clearly drilled it into her that she can't ever reveal her secret (and the darn plush is there too -- in the anime it's even more emphasized, as you can see in the gif i made)

through her reminiscing though, we get our very first look at the scientists that were in charge of her! they're in the gif above but here they are in the manga too. it's so interesting that the anime actually shows their eyes behind the glasses though, fascinating choice.

the insistence on world peace is important, as it explains her own personal obsession with it and shows that it's not just because of twilight's own focus on preserving the peace. i also don't think twilight ever really talks about "world peace," only about "preserving the current peace between westalis and ostania" -- anya seems to be the only one talking about WORLD peace (even in the very first scene where either of them mention it in proximity to each other in ch 1, loid says "understanding the other party is the first step towards peace" and anya's interpretation is "understanding me makes world peace?") but take this with a grain of salt because i might be wrong! going through every single mention of peace in the story just to fact check this one little trivia fact is a bit much i think so i'm not doing it JSDFKLSD

but yes

remember mr hair strand and baldy, we'll see them again. not her though, ig she wasn't in charge of bond

now, fast-forwarding to chapter 19, we finally get a name and a premise for the experiments:

"but oana," you might say, "this is talking about animals only! how do we know it's the same project as anya's, which involved human experimentation?"

i don't think it is, is the thing! i think it's related to the experiments anya was a part of, which is evidenced by the same scientists being featured in project apple too, but there's more going on that we don't know about. there wouldn't be such adamancy on keeping the two separate in every official mention of them if they were just the same thing, imo!

back to the evidence, we learn that the project, conducted and funded by the previous ostanian regime (meaning donovan's related to it one way or another, since he was prime minister), was marked by franticness and desperation -- a prime place for accidents like anya's telepathy and bond's future vision.

we also learn that the project was sacked by the new administration and that the former test subjects ended up on the black market.

(this makes it very important, imo, to learn when anya escaped the facility vs. when the project was sacked. it's clearly no longer in function, but while we've heard nothing from them thus far, i'm willing to bet the shady dealings around the desmond group are NOT related to the war, as W.I.S.E. has been led to believe, but rather to reignite project apple. that is speculation however so i'm going to refrain from theorising much on why the desmond group is focused on acquiring pharmaceutical companies!!)

ok speculation tangent over, back on track

so, that's already a decent amount of info! but moving to chapter 22, when bond is finally home, and we finally see some familiar faces

behold! baldy and mr hair strand!

and 2 other guys we don't know but will see again in another bond flashback!

that's 2 out of the 3 scientists we've seen thus far from anya's own time as subject 007, confirming that there IS a connection between anya and bond's experiments, regardless of whatever the project anya was a part of might've been named.

this is also the chapter in which we learn that bond himself was subject 8 (or, if we take it from the fanbook, subject #8. still, diff notation from anya!)

in chapter 31, we learn an interesting tiny piece of trivia. we don't get any further info on it, but it IS mentioned as something that is known by W.I.S.E.:

ostania is rumoured to have done human experimentation! and W.I.S.E., and by extension loid, are aware of that.

do i know how them knowing may be important later? not really!

the next droplet of info we get is in chapter 40. we see that project apple had collaborators that are still functioning unhindered.

of course, born industries is only rumoured to have been involved with project apple, but regardless of whether or not they actually were, the rumour itself implies that the project likely pulled scientists from various other companies' R&D departments.

(this makes the desmond group's acquisition of glooman pharmaceuticals shadier, but anyway)

as a side note, twilight is emoting so much at just his wrong assumption that bond is seeking revenge against the scientists. imagine how he's going to react when he finds out about anya JKSDFKLFSD

and now aaaaall the way in chapter 58, we see the bald guy who anya also knows, the two scientists from bond's previous flashback, and one whole new guy!

and thus ends our current knowledge of it all!

the only other thing worth discussing is anya's knowledge of classical language

but plenty people have already discussed these scenes, especially recently, so here are some links: 1 | 2 | 3

the only thing i can add is that i'm fairly certain that classical language is a lot more likely to be latin than old english, because it's a very common language to learn in school (in europe at least, and ostania is based on east germany so it makes sense to me. i learned mandatory latin in school for a few good years too, even if i wasn't that good at it lol) and because one of the most common modern usages of latin are in medicine and science, it would make sense that she'd be better at it due to exposure.

a possibility is also that the scientists would think in latin to conceal their thoughts from her, and that's how she ended up learning so much. she's not fluent in latin, she's just well acquainted and that cicumstance would explain the how.

BUT THAT'S SPECULATIONNN

also i don't think "ANIA" is an acronym, nor do i think anya's been misspelling her own name out of lack of knowledge. "ania" is a polish diminutive of anna and an alternate transcription of Аня, so i think it's far more likely that anya isn't ostanian or westalian than it is that her name comes from an acronym.

now,

TL;DR!

what we know about project apple (and the "mysterious organization"):

project apple was funded and conducted by what appears to have been donovan's regime and, from what W.I.S.E. knows, aimed to create highly intelligent animals for military purposes;

W.I.S.E. is aware that ostania is at the very least rumoured to have dabbled in human experimentation;

the project is presumably no longer on-going, though it is likely there are efforts behind the scenes to revive it;

it is rumoured but not confirmed that project apple had collaborating companies that are still functioning perfectly fine;

the same scientists who were in charge of bond were also in charge of anya, signalling that there is a very significant connection between project apple and the "mysterious organization;"

based on what they were telling anya, they were/are very focused on "world peace";

their experimentation methods include but likely aren't limited to electrocution.

and what we (vaguely) know about anya that relates to this:

she is at the youngest, 4 years old, and at the oldest, 5 nearing 6. we don't know her real age, all we know is she definitely lied about being 6;

she is very fixated on specifically world peace while twilight is focused on peace between ostania and westalis. the scientists are the very first we see talking about this, so it's likely their fault;

she is unreasonably well acquainted with classical language;

she has escaped the facility at LEAST 1 year ago;

and, one tidbit from the fanbook (page 29): "Anya has been reading minds for as long as she can remember," implying that her memory of a life before the lab is muddy at best and absent at worst.

that's all we know that i know of!!

if you got this far, thank you for reading :D hope any of this was interesting or sparked any theories >:] have a good day!

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs PT. 5

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel were bitten by the same spider….what could possibly happen?

bro i hit 600 followers three days ago and now i’m at 1,000? wtf thats insane i love u.

NSFW AS ALWAYS 18+

It was months since you saw Miguel.

Well, thats what it felt like. In reality it was just 3 days.

Honesty was never a big deal with you, but when you promised Miguel you’d kill him the next time you saw him: you felt it in every cell to be true. It was delusion kicking into mass hysteria at this point. What was startling though and quite frankly alarming was that Miguel believed you.

You were akin to that of a bloodied and mauled rabid dog when he saw you last, he had never seen your face look so ashen and convincing. Normally, when you were away from him, your cheeks were stained pink as you enertained whoever you were talking to, you were happy. He was taking that away from you and he was beginning to feel slivers of guilt make home in his chest. So he did what he had to.

You were stood looking like an idiot in your apartment, fiddling with your interdimentional watch, slapping it and messing about with it to the point you were sure you were breaking it further. That was until a blaring orange screen showed up: Access Denied. You ogled at the glitchy words like a shell shocked fool, that look soon dissipated into an indignant frown. Miguel…again. Of course.

You threw the object closest to you at the wall, a large gaping crack left in the wall due to sheer force of your poisonous indifference. You sighed heavily as a disgruntled sound fell from your throat. That dick was cutting you off entirely, your needed to get back in the lab, all of the materials you lacked here were there.

You didn’t learn your lesson.

You wanted to see him.

You said you’d kill him if you did and right now you were contemplating it.

But he put his foot down and pushed you out, forcing you away which was counterproductive as it made you want to see him more. You groaned in frustration: what the fuck is wrong with you? It was like you were all for yet going against every intuition and feeling in your body, you wanted one thing and felt another and all it did was leave you bewildered mess in heat.

How could you contact him?

No, you definitely shouldn’t.

You’d just cause more problems relating to this.

But you needed answers.

Fuck.

An embittered look crept on your face as your finger hovered over the button that called Lyla. If you couldn’t contact Miguel…you’d just use Lyla and your incredible convincing skills. You pressed it and she popped up looking happy and over her head as usual.

“If this is about your restriction-“ She sighed, rolling her eyes in the process.

“Well yes. I need to talk to Miguel about it.” You winced, not entirely believing yourself and she just raised an eyebrow at you.

“Hm.” She muttered under her breath. “You’ve definitely talked enough recently.”

“Look. I know Miguel told you he didn’t want to see me at all and I get it, hell, I’m trying to get through it too. But he needs to answer some questions I have a right to know.” You raked a hand over your exhaused face and breathed out heavily as you met her look. “I just need to speak to him, I don’t need to see him. Fuck, I don’t want to see him because I’d kick his teeth in. Maybe just give me his phone number or something?” You cringed internally as you said it. No one was close with Miguel let alone had his phone number, Lyla looked like she saw a ghost.

“Like as in calling him? On the phone? Old fashioned? God, humans are so strange. All this tech and you want to call him on the…phone?” The mention of something so menial such as a phone made Lyla retch back in digust and all you could do is look at her unimpressed at her overreaction. “I mean I guess you aren’t actually near each other…and I love scaring Miguel shitless so…yeah okay.”’ She brightened up at the idea or irritating Miguel, she showed an orange screen of a smattering of numbers. Your face cleared of cloudiness as she showed it on screen. “Be quickkkkk. I’m leaving in 10 seconds.” She giggled. You haphazardly lunged to your desk to find a sticky note to write the numbers on, you almosr fell to the goddamn floor.

“5, 4, 3…” Lyla taunted and you finally grabbed a pen and wrote the numbers down on a note.

