#putting kids at risk for the sake of 'politics'

[furiousgoldfish]

I wasn't going to write personal posts on this topic, but this one is for all of the people who insist we are not allowed to call out narcissists for their actions, we are not allowed to call it 'narcissistic abuse', and what we're doing by saying that, is in fact, stigmatizing and marginalizing a group of people with a disorder.

I understand all of you want to be kind, and not accuse someone of being abusive, if they're presumed to be struggling with a disorder. Being accused yourself, that you're creating stigma if you do it, can feel uncomfortable and wrong. And to accuse those who are struggling the worst, of stigmatizing if they speak up about abuse, can be devastating.

Stigma, however, is not created in small, isolated communities of people who have no public voice, it's not created in the space where people go when they have nowhere else to turn to. The public does not listen to victims, they listen to the framing that makes it the easiest to ignore abuse. Which is, coincidentally, the abuser's narrative.

Hearing that narcissists are to be protected and that to say otherwise is evil, can easily take vigor if the most loud, aggressive and forceful people are yelling it, in a community of mostly scared, vulnerable individuals. So you relent and decide, it's simply kind to just defend whoever has a disorder, no matter what it is, no matter the consequences. You find it easier to not do research, to not look at reality, but pick whatever is the most convenient. If people yelling the loudest are saying 'narcissistic abuse doesn't exist! you're hurting people by saying it does!' then it's the easiest to repeat it and accept that it's right.

So now let's scale back a bit, and look at what is going on specifically in the community of abused and traumatized people on tumblr. You have a group of people who are claiming that the narcissists abused them, who can recount horrific, devastating, destructive, traumatic and severely damaging experiences of abuse by narcissistic parents or partners. People who have developed dissociative disorders, complex trauma, chronic conditions and a whole ordeal of mental disorders due to the extensive, long lasting abuse. Most of these people were children, when exposed to the narcissists. Most of these people have loved those narcissists with all of their hearts. For the most of them, it took half of their lifetime to realize abuse was going on, and that their symptoms were not imagined or without a cause. These people have been tortured, and are looking for a safe space.

You also have children here who are currently being abused, who are telling horror stories of their current reality where they're used, exploited, controlled, violated, their identity and humanity erased, who exist only as a resource to the narcissists. They're looking for a way to recognize what is happening to them, why are they feeling this awful, and how to get out.

And of course, you have people in this community who have been abused in other kinds of circumstances and by other kinds of abusers, and we're all trying to figure out what the truth is, who to blame, how to get out of abuse, how to gain freedom, how to stay safe. So it's a community of heavily traumatized individuals, most of them very vulnerable to future abuse, a lot of them children, a lot of them abused and sensitive to other kinds of grooming and abuse.

Narcissists are infiltrating this specific community and demanding to be promoted as safe and non-dangerous, to these specific people. They're not trying to appeal to general public, to psychologically healthy, to people who have resources and community to protect themselves from abuse, no, they're aiming at this specific, already-abused, already groomed, vulnerable, struggling, traumatized community of people, and threatening to smear-campaign, cancel, expel and banish anyone who doesn't accept to view them as harmless.

Why would they do this? Which safe and harmless person would put themselves in a group of traumatized and vulnerable people to bully and threaten them for the sake of 'public image' and 'erasing the stigma'? Tell me what is humane about this. Tell me what is humane about asking a victim of narcissistic abuse to be narcissist-positive on their trauma-related blog. Tell me what is normal about telling a victim of torture to say positive thing about their torturer, or to be expelled from their community as a punishment.

You are extending our torture. You are now the extension of our trauma.

And when you're out here saying 'not all narcissists', tell me how do you know which ones then? Do you know that if you're saying this to a child, they might then happily accept a narcissist in their life, who then might end up torturing the kid? You don't know which ones are dangerous, and neither do they. Are you okay with that? Can you feel peace in your heart knowing you helped this to happen? Can you look at yourself knowing you went and claimed, to a vulnerable, or already-traumatized child or a vulnerable person, to accept this potentially dangerous individual in their life, who then hurt them? Will you tell them it's their own fault and to 'stop claiming narcissists are abusive' if they confide it to you?

You're not even thinking of what will happen to those kids. I was left with narcissists alone. I was locked up in a basement. I was beaten. I was forced to play games where I would end up inevitably tortured and told it was my fault for 'losing'. I was brainwashed into believing that I'm not a human being. I was denied food if I didn't do as I was told. I was brutalized and almost murdered. I was told I would be dead if I tried to escape. I will never recover.

And I'm not even one of the worst cases. Children have been thru worse. Children are going thru it right now.

If you feel safe recommending to children and the vulnerable, to go and accept narcissists in their life, this is what you're risking. This is what some of them are capable of. You don't know which ones. Are you really going to use children and most vulnerable people in society, to test and see if the narcissists would torture them or not? You're really going to tell them to go and associate themselves with a group that has a high count of predators, just so that the predators in the groups wouldn't be upset or feel excluded? Just so you'd feel safe from being told off by them? So you wouldn't have to deal with them?

If you can put kids at risk and feel like you've done nothing wrong, then I don't care what else you have to say. You can no longer pretend not to know. You can't pretend that defending narcissists is a kind gesture. You can't pretend to be 'inclusive' when you barge into a community of victims and tell them to shut up about the abuse they worked so hard to recognize. You can't pretend you're faultless when you insist that the most vulnerable people in the population should be accepting and positive about the most dangerous group to them, so you'd have it easier, so you wouldn't have to even look at what narcissists have already done to us.

We're not your shield. We're not here to be scapegoats for your cowardice. We're not sacrificing children because it's so easy and convenient to bow down to bullies. It's been enough of this. Respect our boundaries. We don't want narcissists to have access to us.

[anotherlibrocubicularist]

'The pjo movies may be more inaccurate than the show, but they were good movies.'

is a sentiment I've seen a lot in the pjo fandom. Since the movies were my introduction to the pjo!verse, I do have a special place in my heart for them while still acknowledging their differences in regards to the originals source material (aka the books). I was foolish enough to buy the second book before the first one to read how the story continues, but had to quickly realize just how much the movie differed from the books.

And yes, I am also one of the people, who, for the longest time, held the opinion that I put in the title of this post. Which is why, once the show was announced, I had high hopes for that particular live-action remake of one of my most beloved fictional universes. These hopes have yet to be fulfilled, but I remain hesitantly hopeful for the second season.

However, with the many differences from the books that I saw in the first season of the show, I want to point out some things that, in my opinion, were ADAPTED better (as in: more accurately) in the movies.

Percy Jackson (at least in terms of his knowledge of greek mythology or rather, his lack thereof and his physical appearance aside from his age)

Percy's relationship with Grover (in the movies there are several instances where Grover fulfills his role of 'protector' and is genuinely seen as Percy's ride-or-die, much unlike the relationship I saw on the show. This is especially important for the second season where Grover forms an empathy link with his most trusted friend to communicate his whereabouts and the show just doesn't give me the vibe where they're close enough for Grover to risk forming that link.

Sally Jackson (yes, her character is mostly wish-fulfillment for neurodivergent kids who wish for their parents' unconditional love without snapping at them or mishandling parenting situations, but as a formerly neurodivergent child now adult, I loved this character so much and the 'realism' I saw with show!Sally was just dissatisfying)

Gabe Ugliano (movie!Gabe is every bit as awful as he was in the books even to the manhunt he instigated by doing an interview on tv, show!Gabe is honestly a let-down)

Sally and Gabe's relationship (no elaboration needed, I think)

Grover (movie!Grover is more accurate to how satyrs are depicted in mythology, at least when it comes to his horniness. And yes, that's not more accurate to the books but if people can go around and praise show!Hades for being closer to real mythology!Hades then I can do the same with Grover. Also how the movies disguised his hooves with giving him crutches was far superior)

Hades (yes, the movie portrayal was not close to the books, but his angerand frustration was depicted really well; the show has him act way too chill and that just has me worried for continuity's sake)

The lotus casino scene (and basically every moment where they had to figure out the threat before defeating it, also the movie scene was entertaining as hell)

The deadline plotline (them missing it was stupid, nough said)

Poseidon (he and Percy had a difficult relationship at the beginning, book!Poseidon would probably not have bowed to Zeus to protect Percy like he did in the show when he forfeited)

The Gods in the throne room on Olympus (in the final scene of the movies they were all tall and ready for battle, makes sense since they readied themselves for a war that was literally about to start. What did we get in the show? They looked way too casual and ordinary for being about to start a world threatening war.)

Feel free to add when you think I've missed things or comment whatever so long as it's constructive and polite.

[homucifer-ryotan]

At this point saying and hashtagging #Stop Kosa isn't enough. We should doing a #Stop Chuck Schumer tag.

And by stopping him, I mean calling him as much as Mike Johnson, Hakeem Jeffries, and Steve Scalise, and politely and patiently convincing him on why Kill Online Speech Act will not be good for anyone, let alone American kids.

Schumer has been pushing for KOSA way too much (even more than Marsha Blackburn and Richard Blumenthal lately, and they were the ones who created that cursed bad internet bill in the first place) and he is mostly likely the reason KOSA is back from the dead after being gone for just about a month.

He has using Kill Online Speech Act's title of "Kids Safety" and misguided American parents to push the bill to become legal (even though there are American parents that do not want KOSA). We need not only more Americans, especially American parents to call him and convince why making KOSA a law would not only be bad for kids (and everyone else in the world) but will also make America look bad.

TLTR: Chuck Schumer looks like KOSA biggest supporter and is most likely the reason why Kill Online Speech Act got brought back from the dead even though the bill is an invasion of privacy and violates the first amendment. The more American parents call him on all the reasons why is a bad internet bill, the more likely we can KOSA can be dead for good.

Please parents and everyone else, use the google doc and other links before and keep calling Mike Johnson, Hakeem Jeffries, Steve Scalise, and Chuck Schumer calmly and politely. For the sake of having free and safe internet for everyone regardless of age.

[justplainwhump]

Re-Ac

The aftermath of Bea's capture.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]

Content / warning: BBU setting, double agent caretaker, (short) recapture, very vaguely implied noncon, nightmares, guilt issues, hint at body dysphoria.

"Why did you tell her to do that?" Adrian pulled down the scarf covering his face and swiveled to face Marta. "Why? They'll hurt her. They'll - shit, Marta, you know what they'll do. Do you really think they'll give her back? They're fucking Re-ac, if the bounty on a runaway isn't high enough they'll just -"

"It's on you," Marta cut him off icily. "Why did you do that? Why did you even talk to the kid? Why did you need to go and care for him for fuck's sake? What if someone saw you? What if Bea hadn't been there?" She raised a finger to his chest and pushed him back. "You risked everything we have. You jeopardized your cover, our connection, our entire fucking operation."

"That's not -"

"I like Bea, Adrian. I do. I don't want to lose her. But if it's her or you, if it's one escaped pet or an asset deep in WRU management, making that call is ridiculously easy. And it's a call you should've made in the first place. Not between her and you, but that pet and you."

Adrian shook his head. "What the fuck? What kind of a person are you, Marta? You're in this to save pets. Bea is-"

"A hero. She is. And I will pray for her safe return. But she did the sane thing, Adri. She saved you. Your cover. You're not just one random pet lib guy any longer. Not just my baby brother. You're more. You're hope for dozens, you're hope to topple this fucking system. You're a spy, Adri." She pulled his phone from his back pocket and shoved it against his chest. "Fucking act like one. Call it in."

"What?"

"Your pet ran away, remember? You gotta be looking for her. Be convincing, and she might stand a chance."

---

When he finally fell asleep that night, Adrian dreamt of Eric. 

He tried to reach him, tell him he was sorry, tell him he missed him, but his voice was gone. Eric cocked his head, in the way all WRU pets did, polite and inviting, and not understanding anything at all.

When Adrian tried to reach out, his hand ran through thin air, Eric dissolving right under his grasp. "You're late," Eric's voice lingered, softly shifting into another. "You're late, Adrian Delgado."

He woke up covered in sweat, entangled in Bea's bedsheets.

It was 4:30.

He got up anyway, splashed cold water on his face and took the bike to work through the still hot night air. 

There was no report of her at the office.

Not when he arrived, not when he refreshed his mail, not after the next ten refreshes, not five minutes later.

He started to work eventually, a restless tremble to his hands. Sorting through reports, pictures, descriptions. 

He skipped lunch. It didn't stop his boss from standing in his door without knocking. "Hear you're having trouble with your bonus pet?"

"She ran." Adrian covered his face with a hand. "'Having trouble' is one way to put it. She's been perfect before."

"I offered you an upper on her conditioning."

"You offered me an upper on her bedroom specifics, Kelly." He sighed. "I can assure you, that wasn't the issue."

