#someone else tell me is it looking good or bad

[steveseddie]

apply directly to the forehead

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: alone | rating: t | wc: 997 | tags: hurt comfort, steve has migraines, eddie takes care of him, hand holding, forehead kisses read on ao3

No one notices when Steve slips out the front door. No one but Eddie, who tells Jonathan he’s going out for a smoke and follows him.

There are only woods around the Hopper-Byers cabin, and the only light comes from the Christmas lights hanging from the roof so it takes a moment for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the near darkness. He sees Steve sitting on the steps with his head between his knees and taking slow, deep breaths. 

“Steve?” Eddie speaks softly, trying not to startle him but Steve still flinches. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbles, keeping his head down. 

Eddie sits next to him. “Wanna try again? That wasn’t very convincing.”

Steve groans but it’s not his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan, it’s a pained groan. 

“‘S just a headache, ‘m fine,” Steve insists but his voice sounds weak. 

“Look at me.” Eddie squeezes his knee. “Stevie, please, look at me.” 

Steve sighs but lifts his head. Eddie can’t help but wince at how he looks. His face is twisted into a grimace, his skin is paper-white and there are tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, Steve. It’s a migraine, isn’t it? A bad one?” He gently brushes some hair off Steve’s face. Steve gives a tiny nod. “When did it start?” 

“A few hours ago,” Steve says with a shuddery breath. “While shopping with Robin, all the lights, the music and the crowds–”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Steve shrugs, then winces. “Didn’t want to worry anyone.” 

“Of course not.” That’s why Steve still showed up to the Hopper-Byers Christmas party, knowing there would be loud music and even louder kids, and then forced himself to smile through his pain. Eddie sighs. “C’mon, I’m taking you home.” 

“No, Eds–” Steve protests weakly. “I can drive myself-”

Eddie huffs. “Steve, you can’t even keep your eyes open right now.”

“But the party–”

“–will carry on without us,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes. “Wait here, okay?” 

Steve sighs and nods, and Eddie squeezes his knee again before heading back inside. 

He finds Robin and tells her that Steve isn’t feeling well and he’s taking him home. 

“Do you want me to come?” She asks, worried.

“Nah, I got him,” Eddie says. Steve wouldn’t want someone else to leave the party early because of him. “Just tell Hopper I’ll pick up the van tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay, thanks, Eddie,” she says with a quick hug. 

Outside, Eddie finds Steve leaning against the railing, looking like he’s about to keel over. 

“Alright, big boy. Let’s get you home,” he says, leading them to the Beemer.

“No van?” 

“Nope. You complain about how fucking loud my van is on a good day. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate it today of all days.”

Steve chuckles weakly. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to drive a cool car for once.” 

Eddie scoffs indignantly. “My van is plenty cool, Harrington.” 

“Uh huh.” 

He sticks his tongue out at Steve and starts the car. The drive to his house is quiet. Eddie turns the radio all the way off, Steve keeps his head against the window and his eyes closed, and Eddie tries his best not to jostle the car too much. 

He has to gently shake Steve’s shoulder once they arrive and then he follows him inside. 

He goes straight to his bedroom and collapses on the bed, taking his shoes off but leaving his jeans and his ugly Christmas sweater on. 

Eddie finds some sleeping clothes and tosses them his way. “Take those jeans off, Harrington.”

Steve huffs. “At least buy me dinner first, Munson,” he says, his hands working on his belt buckle. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink but with just the moonlight illuminating the room through the curtains, he doubts Steve can see it. “So that’s what it takes to get into Steve Harrington’s pants?”

“Usually,” Steve says, shoving his jeans off before sliding on sweatpants, keeping his movements slow to not make his headache worse. “But for a guy as hot as you, I can make an exception.”

Eddie chokes on his spit. Leave it to Steve to flirt while his head is waging a war against the rest of him.  

After changing out of his Christmas sweater, Steve falls back into bed, burrowing his face into his pillow with a groan. The mattress dips when Eddie sits next to him, his back against the headboard. Steve blinks one eye open. “You don’t have to stay, I’m–”

“-in no condition to be alone right now,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes.

“You should go back to the party. I didn’t mean to ruin your night–”

“Steve Harrington called me hot. Nothing could ruin my night after that,” he jokes even if there’s some truth to it. 

Steve groans– this time it is his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan. “I’m gonna regret saying that.” 

“Because you didn’t mean it or–”

“Oh, I meant it,” Steve says, rolling to his side and looking up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes that might not have anything to do with his migraine. “But now you can hold it against me.”

“It would be kind of hypocritical of me since I also find you hot,” Eddie says, playing with a rip in his jeans. 

Steve’s fingers find his, intertwining them. “If my head wasn’t about to explode I would suggest we do something about that.”

Eddie’s widen. “Something like–”

“Like kissing. Though I could be persuaded to do other things.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says laughing shakily. “Now my head feels like it might explode.”

“We can talk in the morning,” Steve says, shifting until he finds a comfortable position. 

“Thought you didn’t want me to stay,” Eddie teases.

“Said you didn’t have to stay, Eds. I always want you here.” 

Eddie’s stomach flutters. “Okay,” he says, sliding down until he’s lying next to Steve, their fingers still intertwined. 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Steve whispers, half asleep already. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, kissing Steve’s forehead. “Anytime.”

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Leona Kingscholar - Nightmare Suit Vignette

"What makes a qualified king"

[Halloween Town – Town Hall]

Leona: You want to hear more about the Halloween we celebrate back home? We've already come up with enough ideas for you.

Jack Skellington: Well, you guys have so many fresh ideas. I want you to teach me everything you know, without skipping a thing.

Epel: Without skipping a thing… Hmm, was there anything else?

Epel: Oh yeah, don't the people in this town wear any costumes for Halloween?

Jack Skellington: Costumes?

Epel: Yes! We dress up like mummies, werewolves, vampires and other sorts of monsters to scare people.

Riddle: When it comes to scaring… I don't think any of that would be any different for the residents here.

Epel: Oh, right… Hmmm, I'm sorry, I can't think of anything better.

Jack Skellington: No, you're fine. Basically, you're saying that you dress differently than you normally do, right? That also sounds interesting.

Jack Skellington: Might not be too bad to have big ears, a tail, sharp fangs and claws to become a werewolf.

Epel: Jack-san… a werewolf?

Leona: Kekek, I can see that making things even more confusing.

Leona: Regardless, it's much too early to be talking about next Halloween.

Jack Skellington: Too early? Not at all.

Jack Skellington: Once this year's Halloween is over, we only have 364 days until next Halloween.

Riddle: Indeed. I agree in that it may not be too early. Even this time, we are all working on a tight schedule…

Riddle: If you were to create a rough plan now, there'll be more time for preparations next year.

Leona: I get what you're saying. But there's no saying whether our Halloween will even be successful.

Leona: We haven't even finished the prep for this coming Halloween.

Leona: I think it'd be best for us to give our brains and bodies a rest to make sure we can even prepare everything properly.

Jack Skellington: Yeah, it's important to take breaks. But once this Halloween is over, you guys are going back to your own world, right?

Jack Skellington: And during the day, we're all so busy with preparations. I want to hear all your stories while I can.

Leona: Your eagerness to learn is astounding. If that's the case, then there's someone else who can help you better.

Leona: Hey, Idia.

Idia: Eeek!? D-Don't just pan the camera over to me… Why me, anyway…?

Leona: "Why"? Well, obviously because you're the Housewarden of the dorm Ignihyde, which adheres to the diligent spirit of the Lord of the Underworld.

Jack Skellington: The Lord of the Underworld? That sounds fascinating. Idia-kun, tell me more.

Idia: T-T-T-Tell you more? More what? I mean, s-sure, I know all his lore, but I don't want to give a presentation, or anything…!

Epel: Right, since Jack-san is the King of Halloween… That means he'd be considered the Lord of this town, right?

Leona: You can't judge someone just by their title. A king is only as good as what actions they take.

Leona: Although I'm pretty interested in what exactly the King of Halloween is expected to do, too.

Jack Skellington: What I do? Well, of course, that's to make Halloween as frightening as possible.

Idia: I-I mean, since you're the King of Halloween, you just gotta hype up Halloween, right? I guess…

Riddle: In order to make Halloween as frightening as possible, what exactly do you do?

Jack Skellington: Let me think. I'd drive a cart…

Epel: You drive…?

Jack Skellington: Or take walks in the cemetery with Zero…

Idia: And walk your dog…?

Jack Skellington: And I'll also read, or do experiments.

Riddle: Reading is one thing, but what sort of experiments does one need to do on Halloween…?

Jack Skellington: And finally… It's also my job to look over the townsfolk's proposals that the mayor has gathered.

Leona: Ah, there we go, finally something that sounds appropriate.

Leona: But you're telling me that the king goes through everyone's proposals personally? I bet there's a more efficient way to do it.

Jack Skellington: No, not at all. I need to take everyone's ideas and bring them together to make the best Halloween ever.

Jack Skellington: Wait, yeah, that's it. The king is someone who can bring everyone together.

Epel: I see. So, that's why you're the King of Halloween.

Idia: Ugh… There's no way I'd ever be able to bring everyone together like that…

Riddle: I cannot allow you to wallow like that. It is a Housewarden's job to keep the students together.

Leona: Hey, now, Riddle, don't bully the guy. That's way too much to ask of that gloomy kid.

Leona: But, huh, never expected bringing everyone together to be considered what makes a qualified king here. Guess it's much easier to decide a king here in this town than in other places.

[Halloween Town – Center]

Mayor: Now, now, everyone work quickly! We must hurry to finish making all the decorations!

Jack Skellington: Mayor! I've brought all the finished decorations.

Mayor: Oho, these have been made splendidly! I'll get these up on the gate now.

Leona: …I thought I'd take a break around here, but it looks like I should look somewhere else.

Leona: I'm exhausted from all the troubles I've had to deal with. I can just leave the rest of the preparations to the townsfolk… Hm?

Grim: OUTTA THE WAY, GET OUT OF MY WAAAY!

1. Grim, stop! 2. Someone please catch him!

[Mayor's face changes to sad]

Jack Skellington: Mayor, look out!

Mayor: AAAAAAAA HE'S GONNA CRASH RIGHT INTO MEEEEE!!!!

Mayor: H-Huh…? I'm not hurt…

Grim: MYAAAAAH! DON'T PICK ME UP BY MY SCRUFFFF!

Leona: Shut up, stop fussing. Geez, it's just one thing after another with you.

Leona: What did this furball do this time?

1. He ruined a bunch of the decorations…

Leona: So, that's the reason why he's got so many things stuck in his fur after running away without looking where he was going, huh. Leona: There's spider webs, bat wings, and… is this a fish bone? How many decorations did you destroy?

2. He snuck a bunch of the candy…

Leona: There's a lot of crumbs all over Grim's face. …I understand what happened. Leona: You got caught stuffing your face, and just ran away without looking where you were going, huh.

Grim: Humph! Blame the decorations for being in the way!!

Jack Skellington: …

Grim: How dare all these things stick to my beautiful fur… I'll throw off all these weird decorations!!

Grim: HEY, LEONA, LET GO OF ME ALREADY!! LET GO, LET GO, LET GOOOOO!

Jack Skellington: GRAAAAAAAAAH!!

Grim: Eeep!?

Grim: I-I was just joking! And now that my tummy's happy, I'll totally help with the prep now!

Jack Skellington: Then make sure you put the decorations back where they came from. And apologize to everyone you caused problems for.

Grim: Fine…

Jack Skellington: Good. Halloween is right around the corner, you know.

Grim: His bones streeeetched, and he had such sharp teeth just now… That version of Jack was super scary.

Leona: Hey, [Yuu]. Go see Trey and Jamil right now, and tell them everything that happened.

Leona: Since it's those guys, I'm sure they already planned for any sort of possible trouble, but…

Leona: If Grim really did eat so much he's full, then there's no way we'll have enough to eat.

Leona: After you talk to them, do whatever Trey and Jamil tell you to. Got it?

1. I understand. 2. Yessir, right away!

Grim: Gweh!? Hey, [Yuu], don't you grab me by my scruff too!

[Grim and Yuu leave]

Leona: What's left is… Those decorations, huh.

Mayor: That's right. We need to finish decorating the gate as quickly as we can. I'll call the closest people and...

Leona: Hey, now, you planning on having everyone stand in a line and take turns going up and down the ladder to set everything up, or something?

Leona: Just have someone call over the witches.

Leona: These are all light. If they carry them up on their brooms and put up the decorations, it'll be over in less than 30 minutes.

Mayor: Eeeh!? But I'm having the witches do a different task.

Leona: Then have someone else do whatever it is they're doing. Halloween is right around the corner, right?

Leona: Do you all even have time to be lax about all this?

Leona: Pretty sure now's the time you want to start thinking about who should do what to get everything done in the shortest amount of time possible.

Jack Skellington: Yeah, I think you're right, Leona-kun. If we're looking for someone to trade jobs with the witches… I think that guy over there should work.

Jack Skellington: We'll tell the witches to come to the town center and have them do this task.

Mayor: We're going with what Leona-kun says, hm… Then, can I ask you to help on a few other things?

Mayor: You see, we're actually facing delays on this task and that one…

Leona: Haah… I just wanted to rest for a bit.

Leona: But it'd be bad if I just let it be and Halloween is a big failure, since I won't be able to go back home.

Leona: Fine. I'll just do a little bit more work, then.

[Mayor's face changes to glad]

[Halloween Town – Center]

[rabble, rabble]

Halloween Town Resident A: Jack, we've finished with our tasks.

Halloween Town Resident B: We're done, too. Oh, and it sounds like there'll be enough candy made in time, too.

Jack Skellington: That's great! Thanks, everyone.

Leona: …Looks like we somehow made it. Now all we can do is hope Halloween goes off without a hitch.

???: For my part, I apologize for all the troubles I caused.

Leona: Yeah, seriously. You can't possibly imagine the amount of extra work I had to do all because of your tantrum.

Skully: However, ever since you took charge, Leona-san, it seems as though all preparations were completed smoothly.

Skully: Vil-san looked over all the completed delicate needlework, and Idia-san provided so much help with difficult calculations…

Skully: I heard you took everyone's strengths and thoughtfully allocated tasks accordingly.

Leona: I didn't do nothing "thoughtfully." I just gave them stuff I didn't want to do.

Skully: Oh, you are most humble. Yes, even Trey-san and Jamil-san were especially thankful for your consideration.

Skully: Because you see, they were lacking in sweets in a greater number than Jamil-san had initially thought.

Skully: He said, if you had not sent [Yuu]-san to inform them…

Skully: We would have been forced to have a desolate Halloween without candy.

Leona: Heh, well, sorry for makin' him work harder, then.

Skully: …You keep a good eye on everything around you. Not only did you look after your schoolmates, but also the townsfolk.

Skully: You were able to get everyone to work together, despite only having met them only a few days ago… Your skill is a sight to behold.

Jack Skellington: That's right!

Skully: Jack-sama!

Jack Skellington: As everyone finished their tasks, they'd all report to me afterwards, you see.

Jack Skellington: When I told them everything was all thanks to Leona-kun's improvement efforts, everyone was so pleased.

Dr. Finkelstein: That's right. Leona's got quite the head on his shoulders. He's a rather capable young man.

Mayor: Absolutely. Whenever we consulted him, he'd always have an idea ready, and once we implemented it, it always went well.

Sally: It was amazing how he didn't even need to leave the town center, and could figure out the situation and give the right instructions right away…

Skully: He never lifted a finger, and yet he was able to expertly give commands… Heheh, sounds like Leona-san is a king to me.

Skully: Perhaps it could be said, then… That this Halloween came to be thanks to two great kings.

Jack Skellington: Yes, it's just as Skully-kun says. Because a king is someone who can bring everyone together.

Mayor: I agree, you guys are so skilled in keeping everyone on task!

Sally: Both of you have amazing leadership skills.

Dr. Finkelstein: Indeed, we've received great inspiration from all of your original ideas.

Skully: Isn't it amazing, Leona-san? Not only are you receiving high praise from the illustrious Jack-sama, but also from all those who admire him…

Leona: Well, whatever, thanks for all the accolades.

Leona: Just hearing all of you say all that is making me feel idiotic for even putting so much thought into everything.

Leona: If someone is recognized as a king by all those who need and admire them…

Leona: I guess that person really becomes their "king," then.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Lounge]

Savanaclaw Student A: And that's how we do Halloween at Night Raven College. That was epic!

Savanaclaw Student B: I had just as much fun prepping as I did enjoying the events. Man, I can't believe Halloween's over already.

Jack: What are those guys doing…? They should be getting ready for Spelldrive practice.

