#our histories are intertwined with each other

[hindahoney]

The shooting in Jacksonville, FL exemplifies the unified struggle that the Black and Jewish communities face. The shooter wore a swastika, one of his firearms was engraved with a one, and beforehand he wrote an antisemitic and racist journal for the police to find (similar circumstances for the mall shooting in May in which the shooter also had Nazi tattoos, and the Christ Church shooting, in which he was active on Nazi sites and wrote an antisemitic/racist manifesto). Neo-Nazism has become a full epidemic, and the Jewish and Black communities are the ones targeted the most.

Jewish communities, as we always have and always will, firmly stand with Black communities who are still currently reeling from this attack.

[myfandomhalf]

To be clear, there will be NO 🙅‍♀️ multishipping on this blog. That’s all fine and well for some people, power to you! But I am not one of them. When I ship it’s because I think those two characters are so intertwined together and have a bond that nothing can separate. They are separate halves, twin flames, soulmates, preordained by the stars, meant to be, you get it. And I like shipping based on canon content, I just don’t think it’s fun to base a ship off headcanons, but that’s just me. So if you see me ship a pair on this blog, you can be sure, with 100% confidence, that I do not and will never ship either of those characters with someone else.

[shinobicyrus]

I think that mainstream liberal politics in the United States (which encompasses much of the Left/Center-Leftism of the Democrats) are allergic to any kind of criticism of the US Military because of the Vietnam War. Specifically, the belief that being anti-war meant you were being anti-American and worse: anti-troop.

I'm sure many an American can recall some vague anecdote of Vietnam War Veterans returning home only to be literally spat on by hippies and anti-war protestors whilst calling them "baby killers." This is a thing that my own parents have told me, and by all appearances it never happened. In fact, the prevailing theory of where this myth came from is that real occurrences of anti-war protestors (some of whom were veterans of the very war they were protesting) were spat on by pro-war protestors; the story twisted to serve the political ends of the pro-Imperialist, pro-war right.

But it doesn't matter that it never happened. It's burrowed into the cultural memory of America, so the fact that it never happened doesn't really matter all that much. Much like myth around the POW-MIA flags, another fever dream born from the Vietnam War.

This myth of "disrespecting the troops" is so persistent and has so pervaded the psyche of American political debates surrounding war that it is felt into the current day. It's actually quite a deviously clever tactic; the evilest Uno reverse card: take a movement that was lead by a lot of veterans, and accuse it of being anti-veteran. It's amazing how quickly it shuts down the discussion - or derails it before anything of consequence can be said.

Because what is the alternative, for the Right? For those in power? When returning soldiers are criticizing the war crimes of the state, who are telling people all the terrible things they saw being done on their behalf...then people start questioning things. "Why are we sending our children to die in some foreign land" turns into "why are we bombing other people's children?" Then people start asking who it serves, who profits from it, why is there a bigger industry around instruments of murder rather than things that make people's lives better? Well that kind of talk starts making Empires nervous.

(And if trying to legitimize the movement doesn't work, you can always shoot them)

I remember during the height of Post 9/11 Hysteria when any criticism of the US government or how it conducted its "war on terror" meant you were "letting the terrorists win." Today, any protest of the documented war crimes of the IDF (itself an organ of US Imperialism armed with US-made weapons) is called being "pro-Hamas" rather. They're not against the senseless massacre of civilians, no no, they're supporting the terrorists!

The pro-war, pro-imperialist right has mastered de-legitimizing any kind of mainstream dissent or criticism, forcing most feckless liberal politicians into a highly defensive, "I ain't no hippie" stance on even the simplest talking points. When we can barely criticize even military expenditures in the current political landscape, it's no wonder the real evils American Imperialism and the military industrial complex never even comes up.

It pains me the way leftism in the US is framed as “the government is spending all their money on the military when they should be funding welfare for us :(” When in reality like maybe we shouldn’t be funding the military because it is responsible for the murder of millions worldwide and it is one of the key tools in maintaining US hegemony? It completely overlooks the fact the economic success of the US is dependent on extracting wealth from other countries and doing so through violence. Government funded programs and public infrastructure exist in any capacity thanks to the fact that the American government and all American industries (at this point in time) have amassed enormous amounts of capital off of the labor and resources of imperialized and colonized nations. This type of response to imperialism leaves the central problem of imperialism entirely unaddressed, instead focusing those who benefit from living in the imperial core. Like yes privatization in the US is especially severe amongst Western nations but… your life is possible thanks to the exploitation of people in the Global South. American leftism is just entirely lacking in internationalism. We must reject such nationalistic conclusions and impress the needs of the global working class.

[cuddlytogas]

So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.

See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.

But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...

What is the difference between this and this?

Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?

Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.

But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.

And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.

But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.

See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!

As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.

And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:

So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?

Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.

In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.

In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.

This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).

Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.

More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.

This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.

A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.

But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.

[grimoiresheart]

nothing will ever put into words how beautiful, rich and complex the history of butches and femmes is. the way these identities encapsulate the nuance of dyke gender, affection and the inherent longing to be seen - truly seen for who we are, in a world that often times, seems to have forgotten us.

thinking of those who came before us, how the ofos butches would curl a cigarette in their hands, and watch a femme from across the bar with long nails tap her glass, in anticipation of that one moment that tells them both it was all worth it. the gentle smearing of lipstick, the confidence from straightening out a tie. we have always performed for one another, and known each other far beyond the capability or understanding of anyone outside of our community.

i long to see the theatrics, the drawn out gazes filled with the possibilty of something more. the love letters adorned with perfume and spring violets, a gentle hand finding its way underneath the hem of a worn out vest. i long to love and be loved in the only way that we have ever known, with unbridled fervor spilling out at the edges, with the intimacy found beside candlelight and intertwined between satin sheets. the promise that we will always find each other.

[zombvic]

enemies to lovers w kenan??🙏🙏

EYE TO EYE (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n and a certain turkish-german football player dont see eye to eye

face claim : no one exact

notes : thank you for the request !! hope its like you wanted :3

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , childhood "enemies"

Ever since you can remember, Kenan has been a constant presence in your life. From childhood, you two never saw eye to eye. He was always around, whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, or a neighborhood barbecue. The day your families became intertwined marked the start of what seemed like the ideal love story—the boy and girl next door. But reality was far from that.

As your families grew closer, it seemed like opposites attracted for them. Kenan was considered the typical jock: charismatic, popular, always surrounded by friends, and stereotypically, a football player. You, on the other hand, were far more reserved but possessed a strangely attractive confidence.

Kenan always challenged you. As the years passed, your dynamic didn't change. Your parents wanted you to be friends, but neither of you made the effort. Despite your parents' close friendship and frequent attempts to foster a bond between you, neither cared enough.

As you both grew older, the dynamics shifted subtly. The teasing evolved into playful banter, and the challenges turned into a mutual respect for each other's strengths. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

"Y/n, the Yildiz family invited us for a get-together. Make sure you're on your best behavior," your mother said. You never really understood it; it wasn't you who made a huge deal out of your petty arguments. Hell, it wasn't even you who started the arguments. But it was never Kenan who got scolded; no, he was too perfect for that, wasn't he?

"And please, no more fighting. The last barbecue was more than enough." Ah, yes, the last barbecue—it ended with a small fire and a broken ankle. Obviously, it was my ankle; his football career would be in shambles if he broke his ankle during a friends and family event. But it wasn't my fault; he brought up the famous debate of who's the GOAT of Formula 1. I mean, you're literally German, what do you mean you don't think Schumi is the GOAT? The debate was supposed to be settled by a friendly game of pingpong, but it didn't end so friendly. What was I supposed to do, not dodge the racket he THREW at me? In my humble opinion, my actions were more than justified.

As my mom knocked on their front door, we were greeted by Engin, Kenan's father. Their house was cozy, shared between the parents and three boys. Every time we went over, the atmosphere was welcoming.

Kenan stood at the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face as he welcomed us inside. "Hey, Y/n," he greeted me, his tone surprisingly friendly despite our history.

"Hey," I replied, trying to mask the uneasy feeling his presence always seemed to stir in me. His eyes held some sort of amusement, as if he could sense my discomfort. I walked past to enter the familiar space of their kitchen connected to the backyard entrance.