“Good. Now go away.” You mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re just like Miguel.” She then disappeared to where she came from. You pondered the words she left ungracefully hanging in the air, the thought made you shiver grotesquely.

You clutched onto the sticky note with those fated numbers on it and you honestly felt like a teenager who finally got her crushes number. Pacing around the room seemed like a great option. Your feet went wild, staring into space then back at the numbers. Okay, okay. Just call him. Give him a piece of your mind. Self soothing didn’t work. Just do it, just call him. This is a healthy way of communicating since you couldn’t just show up and speak to him. Adrenaline and fear pumped your veins raw as you put his number into your phone. You raised your phone to your ear and heard the defeaning and soul eating dial.

-

Miguel was at home for once, just trying to occupy himself in an environment that didn’t have eyes poring all over him and every move he made. He was trying to get some sleep after all the agitation you put him through, but he was failing terribly, again.

It felt like having you was the only thing he was put on this Earth for. His bare chest tightened at the thought. All that was sketched onto in his peripheral was that fucking picture. You looked like a wet dream. Fuck, you were just perfect. Your pussy was begging to be pounded and he couldn’t wait until-

His phone lit up the black of his nightstand.

Miguel opened his eyes as he saw the screen brighten and the blaring of a ringtone he’s long forgotten. He was astonished even though his eyes were seeped in tiredness. This was so odd. He barely ever used his phone, even for hookups, he’d fuck them and then ditch the number. Miguel stared at the white of the screen and the black outside, only lit by a few orange streetlamps that seemed to creep in through his blinds. He groaned as he grabbed his phone and stared at it, it was an unknown number, is this was a cold caller he would rip their head off with his teeth and spit it out into a gutter.

Miguel rubbed his eyes and answered, holding the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He said in a strained, raspy voice- it wasn’t quite obvious that he was trying to sleep.

You felt yourself gush when you heard his voice, your mouth popped open into a gape, you winced but kept a normal voice. “Miguel?”

His eyes glazed open wide as he heard your voice, what the fuck? How did you get his number? Why were you doing this? A wild amount of questions shot through his head but he was confused and didn’t know how to handle it, the majority of him was exhausted and seething. He leaned up and spoke. “Y/N?” He attempted to sound calm but he wasn’t convincing. “How did you find-? Whatever. Don’t call me. Ever. Again.” He gritted through clenched teeth.

“Lyla.” You said in a clipped tone.

Of fucking course.

“Stop using your damn power to fawn over me and restrict me from using the damn watch you gave me.” You were chafed you even had to say this.

Miguel sat on the edge of his bed and plaved his feet on the cold marble, his elbows dug into the skin of his thighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out the signature annoyed huff. “You know exactly why I had to do that.”

You paused and bit your lip, pacing around your room, reminding yourself that you’re barely even clothed right now. Your tank top and sleep shorts barely covered anything and you were still feeling searing hot by his voice alone.

“Stop… Just stop.” It was just above a whimper and Miguel’s ears pricked up the sound. Fuck, your voice was like velvet. “Miguel…we were honest with each other once before. We can do it again.” You breathed against the phone and it was taking everything in him to not moan at the pretty sound. “We shouldn’t be close to each other. I fucking know but…are you shutting me out of the society completely?” Your lip quivered at the mere idea.

Miguel was taken aback. He really didn’t know what to say or do about this now. Being honest or lying didn’t seem to do him any favours at this point. “Don’t ask me that. Please…just don’t.” His voice was so close to breaking but he was dampened by such a pure need for you it was distracting as fucking always.

You both sat in silence, hearing each other’s soft sweet breath on the line. Waiting for the other to break such a tense yet natural thing. Miguel could hear you lick your lips, every shift of that tongue and pretty mouth.

“Do you still want me?” You said flatly, so damn nonchalant like you weren’t even realising what you were talking about.

Miguel was left speechless for a solid 60 seconds. Are you dumb? He wanted just leave and kick your door down, rip all your clothes off and not let you leave for an entire weekend. He would mark every inch of your skin up to show everyone who you belonged to, he wouldn’t be soft at all and you would fucking love it. He’d pump you full of his cum.

“That’s a very stupid question.” He grunted huskily. His talons dug into the sides of his mattress as he said it. You heard the way he was holding back and it made you that much more desperate.

“You told me that it was manageable. How are you managing Miguel?” It was like you were taunting him, waiting for a big fat massive ‘I told you so.’

“I’m finding my own ways of coping.” He stipulated, fingers trembling into the mattress at your words. His dick was rock hard in his boxers at just hearing you breathe against the phone. He felt pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Hm. Like just so happening to know that I take nudes of myself and send them to my fuckbuddies.” You hummed, catching him out with that teasing cock stimulating voice of yours. Miguel swallowed thickly as you called him out.

“It’s 2099 here. Fuckbuddies aren’t taboo, sending nudes isn’t either.” He didn’t directly answer the question, he wrapped it up in a lie that it was normal and he just guessed that you did not that he literally violated your privacy.

“Then why do you not want me to send them anymore.” You whispered on the phone and the sensation of hearing such a honeyed voice made him shudder. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, exasperated but voice calm.

“Because it should be me seeing you like that. Only me.” He avowed in an unexpected admission. Your eyes fluttered shut as you heard it, exactly what he wanted to hear. You paused and your silence scared him.

“Did you like it?” You asked sweetly and he thought he could’ve came right then and there. He could just…slip his hand down and touch himself as you talked. God, he could. He wanted to so bad.

“You have no idea.” He rasped out and you tried to gulp down your arousal, instead it arose out in words.

“Miguel, I get wet just listening to you talk.” You said softly, not even ashamed anymore.

“Whenever you say my name I think my dick wants to snap in half.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this then.” He could feel you smiling lazily, your tone deceptive and teasing. You didn’t want to stop at all.

“Yeah we really shouldn’t.” Miguel teased back, his voice low and inherently dishonest.

“I won’t call you again then.” You smiled sweetly, eyes half lidded and flirty. “Let’s just say that this was… a little moment of weakness between us. We can go back to avoiding each other later.”

“I wonder how we’ll manage.”

“You better get rid of my restriction on my watch too.”

-

yoooo. I’m not gonna be able to post anything in the next week bc I’m on holiday and I probs won’t have wifi. I’m still writing chapters I just dk when I’m gonna be able to post it. I know i edge yall but this specifically isn’t on purpose I swear forgive meeee.

-

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house @defnot-bri @awkward-d3rs3-dramer @hasai69 @unnisumi @irongardenermaker @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @spiderman2099sgf @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a

[konpeitonom]

jimmy headcanons with curly’s niece who is only working with pony express because of her relation with curly… naive and dumb and he doesn’t think she deserves to be working there (sfwandnsfw😬)

jimmy taking advantage of curlys niece.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader - content warnings for legal age gap (18-25 implied reader, jimmy 30s-40s) jimmys character overall. manipulation? don’t like don’t read, block button is right there. minors do not read the nsfw section

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; requester is my friend yayayahahh i hope u like this.. short bc i did not have many ideas. u mentioned in dms he’d have a soft spot for u but idk if i showed that well oopsies. ~ never proofread as always

SFW

— you didn’t deserve your place at all, only got in because your uncle is some high and mighty captain. pony express is cheap, so he’d wonder why they’d add someone completely useless- young adult/older teenager who knows jack shit.

— was bitter about it (as if he didn’t use curly to get his job as well) but stopped when he noticed how cute you were. an idiot who has no idea what she wants to do in life, he needed that.

— i think he started pursuing you at first to kind of piss off curly. maybe not intentionally but like subconsciously, he wanted to hurt curly. and you boarding the tulpar was the perfect moment for that!!

— he’s met you before. him and curly are long-time friends, so probably at some sort of family gathering.. you didn’t catch his eye though, you were a teenager.

— i think he’d grow to have a bit of a soft spot for you, however. i think the others would think it’s simply because he and curly are close, so he has a bias towards curlys niece.

— you’d look up to him. he’s your cool uncles friend! how couldn’t you? and he’s a pilot? that’s cool. so cool. on paper, at least.

— no one would really be mean to you, but if they were, jimmy would get upset at them! it might come off as “he’s just so nice..” to you, but in reality he feels as if he owns you in a sense. you just look up to him so much.

— jimmy thinks it’s cute you’re so dumb and naive. he can mold you to whatever he wants. he has to play smart about it though. he can’t have you running off crying to your uncle, like he’d do anything- but still.

— hes the co-pilot, and while it’s a vital role it’s not like he’s the captain. still though, he’d use that as an excuse to sort of boss you around. like, “that’s not how you’re supposed to do it, are you blind?”

— then right after would say something sweet to keep you coming back. and he likes you, like “yeah, there you go, good job. do it right next time, yeah?” .. he doesn’t speak that way just to anyone, you’re special.

— would touch you subtly.. like light touches on your hips, waist. enough for you to notice but also enough for you to be like, “he’s just friendly” !!

— curly doesn’t notice it, ngl. even if he did he’d just brush it off like, “jimmys always like that with girls, pay no mind too it. but tell me if it gets too much, kid” .. and would still do nothing

— maybe he’d have a ‘talk’ with him? but that’s really it

NSFW

minors do not read

— for your first time, he would be nice about it. seriously. especially if you were a virgin. i mean, in his head he isn’t saying nice things but he’s gotta make you wanna stick around him, no? he’s charming with his words, so allll the shit things he does either flys by your head or are excused with how ‘nice he is sometimes!’

— we see this in the way he interacts with daisuke. he knows exactly what to say. ^_^

— after awhile he’d shame you to hell about it, sorry. doesn’t matter if he initiated it first. you’re still fucking weird for wanting to be with an older guy like him, let alone your uncles friend.

— he’d say shit like, “what if he walked in right now, huh? that’s your uncle.” and would laugh in your face as you clenched around him.