"Huh. Well. You look like shit."

"Well, I spent half the night looking for her. It's not like she was cheap."

She looked him down with a frown, before she pursed her lips and nodded. "Yeah. I'll place a call to Re-Ac. See if they can priorize the search."

Search. He had to keep himself from laughing out at the term. He'd seen the re-ac van speed off, with Bea in it. There was no search going on anywhere. The only thing going on was - no. No. He wouldn't let his mind wander down that path. 

Instead, he forced a pained smile on his lips and nodded to her.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

---

The call came in the late evening. Adrian hadn't left the office building, kept himself busy with all sorts of case documentation and paperwork, until the letters and words on the screen had started dancing in front of his eyes. 

"PSI Delgado? You're lucky. Your pet was picked up by a re-ac team." The voice was cheerful.

Adrian didn't think there was any reason to be. Should he feel relieved? Probably. Re-Ac's reputation wasn't for nothing. They were brutal. Not every pet they picked up made it into their records. And not every pet that made it into the records came back the same. 

Twenty-six hours since he'd seen the van speed off. A lot could happen in twenty-six hours.

"PSI Delgado? Are you still there?"

"Yes," he hurried to say. "Yes, I'm here. Where… where is she? Where can I get her?"

—

He couldn't even remember the drive to the WRU facility some miles into the outskirts of town, far from the pretty, polished office building where he and most of administration were based. The facility was plain, hostile and maze-like, with low ceilings and white tiles. And even in the night heat still radiating from the desert around them, it was freezing inside. 

Bea wasn't wearing anything more than a plain white tee and black shorts anyway. There was a white bandage fixed over her eye, instead of the black eyepatch she'd had before. She was kneeling on the white tiles of a training room, hands open on her knees, back straight, gaze forward. Perfect position two, if not for the tiny shiver of her shoulders in the cold. Then again, it wasn't like WRU didn't want them to shiver.

Adrian caught himself, before he could rest his hands on the control room's mirrored glass in front of him. She couldn't even see him. 

"What did you do to her?"

The handler sprawled on the desk in the room pushed a button, and the glass turned opaque. "I gotta ask you some questions, before I can let her go. Make sure her attitude doesn't become a liability for the company."

Liability. Marta's voice echoed in his head. You can't let her become a liability, Adri.

He felt his fingernails dig into his palms in his pockets, and carefully unclenched his fists. Fuck. If anyone here was becoming a liability, he wagered, it was himself.

He decided to ignore the handler's words, just as the other man had Adrian's question. Still, he turned around to face him. 

"Where are her clothes?" Adrian's voice came out pressed. He didn't care.

"Burned." The handler shrugged. "She was picked up in man's clothes, must've gotten them on the streets somewhere."

"She didn't," Adrian replied flatly.

"She didn't?" The handler paused and flipped the tablet in his hands for Adrian to see. A photo. Bea, in front of a white wall, a huge bruise on the side of her face, her eyepatch loose, yet her gaze boring straight into the camera. 

Proud, Adrian thought, biting back sudden bile rising in his throat. Bea looked proud. 

"That?" The handler asked, gesturing at the photo her baggy work pants, the oversized band shirt. The clothes barely covered the fresh bruises blooming on her skin. 

Adrian shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling his fingers curl into fists again.

The handler tossed a plastic bag on the table, a ripped black piece of garment in it. 

"She was wearing a fucking binder underneath." He huffed. "You want to tell me that's the clothes you yourself put your Romantic in? Wow, Delgado, you've really got some issues, don't you?"

"Careful," Adrian said sharply. "Don't forget that I outrank you, handler. What I do with my Romantic is none of your business."

"Unless your property runs away and behaves like a little bitch." He smirked. "Then it is my business, and I must say, PSI Delgado, your little whore has no respect in her at all. How long has she been gone? She must've been in bad company."

"She's been gone for less than a day, actually." Adrian lifted his chin. There was no choice but to counter the implications head-on. "Her attitude is not on me though. It's all in her files. She's had trouble adjusting. Refurb messed with her conditioning."

"Interesting, though," the handler murmured, looking up at Adrian with a condescending smirk. "Given that you certainly both have the training and the tools at hand to work with pets that have an attitude."

"I'll work with her." Adrian's jaw clenched. "Now. I don't have all day. Can I take her?"

"I recommend handing her in for retraining." The man folded his arms and leaned back. "Next time we pick her up on the streets, we'll have to book her for obedience training anyway, you know that. Company policy."

"She won't run again."

"Not anytime soon, indeed," the handler confirmed smugly. "Her ankle is broken."

"You broke her ankle?" Adrian's gaze flew back to the opaque window.

"Not personally."

"Fuck you."

"Careful yourself, Delgado. You seem to forget what she is." He paused, eyes squinted. "Or do you forget, what you are?"

Adrian's teeth clenched. Internally, he started counting his breaths. "Sorry," he said at four, giving a disgruntled smile. "It's been a stressful time. It's different, being an owner instead of a handler. I hadn't expected her to run."

"Huh."

"Thank you." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. "For getting her back."

"For disciplining her?"

Adrian knew the tone. The question. The intent behind it. The man was a handler. Getting people to thank him for horrendous things was his profession. 

Adrian was losing this battle, big time. He had to let it happen. There was more at stake than his integrity.

"Yeah." Adrian's hands curled into fists, fingernails digging deep into his palms. "Thank you for that, too, Handler." He smiled, sharp as a knife's edge. "But I dare you to speak to me like to a trainee again. Keep that for your actual job. After all, might always be your name is drawn for a safety inspection. And PS is thorough."

"Yeah." He mirrored Adrian's tone, cold and cautious. "Of course."

"Now. Do I get my property back?"

"Of course, PSI Delgado." The handler got up and gestured towards the door. "Be my guest."

Adrian kept his steps measured as he walked out toward the training cell, knowing the handler was right behind him. 

He lifted his keycard to the reader, waiting for the little beep to acknowledge it worked. It should. PS was supposed to have access to all low and medium security areas in any facility. 

The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Bea pressed her forehead against the floor. Respect position. "Master," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. Why, he wondered, and then banned the thought. They'd deal with everything, once they were back home. 

From up close, he could see the fresh bruises taking shape on her tanned skin. There was an elastic bandage around her ankle. It looked professionally taken care of, at least.

He didn't think he could handle talking to her. He addressed the other man, instead. "What do you think I'm going to do with a lame pet, Handler? Get her a crutch or two. I'm certainly not going to carry her."

He wanted to. Close his arms around her, lift her up, kiss her, carry her out of this place, to safety, to the end of the world.

But he wouldn't.

She'd just risked her life - her entire existence - to keep his cover. He'd had the much easier part in this. And yet he'd jeopardized it a dozen times in this conversation alone. 

He'd treat her like trash. He owed it to her. What a cruel fucking mess.

"Forgive me, Master."

"Shut up," he said roughly. "We'll deal with your misbehavior at home. Make sure this never happens again. And get up."

A crutch was tossed to the ground next to her, and with its help, Bea struggled to get to her feet. Her usual elegance was tainted with pain and exhaustion.

The handler clicked his tongue in disapproval, thumb hovering over the little controller in his hand.

"Give me that," Adrian said. "I'll take it."

"I thought PS said, shock collars on pets are illegal outside of WRU facilities."

"We do make exceptions." Adrian turned to him and reached out. The handler dropped the controller into his palm, and Adrian smiled. "In important cases."

By his side, he heard the crutch clatter to the ground, a muffled yelp from Bea. "Sir." She was on the ground again in respect position, shivering violently. Adrian stared at the controller. Had he accidentally-? No, it couldn't-

"Well, well." A deep voice mused behind him, cowboy boots clicking on the tiles. "I guess I wasn't important enough for Inspector Delgado then."

"Mr Donnell," the handler said, his face suddenly pale. "I'm sorry, haven't you been notified? That alarm we've send you must've been based on deprecated data. It wasn't one of your current ones. We-"

"It's alright," Jack Donnell said with a wide smile that didn't even try to reach his eyes. "I believe fate has brought me to the right place anyway."

----

-

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[lovelykil]

「 Car ride 」

cw; slight nsfw

also stan x reader no way.

"KAHL PULL OVER I HAVE TO PISS–"

"CARTMAN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME I ASKED IF EVERYONE NEEDEED TO PEE LIKE 5 MINUTES AGO."

"Do you want me to PISS in your car, Jew?!"

"Oh for fuck sakes."

Everyone in the car groaned from Cartman's blatter problem knowing they would have to stop again instead of continuing on the road to the hotel.

"Maybe if you didn't drink so much mountain dew you wouldn't have to pee so much." I argued, reaching over the passenger seat to hit his head.

"Oh shut up Y/n why aren't you and Stan hitting it off already, we've been in here for 4 hours and I haven't seen any action!" Eric teased, with his horrible grin. I looked over at Stan who looked back at me.

We both then looked at Eric "Fuck off CARTMAN" in unison we yelled, our faces heating up. Though I didn't really mind if we shared a kiss or something.. I always had a thing for Stan but I kept quiet to keep our friendship safe.

Though I guess Cartman found out now he just teases the fuck out of me about it.

I really fucking hate that asshole.

"Leave them alone Eric you always do this, anyway I see a gas station.. can someone check on Kenny he hasn't spoken in an hour." Kyle started to switch lanes to get to the gas station. Stan sighed from all this, going to check Kenny.

"Yeah sure, andd.."

I went to check our friend as well, I leaned over the seat next to Stan to see Kenny laid out in the trunk he was knocked out dead..

Asleep of course.

"Oh no Kenny died."

"Dude."

"KENNY WHAT?" Kyle almost swerved into another car in a panic from hearing his friend died in his own car.

I smacked Stan in the arm, giving him a look. He only laughed sitting back down "I'm just kidding he's asleep, jeez."

"God Stan you almost made us die!"

"Good one Stan." Cartman snickered watching Kyle loose his shit.

Kyle gained back his focus growing closer to the station.

Soon enough after that slight chaotic moment we arrived at Circle K, Eric practically ran out of the car and into the gas station, Kyle followed along sighing in the process. He looked like an over worked mother with her 4 kids in a car.

Me and Stan also got out to fetch some snacks for the rest of the ride, as we walked I nudged Stan in the arm.

"Dude that was not funny." I muttered to him, almost letting myself laugh. He looked at me, raising his brow.

"Yes it was, and if it isn't funny why are you grinning?" He nudged me back in the arm. I rolled my eyes "Kyle almost crashed into a car!"

"Yet here we are walking inside to get our snacks, living, and breathing." Stan held open the door for me, politely. I stuck up my middle finger at him playfully as I walked in.

"A thank you would be nice.."

"Thanks for holding the door.. and getting us almost killed."

"We didn't die!"

────────

"You know remind me to save up some more money so I can buy some shit from your dad.."

"No."

"Cmon please-"

"No, this convo is done." Stan opened the car door as I whined, going inside he soon got in after me and closed the door. We both got settled down and grew quiet.

The silence was awkward now for some reason it felt like there was tension in the air, I began to grow nervous.

I was alone with him.. what do I even do now?

"Sooo.. Stann.. ah- erm." He looked at me giving me a weird look I grew small suddenly wanting to die inside.

"Nevermind.." I muttered, opening my drink. Stan looked away to look out the window.

"Hey you know remember what Cartman said earlier.."

"Huh?"

I put my drink down, eyes darting toward him, he looked down at his fingers that were filled with band aids from cuts he got opening beer glass bottles. He fell silent which made my eyes wander in awkwardness.

"Wha-"

"I really like you, you know? But I never said anything since I didn't wanna risk our friendship." He let out, picking up his head to stare at me. I sat in disbelief it felt like my head would've exploded with this information I got.

It had seemed that this day finally came the day I was waiting for.. the day I dreamt of.. though on such a random occasion?

"Wow I wasn't expecting that." I chuckled slightly, still in denial. Stan rubbed his neck "Sorry that was random but I almost let myself slip right infront of Eric, confessing. I mean I wouldn't mind hitting it off here.. would you?"

"In Kyle's car? Now that's crazy.." I laughed, he shrugged with a grin. When my giggles came to an end I scotted closer to the alcoholic manic "Though I wouldn't mindd.. I've always had the biggest crush on you. So you don't have to worry about the whole friend thing. I like you too Stan." I picked up his hand, wrapping it with mine.

He stared at our hands then at me, surprised. "Really?!"

"Really."

The teen smiled widely, holding tight to my hand we stared deeply into each other's eyes letting our mouths take the lead soon. Our lips connected shortly after the hypnotic gaze my fingers wandered to his neck then cheek as his went to rest on my thigh.

