#look this could be so much worse honestly

[quilitain]

I'm a guy who managed to avoid falling into that alt-right pipeline and honestly? I can understand why so many men succumb to it. I don't agree with their choice, I don't support the hurt they inflict on others and I try to guide people away when I get the chance, but I've been on the edge of that abyss and I understand how easy it is to fall.

Growing up, over and over I'd hear women, women I considered friends, women I looked up to and respected and wanted to learn from talk about the horrors of men, how awful, wretched, repulsive, hurtful, and just plain evil they were. How uncomfortable they made them, how uneasy and afraid.

And I learned. And I listened. And I internalized those lessons.

Yes, at no time were they ever directing their comments at me, but at the same time, never did they seem to care that their words were hurting me either. And when I do speak up I'm usually met with some variation of "oh we didn't mean you" or more commonly "oh if you're not like that you shouldn't be offended".

I've gotten to a point where I am ashamed of my gender. I'm ashamed of being a man, of being born into a gender that causes that much pain and suffering. I feel disgusted and repulsed by my own body, I suppressed my romantic feelings so much that I had a mental breakdown when I finally did develop feelings for someone because I was so repulsed by myself and afraid that I would become just another man like the ones I'd heard so much about. I don't want to change gender, I just don't want to be seen as a violent monster just because I share a gender with some people who act that way.

Even now the general atmosphere I get from the very liberal spaces on the Internet I like to hang out in is that I'm not welcome there. I am tolerated, but I am, at best, an enemy turncoat. A potential threat that just isn't actively dangerous. A monster on a leash. I do see small spots of improvement, but the people pushing back usually deliberately, explicitly make exceptions for men. I see TERFs getting called out, but their arguments that AMAB are inherently violent and dangerous to women get parroted around without irony so long as they only specify cis men. I see callout posts promoting and encouraging masculinity and acceptance of masculinity, but only for transmascs or butch women. And like, these are good movements, I support them wholeheartedly and have pretty much made peace with the fact that they are aimed at people who have it a lot worse off than I do. But at the same time it doesn't feel great to once again be told that "everyone is valid and worthy of love, except you".

If you grow up being made to feel that way, isolated, othered, monstrous, and don't yet realize the true motivations of the majority of right-wing "support" groups it becomes incredibly easy for them to lure you in, and once you're isolated and immersed in their echo chamber it's incredibly difficult to escape.

No, it isn't on liberals to coddle and reassure men, but maybe some effort could be made to treat them with the same nuance and understanding we reserve for literally anyone else?

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[njm63522]

Sevika fluff alphabet

word count: 2027

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A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

- personally, I think she'd often indulge in taking you to the last drop. She often has you propped up on her lap while she laughes at the men gambling away their life savings (she likes to call you her lucky charm)

- honestly, she'd be willing to take you anywhere though. Just as long as everyone knows you're hers. She'll keep a hand in your back pocket as you guys walk around the city and she'll give nasty looks to whatever man decides to even glance your way.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

- SHE LOVES YOUUUUU omg.

-she literally admires every part of your body. She would rather choke and die then have to pick a favorite.

- and she LOVESS to pick you up. You think you're too heavy? Don't flatter yourself. Not for her you're not.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

- I Hate to be that guy, but I don't think she would be the best at comforting. With words atleast.

-she'll probably give you a nice hug or a pat on the back. But if you start crying, she'll literally freeze and give you an awkward "you alright..?"

-it's not that she doesn't care, she's just bad at showing how much she does care.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

- living in a place like Zaun, where the future is so unpredictable and anyone could die at any moment. She just wants keep things in the present and not think about the future.

-If it were up to her, she would take you far away from all they chaos and just grow old together

-but that may never happen. so for now, she just wants to see you alive in the future.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

- she's definitely more on the dominant side, she's the one wrapping a hand around your waist in public and mean mugging everyone who dares look at you the wrong way

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

-if you guys end up fighting, it'd most likely be about her work

-weather it's how long she's gone during the day, or how she always comes back with curs and bruises. You guys always find a way back to eachother

If you're the one who apologizes:

She gives you a stupid ass grin, she knew she was right. She definitely wouldn't rub it in your face or anything. But she will be a bit smug about it

If she's the one to apologize:

-She'll be extremely sheepish, it's almost laughable how she's reduced to a stuttering mess when she's the one apologizing.

-I really dont think she'd be the best with words, so she'd just trap you in a tight hug and mutter an apology into your ear.

-if you don't accept her apology— worse, reject her hug. She'll be so confused and lost, giving you big ol' puppy eyes while she uses her words to express how sorry she is.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

-once again, SHE LOVES YOUUUU

-i don't think there's enough words to explain how happy she is to have you.

-sometimes, when the sun is just beginning to rise and she's dreading the long workday ahead of her. shell spend just a little while longer in bed admiring your sleeping frame. shed never admit it, but on mornings like those, she thanks her lucky stars to have you sleeping next to her.

-she was never a religious person, but she thanks god that she has you next to her every night.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

-she wouldn't hide anything from you, she believes that the only way to have a good relationship is to be fully open and transparent, even if that leads to you a tad bit oversharing.

-there are some details she may not be able to share because of her work. but 9/10 times, shell tell you anyways because she loves you or whatever

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

-she would NEVER admit it, but you changed her for the better.

-she's definitely gotten soft ever since you guys started dating. getting in less fights with strangers, going out to gamble less.

-just overall spending more time with you, and not in the chaos of Zaun.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

-she gets jealous so easily omg. she wont even hesitate to beat up strangers on the street just for looking at you the wrong way.

-god forbid a man tries to FLIRT with you?

-youd have to ask her to stop before she literally killed the poor guy.

-ever since that incident, everyone at the bar knows to stay far away from you.

K iss - Are they a good kisser?

-shes definitely an experienced kisser. she's been with many women before getting with the love of her life (you)

-her kisses are rough, almost always leaving you breathless and desprate for more.

-shell tangle one hand in your hair, and use the other one to pull you closer by the waist URGG

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

-like i said previously, she's not the best with her words, so shed probably just approach you in the bar after watching (and lokwey stalking) you for a few months and say something like "you and me, this Friday. 5 pm. don't be late" before walking away.

-you'd show up and find her sitting alone at a table with a messy bouquet of flowers in her hand (she picked them herself)

-shed give you the flowers and spend the rest of the night trying to make conversation with a deep blush on her face. (she's such a cutie oml)

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

-this ones a bit complicated...

-shed love to take you away from that city and propose to you in a gorgeous flower field that goes on for miles.

-but something like that isn't achievable in the current state of the world

-so instead, she stares at you from across the room, dreaming about giving you everything you deserve.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

-her lucky charm (like i said before)

-baby

-i don't think shell use a lot of nicknames.. once again, not good with words.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

-im telling you right now

-she literally looks like she wants to murder you when shes crushing on you.

-remember when i mentioned her watching you from across the bar? yeah, you spent that time thinking she hated you because of the way she stared at you.

-you literally thought she was going to assault you when she came up to ask you out.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

-be prepared to have her constantly brag about you.

-if youre not sitting on her, youre sitting directly next to her with her arm around you.

-shes weird in a way that she wont tell you directly how much she loves you, but she wont shut up about it to everyone else.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

-this isnt really an ability, just more of a thing she does

-but i think shed be willing to eat ANYTHING

-its amazing the stuff her stomach can handle.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

-she loves to make you happy, but shes so SO nervous.

-she would show up to your house at 2 am with a boquet of flowers in her hand and ask if you want to hang out with her.

-shed take you shopping in topside and if you even look at something twice, shell buy it for you.

-shes lowkey useless when it comes to buying clothes because she thinks everything looks so pretty on you

"should i get the red, or the white one?"

"get both"

"but which one looks better?"

"... both?"

-shes so useless, but shes trying her best.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

-i feel like it depends on what kind of goal it is, if its something unrealistic, she would try to gently coax you into something more achievable because shed hate to see you get hurt.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

-in the chaos that is her life. you're the only thing that can remain the same. so I think shed prefer to keep routine with you. however, she wouldn't be mad if things changed from time to time, she's happy if you're happy.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

-she knows you so well. everything you've mentioned or talked about. even in passing. she's taken a mental note of.

-you could breifly mention how youre into a peice of jewerly or an article of clothing.

-and you'd find it on your bed, tied up with a little bow the next day.

-she wouldn't bring up the gift unless you say something first though, she's js nonchalant like that

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

-this woman would lay down her life for you.

-she loves you SOOOOO much

-there's not much more i can say, you're the beginning and end of her life

-and she loves you

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

hear me out. (slight s2 spoilers)

-no matter how much she pretends to hate jinx, shed bring up adopting her and isha.

-it might sound ridiculous, but shed love to be a mother one day and she basically raised jinx so why not?

-she tried to brush away the idea from her mind

-but the moment she sees you placing bowls of soup Infront of the kids (jinx and isha) reminding them to wait for it to cool down

-she finds herself thinking that she could get used to this.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

-shes such a cuddlebig omg

-the moment you guys start cuddling, she wont let go for HOURSSS

-sometimes, shell randomly lay on top of you, full starfish, and fall asleep.

-you have to accept your fate, i fear.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

-long answer short?

-she doesnt.

-whenever she leaves for a long time, shell bring a shirt of yours just to smell it and remember it.

-it lowkey sounds creepy, but shes so lonely without you :(

the very moment she gets back, shell pratically jump on you and attack you with cuddles and kisses

-did i mention she loves you?

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

-SHELL DO ANYTHING FOR YOUUUU

-she loves you (can you tell i ran out of ideas?)