— he fantasizes about doing it in the cockpit, but he knows he can’t because curly can walk in at any time. too big of a risk for him. though maybe that’s the fun of it all.

— he’d do it if you suggested it though haha.. would make you call him captain because he’s weird like that. his jealousy for curly is evident in your relationship!

— “is this what pony express hired you to do?”

— he is a panty stealer. when you fuck there’s a 50% chance you’ll have to run back to your room to get a new pair of underwear because he isn’t giving it back.

— the other 50% is him cumming in your panties and making you wear it. yeah he’s gross, sorry. on your next trip you’ll know to bring double what you usually do.

— sex is all about him, honestly. i mean he knows he has to make it worthwhile so you’ll stay, but besides that his first priority is to please himself.

— contrayer to popular opinion, he likes it when you’re riding him. he feels in control; because at any time he can just grab your hips and fuck you himself.

— likes seeing your face contort and flush, pushing his face away in embarrassment as you make a mess of yourself on his cock.. he lives off that shit

— ok i’m done i hate this man

[safebear]

We know about pussydrunk Wrio, how about cockdrunk reader!! 🙃 Reader and Wrio are in a very stable and loving relationship, and she can't keep her hands off him either (HONESTLY WHO WOULDN'T)

mhm i know i wouldn't be able too 🤤

~warnings: horniness😈, smut, mentions of blowjobs, blowjobs under desk, slight exhibitionism?, riding, a little bit of consensual somnophilia, overstimulation, edging, quickies, shower sex, squirting, men moaning and whimpering, slight sub!wrio, fem!reader, cockdrunk!reader, MDNI!

~ hoo boi this man is in for it. He of course is the type of boyfriend to fulfill all your needs, especially sexually ;) You want him to eat you out right now? He'll tell you to sit on his chair and spread your legs for him. You want his cock? He'll tell you to pull up your skirt and bend over his desk as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants.

~ He is a busy man so it may be difficult for him sometimes to let you have him and his cock and he feels bad about it. It especially doesn't help when you accidentally forget to put on underwear before you leave the house, and you accidentally drop paperwork on the floor and slowly bend down with your ass facing him, giving him a good full view of your bare pussy.

~ When you're being naughty like this and he's extra busy, he punishes you by ignoring you and acting like your tricks aren't fazing him (in reality he's dying on the inside). He'll avoid eye contact when talking with you, only talk about work related things with you and basically just try to avoid you all together. This ends in two ways. Either you end up waiting patiently until he's less busy and finally gives you want you want or you find a way to corner him in one of the many dark corners of the fortress and he gives in and you two have a quickie.

~ You two usually fuck in his office, but you two have secretly done it in other places of the fortress because you just couldn't wait to have his cock. You both prefer his office though because it's more privacy and you can be more vocal.

~ Fuck. He can't say no to you when you're begging and pleading for his cock as you rub him through his pants, giving him your best doe eyes, and promising him "just one little taste". It ain't just one taste.. Or when you innocently ask him to sit in his lap but end up grinding against his thigh or crotch, begging him to pull his cock out. Or when you get on all fours, bare, face into the sheets, ass up in the air, wiggling your ass, begging him to fuck you into the mattress.

~ You love sucking his cock the most. The view of him trying to keep his eyes on you, but ultimately ends up closing his eyes with his head falling back, his hand intertwined in your hair, thighs shaking, and moans and whimpers leave his mouth as he comes in your mouth for the nth time. His cheeks are flushed, eyes dazed and slightly watery, drool slightly spilling out the corner of his mouth, panting heavily as he comes down from his high. You wouldn't mind taking a picture of that to keep for later..

~ Blowjobs under his desk often when he's working on boring paperwork. Makes it more interesting. Damn, just imagine you make it into a reward game. Every time he finishes a file, you let him cum. But if he slacks off and gets distracted, you edge him and don't let him cum. Let's just say he gets his paperwork done faster this way..

~ People have walked in his office while you were sucking him off under his desk. They couldn't see what was happening under his desk so they didn't know. He's usually able to keep a straight face, unless you turn it up a notch and do his favorite thing where you suckle a bit harshly on the head of his cock and fondle his balls at the same time. Makes him weak in the knees and almost come immediately. He's literally pushing on your head, silently pleading for you to tone it down or he's gonna cum while a subordinate is in his office. Once the worker finally leaves, he leans back, letting you continue and finally letting go and cumming deep down your throat.

~ You overstimulate him often which he doesn't mind. Helps take his mind off of things especially when he's stressed. He has a lot of stamina so he's able to keep up with your insatiable lust. He can't help that he gets sensitive sometimes though..

~ When you heard him whine for the first time after being overstimulated for the 3rd time, it was music to your ears. You had to hear it again. He doesn't get embarrassed easily, but he was a bit embarrassed at first. He soon got over it because the pleasure just felt too good. Sometimes, you don't let him cum until he whimpers for you. He doesn't whimper unless the pleasure is too much or you edge him for too long. Making him beg for you to ride his cock until he can't cum anymore.

~ Although he may be busy, when he finally has the free time, he gives himself fully to you which you take advantage of. He doesn't even have to do much sometimes. You usually enjoy riding him, both cowgirl and reverse cowgirl (which he likes a lot). Sometimes it's worth the wait, because when you pounce on him and he's able to finally fuck you, you squirt the most and multiple times. The view of you under him, moaning and whining from how good his cock feels as he pounds you into the mattress, makes him fall over the edge quickly.

~ You wake him up to blowjobs often (with consent of course!). It starts his day off right and puts him in a good mood for work. Most of the time, he ends up returning the favor and giving you a good fucking before work, which usually ends in you two being a bit late for work.

~ Shower sex. You love washing him. His back, his chest, his thighs, and most importantly, his cock. Of course the washing is too good so he ends up cumming either on you, himself, or the shower floor. It's ok. Just gotta clean it again, but this time with your mouth so as to not make a mess again.

~a/n: this ask made me feral..

[tink27]

Steddie ficlet (might do a follow up to show Eddie's reaction)

"He likes a boy"

after years of friendship, and being joined at the proverbial hip, Robin liked to think she could read Steve pretty well, however, his love of being just vague enough to confuse her made this difficult.

"who likes a what now?" still trying to get a read on Steve's feelings, but as of right now he just seemed, disconnected. Since showing up unexpectedly at her house, he had maintained that far-away sort of look that showed that even Steve didn't know what he was feeling.

"Eddie... he... we were hanging out and he" finally he fully met Robin's gaze, and the heartbroken edge to his vacant stare became evident "he was implying, heavily, that he likes me"

"... likes likes you?"

Steve's expression briefly switched to mocking disbelief at her childish choice of words, but he didn't have the energy for any kind of clever retort

"Yes Robin! like likes me!" throwing up his hands before allowing them to smack down against their Jeans ("their" because they fit them both and had been making the rotation between both Steve and Robin's wardrobe for months, she wasn't entirely sure who they belonged to to begin with, not that it mattered)

"And you're... upset?" This was baffling because in the months since Eddie returned for the upside-down, the two had never been closer. Far too many shifts consisted of Steve waxing poetic about Eddie while Robin vaguely tried to relate and be supportive. Although why Steve seemed so utterly smitten as he talked about Eddie's hair or musical elitism would never really make sense to Robin. But still, she saw how they were together.

Steve had a bad track record for love, pouring every part of himself into another person in a way that was truly heartbreaking to watch. However, it became significantly less heartbreaking when it was accompanied by Eddie's eyes following Steve around every room, and always looking to him in conversations no matter who was there because it was Steve's opinion and thoughts that mattered to him most. They truly were obsessed with each other, and honestly, Robin had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So Steve's stricken expression made no sense, nor did his frustration that Robin - despite being his platonic soulmate - didn't magically understand the issue he was having.

"I dont know Robs, its just he likes... Steve Harrington" his voice was defeated as he said it, but it still explained nothing

"....you're Steve Harrington" The confusion in her voice was evident "Am I missing something here, this isn't a 'King Steve' thing is it, because Eddie has made it pretty clear that he thought you were a jerk back then"

the noise of frustration from Steve showed she clearly had missed the point and never had she wished so badly to read her best friend's mind as when the tears began to well up in his eyes. She wanted to hug him, but knew from experience that Steve needed to get the thoughts out first.

There was a minute of silence that Robin had to try desperately to not break, every instinct wanting to spit out an awkward and unhelpful comment to lighten the mood, but she knew she just had to wait.

"I'm not..." the words seemed to get lodged in his throat, even those two words came out scratchy and uncomfortable

He squeezed his eyes shut "I'm not a boy"

Steve opened their eyes, with a desperate expression "I'm not a boy"

It was a statement but also a plea. Begging for Robin to know exactly what to say. She didnt.

"you're not a boy." Robin made sure to sound confident, at least she could pretend to know what she was doing. It seemed okay because they gave an awkward nod, head moving slightly too much for it to seem natural

"you're.... a girl?"

the tears seemed to spill the second she said it, and a choked noise lodged itself in their (her?) throat, but after a moment of panicked pause their eyes screwed shut and they nodded but also shrugged. Clearly just as confused by their discomfort as Robin is.

"Okay, thats okay Ste-" shit, stupid "that's okay babe, you're still you, and hey I might be... severely romantically challenged but even I know Eddie is obsessed with you"

there's a brief watery smile before the corners of her lips are pulled down "He likes Steve, he wouldn't like me"

"Horse shit" Robin wasn't as confident as she was trying to sound, but she knew that her best friend was still her best friend and that anyone who didn't adore her was an idiot (as all best friends know)

she moved to sit next to her friend who had ended up on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, and once again the silence was allowed to stretch out before them, only broken up by heartbroken sniffles and shakey breaths

"so..." Robin wished more than any other moment that she wasn't so awkward "Not Steve?"

