#like they could have made the point they wanted to without making it a whole episode

[chris-prank]

A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 3 : A new pet

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

Previous chapter

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

CW: NSFW, praise kink, teasing, porn with plot, petplay, obsessive behaviour, yandere, mention of stalking, giving head/eating out, dom reader, receiving reader, bottoming reader and use of protection

(Even if the reader is bottoming at some point I made it vague enough so you can imagine which whole is being used.)

Word count: Over 3K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

As stupid as it was, you didn’t call the police.

There you were, sitting in front of your phone, debating if you were making the right choice or not. You finally took it and called the coffee shop, cutely named “Brioche d'Or”. You jumped in your seat when a cheery voice answered.

“You have called Brioche d’Or! I’m Pierre, how can I help you today?”

“Can I speak to Jacce…please?”

“Yes absolutely, could I get your name?”

You told the employee your name and heard shuffling on the other end of the line, before you could faintly hear him say “You’re more popular than I thought!” You had to suppress a chuckle, because by that time, Jacce had taken the phone from Pierre. 

“H-hey, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes, at what time could you come to my place today?”

Silence fell on the other line, except for his heavy breathing. Even if you weren’t in front of him, it's like you could feel the warmth of his breath through the handset.

“Is 3 pm alright?” his voice sounded choked, as if he had runned out of air. 

You hummed in response and swiftly told him goodbye, hanging up before he could answer. Your face was burning hot and your heart was hammering in your chest. You looked at the time. You had five hours until he arrived. 

***

The moment you heard knocking on the door you took a deep breath. The man standing at your doorstep was towering over you with the most nervous, but strangely excited, expression on his face. You didn't even give him the chance to open his mouth as you pulled him inside. When the front door was shut close, Jacce leaned in on you– expecting you to kiss him. You awkwardly turned your head to the side while pressing your hands on his chest to prevent him from getting closer. He tilted his head, confused, but you could see some arousal in them, surely due to your touch.

“Let's go to the living room.” You whispered, feeling like your lungs were crushed by the proximity. 

As you sat down on the couch, Jacce remained standing, giving you quick glances as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

“You can sit, you know.”

To your surprise, he sat on the ground instead of taking a place beside you or in any other chair available. You could feel your lower half warm up instantly at his actions. You scolded yourself mentally for being turned on by a simple action, but it didn’t prevent you from imagining the most blasphemous scenarios. You cough the thoughts away before opening your mouth again. 

“Ok so, I thought about you becoming my… you know…”

It was out of the question for you to say “pet” or “servant”, this whole situation was already lewd enough with him kneeled down before you. Luckily Jacce nodded without saying the quiet part out loud. 

“I guess it was pretty obvious since I invited you here… " You laughed awkwardly as you felt the heat rise up to your face. 

In the meanwhile, Jacce kept staring up at you with this submissive look, accentuated by his down turned eyes. He was really making it hard for you to think straight. It was almost like his body language was screaming at you to kiss him already. 

"Does that mean I can… live with you from now on?" He asked, tilting his head. 

You froze at the question. Even if this guy had clearly shown that he wished to be yours, you didn’t realize it meant living together as well. You blamed your touch depraved self for not thinking any of this through. 

"Oh em… I didn’t think about that part… Don’t you have an apartment or something?”

“I have a house actually, but it’s ok… I want to be with you.”

You look at him stunned, how could he talk about leaving his house behind like it was nothing!? Especially in this economy! Maybe he was hoping for you to move in with him one day, but you had other things to worry about for now. 

“I guess you could live here if you promise to do what I say."

Jacce nodded with clear eagerness, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate as he spoke again. “I p-promise! I’ll do anything just to stay by your side. " 

As threatening as that last part sounded, you felt honored that someone would go that far just for you. You also mentally winced, you had no time to unpack all the childhood trauma that could have led you to think this way. 

“So no more stalking if I tell you to?”

He seemed to ponder at first, but ultimately agreed, “I won’t need to anyway since I am yours now, but y-yay I’ll stop.” 

“And no more secretly touching yourself while watching me?”

He shook his head up and down quickly. You could feel the lust and impatience taking control of him the more time he was spending in your presence, his entire face getting flustered by the second. You wanted the same thing then him at that moment, but it was crucial to establish rules and you had one more in mind. 

"Before settling this, I need to make something very clear. I know you want to pleasure me and all, but I don’t want you to force yourself when you’re not in the mood. "

"But—"

"Ah ah. No but, If I’m not one hundred percent sure you want it to, we won’t do anything. No arguing with that. Say that you will always be honest."

Despite Jacce being visibly shocked, not understanding why you wouldn’t want to use him without his input, a part of him was touched. If that wasn't proof of your love for him, he didn’t know what else could prove it. 

“I will… always be honest about my mood…” He said slowly, almost like a child being forced to admit a fault they committed. 

���Good and now that’s cleared, do you want to continue where we left off last—.”

“YES!”

You were caught off guard by the sudden rise of his voice, but you were more surprised by his lack of action. You expected Jacce to jump on you like a dog in heat, but no, instead he was twitching his hips forward into the air with his tongue slightly sticking out. He had been a well behaved boy ever since he got here now that you think about it. He certainly deserved a treat. 

You started unzipping your pants as the kneeled man watched your every move, his body trembling in anticipation. You took your pants off, followed by your underwear, grinning at the little whimper he let out at the sight of your private parts. You tapped your thighs, and the man immediately crawled to settle between your legs, licking his lips. You couldn’t help but grin at the lewd display.

"Pleaseee can I lick?" He whined as his gaze was still fixated on your arousal. 

A soft yes escaped your mouth, as you prepared yourself mentally. He leaned forward and took your core into his mouth, slowly swirling his tongue around while his hands caressed your thighs.  

“Good boy.” You cooed. 

Jacce moaned and continued to move his head eagerly, covering every bit with saliva. He felt a wave of ecstasy wash over him as he tasted you on his tongue. His free hand reached down to pull his cock out of his pants, making it stand tall against his clothes stomach. The second he was done, Jacce’s hands went to cup your thighs again, gripping the soft flesh possessively. He was using his mouth like a pro, making you wonder if he had done this before or if he just… practiced with toys.

After a while of him servicing you like an obedient little puppy, you couldn’t hold back the burning desire residing in your guts anymore. 

It was too much. He was too much.

So you placed your hands behind his head, slowly taking a fist full of his hair. The soft gesture made Jacce moan between your legs, thinking you were petting him as a result of his devotion. If only he knew that it was hiding a less innocent intention. 

"Jacce I really need to… "

He seemed to finally understand what you were trying to do since his grip on you disappeared and he stopped moving his head. Jacce stared up at you through his eyelashes, waiting for you to sink into your desires. You leisurely started to move your hips so as not to startle him, but quickly picked up the pace. The man under you kept making loud sounds of pleasure despite your roughness. The vibration on your sensitive skin stimulated your arousal even more. Even with the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, Jacce’s cock couldn’t stop leaking. If his mouth wasn’t occupied right now, he would have gone on and on about how much he loved you. 

While lost in the overwhelming sensations, your mind was suddenly reminded to check on the guy choking under you. You swiftly looked down with your eyelids halfway closed. If anything, his rolled back eyes and the fact that he was still trying to touch you in other ways were good indicators that he was enjoying this as much as you were. In spite of his visible enthusiasm, you pulled away to let him breathe, which made him whine in disappointment. Now that his head was out of the way, you were also able to see his swollen dick pulsing like crazy, precum oozing out of it to complete the look. Knowing he could get this hard by simply servicing you was making him even more attractive. 

"Look at you… not touching yourself because I didn’t allow you too. " You answer between shortness of breath, “I think you deserve to… to feel good with me now.” 

***

You lowered yourself until the tip of his glans brushed against your hole. You wrapped your fingers at the base of his cock and patted it against your entrance. Jacce winced at the contact, or in better terms, the painful lack of it. 

“Please please please, let… let me be inside. Pleaseee.” He begged, trying his hardest to keep his hips down. 

