#this is absolutely the wrong time to post this but I want it out of my drafts

[numberonetacostan]

ONE HEADCANON FOR EVERY II CHARACTER!

Hello everyone!!!!!^^ For a little holiday season special, I’ve typed out a little headcanon for every character!!! By character I mean contestants + host + assistants!!!!! Sorry to all the Nick Le fans out there, he is not included. Since everyone is here, there are characters I may not know as well as my main roster, so if I get anything like, objectively wrong, feel free to let me know!!!^^ Please enjoy!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Apple- Her favorite song is Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. She doesn’t really understand the lyrics but she really likes ponies!!!! I also think she’d start misspelling her name as “Appell” pretty often after she finds the song. 

Balloon- The first thing Suitcase does with her prize money is buy him a poetry book. He is so very moved by this and writes her dozens of poems with various styles he sees in the book within a few days. He’d read from the book and his own works to Suitcase every night before they go to bed. Some others could join in for a nice bedtime story :). 

Baseball- Once, while the hotel was under construction, Baseball fell down the stairs. And then kept rolling. And rolling. And bouncing. And rolling some more. Overall it set construction back two weeks and Paintbrush broke their leg trying to help stop him. Baseball was banned from the hotel until the elevators were finished. 

Bomb- He can’t eat spicy food. As in he’s banned from eating spicy food. If he gets too hot, he can accidentally set himself off, so despite his claim that he has a great spice tolerance, he is not allowed anywhere near the hot sauce. He doesn’t complain about the ban anymore post-canon, too risky, yeah? 

Bow- She watches so very many makeup tutorials, but being a ghost, can’t practice any of it on herself. That is, unless she possesses someone, like Marsh who would be very easy to put makeup on relative to other objects!!! She’d probably get pretty good at it, after some time, and Marsh would have some lovely new eyeshadow looks every day! 

Knife- He has a longer ghost tail than Dough and Bow do, so I propose him wrapping said tail around people and things he likes!!! Wraps around Pickle when they’re standing next to each other, wraps around Suitcase’s handle when they’re together, etc.!!! He’d get rather flustered if anyone called him out on it. 

Lightbulb- Gives incredible hugs. Incredible. How does an object made of glass and metal give such cuddly, warm hugs? Nobody knows. Sometimes she’ll turn herself on during the hug to make it extra warm!! As long as the person she’s hugging closes their eyes, it really elevates the already sacred experience of a Lightbulb hug. Luckily for everyone else, she is always happy to give one!^^

Marshmallow- She’s still pyrophobic after having been burnt all those years ago. As a very flammable marshmallow, fire would be scary to her anyways, but after having been roasted it’s a whole other story. She’d rather freeze than get close to a fire, but that’s not a problem since there’s a certain fruit always willing to warm her up with a hug <3!!

Nickel- He became very, very, very nervous to give his apology to Suitcase after she blew up Cobs and ate his corpse. He was planning to apologize either way, but clearly Suitcase could absolutely obliterate him if she wanted to do so, which means this apology has to be quite good or else. He has a serious amount of respect for her now. An upgrade, I’d say. 

OJ- His favorite Pokémon is Charizard. It’s orange, it’s very popular, OJ loves it. I know Justin has made a list of the contestant’s favorite Pokemon, but I have not read it in a while so Charizard it is!!!

Paintbrush- Experiments a lot with their image after season 3, mostly by dyeing their bristles with paint!!! Lightbulb helps :3!!! And by helps I mean makes it silly and very fun. Maybe she puts a little dot between Painty’s eyes to give them a “nose”. I think they’d try a solid color first, then maybe a fade, and eventually dye the nonbinary flag into their hair!!! They slay it of course. 

Paper- Pickle once wrote “Property of OJ” on Paper’s back and he didn’t notice for three days. No one told him it was there. When he asked everyone why in the world they would not inform him they said it was because they all thought OJ had written it and he was keeping it because he liked it. OJ did not know why Paper avoided eye contact with him for a week that one time but he did not like it. 

Pepper- Hotel OJ head chef. Yeah you heard me. Let me cook by letting her cook!! Salt wouldn’t like cooking, too much work, so this is something Pepper could enjoy on her own!! And it would be the sole reason that OJ has not yet kicked Salt out of the hotel- if he does than Pepper might be too sad to cook, and with the depressingly low amount of hotel residents that can make food, and the even smaller amount who are willing to make enough food for everyone, they need her. And, if Payjay help out, they can spend more time with her and get to know and enjoy her presence without Salt ruining it!