"I-" the thought gets broken off " It doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like it's me"

"whats you?" two words encapsulating a question that was near impossible to answer, but it still felt right to ask, to show that Robin wanted to know the answer.

the expression on her face showed that her friend also thought the question unanswerable, and a frustrated shrug fell from her

Robin hated that defeated expression, so she tried "Michelle?"

Clearly, the scrunched-up expression implied it wasn't a fit

"Hannah?" no not that

"Sarah?" seemed less disgusted but still no

"Becky?" okay back to disgust, moving on

"OH! Punch me if this sucks, but... Stevie?" Robin felt the need to justify her choice, showing that she wasn't just trying to make her keep her old name "Like Stevie Nicks! I could see that, dye your hair blonde, get some bangs"

the comment about changing her hair was obviously met with a scowl, but after a soft smile found its way onto her face "Stevie feels better"

Robin had never felt so smart, she was a fucking genius "Stevie is it babe"

Stevie spent moments looking at her, seemingly deep in thought before softly speaking "Thank you Robin"

it seemed too formal for them, to say it so directly with her name like that, but she could tell that Stevie was really grateful so Robin held back the tears (one of them had to be the butch one in this relationship)

"no problem babe" it was spoken just as softly as the thanks, and for now it seemed enough

"Now, tell me what happened with Eddie"

[imadhatt3r]

There's a sort of small personal story arc happening in Koujaku's route that I haven't seen talked about much, and it is one relating to Aoba's struggles with his masculinity and his perception as a man by others.

This story arc heavily deals with cultural gender norms and expectations, and so I will be working with them; This doesn't reflect my personal view on gender roles and expectations in real life. This is also not for or against any headcanons regarding any character's gender- I have no opinions on them or problems with people seeing any character as trans.

Okay, without further ado:

The moment where Koujaku and Aoba canonically meet for the first time happens during their childhood. Aoba was bullied by other children for his long hair and for "looking like a girl". Koujaku stepped in to protect him, thinking that Aoba's a girl, and was allegedly suprised when Aoba turned out to be a boy, but his attitude towards Aoba never changed.

This event clearly had a big influence on Aoba, on how he views himself, Koujaku, and how he thinks Koujaku views him. When we first meet Koujaku in-game, he is seen defending himself from a woman's overly protective boyfriend and being a charmer to her in turn when she apologizes for his behavior. It's established that Koujaku has a lot of female admirers, and a bit later it's revealed that he attracts a lot of men too, but moreso as a kind of role model/aspirational figure- that's why benishigure exists in the first place.

Aoba is shown to be annoyed or downright kinda scared of Koujaku's fans; Of course, it makes sense- Aoba is shown to be a private person that dislikes attention, but I believe that there is a second layer to all that- jealousy.

Aoba identifies as a man in-game and asserts it multiple times. He is aware of his gender. Koujaku is shown to be both flirty and chivalrous towards women around him- he spends time with them, initiates physical contact, compliments them etc. Aoba is always annoyed whenever he sees Koujaku doing that, but his reasons aren't fully clear- it seems like he feels like Koujaku's behavior is, in some way, fake, or that he just dislikes PDA in general. Aoba isn't jealous of the female attention Koujaku gets- he doesn't want to be in his place, because, as we established, he doesn't like being the center of attention. This isn't a dick measuring contest with Aoba being salty that he's coming up short.

Aoba is jealous of the women. He's the one who wants Koujaku to flirt with him, touch him, be chivalrous to him, protect him, but he believes that it will never happen, because Koujaku only acts this way towards women. Men want to be him, women want to be with him, but Aoba is neither; He's not a man who wants to be him, nor is he a woman who wants to be with him- there's not a place he can comfortably occupy, in his mind.

Mind you, I don't believe that he is aware of his feelings- hence his clusterfuck of an attempt to make Koujaku's flirting with women a bad thing. It's not coherent, it doesn't really make any internal sense, because Aoba has no idea he's even trying to lead himself away from something.

In the good ending, Koujaku briefly mentions that he thinks Aoba sleeps in so much because he wants to get his attention, and I can 100% see it as being true- Aoba doesn't know how to get Koujaku to treat him like he does women around him, so he chooses more covert ways to get that desired attention and care.

I also see Aoba's haircut to be symbolic/meaningful of his relation to his masculinity being percieved by others. Aoba's hair was the reason why he and Koujaku met as kids and established their friendship and later relationship. When they were cut, Aoba started to look more conventionally "masculine", and yet the haircut is also, in a way, representative of the beginning of his and Koujaku's relationship. It's because Koujaku doesn't care that Aoba is a man- hell, in the CD drama, he even admits that he's straight up attracted to Aoba's masculinity. If Koujaku liked Aoba BECAUSE he saw him as female-like, wouldn't he want to keep his hair long/feminine?

This is kinda explored in various extra material like the summer side story and valentine's day story- Aoba seems to believe that while Koujaku is with him out of love/attraction, he's being treated more as a novelty, a "girl-boy" that's going to be replaced by an "actual woman" one day. He's afraid that the chocolates he made for Koujaku for valentine's day will be seen as "gross", and he expects to see a mountain of chocolate given to Koujaku by women when he comes to his apartment. In the summer story, he expects Koujaku to deny their relationship when they're being harassed by drunk benishigure, and that he will be left behind when Koujaku is approached by female admirers. This never happens- Koujaku actually reassures Aoba that he's never going anywhere, and that Aoba has nothing to worry about. This is framed as Aoba being simply jealous, but I think that there is enough evidence to imply that his gender has a lot to do with it. We don’t know how would he react if Koujaku was approached by a man, but it's mentioned multiple times that it's seeing and thinking of Koujaku being surrounded by women gets Aoba down especially hard.

I feel like it's also important to look into the bad ending for Koujaku's route too, because if you look at it through that lense, you can see some interesting stuff. First and foremost, Shiroba is dressed in a sexualized version of the miko garb (miko are shinto shrine maidens, and they are exclusively women) that includes stockings, and his hair is just as long, if not longer, than Aoba's. He also has red tassels in his hair, right behind his ears, which sort of look like earrings. In short, it would almost appear like Shiroba is trying to look more "feminine" in order to appeal more to the way he percieved Koujaku's tastes- after all, Shiroba/Desire is all of Aoba's impulses, thoughts, and desires taken to the extreme. Aoba thought that Koujaku likes women and femininity, so Shiroba WILL make himself look as feminine as he can to make Koujaku like him more.

There's also the fact that, compared to their good end sex scene, Shiroba is much more... Placid. In the good end, Aoba speaks, he laughs, he laughs AT Koujaku, he tries to turn his head away but agrees to look at Koujaku in the end; He is an active participant who is willing to laugh at his partner (in a way) and make demands. In contrast, Shiroba mostly goes with what Koujaku wants to do; He participates to a degree, sure, but he allows Koujaku to bite him, lick his blood, and fuck him pretty violently without any sort of resistance. This might be a stretch, but it can be seen as Shiroba trying to play a more "feminine" role- which means being passive, allowing your (male) partner to do whatever he wants to do with you (even when it's painful or uncomfortable), and let him essentially use you as a receptacle of his emotions and bodily fluids.

This is a very narrow understand of conventional gender roles, but given that Shiroba is a being of extremes, it makes sense for him to see his own gender and dynamic with Koujaku as that simple and two-dimensional. This whole ending is all about misunderstood intentions/desires, so Shiroba is doing all he can to embody the most extreme conventional femininity in an attempt to appeal to Koujaku, while not having a clue that Koujaku was actually attracted to Aoba's masculinity.

The funniest part of it all is that Koujaku is actually a pretty feminine man himself; His very design blends masculine and feminine elements, which @asarigg points it out in her excellent essay on Koujaku, (among plenty other things), and the way he acts mixes masculinity and femininity too. However, Aoba either doesn't see it, or he treats Koujaku as a "special case"; It's probably the most clear in the scene in the CD drama where Aoba says that hairpins "usually" look bad on men (after Koujaku asked him if he'd like to wear one), but that Koujaku makes it work. The whole plotline/emotional core of this route centers on Aoba relying on his simplified image of Koujaku when it comes to how he thinks about him, only to be proven dead wrong and forced to confront how multi-layered of a person Koujaku is- to reject the image he made of him in his head as a child and make a new, more nuanced one as an adult.

When Aoba was a kid, he saw Koujaku as his hero, someone who protected him, watched over him; He was kind of his masculine ideal, someone he wanted to be when he'll be older. Now that they're adults, Aoba still sees Koujaku as someone hyper-masculine, whose feminine traits and behaviors are glossed over because Koujaku is "allowed to" be feminine a bit. The sad thing is that a lot of Koujaku's masculinity is kind of a ruse that was taken on as a defense mechanic, learned back when Koujaku was living in an abusive household, when he was a victim of abuse, saw abuse inflicted onto his mother, and was possibly forced to perform violence to some degree as means of "education" (things like learning to fight hand-to-hand or swordfighting).

Koujaku can fight because he tried to fight his abusive father and was trained to kill in the future, once he takes over the criminal empire. He flirts with women to fill the void he feels due to his rock bottom self-esteem and because he doesn't want to see women sad or mistreated after what he saw his mother go through. Koujaku's persona is carefully build and maintained, because all masculinity (or gender in general) is performed- this is what people around him expected him to be, that's what he was taught to be, and so he performs, even if it twists him up inside (we know he bottles up any negative emotions and doesn't share his struggles and trauma with anyone, which is also a part of toxic masculinity). It also seems like he's often out drinking with someone and he's a smoker- that's more of a theory, but people often find brief respite from their stress/unadressed emotions in substances, and while people of all genders do it, there seems to be a bigger social acceptance for men to indulge in order to "deal" with their problems and avoid showing "weakness" for just a bit longer.