Engin ushered us towards the backyard where the rest of the family and a few guests were gathered around the barbecue grill. Kenan's brothers were playing football in the yard, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation.

"Hope you're hungry," Engin chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. "We've got plenty to go around."

Kenan slid next to me as we walked to the table, his voice low. "So, how's life?" he asked with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden sincerity. "Um, it's been alright," I replied cautiously. "Busy with school and all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Are you still into that video editing thing you were doing last summer?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise that he remembered. "Yeah, actually. I've gotten some offers from certain companies."

"That's really cool," he said with a nod, a hint of admiration in his voice.

We reached the table where the food was laid out, and Kenan held out a plate for me to take first. I couldn't help but notice the small gesture of consideration, a far cry from our usual banter or tense interactions.

"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling a flicker of warmth towards him that I hadn't expected. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Kenan than the cocky football player I always assumed him to be.

As the evening went on, the atmosphere at the barbecue shifted from tentative civility to a surprising ease between Kenan and Y/n. Engin's expert grilling skills were matched by his knack for storytelling, keeping everyone entertained with humorous anecdotes from his youth. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional cheer from the ongoing soccer match in the yard.

Kenan and Y/n found themselves drawn into a playful banter over who could stack their burger higher with toppings, each trying to outdo the other with combinations that ranged from classic to unconventional. It became a mini competition, with Kenan daring Y/n to try his "ultimate burger creation" while she countered with her own daring concoction of flavors.

"You're seriously putting pineapple and jalapenos together?" Kenan raised an eyebrow, eyeing Y/n's bold choice of toppings skeptically.

"Why not?" Y/n grinned mischievously, carefully balancing the overflowing tower of burger ingredients. "It's a winning combo."

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he expertly flipped another burger on the grill. "Alright, I'll admit, you've got guts. Let's see if it actually tastes as good as it looks."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the backyard, Kenan's brothers approached with mischievous grins on their faces. "Hey, Kenan! Y/n! How about a friendly game of football?" they called out enthusiastically, kicking a soccer ball playfully towards them.

Kenan glanced at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You guys sure you want to challenge us? You might regret it," he teased, his competitive spirit already rising to the surface.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a surprising rush of excitement at the prospect of playing alongside Kenan instead of against him for once. "Bring it on, boys," she replied confidently, flashing a grin that mirrored Kenan's.

With a nod from Kenan, they divided into teams—Kenan and Y/n against his brothers. The game started with playful banter and competitive energy, but something shifted as they played. Kenan's skill on the field was undeniable, his passes precise and his movements fluid. Y/n found herself naturally falling into sync with him, their teamwork surprisingly effortless.

They communicated with quick glances and nods, strategizing on the fly and covering each other's positions seamlessly. Kenan's brothers put up a good fight, but Kenan and Y/n's teamwork proved to be a formidable force.

"Nice pass!" Kenan called out as Y/n dribbled past Eren with skillful footwork, earning an approving nod from him.

"You're pretty good at football, Kenan. You should consider becoming a professional," Y/n joked with a playful smirk.

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head modestly. "I don't know about that. I'd probably miss all the glamour of backyard games like this."

"Get a room, lovebirds," His brothers teased from the sidelines, a mischievous grin on their face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Kenan. "Ignore him. They're just jealous that we make a better team than they do."

The game continued with laughter, cheers, and occasional playful taunts exchanged between teams. As the friendly competition progressed, Kenan and you found themselves enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't before. The usual tension and rivalry gave way to shared goals and a shared sense of accomplishment each time they scored or defended together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the game wound down, The brothers conceded defeat with good humor, congratulating Kenan and Y/n on their victory.

"You guys were awesome!" Kenans brother exclaimed, grinning broadly as he bumped fists with Kenan and Y/n. "We'll have to challenge you again sometime."

Kenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Anytime, little bro. Just be prepared to lose again," he teased playfully.

As they gathered their breath and laughter echoed in the cooling evening air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of camaraderie with Kenan. Working together had brought out a side of him she hadn't seen before—the focused, determined athlete who also knew how to have fun and appreciate teamwork.

"Thanks for the game, Y/n," Kenan said quietly, his tone sincere as he glanced at her with a soft smile.

You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips in response. "Likewise, Kenan. It was... refreshing," she admitted, surprising herself with the honesty of her words.

As they shared a meaningful smile, the evening continued with laughter, shared stories, and the hope for more moments like this—where they weren't basically on the verge of killing eachother, but actual friends, if not more.

im sorry this kinda doesnt have plot and sounds kinda npc but erm ! ignore that plz

[starlight-bread-blog]

How The Bond of Zuko and Katara Enhances the Themes of A:TLA

When a subplot is intertwined with a story’s core themes, it creates a more cohesive experience, resonating more profoundly with viewers. For this reason, a good writer must always aspire for a coherent narrative in all of its aspects. So, what are the themes of A:TLA, and how do Zuko and Katara fit into them? To answer that, I’m going to break down each theme and discuss how it relates to the pair.

On Destiny

Your destiny might be unexpected, controversial, but it’s yours. No one can take it away from you. In Lake Laogai, Zuko and Iroh shared the following exchange:

Even if people try, even if it isn’t acceptable to other people. Your identity will always be there, and you must make the choices that reflect your identity will always be there, because it’s your destiny. Near the series finale, in Sozin’s Comet Part 2, Iroh said:

“Sozin's Comet is arriving, and our destinies are upon us. Aang will face the Fire Lord.When I was a boy, I had a vision that I would one day take Ba Sing Se. Only now do I see that my destiny is to take it back from the Fire Nation,so the Earth Kingdom can be free again”.

In the end, everyone goes to their destinies. The destinies that they’re forging. Aang will spare the fire lord, Toph will use her metalbending to take down the airship, and Zuko and Katara will stand side by side against Azula. Who would have thought? Your destiny might be really surprising. No one could have guessed that Toph would invent metalbending, or that Aang would meet a lion turtle, or that Katara would stand by her former enemy’s side - by Zuko’s side.

Katara and Zuko’s closeness fulfill the show’s themes of destiny by being subversive and unexpected. They are fire and water, the daughter of the chief and the fire lord. Their friendship is rather odd, but it’s their destiny - not what was forced upon them. Moreover, their bond is subversive because it didn’t start as lovingly as it ended. Zuko and Katara were enemies, no one could have anticipated that they’ll grow close, but as I said, and the show said, destiny can come from an unexpected place.

On Diversity

Separation is an illusion as well as the four nations.

Zuko and Katara were not only enemies, from opposite sides of the war, but they were polar opposites – the Prince of the Fire Nation and the last waterbender of the small Southern Water Tribe, fire and water. However, all of these differences didn't matter for them to form a beautiful friendship. Because they're not actually separate, they're both kind empathetic people. They have much in common. The superficial predetermined differences aren't separation. They're one in the same.

Additionally, one will gain from learning about the other nations, or as Iroh put it:

Zuko and Katara leaning into their opposites ties into the theme. In fact, Zuko himself learned to redirect lightning from a waterbending technique.

On Redemption

Many characters in A:TLA were given a chance to redeem themselves. From Mai and Ty Lee redeeming themselves by betraying Azula near the end of the show to Iroh whose redemption has long ended before the story starts. A:tla firmly tells us that while the path to redemption can be long and hard, it’s a path worth paving and it’s yours to carve. Zuko’s redemption arc specifically is praised as one of the best redemption arcs in tv history.

A part of Zuko’s journey towards redemption is his interactions with Katara. Earning her forgiveness is his final step into integrating into the Gaang, and his final act of redemption is to jump in front of a lightning bolt for her. It’s significant that it’s Katara who represents these milestones in his arc. He redeems himself to everyone, but not in the same way as Katara. The path to redemption through Katara’s eyes is longer and ends with a bang.

On Morality

Black and white notions of the world are incomplete. The Fire Nation isn’t all evil, as seen in The Headband, their citizens are simply indoctrinated. And there can be band people on the other side of the war, such as Jet. Fire isn’t just destruction, it’s also healing and life. And the opposite of fire can be just as destructive, as seen in The Puppetmaster when Hama showcases her bloodbending. In 06×03 A\ang concludes the following:

“Anyone’s capable of great good and great evil.Everyone, even the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation have to be treated like they're worth giving a chance.”