The kiss sought to get intense when I leaned my way down on the seats, pulling Stan's shirt with me. He was caught off guard making him pull away with a smirk.

"Oh you are impatient aren't you, y/n?" He cooed, hovering ontop of me. I gripped his shirt pulling him down some more "Just shut up and kiss me more, I've been waiting for this you don't understand." I breathed out.

Stan's face grew a tint pink spending no time placing his lips on mine back again, we were now again going back and forth, the kiss getting heated by the minute. Stan's leg inched towards my temple his left hand felt around under my shirt causing me to let out small pleasure noises.

My fingers traced over his shirt as our tongues intertwined. The heat of the moment caused my face to flush as I felt his leg hit my core. A low moan escaped my lips, I lost myself in the kiss, my body responding eagerly to his touch

"You liked that didn't you?" Stan pulled away once again, looking down at my flushed face. His sly cocky smile sent butterflies that went to my stomach and even further.

"Yeah I did actually.."

Stan went down to kiss my cheek then moved over to my neck "Good to know."

"Stan what are you- oh.. shit." Stan's knee hit my core once again this time it was right on the dot making me squirm.

He began to suck on my exposed skin, moving his knee in a circle motion slowly and steady getting me to whimper in his ear.

"Oh fuck Stan.. agh.."

"Ohh fuck stann! fuck me soo hard." A voiced mocked from above, me and Stan came to a quick stop.

"What the-"

"Yall I'm still here you know." Kenny popped his head from the trunk smirking down at us.

"We thought you were asleep?!"

"I was, till you guys woke me up.. but by any means continue.. I have a solid rock-hard boner right now." Kenny snarled, me and Stan both shared a disturbed expression.

"Dude sick.."

"Kenny go fuck yours-"

"ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING IN MY CAR?!!!" Kyle swung open the door, shouting in horror. We heard Eric laughing his ass off watching from the other side of the car as Kyle looked like he was going to kill us.

"Jesus christ where are you guys coming from?!" Stan crawled off of me quickly, his face in a mess as well was mine when I sat up straight.

"I'm GONE for like 5 MINUTES and someone is already hooking up in my car!"

"Awh you made them stop, I was about to jack it off."

"KENNY? WHAT. Oh my gosh I'm going to have aneurysm."

"This is the best trip evveaa!"

"SHUT UP CARTMAN."

[concerningwolves]

vampire body horror book?? 👀 pls tell me more abt blood enigma. whats the plot (as much as u can say without spoilers haha) whos there what are they doin

Hello yes I will HAPPILY tell you more about TBE because it's running in my mental background nonstop rn :D

Here is the Nice and Polished blurb:

Remy Ekhart is a bitterblood: once human, now transformed into something neither dead nor alive and reliant on vampire blood to continue his existence. His status as a dead man walking was further cemented seventy years ago when he faked his own death and made himself a martyr for the sake of his loved ones and his own sanity.

It's a status he should keep, but urged by his sister Thea's pleas and a guilty conscience, Remy agrees to be the getaway driver in a rescue mission. It was never supposed to be a high-risk job, but he suddenly finds himself on the run and in sole charge of Elodie, a child of mysterious origins and even more mysterious abilities. Their one ally is the enigmatic Darren Bell, whose strange faerie magic and dimpled smiles are threatening to break down every barrier Remy has put up to shield himself. With the merciless beast of supernatural politics nipping at their heels, Remy soon realises he is Elodie's one hope at safety – but without access to more vampire blood to sustain him, his time is fast running out.

And here are some bullet points based on the stuff i cut and now intend to build back in with the next lot of revisions:

there are vampires (and other magical creatures, but the vampires are key to this book). they are a distinct species, possibly older than homo sapiens. or maybe they were homo sapiens, once.

there is Something that lives inside them and is the source of their power, their longevity – and their need for blood. many vampires call it the Hunger.

the Hunger is the antithesis of magic. it has no concept of balance, creation or conservation, and cannot be shaped by outside influence. (insofar as it can have a concept of anything. People have been debating the exact nature of the Hunger for a very long time).

Vampires can use the Hunger to create bitterbloods. Bitterbloods are considered pale imitations or mockeries by many vampires, but for a long time they were also crucial tools because they're not bound by the same limitations as vampires (e.g., no weakness to sunlight, able to enter places uninvited).

There are fae in this book, too. they are also very important. Many vampires harbour a deep grudge against the faeriekind, born from envy: the fae are ungovernable by mortal law because they can just vanish into the Otherworld, whereas vampires have no choice but to co-exist with humans in this world.

So, there's a lot going on in terms of political intrigue and various factions vying for power, while other factions do their best to help maintain a cohesive society.

But intrigue doesn't actually do much for the most vulnerable, which is something that Remy has spent a good chunk of his (un)life being very loud about while trying to improve things for bitterbloods.

Plot-wise it's heavily inspired by The Last of Us, which I think shaped a lot of Remy and Elodie's relationship and the core premise: Remy, legally dead & determined not to get attached, winds up travelling across country as a fugitive to try and help Elodie find safety. The two of them are joined by Darren (ostensibly a fae, but It's Complicated), Thea (youngest member of the vampire family Remy is tied to), Cyril (human who made a bad deal with a fae when he was a kid and gained pyrogenesis as a result), and Conan (Cyril's seeing-eye grim). The political intrigue is there, but it's there as an intrusion into a story about people who are trying to find an existence where they're no longer weapons, pawns or tools. It is also a romance, in that Remy finds Darren totally sexy and then also falls in love with him.

And there is, of course, Body Horror. Largely in terms of "person with inhuman healing capacity but human nervous system + experiences pain like a human", but I hope soon to rewrite some scenes to push the vampire-specific body horror further :3 i just need to finish the current draft of The Kindness of Ravens first

[hello-nichya-here]

Would only having daughters made Viserys and Alicent's marriage better since there'd be no conflict with Rhaenyra?

No, because their marriage's biggest problem was not the inevitable power struggle between the blacks and greens, or even their age gap, or that for most of their relationship the dude was a walking rotting corpse (though obviously none of that helped), but the fact that Viserys was objectively a terrible husband (and father and king).

When they are sort of courting each other, it is all about how Alicent makes dealing with his grief easier since she's always keeping him company, giving him emotional support, engaging with his interests, trying to bridge the gap between him and Rhaenyra, etc.

Meanwhile we don't get a single scene of Viserys trying to do something Alicent would like to do, and, more importantly, we never see him offering her any sympathy over her mom's death, even though the first thing Alicent ever said to him was how sorry she was for his loss, and how she knew how horrible it was to constantly be given advice but not genuine comfort.

Alicent spent years being basically Viserys's nurse as his health got worse and worse - to the point that even Rhaenyra recognized all the devotion her father was shown by her. Yet on the hunt to celebrate Aegon's second name day, Viserys has that same wife travel while heavily pregnant, which was obviously incredibly uncomfortable for her, and could have even offered potential risks for her and their baby.

When Alicent manages to patch things up with Rhaenyra for the first time, aka the thing Viserys wanted the most, and then goes with her to try and be all polite and gracious towards her husband's beloved brother, how does he repay her? By immediately humiliating her in front of said brother, because he's just that much of a dick.

Alicent's life revolves around being a good wife to the husband she doesn't even love, and to the kids that she clearly struggles to properly raise without help. Viserys repays that devotion by calling her by his first wife's name and saying Rhaenyra is his ONLY child. The one "duty" he happily complies to, is having sex with Alicent - even when she's clearly not enjoying herself and only saying yes to it because she has no other choice.

And like I said, while the power struggle between Rhaenyra and Aegon is not what made their marriage horrible, it also didn't help - and Viserys is to blame for that, because he went from a king with no heirs, to one with too many, as he named his daughter heir yet STILL got himself a second wife to give him a male heir, which would naturally create conflict even if the kids got along.

Alicent did her duty. She gave this man she did not love and was not attracted to three children, two of which were sons like he so desperately wanted. She gave a male heir to the king, like everyone, including him, wanted her to. Yet she's still a queen that would NEVER see her eldest child become ruler if her husband had his way. Even as someone who is very firmly Team Black, I say that is unbelievably unfair.

For fuck's sake, look at what Viserys did with Aemma, the woman he actually loved: he forced her to get pregnant over and over again even though she was constantly in physical and emotional anguish because of all the stillbirths and miscarriages, and then had her be murdered to get a baby out.

THIS is the guy Alicent is married to. Someone who ALWAYS puts his own needs and desires first, without so much as a second thought to anyone else, even those he feels genuine affection for.

They were NEVER going to be happy, or even just be a functional pair that is together out of duty/convenience instead of love, because Viserys is a weak, cowardly man that uses his own vulnerability as sword and shield to be unfair to others. Viserys is honestly just as bad as Daemon at having healthy relationships, if not worse.

[horizon-verizon]

Sara Hess being a neoliberal is the LEAST surprising thing to ever happen. I know I had reasons to hate Rhaenys.

Seriously though, I want to vomit, of all the women to channel, they picked Hillary Clinton ??? And not any of the competent and effective female rulers documented in history ?

But unlike Rhaenys, Clinton is a huge fan of massacring people though, doesn’t track. But both have unfaithful husbands who have sex with underage girls, I can see why they would choose her as an inspiration.

And we know that Sara Hess is a rape apologist, I’m sure she doesn’t believe the women who accused Bill Clinton of rape and sexual abuse. Why did Hillary stay married to a serial adulterer (who use women as disposable Kleenex) and serial rapist and pedophile, if she such a women right activist, can one of her cultists who love to blame women for the actions of men explain that one.

I mean...that Rhaenys is above killing many people and goes out of her way to try to not do that is severely undermined by her coming through the floor in her Dragonpit escape back in s1 e9.

To be Watsonian, other than that, Rhaenys never actually speaks about or seems to concern herself with making sure a woman gets some form of autonomy or political authority. She's mostly been sometimes wanting to assure that her side of the family stays relatively safe and reserving power for them (which a war b/t other family members would put at risk & destabilize, obviously)...not actually avoiding violence for the sake of the "realm". Would be somewhat fine to witness, but it's passed off as "wisdom" and compassion when it's anything but, while also causing a lot of cognitive dissonance in viewers AND this "wisdom" of "guiding" men of "violent masculine nature" doesn't serve to really grant woman as much agency or political authority as Condal or Hess believe.

It still validates male violence by making it seem inevitable AND centers men as the active political leaders and movers while demonizing women who make decisions for their selves and discourage inquiry over whether or not that itself actually brings about terrible destruction to people...or just provide a means to possibly start a change in the system. Or you know, avoid patriarchal violence and have defenses against it in general.

You are still, as a woman, subject to the caprices of men, the winds of male violence bc it keeps you immobile against such things. It's simply why I just can never like Rhaenyra and how I despise this narrative that she's somehow "better" than Catelyn regarding the responses to bastard kids of their unfaithful husbands (that Ned wasn't actually is irrelevant, he made Cat believe so and she did to her dying day).

[foggyfanfic]

Mirabel's Super Secret Adventure

Chapter Preview: Mirabel hesitated just a little longer, but the doorknob was still there, still solid in her hand, so she took another deep breath, then risked cracking her eyes open.

The door was still there.

Prologue Prev Masterlist

15. The Miracle

It took just over a month to rebuild Casita, or rather, a house that looked just like Casita. Walking through the finished courtyard, it seemed just a little wrong to Mirabel. The tiles were too still, the walls too silent, the shutters too utilitarian.

The house wasn’t alive.

Mirabel sighed, and when she looked away from a light fixture she half expected to start dancing, she saw Abuela on the second story, her hand tracing the railing with a mournful look in her eye.

Abuela had raised three kids with Casita, and nine grandchildren. How must it feel to lose that connection?

When Abuela eventually made it down the stairs, Mirabel linked their arms and gave her a warm smile, “It’s almost time for the celebration.”

“Ay, sí, so it is,” Abuela nodded, allowing herself to be led out of the house. Her smile was tired, and Mirabel suspected it was more for her sake than anything else.

They took up their posts in the front yard, where some people were already milling about. Abuela greeted a few, making polite conversation and asking after various sick parents or newly born nephews. Mirabel quietly made note of everything the villagers said that might be important later.

Eventually, the entire family gathered in the yard around them and they turned once more to assess their home.

Abuela sighed, emotion brimming under her words as she said, “Well, it isn’t perfect.”

“Neither are we,” Mirabel squeezed her Abuela’s arm with a sympathetic smile.

Abuela patted her hand, “That’s true.”

They looked over their house for another two beats, then Mirabel drew in a breath to ask if Abuela was ready to start the party they’d planned to thank the villagers.

But Abuela cut her off, “There’s just one more thing, before we celebrate.”

“What’s that?”