Pickle- With some help from Tea Kettle and Pepper, he makes Knife a new Dora doll post-finale, since it vanished with the rest of the stuff made by MeLife. He lets Knife possess him if he wants to hug the doll, but it also gets possessed by Knife so he can hug Pickle. Ah shit sorry my Knickle got all over the headcanon dang it. 

Salt- I headcanon her as the only cisgender, straight, alloromantic (I think that’s the right term?) member of the cast. Basically the only one who isn’t queer at all. But uh an actual headcanon for the ~60 or so Salt fans out there, both she and Pepper sleep with those little hair bonnets on to keep their salt and pepper from falling out of their heads in their sleep. 

Taco- This one is fitting for the winter season!! Taco is afraid of snow. Like, straight up terrified. I think she would grab a bunch of blankets and hide in the vents of the mansion whenever it snows, so she can be inside of the inside, as far and safe from the snow as she can be!! Having been homeless for years, she’s had some miserable experiences with hypothermia after it snows, and now that she has a home to live in, she’ll be staying inside until all the snow has melted. 

Mephone- I think he should have a pet bug post-canon. A little beetle or something that just chills on his head and feasts on the many crumbs he gets on himself while he eats. An intelligent one, like Baxter!!! Since we know Mephone will be stepping up into the more ‘big brother’ sort of role for 3GS, I think the bug would be a good outlet for Mephone to talk about his more intense feelings, specifically revolving around Mepad and the contestants. I also think, following his very creative naming of the contestants, the bug would be named Buggy. 

Box- I think she would be an insomniac. After years and years of living in an empty, timeless void-space thing, she’d have a lot of trouble getting to sleep!! She’d definitely need the whole works, warm milk, cheese, lullabies, etc., etc., just to get to sleep, and even then she probably wouldn’t sleep for very long. A lot of nightmares on this one, yeah? 

Cheesy- I think he’d actually quite enjoy eating cheese, as long as it’s not a chunk like he is. He’ll eat nachos, pizza, mozzarella sticks, grilled cheese, etc., etc., but he will not eat cheese cubes. He’d make approximately 5 cannibal jokes every time he does this, and this average goes up to 8 if Pickle is around. 

Cherries- They give Toilet their old Mepad mask post-canon, to try and make him feel better. Toilet might hang out with them a bit more after this- they can do some drawing together!! The more prank-buddies, the merrier, yeah? 

Dough- He eventually did get the recording of Bow saying that he was her brother!! Was it a cut-off version of her denying it yet again (though this time more playfully than anything)? Yes. Does that make him any less happy about having it? No. 

Fan- Out of everyone, he’s the most upset about II ending, and wants to find a new special interest!! He’d try a whole bunch of things, games, music, movies, TV shows, art, and I think it would be funny if he settled on the ii-universe equivalent of Survivor, since it was such a big inspiration for II!! He’d also occupy himself with being very interested in whatever Test Tube is doing and cheering her on!!! Also being a good Dad to Bot!!^^

Microphone- Has, on occasion, accidentally had her volume button pressed in her sleep and woke not only herself but everyone in the vicinity up with her snoring. The first time it happens post-canon it takes her a half-hour to get a very startled and scared but very sleepy and confused Taco to come out from her hiding spot under the bed. 

Soap- Her soap is french vanilla and rose scented!!! She’d find her own scent rather pleasant, yeah? I think being empty for her would have a similar effect on her as it does on objects like OJ and Test Tube, though if she’s in a real pinch she will use her own soap to get clean!! Letting someone use her soap would be a sweet gesture of love/appreciation from her!!!

Suitcase- Balloon would write her a lot of poems once they’re back together post-canon, and she’d keep them all inside of her!! She’d keep a lot of special little gifts from important people inside of her. The stone that Knife set beside her the first time they spoke on the docks, a dried flower bracelet from Box, whatever suits her fancy! (Get it? Ge- ‘cause she’s a suitcase? okay ill leave).

Test Tube- I think she would make phones for everyone post-canon!!!^^ It’s a big island, yeah? And they really need to be able to contact each other in case of emergency, with them being able to truly die now. She could make a functioning rocket out of a vending machine, I fully believe she could make however-many functioning phones out of what she can find on the island. (Or even better, Mepple HQ. I think they all should loot it.)