When Zuko and Katara first met each other, they thought of each other as enemies and nothing more. Katara saw Zuko as his worst self and the manifestation of her hatred of the Fire Nation. In the Crystal Catacombs Katara described him as "the face of the enemy". She saw him as all black and no white, but then he opened up. They discover they actually have shared experiences despite being on opposing sides. When he betrayed her, it seemed to confirm that they're not similar, that everything Katara thought of Zuko was correct. Of course, he came back, but Katara can only forgive him once she lets go of some of her hatred of the Fire Nation. His connection to Katara proves that they’re both seeing the world as shades of gray.

—————————

In conclusion, the profound connection between Zuko and Katara enhances the themes of the show and their connection is a perfect example of the messages it’s trying to put out. Rather it’s about destiny, morality, diversity or redemption, Zuko and Katara’s relationship is remains one of the most relevant examples of these themes in the show.

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

masterlist | next chapter

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5k>>

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). Probably some grammar mistakes because I write things fast.

a/n: New fic alert! Hello, I got this idea and I wanted to write it, so this is going to be a series depending on how this part performs. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When you’re young, you’re naïve

When you’re young, you know everything

But when you’re young, they assume you know nothing,

That’s why two people falling in love at the age of seventeen doesn’t seem interesting. People will assume a love like that, at that age is just a phase with a tragic ending. Tears, broken hearts, and the promises of never falling in love again.

But this one was different. You and Joel were different, two souls that had met at the age of five, growing up together as best friends, until one fell and then the other. One shared a kiss, and the best friends turned into lovers. 

Isn’t that typical?

It was. Both of you knew, but still, you didn’t listen. Both of you become one soul, destined to be together since you were two kids playing hide and seek together. 

Joel and you traveled the twisting roads of adolescence hand in hand as the years passed. Your shared love was a tapestry woven from the thread of shared dreams and whispered secrets. 

Everything around you changed as well. From the carefree days of children to the turbulent storms of adolescence, your friendship has survived it all. Some tears fell like soft rain, washing away the doubts that crept into our hearts, and there were times of joy that resonated through the halls of your shared history.

Yet, with every rock on the road, you found the strength to rise again, your hands tightly intertwined. Joel became your confidant, the keeper of your fears, and the little light of hope during the darkest nights.

When you both turned seventeen, the very age at which outsiders claimed to be the year of mistakes and growing, one kiss changed everything. The connection between you both only deepened. And when the world might have seen you as naïve, you understood the profound love of your bond. It wasn’t a youthful infatuation; it was a love story written in the stars long before you were aware of its existence. 

People whispered their doubts, predicting heartbreak and the inevitable end of your love story. Yet, in the quiet moments when it was just Joel and you against the world, you knew that your love was timeless. The promises made weren't born out of youthful exuberance; they were the solemn vows of two souls who had found their way to each other, over and over again, since the age of five.

Not even when you left Austin to go to college, the odds against you weren’t able to separate you. The odds seemed stacked against you, with skeptics murmuring that the challenges of a long-distance relationship would surely spell the end of your story. But you defied those expectations.

Letters and late-night calls became your lifelines, bridging the physical gap between you. Each word written and every shared moment over the phone felt like a testament to the enduring strength of your love. You didn’t let the rust grow between you, neither did he. 

He was there the day you graduated, being the first face, you found across the room smiling back at you with proudness. Through that look and grin, there was an oath behind, not only the survival of your love but to distance emerging even stronger. He being there meant that, after this, you both could build your life together, get married, have children, and grow old together. 

“I can’t wait to marry you” he whispered against your lips that night as you made love. 

“And I can’t wait to be your wife” you whispered back, whimpering under his touch.

But with the past of the months, the fights started. He coming home late from work, and your struggling with finding a job added a layer of stress to your relationship. Frustration crept into our conversations, and what were once gentle whispers of love turned into heated exchanges, grappling with the frustration of job rejections and the sense of inadequacy that came with each disappointment. Joel, burdened by the demands of his career, found solace in the late hours at the office.

Spending time with a colleague you dislike because of their closeness, because he seemed to treat her the way he wasn’t treating you now. 

Conversations about the state of your relationship became unavoidable. One evening, as the weight of your unspoken grievances hung heavy in the air. 

"Joel, we can't keep going on like this. I need more from our relationship, and I can't shake off the feeling that you're finding solace elsewhere."

His response was a defensiveness grunt, speaking about the pressure at work, how he needed to prove himself, and how your job search struggles only added to his burden.

“So is it my fault?” You shouted. 

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sharpness of my words. The defensiveness waned, replaced by a hint of realization. "No, it's not about fault," he began, his voice softer now, "but the pressure at work has been consuming me. I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to balance everything." He sighed, “And you’re not even able to find a job” he added, the words hitting like a sharp jab amid our emotional battlefield.

He ended up calling you a mistake, and you called him a coward. 

 The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of your words sank.  The frustration that had been simmering boiled over into a heated exchange. "A mistake?" you retorted, your voice edged with hurt and anger. "Is that how you see me? As some kind of burden or failure?"

Joel's expression shifted again, torn between regret and the lingering pressure that had driven him to lash out. "I didn't mean it like that," he began, but his attempt to backtrack only fueled the growing storm.

As the argument escalated, each word became a weapon in our emotional battlefield. Accusations flew, and the once-clear path of our relationship was now obscured by the fog of resentment and hurt. The dreams we had whispered to each other now seemed distant and unattainable, replaced by the harsh reality of you present.

“Maybe we should break up,” you said, motionless, tired of the fights. “And I will leave, and take the job I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to leave you here” 

continued, the weight of the decision evident in my voice. The sacrifice echoed the painful truth that sometimes love, even when genuine, isn't always enough to weather the storms life throws your way.

Joel's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and realization, the gravity of the moment sinking in. The prospect of parting ways, of unraveling the life we had built together, cast a shadow over the room.

“Oh, are you surprised I’m not the failure you thought I was?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping through the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

The room felt charged with the emotional storm of your shared history, the dreams you had woven now frayed and brittle. The vulnerability of that moment exposed the raw truth that love, no matter how deep, could sometimes prove inadequate in the face of life's relentless challenges.

Love has not always survived. 

Joel's silence spoke volumes, his eyes reflecting the complexity of emotions that swirled within. The air felt heavy with regret, sadness, and the painful realization that a choice needed to be made.

And when the lack of words persisted, and in the heavy silence, you walked towards the bedroom, the weight of the decision settling into every step you took. The room, once a shared bright sanctuary, now witnessed the dismantling of a life we had built together.

In the dim light, you fumbled for your suitcase, hands trembling as you threw clothes inside. Each piece of clothing now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping away. The vulnerability of that moment, intensified by the tears that blurred your vision, underscored the reality that sometimes love, despite its depth, couldn't shield us from the harshness of life's trials.

The sound of the zipper closing echoed in the room, marking the final choice that had been made. Joel remained in the doorway, a silent observer of the disintegration of a shared reality. His eyes, a mosaic of conflicting emotions, spoke of a recognition that what once was could no longer be sustained.

As you carried the suitcase, its weight mirrored the heaviness in your heart. The room, filled with the echoes of your memories from the past, felt emptier with every step toward the door. The unspoken pain lingered a palpable energy that accompanied you through the threshold of a life I had known so intimately.

The choice had been made, and in that moment, the gravity of our decision settled in—the dreams you had shared now relegated to the shadows of what could have been. The door closed behind you, and at that exact moment, you didn’t know how you were anymore, not when this was the first time you would start navigating life without Joel.

And then, when the months passed by, you were face to face again. He tried to change the ending, but it was late. He was going to be a father of a child that wasn’t yours. 

And weeks later, on a night you were out, drinking all your tears and sadness, you met a guy, and three months after, you found out you were pregnant.

Joel and you were going to become parents, but with different people. 

And it seemed like all people were telling the truth. 

When you’re young you know nothing.

Thirteen years later...

Eyes focused on the road, breathe in, breathe out, thoughts wild around your head. 

You were driving back to Austin, back to your past self, to the five-year-old you, back to the seventeen-year-old you, back to…

No, you thought.