“You need to be patient, Jacce.” You reminded him while ignoring his pleas. 

You weren’t much better to be honest. The thought of fucking him stupid clouded your mind since that time you gave him a hand job. Your self control was all for show since you didn’t want to look like a desperate pervert in front of him. That was his job. 

After some more teasing, you finally sunk down onto his dick, gritting your teeth as it stretched you out. The both of you let out moans at the pleasurable sensation. The feeling of his hard cock inside you was already overwhelming all your senses. 

“Does it Ngh– hurt? Do you w-want… to stop?”

Despite his worried tone, his facial expression and heavy breathing gave away how blissed out he was. He also kept making small whines ever since his cock was surrounded by your warmth, not to mention that his cock also pulsated non stop against your walls. 

“I’m ok. You're just… thick.” You answered vaguely, too embarrassed to admit how he was stuffing you up perfectly. 

Pride overtook him, knowing that his dick would definitely grace all of your sensitive spots. That’s what he was made for, to be used by you until he breaks and to be an obedient pet that feels fulfilled by making you happy. 

Only when you felt your insides adjusted to his shape did you raise your hips slowly, before dropping yourself with all your weight. You kept that pace, all the while admiring his face twist in pleasure. 

“I’m yours!" He cried out instinctively in a quivering voice, "a-all yours!"

To keep yourself bouncing rhythmically, one of your hands went to his shoulder. You cupped his face with the other, gently caressing his cheek to compensate how ruthless you were with his cock. Jacce looked at you through his messy hair and fuck he had the most dazed expression. He couldn’t help but whimper loudly and nuzzle his head into your touch. You expected him to say something again as he opened his mouth, but instead he started sucking on your thumb as he kept up your gaze.

“Such a good puppy for me.” You praised while bouncing faster. 

The mess under you moaned and gasped as new waves of pleasure hit his nervous system. The sound of your ass hitting the flesh of his thigh became louder from your swift movements, almost overshadowing the cute sounds Jacce couldn’t keep to himself. He had stopped sucking your finger, to your disappointment, but it looked like he was actually trying to say something now. You leaned closer, making sure to let your warm breath graze his skin. 

“Come on, I know you can use your words.”

The mess under you made multiple whines in response. You were so cruel to force him to speak like a proper human being when his brain was clearly far too gone to create any coherent sentences. You glanced down and saw how hard he was clenching his hands, both resting onto the soft material of the sofa. So you slowed down a bit, allowing him to speak his mind. Jacce swallowed the drool that had accumulated in his mouth, before answering as best as he could. 

“If you go Mngh— this fa-fast, I won’t… Ah ah… be able to keep it in like a good bo— Unff.” His breath had drastically quickened, confirming his complaints. 

“So sensitive.” You teased, while sneaking a hand under his shirt to go play with his nipples. 

“Aargh— mmff!” Jacce leaned up to trap you in a strong embrace, preventing you from stimulating him further, “w-would be too m-much.” He sobbed into the fabric of your clothes. 

Taking pity on him, and totally not turned on even more by his behavior, you wiggled your hand out of between your chests and cupped the back of his head. Jacce's body and grip eased up as the gentle tingle of your touch took its effects on him. 

“Thank’you…” He muttered in that whiny tone that made you go crazy. 

“Now, how about I let you choose the rhythm?” You grin mischievously, knowing the kind of reaction it would get out of him. Just as you expected, Jacce’s eyes opened wide and you could see a glint of excitement in them. 

“A-are you sure? I… I really can?” 

You hummed in response while guiding one of his hands to your waist. To feel his trembling touch against your exposed skin made your stomach twist in that familiar urge to turn him into a crying mess. But no. You wanted his first time with you to be more relaxed. The humiliation of making him cum prematurely would come later, if he’s on board with it, which you're pretty sure he would. 

Meanwhile, your puppy didn’t need more for his fingers to dig into your flesh and his hips to tentatively roll up to meet with your pelvis. Jacce’s eyes closed from the spark of pleasure, but only for him to force them open so he could admire your complexion. He had spent enough time imagining your face alone in his room, and now that he had the real deal in front of him he was going to enjoy every second of it. 

“Lov’you… M-mine…ngh—” He muttered in a whiny voice, only to repeat mine over and over again, louder each time. 

You couldn’t tell if it was a statement on his part or if he was looking for your approval. Either way you found the contrast between his possessive words and his pathetic attitude endearing. He could say that as much as he wanted, but you both knew that, at the end of the day, he was more yours than anything else. 

Jacce started grinding up on your ass desperately, as if you were a magnet he couldn’t pull away from. His brain couldn’t think of anything else than the ecstasy coursing through his body every time his shaft was engulfed inside you once more. For someone who wanted you to go slow in the fear of cumming prematurely, he was going strangely fast now. Both of your hands grasped at his shoulder as not to go flying off because of the unfaltering movements of his hips. It would undeniably leave marks, especially with how your fingernails were pressed into his skin, not that he minded. It would be concrete proof that he was yours and that this wasn’t just a hyper-realistic wet dream. 

Jacce’s body shuddered uncontrollably as he tried his best to not cum right then and there. He needed to be a good boy for you. Meaning he needed your permission to cum, especially since it would be his first time with you. But more importantly, he needed you to climax first. To think he didn’t get the chance to taste it on his tongue earlier made him pout for a second. He was more than grateful that you wanted him to feel good too, but still, your pleasure was his priority!

“I-I need ngff… your c-cum Ah ah— p-please cum with me!”

Lucky for him, you were also close to your breaking point, the feeling in your guts ready to explode into a million pieces. 

“Yes puppy, l-let’s cum together.” You whisper back with a breathless voice.

One of your hands left it’s post to touch yourself down there, as best as you could anyway considering the way you were bouncing up and down on his cock. Your insides instantly tightened around him as sensation, pulling new sounds out of him. It was just the right push to tension to finally let go. 

Your body froze, and you had him in a vice grip, his dick and his shoulder alike. With your head thrown back, a shrill moan escaped your lips. This was the only signal Jacce needed to finish as well, his hips snapping back in short but swift motions. He emptied every last drop of his cum inside the rubber condom. His last moan, if it could even be qualified as such, was mixed with the start of your name, but ended with a pathetic whine. 

As Jacce came back to his senses, he could feel an uncontrollable smile forming on his lips. It was the first time you came because of him and he was feeling euphoric. Now that he got a taste of being the source of your guttural desires, there was no way he would ever leave you. He could feel his heart beating drum in his ears as his infatuation for you grew exponentially. He placed lazy kisses on your collar, his way of hiding his manic grin, and mumbled words of love. 

The wet sensation on your skin grounded you back to reality as you leaned into him. Never in your life you thought you could have the opportunity to make a grown man submit to you like this and, despite the unorthodox circumstances that brought you together, you were truly satisfied. As the aftershock of tiredness hit you, Jacce nuzzled his head into your neck, like a dog wanting to be petted for doing a trick right. 

“I’m… really yours now?” He said in a hush tone. You had noticed that every time he was in a more submissive headspace, his voice would have a whiny quality to it. Not to the length of being annoying, but just enough to sound cuter than his usual raspy voice. 

You lifted your hand to rub his back in circles.

“Yes.” 

Jacce moaned happily in response, leaning his heavy self more onto you.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

So so sorry for the late update! I hope it was worth the long wait!

Link for the chapter on Ao3

Also no drawing for this chapter! 😔 Maybe I’ll post a drawing based on something that happen in this chapter later on

[wetpussyju1ce]

the smallest Omega in town takes on the biggest Alpha.

+18 mdni

Alpha!König x Omega!fem reader

note: reader is described as skinny. small wrists and bony knees. shorter than the 141.

John's pack was known to be extremely loyal and fiercely protective over each other. They were nice though, friendly and liked to mingle with other packs and families in the village.

They were also extremely close to each other and in tune with each other's needs. And that's how the pack found out that König, their big, awkward Alpha, needed a bit of help when it came to ruts.