Tissues- He likes coding :) I personally hate coding, because I sucked at it in school and never want to look at one of those evil “easy kids coding” websites ever again. HOWEVER coding is something he could still do while he’s feeling sick, most of the time!! And we have quite a few gamers living in the hotel, so it would be a great way for him to connect with others!!!

Trophy- He always enjoyed photography as a hobby, but very much threw himself into it after being freed from the elimination closet. After months of seeing nothing but the snotty closet walls, he had a lot more appreciation for scenic and natural photographs. He’d hang a lot of them on the wall of his room to look at as he sleeps, since the rooms don’t have windows. 

Yin-Yang- This one is from my partner @galacticrain!! Because I consider them my resident yin-yang expert^^ Yang isn’t actually gluten free, like he says in season 2 episode 5, he just knew that Yin would confess to the eating of Dough if he put any ounce of pressure on him to tell the truth. 

Mepad- Another cold weather hc! As a Mepple device, he doesn’t really get cold! However, during their first winter together, Toilet worries that Mepad has no winter clothing!!! He buys Mepad one of those super fluffy, pink cases. Mepad does not take it off for months, until his systems start to overheat because of it. 

Toilet- I think he would be rather curious about what having limbs is like. He wouldn’t be particularly upset about his own lack of limbs, just curious!^^ He would ask Mepad about his legs, (try to) ask Mephone about his arms, and maybe make a little doodle of himself with a lot of limbs. A biblically accurate Toilet, if you will.

Blueberry- I like to think his white eyes glow a bit. He functions best in pitch-black darkness, yeah? So imagine you’re walking in the dark and two white eyes are staring at you from the depths. He would love scaring people with it, I think. 

Bot- Hanging out with everyone post-season 3 finale and even more so post-canon, they discover that they really do love videogames, similar to what they told Cabby!! They would absolutely dominate in fighting games, and would main R.O.B. in Super Smash Bros.!!! A fellow robot with a 3 letter name? Sign them UP. 

Cabby- She is endlessly fascinated by how Taco’s arms work. They just…go back in? How? Could she pull them out backwards? Both on the same side? Could she reverse them? Taco does not know either, and the two of them spend a full day together just trying to figure out how they work. Cabby gets a lot of new info about them, and Taco in general, after that :). I’m projecting but I think Cabby would be curious too.^^

Candle- Her meditation training post-canon is what keeps like half the cast from losing their minds after everything that happens. She is very very much needed after… all that. Meditation would help her too, of course, in the way that it usually does, but being so helpful would probably make her feel better than that. 

Clover- She was once blown across the entire island because someone dropped a penny on the ground. It was a particularly shiny penny, though, and the year was one her many, many lucky numbers!!

Goo- My little fella!!! Uh obviously he and Bot would make comics together. They like to draw, he likes to write, it’s perfect!!!! They could help him condense his writing down into a comic format as well!!! They could also make fanart and fanfics together!!! Goo would be a shipper I think he already ships Silver and Painty if you sit that little guy down in front of Steven Universe he will explode. 

Lifering- With everyone losing their immortality post-canon, he quickly becomes one of the most popular among the contestants. Twisted your ankle? Go see Lifering. Migraine? Go see Lifering. Ate the mushrooms that Taco very clearly told you were poisonous? Hurry to Lifering!! He’s happy to be of so much help, but gives some long and rather informative lectures on proper safety checks. 

Silver Spoon- Fills his room with candles. Particularly purple ones. And ones scented with lavender and chamomile. He’ll go on and on about how much he loves candles. Particularly purple ones scented with lavender and chamomile. No one can tell if Candle is trying to politely turn him down or really hasn’t noticed. He progressively gets more and more obvious with his candle collection and nearly sets a building on fire. 

Tea Kettle- #1 Nickloon shipper. I’m serious. Whether they get together or not, she ships it. I don’t think she’d be pushy about it, insistent that they get together if they’re interested in other people, but… we know silly Nickel, always chasing a Balloon. And if he needs a little help catching it, TK will be there in a flash!!!! She’d make them a little romantic picnic complete with hors d’oeuvres! 

The Floor- My guy The Floor still visits Mephone almost daily post-canon. I really don’t see the guy being super upset or holding a grudge over Mephone having made him. He’s pretty cool, if he does say so himself!!^^ And they’re buddies, anyways, so Floory would want to check in on him after his abusive father killed everyone and then was exploded!!!! He might even befriend 3GS while he’s at it :).