Tara was sitting in the backseat, earphones in her ears probably listening to a song that would take her away from her reality, from moving from her home, leaving behind every single thing she grew up loving.

Just like you, you said to yourself. 

“Hey, sweets are you okay?” you asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Can we stop for a burger? I’m hungry” She avoided the question, again

“Your father is waiting for us at our new house, then we will get lunch, okay?”

She nodded, not uttering more words. She nodded, offering no more words. Then, she broke the silence. "I’m mad. I’m mad at you for leaving your life behind for Dad."

Confused, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

“You just had your job that you loved back at home; you had your friends. I had my life too and now we have to move here just because Dad said so?” Tara's frustration spilled out.

“He got a better job, that means—”

“That means nothing,” she interrupted. “Look, Mom, I know he loves me, and that he may love you, but he has always loved himself more than us. I think it's unfair for you to leave all that behind just for him.”

“Tara,” you whispered, struck by her perceptiveness. You thought it was incredible how at thirteen she was so aware of every single detail, and how much he knew you.

“I know if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t leave that life behind,” Tara spoke, her words cutting through the tension in the car. "I know there’s no man you would have done that for.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of the revelation settling in before you spoke. "There was one man before," you confessed, catching Tara’s attention. "His name was Joel," you said, the words heavy with the weight of memories, almost feeling a lump forming in your throat.

As you mentioned Joel's name, the car seemed to carry an unspoken history. Tara's eyes widened with curiosity and surprise.

“He was my best friend when we were kids,” you began, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. “We grew up together, faced the challenges of growing older, and eventually, we fell in love.”

“What happened to him?” she asked. 

"We broke up, and just when we tried to get back together, he found out he got another woman pregnant," you explained.

"He cheated," Tara concluded, a hint of judgment in her tone.

"No, he didn’t, but... I couldn’t bear to be with him, so I left."

"And then you met Dad," she deduced.

You nodded, acknowledging the sequence of events that had shaped your life. The car carried the weight of shared revelations, and the road to Austin became a journey not only through physical landscapes but also through the landscapes of your history.

Tara sat in the backseat, absorbing the complexities of your past.

"But," you added, "even though Joel and I didn't end up together, he will always hold a special place in my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, and Joel was a significant chapter in my story."

The air inside the car was a combination of anxiety and reflection as it approached its new home in Austin. Tara sat quietly in the backseat, her thoughts appearing lost in the stories you had told, still absorbing the specifics of your past.

As you approached the curb, your tires crunched on the cobblestone driveway. The foreign exterior of the new house appeared before you like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of your new existence. Dwight, your husband, stood on the porch, a bright smile on his face as he noticed the car.

Exiting the vehicle, you opened the back door for Tara, and the three of you stood together in the driveway. Dwight approached, a mixture of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

"Welcome home!" he exclaimed, wrapping both of you in a warm embrace.

Tara offered a half-smile, still processing the weight of the move and the revelations that had unfolded during the journey. Dwight, ever perceptive, sensed the mix of emotions in the air.

"How was the drive?" he inquired, glancing between you and Tara.

"Long," Tara replied tersely, her eyes flickering with a hint of weariness.

Dwight, aware of the challenges the move presented, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy, Tara, but I promise you'll find your place here."

The aroma of fresh starts penetrated the air as the three of you entered your new home. Dwight gave Tara a quick tour of the house, pointing out the right closets and stating to her that moving would be a good thing.

Dwight and Tara began to develop their rhythm of connection while unpacking boxes and settling into the unfamiliar home. The new place of residence began to turn from a new area to an area where shared memories would be established as the day progressed.

You couldn't help but think about Joel as you gazed around at the shifting landscape of your life, the echoes of the past fading into the background as you welcomed the present and the promise of a new chapter in your life in Austin.

It had been a week since Tara started school here, and she had begun to settle at the new school, at the unfamiliar hallways, and faces that were yet to become friends. Adjusting to a new environment, especially in the tumultuous teenage years, was never an easy feat. 

That’s what you feared the most. 

One afternoon, as you were going about your routine at the new house, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed the school's number, and a wave of concern washed over you. You answered with a sense of trepidation, already fearing the worst.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Evans from High School. Am I speaking with Tara's mother?"

"Yes, this is her mother. Is everything okay?" you asked, your heart racing.

"I'm calling to inform you that there was an incident at school today involving Tara. There was a fight, and we need you to come in for a meeting to discuss the situation." 

A mix of worry and confusion filled the air as you tried to process the information. A fight? This was entirely out of character for Tara.

"Of course, I'll be there," you replied, a knot forming in your stomach.

As you arrived at the high school, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. The unfamiliar hallways seemed to close in around you as you made your way to the principal's office. Tara and another girl with curly hair stood outside the door,

Behind the curly-haired girl, a man loomed, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, dismissing the improbable thought as wishful thinking. As you walked ahead, the distance between you and the trio narrowed.

Entering the principal's office, the air seemed charged with tension. Mrs. Evans greeted you, her expression stern but professional. However, your attention was drawn to the man beside you, and when you finally looked, Joel stood there, his mouth agape, his eyes locked onto yours.

Time seemed to hang suspended in that moment as a flood of emotions washed over you—surprise, disbelief, and a surge of memories that had long been tucked away. The collision of your past and present felt surreal, and the room seemed to blur around the edges.

You were 22 again.

Neither of you said anything, instead, you allowed the principal to talk about the situation that had happened. 

Mrs. Evans, proceeded to share the details of the incident with a measured tone, bringing the focus back to Tara and her well-being. As she spoke, you and Joel maintained an uneasy silence, glancing at each other intermittently with expressions that betrayed a mixture of emotions.

"There was an unfortunate incident earlier today," Mrs. Evans began, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "Tara and another student, Sarah, found themselves in a situation where a group of boys was bothering Tara. Sarah intervened to defend her, and the situation escalated into a physical altercation."

Your concern for Tara heightened, but a glimmer of gratitude surfaced as you heard about Sarah's protective stance. You stole a glance at Joel, whose eyes betrayed a complex mix of emotions—perhaps a reflection of his own memories and regrets.

"Both Tara and Sarah are being appropriately addressed," Mrs. Evans continued, her eyes shifting between the individuals in the room. "We take any form of violence seriously, but we also recognize the need to ensure our students feel safe and supported."

As the principal delved into the steps being taken to address the situation, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the reunion with Joel in such unexpected circumstances. The shared concern for Tara momentarily bridged the gap of years and unresolved emotions, creating an unspoken connection.

The meeting concluded with an agreement on counseling for Tara and a commitment to monitoring the situation closely. As you rose to leave, the weight of the encounter lingered. So, you took Tara, delicately by the arm, and walked away from the ghosts from your past. 

“Hey, Tara wait!” The voice of Sarah called out, getting closer to us. 

Tara stopped in her tracks and turned to face the girl with beautiful curly hair, with a smile on her face.

“What?” Tara asked delicately.

“I want you to know I don’t regret what I did for you” She began, “And I have no idea what is like to be in new a place because I’ve always been here, and I also want you to know that you have a friend here. I will defend you from all those stupid guys making fun of you” 

A grin appeared on your daughter’s face at Sarah's words, and she enveloped the girl in a hug murmuring a quiet “thank you” you had still been able to hear. 

Your heart burst, not only for the happiness of your daughter finding a friend but for the tranquility she would feel from now on. Yet you couldn’t bear to lift your gaze from the girls because you knew once you did it, you would have to look at the same face that made you leave this city.

“Okay, Tara it’s time to go home,” you said, delicately grabbing your daughter’s arm, “and thank you, Sarah, for what you did for her”

“No problem” she said, smiling at you.

Once you both, said goodbye, you and Tara walked toward the car until a voice made you both stop your pace, and your heart beated like a drum.

“Yes?” you turned around, finding the strength to face Joel.

“I think it may be great for us to talk about our daughters” Joel spoke, buying some more seconds of your presence.

“Everything is clear." your voice came in a monotonous tone.

“But not between us” he said, with an undertone.

But instead of words, a heat overcame you, and you felt the skin around your eyes burn, you lifted you hand to your eyes, preventing the tears welled up in the corner to fall. But once you did it, you started crying, not knowing how to react and facing your past in front of you, how facing the man you had loved your whole life after thirteen years without any trace of him.