“We need a doorknob,” Tío Bruno suddenly appeared, leading Amada, Octavia, and Antonio.

Antonio stepped forward, holding a wooden box up, “We made this one for you.”

Octavia reached over his shoulder and opened the box, sitting inside was a shining doorknob. Mirabel lifted her hand to grab it, then hesitated, only to feel a slight nudge from behind. Amada had walked behind her and was gently pushing Mirabel towards her doorknob.

Mirabel picked it up, and stared at her somewhat warped reflection. The face that stared back at her shined with happiness, even as her smile wobbled.

Amada gave her another nudge, and Antonio wrapped himself around her arm, while Octavia slung her other arm over her shoulder. The two of them walked her up to her door, then released her for Amada to give her one final nudge.

Mirabel hesitated one more second, but when she looked back over her shoulder her entire family was standing there, smiling at her with love and pride. She turned as a tear slipped out from behind her glasses, took a deep breath, and put the doorknob in the door.

For a split second, it felt like her love was almost physical, like it was a bolt of lightning shooting through her. Then that lightning traveled from her heart, down her arm, and into the doorknob. Mirabel stumbled back.

The doorknob exploded with golden light, similar in color to the butterflies she’d seen. The light traveled up and outward, canvassing the house. It seemed to make the paint brighter wherever it went, and left a glowing mural of their entire family on the front door.

Mirabel slowly stepped back, watching the magic spread. She couldn’t help but hold her breath, even though it almost felt dangerous to hope that…

The magic finished spreading and a shutter waved at her in friendly greeting. Mirabel took a shuddering breath, almost laughing from relief, “Hola Casita.”

With that the hush that had fallen over the crowd was broken and people began cheering. Tío Bruno crowed “I was right!” and a few people laughed. Octavia extended her hands out and filled the front yard with scale models of Casita in an instant. Meanwhile Casita seemed to dance, clattering the roof tiles, drumming the shudders, and moving the floor like a wave. The second Mirabel stepped within Casita’s range she was swept into the house.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder, “get in here!”

Her family followed after her, either through Casita shoving them in, or by jogging inside before the house got the chance to move them. All around her, her family tested their gifts and seemed to rejoice at their return, even Tía Pepa who started to dance in a hail storm of her own making.

She heard her father shout “I love it!”

When Mirabel searched the crowd, she found him standing in front of Isabela, who had used her gift to summon up different pigments to coat her dress in deep blue and brightly colored splatters.

Just beyond her, Antonio rode Parce around the courtyard, cheering and giggling. Mirabel turned to watch him pass and caught sight of Luisa being bundled into a hammock by some donkeys. Señora Martinez approached her, doubtlessly to ask her for a laundry list of favors now that the gifts were back, but a wall of light formed around Luisa. Señora Martinez stopped in her tracks and turned to glare at Gabriel, but he folded his arms and held firm. Next to him Camilo was snickering behind his hand.

Amada walked up to them, eyes glowing gold, and flicked Camilo in the ear. He jumped, bumping into Gabriel, and the wall of light flickered just in time for a donkey to step up to Luisa with a drink on a tray.

Faintly, Mirabel heard Camilo say, “You could have just said something.”

“I could have,” Amada agreed, then kept walking. She stopped at Tío Bruno’s side, drawing his attention away from watching Pepa and Félix dance. He smiled gently at her and tucked her under his arm.

Past them, Mirabel saw Dolores and Mariano holding hands while Dolores listened to something Mirabel couldn’t hear, a big smile on her face. Then Dolores’ face briefly fell and she turned her head, looking at something or someone with a concerned pout. 

Mirabel followed her gaze and saw Abuela, standing by the wall with her fingers just barely grazing it, her shoulders were shaking.

Slowly, Mirabel approached her, she opened her mouth to ask if Abuela was alright but stopped short when she heard what Abuela was whispering to the walls, “-you have been my closest friend for most of my life, a-and because of my own foolishness, I almost lost you. I am so sorry, Casita, I-I love you just as dearly as the rest of my familia, I never wanted to hurt you.”

The tiles under their feet shimmied and shivered, and clear as day, Mirabel could hear Casita saying, “You could never lose me, I love you too.”

Abuela chuckled, although it sounded more like a sob, and Mirabel stepped forward, quietly clearing her throat. She hugged Abuela, muttering, “Casita’s alright. Everybody’s alright.”

They hugged for a second, then separated when somebody called for a picture. Quickly, Abuela wiped her eyes and allowed Casita to bundle her over to the center of the courtyard. Soon, the whole family was smushed in around them, standing entangled and grinning in front of the camera as one of Tío Bruno’s rats held up the flash.

Mirabel felt the eager tremble in the tiles and realized what was about to happen half an instant before it did. Just as the camera flashed, Casita seized up around them in a quasi hug, forcing the Madrigals even closer together. 

As Casita settled, they all landed in a heap on the ground, and Tío Félix broke out laughing. Abuela sighed, shaking her head, even as she gazed at the house around them with a warm smile. Predictably, Mirabel’s Má asked if everybody was alright, then rushed off to make an arepa when she realized Luisa had landed on Octavia.

When they were all on their feet again, arepa eaten and bruises healed, they tried again. This time they got the picture taken, although Abuela and Tía Pepa were discussing where they would put up the first picture once it was developed and framed.

“Wait, does this mean I get my room back?” Camilo suddenly asked, then turned into one of the taller men from the village so he could take the stairs three at a time. He ran up to the door that had been his and as soon as his hand made contact with the doorknob, the door flashed and a familiar image appeared.

Camilo whooped and wasted no time running into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“There went family togetherness,” Tío Félix sighed.

Pepa laughed quietly, “Ay, you know how private he can be, I’m honestly proud that he’s managed not to bite anyone’s head off this past month.”

“Fair point,” Félix said, then startled when Camilo’s door burst back open.

“All my stuff’s still there,” Camilo said, snapping his fingers and practically hopping up and down in his excitement.

That caused a bit of a stampede as everybody ran to their doors, eager to reclaim what had been lost when Casita fell apart. Mirabel stood in the center of the courtyard, slowly spinning in a circle as she watched her entire familia reconnect with their rooms. 

She could feel it, every time one of them touched their doorknob, she could feel that little spark of love embracing them. She pressed her hand to her chest as Antonio threw open his door and cheered to find the rainforest still there.

Eventually, the only other people left on the ground floor were Abuela and Tía Leandra. Abuela was frowning, one hand pressed to her chest, and her brow wrinkled as if she was confused. Tía Leandra was looking between Mirabel and Abuela, one eyebrow raised.

“You guys both did the same exact thing, at the same exact time,” she informed them, “down to the confused nose scrunch thing you both do.”

Reflexively Mirabel touched her nose, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Abuela do the same. They exchanged sheepish looks.

“The miracle, our magic,” Abuela paused and pursed her lips, clearly considering her words carefully, “it feels different.”

“Um,” Mirabel gulped, not sure how to say this, “am I supposed to be able to feel it too?”

Abuela stared at her, then smiled quietly, “Ah, that makes sense then. Come Mirabel, there are two doors left.”

“It does?”

“Sí,” Abuela nodded once, holding out her elbow for Mirabel to take.

“It does,” Tía Leandra agreed, leading the way up the stairs, she exchanged a look with Abuela, then told Mirabel, “you can hold the whole world in your heart, where else would the miracle store itself?”

Mirabel processed this, then frowned, “Wait, you don’t think I’m the new candle, do you?”

They both chuckled, and Abuela opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when Amada burst out of her room and ran into Gabriel’s. By the time they reached the first of the two remaining doors, Amada was dragging Gabriel out by his arm.

“What?!” he was squawking, halfway through buttoning up the shirt he’d apparently decided to change into, “What is it?!”

“Just watch,” Amada said, depositing him in front of Mirabel and rushing into Octavia’s room next.

When Octavia got pushed out of her room she huffed at Amada’s back, “Use your words! We just had this whole thingy about communicating!”

“Just trust me,” Amada called, barging into Isabela’s room next.

Gabriel finished buttoning up his shirt and went to Camilo’s door, he knocked on it, then when Camilo answered, said, “Amada’s on a rampage, come stand with us or risk being dragged out by force.”

“Uh, alright,” Camilo said, but popped back into the room to grab a ruana that hadn’t been worn through a month of manual labor.

Meanwhile, Gabriel went to Dolores’ door and delivered her the same warning, while Octavia knocked on Tía Pepa’s door. In that time Amada had fetched Isabela, Luisa, and was trying to get Tío Bruno to walk faster.

“Mija, this is as fast as I go,” Bruno was saying, frowning at Amada.

“No it is not,” she snapped back, “you run for fun!”

“Right, for fun, not on command,” he grumbled, then joined Tía Leandra behind Mirabel, “how have we raised such an impatient daughter?”

“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who took her jogging every morning,” Leandra said.

Amada ran into Antonio’s room, shouting, “Quick, before her parents get out!”

Mirabel pressed her lips together, glancing at the door bearing her mother’s face. She did a double take, now instead of just showing her Má, the door showed her Pá standing hand in hand with her. Mirabel craned her neck around the growing crowd of cousins to see that Tío Bruno’s and Tía Pepa’s doors had been similarly altered.

Her parents’ door opened, just as Amada ran up holding Antonio. She put Antonio down then stood next to Tío Bruno, bouncing on the tip of her toes.

Camilo raised an eyebrow at her then turned to Mirabel and said, “Wouldn’t it be so messed up if she brought us out here to watch your door disappear aga-. Ay!”

Camilo shot a dirty look at Dolores, who had smacked him upside the head. She gave as good as she got, however, and glared at him until he rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. He grumbled something about joking around, but for once Mirabel didn’t find her cousin that funny.

It would, in fact, be very messed up if her door disappeared again.

Warm hands landed on her shoulders, she turned and found her Má standing just behind her with a warm smile. Her Pá stood next to her.

Mirabel took a deep breath, then reached for the doorknob. She hesitated with her hand a centimeter from the door, her Má squeezed her shoulders and out of the corner of her eye she could see Amada practically dancing in place with excitement. Mirabel squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed the doorknob.

She heard a few gasps, and Amada started giggling, even clapping a little, but Mirabel didn’t dare to open her eyes.

“It’s alright Mirabel,” her Pá said, “look.”

Mirabel hesitated just a little longer, but the doorknob was still there, still solid in her hand, so she took another deep breath, then risked cracking her eyes open.

The door was still there.

Even though a part of her was really happy, ecstatic actually, in her surprise the first words out of her mouth were, “Wait, why am I old?”

On the door was a little old lady with curly hair, glasses, and what seemed to be a hand knit shawl. Her eyes were closed and her lips were pulled into a serene smile, she had her hands cupped together in front of her and a butterfly perched on her fingertips.

“I had the same exact question,” Abuela sighed, “supposedly Casita can’t change the doors as we age, but I’m not sure I fully believe that.”

Casita clattered the tiles insistently, but Mirabel was with Abuela on this one. What? Casita could make rooms larger than the house itself, add stairs whenever the need arose, and change the color of the floor tiles on a whim, but changing the picture on a door was out of the question? 

She shook it off, however, and stepped closer to her door. Slowly, she traced her fingers over her name, carved and glowing, in the wood.

“Do you want to go in?” Má asked, quietly.

Mirabel gulped, “Can I uh, can I do this next part um alone?”

Almost immediately, her family dispersed, the only delay being that all fifteen members of her family wanted to give her a quick hug, and congratulate her on the new room.

Mirabel stood in front of the door, staring at her older self, and listened to them walk away. They were chattering, clearly trying to give her privacy, Mirabel heard the word “pool” then a few exclamations of excitement. Luisa suggested a pool party, then Abuela extended the offer to the villagers milling around the house. Tía Pepa told Mirabel to meet them at the pool when she was ready, while Tío Félix began ushering everybody off to change into their swimsuits.

And then the entire house was silent.

Mirabel was alone.

She continued to stare at her older self.

That woman there looked so serene, so content, so wise. She looked like she had everything figured out, like there was nothing in this world that could bother her.

Mirabel drew in a shaking breath.

She felt very bothered. Everything was suddenly different. Mirabel could feel the miracle, like Abuela did; she had a door, presumably with a room behind it; and she finally felt like she was contributing to the familia. In so many ways, it was exactly what she wanted, and that was unexpectedly terrifying.

Staring at the old woman on her door, Mirabel wondered how she could ever possibly measure up to that calm smile.

A door opened and closed, somebody started walking towards Luisa’s room then paused.

“You know the door isn’t going to open itself,” Isabela called out, no sympathy in her voice, “come on, hurry up, you are not leaving me alone to face Camilo and Octavia all by myself.”

“Do you mind,” Mirabel said, turning to glare at Isabela, “this is a big moment for me!”