[wardenparker]

Who Took the Merry Out of Christmas

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit for family dysfunction. This blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.7k Warnings: Post partum depression, marriage trouble, mentions of addiction, demanding family, abusive parents, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, dysfunctional family, a very sweet baby who has done nothing wrong ever, parents abusing their adult children in front of others. (There is a happy-ish ending, I promise.) Summary: It's only been a few months since Frankie came home from South America, and both of your families are bearing down on you for the holidays. A rocky marriage and even rockier relationships with your parents are bound to make for a very tense Christmas. Notes: Sorry it's not light and fluffy this year, gang. It just hasn't been a light and fluffy time. Considering how dramatic this holiday season has been, this little slice of family trauma seemed pretty appropriate.

Christmas. The time of year that is supposed to merry and bright. Well, the bright is accurate, especially in south Florida. Not a dusting of snow to be had, the palm trees in the front yard decorated with lights and the temperatures still letting everyone wear shorts and t-shirts if they wanted. It’s definitely not the white Christmas you had grown up with, but Frankie prefers this over freezing his ass off while shoveling snow off the driveway just to go to the store to get diapers.

The magic rubs off over the years. From childhood we outgrow the sparkle of the Christmas season as we stop thinking of it as magical, and now it's just another set of expectations that inevitably seems impossible to meet.

Both sides of your family had expected you and Frankie to host this year. Because of the baby, they said. Because now that you had a real family, it was time for you to take on the responsibility of holiday hosting. It's frustrating enough to be a first time mother of an eight month old. It's sleepless and difficult and Frankie has only barely gone back to work so money has been tighter than tight.

“Why don’t we just tell them that we can’t?” Frankie leans back from the sink where he’s finally shaving to look at you perched in the bed. You are tired and he knows that despite what you’ve said, hosting Christmas is the last fucking thing you need. “We have the baby. It’s a lot.”

"Because Christmas is next week, Francisco," you remind him. The baby monitor is on your nightstand, and you fiddle with it, but it's mostly a nervous habit. Mirabel wasn't a good sleeper for the first few months and you're constantly worried that she'll start having trouble again. "And they're coming here because of her. It was a miracle they didn't all fly down to cram into the delivery room when she was born, it seems mean to say they can't see her at Christmas."

“One— I wouldn’t have let them in the delivery room.” That memory was for him alone, he has absolutely loved being the first to hold his daughter. To be there to help and watch as you pushed his child into the world. “Two, shouldn’t that mean that they want to save you the stress of hosting?” He asks, leaning back in and putting the razor back to his cheek. “Hell, I say we order Chinese and be done with it.”

"I would agree." Stretching out in bed helps a lot. You've been dealing with a little hip pain lately that gets exasperated by carrying Mirabel around and you make sure to do stretches every morning and night – at least for a few minutes. "But we're in it now. Flights are booked. Meals have to be planned."

“I’ve got to mow the grass tomorrow.” He knows you will remind him of it so he goes ahead and checks it off your mental list. “And you need more mushrooms, right?” He makes a face in the mirror, hating mushrooms but you don’t seem to have picked up on that.

"Beef Wellington on Christmas is a family tradition." Your mother made it ever year from the recipe that her mother-in-law taught her, and now you make it every year for you and Frankie and however many of your friends you end up having over to dinner on the holiday. Usually it's the Miller brothers, this year might include Pope as well.

It’s good that he’s in a different room than you are so you don’t see the face that he makes. He hates the Beef Wellington, he’s just never been able to admit that. When you were dating, you could have served him a boiled shoe and he would have praised it. It was better than an MRE or the shit they served in the chow hall most days on base. And Frankie’s idea of cooking was either firing up a grill or going out to eat, so home cooked whatever was good to him. Especially when he knew he was getting laid after dinner. Now he’s stuck eating mushrooms every damn Christmas and it sucks. “I know.” He sighs, turning on the water to rinse the hair out of his razor. “I changed the sheets in the guest rooms.” He tells you. “And made sure your mom has the ‘good pillows’.” He rolls his eyes, again, happy you can’t see him because you would definitely scold him for that.

“Thank you, honey.” You know damn well he thinks it’s ridiculous and probably had a running monologue going why he made the guest beds about how picky your families are, but his parents are just as bad as yours in different ways. That’s why this holiday is going to be so fucking stressful. Part of why you work so hard to make family visits perfect is because his mother has never approved of you. “We’ll make sure everything is perfect. It will all be fine.”