Ruggie: Guess they're just sufferin' from what we call the Halloween Blues. Y'see it every year. There's always freshmen who're burned out after.

Ruggie: I mean, I totally get the same "we did it!" feeling, sure. But if they keep lounging around like that…

Leona: Hey, you. How long do all of you plan to laze around?

Savanaclaw Student A/B: AH, HOUSEWARDEN LEONA!

Leona: It's almost time for Spelldrive practice to start… You guys must be feeling pretty good to not even be changed yet, huh.

Leona: If you've learned the applied magic needed to change your clothes right here, right now, why don't all you freshmen show me what you can do?

Savanaclaw Student A/B: S-Sorry! We'll go change right now and head towards the Spelldrive field!

Leona: Geez, they're just one pain after another…

Jack: They were all just laying around… But as soon as they saw Leona-senpai, they straightened right out.

Ruggie: Didja see how stiff they were when they shot up straight? …Well, I guess when a lion glares atcha, anyone'd fall in line.

Ruggie: See, that's why when Leona-san's around, everyone's at attention… It's like the whole dorm is in peak condition.

Ruggie: That's Leona-san, for ya. Our king is the best of the best!

Leona: What, I'm a king just 'cause I scolded some of our cubs? That's a pretty cheap price for a throne.

Leona: If you're gonna try to butter me up, try making a little more sense.

Jack: It's not just idle flattery. Just like Ruggie-senpai says, you're our…

Leona: Yeah, yeah, whatever, thanks.

Leona: …Leave the stupid chatter out of it. Time to head to the Spelldrive field.

Requested by @farfalla049 and @raven-at-the-writing-desk

[dammit-tazmuir]

@grievingbovine I am always happy to gush about Paul ;w;

Also I feel like... I'm not sure if it's more "codependency isn't always bad" or "codependency is a term we've grown to use too liberally when what should actually be the defining factor isn't the behaviors involved but whether or not those are actually hurting the people involved" or something in between or adjacent to that. It also feels like there might be kinda two definitions people use interchangeably? One being the more medical term and the other a looser thing of like, deeply dependent on each other.

But semantics aside I know what you mean, and yeah.

It is, generally speaking, unhealthy to be SO dependent on a SPECIFIC person that you can't live without them. Cam and Pal post-explosion had a very unique situation, whereas for most cases in real life, it's better to at least like... need SOMEONE, a purpose, a cause, but also be capable of seeking a new one if you lose that, after time to process and grief. A Camilla whose whole life revolved around Palamedes but didn't get him back learning to live again for Nona, as a hypothetical, or Harrow who would not let herself survive alone but can live for God and for Gideon and for Alecto and for the memory of those lost to conceive her and who may find other purposes still. Ofc no one is arguing Harrow is healthy about that, but like, if you CAN'T find an internal sense of worth, a purely external one is still infinitely better and healthier than none!

It feels very silly but a straight up life-changing thing for me as someone who does the same shit was the anime Gurren Lagann throwing around the phrase, "believe in the me who believes in you." Over time it morphed into "believe in the you that I believe in", and ultimately into having genuinely self-assurance, but taking even one or two of those steps is like... YEAH? Yeah! You know? External validation can be so meaningful and powerful, and isn't antithetical to internal by any means. If you can find it in even a handful of different sources, even better. A thing I try to tell people a lot when it comes to mental health too is you don't have to Get Better to get BETTER. It's not "you're unhealthy and must be fixed" or "you're 100% healthy in all ways". Less unhealthy and more functional than you were is amazing and to be celebrated actually!!!

But at the same time?

Ya know, no, I agree, I DON'T think it's a bad thing to need to NOT be ALONE. I understand the importance of being capable of surviving alone, at least long enough to seek new connections. And living for a person or cause is always easier than dying for them ("you could have lived for her, but you didn't know how"...), especially if you're living for their memory after they're gone, but people should try to do it anyway! But to just..... want to be devoted to someone? To thrive on supporting or caring for other people???

That's not what I'd call "toxic codependency", that's humans being a social species. Hell, that's looking at stories and seeing how many supporting characters are vital to helping a hero succeed and deciding "that sounds awesome actually! Not everyone needs to be the hero, I would love to be a supporting character!" Especially when you're not losing sight of your own needs in the process.

Like... Sacrifice and martyr mentality can be horrible destructive things that do more harm than good, but sacrifice is also objectively a major way people show love. Parents doing without a little more to make sure their kids get something nice, someone doing a chore they don't like because they know their partner hates it more, etc. The difference between "my needs aren't important, I'm not important, I'll always prioritize others because I don't take care of myself in general" and "I have weighed the pros and cons and decided that I can handle this and wish to put someone else first in this situation" is not always apparent from the outside but it's an extremely important distinction. There's a difference between being needlessly reckless and hard on yourself versus making a decision to achieve an end you want even though it costs you something.

Cam trying to hide how rough carrying Pal was on her wasn't her being needlessly reckless, it was her being a stubborn bitch who knows she's tough as hell. If anything people have more grounds to criticize her going against Pal's interests and wishes by not giving him information he needed to make properly informed decisions! To think that he was in any way taking advantage of her when she'd have found a way to kick his ass if he'd tried to force her to stop is wild lmao. (Not to mention Pal literally killing himself— he was still Around but objectively dead all the same!— in the "dying for someone is the cruelest thing you could do to them" book. Like he ain't making big sacrifices fueled by his love for and trust in her too smh.)

And honestly? Yeah that does sound like the kind of thing that could save the world. Our world would be a better place with less people striving to be main characters and more people eager to support each other. More people should be saying "No you will let me help you, you son of a bitch. Don't you dare tell me it's Too Much." >:( So many people are afraid of Being A Burden but more people need to understand— from the perspective of the person with that fear and as friends wishing to help someone who has that fear— that only the person offering help can decide what is A Burden to them! It's not the other person's decision to make!

Palamades didn't have a right to tell Camilla not to push herself to keep him around when that was her choice, and anyone fearing their loved ones sacrifice too much for them don't have a right to tell them to love them less, either. Sometimes— often, really— the alternative is worse. And part of me has to wonder if some people are averse to acknowledging that because if they did, then they'd have to acknowledge that letting someone else help you can be actively beneficial to them, and constantly refusing to ask for or accept help is in turn actively depriving them of something that would help them too. <.< Too bad everyone, gotta let people love you.

Locked tomb hot takes:

Insisting that the birth of Paul is only a tragedy because of the uneven power dynamics between Palamedes and Camilla as Necro and Cav invalidates Camillas autonomy and undermines her as a character capable of making her own decisions. It also undermines Palamedes constantly checking for consent. He understands more than most that there is an uneven power dynamic and actively works to respect her autonomy as much as he can while also respecting their bond/positions as necro and cav.

In a world where those who identify as men have no natural power over those who identify as women or neither, we can not apply the same cisheteronormative expectations of male behavior to male characters.

Camilla made every. Single. Choice. Willingly. She had reasons for it, and Palamedes respected that more than readers seem to. We get plenty of examples.

"What would you do if you discovered Camilla was a murderer?”

“Help her bury the body,” said Palamedes promptly.

“Sextus.”

“I mean it. If Camilla wants someone dead,” he said, “then far be it from me to stand in her way. All I can do at that point is watch the bloodshed and look for a mop. One flesh, one end, and all that.”

GtN chapter 30

NtN chapter 17

The relationship between these two may be codependent, but it's predicated on trust and consent. The whole way through. This is the life Cam wants to live. Becoming Paul was what *she wanted*.

I find it strange that some people think they know what's best for her more than she does, just because she's a cavalier.

[muwapsturniolo]

Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 9

Hey guys! Only one chapter of this one this week, I promise. But it's the chapter. The best chapter.

Eddie comes home! And Steve gets help in the kitchen.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

~

Eddie insisted on having a cook come in and make dinner three times a week. That included Steve’s day off, so he would be cooking for most of their meals but that he would have help on those three days.

Steve disregarded professional chefs right off the bat. Eddie didn’t need to pay some big named star to make mediocre food for the girls. And would have stuck to that if the best candidate wasn’t a French Culinary school graduate with having owned two Michelin star restaurants.

His name was Benny Hammond and he was retired. He just wanted something fun to do in his spare time. Steve talked about what the girls liked, what recipes he had and when Eddie would be home.

“I haven’t cooked for kids in ages,” he said with a grin. “That sounds like a fun challenge. Count me in!”

Just after one week with Benny making all the meals, Eddie cackled an ‘I told you so!’ on his evening call with the girls.

“I didn’t realize how much energy all the cooking was taking until I had a day without doing it,” Steve whined.

“He made us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup,” Joan said brightly. “It was nummy, Daddy.”

“And the soup didn’t even come in a can!” Janice crowed. “Not even the tomatoes.”

“It was better than how I make it,” Steve grumbled into Joan’s hair.

But Eddie caught it anyway. “Sounds like someone was right. So what do we say, Stevie?”

Steve wanted to pout but that would set a really bad example for the girls so he straightened up and sighed. “Thank you Eddie. Benny was the final piece of the puzzle we all needed to for a well run household.”

“Good!” Eddie said brightly. “I have some news. It’s bad news for the band, but good news for everyone else.”

Both girls perked up and started talking over each other as they tried to guess what it was.

“Joanie! Janie!” Eddie barked from the tablet Steve was holding. “If you’ll let me talk, I’ll be able to tell you.” Once both girls had settled, Eddie cleared his throat. “Thanks to a major hurricane, the last two shows have been combined into one big fundraiser for the towns devastated by the storm.”

“I heard about that on the news,” Steve said with a nod. “I’m sorry the tour has to wrap up early, though. I know you were really looking forward to playing in Ashville.”

“It is what it is,” Eddie said resigned. “But all proceeds will go to disaster relief so some good will come out of it.”

“Well, that’s good,” Steve murmured. “I’ve got to get these little munchkin to their bath, but I guess we’ll see you on Saturday.”

“So you will,” Eddie replied warmly. “Good night, girlies!”

“Night, Daddy!” Janice and Joan chorused. Then they clambered off Steve’s lap and tore off for their bedroom.

Steve turned off the app and laid the tablet down with a sigh. It was a good thing that Eddie was coming home. He just felt conflicted about how soon it was now. He thought he would have more to get his emotions under control.

~

Janice and Joan wanted to dress up really nice for their dad so Steve helped them pick out their outfits.

Janice had completely surprised Steve when she pulled out a pretty plaid skirt and a white blouse. She was such a tomboy most of the time, that he wasn’t even aware she had skirts and dresses in her closet.

Joan wore a matching plaid jumper dress with a similar style in blouse. They even had matching black Mary Jane shoes.

Steve had never seen them look more like twins in the whole time he had known them. They even asked him for matching French braid pigtails.

Janice and Joan sat in front of the window, anxiously waiting for the Uber that would be dropping their dad off so they could see him in person for the first time in months. Steve had originally tried to distract them from the ever present ticking clock, but gave up about an hour in.

They were just too keyed up.

Then an unknown silver SUV pulled up to the house and out Eddie popped. The girls started screaming and jumping up and down.

“Girls go get your signs!” Steve said brightly and they ran off to grab the signs they had made yesterday.

The door opened to a very bedraggled Eddie and the second he saw his girls with matching outfits and cute little signs saying Welcome Home, he dropped to his knees. He threw open his arms and both girls dogpiled him.

There were tears flowing down all three of their faces. Eddie picked them both up and walked toward the sofa, then he carefully lowered himself onto its surface.

Steve just smiled and walked away.

He made his way to the kitchen where Benny was slaving away at marvelous homecoming meal. Steve leaned up against the doorway and watched as the large chef chopped away at some vegetables. His skill was always fun to watch.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed in the kitchen when I work,” Benny said without turning around.

Steve huffed out a breathy laugh. “I’m following your rule, you grumpy old man. I’m not in the kitchen.”

Benny turned around and sniffed. “Close enough.” He looked up at the clock. “Shouldn’t the master of the house be home by now.” He waved to a bar stool for Steve to take a seat.

“He’s here,” Steve said, sitting down. “But I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s the kind of man that likes crying in front of other adults. Especially ones he doesn’t know well.”

Benny stopped for a moment and then nodded, going back to his chopping. “That’s fair. You’re like me, when things get too emotional, we come to kitchen to work out those emotions.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding back. “I love having you here. It makes taking care of the girls so much easier...”

“But sometimes you wish that you can just come into the kitchen and make something?” Benny finished. “Next time you feel that way, let me know and I’ll teach you a technique or a new recipe, all right?”

“Thanks, Benny.”

After a few minutes of contented silence Benny spoke, “You should probably go check on them and makes sure they’re alive enough to eat my dinner.”

Steve laughed, slapping a hand the counter and getting up. “You got it.”

He wandered back to the front room but no one was there. Steve frowned and went to Eddie’s office, but they weren’t there either. He put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. Where could they have gone?

He tapped his lips thoughtfully and the darted up the stairs, taking them at two at a time. He reached the top in no time at all and sure enough he could hear giggling. With a sigh of relief he walked to the girls’ room and pushed open the partially closed door.

Joan had decorated Eddie’s hair with ribbons while Janice read “Opposites” to him in a very serious tone.

Steve couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter when he saw the absolutely besotted expression on Eddie’s face.

Eddie looked up in shock and then when he saw who it was, he grinned. “Do I look pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Steve confirmed, moving further into the room. “Benny sent me in search of everyone because dinner is almost ready.”

Eddie’s face really lit up. “Ooh. He asked me what my favorite dish was and is making it for me. I’m really excited to see what a Michelin chef can do with poor people food.”

The girls both made faces and Steve gave them a look. “Remember when you went to Maria’s birthday party and the cake was carrot and you didn’t like it?”

Both girls nodded and Eddie looked suddenly interested in the new lesson they learned. “What’s this?” he asked gleefully.

“When it’s someone else’s day,” Joan said, “they can have whatever they want for their party.” She scuffed her shoe on the carpet. “So since it’s Daddy’s homecoming day, he can have whatever he wants.”

Eddie cackled in satisfaction. “Yes, girls that is a very important lesson to learn. It’s hardly my fault you inherited your Papa’s palate. I like it and so we are going to have it for dinner.”

“I’ve seen it,” Steve said, barely concealing a smile. “It looks fantastic. I can’t wait to try it.” He bent down to the girls’ level. “Remember the three bite rule. You take three regular sized bites and if you don’t like it, you can have something else.”

Joan nodded solemnly but Janice’s face as twisted up in distaste. Steve just shook his head. “Go wash your hands, girls and then join us at the dinner table.”

Both girls were off with a flash and Steve held out his hand to help Eddie to his feet. Once on his feet Eddie flashed him a broad smile that really showed off those dimples. He looked...cute.

Just then the door to the girls’ bathroom burst open and Steve dropped Eddie’s hand. Not quick or harsh. Just a simple act of letting go.

“I’ll race you to the table!” Eddie crowed, ducking around Steve.

Both girls squealed in delight and they were off like a shot, tearing down the stairs like a herd of elephants being told that it was peanut time.

Steve followed more slowly behind just soaking up how happy the girls were that their dad was home at last. The trip had clearly done Eddie good. He had color in his cheeks and his shoulders were no longer up around his ears, like dog expecting to be hit. Time away from the girls really helped him out.

“Come sit by me!” Joan cried when he entered the dinning room. She patted the spot between her and across from Eddie.

Eddie lit up at that and grinned at Steve. “Looks like you’re stuck with us now, Stevie boy! Once Joanie’s got her hooks in ya, you can’t leave.”

Steve smiled and shook his head fondly. “That would imply that I would want to leave in the first place.” He bopped Joan’s nose and she giggled. “And that would never happen ever!”

Just then Benny came in hold a large casserole dish. It had tatter tots covered with cheese and it just smelled heavenly. Benny set it on the table and began serving them. Inside was fresh peas and carrots and shredded beef in a mushroom sauce, gently seasoned with herbs and spices. Steve couldn’t wait to dig in.

Eddie was served first and he bit into that first bite. The moan of pleasure that escaped his lips, caused Steve’s eyes to roll back and flutter shut as he tried to think of very gross things to keep his embarrassing erection to a minimum.

“Benny!” Eddie cried. “This is amazing! You really out did yourself.” He grabbed the spoon from the dish and brandished it at Steve and the twins. “Mine! All for me!”

Steve laughed and then took a bite of his own and his eyes snapped up. “Sorry girls, but it appears I’m going to have duel your dad for the rest of this casserole.”

“Betrayed!” Eddie said, clutching the spoon to him. Suddenly he got a wicked gleam in his eye and he licked the spoon.

“Ewww...” Janice crowed.

“Gross!” Joan agreed.