Joel took a step closer, his expression concerned. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice softening.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself. “It’s okay,” you said, taking a step back from his touch “I’m just stressed with all the changes” you lied, and grace a tiny smile towards him “We can talk another day when I’m settled.”

He simply nodded, caressing his chest with the palm of his hand in an attempt to take away the pain and confusion of seeing you again. 

With a daughter, and probably married to another man.

“Drive safe,” he said, with a caring touch in his voice.

You nodded, turning on your heel, walking towards the car without looking back. 

“You know her, don’t you?” Sarah asked his father, after seeing his longing expression as he watched you walking away from him. 

“I did once,” he said, still looking at your car as if you would get out and tell him you wanted to try again. 

And inside the car, the events weren’t different from outside. Once you put your seatbelt, Tara kept looking at you as if you were going to break at any moment. 

“He is that Joel, right?” She asked you carefully, trying to get her answer. 

You nodded. 

Tara nodded, her expression was pure concern "Are you okay, Mom?"

You managed a reassuring smile, even though the tears still lingered in the corners of your eyes. "I'll be fine, sweetheart. It's just unexpected to see him again after so many years." 

You took a glimpse in the rearview mirror as you drove away from the curb, leaving Joel standing there. As your mind lingered on a sudden encounter, the familiar surroundings began to blend as well. Your heart was heavier with the burdens of the days gone by, and the tears you pushed back threatened to spill over, again. 

As you drove home, the stillness between you and Tara was loaded with unspoken feelings. Your mind raced with old memories, and you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of weakness that Joel's comeback had caused in you.

What were the odds? You thought.

Meanwhile, Joel stood still, watching the car disappear into the distance. The question asked by Sarah still hanging in the air. "You know her, don't you?" Sarah questioned her father, who appeared to be absorbed in the memories that your presence had triggered.

As he tried to make sense of what was happening, his mind was in a rush of emotions. It felt strange and overwhelming to see you after thirteen years. The agony of the past came forward, and he felt for just a moment like an outsider in his own life, watching the movie of the both of you being played all over again.

Joel paused briefly before breaking the silence. "I've missed you," he said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of reconciliation.

You nodded, attempting to conceal the residual worries that had grown during the three months you had spent away from each other “I've missed us as well. Perhaps we should try again," you reasoned.

However, as the talk progressed, the truth began to appear like a storm on the other side of the sky. Joel's hesitation hinted at something more serious, something he had been holding him back. 

"But first, I need to tell you something," he finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I got involved with someone else during our time apart."

The look on your face was enough for him to know that the news he was about to deliver was going to change everything between the both of you.

“She is pregnant.” He confessed, almost inaudible. 

The room seemed to shrink as the weight of his words settled in. Shock and disbelief mingled with the pain of what it seemed as a betrayal in your mind, but you knew it wasn’t. You had hoped for a fresh start, but this revelation shattered those hopes.

He had a girl to take care of, a baby he was going to love.

"You're going to be a father?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation was a heavy blow, and you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the news.

Joel nodded; his eyes filled with remorse. "I didn't plan for this. It just happened."

“No. I don’t need an explanation of what you did when we weren’t together” Hurt, and resignation welled up inside you. "But we cannot be together. No, when you’re going to have a child with someone else. It’s not fair to any of us.” 

Joel's remorse-filled gaze met yours, and he nodded in acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. The dreams of rekindling what once was seemed to crumble in that moment, replaced by the harsh truth of divergent paths.

"This doesn’t change anything between us," Joel whispered, his voice laden with regret, trying to reach for you.

“It does!” you called out, “It does change everything” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the waves of emotion crashing within. "I hope you find the happiness you're looking for, Joel. But it can't be with me."

You stepped closer to him, cupping one side of his face with your hand, tracing his cheek with your thumb, and trying to take a picture of him with your eyes. 

One last picture, the last time you will have him this close to you. 

And you leaned in, sealing this goodbye with a last kiss, savoring the sweet taste of his lips mixed with the salt of his tears streaming down your face. He grabbed your face with his last strength holding you back from slipping from his fingers, but once you pulled away, and looked at him one last time. 

Then, you turned away, leaving the room, and, in a way, leaving a chapter of your life behind. The door closed with a soft click, sealing the end of a love story that had once held a promise, but it ended with Joel losing his princess. 

“Let’s go, baby girl,” he said after a moment, wrapping his arm around Sarah, and walking to the car. 

Tara kept stealing glances at you from the passenger seat, sensing the urgency of the scenario. The worry could be seen in her eyes, and you couldn't help but notice how perceptive she had become.

The car pulled to a stop in front of your house, which had become your new home in a place of spirits of the buried skeletons plotted to ruin your life. Tara unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face you; her face filled with apprehension. "Mom, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

You smiled, grateful for the depth of understanding and maturing in your daughter's eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

As you both entered the house, the now familiar surroundings did little to ease the whirlwind of emotions within you. The past had a way of resurfacing when you least expected it, and Joel's reappearance had reopened wounds you thought had healed.

Once inside, in the quiet living room, your Dwight welcomed both of you with a smile on his face, “Hey is everything okay with you Tara?”

“Yes, Dad, just a misunderstanding,” he said, as if the matter wasn’t important, passing beside upstairs. 

As you and your husband were left alone, he sensed something wrong with you.

"Hey, love, is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for a glimpse of the truth.

You forced a smile, attempting to push away the turmoil that threatened to surface. "Yeah, just a blast from the past today.”

Dwight wrapped his arms around you, a gesture of comfort that, for a moment, allowed you to forget the complexities of the day. He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, and as the warmth of his touch enveloped you, a pang of guilt swept through the figment of your mind, and you couldn’t help but feeling ashamed of yourself for tasting the lips of a man you had settled with because you couldn’t stay with the love of your life.

And you feel disgusted of wanting for him to be Joel.

And at the same time in a different place in the same city, Joel was dreaming of you again.

[bella-goths-wife]

I love your fics so so much!! Maybe could you do a history like the Vs pet but with our owner being overlord husk?

What if Vs pet was owned by husk?

Warnings: alcoholism, gambling, drug use, violence, addiction, enabling

The only way husk would the overlord to own your soul would be if alastor didn’t claim his soul until just before he left for 7 years

So let’s say he meets you before alastor, probably in a similar way to how Vox and you had met with you trying to mig him for a quick buck to buy food

He’d easily defeat you considering at this point you’d only scratch the surface of what your ability could do

But he recognises something in you, somethings he knows resides deep down in him

So he decided to take you in and adopt a stray, for the small price of your soul

You and him both assumed that you’d just end up being a gambling chip for one of his various games, but you were hungry and desperate so you did what you had to do

So husk let you bask in his life of glory as an overlord, he took you with him to every casino, bar and club that he went to and he let you live in his lifestyle

Not that you weren’t accustomed to it, you were a partyer in your life and old habits die hard

That’s when husk began to like you as a person, when he and you would indulge yourselves on a diet of alcohol and any drugs that took your fancy for the evening

He also grew to like you more when he found himself winning more games with you standing by his side, that was when you coined the nickname of his ‘lucky charm’

But he saw you in a different way the day that he took it to far with his drinking, he crashed and it wasn’t pretty

He did everything possible to push you away and hurt you so you couldn’t see him in such a vulnerable state, but you simply grit your teeth and bared it as you cleaned him up and used your ability to gently play music to calm him

You recognised the crash, you’d had so many that replicated it perfectly

You and husk were mirrors of each other in more ways then one

On that day husk began to view you as family, someone irreplaceable

You still assumed that you were nothing more than a gambling chip even with his reassurance that he’d never do that to you

While husk was never abusive or mistreated you, the owner and pet relationship between you two was still unhealthy

You both enabled each others bad habits of drinking, gambling and drugs

While husk was protective of you, he couldn’t protect you from the very same vices that had a hold over him

You both lived intertwined within each other, never separated

But that’s where things went wrong, because husk never wanted to be without you he took you to the overlords meeting with him

And that’s where you met alastor

Just like in any other universe where you and alastor meet, there was a familiarity that he couldn’t shake as he fell down the rabbit hole of obsession

That’s when the card games with husk began

Just friendly ones to start, betting on small things such as a cigar of a few bucks