Frankie hums as he finishes shaving and wipes his jaw dry. It’s a little jarring to see the smooth skin, he’s sported a patchy beard since getting out, but he’d decided that one thing he needed to do was look better after getting his pilot’s license back. He steps out of the bathroom and grins at you. “Hey baby.”

“Hey.” You say it before you look up, and when you lift your eyes you do a double take. “Clean shaven, huh? It’s been a while.”

He shrugs slightly, reaching up and rubbing his cheek lightly. “Figured your mom would complain less if I was clean shaven.” He had even gotten a haircut, not nearly as short as when he was active duty, but trimmed from the longer curls he had recently been sporting.

“Mira’s going to spend half of tomorrow poking at your face,” you predict, smiling softly. It will be the first time your daughter has ever seen him clean shaven.

He snorts. “As long as she doesn’t cry.” He slides his eyes along your body, not caring that you are in a comfy t-shirt and short, you look sexy to him. “So what are my chances of getting lucky tonight?” He asks, lifting a brow.

“Are you suddenly into somnophilia?” It proves your point that you can barely stifle a yawn. Getting up multiple times a night to pee or see what Mirabel needs takes its toll on your rest, and god knows you never ever get to sleep in anymore. Sure, you knew being a mother was going to be exhausting, but this is above and beyond that.

His playful grin slips and he shakes his head. “No baby, not if you’re too tired to enjoy yourself.” He doesn’t sigh, but he does miss the intimacy, the closeness of sex. Instead of complaining, he reaches back into the bathroom to flip off the light and starts walking towards the bedroom door. He will check the doors and downstairs windows one last time before setting the alarm, a habit of his. “You need some water or something downstairs?”

"No, I'm okay." It's not that you don't want him. He's still the same gorgeous man you married and conceived your daughter with. It isn't a matter of want. It's a matter of being so exhausted and feeling so disgusting from never having time to thoroughly shower and always ending up sweaty and sticky somehow. You don't feel like yourself, and you haven't since your second trimester.

But unloading all of that on Frankie doesn't seem fair when he's finally getting back on his feet with work and therapy and kicking his drug habit. The man doesn't even drink anymore, because he doesn't want to slip up again. So you keep your mouth shut and don't bitch about your own discomfort.

He sighs softly as he goes downstairs. Another night where he’s turned down, but he understands. You’ve been dealing with some postpartum issues and he doesn’t want to push. He just wants to make love to his wife more than once a month. It’s another reason why he had thought hosting Christmas would be a bad idea. You are already worn down and frazzled, despite Frankie sharing the load of the house and baby with you as much as he possibly could. This is just going to add more stress to your already loaded down shoulders and he doesn’t like it at all.

You turn over and slip under the covers when he goes downstairs to check the alarms. Being overwhelmed and depressed has you feeling like you're out drowning in the middle of the ocean and have suddenly forgotten how to swim. The best thing you can do right now is try to sleep.

Frankie comes back upstairs, slipping into the bed and curling around you. He hates that instead of curling against him, you huddle against your side of the bed. Wondering if you are secretly still pissed at him for the entire Coke thing. “I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes.

You love him, too. You do. And you have this whole time. It's just so hard to pull yourself out of the bottom of the ocean of your depression and uncertainty that you just pretend to be asleep and hope that you both knock out quickly.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Probably not, but maybe. After all, it can't be worse.

******

“It’s okaaaaaaay.” Frankie bounces his very upset little girl on his hip and shoves a finger in her mouth. She’s teething and of course woke up in a horrible mood. She hiccups and he grabs the teething ring to throw it back in the freezer for a little bit. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know it hurts. Believe me, it doesn’t get better when you have a cavity either.”

"But she'll have good dental hygiene and never have a cavity in her whole life." You call from the kitchen, working your ass off to make sure that each and every bit of Christmas dinner is accounted for perfectly. Frankie isn't the world's best cook by any means, but this family tradition is ingrained in your bones -- beef Wellington, scalloped potatoes, green beans with almonds, and a demi-glace gravy to make everything even richer and fancier. It's a far cry from what you normally eat but that is sort of the point. It's the holidays. This is the time to be fancy.

He snorts. “Not if she gets her teeth from my side.” He calls back. “I’m ninety percent fillings at this point.” That makes her giggle and he grins at her. “Was daddy funny?” He walks her back into the kitchen to find you frantically stirring something. “I’ve got the living room vacuumed and the egg nog is in the garage fridge.”