“I do mind, actually. Thanks for asking,” she smiled primly, “It's just a matter of time before somebody starts a water fight in there, and I will be so pissed if you leave Luisa and I hanging. Especially since Luisa is always way too worried about going easy on the younger kids.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes and grumbled a few choice words under her breath. Isabela didn’t rise to the bait, however, she just continued on to Luisa’s door.

“Grumble and name call all you want, but hurry up. You’re our team's strategist,” Isabel said, “it’s your job to come up with a way to absolutely destroy our cousins.”

Despite herself, Mirabel huffed out a quiet chuckle. She glanced once more at Isabela’s back, then took a deep breath and opened her door.

She felt the magic spread out, forming the room as Mirabel entered it. Tiles painted with symbols rolled out underneath her feet, a lot of them had the same symbols Mirabel used to represent her family members when she was embroidering, but some of them had symbols Mirabel didn’t recognize. Still more were somehow empty looking, as if they were waiting to be filled. 

The walls in the room’s entryway were covered in murals, and not just any murals, they depicted memories Mirabel shared with each member of her family. She stopped to place her fingertips on a picture of Antonio smiling in her lap, as she embroidered a new handkerchief for his neck.

She walked around the plush couch and armchairs that sat in the short corridor, just waiting for her to invite people in so they could sit there laughing and chatting for hours, and entered the room proper.

Beyond the entryway, the room opened up into a workshop. There were bins that would be perfect for keeping fabric in, spools waiting for yarn or thread, a sewing machine, a giant pin cushion filled with pins and needles, pegs filled to the bursting with embroidery hoops, and an actual loom.

The lights hanging down from the ceiling were encased in bulbs of stained glass, depicting golden butterflies over a green and blue background. Yet more lights sat on some of the work tables, simple lamps that shined exactly where she’d need them to. 

In one corner of the room was a big pile of cushions, like the one Tío Bruno had, in the other was a loft like from Luisa’s room with more plush armchairs under it and a wall of bookshelves, finally, on the far wall was a cozy looking window seat like Dolores’.

Any wall that wasn’t covered in storage or crafting supplies, instead had more murals. They were too small to hold entire scenes, so they depicted things like butterflies, waterfalls, animals, and flowers. Mirabel laughed a little when she noticed a picture of a rat in the corner behind the sewing machine.

The ceiling was perhaps the best part of all, it was painted to look like the Encanto from atop of Casita, including the mountains and the sky. The sky was a mosaic, on the side nearest the entrance, it showed the shining, golden sunrise, and on the side nearest her bed, it displayed a sparkling night sky. In between, it was a gradient, displaying every color as the day wore on.

Mirabel turned around, slowly, in the center of her room. Taking it all in.

It was perfect. She felt so happy she might cry.

Her eyes landed on the loft, and without further ado she ran up it, finding a four poster bed, and her old dresser waiting at the top. There were a few potted plants there as well, Mirabel made a note to bring Isabela up here so she could tell her about some of them.

For now, Mirabel threw herself onto the bed so she could look up at the Encanto on her ceiling without straining her neck.

She had no idea how long she stared at it, before somebody knocked insistently on her door. Mirabel sat up, and the knocking happened again.

Mirabel looked around but her clock from the nursery had been destroyed when the house collapsed, so she had no way to tell the time. When the knocking happened a third time, she got out of the bed and hurried to the door.

The knocking had just started up a fourth time, sounding much closer to the ground than it should have been, when she pulled it open. The toucan on the other side startled, fluttering its feathers, and hopped back from the door. Antonio stood behind it looking a little sheepish in his swimsuit.

“Can I see your room?” He asked, in a quiet whisper.

Mirabel smiled down at him, and opened the door further, “Come on in. You can look around while I put on my suit.”

With a wide smile, Antonio trotted into the room, followed by Parce, a couple toucans, and a capybara. The capybara didn’t get that far before it spotted the armchairs, instead of following Antonio further, it climbed into one of the chairs, and put its head down to nap.

Mirabel stopped to give it a few scratches before she walked back into her room. Parce was laid out on her cushion pile, watching Antonio run around the room, oohing and awing over everything. One of the toucans remained perched on Antonio’s shoulder, while the other sat on one of the work tables, eyeing the painted toucan on the wall in front of it.

She didn’t linger any longer, instead she went up to her wardrobe, put on her bathing suit, and walked back downstairs. 

Waiting with the capybara in her entryway, she watched Antonio marvel at the giant pin cushion in the center of her room, which was a little larger than he was. The toucan on his shoulder got a little too close to one of the pins, and Antonio took a hurried step back.

“Careful, those are sharp,” he told the bird.

It squawked back at him.

He sighed, “I know they’re shiny, but they’re still sharp.”

The toucan looked about as put out as a bird could.

“Come on,” she called, “let’s get to the party before the temptation becomes too great.”

Antonio spared a cautious glance at his bird friend, then nodded. He led the way out of the room, although the capybara largely ignored him, and seemed to sink even further into the chair the more Antonio tried to insist it was time to go.

“It’s alright,” Mirabel eventually said, “they can stay, as long as they don’t make a mess.”

“Bien, she says you can stay, but you’re not allowed to make a mess,” Antonio relayed the message, the capybara sighed deeply.

Finally, Mirabel stepped out of the room, her room. She closed the door once Antonio and his animal entourage were through, and stared at the little old lady on it for another beat.

Luisa’s door was open, and people were streaming into it. Antonio grabbed her hand, together they joined the crowd entering Luisa’s room. They were, apparently, the last of the cousins to arrive. As soon as Camilo spotted them he let out an excited whoop, then promptly pushed Gabriel into the pool.

“Water war,” he declared, then cannon balled into the water, splashing Isabela and Octavia.

The next hour or two were lost to the carnage as the three teams of siblings did everything they could to soak the other teams of siblings as thoroughly as possible.

The fight ended, as it usually did, when Luisa and Gabriel found themselves faced off against Antonio, and he gave them big sad eyes until they both declared their surrender.

“Booo,” Isabela jeered.

“Oh come on Gabe, every time,” Amada groused.

“That’s my boy,” Camilo laughed, lifting Antonio onto his shoulders.

Dolores didn’t say anything, but she did come up and give Antonio a quiet high five.

“How come that never worked for me,” Tío Bruno quietly asked his sisters. Mirabel was pretty sure she was the only one close enough to the triplets to hear him. Other than Dolores, of course.

“Because fuck you,” Tía Pepa said.

Julieta snorted, but quietly admonished, “Language, the kids are right there.”

“Yeah Pepa, watch your dirty ass mouth,” Tío Bruno snickered.

Mirabel turned to look at them just in time to see Tía Pepa smack Tío Bruno. She made eye contact with her Má, who was smiling and shaking her head. Mirabel quietly laughed, turning back to her cousins.

Sitting on the far edge of the pool was Abuela, calmly talking to Tío Félix and Tía Leandra. Behind them, on one of the patio chairs, her Pá was pinned beneath a cavalcade of small furry animals.

Mirabel swam over to their side of the pool, “Pá? Did you want to swim?”

He looked down at the napping baby capybaras, and the tapir pinning him to the chair, then said, “And disturb their nap? I could never.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes, even as she chuckled a little, “Are you thirsty or anything? I was going to get myself some juice.”

“A drink would be nice,” he admitted.

“Be right back,” she climbed out of the pool and headed towards the juice bar. She spent some time playing around, crafting a concoction for herself out of as many fruit juices as she could fit in one glass, then poured something much simpler for her Pá.

He thanked her for it, when she brought it back to him, but turned down her offer to sit with him for a little, “No, no, don’t you worry about me, you go have fun. Enjoy yourself mija! You can come join me when you’re tired and need to rest.”

Mirabel tried to shrug blithely, “Maybe I’m tired right now?”

One of her Pá’s eyebrows crept up over the frame of his glasses, “Oh? That’s funny, usually when you’re tired your shoulders droop a little more.”

She glanced at her shoulders, which definitely weren’t drooping.

“Really corazon,” he smiled at her gently, “go have fun. It’s not your job to entertain me.”

She gave in, kissing him on the forehead and promising to be back when she had worn herself out a little. Then she wandered off to find Antonio, he was playing with Tía Pepa and Parce, making up a new game. He happily brought Mirabel into it, explaining the convoluted rules to her while swimming back and forth between his Mamí’s arms and the steps.

When Mirabel did eventually find herself tiring, she returned to her Pá, only to find him napping under the (now larger) pile of animals.

Mirabel yawned and looked around, by now, it would seem everybody was a bit worn out. The villagers were trickling out, thanking Luisa for allowing them to enjoy her pool as they went. Camilo, Gabriel, Amada, and Dolores were playing a calm game of cards, while Mariano and Octavia sat with Isabela, allowing her to try different pigments in their hair. Tío Félix was drying off Antonio, who could barely keep his eyes open, while the triplets and Tía Leandra had already left to rustle up an easy dinner for the familia. Finally, Abuela sat on one of the lounge chairs, staring into space with a small frown on her face.

She walked over and joined her, “You alright?”

Abuela startled, then smiled at her gently, but a little sadly, “Ay mija, you don’t have to keep taking care of me.”

“You’ve been taking care of the rest of us all this time,” Mirabel pointed out, “what goes around comes around.”

“I have regrets,” she said, almost casually, “but I suppose most people do by my age. I am simply trying to… making up for my mistakes will take time, and a lot of careful consideration.”

Mirabel thought about that, the serene old woman on her door flashing through her mind. Slowly sitting on the lounge next to Abuela’s she asked, “Do you really think most people end up with regrets?”

“Sí,” Abuela answered, without a second’s hesitation, “life is complicated, and even when we try to make all the right choices… well, I believe I have demonstrated how wrong we can be. I think, perhaps, my biggest mistake-. I never thought myself perfect, I’ve always felt-, known, that I would never get it exactly right. But I did not pause to take stock of my actions, of what I was doing wrong.”

Mirabel nodded along but didn’t respond, her mind caught between sympathy for Abuela, and wondering what her own future would be like. What mistakes would she make? And would she have the wisdom to stop and take a good hard look at her actions every once in a while?

Abuela eventually continued, “I will have to learn how to do that. If it isn’t possible to be perfect, then I will have to learn how to be humble.”

“I’ll learn with you,” Mirabel said, partly out of solidarity, but mostly because she never wanted to lose Casita again.

But Abuela shook her head, “In time, perhaps, but first Mirabel, I think you should continue practicing confidence. I have been so focused on protecting you and the miracle, I fear I have been-. I have perhaps held you back. You have proven yourself to be quite capable, and an excellent leader. I-, it may be time for me to learn humility, but it is time for you to learn who you are without me pushing you into the nursery.”

“But… but I already,” Mirabel nibbled on her lip, “Abuela, I figured out where the cracks were coming from, and instead of fixing it I made it-.”

Abuela held up a hand, a familiar stern scowl on her face, “Mirabel, don’t you dare finish that sentence. You have already said it best, our home needed a new foundation. You could have done and said everything right, and the results would have been the same. Perhaps if I had-, I am not saying that you are perfect, or are expected to be; however, you are certainly capable of far more than I have ever given you credit for. I’m sorry that I have taught you to doubt yourself so thoroughly.”

Mirabel blinked back tears, surprised by how good it felt to hear Abuela say that, even after all of the bonding they’d done over the past month.

“It’s alright Abuela.”

“It isn’t, but I suppose it will take more than a single conversation to convince you of that,” she shook her head, then in a conspiratorial voice said, “You know, I don’t think Brunito got it exactly right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you hold a bit of the miracle in you, Mirabel,” Abuela reached over to gently push a strand of curls behind Mirabel’s ear, “Every single one of you is a blessing, and you mija, you represent everything I have wanted for this familia. Everything I myself have strived to be. You are kind, hard working, strong, and loving. You are the miracle, not the gifts, not the magic, just you.”

Mirabel sniffled, smiling tremulously. Rising from her chair, she hugged her Abuela, who squeezed her as tightly as she could at their awkward angle. When they pulled apart, Mirabel noticed that the rest of the family was gathering around the juice bar and grabbing plates somebody had brought. 

She helped her Abuela to stand, and together they made their way over. Exhausted as everybody was, dinner was a sedate affair, followed by a much less sedate battle for the bathroom so everybody could brush their teeth and go to bed.

With the celebration over, and the family all in their rooms, Mirabel paused again to stare at her older self on her brand new door.

She thought about Abuela, who was full of strength, and wisdom, and grief and love and regret. She thought about her Tío Bruno, and his unshakeable faith in her. She thought about her parents, who were always there for her. And of course, she thought about her cousins and sisters, and everything about them that made her laugh or want to smack them.