Steve just shook his head and turned back to his meal. He wasn’t going to do something in front of the girls, because it would be the wrong lesson to teach, but he was highly tempted to grab the spoon and lick another stripe right next to Eddie’s. But for now he would bide his time.

The two girls managed to eat about half before declaring they wanted something else. So Benny took them into the kitchen to fix them something they would eat.

Steve leaned over and whispered, “Jokes on you, I’m a nanny, a little spit won’t deter me from what I want.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he shoved his hair in front of his face to hide his blush as Steve helped himself to another spoonful of the casserole.

Steve ate in smug silence as Eddie took a moment to come back online. He cleared his throat a couple of times but didn’t dare speak.

Once Steve had eaten his fill, he picked up the girls’ dishes and piled them on his plate. He stood up but before turning away to take the dishes into the kitchen, he said softly. “I’m glad you’re home too.”

Eddie looked up at him in awe and nodded. “It’s good to be home, Stevie. It’s so good to be home.”

Steve smiled and walked away.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 108: Fear

Don't get me wrong, that panel with Twilight remembering his friends was beautiful. I think he feels nostalgic for that connection with other people. However, I think what really caught my attention in this chapter was Melinda.

Come on, look at this:

Look at this face of terror. And she was just remembering her husband's eyes!

A long time ago, when we just met Melinda, I wrote this theory about her being afraid of her husband. Today, it was finally confirmed.

I feel so sad for her. Melinda has probably been carrying this alone for a long time. I doubt she's shared her fears with any friends or family members because, who would believe the illustrious political leader could be an abusive man? This is especially true if there's no actual physical violence in the relationship. However, like I said before, violence is more than that.

Something tells me that the violence in their relationship is mostly psychological. Donovan Desmond uses his authority to tell Melinda what to do, to create fear, to keep her away from their children.

Melinda appears as such a composed woman who has her life together in front of others, and only someone as emotionally perceptive and caring as Yor would notice something is wrong. There's a shame component in abusive relationships: "How did this happen to me? I used to be so strong and brave," combined with disbelief: "Am I overreacting? Is he really that bad? Why am I afraid of him if he hasn't really done anything to me?"

Hopefully, in time, Melinda will realize that fear is not only her responsibility; even if her husband wasn't physically abusive, his behavior caused her fear.

Without a doubt is a complicated issue, which brings me to something that will probably complicate things even more:

Yup, Twilight.

I'll admit that this is the first time that I felt very uncomfortable with what Twilight is about to do, but that's exactly the point. Good fiction/literature is suppose to move something within us, even if at times, it makes us feel uncomfortable.

You probably imagine why: Melinda is a person in dire need of therapy. She deserves (and needs!) a true professional and instead, she getting someone who is only trying to gather information.

HOWEVER...

Time and again, Twilight has shown that despite his line of work, he'll always try to do the right thing and the least amount of harm. So, I'm hoping he will apply that in this specific situation. My guess is that it will start as a way to get information (his classic "for the mission") but then, as Melinda opens up, he will actually give her good advice and hopefully empower her, as a real therapist would do!

Something else to keep in mind is that Melinda story of domestic violence could trigger Twilight himself in some way, given his own family history. We will have to wait to see how that goes.

Bonus

A final note on Melinda's beliefs in occultism: it makes sense.

I won't comment too much on the specific meaning of the cards because my knowledge is limited and I'm skeptical about that. But I will say that it makes sense that someone with so much fear and uncertainty in her life would believe in something that would bring her reassurance that everything will be okay or try to know the future in order to protect herself. (I really want to give Melinda a hug.)

On the other hand, you know who doesn't believe in that?:

Yup, our dear Becky, who is one of the most authentic character in sxf, who is protected and loved by her parents and Martha. That makes sense too.

[bloomzone]

2025: #5 CONFIDENCE ISN'T GIVEN

You’re not born confident. Confidence is forged. It’s earned when you decide—and I mean decide—to stop caring about what people think. You want to know why you don’t feel confident? It’s because you’ve spent your whole life chasing validation. You want people to like you. You want people to approve of you. You’re scared someone might have something bad to say about you. But FOR REAL nobody cares as much as you think they do. They’re too busy worrying about their own STOP GIVING SHIT

..✒️So why are you holding yourself back? Why are you giving other people the power to control how you see yourself? Let me tell you something—if you keep waiting for someone to tell you you’re good enough, you’ll be waiting forever. Confidence starts the moment you stop asking for permission to be yourself. You’ve got to walk into every room like you own it, even if you feel like a fraud. You think everyone who looks confident actually is? Hell no. They’re just better at pretending. And guess what? The more you pretend, the more real it becomes.

HOW TO BUILD CONFIDENCE

Own Your Flaws Let’s get this straight—confidence isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being real. Stop trying to hide the parts of yourself you don’t like. Everyone has insecurities. Everyone has doubts. But the difference between confident people and insecure people? Confident people say, “Yeah, I’ve got flaws. So what?” They own it. They wear their imperfections like armor.You’ve got to stop being afraid of judgment. You think your flaws are holding you back, but the truth is, it’s your fear of them that’s holding you back. Confidence isn’t about eliminating insecurities cuz we allllll have ones it’s about walking into a room and saying, “Here I am, take it or leave it.”

Get Uncomfortable You know what kills confidence? Comfort zones. You’ve built this little bubble around yourself, and you’re too scared to step out of it. You avoid challenges. You avoid risks. And then you wonder why you don’t feel confident. Confidence grows when you do hard things. When you push yourself. When you fail and get back up. You’ve got to start chasing discomfort like your life depends on it—because it does.Start small if you have to, but start. Speak up in a meeting. Wear the outfit you’re scared people will judge. Say no when you mean no. Every time you push through fear, you prove to yourself that you’re stronger than you think. And that’s where confidence comes from—action, not thinking about it, not talking about it.

Stop Comparing Comparison is the thief of confidence. You’re scrolling through social media, looking at people who seem like they have it all together, and you’re sitting there feeling like trash. Let me tell you something—nobody’s posting their failures. Nobody’s showing you their breakdowns. Stop comparing your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel.You don’t need to be like them. You don’t need to have what they have. What you need is to look in the mirror and realize you’re the damn prize. You’ve got your own path, your own strengths, your own story. Own it. Stop trying to fit into someone else’s mold.

Take Care of Yourself and Let’s be real .. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re sending a message to the world—and to yourself—that you don’t value you. You want to feel confident? Start showing up for yourself. Eat like you care about your body. Move like you want to be strong. Dress like you give a damn. When you look good, you feel good. And when you feel good, you carry yourself differently. That’s not shallow—it’s self-respect.

Talk to Yourself Like You Matter You’re your own worst critic. You say things to yourself you’d never say to someone else. “I’m not good enough.” “I’m so stupid.” “I’ll never be as good as them.” Stop. Stop talking to yourself like you’re worthless. Start hyping yourself up like you’re your own biggest fan. Look in the mirror and say, “I’ve got this. I’m unstoppable. I’m the one they need to watch out for.” It feels weird at first, but fake it until it’s real.

CONFIDENCE IS A MINDSET

Confidence isn’t about never doubting yourself LET ME EXPLAIN .. It’s about showing up in spite of the doubt. It’s about walking into every situation and saying, “I might not have all the answers, but I belong here.”

Stop overthinking. Stop waiting for permission. Stop letting fear dictate your life. People will always have something to say—'That hairstyle doesn’t suit you,' 'Why are you wearing that?' Who cares? Their opinions don’t define you. You like it? That’s all that matters. Stop living for their approval and start living for yourself.You’ve got everything you need to be confident—you just have to decide to use it. So, stop sitting on the sidelines of your own life. Get up. Take action. Be bold. Be loud. Be unapologetically you.

the world doesn’t need another copy. It needs you. And if you’re too scared to show up as yourself, you’re robbing the world of something incredible. Confidence isn’t given—it’s taken. So, take it. !

@bloomzone 📇

[beuxwhoyouare]

Getting Away with It

I almost got away with it. Truthfully, I didn't even know I would go as far as taking him out. But I mean he had it coming, I heard all the horrible things he had done that I could hear through the penthouse walls in the building I worked in. All the times he'd abuse a partner, slur people in the halls, not to mention act like he was a god because he made good money in sales or whatever.

He crossed a line one day, as I saw him nudge someone into the street nearly getting them hit by a bus. So sure was it right to take him out? Maybe not, but did I feel good taking one bad person off the streets...absolutely. Unfortunately, what I did was caught on camera and the legal system takes that narrative with no context and runs with it.

So I mean yeah I almost got away with a drastic good deed. But now I'm here on a life sentence for murder. I like routine in my day and in here the days are so regimented it's not exactly the kind of routine I find myself a fan of. I remained on good behaviour until the guards took pity on me and recommended me for supervised community service aid. Basically, still in jail but instead of working a job in jail, I could go out and help them clean garbage off the side of the road with parolees on the outside and random others doing a "good deed."

That's where I met Jacob. He was on parole for driving while intoxicated. Truthfully, I find that way worse than what I did. Like that feels so selfish...getting behind the wheel while drunk. Despicable. But clearly it's been the catalyst for him to turn his life around. He was in jail for a year and been on parole ever since. He started working out in jail while getting certified as a trainer. There aren't alot of jobs life after lockup that don't discriminate against you for your record so it makes sense that he'd want to do something where you can be your own boss.

We were in the van being taken to the stretch of highway in between developing parts of the city. It's crazy how looking north and south you can see parts of town and smack in the middle there's this road with tall weeds and shrubbery lining it. We were joined by a class of university student volunteers who were advised to keep their distance from us. Something we all sort of ignored since there's so much trash to pick up.

"Hey Lu, I gotta show you this thing this crazy old hippie gave me back in town." Jacob quietly told me as we scoured the brush for bottles.

"Dude we have things to do and I don't really want them to take me off this shift." I begrudgingly replied.

"Nah nah the guards aren't even looking at us they're flirting with the female students over there."

Sure enough our bozo headed guards were chatting it up with some girls that were supposed to be helping us. That's when I glanced over and saw Jacob holding what looked like an antiqued golden coin or rounded stone with a symbol scratched into it.

"The dude gave it to me in a box and said if you hold it in your hand and then make skin-to-skin contact with someone else you like transfer consciousness."

"So I see life on the outside is just as crazy as it is in here."

"You mean to tell me you don't even think it could be a little bit true? C'mon bro this could be your chance to get out out of jail. Shit if you don't try it I might as well. I'm tired of all these probationary restrictions. I just wanna hit restart."

"You're already out. It can't be that bad?" I said as I turned around to see him sneakily hurrying off towards one of the college students.

"Shit what is he doing."

I rushed over to where Jacob was and pulled him by the loops of his jeans to not cause a scene. Stopping straight next to one of the students picking up trash a little bit away from his group.

"Dude I don't know what you're aiming to do but if it doesn't work you're the one that's going to look like the insane paroled convict with an ambiguous item in his hand that could be misconstrued as a weapon."

"Listen, if it works it works, but if it doesn't there's no harm no foul and we can call it all a joke."

Before I could even protest, Jacob turned on his confident charisma to whistle over the nearby student. As the curious student walked closer I could hear the narrative Jacob was intricately weaving pretending to care about what he was studying and if he could tell us both more about it.

"I'm so sorry kid, I didn't even catch your name. I'm Jacob and this is Lu." he said with a devlish smile.

"I'm Mark." he said with a slight hesitance.

"Well Mark you shared so much with me can I share something with you? A party game you can take with you to your friends back at school?"

"Uh sure yeah."

"So you find a smaller coin or stone and one person places their hand on the bottom of it and the other on top. The person with their hand on the bottom has to try to and tap the person with their hand on top without flinching"

These rules made absolutely no sense and why would they Jacob's plan was himbo incarnate. Like it was so dim I could see Mark tense up and begin to shift away back towards his friends. He tried to say goodbye to Jacob but that's when I saw this crazed energy flood Jacob's eyes. The next things that happened felt like a blur in slow motion.

Mark turned around to return to his classmates with haste. Jacob quickly began following without running to not alert the guards yet shouting for him to wait up because it's all good fun. And before I knew it I took off running to stop Jacob from taking advantage of an innocent person.

Jacob leaped at Mark and tackled him to the ground but it's only the moment when I got there to break it up did the guards finally notice what was going on, rushing over.

He pulled the stone out and tried to grasp at Marks leg under his wider legged jean, while I reach out to stop that hand. THEN BAM. Everything became darker and several flashes of light happened.

When I came to the guards were pulling me up. I heard what I thought was Mark's voice saying the one in the jumpsuit attacked him. But I didn't run after him? As things pulled back into focus for my eyes after the darkened haze. I saw Mark being calmed down by a professor and a guard but then I saw who he was point at.....I was my body but I was to the other side.....

My body turned to me matching my confused expression and began crying hysterically asking what was going on. I looked down and saw the confirmation of what happened. I was wearing Jacob's clothing. And if my body's surprised too....then that means....God no!

The guards rangled up the convicts and put them all shackled back onto the van as another came to apologize to the university professor and her class along with "Mark". Another guard came up to me saying he knows that Lu is a murderer and that I didn't start any of this so I was getting a slap on the wrist, especially after "Mark" insisted I tried to stop the attack. The guards left and told the rest of us we could go.

The student approached me with that same devilish smile I recognized from before. His voice coming out unfamiliar in sound but with an all too familiar malice.

"Hey thank you again from saving me from that gruesome murderer mister. I didn't even catch your name. I'm Mark." he said with a wink.

"Jacob what the fuck are you doing?" I frantically asked.

"I'm giving you a way to get away with it all and me a clean start. But I gotta go back to school so here take my number down." the imposter student airdropped his details to me before scurrying away.

I was still in shock from everything that just happened. Like this cannot be real how the hell is this happening. Where do I go okay I can do this. I fumbled through my wallet as I searched for an address to head to. Eventually I made my way to Jacob's place. It was a hotel that was turned into extended stay studio.

I walked into the foreign "home" that was now all mine. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. This can't be happening that poor kid is now in jail. Oh god....wait. I'm not on the run why am I this stressed. Think think how do I fix this. An exercise ball peaked out from the side of the bed. My new athletic stature made me think maybe catering to it's physical senses could help me breath and calm down.

I did a few crunches but still felt a pang of guilt hitting my stomach. Oh god I need to fix this but where is the coin? I can't leave that kid incarcerated, that's robbing him of his whole life. Almost like clockwork my new phone buzzed with a text.

"Hey. Thanks again for saving me stud." the unknown number made itself known with that context.

"Jacob we need to fix this. That poor kid doesn't deserve this."

"Who's Jacob? This is Mark! And I think I deserve all the opportunity I've worked hard to get. Hey by any chance have bodily urges hit you? I'm not gay but after the incident when I saw you I got realllll hard all of sudden. I think this kid's gay or something."

I was furious reading these texts still skirting responsibility.

"Enough! Where are you we have to talk this is ridiculous."

The phone buzzed as I opened to see a location pin as a picture came in...my jaw dropped.

"Oh you wanna meet irl daddy? Come on over."

I stormed over to the location of the pin…I’m not going to let him get away with this.

[thedemoninme141]

Not a bad Christmas (set in the "Not a bad day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday ended up as your "Secret Santa".

Theme: FLUFF!

Parings: Wednesday Addams & Female Reader Wordcount: 5.8k. Set in the "before dating" period

Warnings: JealousWednesday!!! Cringe Fluff?

(A/n: I know the next chapter was supposed to be in "after dating" period but I felt like it would be better in "before dating" period.)

“I am SO excited!” Enid declared, her voice loud enough to draw glances from neighboring tables. She didn’t care. "You guys, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment."

"For breakfast?" Yoko asked dryly, sipping her coffee.

"No, for this!"Enid gestured dramatically, nearly knocking over her juice. "The Christmas party! You all know Principal Weems put me in charge this year, right?"

"You’ve mentioned it," Bianca said with sarcasm. "Maybe only a hundred times."

Eugene adjusted his glasses, looking genuinely intrigued. "What’s the big deal about this year's Christmas party?"

"Eugene, it’s not just a big deal. It’s the biggest deal!" Enid leaned in, her voice dropping as she whispered "I pitched an idea to Principal Weems that is going to make this the most amazing, unforgettable Christmas party ever!"

"What’s the idea?" Eugene asked,

"I’m not telling!" Enid sing-songed. "It’s a surprise! Weems might even announce it today."

“If it’s not as groundbreaking as you’re hyping it up to be, we’re going to riot.” Bianca said dryly.

“I can handle the pressure!” Enid declared, “I was born for this. And besides, Christmas is my favorite holiday. It’s sparkly and cheerful, and everyone gets to come together! It’s the one time of year people have no excuse to be grumpy.”