__________________________________

i finished this in one sitting, im so proud :3

requests open

[vampiresbloodx]

Enemy. chapter one.

pairings: Jinx x reader, vi x caitlyn, various characters.

synopsis: when you, a tired full time bartender who gets paid shit and lives in a small one bedroom apartment gets sucked into the world and battles that are happening around you all at once, you just wish you could remain blissfully unaware, you'd prefer not to know others business, as it's never good, then you meet a girl named jinx, and you grow more and more attached, which has always been an issue for you, to make things worse, you not only have to make sure neither of your friends kill each other while being stuck in the middle.

word count: 907.

warnings: fluff angst suggestive themes, adult jinx still canon season 2 but not really I fear idk her confirmed age so just putting it out there, canon typical violence, found family, PTSD, pain, alcohol, reader is a bartender, mutual pinning, hurt/comfort, arcane season 2 spoilers!!!!.

Jinx. 

The name you are starting to hear a lot as of late, you’ve always heard whispers of her, some call her silco’s daughter, you could honestly almost believe the story yourself when you look at them standing by each other. 

But you know the truth more than others know. 

You weren’t even sure of your own part in the story here, in everyone else’s lives, Jinx stuck around you because she wanted to, and she claimed to like you, a lot, so much so that you ended up one day coming home and finding her laying on your bed, like it was nothing, knowing you did not mention where you stayed at all to really anyone. 

“Is this your place? Cool.” 

Jinx murmured, unbothered as there was a curious look in her eyes as she looked everywhere, going through your stuff without asking for permission, as you rolled your eyes in annoyance at her. 

“Do you have to be any more of a creep?” you asked, slightly disappointed but not surprised by this. 

It's not like the two of you sit down and discuss your feelings to each other, how the other makes the other feel, what you really mean to another, nope, none of that. Anytime you even ask Jinx about anything she gets pissed and walks off in a huff, having an attitude towards you, blaming you all of a sudden, you see how her cheeks get red as she stutters her words more than usual, its cute, but you just wish you two would fucking talk. 

“Yup.” 

You watch as Jinx goes through your clothes, pulls out some underwear and your sports bras, holding them up as she winks at you, you stare back dumbfounded. 

“fucking put that back-” 

Then it became more frequent visits to your apartment, well the one shitty bedroom apartment you could afford in this hole, for a while, you worked as a bartender, still do, you were good at your job, making customers happy as you made their drinks and put a smile on their face, you met so many people, that’s how you’d regularly see Jinx. 

She’d come to your bar just to talk shit and complain about everything and everyone, but you always ended up enjoying her presence the more she came, she didn’t even ask when you will be off or when your shift started, she didn’t care about those details, because she knew that already, you called her a stalker and she laughed loudly like it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. 

Some days, Jinx bothered you more than anyone else could, you were so used to the solitied life that now you were longing for the connection of others. You hated it. The feeling that ate away at you, eating at your soul, your body, your flesh, your mind, heavily. And the one face you always saw that was a constant was her. 

And so, you grew attached. 

Unwillingly so.

She knew that, which is why she stayed around on purpose, because she knew how lonely you were deep down, you’d never admit it, but you like having her around, hearing her stupid jokes and her loud ass laughter, her non stop talking and rambling, it made everything less quiet, and it took your mind of a lot of things. That was kind of nice. 

You wondered if you were that to her as well. In a way. You weren’t sure. 

If you could grab her face by your hands and scream everything you wanted to say and more to her, you would. You just didn’t want to lose her. She could easily walk away and leave you behind, you couldn’t handle that. 

For a while, Jinx would randomly leave without a word for a couple of days, weeks even, you got sick of waiting for her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, wanting to hear her voice again, it never came, until you woke up one night at three am, trying to get a decent sleep in when you felt warmth next to you and arms wrapping around your body, you freaked, almost stabbing the girl with the knife you always hide underneath your pillow for safety reasons, she chuckled, “my girl, so feisty, just the way I like them” she murmured. You stared confused at her, this isn’t the first time she’s invited herself over for the night, but something about tonight felt different, instead of wanting to cuss her out, you watched her fall asleep, she looked so at peace, it was strange. 

The next day you woke up to her trying to cook you breakfast as you threw your pillows at her, still annoyed as she acted like nothing happened, laughing. 

Then she found out you were friends with a certain pink haired girl and her blue haired lover. 

What a small world it is. 

It was hard though, and still you were going to do it regardless, you didn’t care what happened to yourself, you care too much, too little, it was all consuming, overwhelming you, that Jinx hopes even she doesn’t break you. 

Before you even do that to yourself. how much of a mess you were in between choosing your friends, being on their side or Jinx’s side, watching them chase after each other like crazy, as there was you, in the middle, making sure neither of them get too close for your liking. 

[barnesandbarton]

Clint nodded.  “Yeah.  He definitely didn’t deserve anything they did to him.  And I know he carries around the burden of it too. Like it was his fault.  It sucks.  But selfishly I know if none of that happened, he wouldn’t be here.  I mean - don’t get me wrong - if I could change time and save him from it, I would, but I guess what I’m saying is, I’m glad this is the outcome.  You know?” 

He helped her finish setting the table and came and sat next to her.  “Yeah, I’m friends with most my exes.  There’s a few I don’t see at all, but just because life is like that.  And sometimes there’s a bit of awkwardness and hostility to begin with, but usually it comes good. I mean, a lot of them I end up having to work with, so I kind of need to make sure it smooths over.  But usually it’s just that there were a lot of feelings there and they don’t just vanish, you know?  Nat and I were together and it just wasn’t working that way, but she’s my best friend.  I didn’t want to lose that.”

He rubbed her back.  “But I haven’t been with anyone super toxic either.  So that’s a bonus.  I had one girlfriend who liked to slap me when she was angry at me.  I guess she watched too much drama television.  But she was the worse, and honestly I was the toxic one in that relationship if I look back at it.”

"Yeah, I get that choice. I guess it depends on what kind of trauma you have," she spoke honestly and smiled a bit as she sat down on the day bed and looked at him. She listened to his words and nodded a little bit. "Well, we all have done stuff we probably shouldn´t have," she spoke and nodded. "And with Bucky and HYDRA it´s just awful that people can do that to someone I will never understand that people can do stuff like that," she spoke and shook her head a little bit.

"I´m glad you and your ex-wife have a good relationship though. That´s important," she spoke and smiled a little bit. "Yeah, seeing how close you where that first night is what made me run, I was just not used to it so it made me uncomfortable. And to some degree it still does. I´m not used to having good things. Things has simply been bad and hard. But again, I´m very happy we are doing this and that you two want to let me into your relationship," she spoke and nodded a bit as she leans back on her hands.

[theresthesnitch]

As I have previously mentioned, I'm dedicating November to writing my Wolfstar Royal Arranged Marriage AU. It's making slow progress. Would you like a snippet? Of course you would.

Warning: this fic features Trans Remus, who is not out to anyone at the beginning. In this snippet, James and Sirius discuss Sirius's future spouse using feminine terms. Yes, this is Remus, but they don't know any better yet.

~*~

“So, wedding day jitters? What do you need? Warm socks for your feet? Have you met your lovely bride?”

“I’m not permitted to meet her,” Sirius says. “Apparently, it’s in case I run away first.” 

James walks back over, standing right next to Sirius and fixing him with knowing eyes. “Do you want to run away anyway?” 

“I can’t,” Sirius says. He looks toward James, a small, sad lift to his lips. “I have to have a queen to be the king, and my people need me.” 

James shakes his head. “You know I don’t get it, mate. Why does it have to be a woman? You would be much happier married to a man, and a happy king is a happy kingdom.” 

Sirius scoffs, clicking his tongue as he looks back in the mirror. “You think my happiness is part of the equation at all? Trust me, it’s not. No, most important is heirs, and a gay king married to a man can't make heirs, no matter how much the people may accept that I can love who I love.”

“It's shit,” James says. 

Sirius smiles at him. “It is. But no one ever said being king wasn't shit.” Sirius looks back at himself in the mirror. 

“Should come with some perks, though,” James says. “Like getting to decide who you love.” 

“There are perks! Not that one, of course. But there are definite perks.” Sirius turns around, facing James fully. “It’s fine, James. Royal marriages aren't about love. That was never really in the stars for me.”

James wrinkles his nose. “I guess you could always take after your father and have a consort or two to get you through your very heterosexual marriage.” 

Sirius grimaces. “I’d at least have the decency not to snuff it in his bed.” 

James cackles, clutching his chest. “That is never going to be not funny to me. Do you know if he died like while he was in him? It would be awful for what's his name but–” 

“Evan,” Sirius supplies. “And yes, I do know, and no, I do not want to talk about it.” 

James’s face lights up. “Oh, Circe’s hairy snatch, he was, wasn't he? Your dad was porking his little bed warmer when he kicked it. Please say yes; I need to know. My life will be incomplete otherwise. I mean, may his legacy last an eternity and all that, but I absolutely 

Sirius runs a hand over his face, trying to stifle his laughter. He shouldn't be laughing, but it is just so ridiculous. “No, no, he wasn’t.” Sirius snort-laughs again. “It’s worse. If Evan’s screams are anything to go by, Father was… being porked.” James immediately laughs, doubling over and holding his stomach, and Sirius can’t help but laugh with him. “I can’t believe you made me say that.” 

“I can’t believe it happened! Gods, imagine that. Old King Orion, being fucked by a twink.” That sets James off on another round of laughing. “I’m never going to get over this.” 

“I’m never going to get over the fact that I know this.” Sirius says. He groans. “Evan was wailing it in the hallway. Apparently it was… a while before he noticed.” 