Then it spiralled into something bigger as husk kept losing and becoming more desperate

Eventually souls were put on the betting table and you watched as husk blew through over half of his owned souls within the span of one game, all while begging him to stop before it went too far

Husk brushed you off as he challenged alastor to another game, where he lost all of his souls but one

You

Alastors grin only grew as he offered one last game, if husk won then he would give him all the souls back plus interest

But if he lost then he would have to hand over your soul

You looked at husk desperately as you saw his hesitation

But he eventually agreed and your worst fears all came true at once

It confirmed you were nothing more to him then a gambling chip

He lost the game and you were swept up under alastors arm and whisked away before husk could bet anything more, hidden away from the world

Husk was left with his mistakes as he tried to live with the guilt of losing you

All while you were put down the route of Alastor setting you up in a cottage near Rosie’s cannibal town and being hidden away like you would in the Alastor owns your soul fic

Husk searched desperately for alastor and when he found him he offered him one more bet

A card game where if he won he got you back and if he lost alastor could take his soul

Alastor grinned before accepting and wiping the floor with a desperate husk

Husk thought that even though he lost he could see you again and apologise for what he did, but he was sorely mistaken

He was kept firmly separated from you and was forced to do the grim jobs up until alastor disappeared for seven years

Husk assumed he would never see you again, and he lived with the guilt of what he had done to you everyday

He assumed that alastor had killed you in his sadistic nature

So imagine husks surprise when your brought into the hotel with alastors hand over your shoulders and a bright smile on your face

Tag list:

@lilyalone @ivebeenthearchersstuff @perkypeony @buttercupfangirl @hazbinhotelxreader @corvid007 @the-faceless-bride @fandomaddict505 @repostingmyfavs @idontreallyexistyet @rerarlo @sparkleyfishies

[coolnameloading]

Second place

Summary: Your relationship with Shauna is reaching a boiling point after months of feeling neglected. Will your anniversary dinner fix everything or is it time to move on?

You were Shauna Shipman’s girlfriend—well, you were supposed to be, but lately, you have felt more like her side piece. 

When you first started dating she made it very clear that if Jackie needed her for anything she would be by her side no questions asked. And at first, you were fine with that.

You thought it was cute that your girlfriend was such a loyal friend so you told her it wasn’t a problem.

Oh, what a love-struck idiot you were. 

At first, your relationship was great. You were like a couple pulled straight out of a 90’s movie. You’d wear her jersey to her games, your friends would roll their eyes at how sappy the two of you were, and old couples would see you walking down the street and give each other a knowing look remembering when they were your age.

Everything was absolutely perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You didn’t truly understand the position you put yourself in until about 10 months into your relationship. 

Suddenly Jackie was having problems with her boyfriend Jeff, which meant that your weekly date nights became the stuff of history, and the only time you got to see your girlfriend was briefly at school before she was whisked away to soccer practice, or class, or Jackie.

And even when you did get to see her all she’d talk about was how hard Jeff was being on Jackie. 

“He should be glad Jackie even gave him a chance, she could do so much better.”

She sighed leaning against your car.

“Yep”

You mumbled back only half listening to her while grabbing something from your trunk.

“I mean she’s pretty, popular, and the captain of the women’s soccer team.”

“Mhmm”

Suddenly your door slams shut, you look up and see she’s giving you an annoyed look.

“Are you even listening?”

You sigh and nod, “Sorry Shaun but all we’ve talked about for the last two months is Jackie’s love life.”

Shauna rolls her eyes but reaches for your hand, “Sorry baby but I get so upset with how Jeff treats Jackie.”

“I get that but you’ve been so busy with her and soccer I only get to see you for like fifteen minutes in the morning and all you talk about is Jackie.”

You mumble looking down at your intertwined hands trying not to fidget.

“I just want to spend some more time with you.”

You whisper anxiously.

Shauna doesn’t say anything for a minute and you freak out, you open your mouth to make up some excuse but she cuts you off with a kiss.

“Look our one year is coming up on Saturday, what if we go to that burger place you’ve been wanting to try then we catch a movie?”

She whispers kissing the back of your hand while looking at you with her big puppy dog eyes that always make you melt.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”

“No Jackie?”

“Nope.” 

You nod and kiss her cheek, “Can’t wait.”

Saturday comes, and you arrive at the restaurant. Seeing that Shauna isn’t there yet, you sit down in a booth and wait.

After 10 minutes you start to wonder what’s holding her up.

After 15 you get worried and send her a text ‘Hey I got us a booth, you almost here?’

After 20 minutes and the waitress refilling your water twice you finally get a text back. 

‘Hey baby sorry to do this so last minute but Jackie and Jeff just broke up and she needs me. Hope you understand.’

You stare at your phone for a while, unsure what to text back. You don’t know how long you were staring but the waitress circles back snapping you out of your trance.

“Hey, honey are you ready to order yet?”

She whispers kindly while glancing down at your phone, you tilt it down trying to hide the screen.

You want to answer but you’re afraid you’ll start sobbing the second you open your mouth.

“I-”

“I’m so sorry babe!”

Suddenly Lottie slides into the booth next to you.

“Practice ran late and then my phone died and I couldn't call an Uber to get here so I walked.”

She rambles on and on wrapping an arm around your waist.

You’re too stunned to speak but the waitress laughs and hands Lottie a menu.

“Oh thank goodness I thought the poor thing had been stood up.”

She says smiling at the two of you.

“No ma’am,”

Says Lottie smiling back at the older woman.

“Just ran a little late.”

The waitress walks away leaving the two of you alone in the booth.

“Lottie? What are you doing here?”

You ask watching her look over the menu carefully.

You don’t know much about Lottie. You’ve talked a few times while you waited for Shauna to get out of the locker room, and one time, she asked you for a pen in your English class and never gave it back.

“Well I came to get something to go but then I saw you here and heard the staff whispering that you’ve been here for like a half hour.”

You mumble hiding your face in your hands.

You look over by the entrance and see a group of waitresses whispering and looking at you. When they notice you’re looking, they all split up, and you watch one of them take plates away from a table that is clearly still eating as she tries to look busy. 

“God, can this day get any worse?”

“So why are you here by yourself? Where’s Shauna Isn’t today your anniversary?”

You peek at her from behind your hands.

“You know when our anniversary is?”

She nods chuckling with a small smirk.

“Kinda hard to forget the day Shauna got so annoying. So where is she?”

You take your hands away from your face and sigh trying to keep your voice from cracking.

“She’s with Jackie…I guess she and Jeff broke up and Shauna wanted to stay with her.”

Lottie puts the menu down looking at you in shock.

“You’re fucking with me.”

The waitress comes back and takes your orders. Lottie orders a grilled chicken sandwich with fries and you get a cheeseburger with fries.

As the waitress walks away again Lottie turns back to you.

“And she told you all this last minute?” 

You nod your head looking down at your water cup.

“Yeah, she texted me like 30 seconds before you showed up.”

The waitress comes back with your food and Lottie thanks her handing her a hundred-dollar bill.

“That’s enough right? And you can keep the rest as a tip for keeping my girlfriend here company while I was running late.”

The waitress nods thanking Lottie and walks away probably to brag about her tip.

“You usually don’t pay until you’re done eating ya’ know?”

You mumble trying not to blush, how can she call you her girlfriend so easily and just keep going like nothing happened?

“And what’s with the whole girlfriend comment?”

Lottie eats some of her fries with a grin.

“Well I figured you wouldn’t want them circling back with the check and I called you babe when I first got here so I thought I’d keep playing along.”

The two of you finish your food just talking and having a pretty good time overall, which is shocking given how the day started.

When the two of you get up to leave you grab onto the sleeve of Lottie’s sweater.

“Hey, I um…I got tickets to Beatlejuice Beatlejuice for me and Shauna. Do you wanna….”

Lottie smiles at you, not like her usual confident grin or her haughty little smirk but an actual smile. You let go of her sleeve and look down trying to get the butterflies in your stomach under control.

“Yeah sure lets go.”

[thatsdemko]

it is a glorious sunrise - f.alonso

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Fernando Alonso x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + oral ( m receiving) + established relationship

a/n: had an Alonso brainrot in June… it’s just now getting posted 😅 lol enjoy!!!!