"Have you heard from your parents yet?" Your in-laws are always early, which is not exactly a sin but it is inconvenient. If they say they'll be somewhere at 7 then they are always there by 6:30, wondering where on earth you've been for the last half hour.

“Not yet.” He loves his mom, he really does, but he’s not blind to her persnickety nature. He’s talked to her about it but it seems like she doesn’t bother you. A wonderful thing considering she’s run off more than one girlfriend of his over the years. “You know her, she’s gonna show up when she wants to. At the most inconvenient damn time.”

“I just want to have dinner in the oven when they get here.” The Christmas after Frankie proposed, your own parents had hosted everyone and Vanessa Morales had been less than impressed when your mother was still getting things into the oven when they arrived. It apparently didn’t matter in the least that they were early.

“Roger.” He kind of treats the parents visiting like a mission, a hostile one.

“Where did the Millers end up this year?” You can’t tell if it’s better or worse to not have his friends here as a conversational buffer. Part of you is grateful for fewer people in the house and half wishes you had friends here to lean on.

“I think Will and Teresa are going to get back together.” Frankie admits. “He said him and Benny were going to have Christmas with her and her brothers.” Frankie had always liked Will’s ex-fiancée and he knew you did as well.

“Good.” That’s a relief, showcased with how easily your shoulders drop with just a touch of tension dropped. “Good. That’s…That will be really good for them. I know they’ve missed each other.”

“They have.” Frankie pauses for a second . “Ben said he was going to swing by and check on Molly and the girls.” He murmurs quietly, regret lacing his tone.

“Where is Pope spending Christmas?” It’s not necessary to express more regret over Redfly’s death. Every single one of you have shed your tears over it and you make sure to check in with Molly at least once a week just like you always have. Family that you choose means you choose each other over and over again.

“He’s still in Australia.” Frankie sighs softly. Yovanna has covered her tracks well and he’s still looking for the woman he had fallen in love with.

"Shit..." All you can really do is shake your head at that. Even if Santiago Garcia is on your shit list for inducing the entire team away to South America for weeks, what happened there wasn't really his fault. It sounds like everything that could go wrong did, and the best that you can do is be grateful that Frankie came home to you in one peace.

“Yeah.” He shuffles slightly, rocking the baby as she continues to gnaw on her first and drool all over his shirt. He knows you aren’t happy with what happened, and he’s never been able to tell you all the details.

The tentative expression on his face makes you shake your head, and you turn back to the pan you have on the stove with a sigh. "You'll tell me when you're ready." It's been months and he's still keeping the whole story from you, but you have always been patient. You have always let Frankie come to you. "Let's just not do it on Christmas Eve. Our families are almost here."

“Okay.” He knows you are upset that he won’t talk to you, but he steps closer and leans down to kiss your shoulder. “Thank you for understanding.”

He'll come to you when he's ready. And you're doing your damnedest to be patient. But it's fucking hard when you feel like you're weathering a private storm on the edge of an ocean hell bent on drowning you.

For better or for worse, that is the moment that the doorbell rings.

“It’s showtime.” Frankie mutters, trying to plaster a happy smile on his face and just managing to look constipated.

"Shit, shit." You shove two trays into the oven right away, barely able to check to make sure that everything is assembled correctly but just dying to have it all in the oven. "Okay. That's got to be your parents." Frankie has walked away with the baby, leaving you to quickly wipe down the kitchen and pray you're not smelly from the sweat you worked up preparing dinner.

Frankie opens the door, smiling when he sees his mother and stepfather standing on the porch. “You made it.” He greets them. “Made good time getting here.”

“Of course we did.” Vanessa Morales moved into the house with determination, but the first thing she does is reach for her granddaughter. “Ay, hola Gordita! Eres mucho más bonita que tus fotos.”

Suddenly feeling shy, she pulls back and buries her face in Frankie’s neck. “Está bien, es tu abuela.” He soothes, rubbing her little back. “She’s cutting another tooth.” He explains.

“Pobrecita.” Vanessa coos, not taking the baby’s cue at all. “Come give your abuela a kiss, Gordita. Dame un beso.”

Mira doesn’t like it when someone crowds her face that she’s not familiar with and she immediately starts to cry, clinging to Frankie and trying to get away from her. “Mama.” He huffs, holding her tighter and cooing softly. “Give her a few minutes to warm up to you.”