James laughs again, this time falling on the ground. “This might be the best day of my life.” 

Sirius suddenly sobers. “Can’t say the same, honestly.”

[randomingoftherandomness]

Hello, a fic on pretty Zhuyan in Pretty Dress with jealous zyc and other members being protective fending off people ? 😅💖

A/N: I’m waiting for my meds to kick in so there may be some typos and shit here, but I thought I would take a stab at this while trying to calm my allergies ✌🏼 Thanks for the prompt Nonnie! Hope you enjoy this x

—

There was no way they were letting Xiao Jiu be the bait. Not when he had blinked so sweetly and tilted his head to ask them, “What’s a gentlemen’s club?”

Ying Lei was also out of the question because… Well. There’s no fooling anyone with that mane of his.

Herself and Pei Sijing are the wrong genders for this task, which left the toss up between Zhao Yuanzhou and Xiao Zhuo. Something that the demon quickly ended with a smile that was very much all-knowing and a curious sparkle in his eyes that never broke when he looked at Xiao Zhuo as he took the pile of clothes, and winked at the blushing commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau.

If Wen Xiao didn’t know better, she’d have thought that the great demon had some trick up his sleeve.

And when he finally emerged from the room all dressed up, the thought had stuck in the backs of her teeth. Even if the first thing that slipped off her lips was an awed, “Are you sure you weren’t born a succubus?”

Zhao Yuanzhou tittered at that.

Wen Xiao was sure that she had seen it all when it come to this strange mating dance between her old friend and the great demon — the little trinkets the demon likes to leave for Xiao Zhuo, the small teasings that were just as earnest as the quiet promises, or the lingering touches in battle that Wen Xiao isn’t even sure they both were aware they were doing.

All that and more, yet none of it could prepare her for the way Xiao Zhuo stood absolutely stock still at the sight of Zhao Yuanzhou veiled and dressed in the finest courtesan silk they could procure at such short notice. Pale fabric trails behind him as he walks right up to Xiao Zhuo and the in the weak autumn sunlight, Zhao Yuanzhou peers up with smiling eyes.

"Do I look pretty, Xiao Zhuo-daren?"

It takes a strong woman to resist the temptation to smack her brow when Xiao Zhuo promptly blushed a distinct shade of red at the way Zhao Yuanzhou eased his body against his own.

Certainly, even Wen Xiao herself isn't immune to pretty things, but the very obvious way that Xiao Zhuo is gawking and sputtering at the great demon proves that he is the right man for the job.

"If the two of you are very much done trying to commit acts of indecency in front of a child, let's get this show on the road." Wen Xiao delicately coughs into her hand, shaking her head at how Ying Lei's efforts to cover Xiao Jiu's eyes are met with the boy-genius whining that he has seen much worse than two people flirting, why thank you very much.

Taking Pei-daren by the hand, she leads their merry band of misfits out to the waiting carriage. But not before spying on the gentle softening of Zhao Yuanzhou's gaze and Xiao Zhuo's answering tilt of his head. There's a quick touch from the demon to Xiao Zhuo's wrist. Barely there before he is walking ahead and Xiao Zhuo is following behind with pursed lips and a determined grip to his sword.

Wen Xiao calculates the risk that there'll be some lecherous fool losing a finger or two tonight if they get too handsy with a certain commander's demon. Internally strategizing, she factors in the need to keep their Xiao Zhuo-daren calm and as un-murderous as possible when Zhao Yuanzhou inevitably flirts his way too close to the sun.

Honestly.

Was the great demon part nine-tailed fox or something?

[maybank5]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭)

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ you and jj have never gotten along; sworn enemies since childhood. so why is then, when he shows up with bruises, you want to burn the entire world down for this boy?

tags and such: abuse, mentions of abuse, fluff, comfort, walks on the beach, mutual crushes, jj calling you 'mama'

a/n ⤜ needing some comfort jj fics in my life right now, and i'm sure i'm not alone in that. enjoy! also this was supposed to just be a little drabble, but she kinda took on a life of her own. not complaining though lol

song inspo ⤜ any kyla la grange song

word count ⤜ 4k+

JJ Maybank - the bane of your existence. Ever since he had trampled your sandcastle on the playground back when you were seven, you couldn't stand him. And one trampled sandcastle had set the stage for ten years of torment at the hands of this boy. He seemed to revel in making your life miserable. He wouldn't be JJ Maybank if he wasn't pulling your hair or teasing you or shoulder-checking you in the hallway. And you wouldn't be you if you didn't put your hands on your hips and glare at him, shouting after him a scolding, "Oh grow up!" that was only ever met with that laugh of his that seemed to bounce of the cinderblock walls of the school halls.

You had come to realize sometime around sophomore year that you and JJ Maybank were destined to be enemies. You found yourself looking forward to the school day, to see just how he'd try to fuck with you, and to scold him and hear that damn laugh. Your friends couldn't understand it; why the two of you always seemed to seek each other out, despite your mutual hatred. "You wouldn't get it," you'd say with a shrug. JJ Maybank was your mortal enemy, but you honestly couldn't imagine your school day, your life, without him in it.

JJ is no stranger to a fight. He's always getting into something with the kooks from Figure Eight. It's not out of the norm for him to show up to school with a busted lip or black eye. He always shrugs it off, brags about how the other guy "looks much worse." You roll your eyes and shake your head. He's never seriously hurt though, so you don't worry too much. It's not like you lose sleep over JJ Maybank. Still, you can't help the relief you feel that shoots through you like a drug whenever he laughs off the bruises or black eyes.

But today is different. Yesterday, JJ wasn't in school. Not that unusual of an occurrence. But today, JJ shows up to school with his face a galaxy of purples and yellows. Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighted with a lead anchor. This wasn't just the result of a spat between a Pogue and a Kook. He looked like he'd been jumped and you spend the entire morning following him with your eyes. You want to go over and check on him, press your palm to his cheek, and ask what happened, make sure he's okay. But that's not you and JJ. Instead, you hug your books tighter to your chest and follow him down the halls with your gaze. All you want to do is run after him, check on him. It makes no sense. You know he probably just got in another fight. JJ was always stirring up some type of trouble. But he didn't have the usual laugh or smile this time. His eyes looked almost hallow, broken. It made your heart feel heavy in your chest. You could barely focus in class, all your thoughts drifting to JJ Maybank and those haunting bruises. They were like ghosts in your head.

At the end of the day, JJ was swinging his backpack onto his shoulder with a wince, about to hop into his truck with you surprised yourself. Instead of catching a ride with your friend Sarah, you find yourself running across the parking lot to his beat up, rusted old truck.

"JJ!" You call.

His head whips around, brows furrow when he sees you. Then, that lazy smirk spreads painfully across the snagged and scabbed lip, "Y/N," he says in that lazy, bemused kind of way of his, that let's you know you're in for something, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

You want to scold him like you would normally. Instead, you freeze. You don't know what to say that doesn't include some sort of spat or dig. Instead, all you want to do is pull him close to you and hold him in your arms and it makes no damn sense.

"You weren't in school yesterday," you settle for saying.

"Astute observation, Sherlock."

Your stomach flips a little, excitedly like it does before a fight with JJ Maybank; like you were born for these little interactions. Instead, you take a breath and try your best to push through the wall he's putting up. "I just...I wanted to make sure you're okay?"

"When am I ever not okay?" JJ asks, pushing the blonde hair off his forehead with a practiced flick of his hand.

You sigh. He's deflecting. Of course he is. When does JJ Maybank ever take anything seriously. You don't know why it bothers you so much, but you need him to know. You need him to know that you care, that you're in his corner. You'd fight against him a thousand times over, but when he shows up looking like this, all you want to do is fight at his side and burn down the world for him. You know it doesn't make sense, but when did anything regarding JJ Maybank make sense.

You decide to meet him where he's put you. "Just seen you prettier, that's all," you say with a shrug. If he wants to deflect and be snarky, you can do that too. If snark is his comfort zone, you can meet him there.

JJ tugs the corner of his bottom lip between those feline-like teeth of his. He's amused, and it makes you happy to know you made him smile. Or rather, JJ's version of a smile.

"You worried about me, darlin'?" He drawls.

"If someone roughs you up too badly, who do I have to fight with?" You ask, and JJ laughs. Your stomach dips with the weight of the butterflies that have filled it.

JJ pushing his hair back again, smirk still playing on his lip, "Don't worry, darlin', nothin' can stop me from fighting with you. It's my favorite part of my day."

You cross your arms, fighting the smile on your face as you shake your head. "You're impossible," you say.

"And you love it," he says. You don't realize right away that you don't deny it.

"So...need a ride?" He asks, glancing behind you as Sarah's car pulls from the parking lot. "Cause it looks like yours just left."

Sarah. She's always trying to get you two alone. For some reason, she has it in her head that all your fighting is just camouflaging your "real feelings." You think Sarah needs to stop reading so many fanfics in her free time.

"Of course," you sigh, "Remind me to give Sarah Cameron an earful when I get home."

JJ just chuckles and unlocks the truck, tossing his backpack in the backseat. "Get in," he says. You don't argue.

You toss your bag in the back next to his before joining him in the front seat. Sitting together on his bench seats of his old truck feels almost intimate. This is the closest you've ever been to JJ before, and it's happening when you're alone. Both your brain and stomach feel as if they're on rollercoasters.

JJ backs the truck out of the school parking lot. "So, where to, Y/L/N?"