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

There is happiness

In our history

Across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

the white linen sheets are crumpled up at the end of the bed. the warm breeze of beautiful Greece was unbearable, that not even night fall could’ve made the humidity drop.

your bodies, despite the warmth, are intertwined with one another. his large hand rests upon your ass, while his other arm has fallen completely numb underneath your naked body.

you can’t help but move closer to him, wanting to feel his chest slightly rise. you can feel the warmth and moisture against his skin, your finger nails trail over the glisten droplets against his abs causing him to stir awake.

he exhales a moan, hand moving up your back and snaking into your hair, fingers beginning to massage your scalp. the silence is filled with the birds chirping outside the open window, and the sounds of young boys and girls giggling in the distance of the sea. it’s blissful, a beautiful awakening next to him.

you flip onto your stomach, breasts pressed against his bare body, you move upward, hands on both sides of him as your lips connect with his. your eyes close, but his open as he was just beginning to drift back to sleep. your soft sweet lips begin to gently move down his neck, a silent moan escapes his lips, head tilting further back into the pillow.

“ay dios mío,” he whispers feeling your nails rake into his skin, lips and tongue licking the sweat off his body. he squirms underneath you, breath hitching when he feels the warm air against his growing hard cock. looking out the window he sees the sun is just barely rising. the orange and pink skies are just forming, the view is breathtaking. watching the sun come up from the clouds, he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful. that’s until his attention shifts to your wet tongue against his tip, mind switches back to reality.

his chest begins to rise and fall with much more emphasis, you can hear his breath increasing with each passing swipe and flick of your tongue against him. he says he can’t last much longer underneath your wet touch, he’s so close to folding. his fingers are bunching the sheets, knuckles white, he’s trying hard to keep it together.

“amor, please,” his pleas are increasing, you swear the people outside your room could hear him, but you don’t mind. you love having him wrapped around your finger, looking like a damsel in distress. it’s not very often he behaves like this.

your tongue flicks him just right, something he’s never felt before, the way it scrapes against his skin, tickles his own nerves the pleasure makes his legs twitch as his body exhales your reward; his cum.

“Buenos días princesa,” he sighs watching you crawl up from his legs to beside him in the bed. you press your lips against his once again, two of you settling into the mattress comfortably.

“what a beautiful morning, nando.” you say, moving yourself closer so you can rest your head against his chest, two of you watch the sunrise with heavy eyelids and once again fall back into slumber.

There is happiness

[sunset-sprinkles]

The theme of dual perspectives in modern k-dramas :

The idea of presenting stories from the point of views of both the male and the female protagonist sounds refreshing it also adds a layer of depth to understanding the dynamics of their relationships.

"Memories are unstable because some memories are only remembered by one person" - Serendipity's Embrace (2024)

This means that hidden feelings always make way for difference in povs. One might assume what the other feels , but in reality the povs always add a flavour to it. It brilliantly highlights the fact that one situation cannot be judged from the third person's perspective unless we hear both the sides of the same story.

The famous episode 2 of Lovely runner that presents with the pov of Sun-jae that he had always and always been in love with Sol just changes the way we see their love story. And the fact that writers have been continuously coming up with this theme screams that it's indeed the best when it comes to creating a tapestry of emotions and memories.

"Memories don't disappear, they're all smeared into one's soul" - Lovely Runner (2024)

The fact that all these four dramas have been not just plainly romcoms but also presents a source of "interest" in the characters who have known each other for a long time. Cause true feelings just grow and don't dissapear after some moments of staying away from each other.

“Everyone has unforgettable memories from a certain year of their life. They cherish those memories so much that it lasts a lifetime.” - Our Beloved Summer (2022)

All these stories have used "memory" as a tool for story telling. The use of memory as a narrative tool emphasizes the impact of time on relationships. The past isn’t just something that happened; it’s something that continues to live within the characters, influencing their decisions and emotions in the present.

The episode 4 ending of Love next door (2024) symbolizes this same idea when they show the transition from "past perfect -> present perfect continuous"

"Your memories don't mean anything. They are all in the past" - Love Next Door (2024)

By intertwining their perspectives with memories, the writer crafts a narrative that resonates with viewers on a personal level, reminding us of our own cherished or even painful memories and how they’ve shaped our lives. It’s a testament to the idea that we are all, in some way, a product of our past, and that understanding another person often means understanding their history as well.

Here , "First love" also eventually becomes a plot device for exploration. It becomes not just a memory but a recurring theme that influences the characters' actions and decisions. The beauty of exploring first love through two different perspectives is that it allows the audience to see how the same moments can be cherished, misinterpreted, or even forgotten by the two individuals involved. What might have been a fleeting moment for one character could be a defining memory for the other.

"I know all of seunghyo’s firsts: the first day he drank banana milk, the first day he started swimming, the first day he surpassed my height. the only thing I didn’t know was his first love” - Seukryu in Love next door (2024)

[We all know who his first love is though haha]

Therefore,first love, in these dramas, often serves as a touchstone for the characters' development. It’s something they return to, either consciously or subconsciously, as they navigate their current relationships.

[stressforu]

jjk men with a shy s/o PLSSS 🫶🫶🫶🫶

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . . . what it would be like if the infamous duo got a shy s/o.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 . . . sorry if it took a while to post this, I've been on writer's block the past few months and have been unable to post ALL of my drafts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . what you would see in any other cheesy rom-com movies, mentions of passing out on geto's part !

gojo satoru

a very very very teasing person especially when you're being intimate (when you would cover your eyes when his lips touched yours, he would take off your hands that were covering your eyes) takes pleasure in seeing you blush.

a fucking menace in public. I said it. when he's not hearing your voice clearly, he bends down to your eye level and looks at you (which makes your legs wobble) he would not hesitate to do that infront of many people EVEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROWD.

anyway, no amount of words express how this 6-foot-tall guy likes to tease you. He relishes the delight in seeing you hide your blush and how you avert your gaze when he's looking at you.

and btw, even if he's teasing and joking with you all the time, he doesn't humiliate you in front of a crowd just to boost his ego. (he's not the typa guy who humiliates his girlfriend just for 10 minutes of fame)

You and Satoru, despite the busy schedules you've had the entire day, that didn't deter you from seeing each other. The day somehow unfolded tediously, it's boring. I mean literally boring. Because of the big gap between you and Satoru's schedules, you only met until 6 pm.

You walked with Satoru, hand in hand as you watched the sunset at a nearby park you've always frequented. You were talking about your day happily.

"whatchu want for our dinner, babe?" satoru asked, he interlaced his fingers to yours. you blushed, stopping in your tracks and causing both of you to pause. "an-anything..." you mumbled, clearly not satoru hearing. he bent down to your level, and you could see his serene blue eyes. "hm?" he smirked, he loved how you still acted like that even after years of dating. it was one of the many things satoru loved about you.

suguru geto

i feel like suguru would be less teasing than gojo (gojo's a man baby lmao)

when in public, hmm... he'll often tease you by pulling your waist closer to his side. he'll chuckle if u try to get out of his side (you're embarassed people were looking at you)

(he'll pout all day if u do that LIKE— IMAGINE HIM POUTING YES PLS !!)

he'd do the smallest and THOUGHTFUL things... since you're shy, he'd do the ordering and he would never ever ever let you do those stuff if you didn't ask to.

(he likes it when you do the talking, he'll listen to you every day just to hear your cute voice like madam how'd you pull this guy this HAWT)

he'll be supportive of you when you try to get out of your comfort zone, he'll give you compliments that helps you all throughout your journey.

geto finds it amusing that, you an introvert, and he an ambivert could get along like DAWG— satoru always asks how he pulled a girl, this shy at all. well, geto doesn't mind at all. he doesn't mind if he does the talking for you, he'd tell people an excuse if you were getting stuffy from a conversation.

it was a rather hot day, and electric companies' bills turned high due to the amount of people turning on their ACs. it was a glorious day for both of you. you had recently planned a cute sunny date for you and geto, but doubts crashed your thoughts as soon as the week hit you with rainy days. so having a sunny day didn't bother you at all.

you were holding hands with him, your fingers intertwined with his. a bag of goods was in geto's other hand. it was a glorious day, not until you bumped into a friend you had a history with. a boy from middle school, freakingly reminisced your memories with him. INFRONT OF YOUR BOYFRIEND.

as usual, when you're feeling uncomfortable, you always grab the hem of your sweatshirt and smile weirdly. you're trying not to die in front of everybody else. it all seemed to blur, it was getting noisy. and to be honest, you felt kind of passing out.

suguru, who was quick to notice reassured you. he pats the top of your head and quickly came up with an excuse. "sorry bud, we reserved a dinner reservation today. can't miss out." he'd grab the tip of your finger and you both ran. like a married couple who just had eloped.