The good thing is that Koujaku seems quite comfortable in his femininity. He loves his (stereotypically feminine) job, he remains kind and gentle to those who need it, he respects women around him and treats them well (even if that relationship is far from ideal of course), he's always considerate and caring towards Aoba, etc. It's interesting that despite liking and being attracted to Aoba's masculinity, he encourages him to branch out and seemingly embrace his own femininity more (he tells him he'd look nice in a hairpin, or that he'd love him no matter how he'd look like). I wonder if Koujaku found some kind of respite in his femininity back when he lived in his father's house and was potentially held to strict masculine gender roles enforced through violence.

It feels like one of these things that Aoba needs time to process and accept; In a couple years, he'll be doing deliveries with the most complex braid with flamboyant decorations and the most bitching eyeliner ever performed on Japanese soil.

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Unexpected vulnerabilities and glimpses of hidden struggles are unveiled. But as defenses rise and words cut deep, the moment is fractured, leaving you and Agatha to confront unresolved emotions alone. Back at home, tensions only deepen.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

Agatha’s eyes fix on the ground, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in the dirt as she collects her thoughts. “It’s … my mother” she begins, each word dropping heavily, like stones tossed into a deep well. “She… she expects a lot from me.”

You stay quiet, watching her carefully, patiently waiting for her to keep going as if any movement or sound could rip the moment apart.

Agatha sighs, frustration clouding her face “It’s like no matter what I do, it’s never enough. Ultimately, I always do something wrong, some unforgivable mistake that makes me unworthy of her legacy. It’s … it’s … it’s exhausting.”

You feel an unexpected twinge of empathy, the weight of those expectations all too familiar. “So that’s why you… reacted like that?” you ask softly, choosing your words with care, as to not startle her. 

Agatha’s tone sharpens, but something fragile lingers beneath “I was… tired. Tired of always being under her scrutiny, tired of feeling like I’m never good enough.”

You study her, take in her words, trying to gauge how much more she is willing to reveal. 

And then she speaks again, almost startling you. “I’m supposed to be Agatha Harkness” she says, voice laced with sarcasm “powerful and poised, the daughter of the great Evanora Harkness” she sweeps her arms out in a mocking, theatrical gesture, her lips curling into a bitter smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Then, her expression falters and her voice drops to a murmur “But here …” her gaze lowers, arms falling back to her sides, her voice barely audible now. “Here, I was just … broken. Powerless”.

An unexpected protectiveness stirs within you and the words easily come out “You’re not broken, Agatha. Sometimes… it’s all just too much.”

Her eyes flash with something unguarded—is it … gratitude? “You make it sound so simple” she scoffs bitterly, “But it’s not. Not when your are constantly being told, reminded, that you’re failing to live up to some impossible standards someone else set for you.”

You fight back the urge to share how much you relate to her words, choosing to let Agatha have her moment. Right now, you just want her to keep going, to talk to you. “Maybe you should tell her that” you suggest, your tone gentle but firm. “Your Mother, maybe she needs to hear it.”

Agatha’s laughter is hollow. “Right, because that’s how these things work. I’ll just sit down for tea with her and be like, ‘Hey, Mother, can we have a chat about your impossible expectations?’”

“Why not?” you counter, your voice calm and steady as you try to hold back a smirk at her sarcasm. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She’d probably just sl- laugh in my face and remind me what failure of a daughter and witch I am” Agatha replies, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

You meet her gaze, determined not to back down. “Why do you let her get to you? You can choose not to let her opinions define you.”

And with your words lingering in the air, an unbidden thought strikes ‘you are such a hypocrite, is that what you do when it comes to your own mother? You, giving mother-daughter relationship advice … really?!’. Your own voice is so loud in your head, but you are quick to push it aside, determined to keep your focus on the conversation and on Agatha.

Agatha scoffs shaking her head “And you think that’s easy? Maybe for someone who hasn’t spent their life under the weight of someone else’s expectations.” her tone is icy before she pauses, her eyes narrowing. “What would you even know about that?”

“Enough to know that resentment eats away at you” you shoot back, tension tightening around you. 

Agatha opens her mouth, then hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “So now you’re just the expert on my life, right?”. The moment the question hits your ears, you realize there’s something about the way her sass flares up, only to vanish just as quickly, that’s starting to grow on you—for reasons you can’t quite explain.

“No” you say evenly “but I’m trying to understand. You act like you don’t care, but tearing up half the forest isn’t exactly indifference, is it?”

Agatha rolls her eyes “Oh, aren’t you insightful?” she shoots back, sarcasm dripping from every wordy. “What’s next, are you going to solve all of my life’s problems with your little spells and the power of nature?” she raises her hand, fingers flicking in exaggerated waves as if she’s casting a spell in mockery of your abilities. 

When her teasing is met by your silence and unimpressed face, Agatha’s hand drops. She shifts on her spot and slightly away form you, her walls slamming back into place. “What makes you think I need your help? I don’t want you to understand me” Agatha snaps. Yet, her bravado feels thin, barely masking the vulnerability underneath. “And I don’t need you to either. I don’t know you and you don’t know me and things don’t need to change just because yester-”

“Maybe I’m starting to see you” you interject, your voice low but firm. “And maybe … that scares you.”

Agatha’s expression darkens, and you can see the inner conflict waging war once again within her. “What do you even want from me?” she asks, her tone suddenly softer, almost pleading. “Do you want me to apologize? To grovel at your feet? Because I’m not going to do that.”

Your scoff immediately fills the air “I don’t want any of that.” you say, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination … before it falters. “I-I just want to listen, to help you” the words escape your lips before you even realize it but, weirdly enough, you feel no urge to take them back.

It’s Agatha’s turn to scoff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if trying to shield herself from your words. “You really think you can break through, don’t you? You think you can just stroll in and make it all better?” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s in it for you, anyway?” her eyes narrow, a twisted smirk curving her lips as she tilts her head, examining you “Or do you just get off on trying to ‘help’ people?” she sneers. “Is this your idea of fun, finding broken souls to patch up?”

The words hit you like a slap, and you feel a surge of irritation rising in your chest. It’s not like that… is it? You’re not even sure why you’re here, why you feel this strange pull toward Agatha’s pain, her defenses, and her sharp sarcasm. But her accusation stings, and for a second, you’re at a loss, unable to find a response that doesn’t sound defensive. You press your lips together, trying to ignore the way her gaze feels like it’s cutting straight through you, exposing motives you hadn’t even figured out yourself.

You just… sit there, quietly, as the silence between you grows stifling and almost suffocating, locking you both into this strange standoff. Then, Agatha finally looks away, her smirk of satisfaction fading quickly to your own surprise. 

You study her face for a few more seconds before letting your gaze drift away. For an instant, you can feel how her words are suspended in the air, mingling with the wisps of smoke from the dying fire. Enveloped in that same air, Agatha can feel the weight of what she said, its sharpness. A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face, giving way to something heavier, the realization that her words likely reached a part of you she hadn’t entirely meant to wound.

A hint of regret seeps in, unexpected and unwelcome, but undeniable. Her fingers find a loose twig on the ground, and she twists it absently, a distraction from the unfamiliar pang of guilt settling in her chest. 

The two of you remain like this, silently lost in thought and unwilling to meet each other’s gaze, as time stretches on indefinitely. Finally, as if needing to fill the silence pressing down on her, Agatha breaks it, her voice edged with frustration “It’s just… I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about this.” she mutters.“This whole conversation is ridiculous. I should be studying, or practicing my spells, or… I don’t know, anything else! Not sitting here talking to you, of all people.”

At the sound of her voice, you turn your gaze back to her, noticing how she is yet again tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, this time with the twig. Her eyes are fixed downward, still avoiding yours. “Maybe you needed to get it off your chest” you reply calmly. Only then does Agatha’s hand still, her gaze lifting until her eyes meet yours, something flickering within them as if your words have caught her off guard, as if she was expecting you to reply something else entirely. “Besides” you add “they say it’s easier to talk to someone you’re at odds with.”

“Right, because that’s totally sane” Agatha snaps, but her voice lacks its usual bite. “I’ve lost it, talking to my mother’s rival’s daughter. What’s next? Making each other flower crowns?”

You raise an eyebrow and take a breath, feeling the tension ease just a fraction. “We’re not so different, you know. We are both fighting to escape expectations that were never ours to begin with.”

“Great!” Agatha replies, giving a slow, exaggerated clap, the faintest hint of a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Two broken souls bonding over the wreckage of their lives. Truly inspiring.”

“Better than being at each other’s throats” you shot back, your words almost a question, a small grin threatening to break through.

Agatha rolls her eyes, but you can see the corners of her mouth twitch again. “I suppose. Just don’t expect me to start writing poetry about my feelings anytime soon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” you reply, unable to suppress a chuckle.

But the lightness of the moment doesn’t last long. Agatha’s expression shifts back to something more guarded as she speaks “Look, just … I don’t want to be some sob story. I’ll handle my drama in my own way. I didn’t ask for this heart-to-heart.”

“Fair enough” you say, your voice steady. “Just know that you can talk to me if you ev-”

“Sure, I’ll just add it to my list of things I’d rather not do.” she cuts in, but there’s a flicker in her eyes—a glimmer of something like acknowledgment, maybe even appreciation.

This isn’t a resolution, but it’s a step. Toward what, you’re not entirely sure. The tension between you shifts slightly, softened by all the things left unsaid. You tell yourself it’s nothing significant, but somewhere, buried beneath your thoughts, lingers the sense that this might not be the last time you talk.

Agatha’s voice pierces through the silence, her expression serious “It doesn’t make sense, does it? And yet here we are.”

“Yeah” you murmur, letting the strange truth settle between you. “It’s ridiculous, we’re practically rivals.”

“Practically?” she scoffs, though the tension in her voice hints at something different, an understanding just beneath the surface. “I’d say we’re already well past that point.”

“Fine, we’re rivals.” you say, and you can almost taste the faint hesitation on your tongue. “But… do you even know why?” you can’t help but ask, the question just hanging there, almost rhetorical. “I mean, it’s just… always been that way, hasn’t it? Like, it was handed down to us and … we went along with it?”