You tell him your street and he nods. He rolls down his window and with practiced ease, takes out and lights a cigarette one handed. You try not to wrinkle your nose. This is his truck and he's being kind enough to give you a ride. You aren't going to be a pain about a little cigarette smoke.

JJ begins to drum his fingers on the wheel, his right knee is bouncing jitterijngly. The cigarette between his fingers is doing nothing to calm his nerves, and you fight the urge to rest your hand on his knee.

"So," you say after a beat, "You gonna tell me about the sick fight you got in that led to....that," you wave a hand in his general direction.

JJ takes a drag of the cigarette, the air in the truck suddenly feeling thicker. "Not much too tell. Mouthed off, the usual."

You nod, "We both know that mouth of yours is gonna get you in some type of trouble one day."

JJ smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eye, "Yeah," another drag of the cigarette, "But fuck, I wish hadn't been so drunk out of his mind to forget he was wearing that damn class ring."

You freeze. "What?"

"Dad," another drag, "That's who I've got to thank for these sick bruises. Dear ol' Dad."

"JJ..."

"It's fine," he quick to say, quick to shrug, "I've got it under control. It's usually not this bad. But last night he was completely hammered and I should have known not to..."

"No, JJ," you're quick to say, "Nothing you did is an excuse for this. Whatever you did, you didn't deserve this. This is on him, not on you."

JJ sighs, tightens his hand on the wheel, "Whatever," he says, another shrug, a slight sniffle, "It's just a few more months, then I'm eighteen and I'm out. It's fine, really Y/N. I've got it under control. And usually when he gets like that, I can hide out at John B's place, lay low a bit."

"JJ, you shouldn't have to..."

"It is what it is," JJ says, another shrug, "It's just the roll of the dice. The hand I've been dealt. I learned a long time ago it does nobody any good to run around feeling sorry for yourself."

"Does anyone know?" You ask, you feel like your stepping out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the weight of the ice.

"John B, his dad. They do what they can. No one blinks twice at a kid from The Cut with a few bruises. I've got a home, I'm fed. That's more than most of the kids from the broken homes 'round here. Besides, if anyone did come sniffin' around and decide to take me away, you know what that means, Y/N? That means being taken to the mainland, to a group home that'd probably be worse than where I am now. And I won't have John B or Big John or the surf to keep me sane. So I lay low, try to stay out of his way. It's fine, Y/N. I'm fine."

Your hand hovers slightly before you press above JJ's knee, right where the khaki cargo shorts cut off. His skin is soft, tanned. You half expect him to jerk away, to smack your hand away. Instead, he tenses under your touch, his eyes draw to you. You give him a soft smile.

"It's okay not to be fine, JJ. You don't have to be fine all the time, and you certainly don't have to be fine around me. It sucks, and I'm so sorry this is what you go through. You've never minced words with me before, so don't start now. It fucking sucks. But you aren't alone, okay? I'm here for you too."

"Mind if we make a pit stop first?" JJ asks.

You shrug, "I've got nowhere else to be."

You're sure Sarah is probably glued to her phone wanting every detail. You can make her stew a little bit.

JJ pulls the truck over at the drive-in burger place, Storm's. He orders two strawberry milkshakes.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, then I'm kicking you out of this truck right now," he says, paying the carhop the $5.50 and handing you your Styrofoam cup.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, I might never speak to you again," you say.

"Damn it," he snaps his fingers with a grin, "Nearly had an out."

You give his shoulder a shove and JJ laughs. It feels good to hear him laugh, to be the cause of it. You want to make him laugh over and over again.

JJ takes the truck out towards the beach. You sit in silence as you watch the waves, sipping your milkshakes. Silence has always made you feel awkward, on edge. This silence between you feels almost comfortable. Like neither of you have to say anything, and that's okay.

Still, you can't help but ask, "You have somewhere to go tonight?"

"Been staying at John B's," JJ says, "Dad'll cool off in a few days. Sober up. He's predictable like that. Hell," JJ laughs humorlessly, "I'll bet this weekend he'll pull up with an ice chest of beer and cans of tuna and have a whole weekend out on the boat planned just the two of us. That's as close to an apology as Luke Maybank can muster."

"JJ..."

"It's fine, Y/N. Like I said, I've got it under control. A few more months and then I'm out. I've even got money saved. John B and I are gonna rent a place close to the water. It'll be sick."

"Sounds nice," you say. "This is nice," you wave your milkshake out towards the sea just ahead, "I don't come to the beach enough."

"You don't? How do you survive?"

You can't help but laugh at how genuinely concerned he sounds. "Not everyone needs the salt water to survive, Jage," you say, "I guess I just never grew up with it. My parents are definitely more inside people. And sure we go to the beach sometimes. But I guess I just don't go out of my way to come here."

"That's just sad, Y/N. One of these days, I'm gonna have to teach you to surf." The comment seems to take the both of you by surprise. "Uh..." JJ's hand goes immediately to the back of his neck.

"I'd like that," you're quick to say, and it seems to relax him just a bit.

"Really?" That lazy grin is back.

"Mmhmm," you nod, "No one's ever gone out of their way to teach me anything like that before. And even I know you're one of the best surfers on the island."

JJ beams with pride, sits up a little straighter, "Damn straight." He takes another slurp of his milkshake, then lifts his chin towards the water, "C'mon," he says.

"Where are we going?" You ask as he's already bailing out of the truck.

"Just c'mon," he says.

You can't help but laugh, leaving your milkshake behind. JJ takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the beach. The wind is kicking up as evening approaches, and you walk along the sand, breathing in the brine of the salt water. JJ's still holding your hand in his, and you can't help but think it belongs there, in his.

"This right here," he says, "is why I stay where I am. I can't imagine being away from the ocean, the surf. John B says I have saltwater for blood and maybe he's right. But this right here, Y/N, is my favorite place in the world. It's paradise. Everything else, all the bullshit, it's worth it to be here. There's no where else I'd rather be."

"It is beautiful," you say, "I definitely need to come out to the water more."

"I'll bring you."

"You better."

JJ smiles, tightens his hand around yours.

The two of you walk along the beach, enjoying the sounds of the waves splashing, the gulls cawlling from above. Some little kids are building sandcastles as you walk past.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" You ask, "I was building a sandcastle in the sand box on the playground and you trampled right over it."

"That was not the first time we met."

"Yes it was."

"Oh no it wasn't. C'mon, Y/N, do you really not remember?"

"I remember you trampling my sandcastle is what I remember."

JJ shakes his head, "We met before that. Nursery school. About two years before then."

"What?" Your brows furrow as you try to think back that far.

"It was your first day and you were crying and clutching that stupid teddy bear of yours. You didn't want your mom to leave you. You sat off by yourself crying all morning. I went over and shared my Goldfish with you cause I felt bad."

"Oh my God..."

"Yeah," JJ runs a hand through his hair, watching the sand kick beneath his feat, "And then that day on the playground, I was so excited to see you again that I ran over and...accidentally stomped on your sandcastle. But by then you were so livid that I'd ruined it and started yelling at me, and well...I've always been kind of a shit about things and so I started kicking it worse, just to get a rise out of you. I'd have done the same thing to John B. But seeing you get all...squawk like that."

"I do not squawk."

"Oh you absolutely squawk," JJ laughs, "And thus began our beautiful rivalry as we know it."

"You're a pain," you say, but you can't help the smile on your face.

"You love it though."

"Do not."

"Do too!" JJ gives you a gentle shove with his shoulder, "You absolutely start half the shit that's happened between us. You go out of your way to track me down and yell at me for something."

"I do not do that!"

"You absolutely do that. And you drag poor Sarah long with you and she stands there and tries not to laugh as we go at it. If I didn't know better, Y/N, I'd say you actually enjoyed our fights."

"That's not true! You are such a menace! You get on my last never all the time and..."

"Uh-huh," JJ's smirk deepens, the dimple forms in his cheek, "Keep tellin' yourself that, Mama."

The term of endearment makes your stomach tighten. You can feel your cheeks heat, and it's not from the sun.

"Don't call me that," you say.

"Why not?" JJ asks.

"Because," you can't think of a single valid reason. "That nickname is for a significant other," you finally say.

"True," JJ nods, "And that's definitely not you, right?"

"Absolutely not," you say, your hand gives his an involuntary squeeze, "In your dreams, Maybank."

"What do you know about my dreams, Y/L/N?"

You give him a shove, and JJ laughs.

"I like that," you say before you can stop yourself.

"Like what?" JJ asks.

"Your laugh."

You swear his cheeks go a shade of pink when you say it.

"No one likes my laugh," he says.

"That's not true. John B likes your laugh, I see the two of you. He's always trying to go out of his way to make you laugh. And I like it too."

JJ blushes deeper, "You can't just go runnin' around sayin' shit like that," he says.

"And why not?"

JJ just sighs, lifts his eyes to the sky like he's saying a silent prayer and shakes his head, "You just can't, darlin'."

The two of you walk a little further, to one of the rocky hills. JJ still holds your hand as the two of you climb up to sit on the top. He pulls his knees to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Love coming here," he says, "Best place to sit and clear your head when the noise of everything else gets too loud."

"It really is beautiful," you say, "Thank you for bringing me."

"Haven't had a chance to come out here since the other night," JJ says, picks up a rock and turns it in his hand. "Went straight to John B's after."

You finally reach a hand out, cup his cheek in your palm, "I'm so sorry, JJ," you say, wishing your gentle touch could somehow erase the pain from his flesh. You realize in this moment that JJ Maybank should only ever feel gentleness and softness. It breaks your heart to think he's felt anything else.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," he says, overlapping your hand with his, "But thank you, Y/N."

"Make you a deal," you say.