Wednesday’s dark gaze flicked to Enid, a sarcastic remark brewing on her tongue. However, she bit it back, opting instead for a slow sip of coffee. Grumpy? She could name a dozen reasons why grumpiness was not only justified but necessary—especially during a holiday that encouraged excessive sentimentality. She glanced sideways at you, seated just beside Enid, you looked intrigued. Great.

She didn’t need her visions to predict that whatever Enid had in store would be an exercise in torture for her, and likely for everyone else. She hoped she would be able to ignore it, maybe stay locked in her room during Christmas but then, there was you... who just glanced back at her, giving a warm smile.

Wednesday quickly looked away, back at her food... oh wait she was done eating.

Why did you smile at her like that? Why did her heart just skip a beat? Why did her stomach twist into knots at your smile?

“Wednesday!” Enid’s voice cutting through her reverie.

“What?”

“I said, aren’t you so excited for the announcement?” Enid beamed at her, completely oblivious to Wednesday’s growing annoyance.

“Thrilled,” Wednesday deadpanned, “Nothing brings me more joy than waiting for yet another banal attempt at forced merriment.”

Enid pouted. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. This is going to be so fun! Right?” She nudged you with her elbow, seeking validation.

You chuckled softly, nodding. “It’ll be fun, Enid. I’m sure whatever you’ve planned is going to blow everyone away.”

“See? At least someone believes in- Oh, Weems is here!"

The din of student conversation gradually quieted as Weems stepped into the center of the quad, her presence commanding attention.

"Good morning, everyone," Weems began, her voice clear and authoritative. "As you all know, the holiday season is upon us. This year, we aim to celebrate with a bit more… normalcy, after last year’s unfortunate events." Her eyes flicked briefly toward Wednesday, who met her gaze with a defiant smirk. Unfortunate? Maybe. Enjoyable? Yes.

Weems cleared her throat. "To that end, I’m pleased to announce a new tradition for our Nevermore Christmas celebration: a Secret Santa gift exchange!"

The announcement was met with a collective groan from the students.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Yoko muttered. "Ugh, I hate shopping for other people," Bianca complained

"What if we just… don’t do it?" someone called out from another table.

Weems’ smile tightened, her patience visibly waning. "Participation is mandatory. Each student will draw a name at random later today and will be expected to provide a thoughtful, appropriate gift."

"This is absurd," Wednesday declared, her tone icy. "Forcing us to partake in such a vacuous activity only reinforces the notion that conformity is more valued than individuality."

"Oh, come on, Wednesday," Enid said, her excitement undiminished. "It’ll be fun! You might get something you like."

"Doubtful," Wednesday retorted. "Unless my Secret Santa has access to poison or medieval torture devices or a collection of preserved organs or..."

Your giggle interrupted her, earning a sharp glance from Wednesday. "You know, it’s not that bad," you said, leaning slightly toward her. "Maybe you’ll get something one of those things."

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. "Hightly unlikely"

Enid, meanwhile, was practically bouncing in her seat. "I can’t wait to see who I get! This is going to be amazing!"

"Amazing for you," Bianca said dryly. "For the rest of us? Not so much."

Weems raised her hand for silence. "That will be all for now. The details of the exchange will be posted later today. I trust you all will approach this with the spirit of the season in mind." Wednesday wants to summon a sprit to haunt that excuse of a principal.

With that, Weems turned and strode away, leaving the quad to devolve once more into hushed complaints and reluctant acceptance. Enid turned to you, her eyes sparkling.

"This is going to be SO GREAT!" she said, grabbing your arm. "I already have, like, a million gift ideas. What about you? Are you excited?"

You smiled, glancing briefly at Wednesday, whose scowl had deepened even more as if that was even possible. "I think it’ll be… interesting."

"Interesting?" Enid repeated. "It’ll be fantastic! Secret Santa could be a good bonding activity.” Enid said, her chipper tone grating against Wednesday’s mood.

“I’d rather bond with a guillotine,” Wednesday muttered as the group started gathering their things for class. Enid, still beaming with unrelenting excitement about the Secret Santa announcement, latched onto Wednesday’s arm, chattering nonstop about potential gift ideas and how this year’s Christmas party would outshine any before it. Wednesday, for her part, thought about finding whoever this Santa Claus is and putting an end to him.

Entering the classroom, Wednesday took her usual seat and Enid plopped into the chair beside her. You were just a few seats ahead, settling into your spot. The seat next to you, tantalizingly empty…

Nate? Nick? or whatever his forgettable name was appeared in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the empty seat beside you. He brightened instantly, taking a step forward as though he were about to claim it.

Then his gaze shifted to Wednesday.

Wednesday’s expression remained perfectly neutral, except for the sharp, unmistakable intensity in her dark eyes. She didn’t flinch, didn’t speak. She simply stared at him.

The boy froze mid-step, his face paling. His eyes flicked to the faint burns on his hand, still healing from the “accidental” cocoa incident at the ugly sweater party.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel and fast-walking to a corner seat as far away from Wednesday as possible.

The scene would’ve pleased Wednesday had it not been for the way you glanced back at her, curious and faintly confused. She quickly diverted her gaze, feigning interest in the carved graffiti on her desk.

Moments later, Bianca came in. Her eyes immediately landed on the empty seat beside you. She started walking toward it, only to pause midway. Instead of sitting there, she veered toward Enid and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Enid,” Bianca said smoothly “mind switching seats with me?”

Enid’s face lit up. “Of course! You can sit here! I can sit next to Y/N!” She began gathering her things without hesitation, practically skipping to the seat beside you.

Bianca slid into Enid’s vacated spot,

“You are not wanted here,” Wednesday said icily, her tone as sharp as a blade.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Relax, Addams. I’m not here for your sparkling personality. I just figured sitting here was safer.”

“Safer? Why would sitting beside "me" would be safer?” Wednesday’s tone turned even colder.

Bianca smirked. “Please, as if we haven’t noticed how you practically plot murders in your head for anyone who gets too close to Y/N.”

Wednesday’s spine straightened, her glare intensifying. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, spare me the denial,” Bianca said dismissively. “Enid is safe from your wrath because, well… she’s Enid. But me? Let’s just say I care too much about my life to be a victim of your jealousy.”

“I am not jealous,” Wednesday hissed, her voice low but venomous.

“Uh-huh.” Bianca gave her a knowing look before turning her attention to the front of the room, clearly enjoying herself.

Wednesday’s hands clenched into fists beneath the desk, her dark eyes flitting back to you. You were laughing softly at something Enid had said, your smile so warm it could melt snow. Wednesday felt a strange mix of frustration and longing twist in her chest. How could someone like you affect her so profoundly without even trying?

“Alright, class,” the teacher finally announced, setting down her book with a flourish, “we’re ending a little early today because it’s time to find out who your Secret Santa recipient will be!”

“Yes! Finally!” Enid exclaimed, bouncing in her seat like a hyperactive puppy.

Wednesday’s gaze shifted to the front of the room, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. A new wave of dread crept into her mind. This was it, the moment she’d been dreading since Weems’s announcement.

“Each of you will receive a small box. Inside that box is the name of the person you’ll be playing Secret Santa for." The teacher said, "Miss Sinclair, I believe you have the materials?”

“Oh! Yes, one sec!” Enid practically bolted from her chair, nearly toppling it in her haste. She sped out of the room in a blur of rainbows🌈🌈🌈, leaving everyone staring after her.

Wednesday felt like it hadn't even been 5 secs before Enid burst back into the classroom with a large, overly festive box clutched in her arms.

“Ta-da!” she declared, dropping the box onto the teacher’s desk with an audible thud.

Several students groaned at the display.

“Why is it so… glittery?” The teacher asked.

“It’s Christmas!” Enid replied, as if that explained everything. She opened the larger box to reveal an assortment of tiny boxes, each neatly wrapped and tied with red ribbons. “Pretty, right?”

Wednesday arched an eyebrow. “If you mean ‘pretty excessive,’ then yes.”

Enid ignored her, already grabbing a smaller box. “Okay, so I’ll start handing these out! Bianca, wanna help?”

Bianca sighed but stood anyway, muttering, “Might as well get this over with.”

The two of them began pulling out the tiny boxes, reading the names written on them, and distributing them around the room. Students grumbled their thanks, some reluctantly and others with mild curiosity as they turned the boxes over in their hands.

When Enid finally reached Wednesday, her excitement was still at an all-time high. “Here you go, Wends!” She thrust the small box toward her.

Though Enid had wrapped the box with black paper, Wednesday stared at the box as though it might explode. She took it with her usual reluctance, her fingers brushing against the ribbon’s texture.

With deliberate slowness, Wednesday pulled the ribbon loose, lifted the lid, and peered inside.

Hopefully, it would be someone she loathed. The possibilities were endless: a smug siren, an irritating vampire, or perhaps even that one werewolf who insisted on howling every full moon at midnight since she wolfed out. Yes, she could relish the challenge of giving them the worst, most spiteful gift imaginable.

But luck had a way of avoiding her at the worst times.

The name on the slip of paper felt like a slap in the face.

Curse you, Enid Sinclair.

Y/N L/N.

Her stomach dropped. Of all the names. Of all the cursed possibilities.

Wednesday’s chest tightened. This was a disaster.

Being your Secret Santa meant she’d have to think about you even more than she already did. She’d have to choose a gift, something meaningful, something that wouldn’t betray the tangled mess of emotions she felt whenever you were near. She couldn’t risk exposing herself, couldn’t let you know how much you affected her.

And yet, a small, treacherous part of her was… excited. The thought of giving you something, of seeing your reaction, was almost enough to outweigh her dread. Almost.

Her jaw clenched. No. She couldn’t let this ridiculous tradition get to her. She’d find the most generic, impersonal gift possible and be done with it. That was the only way to survive this.

But as she watched you lean back in your chair, your gaze flickering toward her with a curious smile, Wednesday felt her resolve waver.

This was going to be the longest Christmas of her life.

Enid practically hop-skipped down the hall as she clutched a small notebook filled with ideas for Eugene’s Secret Santa gift to her chest. She was going to be the best Secret Santa ever.  

"Maybe I can knit him a bee-themed scarf! Or get him a limited edition honey collection—do they even make those? I’ll make it happen!"

She pushed the door open to their shared dorm room, fully expecting to see Wednesday brooding on her typewriter or reading some obscure book about medieval torture methods. Instead, she froze mid-step.

"Wednesday… what the hell is this?"

Wednesday had her cursed investigation board back out, its surface covered in a chaotic mess of photos, red strings, and notes. At first glance, it looked like Wednesday was solving another gruesome murder in the woods.

Enid’s pulse quickened. "Oh no, no, no. What happened now? Did some monster claw its way out of the woods again?"

Wednesday didn’t immediately respond. She was too engrossed in pinning another photo to the board, her expression dark with concentration. Enid’s eyes scanned the board, her heart pounding as she prepared for the worst. But then her gaze landed on the pictures.

Your pictures...

Not once, not twice, but in multiple photos. Some candid shots of you laughing in the quad, others from a class project presentation, even one blurry photo of you reading in the library. There were sticky notes around them, though the handwriting was too small for Enid to make out. She blinked, her mouth falling open.

“Wednesday,” she began cautiously “what is this? What did Y/N do?”

Finally, Wednesday turned her head to look at Enid, her expression unreadable, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “Y/N did nothing.”

“Then why... why is she all over your investigation board?! Are you trying to prove she’s some kind of secret villain or something? Because I’m telling you, Wednesday, Y/N is, like, the nicest person I know.”

Without a word, Wednesday plucked a folded slip of paper from her desk and shoved it into Enid’s hands. Enid unfolded it and read the name written in sharp, neat letters.

Y/N L/N.

The realization dawned on Enid almost instantly. Her lips parted, forming an "O" of understanding. "Ohhhhh," she said, drawing the sound out like a squeaky balloon. "You’re her Secret Santa!"

"Astute observation," Wednesday deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Enid’s eyes darted back to the board, her previous panic replaced with intrigue. "So, is this—?"

"Yes," Wednesday interrupted with a sigh, "This is… research."

"Research?" Enid echoed, "Wednesday, this is borderline stalking. You don’t need an entire murder board to pick out a gift!"

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond. Her gaze flicked back to the board.

Enid’s eyes scanned the chaotic collage again, only to land on a picture of another student, a girl... Darcy? Enid remembers. Unlike the others, this photo had a bright red circle drawn around it.

"Uh, Wednesday?" Enid said cautiously, pointing at the circled picture. "Why is Darcy on here?"

Wednesday’s response was immediate and emotionless. "That girl is Y/N’s nemesis. I thought perhaps eliminating her would be an appropriate gift."

Enid gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Nemesis? What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Darcy spilled coffee on Y/n." Wednesday said flatly.

“Spilled Coffee??!!” Enid repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. “Darcy spilled coffee on Y/N six months ago. By accident! And she apologized, like, a hundred times.”

“Same thing,” Wednesday said, her tone indifferent.

"Alright alright. Lets take it down a bit. Have you tried thinking about something normal? Maybe a book." Enid asked shrugging.

Wednesday glared at Enid. “A book? How unimaginative. I refuse to insult her intelligence with something so pedestrian.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” Enid shot back. "How about you tell me the list of what you have considered."

“A taxidermy specimen,” Wednesday offered.

“Dial it back.”

“An antique dagger that captures the souls of its victim.”

“No, that's... wait... does that actually exist?”

“A preserved tarantula.”

“Wednesday!” Enid groaned, throwing her head back. “You can’t give her something creepy! You’ll scare her off!”

Wednesday’s expression darkened, and she muttered under her breath, “It’s better than being dull.”

“Look,” Enid said, stepping closer and placing a hand on Wednesday’s shoulder. “I get it, okay? You like her. Like, really like her. And that’s scary and new to you, I get it. But you’re making this way harder than it needs to be. Just think about what would make her smile. That’s all that matters.”

Wednesday’s gaze softened, her usual sharp retort dying on her lips. She glanced at the board one more time, her mind swirling with uncertainty. “What if… I choose wrong?”

Enid smiled gently. “You won’t. You know her better than you think.”

Wednesday didn’t argue. But as she looked back at the pictures of you... and that smile. Maybe the answer really was simple.

And so, she found herself standing at the edge of the quad.  her dark eyes surveying the chaos.

She held the small box in her hand, its contents weighing far more heavily on her mind than its actual physical mass. The box was simple plain black, tied with a thin crimson ribbon.

This was idiotic. Completely, utterly idiotic.

Ridiculous, she thought, glancing down at the gift. Why should this be any different from any other calculated gesture?

But it was different. You made it different.

She inhaled deeply, the cold air filling her lungs before she began her measured descent into the quad. Her steps were deliberate, slow.

Around her, students chatted and mingled and she felt their eyes occasionally drift toward her, as they always did, but tonight, she barely noticed. Her focus was elsewhere.

You.

Wednesday spotted you almost instantly. You were seated at one of the circular tables near the center of the quad, surrounded by her circle of idiots. Each of them had their gifts piled near their chairs, wrapped in colorful paper that made Wednesday inwardly puke. There was something almost unsettling about seeing you like this.

Enid whispered something to you and you smiled but, that smile didn't quite reach your eyes. Your usual brightness was dimmed tonight, replaced with an air of... nervousness? Contemplation? Whatever it was, it made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

As she neared the table, Enid was the first to notice her. The werewolf’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Wednesday! You made it!” Enid’s voice rang out, drawing the attention of the entire table.

Your eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, the noise around her faded. The nervousness in your expression softened slightly, replaced by something gentler. You offered a small, shy smile that sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through Wednesday’s chest. She quickly averted her gaze, clearing her throat as she reached the table.

"Of course, she made it," Bianca drawled, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "Our personal Christmas Grinch wouldn’t miss the chance to haunt us while we are trying to have some fun."

Wednesday’s gaze snapped to Bianca, her dark eyes narrowing. "If I wanted to haunt you, Bianca, I’d do it with far more creativity than attending this… overdecorated spectacle."

"Overdecorated spectacle? Some of us put effort into this, you know." Enid pouted "Well at least you came, so come on, have a seat!" Enid said brightening up again as she patted the empty seat beside her.

Reluctantly, Wednesday slid into the offered seat, her posture as stiff as ever. She placed the box on her lap, keeping it hidden from view, her fingers resting on the ribbon as if to reassure herself it was still there.

"Hot cocoa?" Eugene offered, holding out a steaming mug.

"No," Wednesday replied flatly, her eyes darting briefly to you. She doesn't need to burn anyone. For now.

You glanced up then, your gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before you quickly looked away, a faint blush dusting your cheeks. Wednesday’s stomach twisted at the sight, though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

You reached for your drink and for a moment, you seemed lost in thought again. Your brow furrowed ever so slightly, and your gaze drifted to the flickering lights above. Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she observed you, her mind racing to decode the emotions playing across your face.