He usually spends them alone, much to his packs disagreement over those arrangements because it can't be good for you, it can't! Then they decided to take matters into their own hands and try to find König a rut partner. It was a very serious matter for them, they coaxed König out of details and descriptions about what he likes. They know he doesn't really have a preference if they're Alpha, Omega or Beta. So that's a good start.

He likes them pretty, soft around the edges and smaller than him, which could be literally anyone in the whole village considering his sheer size.

And that was about it.

So Johnny, Kyle, Simon and John went to work. Looking for willing unmated wolves to spend König's ruts w him. Surprisingly it was easy to find willing partners, they know König, have seen him around and the idea of being impaled on his knot was attractive to quite a few of them.

But the real problem started when König asked for a try-out, before his rut hits, because he knows that a knot of his size could be considered a weapon. And he doesn't want to feel the rejection and hurt during his rut when he realises his partner can't take him, or are scared of hurting.

So they accepted, all of them, pretty Alphas, shy Omegas and tiny Betas.

And it didn't go well, they all believed it could be achievable, like how big can he really be? Body-horror big, apparently because what the fuck.

Oh and König knew to anticipate this. The gods made a joke out of him when building him in his mother's womb. They gave him everything it was to be a perfect Alpha, and gave him the biggest knot that no Omega, or Alphsa/Beta could take. It was ridiculous.

He lost hope and decided to busy himself with rut preparations, stocking up one of their many cottages deep in the forest, away from everyone.

His pack was sad for their sweet Alpha, it pulled at their heart to smell his upset scent. he scented sad and defeated and they really wanted to try harder, to make it all better.

it got to a point where they had no idea what more could they do because obviously nobody could take his knot without causing themselves injuries. and their Alpha can't be alone forever, surely??? I mean, that's a bit dramatic but he obviously craved that type of connection and bond with someone. he can't knot his fist and someone's thighs, forever, it wasnt enough!

and when all hope seemed lost their doorbell rang.

and there she was. the tiniest Omega they've ever seen. well, she wasnt that small, but compared to them, she sure as hell was, dainty and skinny too, bony knees and tiny wrists. she was standing there, wearing a pair of shorts, boots and a t-shirt under a flannel, she looked like she just finished gardening, dirt stuck to her knees and caking her boots.

"Hello?" Simon greeted, confused.

"Is König in?" She asked, looking up at the taller man.

"No, why?" Simon raised a brow.

"Oh and I'm here for the rut partner try-out, thing. if that's still happening." She said, shrugging, all casual.

Simon's mind screeched to a stop, did she say try-outs?? is that how everyone in the village saw it as?? what in the hell??

"What the hell are you talking about?" Simon said, utterly confused.

"What? Did he find someone?" She tilted her head to the side, confused.

"No, no-- Just, what makes you think you can take his knot? You're fucking tiny." Simon went straight to the point.

She smiled, kind and unbothered, "I know he's big, I heard all sorts of things, but I believe I can help, and if it works, I'd also like an arrangement out of it, a heat partner if he'd be willing."

Simon feels like he should slam the door on her face. Just to save her guts from absolute and sure destruction by König's cock because no way in hell would she be able to take him. but then the Omega looks sure of herself. not cocky. just looks friendly and honest and she looks ready to help.

Simon maybe should have asked her to save her guts and go away but he doesn't. he let's her in, not knowing that she has spent years of her heats trying to shove as much of her toys inside her as possible. she doesn't even mention the fact that she ends up fisting her cunt every heat cycle. or when she has a heat partner w a knot, that knot ends up inside her alongside a toy at the same time.

the Omega ends up meeting König, says she would like to help. he disagrees at first because he's not in the mood to take her to the hospital, he really really doesn't want to hurt her. but then she begs him to trust her w the sweetest face he's ever seen, lets him scent honesty all over her and he agrees to give her a chance.

König n the Omega end up talking abt gardening and the sellers at the market and the prices these days. they quickly bond over growing vegetables and their shared dislike for that one guy that sells strawberries and swears that they're that naturally huge (and they're not even sweet, what the hell??)

they agree on a date, and a time, they would try to see how it goes before König's rut hits, and if everything goes alright, they'll spend it together.

when they meet, König's weary, she's not, calm and happy as a clam. she asks him to trust her, and it starts off easy, she holds his hands and König shivers because his are literally giant mitts compared to hers. she sweet talks him into relaxing, she sits on his lap and they start talking a little, then she goes ahead and kisses him and he realises very quickly that he likes that, he really does, her lips taste sweet and her scent is so sweet and delicious.

König's alpha quickly realises that this may actually work and he gets excited in record time, tents his trousers and gets his mouth on her tits, it takes no time for her to start leaking like a broken faucet. König's hand are slippery between her legs and he's about to pass out at the intensity of it all. she's everywhere around him and all he can do is suck on her breasts and purr.

then he gets a finger inside her tight and warm hole. it's wet and feels soft. then another goes next. and another. all the while she's making all sorts of noises, clawing at him, and the more fingers he can push inside her the more he's awed and amazed because for someone so tiny and fragile, she sure as hell can take so much inside her.

König wants a better view so he gets her on the bed, laying on her back and absolutely hammers his fingers inside her cunt, watching her stomach bulge everytime he drives his fingers in.

he's about to lose his mind at the sight alone, and then she cries, squeals and squirts all over his hand and arm.

König then gathers her in his arms, chest to chest, gets his arms under her legs, as they're pressed against her body, practically folding her in half, carrying all of her weight in his massive arms like she was just a doll to him, and finally dips the head of his cock between her pussy lips. he starts to push further in and she's moaning, clawing at his neck, he gets halfway in and he's sweating bullets because she's so tight and she's pulsing around him and yet, he knows she can take more. and he was right because he keeps dropping her on his length until it's all inside, to the root, and she wails, comes again, shaking in his arms and König is losing his mind, his knot swelling in record time. when he comes, he's dizzy and he's heaving like he ran a marathon and he hasn't even thrusted inside of her just yet.

they make all sorts of noises when fucking. it's animalistic. König sounds like he's about to pass out and the Omega sounds like that's what she's been waiting for all of her life. It was filthy, intense and so fucking loud that when Gaz was sent to check on them, as they used one of the many cottages John's pack owns, the moment the smell hits his nose, he freezes and turns back around, he does not want to be anywhere near them if that's how potent their combined scent is.

at least he knows they're having a great time. so he goes back, well, more like runs back to the house, a little bit scared and excited because finally their Alpha got to knot someone!

and when all that's said and done, and the Omega and alpha come back to the shared house the next day. König is out of it, nothing but statics behind his eyes while the Omega looks content, eats everything she's offered by König's pack, starved. but winces once in a while when she moves in a certain way. she scents happy, and König scents confused but content nonetheless. and that's everything his pack wished for.

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere Artist x GN!Maid-Reader

Julian (or Jules as you nickname him), an esteemed artist in Victorian society, becomes captivated by a forgotten maid who moves through life unnoticed by others. Obsessed with finding ways to capture the adoration he has for you on canvas.

You’d been a maid at the gallery Julian visited, and the reason he returned over and over. He, a man of great status, an esteemed artist too, became drawn to you beyond his own understanding.

On one of Julian’s many visits, he found the courage to speak to you. "You work so hard, yet make it look as graceful as a dance", he murmured, his voice soft but sincere. You were startled—maids weren't meant to be noticed by men of his status. But Julian wasn’t like the others.

It was only after weeks of shared glances, whispered conversation and quiet sketches that Julian dared to ask you for more.

Losing sleep over the way you made him feel, emotions so deep and unexplainable he began going mad over trying to express it. His current models and pieces of art just weren't good enough compared to you and the way you make him feel.

A type of suffocating love he never thought could exist.

“Forgive me for being so forward,” he said, his voice gentle and earnest. “I understand this may come as a shock, but if you’d allow me, I would be honoured if you would be my muse."

Though you were hesitant to overstep and cause a scandal, he promised you everything you could want if you were to only be his muse, he’d give you a place to stay and all you could ask for, you wouldn’t have to be a maid anymore. But then being his muse, turned into friendship, then lovers.