"What's that?" JJ asks.

"Any time things feel like a lot, you can come find me and bring me out here. I need a surf instructor after all. Any time you need to clear your head and need an excuse, I'm here."

JJ smiles, nuzzles his cheek into your hand, "Thanks, Y/N." He takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the back of your knuckles, "Can I tell you a secret?" He asks.

"Sure."

"I think that's why I pick fights with you like I do. Fighting with you...it's fun. And it pulls me out of my head. Distracts me."

You can't explain it, but his words make your stomach dip. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," JJ blushes again, ducks his head, "I just...it's fun. Isn't it?"

"It is," you admit, "I like fighting with you."

"But after all these years...." he sighs, "...sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder?"

"If there might be something better...better than fighting."

The butterflies are back and you tilt your head to meet his eye, "Like?"

"You're my distraction, Y/N. Every bit as much as the waves are. You keep me grounded. It sounds stupid....but the reason I even still come to school at all is because I look forward to fightin' with you. I'm just sayin'....what if there was something more than fightin'."

"Can I tell you a secret?" You ask. JJ nods. "Sarah gives me so much shit for it, but fighting with you is one of my favorite parts of the day. I do look for you and go out of my way to yell at you for something. It's...it's fun, getting under each other's skin. I can't imagine you not being the fixture you've become in my life, JJ Maybank. I don't think I want to."

JJ takes a breath, the blush is back on his cheeks. You give his hand a squeeze.

"What would you want with a guy like me?" He asks and your heart clenches in your chest.

You let go of his hand and turn to face him, sitting up on your knees. "JJ Maybank," you say, gently scolding, "Don't you even think that. Not for a second."

"Look at me though," he says with a broken sigh, "I'm fucked up, Y/N. Just look at my face..."

You interrupt with a press of your lips to his cheek. JJ freezes, you hear the softest little gasp escape. You press another kiss to another bruise, and another. The bruise on his cheekbones, the cut above his eyebrow, the purple blooming along his eyesocket. JJ is almost shaking as you press a final kiss to the cut on his swollen lip.

"Jesus, Mama..." he says, and it sounds like a prayer.

"That a better distraction than fighting?" You ask with a smirk of your own.

"Fuck yes," his voice is thick and wrecked as you sit back, card your hand through the blonde bangs sticking to his forehead.

"I think so too," you say. "What do you say we retire our title of mortal enemies, hmm?"

"Yes please."

You can't help but giggle at the desperation in his voice, "What other title should we give each other then?" You ask.

JJ rolls his eyes, the smile on his face big enough to split him in two, "You're really gonna make me say it?"

"Mmhmm."

JJ shakes his head helplessly, "Alright, fine. You win. Girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend," you say back.

JJ ducks his head to hide the blush staining his cheeks. His smile has somehow grown even bigger. Then, as if finally getting a handle on himself, he reaches up and pulls you towards him, hand at the nape of your neck.

"You know what this means, right?" He asks, lips hovering above yours.

"Tell me."

"I get to kiss you any time I like."

"Well you god-damn better," you can't help but grin.

JJ chuckles lowly, before capturing your lip in his. The kiss is unlike any other kiss you've ever experienced; those sweet, shy kisses on doorsteps after dates to dances and diners. This is different. There's a desperation there, a hunger, and a hope all in one. JJ nips at your lip as the two of you pull apart.

"Fuck," he says on a sigh.

"Better than fighting?" You ask again.

"So much better."

You press another kiss to his cheek, "I wish I could kiss away every bit of pain, JJ."

"This?" JJ points to the bruise on his cheek, "Aint nothin'. I'd walk through fire and back for one kiss from you."

"I'd never ask you to," you say, cupping his cheek in your palm again. "You know what this means, right?"

"What's that, Mama?"

"I get to kiss you any time I like. No walking through fire required."

"You're letting me call you Mama," JJ says, reaching a hand out to twist a strand of your hair around his finger.

"Boyfriend privileges and all that," you say.

"I like the sound of that," JJ grins, "Tell me, darlin'. What other privileges do these new titles come with?"

You shake your head with a laugh, "You'll just have to see."

The sun is starting to set and JJ sighs, "Guess I better be gettin' you home."

"Pry should."

"And Big John is grilling out for us tonight, so I should get back for that."

"You gonna be okay?" You ask.

"Of course," he says, "I'm JJ Maybank. When am I ever not okay?"

You sigh and shake your head as he holds out his hand and helps you to your feet. "Besides," he says as the two of you start the walk to the car, "I get to look forward to seeing my girl tomorrow."

You can't help but blush. JJ holds the truck door open for you and you slide in. He goes around to the drivers side and hops in, turning the key in the ignition.

"Do girlfriends get AUX privileges?" You ask, reaching for the cable hanging down by your feet.

"Fuck no," JJ laughs, snatching it away, "I've heard the shit you and Sarah blast from her convertible. Girlfriend or not, Taylor Swift is not touchin' these speakers."

"But...girlfriend privileges."

"Girlfriend privileges nothin'," JJ grins, backing the truck out, "Girlfriend privileges mean I'm pressin' you up against this truck and kissin' you breathless before I tell you goodnight. It does not mean blasting Taylor Swift in ol' Daisy Mae."

"You named your truck Daisy Mae?"

"What?"

"That's more egregious than any music I could play from my phone."

"Don't you be talkin' shit about Daisey Mae, okay?"

"Stupid ass name," you say with a smile.

JJ lifts his middle finger at you with a smile equally as big.

"Alright," you say, "question."

"What's that?"

"Just because we've retired the title of mortal enemies doesn't mean we still can't fight, right?"

"Not the fun fights anyway," JJ grins, "Those fights I can always just shut you up by kissin' you."

"Menace."

"Always."

You shake your head, laughing and lean your head against his shoulder.

"Oh I am in so much trouble," he says, handing you the AUX cord, "You've already got me wrapped around your finger. You always have."

You press another kiss to his cheek, taking his hand in yours. You pull up These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding.

"And you've got me wrapped around yours," you say.

JJ grins, lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles. The two of you drive the rest of the way to your house in silence, your head on his shoulder and Otis' voice crooning from the crackling stereo. JJ Maybank was officially now no longer the bane of your existence, and maybe Sarah Cameron hadn't been that off-base after all. All you knew in this moment though was you'd spent the last ten years being driven crazy by JJ Maybank, and you'd gladly be driven crazy by him the next ten.

[siriusremusblack]

GUYS- ok I honestly don’t even know lol

I feel like. If people hadn’t stolen Snape’s characteristics and given them to other characters like Sirius, Barty, Regulus, and even James- practically worshipping them for those stolen traits- but then completely dehumanizing and Villainizing Snape, removing those traits or making them seem like they’re just so undeniably wrong. That the marauders fandom could’ve been something so much better.

Snape does not deserve all the hate he gets within that fandom. However, I feel like. If you take away the characterization that belongs to Snape that was given to the others and come up with new characterizations for the Marauders- something original, not based off Snape. We could have a cool adventure story they seem to be wanting??

And I mean. If it’s an adventure story anyways. Why make them good people? That’s lame, overused, boring (at least to me). Keep the marauders as the bad guys. Keep their horrible canon personalities. Explore their bad traits! Don’t make them heroes, don’t make them good people. They’re not.

Maybe they get character development and improve during your story through shared experiences. That’s great! That would be amazing! But don’t right off the bat completely change them- making them basically into ocs.

What I think a lot of people may enjoy is some bad dudes hanging out. Going on adventures, breaking rules, stabbing people in the back, just being total jerks.

They sound horrible when I put it like that? GOOD. How fun would it be too see that? I mean. If adventurers are following the rules, the laws- are they really adventurers? They’re staying within reason. They’re not pushing the limits. They’re just. Normal, boring people that like to travel.

A lot of people like pirates. Pirates break the laws, they go on adventures, they can be real jerks, they can be horrible people- but they’re still well liked.

So, I feel like. If people had stuck to the original characterizations of the characters- explored it a little, made them worse by a lot or a little- focused on them breaking the rules and going on adventures similarly to how pirates do- (very important part here: WITHOUT VILLAINIZING SNAPE) we could’ve gotten a lot better fandom there. Now, I’m not saying everyone apart of that fandom is bad, I’ve met a couple people that were chill that were in that fandom. But, think of how much more interesting the stories could be if we focus on the bad traits of the Marauders.

You can still put random characters with them like Barry and Regulus- but tell us why and how through the stories, because realistically speaking, James would absolutely despise people like Regulus and Barty. Not because of their ideals- but because they’re slytherin.

Bad guys can be extremely interesting too! You don’t need to change the Marauders to make interesting enjoyable stories- it’s ok to like characters with horrible or questionable morals (as long as you don’t agree with them, if you agree with them… ehh.. maybe seek help-? I don’t know-!!)

BUT COME ON. Marauders being total jerks, bad people- but going on adventures. That’s interesting- and Snape? He can be his curious self. Suspicious of their actions. Maybe as he gets older he’d be apart of the law enforcement- who’s looking for the Marauders for their crimes, to make sure justice is served.

Y’all I don’t know- but I find this more interesting than whatever the current marauders stories are.

[itsmyfandomandilikeit]

Ok I have gone through all available evidence and I have a prediction.

Look I'm ngl I am watching Arcane for Cait and Vi. I love the show overall but this ship is what I'm most here for, especially after I spent the last 3 years under the assumption that Mel was dead. Glad she isn't. Point is, I really want CaitVi/Violyn/Piltover's Finest to be handled well, and I pay a disproportionate amount of attention to what happens with these two.