Were you nervous? Sad? Or perhaps simply tired of the holiday cheer? Was it the Secret Santa event? Did you draw someone you weren’t fond of?

Who had you drawn? And what had you chosen for them? The thought unsettled her more than it should have. A fleeting image of you selecting a thoughtful gift for someone else sent a sharp pang of irritation through her. You, holding a gift, your face bright with anticipation as you presented it to some undeserving fool.

Perhaps that girl you’d partnered with in herbology last week or the one who lingered too long near your station, or the one who asked you on a dance in the ugly sweater party... maybe she would need to burn someone after all.

Before she could spiral further into her thoughts she felt the chatter quiet almost instantly and Wednesday didn't bother looking at the stage.

“Good evening, everyone,” Weems began, her voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “I’m delighted to see so many of you here tonight, embracing the spirit of the season”

Wednesday suppressed a groan, straightening in her chair but not bothering to feign interest.

Weems continued, her smile widening as she surveyed the gathering. “This year has been relatively… uneventful.” She hesitated just a fraction of a second, her gaze lingering momentarily on Wednesday before moving on. “For which I am profoundly grateful.”

That earned a few chuckles from the crowd, and Wednesday’s lips twitched in faint irritation. Uneventful? That was certainly one way to describe it. From monsters lurking in the woods and unraveling a centuries-old conspiracy to.... brooding. Yeah.. that's what Wednesday found herself doing last year... Was Bianca right about her brooding all the time?  

She should’ve hated this year, every day of it. It was, by all accounts, actually uneventful. The monotony alone should’ve driven her mad.

But it hadn’t.

And she knew exactly why.

Her gaze flicked back to you, almost involuntarily. You were still seated, your hands now wrapped around your cup as you leaned closer to Enid, nodding along to whatever trivial nonsense she was whispering in your ear. You didn’t look extraordinary, not in the conventional sense. Your sweater was unassuming. And yet, to Wednesday, you radiated something inexplicably magnetic.

It was because of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the ribbon of the box in her lap, her thoughts momentarily scattered. She should have hated this year, loathed it for its lack of intellectual stimulation and excitement. But no matter how much she tried, that hatred never came.

Because of you.

She sighed, a sound barely audible even to herself, and returned her attention to Weems, who was still mid-speech. “This year has proved what Nevermore can be,” Weems declared, her tone resolute. “A place of growth and of potential. As we stand on the brink of a new year, let us carry forward the bonds we’ve strengthened here tonight.” Weems’ gaze swept over the gathered students, lingering briefly on Wednesday, as if daring her to contradict the sentiment. Wednesday met her gaze with a neutral expression, unwilling to give the principal the satisfaction of any visible reaction.

“And so,” Weems concluded, her voice warm yet authoritative, “let us feast, celebrate, and look forward to the possibilities that lie ahead. Happy holidays, my dear students.” A polite smattering of applause followed, and Weems stepped back, gesturing toward the long tables laden with food at the edge of the quad. The students began to stir, rising from their seats and drifting toward the table.

From her seat, Wednesday found herself observing Enid tearing into her food, a sight both grotesque and vaguely amusing.

“Enid, you’re one drumstick away from wolfing out right here.” Bianca quipped from across the table.

Enid shot Bianca a pointed look, her cheeks already puffed out like a chipmunk’s from the food she was furiously chewing. Swallowing with a dramatic gulp, she said, “Hey! It’s not my fault everything tastes so good! And for your information, I was busy all day! You think this whole event planned itself?”

Wednesday barely registered the conversation, her dark eyes fixed on her untouched plate. The food, no matter how well-prepared or fragrant, was irrelevant to her. Her mind churned with far more pressing matters.

The gift.

The prospect of giving you the gift in front of everyone at the table was a particular source of dread. She was not one for public displays, especially when it came to something as vulnerable as this. What if they mocked her choice? Worse, what if you did?

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the box, her knuckles whitening. She refused to entertain that thought any longer. No. You wouldn’t mock her. You weren’t like the others.

You were kind... loving and you weren't... at the table?

Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the immediate area. You were nowhere in sight. The seat you had occupied moments ago was empty, your plate still half-full. Wednesday’s brow furrowed, a sliver of unease creeping in.

Where had you gone? She hadn’t seen you leave. Had she been so lost in her own head that she missed it?

And then she saw it—a small piece of paper resting just beside her plate. Her brows furrowed as she reached for it, unfolding it with deliberate care. The handwriting was unmistakable.

Meet me near the fountain.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips, unbidden but not unwelcome. Of course, it was you. Who else would have the audacity to summon her like this?

She folded the note carefully and tucked it into her pocket before rising to her feet.

Enid paused mid-bite “Where are you going? You barely touched your food!”

Wednesday didn't bother answering as she made her way through the crowd. Each step felt deliberate, measured. Her grip tightened around the small box in her hand as she approached the pathway leading to the fountain, her mind already racing.

What would she say when she saw you? Would she hand over the gift without a word, letting the gesture speak for itself? Or would she attempt something more... personal? Words weren’t her forte, especially not when it came to feelings. And yet, with you, words seemed both inadequate and entirely necessary.

And there you were.

Sitting on the bench, your back straight but your posture relaxed, you stared ahead at the frozen fountain.

For the briefest moment, Wednesday froze. Her mind, usually a whirl of calculated plans and sharp observations, was disturbingly blank. You looked so...you.

Finally, she took a breath, steady and controlled, and stepped forward.

You must have heard her approach because you turned your head just as she reached the bench.

Your eyes found hers.

That smile, the same smile. that had marked its place in... her unnecessary blood-pumping machine they called "heart". There was something different about it this time, though. It wasn’t the shy or nervous smile from earlier. It was warm, inviting, and... knowing. As if you had been waiting for her all along.

You patted the empty space beside you. “Sit.”

Wednesday hesitated for only a second before lowering herself onto the bench. She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, noting the way you rested your hands in your lap, your fingers brushing against one another absentmindedly. You were close, closer than she realized, and the proximity was enough to make her hyperaware of her every movement.

How does one start something like this? She had rehearsed no fewer than twenty scenarios in her mind, yet now, sitting here beside you, they all felt insufficient.

“Do you believe in fate, Wednesday?”

The question caught her off guard. She turned her head to look at you fully, her brow furrowing as she considered your words.

“Fate?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “The idea that our lives are predetermined by some cosmic force?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering.

“Fate,” she repeated, her tone contemplative. “A concept often romanticized but rarely substantiated. It implies predestination, a lack of autonomy, which I find… unsatisfactory.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and modest, yet it sent a ripple through her. “That’s a very Wednesday answer,”.

“And what would your answer be?” she countered, her gaze steady on you.

“I think,” you began, your eyes returning to the fountain, “that fate isn’t about things being preordained. It’s about moments, little choices that lead us to places we never expected to be. Like… sitting here, tonight, with you.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of your words pressing against her usual walls of detachment. You had a way of saying things that left no room for deflection, no safe harbor for her to retreat to.

“Perhaps,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter, “fate is less about inevitability and more about… alignment. An intersection of paths.”

You tilted your head, considering her words, and then smiled. “I like that.”

The silence returned, but this time, it felt warmer, less daunting. You shifted slightly, your shoulder brushing against hers, a small, fleeting touch that sent a spark of something unfamiliar coursing through her.

“There’s something I need to give you,” she said finally, her voice steady but softer than usual.

You turned to her, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Oh?”

She held the box out toward you, her movements precise but tinged with an underlying hesitation.

"You are my secret santa?" Your lips quirked into a teasing smile as you accepted the box. “I hope it’s not a tarantula,” you joked.

“It’s not,” she replied flatly.

You untied the ribbon carefully, your fingers deliberate as you removed the lid. Inside was a glass globe, delicate and intricately crafted. In the center stood two shadowy figures, featureless yet unmistakably human, lost in their own world, but at peace.

Your fingers hovered over the small button at the base of the globe. With a curious glance at Wednesday, you pressed it.

The soft melody of the piano that played was instantly recognizable. Your eyes widened, and you turned to her.

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her. “Wednesday, is this...?”

“The ugly sweater party night,” she finished for you, her eyes flicked back to the globe, unable to meet yours. “A memory. One I thought you should have, too.”

Your smile was radiant, and for the first time, she felt as though she had done something right, truly right.

And then you snapped your fingers.

A small, glowing purple portal materialized in the air, swirling and pulsating with quiet energy. You reached into it, your movements unhurried, and pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in deep blood-red paper. The portal vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no trace behind.

So, you could conjure portals. That explained how you’d managed to place the note near her earlier without her noticing, a feat she had, until this moment, deemed improbable. You possessed a skill that defied logic and simplicity, and though she hated to admit it, she was impressed.

You held the box out toward her, “I am your Secret Santa too, Wednesday,” you said, your voice light, a trace of mischief dancing on your lips. “Talk about fate, huh?”

Wednesday tilted her head ever so slightly, her dark eyes flicking between you and the box now resting in your lap. "I am skeptical of calling it fate. A calculated scheme seems more acceptable.”  ENID.

Slowly, she reached out and took the box, its weight heavier than she anticipated. You watched her with quiet anticipation, she tore away the paper, revealing a wooden case beneath. Her brow furrowed slightly as she opened the case, her breath catching the moment her eyes fell upon the contents.

Inside was a dagger, encased in glass, its blade gleaming even in the dim light of the fountain. But this wasn’t just any dagger.

The hilt was ornate, at its base, a ruby-red gemstone sat nestled within the design, pulsing faintly as though alive. The blade itself was thin, wickedly sharp, and etched with complicated patterns A faint inscription ran along its length in a language she recognized as Hungarian.

Her eyes widened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine, real smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She recognized this blade instantly.

“Elizabeth Báthory’s dagger,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The infamous serial killer of the 1600s, known for her brutal methods and rumored vampiric tendencies, had wielded this blade. Legends spoke of its dark history, of how it was used to drain the blood of her victims.

“How did you get this?” she asked, her voice low, almost adoring.

You shrugged lightly. “I have my ways.”

Wednesday’s gaze returned to the dagger, her fingers brushing against the glass casing as if to confirm its reality. Her mind raced with the implications of the gift, not just its historical significance, but what it meant coming from you.

You had given her something she cherished, not for its material value, but for what it represented.

You saw her. Not the façade she presented to the world, but the depths of her being, the parts most people recoiled from or misunderstood.

You didn’t shy away from the darkness that fascinated her; instead, you embraced it, honored it even, cared for it... cared for her...

The weight of that realization settled over her, mingling with an unfamiliar warmth that she didn’t know how to name.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice you leaning closer until your head rested gently on her shoulder.

She froze.

Her gaze flicked to you briefly. You were gazing down at the globe in your lap, the soft melody still playing. Her eyes returned to the dagger. She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible sigh, her gaze fixed on the ruby gemstone embedded in the dagger’s hilt.

Not a bad Christmas. Not bad at all.

Wanted to post this in Christmas night... but finished early. Comment how you guys liked it!

Also comment what you would've given Wednesday as her secret santa.

->WORKLIST<-

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 9 - Made a promise to be kept

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 3.2K

TWs: Illness, self-esteem issues, discussion of spanking, handjob/masturbation, voyeurism, suggestion of ass play, possessive kink.

Tegan spends the day at work feeling gradually more and more ill, so she decides to pick up a few things on her way home in case she can’t get out to get them the next day. It’s probably just a cold she picked up from the kids at the weekend, but she doesn’t want to have to drag herself out of bed and look for cough medicine if it’s worse than that. As she gets out of the car she suddenly remembers that Elvis basically lives in her apartment right now, and she could send him out to get things. Part of her wonders what on earth he’d come back with, but she also realises she’s been on her own for so long she’s forgotten what it’s like to rely on someone else.

Elvis fusses her and tries to insist on her resting, but she’s too worried about what kind of dinner he’ll cook without her help, so she tells him she doesn’t feel that bad. And she doesn’t, not really. Not until she tries to sleep. They lie down together as usual and she lets her mind drift off, but her thoughts stop making sense. It’s as if she’s put the words in a blender and then poured them out, and all the while she’s sweating and starting to wonder if her legs belong to her or have been swapped out for someone else’s. Eventually she tosses and turns herself fully awake, body hot and arms outside of the duvet freezing cold, sweat dampening the hair at the back of her head. 

“Queenie?” Elvis whispers. He looks at the digital clock by the bed. 2.30am. He’s been awake this whole time, watching her thrash about in her sleep and listening to the odd random word she’d mumbled. 

She rolls over and looks up into his concerned face. “Elvis, I’m sick.”

He strokes her forehead gently. “I can see that, baby.”

She closes her eyes again and groans. He presses a little kiss to her forehead now, carefully moving her sweaty hair out of her face. 

“Try ‘an go back ta sleep, honey.”

She groans again. “I’ll try.”

She closes her eyes but Elvis feels like a furnace next to her, he’s making it even hotter in the bed that already seems like it might be on fire. Then she hears him start to sing. 

Forever, my darling / Our love will be true / Always and forever / I'll love only you / Just promise me, darling / Your love in return / May this fire in my soul, dear / Forever burn

Her mouth curls into a smile and she opens her eyes again. 

“That’s cute.”

“Mmmm. I’m trying ta sing ya ta sleep.”

She giggles, putting her hand on his cheek. “Oh ‘raur. Don’t take this the wrong way but… you’re going to keep me awake if you keep doing that.”

Elvis immediately looks hurt and she wishes she could take it back. “Hm. Forget it then.” He flops onto his back, sighing loudly. He doesn’t mind staying up late, in fact he kind of enjoys it, but he wants to be asleep right now. When you’re asleep you can’t feel rejected.

“‘Raur.” Tegan rolls onto her side, leaning over him to look into his face and seeing his eyes firmly shut. “I’m sorry. I love your singing.” She nuzzles his cheek. “I just don’t find it very sleep-inducing.”

He grumbles again. 

“You could sing to me when I feel better. I’d like that.” She’s still feeling a bit delirious from the fever and so she puts her head on his chest and says, “I’d really like that, Elvis.”

“Why’s ‘at then?” He huffs. 

She giggles into his pyjama top. “‘Cause I’d find it a turn on.”

His lips curl into a smile at the revelation and he starts singing again, right in her ear.

My heart's at your command, dear / To keep, love, and to hold / Making you happy's my desire / Keeping you is my goal

She giggles even more. “Stop it! I’m sick!”

“Alright then. Try ‘an sleep. I won’t sing this time.”

She props herself back up on her elbow again. “You’re making the bed kind of hot…” She pulls an awkward face, knowing he won’t like this either. 

He sighs deeply. “First ya won’t let me sing ya ta sleep, now ya want me on the couch.”

“I’m sorry. But you won’t sleep well with me here either.”

He curls a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. “This’d be a damned sight easier if we were at Graceland.”

“But I like my apartment. And you like my apartment. Don’t you?”

“Hmmm. Yeah. But not when I have ta sleep on the couch. I’m an old man, my back can’t take it.”

Tegan doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable, but she can’t see how she’s going to sleep at all with him in the bed. 

He shakes his head and sits up. “But I’ll go. I’ll see ya in the mornin’ baby.”

***

When Tegan doesn’t appear at the usual time, Elvis picks up the phone and calls her work. He causes quite a kerfuffle, being Elvis Presley and everything, but it does mean that they believe him when he says he’s not sure if she’ll be in for the rest of the week. He pads around the kitchen making coffee and rummaging around in the cupboards for anything else she might want. When he’s finished he puts it all on a tray and then sets it down on the side, slowly pushing her bedroom door open and peering inside. 

“Honey?” He says softly, into the semi-darkness. 

Tegan grumbles. She’d woken up a while ago, but she didn’t really want to move. She still doesn’t want to move now, so she burrows further into the bedding. Elvis walks around the bed and gets in next to her, gently putting an arm over her. She grumbles again. 

“I made ya coffee,” he murmurs into her hair. 

“Thanks. I feel like my throat’s full of broken glass.”

Elvis pulls her against him, kissing the top of her head. “Ya want it now?”

“Please.”

He gives her another kiss and then gets up again, fetching the tray and bringing it in. She sits up slowly, pulling pillows behind her to prop her up and looking with some interest at the contents of the tray. 

“I thought you were just bringing coffee?”

Elvis puts it down on her lap. “Well I thought these might help.”

Tegan looks at the rest of the contents of the tray in bewilderment. There’s painkillers, which make sense, next to two cups of steaming coffee. So far, so good. But then there’s a box of crackers, a bottle of gatorade (which she’s quite sure she didn’t buy, so she’s confused as to what it’s doing in her apartment) three or four candy bars (which, again, she didn’t buy) and a packet of lemsip. Just, on its own. Without hot water or a cup. She rubs her forehead in confusion and then just giggles. 