Vanessa frowns, but relents when her husband agrees with Frankie. Instead, all she says as she’s lead into the house is, “Your sister’s bebes didn’t need time to warm up.”

“Gabriella lives in the same town as you, mama.” He reminds her, rolling his eyes at her miffed reaction. “Mira has seen you twice since she was born.”

“Even so.” His mother huffs, as though it were a personal affront.

“Feliz Navidad, Vanessa.” You come out of the kitchen a second later with your face freshly washed just to give yourself a boost and offer your in-laws a smile. “Hi, Javier. It’s nice to see you both.”

“There’s my favorite daughter-in-law.” Javier might just be a step-parent, but he has always thought that Francisco had chosen the best woman for him, despite what his wife might say. Vanessa is prickly, and while he might find that attractive since he’s a self-confessed asshole, he tries to make you feel accepted when he’s around. He steps around Vanessa to pull you in for a hug.

“Feliz Navidad, Javi.” The extra moment of consideration from your husband’s stepfather is dearly appreciated, and you accept the hug whole-heartedly. “How’s things?”

“Same.” He doesn’t mind slightly offending Frankie, so he kisses your y forehead and leans back to wink at you. He was a ladies man back in the day and still a silver fox, so it’s always fun to raise the hackles of the man he loves like his own son. Just for shits and giggles. “Better now that I’m around three beautiful ladies.” He turns that charming smile on Mira and leans in. “This one most of all.”

He earns a full belly laugh from his granddaughter and you feel yourself breathe just a little easier. Javier in a good mood bodes well for the night. “Can I offer you both something to drink? Vanessa?”

“I don’t suppose you have wine,” Vanessa manages to make it sound vile, to not have wine in the house. “Actually, mom, she picked up a bottle of your favorite sangria.” Frankie pipes up.

“Let me get you a glass.” The atmosphere is already frigid but that’s just how it’s always been between the two of you. Thank God she doesn’t know about the coke or she’d surely find a way to blame you for Frankie’s addiction issues, too. Just like she’s blamed you for everything else she deems wrong with her only son’s life.

“Javi?” Frankie lifts a brow towards his stepfather. “You want a whiskey? I’ve got a bottle in the den.”

“Good man.” Javi commends, and clasps his stepson on the back as they disappear into the other room together.

Vanessa turns towards you expectantly and pulls a tight smile. “When will dinner be ready?” She asks. “Assuming you’ve started cooking, of course.”

It’s too much for how exhausted you are, and even being prepared doesn’t make it okay. Without a buffer, Vanessa aims all of her venom at you endlessly. “It will be ready in an hour. No need to worry.” And the sooner your own parents get here the better — not that they’re perfect by any means.

“You look tired.” It’s not an observation born out of concern, but criticism. “You should really put a bit of effort in.” She hums. “Fransisco deserves that, doesn’t he?”

Yes. He does. But your husband of six years is also well aware of how much work raising a newborn is. Which is why you just smile and bite back how much his mother's constant nitpicking bothers you. "Your son prefers a natural look," you inform her as politely as you can without snapping. "No make up. So that I always look like myself."

She can’t possibly argue with that, because it would mean insulting her precious baby boy. Instead she just looks around like she’s never seen the place and starts to wander off towards the kitchen.

You’re debating whether or not you need to follow her when the doorbell rings. It’s still a touch too early for your parents to arrive — they shared their location with you so you could track their driving route on your phone from the airport. It should be ten more minutes until they arrive.

“I’ll get it!” You call, wondering if Frankie heard the doorbell in the den, and head back to the front.

“That must be her parents.” Frankie sighs and looks longingly at the bottle of whiskey but he knows he can’t have any. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to Mira.

“Save it for later.” Javi advises. “When your mama’s gone to bed and the baby is down, and you can relax with your wife.” It seems like Frankie is struggling more than he has let on, but there isn’t time to talk about that now. “Go say hi to your in-laws. I can take Mira if she’s okay with it.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much convincing on either man’s part for Mira to go to her abuelo. Immediately little fingers dig into the hair covering his upper lip and Frankie chuckles. “She doesn’t understand why I don’t have facial hair today.” He explains.

“She can play all she wants.” Javi laughs, bouncing the little girl in his arms. “I got her, Frankie. Go on.”

It’s almost jarring to the aloof and broody man he had spent his teenage years around laughing and chortling at a baby, but Frankie smiles at the sight before turning to see about mitigating the next disastrous arrival.