Agatha’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement at your questions, her expression shifts slightly as she considers your words. But her tone suddenly hardens “You think that just because we’re sitting here, chatting about my emotional breakdown or whatever, that we’re best friends now? That’s not how it works and you know it.”

Agatha’s words settle heavily in the air, cold and dismissive, pressing against you like an invisible wall. Whatever momentary connection you thought you’d glimpsed now feels fractured. For a brief second, you almost want to reply, to push back, but a strange resignation settles over you instead. You can’t shake the feeling of foolishness creeping in, a nagging sense that this whole morning was just a waste of time. Why did you even bother? What were you even expecting?

You force yourself to nod, as if conceding. “Right. Like you said, that’s not how it works.”, but the words taste empty. You exhale sharply before standing up, glancing back at her one last time “Goodbye, Agatha.” you say, your voice steady and calm, deliberate. You hold her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, as if silently making it clear that you won’t be the one left vulnerable. Then, without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, letting the muted sounds of the forest close in around you.

Agatha doesn’t move for a long time, her gaze trained on the fading embers. The ashes lift and drift in the breeze, remnants of something heavy and unresolved, scattered too easily, just like the semblance of a connection that had briefly flared between you. She watches as the ashes dissolve into the air, a reminder that what’s been reduced to ashes rarely returns to what it once was. The weight of the moment clings to her, an odd pang she doesn’t fully understand. It presses against her usual defenses, almost like regret, not that she’d never admit it.

As she sits there, the faint rustle of underbrush draws her attention. She looks up, noticing a rabbit moving toward her with a cautious, uneven gait. Her brow furrows slightly as she watches it come closer, each hesitant hop tugging at an unspoken guilt she doesn’t want to acknowledge. Only when it pauses just a step from her crossed legs does she feel the certainty settle. A quiet, undeniable recognition that this is indeed the same rabbit that had fallen victim to her anger the day before.

Instinctively, she raises a hand to shoo it away, irritation flashing across her face. “Get lost.” she mutters, her voice sharper than she intends, her fingers flicking in a dismissive wave. But the rabbit doesn’t retreat. It stands its ground, then hops closer, pausing in front of her with a quiet insistence. She watches it, her irritation softening as it sits there.

With a sigh, Agatha relents, lowering her hand until her fingers barely graze the rabbit’s fur. The warmth of its small body surprises her, grounding her in the quiet solitude of the forest. Guilt and tenderness flicker in equal measure as she absently strokes its fur. “I’m sorry.” she whispers, barely recognizing her own voice as a single tear trails down her cheek. The rabbit hops into her lap, then settles in, curling up as if it belongs there, its small body calm against her. For the first time in a long while, Agatha allows herself a moment of quiet reflection, feeling the weight of emotions she can’t fully name.

The stillness of the forest fades as you cross through your garden and step into the walls of your home. Before you can even close the door, your mother’s voice pierces the silence, her tone laced with its usual mix of mockery and disapproval. “Back already?” she sneers, her gaze scanning you as if searching for signs of trouble. “You usually haunt the woods till dusk, and here you are, so early.”

You suppress an eye roll, your patience already strained “Not much going on out there.” you reply coolly, moving past her toward the stairs, hoping to avoid the inevitable lecture. But her voice follows you, sharp and cutting.

“Not causing trouble, I hope? I’d hate to hear of another mess like yesterday’s. Evanora doesn’t need any more reasons to question our family’s… stability.” Her words are thinly veiled, the accusation hovering in the air between you.

You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to snap back. “No troubles and no messes, Mother.” you say dismissively, willing your voice to remain steady.

As you place a foot on the stairs, your mother’s voice sharpens again, keeping you rooted to the spot. “And don’t think you’ll be skipping Evanora’s gathering this afternoon. She’s called on every one of us to further discuss this hunter situation and possibly put together some kind of patrol group. And you will be there. I won’t have you embarrassing me by staying behind.”

You pause, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “And if I don’t want to go?”

Her smile is as cold as her tone “Then I suggest you finally master that invisibility spell. But since I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon, you’ll attend. Just like the rest of us.”

You feel her gaze on your back as you ascend the stairs, her words echoing after you with their customary bite. In the silence of your room, you find yourself looking out the window, the image of Agatha sitting cross-legged by the smoldering ambers lingering at the edges of your thoughts. You brush it away, frustrated at yourself for even allowing it to linger.

And then, as you sit in the quiet of your room, a sudden thought hits you, sharp and unwelcome. Of course, Agatha will be there this afternoon. You almost laugh at the bitter irony, escaping the forest and that exhausting conversation, only to be thrown back into her presence. It feels as if the universe itself is playing some twisted joke, forcing you back into her orbit before her words have even had the chance to fade. Normally, neither of you would spare the other a glance, content to keep a safe distance in the silent rivalry that’s defined you both for years. Today won’t be any different. Nothing has really changed, you tell yourself. 

[milkycarnations]

Profiling the Creeps as Someone Who Works in the Service Industry

Basically, as someone who (unfortunately) has been cursed with a job in fast food, here are some things I think the creeps would do. Some of these things piss me off, some are just habits - not good, not bad.

Brian

Pulls through the drive-thru and asks for "his usual".

Always pays in exact change.

Always asks for fresh (insert item with long fry time). He will wait. No, he won't pull around.

Will always do those little surveys on the receipt.

Tim

Has tipped with a cigarette on more than one occasion.

"That'll do me."

"I remember when these were 97 cents!"

The card reader is beeping and he doesn't know where he is.

Toby

Tries to redeem a coupon that expired ten years ago.

Wants to use tap to pay but his car is way too far and he won't help reach the card reader so you just pull that cord as far as you can and hope for the best.

Will ask you what comes in each item in detail just to get the most basic item on the menu.

Paid in 15 counterfeit 1-dollar bills.

Jeff

"Hi, how are you?"

"Give me a number 8."

Asshole.

He wants to leave as much as you want him to.

Does not utter a word at the drive-thru window.

Jack

Refuses to get a drink with ice because mold, unless it's a cafe he can trust.

Orders enough food to send the entire kitchen into a panic.

The type of person to ask for 10 add-shots in their latte.

Insert chain-related joke you've heard eight times today.

Liu

Prefers to sit in the lobby rather than going through drive-thru.

Cannot figure out how to use the kiosk, but he's trying so hard :(.

Always uses his pleases and thank you's because he's a good man.

Demands a receipt.

Nina

Calls you babe the entire time.

Is talking on her phone and no, she won't hang up.

Thinks all coffee shops are like Starbucks and will ask you for an iced caramel macchiato or a Frappuccino.

Just doesn't understand coffee drinks in general, but if you can figure out her taste/order she will tip heavily.

Jane

Way too stressed to be here and not really listening.

Forgets to take that thing she hates off of her food but is too embarrassed to say anything about it.

Pulls her car into the parking lot and eats there because she can't trust herself to eat and drive.

Always asks for way too many extra sauce packets.

Ben

"I'll take a large diet."

"Alright a diet Pepsi :)"

"No, coke"

:(

Takes all of your napkins.

[enidtendo64]

Hi!

I just wanted to let you know that I think your art style is beautiful, and it always makes my day better when I see you post something because it's just so unique!

May I ask you about your thoughts on Dipcificia (I hope I'm spelling that right), and their relationship and what their favorite things might be about each other? By the way, have you heard of Over the Garden Wall? (cuz smoetimes people make otgw and gravity falls related posts). I didn't really want to waste your time and I apologise if I did, that was not my intention :) and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Hi! Aw man thank you so much!

Oh I have too many thoughts about them—I’m on like a lunch break rn so I might not have much time to speak how much I want on them buuuuut I do have a relationship meme I did a while back that I can post here and explain a bit!

So, here’s the thing, I think depending on the situation/AU/whatever they might have some different things in their dynamic, but I think overall a key feature to their relationship in any setting is that there needs to be banter!

Pacifica likes that Dipper is just as sassy as she is and isn’t afraid to call her out while still having that support system she needs, and just being someone she knows likes her for her and not her money or status.

Dipper likes that Pacifica despite the haughty toity stuff and bratty exterior is a real and witty person who can be brave and cares about people (even if it’s deep down) and bc she has these nuances and isn’t an ideal like he’d made for Wendy in his head, he can actually talk to her and have a good relationship.

Ok now this one is gonna veer more into headcanons but these first two are supported by canon so! I think Dipper enjoyed heavily the fact Pacifica is secretly nerdy, or at least nerdy without realizing. Canonically Pacifica is like, level 100 at some overwatch/warcraft hybrid that I’m convinced is the GF equivalent of League of Legends, and I have a heavy headcanon that Pacifica is so naturally good at numbers and shit like the reason she’s so good at minigolf is just like she sees the angles. Which is funny to be good at geometry when your series’ big evil dude is a triangle. Also Abigale Northwest reference of her being a tinkerer/engineer. I think Pacifica would decimate him in video games or any games in general and Dipper would be both parts competitively upset and genuinely impressed.

And theeennnn this is also backed by canon: I think Dipper is secretly a huuuuge romantic, liek does all the sweet shit type of romantic. I mean we’ve seen his elaborate Wendy plots, and I think it just makes sense for a guy who likes to plan to plan romantic stuff. And maybe he’d also like for someone to do stuff like that for him in return! He might not admit it but everyone picks up on it real quick I think. Pacifica is both surprised and endeared, if not used to it since she comes from a home that doesn’t really express affection. I don’t think she’s ever had anyone actually say they love her, and then here comes Mr. 12 step date plan. I think it just makes her fall even more!