[maryflorlovyblog]

"But, let's color our steps, with the true sense of self-esteem... Transforming every step taken into braids, which cross each other as we wander, intertwining and creating history, along the paths... There will never be sadness, if we can understand the paths of life, with elation. They may, of course, be confusing, but knowing the true meaning of pride, we will never lose ourselves, on these paths that life shows us..."

[Marilina Baccarat - Brazilian writer —Inserted by: MarilinaBaccarat1]

[trans-axolotl2]

Fuck the DSM. Seriously, fuck the DSM.

The DSM is and always has been used primarily as a method of rationalizing mistreatment of the people it labels as "deviant." When you look at the history of psychiatry, it becomes clear that things like drapetomania, protest psychosis, hysteria, and homosexuality as a disorder were not just thrown into there randomly. Rather, it showcases the power of the DSM: labeling and categorizing ways of being as mental illness opens up new paths of incarceration, social control, and curative violence. I need people to understand that the modern DSM still works like this: these classifications of madness/mental distress/neurodivergence into psychiatric labels encourage society to treat madness/mental distress/neurodivergence with the apparatuses used to eradicate "deviance." Diagnosis is not neutral.

As mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, we deserve access to more explanatory models of madness/mental illness/ neurodivergence than what the psychiatric language of normalcy and disorder offers us. Whether this looks like rejecting diagnosis, embracing varying cultural understandings of mental experience, or any million different ways of interpreting our bodymind, we deserve the option to move beyond clinical language that tries to convince us not to trust ourselves. We deserve to view ourselves wholly, leaving room for all our experiences of madness/mental illness/neurodivergence--the meaningful, the terrifying, the joyful, the exhausting. We deserve to have our own relationship with our madness, instead of being pushed to view ourselves as an inherent "danger to self or others" simply by existing as crazy.

Here's another truth: I hate the DSM, and I still call myself bipolar, a diagnosis that came to me through psych incarceration. While I wholeheartedly reject the DSM and the system intertwined with it, I simultaneously acknowledge and believe that many of the collections of symptoms that the DSM describes are very, very real ways of living in the world, and that the distress that they can cause are very very real. When I say fuck the DSM, I don't mean "Mental distress, disability, and neurodivergence aren't real." Rather, I mean that the DSM can never hold my experience of what it is like to be bipolar, the meaning I derive from experiencing life with cyclical moods. The DSM can't hold within its pages what it's like to see my mood cycle not as a tragedy or disaster, but instead as an opportunity, a gift, to grow and shift and go back to the same place over and over again, dying in winter and blooming again in spring. The DSM can't hold the fact that even though I experience very, very real distress due to those mood cycles--they're still mine and I claim that as something that matters to me. I call myself bipolar as a shorthand to tell people that I experience many things both extreme high and low, but I do not mean the same thing when I say "bipolar" as a psychiatrist does.

When we build community as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people, I want us to have room to share, relate, and care for each other in ways that isn't calling to the authority of a fucked up system with strictly defined categories. I don't want us to take those same ways of thinking and rebrand it into advocacy that claims to fight stigma, but really just ends up reinforcing these same ideas about deviance, cure, control, and danger. I dream of the day when psychiatry doesn't loom as a threat in all of our lives, and I think part of that work requires us as mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people to really grapple with and untangle the ways we label and make meaning of our minds.

ok to reblog, if you want to learn more about antipsychiatry/mad studies check out this reading list.

[dyadicjustice]

can u do like a hazelxreader best friends to lovers

like they’ve both been secretly in love with each other and pining for years but were too scared to say anything (and maybe smut if u write that but if not that’s totally good)

ooooh let me see what magic i can work, bestie. aged up the characters to be in college, so rockbridge falls high is now rockbridge university. unfortunately no smut this time because i am awful at it 😅 but i hope you enjoy this little blurb instead

ao3 link for if u prefer to read there :)

At 11:30, Professor G's class let out without anyone having learned anything actually in the syllabus. But for you, there wasn’t much room in your mind for history lessons anyway. You were too distracted by Hazel sitting next to you, scrolling on Twitter and excitedly showing you every adorable cat meme she came across. 

You’d known each other since the 3rd grade, and it was safe to say that some things never change— especially not your love for one another as best friends. At least until the end of Senior Year, when you’d started to realize that change was inevitable, and you’d fallen hard for her.

You’d been overcompensating these past couple months. You’d purposely try to fly under the radar, so she wouldn’t notice you pining or the countless lingering looks and lip biting. Desperation was heavy in your bones, settled deep in your core. So when you finally return to your shared dorm, she asks, “Seriously y/n, it seems like you’re not even here most days. What’s going on?”  

You know you can’t lie to her. You can’t lie to those dazzling grey eyes, so warm and sweet and sincere. So you sigh and admit, “Are you ready to receive some potentially devastating information that could change the state of our friendship forever?”

She blinks and lets out a quiet chuckle, “Uh, no promises, weirdo. What’s up?” 

“Hazel, I’m being serious. It’s like... important,” you whine.

She hikes an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor, taking a beat to take in your features. She’s suddenly fully aware you’re uncomfortable when you start to wring your hands a bit. To calm your fidgeting, she slips her hands in between them and intertwines your fingers. You feel her sweet gesture start to soothe you, like when puppies snuggle up to you to help you stop crying.

She whispers, “What’s wrong, bean?”

Your eyes start to water at the nickname. “You have to promise you won’t get upset”, you choke out.

She wraps her arms around your neck in a comforting embrace, and whispers in your ear, “I promise. You can tell me, only if you’re comfortable and ready.” And her considerate nature makes you want to cave and sob right then and there.

“I love you, Hazel. But, I also… I just… I’m in love with you.” You can’t even meet her eyes out of pure embarrassment. You feel her fingers snake beneath your chin, and she gently tugs until you’re looking into her eyes. She stares into yours, into your soul, really. She whispers, “y/f/n, I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say that for years.” You both giggle. You joke, “That’s such a fucking relief because I would’ve shat myself if you rejected me.” 

“I could never reject you, bean! Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “But I am curious, when did you realize you felt that way?”

You sigh, “Honestly? I knew I was sure when we went to Senior Prom together, so 6 months maybe? But I also would say, I’d felt something since we were like 10. I just hadn’t realized how deep my love was back then.”

Hazel murmurs, “You made Prom Night so magical. You looked lovely. Not to mention, you just had this magnetism to you that had everybody staring. I was fighting the urge to kiss you the entire evening. It was hardest during the slow dance.”

You admit that you had felt similarly, explaining, “It was hardest for me to resist when you had that little bit of whipped cream stuck on your lip when we went to Denny’s after. I wiped it away with a napkin, but I wish I’d just gone for it.” 

You stare up at her lovingly as a subtle silence emerges between you, your eyes scanning her features before dropping to her lips. Without saying a word, you crash your lips together. Hers taste like… well, like nothing and like everything at the same time. Just chapstick and love. 

And it’s not your first time kissing a girl by any means, But you can already tell it’s your favorite after only ten seconds. 

Hazel pulls away, breathless, “So just to be clear, what does this make you and me?” She smirks.

You hold her cheek with one hand and hook the other around the back of her neck, scratching the back of her head. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes flutter. You reply, “Horny, Hazel. It makes us really fucking horny.”

She smirks, “Maybe we should… do something about that. Your place or mine?” She dopily wiggles her eyebrows. It’s made even more ridiculous by the fact that your beds are just feet away from each other.

You shoot back, giggling, “Yours. I don’t wanna fuck up my sheets right now.”

She scoops you up bridal style and sets you down on her bed. Those months of pre-season training for rugby had made her insanely strong despite her short and lean figure.

She kisses your forehead and replies, “Whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”