Where before the old woman’s smile had seemed to be one of perfect contentment, it now looked to Mirabel like a smile of quiet joy. A promise that although life wouldn’t be perfect, that although Mirabel wouldn’t be perfect, she would be happy. 

She understood, very suddenly, why Casita would choose this image for her door. It was to comfort her, to reassure her.

Mirabel wouldn’t live happily ever after, but she would live happily.

The End

[thelazyhermits]

Idk if this been ask or not but...

Im really curious on hcs of fortune and rody? 👀

You know, I don't think I've gotten an ask about those two before, or at least, I definitely don't remember ever getting one lol

Honestly, I never completely decided on the details of that dynamic since I had wanted to wait to see how things would unfold once I started writing the fic for WHM, which unfortunately got put on the backburner due to my intense TWST brainrot lol

And since it's been a while since I last thought about this topic, I can't completely remember everything I came up with that I never actually wrote down, but let's see what I can scrounge up after getting rid of all the cobwebs in my brain 😂

Hmmm let's see, for starters, Rody first finds out abut Fortune from Midoriya during the time the boys are on the run. He can tell Midoriya trusts/cares about her a lot, so it makes him a little curious about her.

Rody is completely caught off guard when he first meets Fortune cause he wasn't expecting her to be so young since Midoriya never mentioned that important tidbit of information, so he gets a little flustered around her at first, especially since she's so nice to him.

Originally, Rody had intended to be on his guard around her cause he doesn't really trust adults, but upon seeing that Fortune isn't that much older than him, he finds it easier to let his walls down, especially since Fortune treats him similar to how she does her students, aka she looks out for him/worries about him, etc.

I had even contemplated Rody ending up with a cute little crush on her by the end of the movie, but that idea wasn't set in stone. It was just something I considered cause I thought it'd be fun to write haha

By the end of the movie, Rody has a lot of respect for Fortune cause she works so hard for the sake of everyone she believes is under her protection, including himself, and he admires how strong she is and the fact that, despite not being a pro hero, she can fight as well as her students and is willing to protect others at the risk of putting herself in harm's way.

Regarding Fortune's thoughts on Rody, she first finds out about him via her visions of his and Midoriya's road trip. It doesn't take her long to take a liking to Rody cause she can tell he's a good kid and is just doing his best to survive and look after his family.

She really admires Rody for being such a great big brother and for all the amazing skills he's picked up in order to survive. She's glad someone like him ended up befriending Midoriya since those two make a good team in her eyes.

As far as how I would describe this relationship as a whole, it's kinda hard to say. It's definitely different from her relationship with her students since Rody doesn't have to be polite toward her, nor does she have to worry about being a good example toward him/teaching him, etc.

I guess "friends" would work since they are essentially friends by the end of the movie's events lol

Rody gives me a lot of Hawks vibes, so I like the idea of Fortune's friendship with Rody eventually becoming like her friendship with Hawks since I think that'd be fun haha

[hotchs-second-wife]

DON'T BLAME ME || 1 || Jay Halstead / Thea Rhodes

Synopsis: Theodosia Rhodes, the youngest daughter of a big-time Chicago CEO, needs a husband of her own choice before her father makes that decision for her. Jason Halstead, newly-made Intelligence detective, needs a wife to inherit his portion of his mother's inheritance.

Warnings: Mentions of arson, kidnapping, murder, rape; allusion to childhood trauma, suicide, cancer-related death; descriptions of vehicular accidents including, but not limited to, car-on-car collision, car-on-truck, train; outright familial/parental pressure; portrayal of misogyny and misandry. Read ahead at your own risk.

THEODOSIA

My phone buzzed against the bar shelf, as I slid two Long Island ice teas. The constant vibrantions from my pocket annoyed me, so lately I kept a box under the bar for employees to leave their phones if they wanted.

"Should probably answer that," Matt chided from my right. Despite the crowd in Molly's, he could still hear my phone on vibrate. Granted, we were trained to hear the littlest things.

Kelly laughed beside him. "I can guarantee it's the old man or the sister."

"More likely my sister," I snorted, pulling out another bear for them. "Less talk about my familial pressure for marriage and more drinking, boys."

"You don't need our money, you're richer than the entire department," Kelly frowns.

"I do need to pay my employees though, and I'd rather use the money made from this place than my allowance." Considering I own Molly's and not Cornelius. "I might own a department store but Molly's isn't in cahoots with Dolan Rhodes, and I'd rather keep it that way."

Kelly raised his beer in agreement, before I set off to serve other customers. I tend to the usual, everyday regulars that I only ever see in the bar and not at my full-time job, then head over to the officers and detectives sitting at the very end of my bar.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Antonio nodded once politely, earning a light smack from me. "You might work with my sister, but I'm not getting kicked out for pissing off the bartender."

I snickered, "you have a lot more than getting kicked out to worry about, Antonio. I know all your dirty little secrets. Everyone bullshits to the bartender."

"Just the usual, Rhodes," Atwater laughed between him and Ruzek. I grabbed the men their usual drinks, moving on to cleaning the glasses in the sink.

Ruzek, amidst his friends' conversation, looked at me over his bottle. "My sister's finished med school, and I know your old man donates to Chicago Med."

"And you want me to put in a good word for her?" I nodded over his head. "Which one is she?"

"She doesn't drink, knowing the risks as a doctor and all."

I smiled. "Like her already. I'll put in a good word, as long as you bring her next time. We got a stock of non-alcoholics out back for when we have shift the next day."

Ruzek thanked me and returned to conversation with his co-workers. I heard my name called, following the voice to Gabby Dawson, one of the best paramedics I know and a damn good barkeep.

"You've met Severide's sister," Gabby waved a hand at Brooklyn Severide.

"How could I not when I babysit her niece?"

Brooklyn raised her glass to me, "my niece's mother, you mean."

"You got a kid?" One detective Jay Halstead asked me.

That particular detective that seduced one of my greatest friends, a non-blood sister, and lied to her for the sake of undercover work. He then proceed to let Molly's get set on fire, the one bar owned and worked by firefighters, and broke up with her in the end. I still wanted to kick his ass for that.

Mostly for Gabby, but also for Molly's. My poor baby.

I raised my head a little. "Best friend's kid, lost her mom. I try to be the mother she deserves." To say I'm still a little apprehensive of the detective would be an understatement.

"And you are," Brooklyn held my arm in her hand, before going back to her drink. "Best damn woman in the world, this one."

I see what's happening.

"Fire lieutenant, great with kids, animals and the elderly. Great with cops too. Did I mention she scaled a two story house to get a cat out of a tree because the truck ladder was stuck?" Brooklyn, a little tipsy already, latched onto Halstead's wrist.

He laughed. For such a dick, the laugh was cute. Really brought out a young side to him. Too bad he's a liar. "About a million times, Brooke. You tried to scout her off to Atwater this morning."

"You did?" I deadpanned. In the near decade I'd known her, Brooklyn had been trying to set me up with men—and women when I came out to her—left and right. I was too good for her brother, apparently. I doubted she realised her brother was also like a brother to me.

It just so happened that his daughter looks more like me with her gorgeous brown hair and brown eyes, and likes to call me Mommy whenever her dad brings her over.

"He's a handsome man, Rho, and he'd take good care of you." Brooklyn excused, turning back to Halstead. "Did I mention benefits? Also she's rich, so that's its own benefit."

She's trying to set me up with this dickwad.

"I'm not that urgent for a wife," Halstead shook his head at Brooklyn, keeping his arm out under his partner's hand.

Kelly called across the room to me, "Mom, baby's calling for you!" That got me there in two seconds. Elizabeth Severide was the cutest little girl in existence, and she would be gorgeous as she got older. The Italian in her would bring that out in her.

She was in every way her dad's daughter, from the smile down to the attitude. The Severide siblings were already a lot to deal with, and to pile on a mini-version of Kelly? I couldn't say no to Elli's little face though.

Elizabeth lost her mother when she was born, and the moment Kelly met his baby girl, I had been with him and encouraged him to at least see her before deciding to let her maternal grandparents take her. He'd asked me an important name to me, in which I said his name or Matt's. They were the closest to brothers I had since Connor went overseas.

When it came down to girls names, it had to be my mother's. I lost her when I was ten, to depression, but she was still my mother, down to the looks and personality. So he'd named her Elizabeth Leslie, after my mother and his best friend, Shay.

Shay was ecstatic her best friend's kid was named after her, and it happened that her middle name was Elizabeth. More often times than not, she'd call Elli by her middle name because she liked it so much.

"Hi, Mommy!" Elli waved at me over FaceTime through Kelly's phone. She was at the Herrmanns', while I worked and Kelly hung out until it was time for him to head home. "What are you doing?"

"I'm working, Reginetta." I smiled, taking the phone from her dad. She loved the little nickname I called her, since I'd promised her mother's parents I'd teach her Italian. Being privately tutored in a language of my choice helped them agree to let Kelly keep her. "Are you in bed?"

"Cindy said I can stay up until Daddy comes pick up!"

She was the cutest little 4-year-old ever.

"Well Daddy will be home with Christopher soon. Christopher is almost finished working." I took the beer from his hands.

Elli took her eyes off me for a second, looking over the phone. "Lee Henry said you have to marry soon. Do I get a new daddy?"

"No, your daddy will still be your daddy. I can't replace him."

"But Cindy said you're not marrying Daddy."

I nodded. "That's right. I'm marrying a different man, because my daddy tells me to."

"Do you not love Daddy anymore?"

Oh sweet baby. "I love your Daddy as much as I love you, Reginetta. But your Daddy isn't the man for me. He'll marry a good woman who will love you just as much as we do."

"But I don't want another Mommy, or another Daddy!" She cried, tears falling over her chubby cheeks. "Only you and Daddy!"

"It's okay, baby, you won't see my husband unless your Daddy is okay with it, and only if you want to. He'll just be Mommy's husband."

She nodded, little sniffles leaving her nose as Cindy helped her wipe her tears. "Principessa, your Daddy and I will never introduce you to a man or a woman if you don't want to meet them. Besides, you'll probably be much older when we ask about it."

"Daddy said I'll see you o-morrow at the Big House."

My house looked like a downsized version of the firehouse, so she called my house "Mommy's House" and 51 the "Big House". It worked just as well with her calling Chief Boden the "Big Man".

"That's great! Now you get ready for Daddy to come get you, and I'll see you tomorrow, little one." I hung up and gave Kelly a look to find Herrmann. He did just that, taking his phone and leaving a kiss to the side of my head beforehand.

#

Closing up was as easy as cleaning a pig's back. And that was an understatement, given that I know how to clean a pig while they're running around.

With everything locked up in the bar, and the front door locked, I headed out the back where I expected Brooklyn to be. We were planning to finish off Europe trip plans before we passed out, but her car was nowhere to be seen.

"Antonio said she was too drunk to stay any longer, so he took her home." Halstead's voice carried over the small parking lot reserved for Molly's employees and family. He wasn't family; not to the bar owner. "I called Severide, he said I could park here. His sister's best friend and all. You wouldn't mind, according to him."

Brooklyn was too drunk my ass. I served her all her drinks, and when I wasn't, Gabby was. I knew how much she had.

Little shit trying to set me up.

"I'm sure you know just as well as me, but I'm fully aware she's trying to set us up, and I know you're hating it just as much as you hate me."

"I don't hate you." Now you're a freaking liar, Theodosia. "Just, despise you more than the average person."

He laughed, genuinely, while he moved around his truck to open the passenger door for me. "I think there's people that would argue with that. Unlike you, I was a screwed up kid."

"And how would you know what I was like?" I asked, and he shut the door before I even got an answer. Sitting in his car in silence was peaceful, and somehow comforting. An old smell that was awfully familiar ran over my skin.

Halstead shut the driver's door after he sat down. "One, you're the most popular woman in Chicago. Two, you did everything your dad told you to, even if it was clear you didn't enjoy it. Like modelling."

That was the bane of my long existence. I hated it, and thanked whoever had been listening to my prayers that I'd found firefighting and loved it. It was the first decision I made about my career life, and the first decision I made the moment I turned 18.

Connor had wanted to leave America, start his adult life in another country while he studied medicine, but I dug my roots into the ground of the Chicago Fire Department and fought my way through the academy on my own. I made sure the brass didn't accept any money from my old man so I knew I could accomplish something in my own right.

And it wouldn't bite me in the ass later on either. I'd found myself a real family, one where Boden was a better father than my actual one.

"Brooke always talks so highly of you," Halstead mentioned, his eyes on the road.