Let’s see, I also think Pacifica falls first, Dipper falls harder. Paz got a crush at the end of NWMM, Dipper would finally realize he liked her like maybe the next summer or so, but by that point Pacifica has resigned herself to having a crush she will never speak of ever bc it’s embarrassing and also she has no clue how to give and receive affection. She’s still learning! I think it differs based on the situation but for post series canon, I’d like to think they started dating/long distancing like first or second year of high school and ended up being high school sweethearts. Bc I think it’s cute!

Let’s see what else…uh Dipper confesses first, Pacifica was his first kiss but Pacifica’s first kiss was when she was younger with some snooty boy and it was unwanted and she cried bc he was being an asshole who took it from her, and her parents didn’t give af. Typical. They both start arguments, though Dipper apologizes first only BARELY. They’re both equally stubborn. Pacifica will apologize if she knows it’s her in the wrong (like idk saying please thank you and sorry) but if it’s a real, both sides hurt and got hurt, type of argument, Pacifica edges out in the “how stubborn can I be” race. And then Paz brings up the past more bc it’s the most she can reference with her sheltered upbringing, and Dipper talks more bc Pacifica is genuinely interested in his interests even if she doesn’t outright admit it sometimes but also I think Pacifica tends to have gotten used to not talking as much unless it’s to judge so she’s got a lot of shit to unlearn, so she just reacts to being spoken to more than starting the convo, if that makes sense. And then Pacifica is more sacrificial bc I do think Dipper is super giving and definitely protective (they both are but Dipper more so since he’s just canonically like that) but I think Pacifica is more the type to sacrifice way more than she can give if it means doing what’s right. Even if she hates it lol. (The bell, idk wtf happened with her there but she’s genuinely scared out of her mind about that bell and yet she’s willing to risk it all!)

Ok and then lastly! I have seen OTGW! I love that show! It’s really well animated and the storyline is sweet!

And thank you, I hope you have a wonderful night too!

[moonmunson]

either way / no doubt

a/n: either way and no doubt by Odie Leigh have been on repeat currently and I relate to them so heavily so I word vomited on a Google docs. its a little rushed but oh well LMAO (I'm also always writing with a plus sized reader in mind)

cw: over thinker fem!reader, autistic coded reader, not knowing how to enter into a first serious relationship, kind lover boy!Eddie, no use of y/n

wc: 2.1k

It is the beginning of Spring when she meets Eddie Munson. Genuinely meets him, not just sees him around town and wonders what it’s like to be in his orbit. Working at the local diner, she sees him and his group of friends often. She’s served them a couple times, and they’re always respectful - albeit rambunctious. They tip well, stack their dishes for the busboys to clear, wave to her on the way out. 

It’s the day Eddie comes in by himself that marks it as different, new. He sits in her section of the diner, glances her way and then averts his gaze when she meets it. That’s odd, but she doesn’t think much else of it. Not until the end of his meal - consisting of a solitary cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie - does he stop her when she checks to see if he needs anything. 

He asks if she’d want to hang out sometime, and she laughs - a forced exhale of nerves. He asks why she’s laughing, and she doesn’t know what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, she relents and shrugs. What would we do? He says anything she wants. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to do? He says they’ll figure it out together. 

They end up sitting in the back of Eddie’s van, the open doors facing Lover’s Lake. She’s fidgety, and stumbling over her words. He keeps staring at her when she talks and she’s not used to anybody doing this much work to stay focused on her and what she has to say, especially because she’s not saying much of substance. He asks her so many questions, and mundane ones at that. How are classes at the community college? What’s your major? She answers as best she can. 

The feeling of someone looking at her makes her skin crawl. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she’s uncomfortably aware of the position of her nose on her face, which seems incredibly silly, and then she’s thinking about just how silly that is when he asks her if she’s alright. 

“Sorry?”

“I was just asking if you felt alright. It looked like you went away for a second there,” Eddie ducks his head down to catch her line of sight. Eye contact has always been difficult for her, but this is different - warm - like sunshine. “I know I’m not the most exciting person to talk to, but I hope you’re having a good time. I enjoy talking to you.” 

“I’m here, sorry. I like talking to you too.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay.”

“Sorry. Oh-” She sucks in a breath and places her hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the realization of her mistake. He giggles, a sweet boyish sound, and it warms his face. She thinks she could love that face, if he let her. If she knew how. She laughs too, despite herself. “It’s a bad habit. I really have to stop apologizing so much.” 

He’s still smiling when he says it’s okay, he understands. 

Later, when he drops her off at her apartment, the sun has gone down. The ride he’d offered her is relatively quiet. It’s a strange thing, to see the way someone adjusts themself around you. The usual loud heavy metal is absent here. The fast driving and sharp turns are traded in for complying with the speed limit, graceful steering and soft brakes. When he looks at her, she directs her gaze out the window - when she looks at him, he is focused on the road. 

He stops her as she takes off her seatbelt and goes to open the door, jumping out of his own and running around the front of the van to open it for her. She leads him to her front door, and he asks if he can see her again, if he can have her number. She nods, and rummages around her purse for a few frantic seconds before finding her waitress notepad and pen. When she rips the page out that she’s written her number on and hands it to him, he clutches it to his chest and smiles.  

“I’ll call you when I get home, if that’s okay. Just to let you know I made it back safely.”

“And if I want to keep talking to you?”

“We can talk for as long as you want to.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie walks backwards for a few seconds, keeping his eyes locked on hers, paper still against his heart. By the time he’s made it back to his van, he lifts a hand up for a short wave goodbye, and turns to face the vehicle. 

Now or never. 

“Eddie?” In true Munson fashion, he whips around completely at the sound of her calling out to him. 

“Yeah, sweets?” 

“I just wanted to tell you I had a really nice time with you today. I can’t wait for you to call me later.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, needing to do something with her hands to offset the nausea brought about by her impulsive vulnerability. He smiles wider, if that’s even possible. 

“I’m glad you had a good time. I’ve been wanting to ask you out forever, Gareth and the guys kept busting my balls about it. I promise I’ll call when I get home.” 

She nods, her eyes tracking his steps as he makes it to his car. She watches him drive off. It feels so strange, this immediate wanting him to come back, wanting him to come inside and crawl into her brain. To know her fully. It scares her in a way she’s incredibly unused to. When she can’t hear the music blasting from his speakers anymore, she makes her way inside and slumps against the door for a few seconds. 

He does call when he gets home, and they talk until the sun rises. 

__

They spend the next few days talking on the phone. It’s easier like this, she thinks. She doesn’t have to worry about the way she looks when she’s thinking of something to say. She doesn’t have to avoid his white hot gaze, the way she can feel it trail over her face when she’s speaking. If he notices how much more she opens up to him when they’re not actively sitting next to each other, he doesn’t mention it. 

When they’re not on the phone, he clings to her brainspace like moss on a tree. She can’t stop thinking about him, to the point she’s worried she’s obsessing over something that isn’t there. He’d said he had a good time, he said he enjoyed talking to her, so why does it keep bothering  her so much? He feels safe. He does feel safe, but she’s not used to conversations with no expectations. No guise, no hidden agenda. If he notices the way she starts to pull away due to her overthinking, her sentences shorter and stunted, he doesn’t mention it. He carries on as usual, calling her to talk about what he’d done that day. It makes her smile. 

When he asks, unprompted, if he can see her again, she says yes. 

__

They go to the lake again. It is an early March morning, the last tendrils of Winter still grasping desperately for some kind of recognition against early Spring. He brings a blanket and hot cocoa for both of them, and she feels it in her chest - warm and sweet and chocolatey, like his eyes. It’s easier this time, talking to him. She spends less time worried about her posture and cadence - more time really listening to him speak and trying her hardest to maintain eye contact. 

The early morning breeze makes ripples on the otherwise still surface of the water. It’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. He’s so expressive when he speaks. She used to think he was careless, jumping on tables and riling up the people he knew didn’t like him. Seeing him up close like this, she realizes it’s kind of the opposite. It’s careful, planned, the way he uses his hands, his eyes. Even when he’s talking about a book he's read a million times, she feels like she's there among the scenery and characters he describes. It’s entirely captivating. She wants to be more like him. Carefully carefree. 

She’s never done this kind of thing - the relationship kind of thing. If that’s what this is, she has no idea how to traverse this new terrain. She can’t find her footing, she doesn’t know what the formula is, what the proper way to go about it looks like. She doesn’t think about sounding weird when she asks:

“What are we doing?” 

Eddie pauses mid sip, brings the cup back down to his lap. 

“Currently? Or like, with our lives?” He chuffs out a little laugh. Not in a teasing way, though it's hard for her to differentiate. “Because currently, from my perspective at least, I’m sitting in my van with a pretty girl talking about our favorite books. What I’m doing with my life is something a lot of people, including me, would really like to know.” 

Levity, she recognizes. 

“Sorry if it's a weird question, I just…” She trails off, breaking eye contact, looking at her hands in her lap. He scoots forward a bit, the side of his thigh touching hers as their legs dangle off the back of the van. He doesn’t push her to say anything, doesn’t acknowledge the unneeded apology, doesn’t fill the silence with his own voice.  He just waits, patiently. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sit this still. 

“I really like you, and I really like talking to you. I’ve never done anything like this,” She uses her pointer finger to gesture between the two of them, drawing a connecting line between their bodies, “I don’t know how to, if that makes sense. I’m not really a lot of people’s type, I guess.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie sets the cup down next to him and very gently takes her hand, locks their fingers together. When she raises her eyes to meet his, he continues. “There’s no rush, I mean it. You set the pace here, okay? I like you, like a lot. If all you wanna do is sit here and talk, I’m totally fine with that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, sweets.” 

“What if you find out how weird I am and decide you don’t want to talk to me anymore?” 

At this, Eddie relinquishes his grip on her hand, hops down from the lip of the back of the van, and stands in front of her. 

“Y’know who you’re talking to?” two thumbs pointed towards himself - eyebrows raised, mouth quirked in a goofy grin, “King of the freaks, misfits, and ne'er do wells. I don’t think you could scare me off, but you’re certainly welcome to try.” 