After watching the first arc of season 2 the other day, I was trying really hard to ignore the ending to episode 3. I didn't like that Cait hit Vi in the stomach and abandoned her in a pit after being all classist at her, but I thought, this is Arcane. Arcane is the greatest fucking thing I've ever seen, of course they're gonna find a way to make this work. But that made me think of it as a puzzle. How could they possibly make this work?

Option one, Cait sucks now and she and Vi don't get back together. I don't think this makes sense, because of the brand. CaitVi is a popular ship that just about everybody likes. A huge amount of the hype for this season before the trailers came out was building up assurances that don't worry, CaitVi is happening and it's not gonna be ambiguous. Take this teaser from like two weeks after season 1 ended, a couple of Valentine's Day icons, and one million tweets from Amanda Overton. Why the fuck would they make this season be about Cait and Vi not working out? It simply doesn't make logical sense.

Ok, so we're starting from the assumption that Cait and Vi have a happy ending that makes people feel like they should be together, and continue to want to play as them in the games and buy merchandise. That means they either explicitly get back together, or it's so implied there isn't much of a difference. My money is on zero ambiguity. Vi is the main character and Cait is maybe #3 or #4. Ambiguity about their ending would just look like a weak writing choice and they didn't know what they're doing. The Arcane writers don't tend to go for wishy washy.

But here's the problem. Domestic violence is bad. It's about the fastest way to guarantee the majority of your audience doesn't think two characters should be together. It would take a herculean effort on Cait's part to make up for that and honestly I still wouldn't believe it. To me, there isn't any kind of act of service that makes up for hitting your partner. Not even ensuring the independence of the nation of Zaun. Add on top of that the over the top hurtful comments about Vi's blood and class. It makes her look very much like, deep down, she thinks of Vi as beneath her. If she meant those things, a relationship between them is impossible. (Not to mention how many teenaged girls I know are watching this, and I don't want them to think it's ever okay to be treated like that, even in a fantasy series.)

So my prediction is this. The only way to make a relationship between Cait and Vi viable again is to render those comments and the sentiment they carry meaningless. How do the writers do that? Imo it turns out later that Cait intentionally came up with cruel things to say to cut Vi loose. She realized that Vi would never be able to kill Jinx, and this new explosion will make the situation aboveground even worse, and Vi still won't be able to contribute to the hunt after this. Vi has no future as an enforcer against Jinx and will probably get treated like dogshit as a Zaunite, so Cait is "breaking her heart to save her", as Tvtropes would say. In Cait's mind, it's better if she's left down here in Zaun.

What evidence do I have for this? It fits Cait's characterization as a genius who thinks quickly and several steps ahead. It fits the tiny animation details we zero in on of her stiffening her trembling lips and furled eyebrows. It un-ruins the most popular canon relationship in League. It allows act 1 to end on massive shock value but roll it back later to show that Cait actually does love Vi, enough to let her go for her own good.

I'm not arguing this is the best possible solution but it's the one I think they're going to go with. Amanda Overton and some others have repeatedly said that CaitVi fans will be happy with the ending to Arcane. Everything about the show(the opening, Netflix Brazil's Twitter account, the story) points to them being the show's OTP except for this one scene. I think Cait intentionally cut Vi out of her life by pretending to be much crueler than she wanted to be, to protect her and, likely, as a form of self destruction.

[mercillery]

You already know who this is lmao. Since you wrote Andrew perfectly from IDV I GOTTA see how you write Frederick relationship overview 🙏💕 I love my poor disgruntled ex prodigee French man

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I’ve got nothing to say about Frederick mains yet because I stopped playing around his release…but i’m sure his mains are fun to play with. I imagine they accidentally pop ciphers a lot too.

At first, Frederick would charm you in a way that feels almost unfair, like he’s playing a game you didn’t know you’d signed up for???

You’d find yourself completely entranced by Frederick—there’s no escaping it. This man doesn’t just walk into a room; he makes an entrance with a grace so smooth it practically slides in on polished shoes. He’s got this natural elegance that makes you wonder if he spends his weekends secretly training under some Victorian-era etiquette coach.

Every word, every subtle movement, is meticulously chosen to leave a lasting impression. You can almost hear a soundtrack playing whenever he talks. His gaze? Oh, it’s not just looking at you; it’s reading your very soul, flipping through your emotional pages like a well-loved book. This guy has the power to sweep any lady off their feet, whether they want to be swept or not. But don’t get too worried—you’re not just anyone to Frederick.

Dating Frederick is like a high-stakes thriller with poetic intermissions. When he’s chosen you as his focus, you’ll know it. He’s as devoted as a knight in shining armor with an artistic twist. Forget flowers—he’s out there composing symphonies that embody the way you laugh or the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed.

And yes, he’s that extra. But it’s not all rainbows and heartfelt sonatas. His passion runs as deep as the Mariana Trench, and with that comes a protective streak that would put guard dogs to shame.

His moments of jealousy? Let’s just say he doesn’t do halfway—Frederick only knows extremes. If you so much as wave at your barista a second too long, brace yourself for a brooding soliloquy about loyalty and his existential fear of being forgotten.

See, the man doesn’t just want to be liked or loved; he needs to be your everything. He’s got this internal scoreboard and if he’s not winning the gold medal in your heart, what’s the point? To Frederick, being mediocre is worse than losing—it’s being invisible, and he won’t settle for that. And honestly, why should he?

When it comes to love, Frederick doesn't do simple—no, he composes entire symphonies that could put Hollywood’s most dramatic love themes to shame. His idea of showing affection? It’s nothing short of an epic masterpiece.

You’d find yourself at the center of a grand concerto, where each note is painstakingly crafted to echo the highs, the lows, and those delicious in-betweens of your relationship. And, of course, private performances would become as routine as morning coffee.

Picture this: Frederick seated at a piano, fingers dancing across the keys, eyes darting to your face every other second as if he's trying to capture every flicker of your reaction. Is that awe? Is that admiration? Good. He’ll take that as a win. Your approval? It’s like a five-star review in a world where his love language is measured in crescendos and decrescendos.

But let's not forget—Frederick is a hopeless romantic, the kind who’s read Wuthering Heights one too many times and thought, Yeah, I can top that.

Love letters? Oh, they’re not just notes; they’re beautifully penned, metaphor-laden works of art that could make Shakespeare sit down and take notes. Candlelit concerts? He’s already planned three for next month, complete with a playlist that rivals the greatest romantic ballads in history.

And the surprises don’t stop there; you'll find flowers and little notes tucked into places you'd never expect: your bag, the fridge, maybe even the laundry hamper (don’t ask how they got there).

But for all his flair, Frederick isn’t just about grand gestures. There are those quieter, softer moments that catch you off guard and remind you that his love is as layered as one of his symphonies.

A simple lean of his head on your shoulder while you read, a touch so subtle you almost question if it happened, or that electric, intense gaze from across a crowded room—those moments are like a secret shared between the two of you. It’s like speaking an unspoken language, one where every glance and touch is a verse in an ever-unfolding poem that only the two of you understand.

Frederick’s sensitivity is a double-edged sword in your relationship, like owning a cat that’s both affectionate and completely unpredictable. On one hand, his perceptiveness is unmatched. This man could tell you’re upset from the way you’re stirring your coffee or the subtle shift in your smile.

Before you even have the chance to sigh, he’s there with those eyes full of concern, ready to listen and offer comfort that feels like a warm blanket on a cold day. It’s this deep empathy that forges an almost magical connection between you two, making you feel seen and understood in a way that’s rare. When Frederick’s with you, he’s with you—body, mind, and soul.

But there’s a catch, and it’s a big one.

His own emotions are about as stable as a teetering Jenga tower in the middle of an earthquake. Frederick feels everything on a scale of 1 to 100, with no in-between. Did you forget to say goodnight because you fell asleep? Prepare for an orchestra of internal questioning that could rival Hamlet’s soliloquy. Did you compliment a friend’s new jacket without immediately reassuring him that he still has the best taste in the room? Cue the silent spiral of doubt. He doesn’t just overthink—he over-operas. (Am I funny yet or do I just sound corny?)

Reassurance isn’t just appreciated; it’s essential. A simple “I’m here for you” can turn his internal storm into a calm, clear sky. Without it, his mind becomes a symphony of self-doubt, complete with the tragic overture of “Are they slipping away?”

And while it might sound exhausting, knowing this about Frederick means you’re sharing in something unique: a relationship where vulnerability is met with raw honesty and a commitment to each other’s emotional landscapes. Just be prepared for those moments when your calming words are the only thing standing between him and a full Shakespearean-level existential crisis.

While Frederick effortlessly projects an aura of undeniable charm and sophistication, it’s in those rare, private moments that you get to see beyond the polished exterior. These are the times when the cracks in his armor show, and you catch glimpses of the man behind the grandeur.

He’ll sit beside you, the gleam in his eyes softened, and open up about the disappointments that still gnaw at him. He’ll talk about the aching void left by his estranged family, the times he felt abandoned, and the relentless fear of mediocrity that follows him like a shadow he can’t shake.

It’s then you realize that his vanity isn’t just there to dazzle; it’s a well-crafted shield, desperately protecting the perfection-seeking artist who’s terrified of being truly seen and found wanting. In these moments, your acceptance of him—raw, imperfect, and honest—is worth more than a standing ovation at a sold-out concert.

But, spoiler alert: listening quietly won’t cut it.

He doesn’t just want to see that you’re present; he needs to hear your voice, feel your words like a balm on his frayed nerves. A silent nod isn’t enough when his mind is a cacophony of insecurities. He craves your reassurance like it’s the only song that can drown out the dissonance of self-doubt.