For as long as I've known Kelly, I've known Brooklyn. Sweet girl, only a year younger than me. I was almost directly in the middle of the Severides, with Kelly three years my senior. Kelly had been my guide right out of the academy, and when Boden wasn't mentoring me, Kelly was taking me over the basics of rescue firefighting. He'd been candidate for a few months before Matt had arrived, then he was bumped up to rescue squad about a month before I appeared.

Matt and Kelly, being a couple years older, wanted me to get close to Brooklyn, since we were closer in age and women. I was 22, and Brooklyn 21, when Kelly took us out drinking for her 21st. Unbeknownst to Brooklyn—or Kelly—one of the guys over at Firehouse 38 had preyed his eyes on the fresh 21-year-old in the bar.

I'd beaten the shit out of him, and Boden had to convince the patrol sergeant in charge not to charge me. That I was a dedicated firefighter that was just shy of 3 weeks from moving up to search squad, and that I didn't need a stained record when the lieutenants were already riding my ass.

I've had Brooklyn glued to my hip at bars since then. She was always great company, and much more of a pleasure to be around than Kelly when she was drunk. A giggly, playful sort.

She looked up to like the older sister she didn't have, and admired that I put my foot down to my father. Something she wishes she could do.

"Yeah, well, Benny and my father aren't all that different. One's just rich and the other one is god knows where." It was true, for the most part. I knew where Benny was, or where he should've been. And I knew he was coming up to Chicago to see his granddaughter.

Halstead agreed. "She said he's a better grandfather than a father."

"Most shit dads tend to be better with other people's kids. Benny's been great to me, but that's just to get on Kelly's good side. Be nice to your granddaughter's mother figure and you get your son happy."

He didn't say anything to that, but I didn't expect him to. As much as I knew about him, which wasn't much since he'd only been Brooklyn's partner for less than a month, but he didn't have all that good a relationship with his dad either. That's mostly why he and Brooklyn were so close as far as I was concerned.

"About that wife thing," Halstead glanced in his rearview mirror. "I need a wife to get my inheritance from my mother. It's been 10 years, and her will lawyer said if neither my brother nor I claim any of the money, it'll just go to my father. She wanted Will and I to have anything she did, since Dad didn't see her right to the end."

Well shit. Here I was being a bitch about him earlier and bitching to Otis about Brooklyn trying to set me up to marry him, and he needs a wife to keep money from his horrid father.

"She mentioned your dad's been on you to marry men twice your age and you're hating it."

"Hating is an understatement. I could pick any one of them out in a line up against my dad and I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference."

Halstead paused, looking at me before he continued. "She suggested I marry you purely to get your dad off your ass and my inheritance from my dad."

"How long do you have?"

"A week. My mom died 10 years ago on Friday."

A husband—a detective husband at that—would get my father to back off. He could get the inheritance he's keeping from his father, and I'd get to live my life in peace from an unwanted marriage.

"Okay, you have a deal."

[kyofsonder]

Hey, Ky! Happy STS! If your story/ies were an Aesop Fable (or other comparable piece of media) with an explicit moral listed, what would that moral be?

Thank you for the ask, and happy STS!

I think a lot about the themes of my WIPs, but I don't usually frame them as morals or lessons. It's interesting to see them in a new light.

I got long-winded as usual, so I'll put my answer under a cut for convenience.

The plot of Apricots as a novel is about a man who's struggling to move on after the death of his girlfriend, gaining the power to travel between alternate timelines. He tries to save her in every timeline, losing others he loves along the way and trying to save them as well. The more he tries, the more he loses his place in reality. In the end, he has to choose whether to risk himself and others for the sake of those he loves or accept that there's nothing he can do to bring them back.

The moral of Apricots as a fable would probably be that there are times when the only way forward is to first go back. If he takes the risk and succeeds, that means he had to circle around to figure out a way to forge ahead. If he doesn't take the risk or he fails, that means he had to go back to prove to himself that there are no ways out back there and he can only move forward with those exits sealed.

The plot of A Place to Return as a novel is about a pair of best friends, connected across worlds, who each make their own costly mistakes as reckless kids. The one in a world with magic tries relentlessly to get revenge for what was taken from them both, and the one in a world of mundane technology tries to repair what he broke. Both are trying to find a place where they belong, and to justify that belonging in light of their past failures. In the end, the one pursuing revenge is on the verge of doing something he could never come back from, and it's up to his other half to try and save him.

The moral of A Place to Return as a fable would probably be a classic "revenge doesn't pay off" lesson, or a lesson about the importance of relying on your friends and loved ones when you're not steady enough to rely on yourself.

As a novel the plot of To Be Honest is about a couple of magic users in college who have felt more used by their magic than the other way around. They've been so used to their innate powers dragging them around and forcing them to adapt that meeting each other -- meeting someone who doesn't set off their respective powers at all -- makes them want to start fresh. They lie to each other about their identities and their magic, keeping secrets that neither of them have ever really had the option to keep. By the time they realize that keeping up this facade is as tiring as having to wear their magic on their sleeves, and that they genuinely want to tell each other the truth, their pasts have come to call and the timing to come clean on their own has been lost. In the end, they have to figure out how to be honest with each other while facing the things that initially made hiding from everyone else impossible.

The moral of To Be Honest as a fable would probably be one of the classics. The value of honesty, the dangers of lying, the importance of communication, the way preconceived ideas can hurt someone, the burdens of pretending to be something you're not, those sorts of lessons. Either that, or it would be a lesson about not giving up on understanding something/someone/yourself before you've really tried.

The plot of Stray Identities (WT) is about a world-hopping, runaway, shapeshifter prince who's unintentionally involved a lot of people in his political problems and been unable to prevent them from paying the price for that involvement. He tries to atone for what he's done by erasing his own memories of the past -- not to pretend they didn't happen, but to become someone new and remove his identity as a prince from the equation so he can never be a threat again. He's living this new life, with barely any of his memories left on a conscious level, when someone from his past appears and tells him that there are some who survived. There are people he thought he'd doomed, people he thought he'd lost, who are still alive and need his help. He has to fight between the desire to lose his memories and the need to rely on them as he travels with new and old friends to save these survivors, discovering things about himself and his psyche and the impression left on him by those he's lost along the way. In the end, he has to figure out who he's become and decide who he wants to be -- to give up on his relationships with the people he's trying to save or to give up on the chance to have a new life without his memories of them.

The moral of Stray Identities (WT) as a fable would probably be that hiding from yourself ultimately makes you more vulnerable, or that the only one who can define who you are is you.

*

I might not have turned all of these into "lessons" in the way you meant, but simplifying the themes of my WIPs into something that could be interpreted as a moral does give me a new perspective on them and actually inspires me to work on them more. Thank you again for the ask!

[throne-for-queens]

1. Nobody’s here waiting with bated breath to convince you about who ‘sun to me’ song’s about. BTW he used that phrase in his own documentary which at least imo is still art & not to any press as you claim. Also funny you wouldn’t trust his interviews but want to point out to an ig caption of his & song dedications to prove your point. Desperate times hah😂…consistency much…

2. You seem to be contradicting your own statement so nothing much to respond to. Maybe you should practice what you preach and put your thoughts to what you say rather than mindlessly typing.

3. PR: Only two in the list?? I thought you would say Banyan tree, bloody valentine acoustic ‘MF’ dedication, matching tattoos, documentary etc…

4. Again you seem to be contradicting your own stance taken earlier. You said you always believe his lyrics over any other form (even his interviews to his friends/acquaintances ) but now you are putting a disclaimer on believing his lyrics too😳. So you only believe what you want to believe which has got nothing to do with any truth..Gotcha. Also glad to know that you know how to smile🤗

5. It’s literally not that deep. She went on CHD and tried to dumb it down for ppl like you by explaining what the blood drinking ritual meant to them and also maybe much to your disappointment , denied being into all the witchcraft related stuff. Further, she was literally mocking that MAGA right wing transphobe racist failed politician who was unprovokingly putting the safety of her children at risk for the sake of reviving his political career but you of course want to call her as threatening a ‘opponent’. Maybe it’s time YOU actually started listening rather than mindlessly hearing and thoughtlessly believing.

6. Lmao yes I do know that song, but it’s been 4.5 years now and counting and she’s still his ‘bloody valentine’ ..so at this point the joke’s on you😂

. This has been going on so long, I don't even know which asks this is referring to anymore 😂

Trump:

'He was a legend, that arena was very supportive of Trump when he came in,’ she explained. ‘I don’t know how I feel about it because if someone is a target then I’m like “I could be harmed because I’m adjacent to where he is” so I was worried about my own safety, that’s what I was caring about'

Call Her Daddy:

Around the 10-minute mark, Fox told CHD host Alex Cooper that "everything is a matter of what you're accustomed to or what is currently socially acceptable or normal," in regards to blood drinking. Fox considered the gesture between her and MGK to be "innocent," comparing the oath to instances where young boys would become "blood brothers" with their close friends,

"That's not satanic, right? That's normal and that's cute and sweet. That's an innocent ... little bond between kids who love each other, and they have a pure friendship," she said. "It's like that, except instead of rubbing your fingers together, the drop of blood goes in your mouth."

[niconiconwo]

How bad is the culture war stuff that drove you from the left?

The biggest thing that has me hard nopeing is BRIDGE, essentially a DEI evangelicalism that wants to force DEI culture on everyone. Not just your typical woke shit either, it's absolutely cult level re-education or get unpersoned.

I don't like financial services pushing this shit either. On a related note is all the places that now police you off-site which should be absolutely illegal but is postured as a safety and inclusion thing. A person's behavior or speech off platform should have zero bearing on their access as long as they comply with platform rules and TOS. This part is the twitter cancel mob mentality being appeased. Numerous sites are like that now, ones I've noticed that are bigger are places like Medium and other creative spaces. I'd be fine with general bans on anything too spicy or outright hateful, but controversial speech isn't hateful and being banned off a site for something unrelated on a separate platform is bullshit.

I've never liked tokenism and always opposed affirmative action as a racist ideology. Now it's being championed as the highest morality you can act upon. Likewise is this push towards equity thing taking root in mainstream; I can agree with the idea that if you have any kind of job there is a minimum living standard you should expect to have accessible to you but I strongly disagree to the idea that the minimum effort should guarantee you a middle class or greater lifestyle. UBI is a great idea, telling employers they have to pay their cashiers enough to afford a suburban mortgage, a car, and put their kids through school is laughable. You want a high flying life, you need to do the work that gets you there. Equitable Outcome is ridiculous.

Next on the sheet is that thing the FHFA did punishing people who actually played by the stupid credit rules to get half-way decent rates in order to subsidise sub-prime loan fees (this point is debated but it's most sensible conclusion; the other one is that actual discrimination for the sake of discrimination is happening). I think the credit system is atrocious personally, so it's even more insulting that people who suck it up and play by the book honestly are paying higher fees than those who fucked around like asshats. And of course it has been done in the name of "equitable access". Why should honest folks who did everything right, especially poors who climbed up the hard way, have to pay more in fees?

This one is not new but has gotten worse, particularly in tech and more specifically in open-source development, codes of conduct that favor radical social policy over code-is-code. People being pushed out of the space purely because they disagree on political or social beliefs, just voicing dissent is enough to get you permanently blacklisted. I find tolerance to be a fine rubric myself, however this goes beyond tolerance. When you begin enforcing inclusion politics, you lose that nice "we're here to make good code" vibe purely to sate certain spastics that want to usurp power from others.

I don't want to longpost more than that, but I could probably go on. The worst part is this isn't all just some fifth column shit, it's originating out of big academia and mega-corpos as some gambit that is incredibly shady. A lot of it is smaller corpos trying to get those free DEI grant bucks, and investor class folks trying to twist the narrative to turn us all into own nothing little slaves even more than we have been. "The work", as they call it, will be your life and will follow you out of the office and you will be obligated to do "the work" forever and everywhere or risk being unpersoned and ruined. It's like a turbo woke 1984. Don't say the bad words, don't think the bad thoughts, don't feel the bad emotions. I'm not some libertarian cuck or aut-rite spastic, but god damn this shit freaks even me out.

[horizon-verizon]

Alicent watches HER 10 YEARS-OLD GRANDSON GET BEHEADED and observes her daughter sinks into madness, but unlike Rhaenyra, she defied the freezed broken mother trope by being a steady and ACTIVE political presence throughout the Dance, even after ONLY Aegon II remained to her.

For all intents and purposes, she acted as a regent in her sons’s absence. She was the main political authority in King’s Landing prior to Aegon II’s return from Dragonstone. It was Alicent who negotiated the reclaiming of the Red Keep during the Moon of Madness. It was her who proclaimed a curfew, had the City Watch reformed and had the three pretender kings arrested. It was her who betrothed Aegon II to Cassandra Baratheon and accepted Corlys Velaryon’s fealty on Aegon’s behalf. It was her machinations, along with Larys Strong, that prevented Alyn Velaryon from attacking Aegon II on Dragonstone and succeeded in bringing him back to King’s Landing. Even after Aegon’s return, Alicent remained a power player in his court and a constant presence in his councils.