He fell in love with how you so effortlessly inspired his work -but fell harder for how you grounded him as a person. Smitten by the little things- your soft laughter, the gentle way you spoke. He loved the small gestures you made without thinking, the way you’d hum as you worked. He'd notice it all.

While initially hesitant from the intensity of not being spared a glance to having a man tripping over himself at the sight of you -you grew to enjoy his presence. The idea of being someone who inspires him, someone who is at the centre of his world. After living your whole life in the shadows.

...

Many hours a week are sat in his study as he paints you, his work taking on a new life, new meaning that only makes it so much more beautiful.

Julian loves to draw you absentmindedly—it’s almost like an instinct, something that he can't stop even when he's lost in thought. He has many books filled with fast sketches that are almost abstract that he scribbles without even looking at the page, to incredibly detailed sketches that almost look like photos.

Parts of your day are recorded in those books like his own form of videoing you. Some are so attentive they could be made into a seamless stop motion.

Sometimes he even finds himself sitting on the bathroom floor as you bathe, talking to you as he once again absent-mindedly draws. finding inspiration for his next piece.

He’s obsessed with the little details. He gets lost in those details, and every sketch is a desperate attempt to capture your essence. But not necessarily just when he’s drawing either.

When he’s not drawing, Julian traces his fingers over your skin studying every part of you.

His love language is physical touch, though it’s always gentle and respectful. Gently running his fingers through your hair or resting a hand possessively on your waist.

But that doesn't mean he lacks in the other 4 departments. Like how he loves to whisper to you just how much you mean to him.

His feelings for you are intense, to the point of worship, though he doesn’t fully realise how deep his obsession runs, he doesn't do anything to correct it either.

Sometimes that can be overwhelming for you, especially going from such an ignored life to one in a lovely house, a handsome gentleman of a husband and the title of being a muse.

But you can't bring yourself to make him stop, he’s Prince Charming in your eyes.

You don’t see the way he glares or scowls at men who dare talk to you when you accompany him to town or an event. Or how he makes borderline cruel verbal jabs to women who try to take his attention from you even for a moment.

[plague-doctor-who]

While the term "forgive and forget" is rather widespread, it's important to remember that forgiving yourself for your past actions doesn't necessitate forgetting the harm they've done and could potentially do again. Just because you allow yourself to stop dwelling on something and beating yourself up over it doesn't mean you have to forget it ever happened.

And that's not to say that the people you hurt don't have a right to be upset with you, they very much do. You could do everything in your power to try to make things better and they still wouldn't owe you forgiveness. But like op said, at some point you have to be able to move forwards yourself, or else you'll just feel sorry for yourself. That just leads to thoughts along the lines of, "I'm already a horrible person, so why shouldn't I do these harmful things? It's not like I can be anything else..." Which is incredibly harmful for both you and those around you.

To forgive is not necessarily to forget. What matters is growth, and you need to be able to move forwards from your misdeeds in order to do that. That doesn't mean putting them all behind you and falling into the same loop, that isn't growth. It means accepting that you did bad things, and that you don't want to be that person anymore, and that you're taking steps to better yourself.

And this isn't restricted to just abuse, this goes for everything. We've all made mistakes, we've all hurt people and done things we regret. That doesn't mean we have to live with those burdens all our lives. We can learn from them and better ourselves. But that all starts with shedding this black-and-white, good-or-evil notion and allowing yourself to exist as a flawed character who's trying to be better.

Oh yeah, and applying this to other people as well. I feel like we, as a society, tend to be extremely judgemental and critical of others based on our limited perceptions of them, without even considering their inner thoughts or ideals that could have led to what we see on the outside, but that's a whole other can of worms I won't get into right now... Point is, even people who have done horrible, evil things, should at least have the chance to try and grow from that if they really put forth the effort to change for the better.

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[passionwillow]

Deacon making reader's 21st birthday special 😏

Oh.

Oh god.

I have so many emotions running through me at this idea.

You were a friend of Streets, maybe, someone he knew in the foster care system and stayed friends with. You met 20-David many times over the years and Deacon always stuck out to you. He was so fucking handsome.

And god did he look at you. Your tight jeans, your leggings that showed every fucking curve he dreamed of letting his hands run over. He felt like a dirty old man. His teammates 20 year old friend he was pining over. But it had been a year since Annie left and he hadn’t gotten much action.

Street was set on throwing you a birthday party for your 21st. You were friends with 20-David at this point and were happy to have them and a handful of other friends.

You pulled out your favorite blue dress for the occasion, wearing short heels you weren’t great at walking in but looked great with the dress.

Street insisted on taking care of everything, all you had to do was show up to Luca’s. And Deacons eyes never left you the whole night. The way the dress hugged your curves, fell over your thighs he wanted wrapped around his head-

He tried to hold back. Tried to keep his cool, smile and chit chat with you as he made your rounds to people.. But he couldn’t take it.

The party was still going by midnight and he weaved through the crowd to find you. You felt a hand on your arm and looked up, your eyes meeting his. He leaned in and spoke close to your ear, asking if he could see you in the house.

Everyone was gathered outside, given the nice weather, so it would give him privacy. For what- he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what he planned to do.

But you willing followed him, hand still in his warm grasp as he took you inside. He shut the door and looked down at you, your dress cut low so he could see the top of your breasts.

He didn’t even register he was walking towards you, cornering you against the wall. His eyes couldn’t stop roaming over you, taking in everything he’d only dreamed of devouring.

You felt like cornered prey, yet arousal was pooling in your gut as the older man stalked you. Before you knew it his mouth was on yours, hot and demanding, and you gave yourself over without a thought.

Your hands with in his hair, tugging and holding for dear life as his went- everywhere. Cupping your breasts, roaming over your sides and hips, over your ass. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Before you knew it he had you picked up, legs around his waist as he kept you against the wall, mouth moving to your neck as he growled. “You know how long I’ve waited for this? To just- have you?”

His voice was low and gravely, his cock aching and pressed to your panties. You whined and ground against him, looking into his eyes and whispering. “So have me. Fuck me. It’s my birthday, and it’s what I want.”

You didn’t need to say anything else. He fucked you right there against the wall, freeing his cock and merely moving your panties to the side. He filled you like no one else had, stretching and dragging against your walls.

He couldn’t hold back, even if he wanted to. Your body flush against his, your moans and whines filling his ears. He was done for.

He pulled one orgasm from you against the wall, filling you up with his cum as he finished before pulling back, holding you to him as he walked with ease to a nearby bedroom. He didn’t know whose bed he fucked you on, and he didn’t really care.

He yanked your clothes from you and let them fall wherever, his own disappearing after. He moved to kick off your heels but he stopped you, a dark grin on his face.

He gave into everything, every dirty thought he’d had. Eating you out until you were practically in tears, his thick fingers teasing that sweet little pussy. Your mouth around his cock, eyes on his as he fucked into your mouth. And then sheathing himself in you once more, forehead pressed to yours as he fucked you into the mattress.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there with him, curled up in his arms before his lips found your ear, mumbling. “Happy Birthday, beautiful.”

You smiled and gave him a sweet peck, almost missing Luca as he came into his room and froze.

“What the fuck?”

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Teen Villain Alliance

Chapter 7

Jazz had been against the Teen Villain Alliance. 

As proud as she felt for Danny creating a safe place for meta teens to go, it… it was still villainy. These were still kids, broken, strong, powerful kids, and the fact that so many of them fall into lives of crime was a tragedy. So the fact that Danny was explicitly allowing and even teaching these children to commit crimes… Words had been said. Loud, angry words that shook the walls with their rage.

Words that their parents didn’t hear all the way in the basement. As always too busy with their work to pay attention to their children–

Well. At the very least she made her feelings known. 

Armed with her best psychology textbooks and two years of Stanford classes, Jazz prepared for her greatest challenge yet: infiltrating a criminal organization. Run by her baby brother. 