Then there are those times when Frederick’s paranoia takes center stage, and his brain transforms into a crime scene investigator looking for clues of your potential disinterest. Did you pause a beat too long before answering a question? He’ll dissect that silence like a forensic expert, eyes narrowing as if you just handed him the Rosetta Stone of heartbreak.

Even your simplest words or expressions are put under a microscope, magnified until he’s convinced he’s found proof that you’re slipping away. And yes, this can lead to some tension that’ll have you wondering if you’re in a relationship or a 24/7 reality show with constant performance reviews.

But here’s the twist—your patience and understanding are the keys to unlocking the security he craves. Sure, it might feel like you’re on an emotional tightrope at times, but when you take that moment to reassure him, to tell him he’s enough, you’ll see the tension melt away, and the storm in his eyes settle. Your steady, confident love is what helps Frederick silence the relentless chorus of doubt, making him feel seen, cherished, and—finally—secure.

Frederick has an eye for beauty, a radar for aesthetics, and a deep appreciation for life’s most elegant experiences, so if you’re with him, get ready for a whirlwind of high-class romance. Dates with Frederick aren’t just nights out—they’re productions.

Picture this: a night at the opera where he’s reserved the best seats, just for you and him, leaning close to whisper his insights on the music while his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your arm. Or an evening spent at a prestigious art gallery where he guides you from piece to piece, sharing stories and perspectives that make the artwork come alive.

Even a simple walk in the park with Frederick is elevated; he’s not just strolling—he’s carefully navigating to the most scenic routes, stopping at every blooming flower and golden-lit pond to take in the view and share a quiet moment of awe with you. He’ll glance at you with that expectant smile, as if to say, Isn’t this incredible?—and yes, he’ll definitely be checking to see if you agree.

And yes, if you’re wondering, he does have standards—expectations, even. Frederick doesn’t want to enjoy these experiences alone; he wants to bask in your shared appreciation, revel in your mutual admiration for art, architecture, and all things exceptional.

He’ll be delighted to show you off to his social circle, introducing you with a certain pride, as if you’re the finest piece in his collection of treasured things. But with that comes an unspoken agreement that you’ll match his refined demeanor and partake in his world of cultured conversation and elegant gestures.

Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s not expecting you to memorize 18th-century sonatas overnight or debate the merits of impressionism versus post-impressionism at every cocktail party. But if he catches even the slightest yawn during a concert or a vague, non-committal “It was fine” when he asks your thoughts on an exhibit—oh boy, brace yourself.

His brows will furrow in a way that says Is this really happening?, and suddenly, the air will feel a bit tense, like you’ve hit a wrong note in the symphony of his evening. He thrives on shared enthusiasm, so when he doesn’t see that spark in your eyes, he’s left wondering if you’re really on the same page or if you’d rather be anywhere else.

The key to navigating these moments? Patience and a touch of reassurance that, yes, you’re in this for the full experience—fancy outfits, whispered critiques at the opera, picturesque paths and all.

One thing about Frederick? He holds mediocrity in absolute contempt. This extends beyond his own aspirations and into the realm of your relationship, which, to him, is just another area where greatness must reign supreme.

If you're with Frederick, get ready for a personal coach, cheerleader, and, occasionally, an overly intense life mentor wrapped into one. He’ll push you to chase your dreams and won’t just clap when you reach a milestone—he’ll give you a standing ovation, complete with dramatic applause.

But with that passionate encouragement comes an edge; Frederick will also be your most unsparing critic, the kind who’ll say, “That was good, but it could be phenomenal,” right when you’re ready to celebrate. It’s motivating, sure, but if you don’t share his relentless pursuit of excellence or just need a break now and then, it might feel like you’re jogging beside someone who’s running an ultra-marathon…

If you really want Frederick to beam like he just won an award, show a genuine love for his craft or nurture a passion of your own. Respect for talent and hard work is practically woven into his DNA, so when he sees that you have your own spark, that’s when you become more than just a partner—you’re his muse, his equal, the one who fuels his artistic spirit.

Conversations with Frederick are not your run-of-the-mill small talk. Forget chatting about the weather or weekend plans; he’s here to unravel the mysteries of the human mind, ponder the nature of ambition, and debate the intricacies of creativity.

His interest in dissecting emotions, motivations, and talent isn’t just a casual hobby; it’s like he’s running a one-man TED Talk every time he opens his mouth.

And you? You’ll probably find yourself nodding along, wide-eyed, captivated by the way he speaks with such eloquence that even the most mundane statement sounds profound.

Honestly, he could say, “An orange is orange,” and you’d be nodding like, “Absolutely, that’s so true,” while trying not to swoon from the sheer brilliance of his delivery.

That said, these conversations aren’t just one-sided lectures. Frederick expects engagement, intellectual back-and-forth, even if it turns into a bit of a debate. And make no mistake—he’s got strong opinions and isn’t afraid to challenge yours, especially when it comes to art and talent.

But here’s the thing: he respects those who can spar with him in these verbal duels. If you stand your ground and hold your own, you’ll earn a rare, approving smile that makes all those philosophical tangents worth it.

Plus, there’s something quite mesmerizing about listening to him—his voice, rich and confident, pulls you in, and you’re left thinking, “Yes, Frederick, tell me more about the complexities of human nature and why oranges are orange,” while internally planning your Nobel Prize acceptance speech for keeping up with him.

Beneath Frederick’s air of grandeur and confident public persona, there’s a side of him that only you get to see—a soft, almost fragile version of himself that craves simple, unguarded intimacy. These are the moments when he lets the mask slip and the weight of being Frederick Kreiburg, the heir, the prodigy, the perfectionist, melts away.

It’s in these quiet interludes that you find him seeking solace, laying his head in your lap as you read, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your knee while he closes his eyes, enjoying the rare sense of peace. He doesn’t need to fill the silence with grand words or impressive declarations. In your shared space, the performance is over; he’s just Frederick, vulnerable and human, grateful that he doesn’t have to strive for perfection in your presence. Your presence alone is enough to soothe the symphony of doubt that usually plays on loop in his mind.

And while he might dazzle the crowds with his musical prowess and philosophical musings, one of his quieter passions is equestrianism—a skill that, unlike many of his pursuits, isn’t about impressing others but about finding a rare moment of freedom. It’s a pastime that lets him shed the pressure and simply enjoy life for what it is, the rhythmic pounding of hooves syncing with his heartbeat as he gallops across open fields, feeling the wind tug at his platinum hair.

When he invites you to join him on horseback rides, it’s more than just an activity; it’s an invitation into this private realm where he feels unburdened and alive. Teaching you to ride? Oh, he’ll approach it with all the patience and joy that he usually reserves for his most cherished pursuits. He’ll guide you with an amused smile as you find your balance, his hand never straying too far from yours, ready to steady you at the slightest wobble.

But nothing makes his heart lift quite like seeing you experience the same exhilaration that riding brings him. That shared thrill—the wind in your hair, the laughter that bubbles up as you both race through sun-dappled trails—is something he treasures. It’s one of the few times where his worries, ambitions, and relentless pursuit of excellence fade into the background, and it’s just the two of you, free and unbound.

And when he looks over at you, eyes bright and a grin cracking through his otherwise composed demeanor, you realize that, yes, this is Frederick at his happiest—not the heir or the virtuoso, but a man who, for once, is simply living in the moment, sharing it with the one person who makes it all more vibrant.

Ah, the shadows of Frederick’s past—a specter that never quite left him, always lingering in the corners of his mind, whispering doubts and sowing restlessness. There are days when this presence looms larger, and he becomes a man consumed by his inner turmoil, pacing like a caged lion or retreating into the sanctuary of his study.

In these moments, it’s like he’s waging a war with his thoughts, wrestling with the frustration of creative blocks or the relentless voice that tells him he’s never enough. He might shut the world out, drowning himself in a storm of music that’s as chaotic as his thoughts, fingers flying over the keys, each note a plea for peace that never quite comes.

It’s during these times that your role is both simple and profound. You may not know it, but your quiet, unwavering presence is the lighthouse guiding him through the storm.

A soft touch, the brush of your hand against his arm as you pass by, or just sitting in the room while he spirals—these things are the lifelines he doesn’t always know how to ask for but desperately needs. And while you might think that just being there isn’t enough, oh, how wrong you’d be.

The truth is, your patience and silent support do more than calm the chaos; they remind him that he isn’t alone in the struggle. Your reassurance is like a hidden chord in his symphony, one he clings to when the rest feels dissonant.

Of course, it’s not always easy. There will be times when the emotional weight feels as if it’s pressing down on you too, and you catch yourself thinking, Is this worth it?

And then you remember—remember the man behind the polished façade, the one who laughs a little too loudly when he’s truly caught off guard, or who looks at you with such raw, unguarded affection that it makes your heart stutter. The one who finds solace in resting his head in your lap and who lights up when he shares the simple joy of a horseback ride. The man who, despite his brilliance and bravado, is just as flawed and human as anyone else.

And in those moments, it doesn’t feel so exhausting. It feels like you’re part of something beautiful and rare—like you’re holding a piece of someone that no one else gets to touch, no matter how flawless his public persona may seem.

You realize that while being with Frederick comes with its trials, it also comes with moments of breathtaking vulnerability and love so consuming that it makes every struggle worth it. Because underneath the charm, the intensity, and the restless ambition is a man who, at the end of the day, needs you more than he’ll ever admit out loud. And that? That makes it all worthwhile.

[southparkthetwosidesofacard]

I am listening! I am invested! Please yap about your au idea!!