“So just… be myself?” She scrunches her face up - the idea of being genuine is almost totally foreign to her. 

“Be yourself!” 

“Ew. Yeah, alright, fine.” She sighs in resignation and shrugs a shoulder. Doesn’t think about how convincing he is, or how willing she was to drop some of her defenses. Carefully carefree. She can do it. 

They share a laugh, finishing their luke-warm cocoa together and talking until the sun is high in the sky and the temperature rises too high for them to ignore any longer. This time, the drive home is less quiet. She meets his gaze when he looks over at her from the driver’s seat, she hums along to the sound of the radio, it's nice. Comfortable. 

Just like last time, Eddie hastens to run around the van and open her door for her. He extends a hand to help her down and out, and they stay connected on the short journey to her apartment’s front door. Eddie watches while she digs the keys out of her purse, unlocking the door and leading the both of them inside for a drink. He kicks his shoes off by the welcome mat, and they look like they belong there. 

It is the beginning of Spring when Eddie Munson permanently plants himself in her life, a steadfast source of comfort and nourishment. It is hard for her, and it takes longer than most for her to truly open up. To show him all the nooks and crannies of her mind. He takes it all in stride - her overthinking, her quirks and neuroses. He shows her that it is entirely impossible to trust someone enough to take part in the watering and flowering - that it's not a weight she has to hold alone. She can bloom.

__

if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog!!

[a-bit-too-critical]

Oh yeah, stupid obvious problems with the plot of sinsmas:

1. How the hell is Stolas able to harm Andrelphus?? Andre has even more power than before (enough to form ice in large sculptures, animate said sculptures, so yeah he’s powerful), and Stolas is literally on the power level of an Imp now. If anything I could see a joke where Stolas tries to punch Andre and gets flung back immediately, then has a mental breakdown realizing he can’t do shit to stop any of the Goetia against him

2. …so do hellhounds just have crazy ah quadrupedal forms now??? Why??? They’re the lowest class in hell they have no right to transform into big beats that could easily maul the imps, hellborn, and maybe even sinners they are supposed to work for. Makes 0 sense. Hellhounds should have no extra forms and human forms should be accessible via asmodean crystals and royal objects such as the grimore, not just a thing hellhounds can do.

And some miscellaneous stuff not related to plot issues or holes but just wanted to talk about em:

- The Stolitz dance was just a glaring reminder of Viv changing her stories based on fanwork. Two Stolitz animatics that became very popular a few years ago (Sway and Greg and Rose Dance) are so clearly inspirations for the dance. Blitz climbing up on something, an intimate and comforting moment at the end, cheesy romance music, it’s literally all there like cmon Viv :/. Dance styles are pretty similar too. Inspo is fine but this really feels like she’s just taking fan ideas again

- ohhhh look who came running back to Viv 😭

- I also wanted to yap about Millie’s pregnancy because there’s about 6 possible outcomes that I could see Viv going for:

The best outcome: Millie doesn’t want the baby, her and Moxxie discuss and eventually decide on abortion. Millie trusts Sally May with all her heart and decides to confide in her, which proceeds to turn her whole family against her. Could be a good commentary on how these kinds of political nothing-burgers can straight up tear tight knit families to shreds, and for what? A woman’s personal decision? I’d love for them to show how stupid it is for families to be torn apart over politics, but that’ll never happen

The other great outcome: Millie debates heavily on what to do over the course of many episodes, but eventually her and Moxxie come to the conclusion to keep it and we get a fun arc of them raising a kid and pulling Imp closer together along with their relationship

The neutral outcome: Millie gets rid of it and it’s not really addressed for more than one episode, it’s just kinda there lmao

The pretty freaking bad outcome: Same as the great outcome except the child is used as a substitute for Octavia by Stolas and they basically become his child :/

The really, really bad outcome: Millie is forced to “accept the gift of life” and raise a child she doesn’t want or some stupid pro-life commentary

The Jesus Christ Viv why outcome: extremely sexualized and unnecessarily long pregnancy and birth scene, no I wouldn’t be surprised if this actually happened

So yeah, this could either be great or one of the worst things that has ever come from this show

[thedissonantverses]

Let’s Talk Taash, Or How Neurodivergence Relates to Gender Identity:

I’ve tried to write my feelings on Taash multiple times now but realized I need to break it down into parts. I relate to Taash on so many levels it’s kind of insane. I’m biracial, queer, neurodivergent, and had a parent I had a complicated with relationship with who died before we resolved any of our issues with each other. I can breathe fire too but it’s a secret.

I’m far from the first person who’s noticed how heavily Taash is autistic coded. The hyperfixation on dragons, blunt patterns of speech, the strong sense of justice amongst other things.

If you can’t tell by the everything about me, I have a searing case of ADHD and would like to get retested for autism. I am not even remotely kidding one of the things that drew me to Dragon Age were the dragons because of that hyperfixation. There’s a reason I’ve spent years pouring over every bit of lore and doing meta analysis. I just…really like dragons….

One other thing to understand is that I have chafed against the gender binary my whole life. I’m a cis woman but to say my feelings around gender are complicated is underselling it. I know perfectly well I can lead saw crews in the woods and wear dresses and shave most of my head and still be a woman, but I’ll be damned if people don’t try to police my gender still at 32 years old. One of the reasons it was so easy for me to accept gender as a social construct was because I knew it was bullshit but was still expected to contort myself into some version of a “woman” that never made any sense. I use she/they pronouns as a result.

Like a wise protagonist once said “Being a woman shouldn’t hurt.”

I was listening to an autistic non-binary man speak and he said it better than I ever could, but when he sits in a room by himself he doesn’t have a concept of gender. He use he/they pronouns but he realized it’s because all of his masks are male. It hit me like a truck then that yeah, most of my masks are modeled after my mom.

I don’t know if other neurodivergent people relate, but it’s one of the reasons I’m so attached to Taash. This struggle against identity and the culture in your house and around you is something I’ve dealt with my whole life. It took a lot of struggle for me to get as comfortable in my own skin as I am now. Taash is my hero because they’re unapologetically who they are in the face of that struggle.

Shokra to ebra.

[lokativa]

People calling Hobie×Miles (punkflower) shippers proshippers as if we didn't ship them for longer than the movie even came out will always be crazy to me.

I've seen lots of people sending threats, or reporting people because they made punkflower, goldenflower (pavxhobie), ghostbyte (gwenxmargo), flowerbyte (margoxmiles), etc, arts or videos. Going to assume that it isn't because most of these ships are POCs ships, there's just literally no point to do that.

First of all, there's no confirmation of hobie's age. If ur basing urself of that one interview, then it was of the CONCEPT of hobie, and even so remember it was only one person who said it. Its heavily implied thats he's a teenager throughout the movie. (Also in the art book, its said that he's slightly older than Miles).

For the thing about him going to the pub and all, minors can and will go in pubs, (not saying that its always legal) are yall living under a rock or just dense on purpose? Teenagers do wtv the fuck they want, even when theyre not allowed to. Youre all going to tell me teenagers respect the rules of not drinking and go to clubs becuz theyre underage? Come off it. Also hobie literally merked his president and u think he'd draw the line at drinking alcohol as a minor? HA.

Aside from that, to be fair to everyone, the directors keeps on changing what they're saying about hobies age, one day they'll say and imply he's a minor and the next second say he's an adult. It's like they all have different idea of this character's age. So, nothing is really comfimed, and his age is really up to interpretation.

Now that we're past THAT point, the other kind of people talking about his age are people saying "oh but he looks old" "that man is most definitely 30yo" "there's no way he's underage" things of the sort, u get it. And I'm just over here like??? Why is it impossible for you to think that this guy could be a teen? Is it the air? The wrinkles? What makes it seem like for you that there's no way he could be around the other teens' age? And 30??? Cmon. People often assume black people are older than they look, which is a universal experience for all of us. Did none of u ever see a blk teen who doesnt have a baby face? Because thats literally what hobie looks like to me. To others we can seem too "mature" for our age, or just look too "old" to be the age we say we are, so is it really impossible for him to be a teenager? Think about it.

(Speaking of him being black, this discourse turned into some kind of racist thing that honestly was not unexpected at all. Yall come over here shitting on people talking and educating u about a character they relate to cuz hes like them, and the representation is making them go bonkers. I don't know why yall can just sit ur arses and listen for a bit, its not that difficult tbh. And dont get me started on the mischaracterisation of his character. Marking him as "an angry black man"? Really? Be. Fucking. Original.)

Same goes with Margo?? Yeah in the comics she's in college, but cmon now u guys know damn well she's a teenager in atsv😭. Gwen is also much older in the comics but i never see anyone talk about it, so what does that mean???The only reasons I can see that you all don't want Miles & margo to be together is because you're all stuck on the milesxgwen ship. News everyone, other ships exist, not everyone is going to like the same ships as you, so either move on or stop being on the Internet.

Also, the thing about pav being 13 is bonkers, where'd u even get that from? I need to know asap. "Oh, but he has a gf!" Yeah? Well he has two hands. (Idk why u all act as if that has ever stopped anyone)

Everything just seem like a race thing to me tbh.

The movies might be inspired from the comics, but not everything is going to be 100% the same. For exemple: gwen is 2 yrs older than Miles in the comics, but in movies she's only 15 months older, Jess Drew is white in the comics and black in the movie, Miguel O'hara is white passing in the comics, compared to his version in atsv where he has brown skin, lyla's disign is also different.

You get it? Things are going to differ as much as things are going to be the same, because (get ready!!) this is the multiverse! Just as earth-616 is just one universe in all the marvel comics, atsv is another universe.

All in all, im not saying u can't view them as adults, or wtv u want, thats ur interpretation, but don't go around being pissy at people around u cuz they have different point of views.