It hadn’t been easy. After their argument, Danny had been keen to keep her away from his “project.” And Jazz couldn’t just suddenly pretend to be onboard with crime. Despite his low self-esteem, Danny was smart and definitely would figure out that she was faking. With Danny gray-rocking her and the mental health of all the children he could help at stake, Jazz did something drastic, something no one would ever expect of her and something that would horrify Danny. 

She transferred to Amity Park Community College and moved back home. 

Stanford hadn’t understood. Her new friends didn’t understand. Danny, spitting mad and accusing her of spying on him, didn’t understand. But with her less strenuous classes, and extra income from online counseling sessions, Jazz was able to track down their meeting places and help set up the Teen Villain Alliance. 

It had taken a long time to convince Danny that she wasn’t going to turn them in to the Justice League. That was her fault; she’d reacted viscerally to Danny’s pitch for the TVA and broken his trust. For someone already as untrusting as Danny, the fact that she even had it was the result of years of being there for him instead of their parents. 

Now, she was older. She’d gone back to Stanford after the TVA took off and started making a profit and gotten her degree. She spent days in the Ghost Zone looking after the kids that ran through the halls of her brother’s haunt. She held regular individual and group therapy session and was in charge of a whole slew of children who didn’t want to commit crimes–there weren’t many, but kids often took long breaks in between missions and she chose to count them among her number. 

It wasn’t an ideal life, nor was it one she could have prepared for, but it was hers. 

Returning to her warm and inviting office in Phantom’s Haunt, Jazz checked her itinerary. She had an interview with a new teacher: Red Hood, set to teach riflery. She checked his file; there hadn’t been many interactions between the Alliance and the rogue, but most of them were neutral, and his open desire to protect children made him a shoo in for the position. Damian had brought him to her attention when discussing potential allies with Danny, and Danny had handed the list off to her without a second thought. 

Her office, designed to look like the old-timey library of her dreams, lit up red as the clock struck 3 (in the afternoon, she wasn’t a heathen) and the automatic summoning circle flared to life. A rush of light spun around the interior of the circle, spinning and flickering until it fell back down, revealing… a normal man holding groceries. He promptly dropped them and pulled a gun on her, pointing it at Jazz’s head as he demanded to know where he was.

Jazz frowned. She suppose it made sense that Red Hood wouldn’t be in uniform 24/7, but she’d hoped to catch him while ‘on the clock.’ Oh well. “You’re in my office, Mr. Red Hood. Please don’t try to shoot me; the ecto-barrier will hold, and I’d rather not replace the carpet again.”

“The fuck are you talking about!?” Red Hood barked. He didn’t lower his weapon. Jazz made a note of it on her chart. “Who are you? How did you kidnap me!?”

“I’m Jasmine, human resources director of the Teen Villain Alliance. I’ve summoned you for an interview today.”

He looked out of his depth. Jazz could understand; most of the human instructors she hired  were (and one had been enraged by the idea that a villain organization had a human resources department). “Summoned? I’m not a fucking demon! What the hell are you even interviewing me for?”

“Field teacher on projectile weapons and pyrotechnics, Mr. Al Ghul. We need more teachers who can take the kids out to the human world, and–”

“What did you just call me?” Now he looked disturbed. 

“Mr. Al Ghul? Your name?” Jazz checked her documentation again. Jason Al Ghul was listed at the top under Name. “Your younger brother, Damian Al Ghul has recently joined our organization and recommended you… Are you not the Red Hood?” She reached under her desk where she kept an ectogun charged. 

The man tucked away his gun and held up his hands, eyes locked where Jazz’s hand held her pistol. “...Yeah, that’s me. So this is where Damian ran off to?” Jazz relaxed and let go of the ectogun. Red Hood tried to walk out of the summoning circle, only to bounce off an invisible wall. “What the hell?”

“Sorry, but I’ve had interviewees try to attack me before. It’s safer to keep you in the circle until an agreement has been reached.” Jazz turned to her interview questions. “Now, before we begin, do you have any questions for me? I’m sure this has been very confusing for you.”

“Yeah. What does a villain organization need teachers for anyways?” His eyes narrowed. “Thought all of your kids were already villains.”

“Most are, but most teens… well, they end up caught quickly unless an older villain teaches them. And those villains aren’t exactly someone we’d trust not to hurt them in a training environment. Our school–”

“You have a school? Why the fuck do you have a school!?”

She sighed. “Mr. Al Ghul. If you label a child a villain and give them no way to prove otherwise, no way to grow or change, what do you think they’ll become?”

“Lady, you’re literally trying to recruit me to teach kids to shoot people. Don’t you fucking try to convince me you’re trying to help them.”

“I learned to shoot when I was 4, long before anyone called me a villain.” Admittingly, she wasn’t, and still wasn’t, a good shot, but he didn’t need to know that. “Most of our students didn’t wake up one day and decide, ‘I want to be a villain.’ They were labeled that way by society, their families, even the heroes they tried to stand up to. Here, at least, they have a place to belong.”

“Where they’re committing crimes on Phantom’s orders!”

“Less than 10% of the Alliance actively commits crimes at any given moment.” Red Hood paused. “Of those, we only take volunteers, and only those who are physically and mentally capable end up in the field. Most of the teens just live here, go to school here, recover here. It’s a safe place.”

“...Kids shouldn’t be committing crimes.”

“Kids also shouldn’t be stopping them.” His fist clenched. “Labels like 'villain' and 'hero' are meaningless when you’re dealing with teenagers who’ve already been written off by society. The TVA isn’t about teaching kids to rob banks or take over the world. It’s about giving them a place where they can survive—and maybe even thrive—without being hunted or killed for the circumstances they were born into.”

“And you’re putting ‘em in school.” He huffed a laugh. “You really think algebra and english class are gonna help them? Fix them? Put ‘em back together after the heroes shat all over ‘em?”

She shook her head. “It’s not about fixing them. It’s about giving them a second chance, and, for many? The first safe home they’ve ever had. Now–” She straightened her papers. “If you’ll content to an interview, we can get started. But if you’ve already decided to reject our job offer…”

He studied her with his narrowed green eyes and scoffed. He sounded just like Damian. “Ask your questions,” he spat. “Get ‘em over with quick, I got perishables over here.”

Jazz smiled, fangs peeking out past her lower lip.

[maxdibert]

Everything you’re saying is nothing but assumptions and headcanons. You accuse Severus of going around using Dark Magic on people, and I’m telling you that when Lily confronts him, she doesn’t mention him using it—she mentions Mulciber. That Severus had an interest in Dark Magic and developed DEFENSIVE spells because he was an abused child is another matter entirely. Stop making up nonsense because no one buys into your cheap hater rhetoric.

James starts the fight, and Severus defends himself. If someone slaps me, I have every right to punch them back because they provoked me. Sorry if you don’t understand how things work, but the person who attacks first is the one at fault. You keep victim-blaming over and over again, and you’re worse than one of those guys who, in the face of a rape case, says, “Well, she must have done something to deserve it.” You’re spouting the same rhetoric as those people—it’s disgusting.

No, Remus and Sirius never said James kept attacking Snape because he was afraid Snape might retaliate. What nonsense are you even talking about? Seriously, stop smoking hallucinogens.

Lily didn’t cut ties with him solely because of that incident. It’s obvious their relationship had already been falling apart before that, and they had been drifting apart for a while. It’s clear Lily had distanced herself from him more and more due to the company he kept and the incompatibility with her own circle of friends. That moment was simply the breaking point. And it’s not the same to get along with a Gryffindor Muggle-born as it is to openly confront an entire house, as you’re suggesting, and ACTIVELY RENOUNCE that house’s ideology when you have to sleep in the same dorm as those people. As I said, you must be incredibly privileged to think that someone without social, economic, or familial support has the freedom to stand up to a majority that not only outnumbers them but also wields enormous social influence. I don’t know what world you live in, but it’s clear you’ve never opened a book on class dynamics in your life. You sound like some neoliberal capitalist idiot spouting the “if you try hard enough, you can” narrative. Don’t come at me with that garbage when I’ve been a Marxist activist since I was 15 and have been working with at-risk populations since I graduated.