“What?”

She hands him his coffee and takes hers, setting the tray down on the bed between them. Coughing a little, she takes a few sips of her drink to try and make her throat feel a bit better before replying. 

“I bought a load of cough drops and things at the shops yesterday,” she explains. “They’re in the cupboard over the sink.” 

“Oh,” he sighs. He didn’t sleep well on the couch at all, and he’s starting to feel a little like everything he does at the moment is wrong. “Ya want those?”

She takes another sip of coffee. “In a bit.”

He huffs again. She raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Everythin’ I do fer ya, ya don’t like.”

Tegan sighs, and then she puts her head on his shoulder. “That’s not true. This coffee is actually alright.”

She means to make him laugh but he just groans, moving her off him and getting up again. 

“I’m no good at this.” 

She watches in disbelief as he walks back out of the room again. “Elvis!” She calls after him, then bursts into a fresh round of coughing. “‘Raur?” 

When she sees he’s not coming back, she decides to get up, slowly pulling on panties and an old Elvis sweater she found the other day in the back of her closet. She pushes on slippers and then pads out of the room, carrying her coffee. He’s always telling her off for wandering about the place naked, so she hopes this will do. She coughs a bit more and sniffs, finding him sat on the couch watching MTV. Wandering over to the cupboard she grabs a handful of cough drops, Vicks and tissues, and then walks over to the couch. Looking away from the TV for a moment, he’s greeted by the sight of his girlfriend walking around in a sweater with his name on it and a pair of boxer-style panties. It’s hard to stay mad. 

“Where’d this come from?” He asks, tugging at her sleeve as she sits down next to him. 

“Found it in my closet. I think I must’ve bought it when I was a teenager. I’m amazed it still fits, but it was pretty baggy on me back then.”

“I like it,” he announces, because he really does. “No panties with my name on?”

She smirks. “I bet I could find some.”

He pats his thigh. “C’mon. Lap.”

Elvis has got in the habit of telling her to get onto his lap if she doesn’t do it of her own accord, and although it makes her feel a little bit like a pet dog, she does kind of like it. And she likes cuddling up with him like this anyway. So she sits sideways on his lap so she can still watch the TV, his arm firmly around her. She sneezes. 

“I’m gonna give you this, if you keep cuddling up to me all the time.”

Elvis huffs again. “Ya want me ta go? I’ll just go.” He lets go of her so she can get up if she wants. 

“I didn’t say that, ‘raur.” She cuddles into him more, her fingers playing with the buttons on his pyjama top. “I just don’t want you to get sick too. I like you being here. I’d be lonely without you.” 

“Hmmm. Wouldn’t want ya ta be lonely.”

His arm returns to its previous position, but he still feels uncomfortable. He’s a protector, but he’s not much of a caregiver, and he feels like he ought to be. After having a child, he thinks he should be better at knowing what to do when someone is sick, but he and Cilla had always sort of farmed that out to other people. 

“I was only teasing, earlier, you know?” She says after they’ve been sitting there quietly for a while, watching music videos. 

“Should’ve known,” Elvis mutters. “Should be good at looking after sick people by now.”

Tegan shifts to look into his eyes, which stare back, full of sadness. “You couldn’t know what was in my cupboards, I didn’t tell you. But you could’ve just asked what I wanted. That might’ve been easier.”

“Oh. I suppose so.”

“It’s cute though. How much you try.”

He huffs. “Don’t wanna be cute.”

“That’s tough really, isn’t it? Because you are so cute,” she teases, rubbing her nose against his. 

“Ya do really emasculate me sometimes, honey. Callin’ me pretty an’ cute. Next thing I know you’ll be plaiting my hair an’ puttin’ on make-up.”

Tegan giggles. “You put make-up on yourself in the 50s, didn’t you? Come to think of it, in the 60s and 70s too, blodyn.”

“What are ya callin’ me now?”

She bites her lip. “Blodyn. It’s a term of endearment, but literally it means flower.”

“Flower?!” He rages for a second, and then laughs. “Yer really callin’ me flower. Aha. I see.”

“Yeah I am. My little blodyn, fy blodyn bach, taking care of me while I’m sick.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “If ya weren’t sick, ya’d be gettin’ a spankin’ for this…”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He gives her a quick hard slap to the side of her thigh, making her yelp, and then kisses her gently on the lips. “I’ll put it on the list of things ta do when you’re well again. Sing ta ya and then spank the livin’ daylights outta ya.”

***

Tegan gets worse over the next few days, and spends them mainly in bed, with Elvis ferrying hot drinks and soup back and forth. Around day four he starts to get sick too, and although he's grumpy about it he only really gets a sniffle and a bit of a cough for a day or two. Tegan is still exhausted a week later, but she drags herself out of bed to sit on the couch. 

“Feelin’ any better, baby?” Elvis asks, pulling her onto his lap as usual and arranging a blanket around her. 

“Hmmm. Just tired.” Tegan’s head flops against his chest. 

“Can I get ya anything? Ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I am actually. Nothing in the apartment worth eating though.”

“Why don't I go out and get us a little breakfast, baby?”

She sits up and strokes his cheek lovingly. “That would be great if you feel OK?” She puts her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, worrying that he's more ill than he's letting on. 

“I feel fine, baby. Jus’ sniffin’ a bit s’all.”

“Don't know how you've got away with that but I shouldn't complain. Don't want to lose my nursemaid.”

Elvis shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “What have I told ya about that? ‘M not a nursemaid.”

Tegan giggles. “Sorry. You're doing such a good job of taking care of me, though.”

He puffs up with pride. “I am?”

“Yes!” She kisses him on the lips. “I don't know what I'd have done without you.”

He grins, pleased to feel useful for a change. “Alright then. You stay there and keep warm and I’ll go and get us some breakfast.”

Tegan chuckles to herself about staying warm in the middle of September in Memphis, but she doesn't say anything. It's sweet of him to worry. As she waits for him to come back, she thinks about how sweet he's been this whole week. It was obvious not being able to take care of her instinctively bothered him, but he'd taken her advice and actually asked what she wanted and by now he was pretty good at feeding her and bringing her medicine. He'd even got in the shower with her a couple of times and helped her wash when she'd been too tired to want to do it on her own. 

***

After breakfast, Elvis watches Tegan take the plates from the couch into the kitchen. She’s still only wearing panties and that old sweater, and he feels his body react to the sight of her ass jiggling a little as it makes its way around the apartment. It’s happened the past couple of mornings, but he’s done his best to ignore Little Elvis and concentrate on looking after Tegan. This morning, though, he’s really making himself known and Elvis isn’t sure he’s going to be able to ignore him. 

Tegan’s too tired to notice the look on his face, flopping back down next to him and putting her legs up on his lap.

“Honey, ya can’t keep wanderin’ about the place like this,” he tells her. 

“Hmmm? Why?” 

He takes her hand and puts it on his now fully-hard dick. She moves her head and her eyes go wide. 

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what else to say. She doesn’t want to tell him to sort himself out, but she’s not sure she has the energy to do anything for him either. Plus she’s not exactly feeling that sexy right now.  

“I-it’s okay,” he stutters. “I…uh… I can sort myself out.”

Tegan shakes her head and squeezes him. “No, I wanna help.”

“Honey, you’re still sick.”

She sighs, her head back on his shoulder. “Well, at least let me watch then.”

She hears him cough awkwardly, as if he’s trying to swallow down something particularly difficult. 

“W-watch?”

“Mmmm. Y’know. You jerk yourself and I’ll… watch.”

“I think I might feel a bit self-conscious, baby.”

“Why? I’ve seen your dick before. And, spoiler alert, I know what happens at the end.”

She hears a grumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve never… done that before. In front of someone.”

“Oh. Well I promise I’d enjoy it.”

He moves his head and shoulder so that she has to look at him. “Would ya?”

She nods. “Here. Why don’t I help you?” 

Reaching down to undo the garish belt he’s wearing, she unzips his pants. He shuffles around to make it easier for her to release Little Elvis from his boxers, then moans softly as she pumps him up and down a couple of times. Letting go, she takes his hand from where it’s resting on his thigh and guides it towards his dick. He takes over stroking himself, enjoying the feeling of the kisses she starts to press to his neck and ear. His other hand reaches around to her ass, grabbing a handful and sighing softly to himself. She bites her lip, thinking about how else she can help him.

“You want me to do this?” She asks, slipping her hand in his boxers to massage his balls. 

He groans. “Yes please.”

She squeezes them gently a few times, and then starts to get other ideas. One of her fingers rubs the skin just below them, and he almost jumps. 

“Honey!”

She giggles. “No?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“I swear you’re supposed ta be sick.”

She goes back to massaging, her lips pressing against his. “I am. I just thought you might like a little assistance.”

He kisses her and then pulls back again. “I don’t need yer finger up my asshole.”

Tegan can’t help herself, bursting out laughing, pulling her hand away from him to slap her thigh in amusement. 

“It wasn’t your arsehole, cariad. It was your taint.”

Elvis tilts his head to one side and huffs out a sigh. “Yer on very thin ice, y’know that? Even sick girls can get a spanking.”

She giggles, cuddling into him and kissing his collarbone. “Sorry, ‘raur. Please carry on. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

She doesn’t really, they hang around his neck as he kisses her, run over his chest, even wrap around his own hand to help him as he gets closer to release. But she does resist the temptation to put them in his boxers again. At least for now. 

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he breathes in her ear, his lips and teeth finding the lobe. 

“Let me see,” she replies, looking down as he kisses her neck and makes a mess of his hand and pants. 

“Oh fuck. You do like me wandering around in these panties.”

“Mmmm.”

They sit there for a while longer, until he decides he has to get cleaned up. 

“You enjoy that?” She calls after him, as he walks towards the bathroom. 

He turns and smiles. “More ‘an I thought I would.” He fixes her with an intense stare. “But not as much as I’d enjoy fucking that pussy a mine, baby. Hurry up and get well.”

***

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the totally not official not-blog-event, may I request some happenstance where Dilah and Lilia have to look after the other’s son for some time? (As for whether or not Lilia is disguised, I’ll leave it up to you)

Referencing this post!

I’m going to write some headcanons for this one! ^^

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Most would feel insulted when their dorm leader goes out of their way to find someone to supervise them in their absence—but not Deuce!! He’s stoked to have a wise mentor figure to tutor and guide him. (He needs good role models if he wants to be a good role model himself one day, right?) Deuce just wasn’t expecting Lilia to be picked! (“Everyone else I asked was unavailable,” Riddle sighed. “Now do not burn the roses down while I’m away, is that understood?”)

“Kufufu. You don’t need to be shy or scared around me. I’m just your cute and friendly neighborhood Lilia-chan 🎵” he insists with an angelic smile. Almost immediately, Deuce feels like something… bad… is about to happen. He brushes that feeling off and happily welcomes Lilia to Heartslabyul (albeit a bit too stiffly and formally)—he has to remain polite with his upperclassmen, after all!

He brings a suitcase full of "the essentials". Lilia proceeds to pull out a bunch of weird-looking ingredients and ancient items. He claims they're all necessary for old wives' remedies--in case Deuce needs them!--as well as extra nutrients for his "world class" cooking that Deuce will get to experience later.

Lilia is a senpai and therefore theoretically a good tutor when Deuce needs help with his homework. And he is, for the most part! Problem is, when it comes to history, Lilia has a tendency to ramble and start telling personal stories. He ends up going so off topic that Deuce forgets what the initial question he had was.

Gets all excited to help his ward train for Track and Field Club. Lilia makes his own obstacle course in the Rose Gardens and drills Deuce in it. Deuce thought it would be a regular track at first, but then he notices the spikes, the lava pit, and the venomous snakes littering the field. "What? But this is the most basic of the basic!" Lilia tells him--so Deuce takes a deep breath, steels himself, and charges through.

Lilia wears a frilly "Kiss the Cook" apron as he cooks up some food! Trey nervously watches him and offers to help, but Lilia turns him down at every corner. As Trey leaves the kitchen, he tries signaling to Deuce to not take a bite. Too bad it goes over his head. One bite, and Deuce is knocked out cold. Lilia unfortunately misinterprets this as his food being so good, it took Deuce straight to heaven!

They bond over music! Lilia blares some of his favorite rock and metal songs for Deuce, who really vibes with how wild and free they are! He even shows Deuce some compositions he put together with the Pop/Light Music Club, demonstrating on his electric guitar (yes, he packed that with him). At one point, Cater joins them for a jam sesh but clocks out quickly--he's not sure how much his ears can take the volume. Riddle shouts at them to "turn it down", but it's hard to hear him over the music!

Lilia tries to help out with the chores by enchanting the brooms and mops to move on their own. Deuce asks him to please teach him. He doesn't want Lilia to do all the work--he wants to learn how to pull off such spectacular magic too! Lilia commends him for being so proactive, and, with a chuckle, sets to showing him the ropes.

Wakes Deuce up the next morning up hanging from his ceiling upside down. He screams, waking up Ace and his two other roomies, which delights Lilia to no end. "Rise and shine," he chirps. "My, you're so energetic, even first thing in the morning!"

Silver’s used to taking care of after himself while his father’s away on long journeys of self/discovery all over Twisted Wonderland. If he ever gets lonely, he has his animal friends and the Zigvolts to turn to. So… how did he somehow end up with a classmate’s mother looking after him? “It’s good to broaden your horizons and to meet new people!” Lilia had told him (right before casually peacing out)

“Put’r there, kid!” Dylla seizes Silver’s hand and gives it a good, vigorous shake. Her energy and strength definitely startles him wide awake (he was starting to drift off)! Silver suddenly realizes where Deuce got it from.

She cooks up omurice for Silver. It's Deuce's favorite, so she figures it would be a crowd pleaser for him as well. Dylla even puts in the effort to pipe on a little ketchup heart on the omelet, just how her son likes it~ Silver's surprised by the cuteness and how... non-lethal the omurice is. When he compliments Dylla, she simply laughs and tells him to eat up, cuz growing boys like him need more protein!

Dylla's impressed by Silver's horde of animal friends! She's used to seeing wild rabbits and birds in Clock Town, but never so many tamed woodland creatures. She tries to clumsily greet them, with Silver serving as the mediary and coaxing the birds to hop on her fingers and head. "No way!" Dylla gasps, giggling at the blue jay nipping at her neck. "Quick--take a picture of this, I need to show Deuce!" (Better that Silver take it anyway, Dylla's not that up to speed on the latest tech.)

She rolls up her sleeves and sets to tidying up Diasomnia! Silver suspects Dylla must be used to doing many things on her own, because she refuses help from him even when she's actively struggling. He silently steps in and takes the heavy armchair from her. "Don't push yourself too hard. If we work together, we can get things done sooner. It's... okay to rely on other sometimes--so please rely on me. Mrs. Spade."

Dylla finds him sleeping on a couch in the lounge. Instead of waking him up, she sighs and slips off her jacket and hat, placing them on Silver to keep him warm as he dreams. "... What am I going to do with you?" she says with a soft smile.

Silver's a good listener. Dylla doesn't mean to, but one thing leads to another and suddenly she's sharing all about her experiences as a single mother and what it's been like raising Deuce. He validates her and expresses empathy, saying that his own father must have similar experiences. "I'm thankful to him for working so hard to provide me with this life. I'm sure Deuce must feel the same way about you."

She tells him off when Silver tries to head out for his usual rounds of night patrol. Dylla turns him right back around and orders him to march off to bed! She worries that he'll be off doing something unsavory--or, Sevens forbid--get caught up in danger, all things her own son has been through.

Oh no! Silver slept in and now he's running late for class. Not to worry though. Dylla pulls up on a bike and tells him to hop on, she'll drive him to school. Silver thanks her and climbs aboard... not knowing that he's in for the wildest, roughest ride of his life. Hey, at least he'll be wide awake when he arrives for first period.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 41

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,165ish

Summary: You and Logan try to mend your relationship.

Notes: Officially starting the Logan movie scenes!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“The adamantium is poisoning me,” Logan admitted as he held you tightly against him. The two of you were cuddled up in your bed, cleaned up, and clothed after the make-up sex the two of you shared.

“What?” You moved to sit up slightly, looking down at his face.

“My adamantium skeleton is what’s killing me.”

“And it’s causing you pain?”

“Yes.”

“And your healing abilities, they’ve—“

“They’re still there, just much slower and leaving scars.”

“Like mine.”

“I think yours are better at this point, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes as you tried not to cry. Logan’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing up against your skin. “Don’t cry, honey. You know I can’t stand that.”

“There has to be something someone can do—that I can do— to help you.”

“There’s nothing, baby.”

“Where does it hurt right now?”

“Sweetheart—“

“Tell me.”