Post maybe in response to this one (this has become ongoing).

May I introduce you to this post I made way back about Alicent's politicking and plotting?

1st CORRECTION (from this ask): There is no strong evidence to suggest Alicent was taken out of the room before Blood and Cheese killed Jaehaerys. So she watched her grandchild die.

Not deleting this post bc she could have not participated and enabled the war by not usurping Rhaenyra. And no, she nor her kids were in any material danger either from the other lords nor from Daemon (the first bc 1. they got dragons, the Conquerors bodied the Westerosi with only three AND BEING UNITED!! 2. there were no signs of any rebellion or plans against Rhaenyra or Alicents kids for the time Rhaenyra was meant to ascend 3. we see how many people/houses supporting Rhaenyra more than Aegon, so... // Why not Daemon? As we see w/Blood and Cheese and how he actually huts ignores Alicent and her kids in 111, he doesn't b"other" you if you don't "bother" him or those close to him.) Once again, the greens are the ones who began this whole ordeal, not the blacks. Even as the Targs' past rulers (and some of those around them like Aenys & Jaehaerys) and the 1000s-years-existing patriarchal Andal structure set up anti-female rulers paradigm.

A)

Alicent also lost her composure several times over her sons:

her negotiations with Rhaenyra over dividing the kingdom (Bastard bloodshed in war), which risked Rhaenyra's further enmity towards her...who insults the other person's dead children when they are trying to negotiate with them?! (On the "purely" pragmatic, practical side, this was dumb as hell, and I mention it in the link above)--Those kids that she, Alicent herself whose deaths Alocent is partly responsible for?! Again, when she said that, she mainly wanted to spite Rhaenyra, but it was a risk!

her wanting to mutilate Aegon (I'm going to repeat this fact several times, along with quotes later) which brings Corlys and Larys against her, and Aegon

her wanting to have Aegon's last trueborn heir, Jaehaera, to kill Aegon III for the sake of Alice's rage over her sons' deaths and losing the war, to spite Rhaenyra one last time.

("Rhaenyra Triumphant")

("The Hooded Hand")

"The murder of the last of her sons had turned Alicent’s heart into a stone. None of the regents wished to see her put to death, some from compassion, others for fear that such an execution might rekindle the flames of war. Yet she could not be allowed to take part in the life of the court as before."

("The Hooded Hand")

So, anon, you're just a liar or a very bad reader due to misogyny blinding you.

B)

Since we are supposedly commenting on Alicent's leadership or political strategizing skills, I'll say that yes, Alicent has that particular strength over Rhaenyra. Her actions during the green council helped the greens get one over Rhaenyra, and she did do those things she listed. It's unfortunate that:

her Andal-Faith traditionalism, its subsequent misogyny, and her internalized and weaponized misogyny against a woman for her own ambition made her unpalatable for me, a prospective fan, from almost the start

that strength comes with the other side-of-the-coin: straight-up blindness to her immortality as well as double standard-ness to actions (kinda like you right now) that leads her to her own horrible end of half going mad with denial and regret...which unfortunately for you, I just find less impressive than a woman getting eaten by her enemies' dragon, sue me.

Also, I don't know, acting as if a woman is inherently better as a person than another woman for NOT breaking down about her kids' death screams a lack of empathy for women and mothers bc you think all women who happen to be in positions of power should pick themselves up by their bootstraps, push away their grief, and continue fighting the good fight. Also, it shows nearsightedness to how family and personal life and one's values can color "public" politics. The two can't really be separated in terms of influence and effect.

Not only did you neglect how Alicent still displays what you complain of (I describe and give a quote a little later here), there doesn't seem to be any room for you to consider how such a thing might color the person's later decisions, as Alicent herself wanted to mutilate Aegon III (she is the one who suggested it) to protect herself and her son from Rhaneyra's supporter. She also did not want to comply with Corlys' suggestions to parley with said rebels specifically because she hated and blamed Rhaenyra for her losses (before Aegon's death) and present danger....meanwhile, who usurped who and used misogyny to do it? ("The Short, Sad Reign of Aegon II"):

Once more, she brought about her own end as well, towards her end as well as broadly/in general. Because of that internalized misogyny. We can't pretend that thus was something that guided Alicent into making some critical mistakes and going after Rhaenyra at all.

Again, blinded by your own misogyny.

C)

Take Jaehaerys for a non-Dance example and comparison. His relationship with his kids and his wife sour into two of those daughters' deaths (Daella & Viserra), and he's lucky that out of Daella he got Rhaenyra/the continuance of the house even after Rhaenyra is dead. How he decided:

to sideline and keep his daughters/niece/older sister out of the succession or have some sort of power derived from their own claims

refused to really treat them/pay attention to them

give them autonomy and let them learn politics as Aemon and Baelon probably did

He intentionally wanted to keep the succession male-centered. that was his political move, his suppression of his female family members for his own political winning. They are not distinct, he could not have done one without the other. And it comes to Princess Rhaenys getting passed over in the Council of 101, where he also decided that making the succession built for everyone to comment and decide on (letting the subject decide on the matter of succession more than a king....) was better than continuing to consolidate Targ power....after all, he did before to do the very same, he undoes it all with this....because he thinks power, to stay, needs men-centering....

Do you see what I mean by intelligent, cunning, strategic people still being able to be as stupid as fuck, that stupidity or lack of awareness made up of their perception of self and others, their own abilities, etc.? Alicent is still the one to risk her kids' lives in the endeavor to bring herself, them, and her maiden house prestige and more power.

She also uses Andal succession customs (there are no laws) to push herself forward, but in doing so, she usurped a throne from a woman who had way more followers and dragons...yeah, that was going to go well for her sons. (I already mention this in the link above)

She'd have to ignore the previous king's word (law-breaking, going against tradition, oh how smart and sticking to one's values she is, huh?). Which, yes, IS law, that's how even feudal monarchies work AND that is the whole point of a king/monarch's privilege/power in deciding who their successor is....as Jaehaerys passed over Daenerys for Aemon, Aenys passed Rhaena for Aegon. The value of a king's word is reflected in how only the king/monarch can make bastards, even not their own, legitimate. No one else has this right.

She and you are blinded by misogyny.

D)

Now if you, anon decide you prefer Alicent bc she displayed political acumen, that's fine. We all can be fans or admire different people, and you don't even have to stan anyone while liking a few characters for qualities you admire. But let's not pretend that:

the themes of this story and Fire and Blood and ASoIaF are just about political acumen and how well you can play politics, you let GoT rot your brain otherwise -- remember, love vs duty is rather a more salient topic in ASoIaF

because you display political acumen, you are going to be a better sort of leader than another who displays less. We also need character...she still plunged the country into a war and she also didn't care about any smallfolk so her actions carried with them a careless aristocratic cruelty towards their own suffering. (a rumor that she laughed and mocked the rape and murder of children at Tumbleton...with her disregard for Rhaenyra's "bastard" sons and her willingness to mutilate Aegon III, yes I can very much believe this).

she was perfect or an inherently better person or acted better than Rhaenyra she uses that intelligence against herself in the end by how she, like Jaehaerys, died in painful regret and denial. Hating her the color she herself chose to symbolize her grand endeavor and ambitions/faction and yet also wanting her daughter to murder the boy of the woman she chose to usurp. Go back to section A.

Conclusion

It's funny how you speak about how Rhaenyra brought all that happened to her herself (which is half right and half wrong)...yet neglect or don't know that Alicent is more responsible for her own end and losses. Those final moments with her, Corlys, Larys, and Aegon.

Alicent, like Rhaenyra, is an aristocratic woman looking for power for herself. Unfortunately, she also has some kind of lack of self-awareness of her actions and cherry-picking values that taint her judgment. And she, like Rhaenyra, was made to use the harm or death of a child, resulting in the loss of a capable person on their team. There is a thematic element of "madness" and "evil queen" for both women that get subverted. Alicent dying aggrieved and lost in hatred, Rhaenyra through her paranoia.

But Rhaenyra? Alicent and the greens had pushed her into a place where she lost most things all for the sake of ambition. Who pushed Alicent? Other than patriarchy (which all women must oppose and resist to some degree and some did, including Rhaenyra herself), what did Alicent really have to complain about? Rhaenyra explicitly states that she'd keep her kids alive if Aegon surrendered before any fighting started and Lucerys died. What exactly did Rhaenyra do to her? Meanwhile, I could list several things of the reverse before the usurpation! And the pattern of those things stems from Alicent's belief that she should use her son's patriarchal privilege to become the highest-ranking woman as well as make the Faith/Oldtown even more influential and prestigious than it already was.

Check out this post of an ask that summarizes a little better my points.

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

Karen Wheeler opened her front door on June twentieth, 1985 at approximately seven fifteen PM to find Joyce Byers and Billy Hargrove standing side-by-side on the stoop.

She offered Billy a little wink (one he did not respond to as he usually did) and a polite smile to her son’s best friend’s mom. Joyce was never a particularly handsome woman. Never pretty in a ladylike way. With her plain, dark hair that frizzed too much and her clothes that never fit kindly to her figure. And Karen didn’t know what to think of her most of the time.

“Hello—“

Joyce didn’t whisper, “Have you told your husband you’re trying to peruse a seventeen year old?” Billy opened his mouth as if he wished to add something, but closed it again shortly with a snap. He did not look up once.

Karen felt her heart plummet and her lungs stop taking in air, “What?” she croaked.

Joyce opened her small mouth again and—

“I mean—“ Karen held up her own hand and risked a glance around the door and at Ted staring blankly back in his chair with Holly. The television was playing one of her cartoons and she was distracted. But Ted, her husband looked as red as he did green and his eyes were wide as hockey pucks. Karen looked away and spoke again to Joyce, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joyce’s hands were shaking in fists. “I never liked you much, Mrs. Wheeler.” Karen turned her head away from them all, ashamed. “Not since what you said to my Jonathan after he began dating your daughter. You should be ashamed.”

Karen’s mouth wobbled and her throat went tight, “Please, Joyce, my kids are home.” Joyce Byers put her foot between the door and the doorframe when Karen went to close it.

“Good. They deserve to know what kind of side affairs you’re attempting.”

“I never went!” Karen exclaimed hysterically. “I knew—I know better.”

Ted’s voice suddenly drawled out from behind her, “Is this why you dug out that expired lipstick?”

Karen didn’t even turn around and she rubbed her temples, “How’d you even know it was expired. You can barely remember Nancy’s favorite color never mind anything about me.” Ted didn’t respond right away, too busy staring at Billy Hargrove and the way the boy was staring at his own boots as though he were worthless.

Karen suddenly stood straight and her eyes burned with hatred all around her. “Why are we even talking like this?” She pointed rashly at Billy, “He came onto me!” Joyce swept the boy behind her and waved someone forward that Karen couldn’t see.

Byers turned her tired and stoney eyes back on the other woman, “You have a comfortable, safe life here.” She pushed the front door back more into Karen’s shoulder. “You have three lovely children that need better role models. While, instead, you wast your time preening and pawning any willing pawn you can use to live your freakish fantasies. And you’re failing at this whole picture perfect family thing miserably. It’s as if you’ve stopped trying.”

“I—“

Joyce folded her shoulders back and rose her voice, “Is this the kind of example you want to set? Cheating on your family with a vulnerable seventeen year old boy? A boy the same age as your daughter? If the situation were different, would you blame your daughter?”

“No! Of course— He is capable of making his own decisions!”

“No!” Joyce swung a fist around like she was trying to hold back her urge to physically fight. “He isn’t even half your age, Karen. He’s a young boy looking for comfort! And you allowed him to think you were in his corner. And for Gods sake, his name is Billy. Use it.”

Ted was holding the back of his hand against his own mouth as though he were stopping himself from throwing up, “I can’t have you in the house right now, Karen.”

The woman looked up, eyes open and wet, “What?” she murmured.

Ted stepped away from her and glanced at Holly still glued to her series, “I can’t trust you anymore. I—I need you out. I can’t have you around the kids if you almost—“ He turned around and paced into the kitchen with his hand back to his mouth.

Karen watched as Steve Harrington (of all people) hugged Billy Hargrove on the front lawn. She noticed how Steve’s arms shrouded and protected like a blanket and shielded Billy’s view of the house Karen found herself losing control of. She saw tears fall from Billy Hargrove’s eyes and the way the boy shook like a leaf at the end of autumn.

Joyce Byers grabbed the handle of the door Karen still held onto and spat on the heels she had bought last week, “Go to hell.”