If Severus were a girl and a guy hung her upside down, exposing her underwear in front of the whole school, would you still have the audacity to say it’s not sexual assault? Leave your disgusting double standards at the door. James humiliated him in front of the entire school because Sirius was bored and wanted some fun. It was two against one. And the fact that the spell was Severus’s means nothing—what, are you serious? If I carry a knife to protect myself from being raped, and the rapist takes it and holds it to my throat, is it my fault that I was assaulted? Do you understand how problematic your comments are when applied to real-life situations? If you genuinely think like this, you’re terrifying, and I hope you never have to work with children or teenagers because you’re incredibly irresponsible.

Many Slytherins could afford to remain neutral because their families were powerful, socially and economically, and no one would touch them. Severus wasn’t a Nott. Severus wasn’t a Greengrass. Severus was a working-class half-blood with no familial, economic, or social support, which made him easy prey—both for being indoctrinated into a cult and for being targeted by a couple of rich bullies.

You’re defending a rich, upper-class kid with no reason or trauma to justify his sociopathic and violent behavior, while demonizing a working-class child from a highly dysfunctional family environment who had no resources whatsoever. Maybe take a hard look at your disgusting classism and your bootlicking attitude toward elites—we’re in the 21st century. You’re like a typical worker who’s always sucking up to his boss. It’s revolting.

No James wasn’t the devil and snape wasn’t his innocent victim.

Lately I’ve seen Snape Stans insisting that snape only became a death eater because of James or Sirius or his father or anyone else they want to blame, and that snape was innocent before hogwarts and innocent in all of his choices. It’s clear in the books that this is not the case. In the flashback scenes which take place before hogwarts, snape intentionally attacks a muggle with magic and makes it clear to lily that he sees her as an exception to blood purity and other muggleborns because she’s different. When lily asks him if her blood status matters he hesitates before saying it doesn’t matter, this is because it does matter to him but he thinks that she is special enough anyway. Not to mention that snape began using slurs against muggleborns before saying it to lily in fifth year, which she reveals she knew about when he tried to apologise for it.

Snape also already knew more dark magic than most adults as an incoming first year, which is listed as one of the reasons that snape was so hated by James, as Sirius and Remus say that James was always against dark magic and blood purity. Snape was using dark magic as a student early on, lily mentions he and his friends using dark magic - even against another student which snape says was just a “joke”.

I cannot find it reasonable to hate James for hating snape when snape was using dark magic and slurs on other students and clearly well on the way to being a death eater even in the early years. James learnt he took things too far as he grew up and began to avoid snape not wanting to provoke a fight, and snape would seek him out to attack him causing James to defend himself (ootp). This is not the actions of an innocent boy and his devilish bully this is a rivalry with the tensions of the war looming over them.

Also, the idea that snape was abused by his muggle father, and therefore it’s somehow okay that he became a death eater, is essentially a headcanon and a weird one. The only mention of his parents in the books is that they argue with each other and that his father is a generally miserable person- but not abusive. The idea of snape being whipped by his father came from a website, not the books or the movies or even written by jkr herself - it is therefore not canon. It is also so weird for people to try and justify snape becoming the equivalent of a Nazi because his father abused him and he happened to be a muggle, when snape grew up in a muggle neighbourhood and would have had many other experiences with muggles that were not abusive. It’s just nonsense.

Furthermore, trying to justify snape being a death eater by saying he had no other choice because he was a slytherin is again nonsense. Not every slytherin became a death eater and most people were not involved in the war based on the size of the order of the phoenix and the original named death eaters. Snape was not forced to be a death eater simply by proximity, he could have chosen to remain close to lily or other people who were not involved in the war- but he did not. He chose to be a death eater for the power and freedom to use dark magic, and because he was a blood purist as a younger man even if he grew out of it later in life.

Overall, it’s just not true to claim that the actions of James or anyone else are the reason snape “turned out” the way he did. The rivalry with James did not make snape turn out how he did because he was already like that before he even met James.

Snape is a very grey character, in my opinion more dark than light, and trying to justify his terrible behaviour by blaming everyone else takes away from the depth of his character and is also just not accurate to the canon.

[translatemunson]

can i have a cuddle, please?

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader blurb cw: i believe it can be read as gn!reader, but it was written with a female reader in mind (since i mention reader being smaller than rooster and wearing his clothes); overall fluff, a bit of sadness (but nothing major); lmk if i forgot anything.

You’ve been quiet. Ever since you arrived from your job, you haven't said much. A “hello” when you walked in, a “sure” when Bradley asked if you wanted pizza for dinner, a “thank you” when he served you a slice, and a “be right back” when your best friend called you in the middle of your Footloose rewatch.

He made himself comfortable, because, by the tone of your voice, it was gonna take a while. And he wasn’t gonna finish Footloose without you. So he reached for his phone, laid on the couch — taking the whole thing for himself —, checked the group chat with the Daggers, and started scrolling on social media. Ten minutes went by before you said your goodbyes to your friend, but it took you longer to come back to the living room. He picked up the book he was reading for a few weeks now — something about productivity or whatever coaching talk was there.

At one point, you were back. You looked so small wearing sweatpants and a sweater that was definitely his. Your shoulders were slumped forward, and your face was so blank he was wondering if there was some kind of soulsucking monster wandering around in the dark. It wasn’t like you to be this quiet, this distant.

“Hi, there.” He set the book aside.

“Can I have a cuddle, please?”

“Sure. Let’s make sure you are comfortable,” he said as you reached for him, throwing your legs over his, and laying on top of him. There was enough space for the two of you on the couch, but you still found him more comfortable than any pillow.

Bradley made sure his arms held you steady, one hand resting on your lower back, another one caressing your face. He could hold your weight, your sadness, your silence, because for him, you were everything. His everything. You nestled your head on the curve of his neck, low enough to hear his heartbeat.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” He pulled you closer, adjusting himself under you. Every little movement, and you clinged to his side more and more. “We can play the version where you always say one of the actors looks like me. Hm?”

He tried to get a reply. He gently removed the hair from your face, but your position made it harder for him to see if you’re paying attention.

“Are you asleep, kid?” You hid deeper into his body. “How did you fall asleep so fast? I swear, the only time I pass out this quickly is when I come back from a deployment and all I wanna do is be with you.”

He checked the time, just a little past eight. You looked so comfortable he was afraid the simple motion to move you to the bed would disrupt your peace. “You’re really sleeping, aren’t you?”

Bradley stretched his arm and got hold of his phone. His right hand held you firmly by your waist, feeling you pushing your legs higher. “Wanna go to bed? Make any sound and I’ll take you there.”

You were silent as you’ve been since you got home. He kissed your forehead, and promised “Thirty minutes. After that, I’m waking you up and we are finishing the movie.” He proceeded to spend his time on his phone, texting Nat to check if she knew what caused your bad mood, and then having to deal with the group chat making plans for the weekend. If things stayed the same, he was definitely taking the rain check because you would require his full attention.

“Roo? Bradley?” The words were rolling out of your tongue just like you were leaving a deep state of sleep, slowly.

“Hey.” He pressed his lips on your temple. “Feeling better?”

“A little. What time is it?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Really?” You rubbed your eyes. “Did you—”

“Waiting for you, kid.” He didn’t want to let you go from his reach, but you seemed better after a power cuddle.

You stood up and stretched out your limbs, yawning loudly. Bradley sat down, putting his arms around your middle and resting his chin against you, looking up. “Wanna finish the movie?”

“Yeah, just gonna brush my teeth and get us some blankets.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Need something?”

“Just for you to feel better.”

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning, ok?”

“Ok.”

Bradley had a feeling you weren’t gonna finish the movie. You came back from your room with blankets and pillows, and you snugged your way into his arms again, covering you both with the biggest blanket. Even if you knew Bradley ran hot, you wanted extra comfort. He pressed play, and while he ran his fingers through your hair, he could tell you were falling asleep again. Slowly rolling into the deep state of resting.