Logan sighed. “My wrists.” 

You took the hand he had on your cheek and kissed the inside of his wrist before grabbing his other hand and doing the same thing. “Where else?”

“My shoulders.” 

Logan’s shoulders were easy to access since he was wearing one of his white tank tops. You pressed kisses around his shoulder closest to you before moving to the next one. Then you warmed up your hands, not too much to burn him, and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. Logan let a relieved moan slip from his lips as he closed his eyes. You pressed a kiss to his bearded jaw as you continued to try to ease some of his pain like you were his personal heating pad.

“Stop,” he eventually groaned.

You quickly removed your hands and sat up. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” his hands ran down your arms, “never. It’s just… I’m supposed to be making amends. You shouldn’t be taking care of me like this.”

“James.” You shot him a brief glare. “This is you making amends by letting me take care of you.”

“But I need to be taking care of you like I’ve failed to do.”

“You are. This bed. Me staying here. How hard you are constantly working. You are taking care of me. But you need to let me take care of you, too.” You ran a hand through his hair, beginning to warmly massage his scalp. “No more sleeping alone. No more secrets, even if you’re trying to protect me.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

You sighed. “I hate it when you say that.” You moved to straddle Logan, careful not to put too much weight on his body. His hands held your hips as your hands came up to his face. “You deserve good things, Logan. You are not a bad person or an animal.”

“I—“

You placed a hand over his mouth. “No. You are good. You deserve good. You deserve me.” You began tearing up, hating when Logan got this way. You just wanted him to believe you. “I love you, James.”

“I know, I know,” he reached up and cupped your face, thumbs wiping the stray tears. “I’m sorry. I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you deserve. You need to start believing it.”

Logan sighed. “I am good… I deserve good… I deserve you.” He pulled you down and kissed you softly. “Thank you.”

~~~

Logan and you went down for breakfast together, holding hands. Caliban was already in the kitchen, readying some food.

“Not that I’m unhappy the two of you have made up,” Caliban started, “but next time, I would appreciate it if you weren’t so loud.”

“Thought you were out in the tank,” Logan grumbled.

“I was.”

“Then wear some earplugs next time.”

“Be nice,” you chided, patting Logan’s arm. “Sorry, Caliban.”

“Thank you,” Caliban responded. “Breakfast is free game. I’m going to eat with Charles. Give you two some more time alone.”

“Thanks.” You elbowed Logan as he reached for a pancake.

“Ow,” he grunted, looking at you with a confused expression. “What?”

“Say thank you.”

Logan sighed, “Thank you.”

Caliban took the tray as he shook his head, and headed out to Charles. Logan wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side before kissing your head.

“Got to work today,” he said.

You rested your head on him and sighed. “Okay… I’ll miss you.”

“Good,” he smirked. “I’ll be late because I have to pick up Charles’ meds.”

“If I give you a list, can you run to the store for groceries?”

“Sure.”

~~~

“I love you,” Logan whispered against your lips before stealing a kiss.

“I love you, too,” you replied. “Be safe. I’ll have dinner ready for you whenever you get home.”

“You don’t need to wait up.”

“But I want to… I don’t sleep well without you.”

“Try for me, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up when I get home.” He pressed another kiss to your lips. “I promise.”

“If you don’t, I’ll burn you to a crisp.”

Logan chuckled. “I don’t doubt it, honey.” 

He kissed your forehead before walking to the limo. You leaned against the doorway, wrapped up in one of his flannels, and watched him drive away. You hated how far away Logan had to drive for work, but you understood why he needed to keep Charles away from others.

~~~

Logan was exhausted. It was well past midnight as he pulled up to the smelting plant. He was later than he had hoped, but he had to argue to get Charles’ meds. Limping into the plant with arms full of groceries, Logan tried to be as quiet as possible. The small TV was playing quietly in the makeshift living room, providing the only light. The changing scenes increased the light on your sleeping figure on the couch. 

Logan smiled softly, shaking his head. He made quick work of putting the groceries away and getting Charles’ meds ready for the next day before he carefully came over to you. He crotched down beside the couch to get a good look at your relaxed features. 

“I missed this,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “I missed coming home to you.”

Biting down a groan, Logan swept you into his arms and headed up the stairs to your room. It wasn’t until he set you down in your bed that you started to wake.

“Logan?” You whimpered as he pulled away.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m gonna clean up and be right back.”

“Okay…”

As quickly as Logan’s failing body allowed him to, he had showered and changed before coming back to you. You were back asleep. He carefully picked you back up and laid down before placing you on top of him. It wasn’t easy on Logan’s joints to sleep with you on top of him, and he knew there would be long-term effects if he continued, but he had to. Sleeping without you anymore wasn’t an option for either of you. Maybe he could scrape enough money for a larger bed. Perhaps for your birthday. But you would hate him for spending money on you like that. You deserved it, though; you deserved a life much better than this. A life that you two once shared.

~~~

The months following were not easy, and you and Logan still struggled, but it was better. The two of you would fight but quickly work it out. There was no going to be angry.

Charles was gradually getting worse. Logan would still only allow you to visit Charles when he was there. It was frustrating, but when you experienced each of his seizures, you understood more and more.

You noticed that Logan was getting worse, too. It was heartbreaking to see the man you love struggling, and you couldn’t do much about it.

One day, you noticed that Logan had reading glasses in his pocket. You kept an eye on him, seeing if he would ever use them, though you knew he needed to. It was a few days later when you caught him trying to read a newspaper without them. He kept grunting as he squinted his eyes and moved the paper back and forth. You sighed, shaking your head at his stubbornness. You went and took the glasses from his jacket pocket. Quietly, you came up behind him and leaned over, slipping the glasses onto his face.

“Hey!” He protested.

“Use them,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Don’t need them.”

You laughed. “Yes, you do.”

“Don’t you think they make me look… ancient?”

You sat down in the chair next to Logan and guided his head to look at you. “I think they’re sexy.” 

Logan scoffed. “Sexy? Really?”

“Honey, anything that helps you is sexy to me.” You leaned forward and pecked his lips. “Use them. Stop being stubborn.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

~~~

Months later, you noticed Logan struggling more and more. He had a bigger limp and a cough now. His hair was grayer and there were more wrinkles. But he was still your Logan, your love.

“It’s nice to see you and Logan back together,” Charles said as you brought him his breakfast one morning, “where you belong.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I just wish I could do more to help ease his pain.”

“You’re doing enough, my dear. You’re doing enough to ease all of our pains.”

You kissed the top of Charles’ head. “I’ve got to go before Logan drags me out of here.”

“Maybe one day you can stay longer.”

“Maybe… See you later, Charles.”

Logan was waiting for you outside the tank, ready to go to work. “How is he today?” He asked, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you into him. 

“Sort of there.”

“And how are you?”

“Tired.”

“Get some rest today, then, baby.”

“Can’t you just stay home today?”

“Can’t. We need the money.”

“Yeah…” you nodded, looking down. 

“Hey,” Logan’s fingers hooked under your chin and gently pushed your face up. “What else is going on?”

“I just… I’m worried… Something is coming. I—I can feel it.”

“You’re safe.”

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe we’re all not safe.”

Logan sighed, glancing at the time on his watch. “I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk more about this when I come home.” He softly kissed you. “I love you, darlin’.”

“Love you, too.”

~~~

Logan knew he should have gone home, but he was tired and needed a few more jobs tonight. He decided to get some alcohol and take a nap in the back of the limo. He woke up to a group of men trying to steal the limo’s tires. Logan was forced to fight them off with his claws, getting shot multiple times. 

After killing three of them, the rest drove off. Logan got back into the limo and drove to a nearby gas station. He was thankful that he kept extra clothes in the trunk, just in case. Leaning over the sink, Logan grunted and groaned as the blood hit the porcelain and the bullets slowly and painfully forced their way out of him. 

Logan thought of you as he stood there. He knew that you would want to know what happened, but he was scared too worry you too much. He knew you already were worried. But, needing to hear your voice as he cleaned up, he called you.

“Hello?” Your sleepy voice filled the bloody gas station bathroom.

“Hey, baby,” Logan breathed out, trying to keep the pain from you.

“What’s wrong? Wait— Logan, it’s late. Why aren’t you home?”

“Just needed to pick up a few more jobs tonight.”

“Okay… but why does it sound like you’re in pain?”

Logan sighed. He should have known better than trying to hide this from you. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just had to fight off some thieves.”

“Logan—“

“Needed to hear your voice.”

“Then come home. Rest. We can worry about money in the morning. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m fine, darlin’. I’ll be home in the morning.”

“Logan—“

“Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep. Love you.” 

He hung up before you could get another word in.

~~~

Logan picked up three more jobs. One was a morning funeral, where he had been recognized as the Wolverine by a woman who insisted she needed his help. After avoiding her, Logan went to the hospital and grabbed the needed drugs for Charles. 

He got into his limo, only for a man to enter through the back. Logan turned around, ready to yell at the man.

“As I live and breathe, the Wolverine,” the man commented. “And he’s a junkie now.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Logan asked.

“You know, you got some buckshot in your door. I heard you was in Phoenix. But then, last night, some friends of mine in Texas HP called and told me they found three dead cholos in a pullout on 54. Not unusual, I know. Except one was missing a hand, another one a leg. So they was thinking it was either an escaped tiger or Freddy Krueger. But neither one of them can drive, one being fictional, the other one extinct. And since the wheel lugs they found belonged to a ’24 Chrysler and, well, this is a ’24 Chrysler… She found you yet?”

“Who?”

“Well, I guess there’s two of them… your girl and Gabriela.” Logan tensed at the mention of you. “Y/N’s been off our radar for a while now, but we know it’s only a matter of time before she finds you. Though, she’s not our main priority. See… I’m not looking for you, Wolvie, or your girl—well, anymore. I’m looking for someone who’s looking for you. She took something of mine when I wasn’t looking. Something for which I am responsible. Mexican lady. Has her sights on you now. Doesn’t ring any bells?”

“I don’t know any Gabriela, so get the fuck out of my car.”

“Oh. You know…” The man moved closer. “I know what you’re hiding, amigo. The old cue ball south of the border.”

“What do you want?”

“A little cooperation.” He handed Logan a business card. Logan made no move to grab it, forcing the man to toss it at him. “I’m a fan, by the way.”

The man left the car, and Logan picked up the business card. The business name was eerily familiar: Alkali Transigen. The man’s name was Donald Pierce, and he was apparently head of security. Logan’s stomach dropped, knowing that this wasn’t a good thing.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck!”

~~~

Logan didn’t return home the next morning, nor did he return your calls. You were growing concerned. 

“We’re out of meds,” Caliban told you after he brought Charles lunch. “Logan was supposed to be back with them. He’s not having a good day.”

“Something’s wrong,” you said. “He won’t answer my calls either.” 

You tried to get your mind off of everything by doing the laundry. Only, you found an adamantium bullet in Logan’s pocket. That broke your heart and made you angry at the same time.

You walked out of the plant and began pacing, feeling your skin heat up. If Logan didn’t return soon, you would have to find a way to get Charles’ meds without a vehicle. You would also need to find out where Logan went and confront him about the bullet. The familiar sound of the limo and the gate opening caught your attention. Logan pulled up, and you bulleted to the limo, launching yourself at Logan before he could fully stand up.

“Hey,” Logan coughed as you gripped him tightly. “What’s going—“

“You don’t get to do that!” You shouted, pulling back and shoving him against the limo. “You don’t get to call when things aren’t okay and then drop off the face of the earth!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I… I’ve been working.”

“You still had time to call me back. Even just to say that you were still alive! You’re so frustrating, you know?”

“Honey—“

“And this!” You pulled out the adamantium bullet. “Found this while doing the laundry. Are you planning on blowing your brains out? At one point, only your memory would die with this, but now… this could actually kill you, Logan! Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that this was your plan? What happened to not leaving me?”

“I don’t really have a choice, sweetheart. I’m dying.”

“But you’re not even fighting to stay anymore! I thought… I thought that I mattered to you.”

“You are everything to me, baby. But this is something neither of us can fight.”

“Just… go. Go inside. Charles needs his meds. He had a seizure this morning… And I need to cool down.”

“Y/N…” 