AHHHHHHHHHIIWJHDIEHDIANRRUFIFBFIEBF HFHDB I GET TO YAP ABOUT THIS YAYYYYYY

ok so, I honestly don’t have much of an idea as to where exactly this would go, but just for the basics (which I’m mostly coming up with on the fly, I’ll be honest) here we go:

(this ended up being quite long so everything else is under the break, sorry!)

obviously, ford and bill were not always… separated, as it were. growing up and into his teens and early twenties it was just stanford pines, no “alter egos” or masks or anything of the sort (much as he would’ve loved to be able to hide who he was).

then, when he moved up to gravity falls and began his research, he began to realize that there were so many things that he wanted to do, couldn’t do, because of his reputation. he needed to keep his record clean because if he didn’t, he could easily have his grant money revoked, and any future opportunities in the pursuit of science dashed due to one small slip up. so, he began to look into, well, changing who he was, splitting himself, so to speak, as to be not one but two at the same time.

eventually, it worked somehow (probably through a potion, as jekyll uses in the original book), and he found himself as not just one, but seemingly two people in one body. there was the stanford pines most people knew, the eccentric, odd mad scientist that lived in the woods at the edge of town, and then there was another, completely new facade. bill cipher, named for his often frustratingly vague double speak and extreme use of overly complicated metaphors (yes I’m giving bill’s name a reason, it sort of annoys me that theres no reasoning for hyde’s name in the book but thats a rant for another day).

to begin with, bill seems content with simply switching back and forth at ford’s will, being the way for ford to kick back and let loose with no fear of the repercussions. at least, until ford begins to have trouble getting back to himself. thats when he begins to doubt the true intent of his other self, of bill. its around this time he calls fiddleford. the man may have studied engineering, but in this world he also knows a little something about psychology, and paired with his brilliant mind, ford’s very precise notes of the situation (ahem the journals ahem), and the fact that hes basically ford’s only friend, it felt like the best course of action.

of course, in actual gravity falls, ford does his best to hide bill from fidds but here bill is exactly why ford called him. anyone else would’ve called him crazy, tried to experiment on him or worse, but fiddeford would never do any of that and ford knows it (just to be clear, I do think that if I ever wrote anything for this au college fiddauthor would be heavily implied here).

fidds does his best to help but when bill goes on a rampage one night, going so far as to kill the heir to the northwest family, preston northwest, he knows ford is beyond fucked (just a heads up, the person bill kills being preston may change but idk, we’ll see if I ever actually come back to this au haha). the reason fiddleford originally makes the memory gun in this au isnt for himself, its actually to try and erase the memories of what bill has down from the townspeople’s minds. the only problem is that the next time they see bill all of the memories return and everyone is back at square one. its just too much for fidds, and he begins to turn the memory gun on himself in an attempt to get rid of the fear, pain, failure, and regret that helping his friend brought him.

ford on the hand is mortified by what hes done. I highly doubt that there would be a confrontation type scene, it would be closer to how the book goes, where ford quickly begins to be unable to switch between stanford pines and bill cipher. the au would probably “end” (as in if I turned this into a fanfic/comic/whatever the story would end there) with ford figuring out where stan is, calling and begging him to come up to gravity falls and help him, before ultimately turning the memory gun on himself and ridding himself of “bill” once and for all.

the only problem is that in order to remove bill, he has to remove stanford pines and all that he is as well. now, we all know how this goes in both the show and most aus; stan or ford or whoever it is that is possessed by bill erases themselves/has someone erase them, is weirdly blank for a bit but ultimately regains their memories. well here it… wouldnt work like that. bill(/hyde) is an integral part of ford(/jekyll), to remove bill(hyde) is to remove stanford pines (jekyll), theres no way around that. so, ford sort of ends up in that “blank slate” state for the rest of his life. he called stan prior to erasing himself because he knew stan would take care of him no matter what, and he was right. for the rest of their lives, stan takes care of his brother to the best of his abilities, and while they never get to sail the seas together, and some nights bring unimaginable sorrow for stan, knowing he’ll never speak to his brother again, despite the fact that very man sleeps just a few doors down the hall, they make it work. ford (or, well, whats left behind when you remove everything that makes a person who they are) sees that his blankness hurt stan but he cant do anything about it, and to begin with almost avoids stan, at least before they finally have a talk in which stan reassures “ford” that he’s sure whatever reason ford may have had for erasing himself, it was worth it.

as for fidds, well it mostly works out in a similar way to canon, he does eventually regain most memories but of course some bits are still fuzzy. the fuzzy bits are never fully recovered, as the one person who may have been able to fill in the blanks no longer exists, but fidds is still mostly alright.

the journals… sort of exist? but not in the way that they do in the show, and what does exist stan had from the very beginning. ofc the twins still have to deal with monsters and spooks and whatnot in gravity falls, just not anything that has to do with bill (which means that, of course, weirdmageddon physically cannot happen). at some point, dipper begins to insinuate that the weirdness of gravity falls might have something to do with “ford’s”… situation, which is when stan finally fully comes clean with all he knows about the situation. its not until fiddleford begins to regain his memory, however, that any of them learn the truth of what was going on.

oh yikes, I wrote a lot more for this than I meant to, whoops!

oh yeah, I’m naming this au the “Dr. Pines/Mr. Cipher” au for now, but if anyone has any better ideas or if thats already been used for something else, please let me know!

also, @aaabatteryy I LOVE MARINEFLAMES’ CONFRONTATION ANIMATIC, THAT WAS ACTUALLY WHAT I WAS REFERENCING WHEN I MENTIONED OTHER ANIMATIONS USING A SIMILAR CONCEPT TO THIS AU

oh, and I just want to say that I’ve never watched the musical so thats why this doesnt (intentionally) incorporate any elements of that.

[uncanny-tranny]

Not to sound like a person who actually cares about children, but it's so alarming that there's this tendency and trend of not telling kids about their medical conditions that are in their charts.

I'm finding out as an adult that they (though it's not documented who) diagnosed me with a life-long, chronic condition without telling me when I was a teenager. I found out recently when I got curious about my medical charts, and otherwise, I would not have known what's wrong with me. I've been left with more questions than answers, and I feel like a private investigator investigating my own damn health and life.

Is this medical malpractice? Yes. However, I think it also speaks to a broader point of how children are seen to not be entitled to their own lives in any capacity, to the point where they are (intentionally or not) made ignorant about things that are or will affect them.

[erstwhles]

“ it was my fault. it was all my fault. ” from juliet to henrik (i'm sure he'll be normal about this doubtful)

it's about the comfort!

"I don't know, Your Majesty. Have you spoken to your wife today? Perhaps she would have the answer you are looking for." Rosalind doesn't look up from her plate as she crosses the dining room where the king is finishing his breakfast alone. Nowadays, he seems to be doing most things alone, and as a result, the tension in the castle has yet to be resolved.

Henrik brushes his hands together above his empty plate, an unimpressed frown decorating his expression. "It isn't any of your concern, Your Grace. And I would ask you to watch your words," he says, but with all of the history behind them, the only threat he can make is an empty one. It is also quite obvious that he is severely outnumbered in any area where he and his wife are on opposite sides. "And to whom it concerns, I spoke with her this morning."

By now, Rosalind is halfway to the doorway that leads into the corridor, but Henrik's words are enough to cause her to freeze and turn. "About more than her schedule and what meetings she is to cover today?" There is barely a pause before she continues, but only because anyone currently residing in the castle could likely answer that question without hesitation. "When will this end, Henrik? Who are you angry with? I will not be the... carrier between you. Clean up your own mess."

"For heaven's sake--you don't think I have tried?" Henrik's words hang in the air for a moment, but it feels much longer as Rosalind allows him to stew in the uncomfortable quiet, giving only a shrug in acknowledgment.

"I am starting to think..." He continues, shifting in his seat, "that I can't. That we can't. Every time we do, we... argue. Or sit in silence." Silence as comfortable as the one currently filling in the space between him and his highest advisor.

Though the long dining table separates them, Rosalind glances down at her plate, to where the spiral of the sliced croissant is still steaming. In a moment filled with a truly self-serving fantasy, she wonders what the chances would be of throwing it in a perfect arc across the room so it would come in contact with Henrik. Too far, probably. "Have you considered..." Her eyes meet his, finally, and Henrik feels a bit of relief relax his shoulders "Having a third party in the room? Not me--God no, but... someone to keep you accountable? Because if you really hope to fix anything, I agree. Your time is running out. She has been plenty patient." Again, barely any time is offered to consider the sentiment before she turns and continues through the tall doorway.

--

"No, stay." A deep breath slips from his lips in a stream as his assistant pauses midstep after being addressed. Though his eyes widen, he gives the king a nod before stepping off to the side, remaining just in the corner of his eye. From there, Henrik's focus lands immediately on Juliet. "...can we talk?"

It is more of the same silence that fills much of the conversation. It's hard, he realizes. And of anything about his job, this wasn't supposed to be the difficult part. This was supposed to be the one thing he was sure about. When did that change?

For a while, it feels like that invisible wall between them is just as impermeable as it has been since Juliet first shared the news that managed to provide this great divide in the first place, but then her confession slips out, and Henrik pauses. "What do you mean?" A deep sigh leaves him and he doesn't even notice as his assistant slips from the room, leaving the door ajar so as to not disrupt the couple's conversation. "How could it have been?" They have been talking about this for so long that he could almost forget how it all got out of hand. "It wasn't your fault. It... it has been a long road, but none of that was your fault."

[envolvenuances]

and I think child modelling should be illegal I'm not even joking

[skitskatdacat63]

.

[kavehater]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