He held the promise you would tell him everything in the morning. He would do anything to make you feel better.

Not much later, he was also asleep on the couch. Footloose playing in the background until the end credits. Somewhere into the night, you woke up, but seeing Bradley peacefully sleeping, you just decided the couch and his body were more comfortable than the bed.

a/n: the people voted, and they shall recieve! small blurb inspired by a tiktok @live-love-be-unique sent me a few weeks ago. i have an ongoing bradley bradshaw x reader fic, it's called death defying acts and you can read it HERE. hope you liked this blurb! i'll post the other blurb/oneshot before the new year! see ya soon

[drowning-moonlight]

On the Separation of the Straw Hat Crew during Sabaody Archipelago and its Effect on the Story

So when I first got into One Piece back in July of 2023, I already knew a couple of plot points that were going to happen. I just didn't know exactly when those things would happen and how they affected other plot points down the line.

Some of the things that I knew would happen but didn't know when were: the crew getting separated, the death of Luffy's brother Ace, and a two year time skip.

I knew these things would happen before I started reading the manga, I just did not know at which points in the manga these things would happen. I did not know they happened one right after the other. I did not know how these events all lead into each other.

I did not know that the order of events went: the crew is separated -> thus Luffy is alone at Marineford and isn't strong enough to save Ace -> so he decides to take a two year break from piracy to train and become stronger.

These events all lead into each other in ways that I did not know going into the manga. And that makes these events all the more painful because I thought Luffy would be with his crew when Ace died so that they could comfort him.

Like before reading, I genuinely thought that the crew would have a big group hug or something, to be a shoulder to cry on for Luffy once Ace died. And that! didn't happen! And it HURTS SO MUCH.

The crew is separated by Bartholomew Kuma at Sabaody. This event traumatized Luffy and as a reader, I remember being hit with the knowledge that "oh, yeah, this is the event other fans talk about when referencing the crew being separated." This is probably the lowest point for Luffy so far in the series. Unmatched until Ace's literal death at Marineford. And since I didn't know the order of events when I started reading, I had assumed wrong when I thought that the other Straw Hats would be there to comfort Luffy when Ace died. I was so very wrong.

I will never forget the sinking realization that I had while reading the manga that Luffy would be alone when Ace got killed. And I say "alone" as in he was without the rest of the Straw Hat Crew. I know Jinbei, Iva and the Okamas, Hancock, the Whitebeard pirates, etc were there supporting him but he was alone for all intents and purposes because his crew wasn't there. Not because they didn't want to be there with him of course but because Kuma had forcibly separated them. It turned out that Kuma had good intentions with that but it did still leave Luffy "alone" for the most traumatic moment of his life. I will never forget the dread I felt while reading Impel Down and Marineford proper when I figured out that the crew would not be reuniting any time soon.

Learning that the separation of the crew made Luffy feel weak made it make sense for me why he decided to take a two year break to train. I had wondered what the point of the time-skip was before I had gotten to that point. But it all made sense now.

And it makes Luffy's desperate loneliness at the separation hurt all the more.

Luffy realizes what he still has left. His crew. Even though they were separated. He wants to reunite with them and thinks back to how Ace asked them to take care of him. Luffy knows he's in good hands even though his big brother is dead now. But his crew is far away.

And it all circles back around to them being separated on Sabaody. Separated by Kuma. Who had to become a Warlord because Ace himself had taken out a previous Warlord, leaving a spot open for Kuma to be forced into and later separate the Straw Hats.

This whole sequence of events all lead into each other in ways I could have never predicted.

If Ace had never defeated that previous Warlord, then Kuma might not have ever been made a Warlord to replace him. Then Kuma wouldn't have been there in Sabaody to separate the Straw Hats. Then Luffy wouldn't have been "alone" at Marineford when Ace died. It's all connected.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Laungue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?—To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mourful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[pureshoney]

"i think i'm sweet … i suck your dick like i need it to breathe. does it get any sweeter than that?" she points out with raised brows as if she's making the most obvious case in the world. as if that point itself doesn't prove just how much of a vixen she actually is. "i could be both things at once. i'm a brat, but i'm also sweet. like when i cook for you, and you don't even eat it because you're too busy fingering me, that's also really sweet," throws him a saccharine smile, enough to give him a cavity. "i mean … if you really want to, you could see my face when you're spanking me. we could do it in front of the mirror next time? but it's not semantics; you just don't want to admit that i made a good argument," hues roll backward teasingly. this whole punishment thing really was a benefit to her, but a detriment to keenan. because truthfully, she doesn't think that there's any disciplining that the male could dole out that her twisted mind wouldn't enjoy. "no, don't worry about it, baby. i'll make sure i make it your thirty-fifth birthday gift. i'll have them engrave my name in them so you always remember me," the thought of the male at work and grazing his fingers over his hip bones only to feel imprints on it that spelled out dylan was enough to make her laugh. "then i'll always be calling you a good boy," while words upfront had salacious they had a deeper meaning. keenan always made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world, allowed her to be true to herself without the judgement she experienced from everyone else in her life. "mhm … sir," head nods in sync with the way her hips rise and drop, sopping pussy clenching around his cock. "i love riding you," almost as much as the blonde loves him, but that's better kept to herself for now. eyes never leave his while she's dragging his hand toward her warmth, "i do, i want you to fucking ruin me. make me cry while i bounce on your dick," kittenish cry bubbles out of slender neck when talented fingers brush over her throbbing clit, swallowing around the growing lump in her throat as she feels digit pushing in alongside his cock. "o- oh my god," head lulls backward just before a loud cry rolls out. nails dig into the toned abdomen, continuing to bounce up and down on her mans cock once cunt is finished adjusting to the extra girth. "yeah? you wanna hear?" queries with a seductive giggle, hints of pleasure seeping through her voice. "first i start fucking myself with my toy," leaning back, femme raises her hands to instead rest them on his thighs wanting to give homme a better look at how pretty her cunt looks with both his dick and finger sheathed inside her. "and then i use my fingers … next i wanna practice getting b- both your dick and my toy inside," femme lessens her pace just slightly, wanting to get a real feel for just how good it feels to have him stretching her out, feel each inch and throbbing vein in his girth. "put another one, please … sir. i can take it."

she was partially right, around dylan he felt at ease, comfortable and unwilling to even think about what he did when they spent their time apart and when work wasn't calling him in. but it was a little more complex than just having an attitude, his temper was slow to bubble, something he'd achieved through working at a dive bar that got scum customers on a regular basis — but when it did reach a boiling point it was bloody and unforgiving, something he never showed dylan. "you are my bratty princess, don't know if i'd describe you as sweet . . . at least not all the time", homme remarks with a grin, "but you're the brattiest dyl, if you think for even a second that you're not it just means i haven't spanked you hard enough." maybe he should take that saintly dildo of hers and stuff it down her throat, a mild attempt at getting his girl to realise what a vixen she was. "besides, everyone has a switch and if they say they don't they either liars or priests", counters with a swift nod, if only she knew just how dangerous he became when that switch of his did get flipped — he would never harm a single hair on her head, he knew that much for certain, but if dylan found out just who he was it could hurt her in a completely different way. "that's semantics, plus i can't see your face wet with tears when you're bent over my lap now can i? it's fun spanking you and listening to you mess up, but if i really want to punish my little slut i'm gonna make sure i can see that beautiful face while it happens." normally after a spanking session keenan couldn't resist sinking himself into her drenched heat, probably negating the whole damn punishment. it wasn't his fault his girl was a little twisted when it came to pain and pleasure, he just leaned in to it. "wow okay i am very offended by that, hip replacements are expensive baby — do you think i should start saving now?" male jokes with a faux contemplative expression. "i'd break my hips just to see you open the door to me in that outfit again, princess. made me want to just eat you instead of the food." which he assumes had been the purpose, tempt him in to forgetting about her meticulously rolled out and shaped pasta and dough. "yeah? i feel like i'm due some praise every now and then, princess. so go ahead, call me a good boy when i've made you feel like the luckiest girl on earth." it was how she made him feel, after all. as if someone above them all had decided that keenan deserved one good thing in life, one pure source of happiness that made him believe that the world wasn't completely fucked up. "sir?" balls tighten at the little nickname, a whoosh of air leaving his lungs. "kinda like that, princess . . . almost as much as like you bouncing on my dick." the way her walls clamped around his slick length was torturous in how amazing it felt, how perfect her body looks riding him like it's all she'll ever want. tongue darts out to wet his lips, allowing her to guide his hand down to that damp cunt. "oh . . . damn princess, you wanna get stuffed like that?" it's overwhelming, how hot her pussy feels under his fingertips alongside the way she takes him so sweetly. "want me to ruin this pretty cunt, huh? stretch it out until you cry those pretty tears for me?" he's eager but refrains from acting swiftly, instead circling her clit lightly before delving down. beginning to push his index finger in alongside his cock keenan groans, digit brushing against his own length as her walls shudder around the extra girth. "fuckin' hell dyl, you've been practicing this? how? tell me."