But you walked off faster than he could catch up to you.

~~~

When you finally decided to go inside, you found Logan in his room. The door was cracked open, allowing you to lean against the doorframe and peek in. Logan was sitting on the edge of his bed. He had a variety of alcohol in front of him with one of the bottles opened. His right hand had his claws out, only they weren’t all the way out. They were stuck. He was grunting in pain as he pulled at one of the stuck claws, trying to get it out.

You quickly entered and knelt in front of him. Glancing up at him, you could tell that he was ashamed. You took his hand from his claw and set it to the side before taking the hand with his claws out. Warming up your hands, you carefully used them to try to ease the pain.

“You don’t have to do this, sweetheart,” Logan grumbled. “I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly, you can’t,” you responded.

As you took care of his hand, the stuck claws slowly pushed out to their normal length. You carefully kissed the tip of each of them before kissing Logan’s knuckles, noticing the puss now oozing from where the claws were pushing out. Both of his hands were now trembling, making your heart break further for him.

“I don’t want you to remember me like this,” he quietly admitted, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Weak… pathetic…”

“You are neither of those things, Logan,” you told him. You cupped his face as you stayed knelt between his legs. 

“I should have told you about the bullet.”

“You should have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll call you back next time.”

“You better.”

Logan sighed, feeling the pain settle in him. “Can we lie down in your bed?”

Without a verbal response, you stood up and took Logan’s hands. You guided him over to your room and allowed him to lie down first. You warmed your body up as you moved yourself behind him, spooning him. He sighed, relaxing into you.

“Relax, honey,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’ve got you.”

next chapter >

[stupidlittlespirit]

as a stanley girl, there is SO MUCH MORE ford content. and it's 100% because he is "more handsome" (read it as the journal 3 passage where he writes "what is a silver fox??? people are calling me that......"

I also have another take: I think it also has to do with their body type. ford doesn't have a protuding belly and looks slimmer, while stan has a big belly, doesn't hide it, and when he does, he explicitly tells it's a girdle. cowards. afraid of this old man's delicious stomach 🫦🫦🫦

This is actually a really interesting point that I hadn't considered before.

I'm going to use this as a chance to analyse because I think it's quite interesting and I can't shut up about these old fuckers. Sorry.

And by the way, Ford repeatedly being referred to as being 'hot' always made me laugh because they're literally twins and it would piss me tf off if I was Stan.

(I am also speaking in big, broad brush strokes about the way in which they're received by the audience and portrayed in the show here, by the way. Very generally.)

The main difference between them I think is that Stan is portrayed as someone who 'didn't take care of himself' because he smoked heavily, drank, and was generally portrayed as quite 'grimy'.

But I would hasten to add that being homeless and having a rough life will make you like that to some extent, and that's not an effect of 'not taking care of yourself' so much as it is one of having to survive in any shape you can.

To be clear, I'm not saying you're bad or 'grimy' if you are/have been those things, I'm saying people often portray or view you as such when you've really just had to adapt and be like that to survive. You'll develop certain ways of being because of the people you're around (who usually tend to be hardened themselves) or even the people that you're not around, in the sense of social isolation. You'll probably drink or smoke or do drugs to cope, and all of those things age you dramatically. As does stress and trauma. You don't have anywhere to shower or stay clean. You don't have anywhere to get healthcare. You don't have anything. You lose access to so much that most people take for granted.

In terms of physicality:

Ford had to work out and try to take of himself to an extent because he needed to stay on the run and was moving around a lot. I hold this hc that interdimensional travel takes a HUGE toll on the human body and, like an astronaut would, it was imperative for him to stay in good shape or else he physically wouldn't be able to go on. He also had the astronomical intelligence level to craft food sources or find alternatives, and would have help from other beings along the way. I don't for a second think he survived entirely on his own and we do know that's true because he tells us so in the journal.

Stan survived in a very different way. He did survive totally alone. He had no one at all. He was likely depressed and being homeless meant he had no money, so, for example, he would have lived on a shitty diet of whatever he could get his hands on. When you're dirt poor, calories matter. Like, a lot. He never would have known where his next meal was coming from. He'd have been packing on weight with dogshit food and he'd have had to do it fast, but then you grow into bad dietary habits and it becomes harder to shift off when you become stationary or more consistent in income.

So he would have gained weight and kept it on like a life preserve, but he also wouldn't have had much need to work out to get rid of it once he was more settled, plus depression in general can add to weight gain, too.

Both of them are portrayed as quite stocky guys, as well. They're very broad and chunky in general, so their body type is kind of inclined to hold weight like that too.

Personality wise, Ford has traits that are probably seen as more 'admirable' or attractive by a general audience, in the sense that he is intelligent (booksmart, at least) and driven, he's noble in his cause and he's successful. He's portrayed as being 'proper'.

Stan, however, is portrayed as having traits that are inherently negative such as that he's dumb (he's not, he's very street smart and that IS intelligence, don't let anyone tell you it isn't!), he's a criminal, he's rough around the edges and coarse, he's kind gross, he's a failure, etc. He's portrayed at large as a Loser. His redeeming quality is that eventually, he's considered loveable.

I think it's the combo of their looks/bodies and their personalities seals the deal for a lot of people. One is seen as slim and smart and successful, whereas the other is fat and 'grimy' and a cantankerous ass.

We don't have to like someone to fuck them, but generally we do need to be attracted physically to them to fuck them.

Ford is seen as unlikeable in personality, whereas Stan is seen as unlikeable in looks. Stan is just emotionally more redeemable because we see his redemption and more of his backstory. Ford is just considered by a lot of people as big and sad and fuckable lmao

I, personally, don't think that when you truly look at them both in the light, that you can boil them down to those few traits. They are very complicated and layered, and while they do retain those points, the above is kind of 'how do they seem at a passing glance' or 'how do they seem from an immediate attraction point of view'.

Anyway, I do agree that Stan's body type and personality is viewed less favourably to Ford's because he's put forward as being grotesque, and for one thing, fat is generally accepted as something that equals being gross.

That's not to say I'm waving a stick being like 'waaah this was done on purpose it's fatphobic that they made Stan like that', I think their designs are purposeful but that they're done like that to show to an audience that Stan has lived a sedentary life since he stopped being homeless whereas Ford has been in motion constantly for 30 years.

I have no idea about how character design works, I'm thinking about how they'd look if I were writing about them as my original characters and I needed to portray their personalities/lives to my audience without showing them too much of their backstories up front.

Anyways, I think they're both dreamboats. Fat or thin. Don't give a fuck. I need them.

[imagionationstation]

22 and 25 please! 🛹 🎲 with Rise!Donnie and Raph

🛹 - I told you you couldn't do a kick flip! 🎲 - The most unlucky day

Raph knew this day had really taken a turn for the worst when Donnie left. It wasn’t as much the fact that he had left as it was how he left.

Fists clenched, eyes watering, and a bleeding scrape down his leg.

Their brothers’ laughter died when they saw his face. They only got a few seconds to process the new reaction to a wipe-out, and none of them were able to decide how to react before he went shooting into the sky at top speeds. Not entirely unexpected, Mikey and Leo immediately turned to him with wide eyes.

It took Raph a while to calm them down, ask for a portal back to the lair, and instruct them to hang back because “Raph’s got it”.

Those words seemed to calm them the most. And thankfully, neither followed when he stepped through the blue vortex.

He stepped in front of Donnie’s door, waited for it to close, and then knocked. Someone blew their nose. The voice croaked, “Go away.”

“But I came all this way.” Raph responded innocently, peeking at the knob. It’s unlocked, so he wants company. “I just wanna talk.”

“You want to comfort me.” Comes the grumpy voice. “I don’t want you to comfort me. Ergo, leave.”

“Yeeeaaaaah,” Raph twists the knob. “Raph’s not gonna do that.”

“You have to respect my wishes.”

“I’m the birthday boy.” He says brightly. The light’s off. He leaves it off and lets the outside light creep into the subway car. “So my wishes are more important than yours today.”

His eyes go to his leg. Blood has stained against the peeled skin. But it’s not still bleeding, so that’s good. There’s no way Donnie’s going to touch it while it looks like that. And he’s not going to let anyone else touch it while he’s high-strung. Hence, Big Brother comfort time.

“Just wanna talk.” He blatantly lies. “No comfort here.”

Donnie grunts disapprovingly into the pillow that he’s lifted to hide his face. He was probably hitting it against his head to rid the energy that still has his hands flexing around the cover.

As long as it’s not his fists…

“It wasn’t that bad of a wipe-out.” He says, somewhat awkwardly as he steps further into the room. “Don’t gotta be embarrassed.”

“Em notemberesed.” Donnie spits bitterly into his pillow. Raph sits next to him, smiling fondly. “Then why’d you run?”

A beat of silence. Donnie mumbles something that he doesn’t catch.

“Come again?” Raph leans closer. “Actually didn’t get that.”

Donnie tears the pillow from his face, throwing it against his lap. “I’m a dumb-dumb!” He glares, fingers digging into the casing. Raph sits up, getting out of reach of impending violence.

He doesn’t lash out. The fury dies some, and then he looks away. “Im a dumbest dumb-dumb and- and I’m ruining things!”

“Don’t talk about my brother like that.” Raph scolds importantly. “He deserves better.”

“I do not if that’s the truth.”

“Cite your sources.” Raph replies, because if it sounds sciencey then Donnie is more likely to open up than if it’s a feeling talk. “Because I don’t believe you.”

“Where have you been?” He snaps, slowly lifting each finger. “You caught me wrapping your gift, your cake had peanuts in it, the movie got lost, I forgot to tell dad about the celebration, April’s not here either, and now this!”

He dramatically gestures at his leg with his hands. Raph can’t help a light, “I told you you couldn't do a kick flip mid-ramp.”

Donnie shoves at him as he expects him too, freezes, and then immediately claws his hands back into the pillow as if to hide them. Guilt clouds his gaze as he glares across the room. “I ruined everything. I’m not ruining anything else.”

“Actually, you’re sources are based.” Raph pauses. “That’s not right. What’s that- that word when you’re like, when you’re judging something unfairly or, like, with your opinion without-“

“Biased.” Donnie interrupts, because he can’t help it.

Raph lights up. “Yeah! You’re biased-“

“I am not.”

“-because none of that was your fault. You told me not to go into the lab, the baker messed up the cake and we are going to sue because allergies aren’t real is stupid-“

Donnie nods solemnly. Confidently, Raph pushes on, “-movie got lost because Leo’s also stupid and forgot to put it away when you asked him too-“ He earns a firmer nod and a small smile, “-dad should have known it was my birthday and April was gonna be here but her mom surprised her by taking her out of town this week and you don’t argue with Mrs. O’Neil.”

Donnie sighs, “But it was my surprise.”

“And it was a great surprise!” Raph grins as the skeptical look. “And I love that you did this for me. We were at an actual extreme skate park! You did that!”

He flushes, “It wasn’t hard.”

“Uh, if it wasn’t hard to clear out an entire skatepark on a weekend afternoon, we would have done it already.” Raph shakes his head with big brother disapproval. “That’s awesome Donnie.”

“Just feels like today keeps going wrong.” Fingers kneed the pillow with less aggression. “I don’t wanna mess it up. Birthdays... Birthdays are important to you.”

“Like my birthdays would be any good if my little brothers weren’t a part of it.” Raph leans to wrap an arm around him, scooting him closer. Donnie cuddles into his side, refusing to look at him. “You’re trying to comfort me.”

“It’s my birthday.” Raph sing-songs. “Birthday means my wishes come truuuee. I want a birthday hug.”

“You are misusing wishes.” Donnie declares as he relaxes into the hold, pillow held to his chest. “But fine.”

And so Raph stays next to him, not about to drag Donnie back out before he’s ready, more than happy to have this moment sown in as a birthday memory. A phone dings and Donnie slowly pulls his out.

He abruptly shoots up, almost hitting Raph’s chin when he leans down to get a look, eyes shining as he gasps, “Dad’s got a cake! One of those ones from the Hidden City that taste exactly like peanut butter but with no real dangers!”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Raph explodes, because he’s been dying for one of those but they couldn’t find a shop that had any. “OH MY GOSH!”

“OH MY GOSH!”

“OH MY GOSH!!”

Donnie scrambles off the bed. “We’re going back! Leo’s portaling him and then he’s grabbing us!” He snatches his board, shoves it into Raph’s hand, and then goes to get the first aid kit. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” He also pushes that into Raph’s hands as he stims with renewed excitement. “Okay! That’s it? That’s it! Cake! Let’s go!”

Donnie goes to shove him towards the door and Raph eagerly throws it open. Leo’s there waiting for them. Mikey’s gawking at the box that their smug dad holds and Raph scoops Donnie up to charge through.

“This party’s back on!”

Two prompts restricted me so hard but I DID IT!! Not proud of it but I am satisfied. Good job me 👍

[ice-cap-k]

So... Unstable Universe Parrot. I've got thoughts I want to get off my chest about his character, so I'm here to ramble about it.

Parrot kind of drives me crazy. I know I'm not the only one upset by some of his choices throughout the series. But something kind of dawned on me that put the guy in a new light.

Spoilers ahead. Tldr at the end.

Parrot's regularly proven himself to be a hypocrite, what with telling Wemmbu off about how stealing is wrong and you shouldn't stoop to your enemy's levels, only to immediately turn around and talk about stealing from Reddoons the next video later BEFORE he even realized there was anything wrong with Red or Capitol City's way of business. Then there's the blatant killing off of Dean and Wifies' pets while arguing it's fine for him to have an allay just to make it super obvious that, yes, he is a hypocrite.

Then there's the entire mess with Wifies during their fight. They "broke up," sure. Parrot ran away despite Wifies begging him to come back and then later accused Wifies of being the one to leave. Wifies has since apologized profusely and no longer made any attempt to argue with Parrot on the matter of his own safety because he fears Parrot will leave again. Parrot has not yet apologized as of the time I am writing this. Wifies may have overstepped by burning the compass, but Parrot refused to hear him out on a very real concern that Parrot is throwing himself into danger, and Wifies just doesn't want to lose him. Considering Parrot's hero complex, as shown by repeatedly jumping into fights that aren't necessarily his with little to no regard for personal safety, this is a very real risk.

And, you know, also hypocritical on Parrot's behalf for refusing to listen when he himself has expressed one-sided concern for Wifies' well-being during the entire confrontation with Clown. A scenario where Parrot literally refused to let Wifies help despite Wifies wanting to because he did not want to risk Wifies safety.

I think Parrot was telling the truth. He doesn't understand.

And that, when I really thought about it with this last episode, is kind of fascinating. Even when Parrot has lived through an exact scenario beforehand where he felt the desire to keep someone he cared about safe, he refused to listen when the situation was reversed. In fact, Parrot said his usual "I don't understand" multiple times after Wifies burned the compass and explained he wanted to keep Parrot safe.

He doesn't understand, despite having been in a very similar situation before.

The more I thought about Parrot's actions throughout the entirety of Unstable Universe, the more I realize that Parrot doesn't seem to experience empathy. At all.

He feels sympathy. He feels bad for the people forced to mine for ores to line Capitol City's koffers. He feels bad for Wifies being chunk banned and missed him dearly because he does care about him. He felt bad for Dean's predicament with the mafia and took him under his wing. He has a strong sense of justice. He helps people. He knows what's wrong and fights for what is right. In fact, Parrot is an objectably good guy. But he can't put himself in someone elses place. And when he does end up in the other person's shoes, he can't handle it.

Just look at how freaked out he was over Clown saying they were a lot alike. Something that had a profound impact on one, possibly more videos. Let's ignore the moral high ground Parrot tried to scrape together at the end that was absolutely unjustified and focus on Parrot's actions after Clown said that for the moment. Even after getting Wifies back from the threat of Clown almost killing his friend, Parrot STILL wanted to go after Branzy again despite very clearly seeing what that kind of a hostage situation would lead to. Even after experiencing the same threat to a loved one that he was trying to hold over Clown's head, Parrot could not make the connection that Clown may feel the same. That history would just repeat itself.

Heck, he doesn't even care that he's planning on dragging into a war a bunch of innocents who had only been trying to escape the mafia when he went to the Farlands. Despite the fact that he had his own civilization already taken over by the mafia.

Parrot has his hero complex and acts narcissistic and hypocritical because he can not make the emotional connection between his own feelings and others.

I'm no psychologist, but he strikes me as someone with Empathy Deficiency Disorder. People with this disorder tend to criticize or blame others without understanding where they are coming from, don't take responsibility for their own actions, have little to no patience, rarely show any appreciation for others, and regularly put themselves first and foremost.

Sound familier?

You could probably consider someone like Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean as someone with something similar to this disorder. That or more of a narcissistic disorder, but those tend to go hand in hand.

I don't know if this was the content creator's intention as he wrote up his character, but it certainly helped me put Parrot's actions into perspective. It's really cool to think about watching a character go through the hero's journey without something as basic as empathy. While it's too early to tell, the only other character that might come close to such low empathy is Ash, who is literally the big bad. Then again, we see so little of Ash and his spoken word makes him an unreliable narrator regarding his own goings-ons. Not even Clown, who we've seen has plenty in common with Parrot. Clown experiences empathy, because he knew how upset Parrot would be if Wifies was threatened. Just as upset as Clown would be if Branzy was threatened.

Parrot has changed a lot as a character through the series, but his ability to empathize has remained static. I imagine at the true climax of the story whenever that may be that Parrot will somehow come to understand that other people can and do feel the same. And I'd like to say that will be a satisfying moment, but who knows what it might take to reach that point. A lot has been lost already.

(Tldr: I think Parrot's character has Empathy Deficiency Disorder and that's why he does the most frustrating, seemingly selfish things.)

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

the problem is that it's so hard to really analyze anything about arcane, and draw any conclusions about the story, because of the way it was written and conceived in the first place.

to the people who're like "yeah season 2 was bad, but season 1 was a MASTERPIECE in story writing and PERFECT in every way", that's just not true. the cracks were already there in season 1. there's multiple things, especially overarching ones, that just don't add up, and several ways that the story progresses that seem like odd choices. the thing was that, to me, the rest of it was all so good... the small details, the contained scenes were so well done, so detailed, so touching, that i really believed that maybe those cracks were just hiccups after all, and it's not a big deal, and maybe they'll even make a lot more sense and all get tied up with a nice little bow in season 2 (ha)

to me, at this point, it seems obvious that the way season 1 came into being was that these three idiots (who should never be allowed to write anything ever again) wrote a script, that was so terrible that riot had to bring in help to fix it for them (cause they were that incapable) and then someone got handed their slop and told "save this as much as you can, but keep the main points the same", and save it THEY DID! but the overarching plot is still the original one. which is why there's this dissonance all across it.

season 1 often seems like it's trying to tell two different stories at once. the example that comes easiest to me is jinx's transformation from powder to jinx post time skip. to the people i know irl who watched it, me included, the difference between these two is jarring, to the point that it just doesn't seem realistic that powder would change that much. this is what most people's reaction to her transformation was. like, sure, she changed... but jinx is almost a completely different person. and we can sit here and analyze all we want, and say yeah, but look, in ep2 min37, powder laughs when an enforcer is hurt, so that shows that she is indeed attracted to violence even at this age, but like... first of all, im at this point fully convinced that these details were put in specifically for that, to attenuate the valley that is between powder's character and jinx's, and I also honestly feel embarrassed that i even have to do all of this at all.

other notable examples are whatever is going on between jinx and silco in their relationship. like, yeah, he was actually a good father to her... but actually, there's something weird going on between them... but actually, no... he was better than vander, but actually he was worse than vander and was actually the cause of everything bad in jinx's life..... and on, and on, because the literal story itself never actually makes up its mind on what it wants the relationship between these two characters to be. same as it never makes up its mind on whether powder was a cute, innocent kid who was just manipulated by silco, or if powder was born like that and was just looking for an opportunity to release her inner jinx. same way as it never makes up its mind on whether vi is a devoted sister, who would do anything to get powder back, as she herself says, or if she actually thinks this new enforcer chick she just met is kinda cooler, as her actual actions would indicate. does silco adopt jinx because he sees himself in her, or does he intend to use her as a weapon and then later on grows to actually care about her? there comes a point where "this is a complex story" just becomes an excuse for "we were actually working with three different ideas at once and we never really decided on which one we were gonna do and we kinda just prayed it would all work out somehow"

the one thing that arcane season 2 has on season 1 is that it doesn't suffer from any of these weird identity issues. it's bad and simplistic but it's bad and simplistic in its entirety and it doesn't ever seem interested in being anything else. the story has no continuity or congruence issues, except of course for the ghost of season 1 that haunts it, and especially haunts the writers, who so far have displayed nothing but dismay for the story that actually made this show so acclaimed, and have done all they could to bury it as much as possible in season 2.

now, personally, im a big death of the author truther. even more so in cases like these, where we're dealing with teams of people. power struggles happen in studios, and in writing rooms, and at every level of production. and these three people that have taken credit don't seem like the most emotionally (or intellectually) mature individuals.

so, to solve all these issues, just know that when im discussing or analyzing arcane, im going off the interpretation of the events that serves the story the most, and that leads to the most meaningful narrative and the one that is most worth telling. all of this weird lee and overton slop that snuck in im gonna be completely ignoring.