[momentomori24]

[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

[chirpsythismorning]

There isn't much discourse about how Mike went from saying that El was a weapon in s1, even encouraging the others to use El's powers when she was still recuperating after finding Will in the void, to then in s3 accusing the others of being reckless with her powers, saying she's risking her life for no reason.

Now, I want to make clear that I'm not bashing Mike here, this has less to do with what he's doing being right or wrong. What this is about is how Mike went from doing something himself, to calling out other people for doing it, without acknowledging that fact and why the writers chose to frame it all this way.

You might think it's insignificant, but these two following scenes are clearly being paralleled to each other. And so the fact that Mike himself is acknowledging this as something to be critical of, makes me wonder what exactly is going on in his mind...

I want to preface this scene from s1 by saying that Mike is giving very off vibes here. I know that I certainly viewed this scene as romantic the first time I saw it, but since rewatching it recently, I was getting completely different vibes.

They literally make a point to focus on Mike being distracted, on the verge of impatience. Then, the way El reacts upon Mike getting up abruptly, gives this feeling of uncertainty about Mike's consideration for her in this moment, as she's clearly not what's on the top of his mind right now. And it just makes you wonder, are we truly supposed to be feeling peak romance rn?

I never realized how out of place this scene was until now (or is it...). It's just such an odd choice to have El resting her head on Mike's shoulder for comfort, only for Mike to cut it short with him being distracted, and with Dustin and El looking awkwardly at Mike like "Okay?...", then followed by a scene where he's trying to convince the others to use El's powers to help.

Here we have s1 Mike displaying behavior that s3 Mike was calling out the others for displaying:

Here we have Lucas, who was very, very critical of El being dangerous ALL of s1, and yet now in complete contrast to that, he is showing more consideration and common sense for El's well being than Mike, the supposed love (at first sight) interest ...

'That's the most important thing, remember?'

A question, followed by Mike just standing there in silence, like he's only just now really thinking about El being safe as their main priority... This is something that combined with everything else unfolding over the course of this season and the seasons after, that makes Mike's behavior a whole lot easier to understand.

I'll have to make several other posts about this, because there are a lot of aspects to it, but for now I'm just going to focus on these two parallels.

Here we have what happens in s3, with Mike being critical of the others doing something he himself literally did in s1:

In fact, how careless all of you are.

THIS. When Mike makes it a big deal to call out everyone for doing something he himself has already done, he's outright admitting that it's something that he believes is wrong, and by not even slightly acknowledging his role in doing something similar in the past, it's very likely that he feels guilty about it.

This was probably his way of trying to make it right, by standing up for El in a way that he didn't before because he was treating her like some superhero and not a real person back then.

It's just that the word love slipped out, in the heat of the moment. And El, upon overhearing this, is seeing this development of Mike herself, with s1 Mike going from, yes being more kind and considerate than the other 2 boys in the beginning, but still sort of expecting stuff from her without her being able to verbally agree to it, to now having developed and changed to saying that one of his big priorities is her safety.

El is taking this as being evidence he went from not loving her, to loving her. Another reason why it's pretty obvious El didn't believe Mike's monologue, bc she herself witnessed Mike develop his apparent romantic feelings for her over time, and so him saying it was love at first sight, was probably the catalyst that made it abundantly clear to her that he wasn't being truthful, bc she knows it's not the truth. She's not stupid.

Again this isn't about Mike doing this back then or even the others doing it now as being bad vs. good, this is about the writers going about it this way, sending a message that Mike feels guilt, enough to try to make things right, but is apparently not ready to unpack the actual guilt that is beneath the surface which lead him to this point.

And then there's this scene, which... it's actually terrifying how obvious it is they instructed Sadie and Caleb to lean out of that shot with Will and Mike reacting to El entering the room... Like... It's SOO obvious when you watch it now what they're trying to hint at without saying it.

Not only are they hinting at Will's feelings, because that is part of it, they're also hinting at Mike's internal struggle. Will is always on the back of his mind whether he's willing to address it or not. And all while that is happening, he is feeling unaddressed guilt about how he treated El when they first met and spent that one week together helping her run away from the bad guys while also looking for Will, something Mike viewed as being worthy of El using her powers...

I'll have to make the other posts regarding this soon, because it all starts to click what's going on with Mike when you look at all of these things together.

While Mike is just a kid like pretty much everyone else in this story, and while he didn't mean any harm by asking El to help them find Will (none of them did), I think that's kind of the whole point?

I think that he got lucky superman landed on his doorstep, who just so happened to be in danger herself, giving him his own purpose to help her too, with her needing him as well, and so it became a situation where they both needed each other.

But because El could literally not speak, it's not like she could really voice her feelings about things they were doing, beyond yes and no. She had Lucas sort of being critical of her, with Mike encouraging El to do things that would make the others see her as being worthy of sticking around so they can find Will. It goes without saying she felt obligated to do these things, even if they didn't outright tell her she had to or else. We literally see almost all of these scenes with her doing stuff for the others being instantly juxtaposed with scenes of Brenner doing the same. It's not the same scale of severity, but it is an acknowledgment that although she is outside of the lab, she still feels like her powers are what define her and it's all people want from her.

I think what it comes down to, is that in that moment when she is sacrificing herself to the demogorgan at the end of s1, we are seeing in real time Mike realizing what he and the other's have been asking of her this whole time, without outright asking her.

And you can literally see the retaliation and devastation hit him all at once. The instant regret, where he's backtracking and El stops him from even trying.

'Goodbye Mike' singles him out, because while he was the one out of the three that showed her the most kindness from the start, he was also the one who at the end of it all, was still expecting her to risk her life for them...

And that just makes it hit so much harder when you think about how that made Mike feel in that moment.

And then in s2 how that impacts Mike and his journey going forward.

His breakdown at the end of s2 upon her return.

His behavior in s3-4, in relation to him juggling his relationship with Will and El, now that they are both in his life at the same time.

It all starts to make sense.

I won't go too much into it because those other posts are bound to be long with a bunch of pictures too!

But on that note, there's at least one thing Mike isn't acknowledging, and it's literally what led up to the unintentional love confession that then led us to 10 more episodes of miscommunication because of it...

It's going to be important for him to address this guilt for him to fulfill his arc and to also close off his expectations that he has to have a romantic relationship with El in order to keep her in his life at all.

The audience themselves seeing this and being forced to face it is also going to make it a lot easier for them understand why Mike did what he did, not only because he's a queer kid in the 80's who has every reason to doubt and repress, but also because he understandably feels sort of indebted to El after everything.

It's more complex than him just falling out of love with her and falling in love with Will because of XYZ.

I think there is a lot of guilt and shame and trauma connected to their meeting and the events that followed. And addressing that is going to give a lot of closure to the ending of the story and also the beginning.

[crowlore]

man. been thinkin bout this sleeping arrangement

do you think the twins slept in rem's bed the entire year or only after tesla

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.