You’re already at the door, half-smiling and half-bewildered as your parents hand off a bag full of wrapped presents to you like a butler and chatter away as they enter.

“It’s good to see you dear.” Your mother hums, “our trip here seemed to take forever.” She opens her mouth to once again suggest that you move back home and Frankie comes in to greet them.

“It isn’t exactly a short flight.” You can acknowledge that, and it’s why your parents don’t visit more often. Your dad isn’t up to that much traveling anymore. “I’m glad we’re able to spend Christmas with you.”

“So are we.” The problem in Frankie’s eyes about his in-laws spending Christmas with you is that they treat the house like a hotel and you like staff for the visit. They don’t Think they should lift a finger for themselves. “Hey, glad you made it.” He gives them a polite smile and nods at your father before holding out his hand to shake it.

“Francisco.” Even after a decade together, your father still refuses to call your husband by his nickname. He shakes Frankie’s hand with unnecessary force, like usual, and grunts with approval. “How’s things?”

“Going well, sir.” Despite the difficulties raising a child, he knows voicing that to your parents would do neither of you any good. “And you?”

“Retirement is boring.” Your father gripes good-naturedly. “Thinking about finding something part tune just to get out of the house and avoid the nagging at home.”

Frankie snorts. “Yeah I could see how that would be a little overwhelming for you.”

"Never stop working, if you can help it." The older man claps Frankie on the shoulder like he's doling out the sagest advice in the world. "She'll be fine with the baby. But the second you're home for more than twenty minutes an extra day? You'll have a Honey Do list longer than your arm."

Frankie doesn’t mind spending time with his daughter and cleaning up around the house that is also his responsibility but he just hums. “That’s some advice.” He makes it sound like he agrees just to keep the peace. You need help with things and his father-in-law’s outlook is a little old fashioned for him.

“You’ll thank me for it,” your father advises, and gives Frankie another friendly-if-condescending pat on the arm before walking away in search of whatever it is he wants but hasn’t asked for yet. Presumably to find his wife, but that’s an assumption.

“Jesus.” Frankie sighs and turns to start taking jackets and bags from you. “I’ll get their bags to their room.” He grins. “Do I get a tip?”

“Does a kiss count?” Just because you’re both exhausted and you haven’t been in the mood for sex doesn’t mean you don’t love your husband or appreciate the things he does to help you.

“The best kind of tip.” He vows, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss before pulling away. You seem to shy away from physical displays when your parents are around. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, honey.” Having him jump on board to help means everything, but you frown a second later. “Where’s the baby? I thought I put her playpen away.”

“She’s with Javier.” He smirks slightly. “Old man apparently still has it with the ladies.”

"Well, that's something, at least." Something that his mother is going to hate – that the baby hid from her and went straight to her abuelo instead. "I'm going to pour drinks for people and get the shrimp cocktail out of the fridge so everybody can focus on food instead of bickering."

“I’ll be there as quickly as I can dump these in their room.” He promises, you having already determined which room your parents are staying in.

But as fast as Frankie can move in spite of his bad back, it isn’t fast enough. By the time you walk into the kitchen you find all four of your collective parents staring at each other like it’s a stand off at the O.K. Corral.

“How about a little appetizer?” You ask, after a few seconds of trying to read the room and finding the stony silence completely impenetrable. The only thing you care about is keeping them reasonably civil and having your little girl back in your arms. “Thanks for hanging on to her, Javier.” You offer him a smile when you take her back.

“Oh that’s no problem at all.” Mira giggles at him and leans in to cuddle against his chest, making him smile proudly. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for this little beauty.”

“You wanna stay with abuelo, sweetheart? You go right ahead.” It leaves your hands free, and you’re grateful to have that for a few more moments. So instead of extracting your baby girl from her grandparent, you kiss her curls and cross to the refrigerator to retrieve the tray of shrimp cocktail you put together this morning. “Can I get anyone a drink? Or a refill?”

“Since we are already starting with the alcohol, I would like some wine.” Your mother eyes the glass of whatever is in Vanessa’s hand and tuts slightly. “White of course, red wines are too heavy for me.”

This is what holidays are. What family gatherings are. What they always are and why you dread them so much. Conversation can never seem to be civil, no one ever offers to help. Frankie is always putting out proverbial fires with all four parents while you work to be the perfect hostess but it’s never even enough to keep the peace. Everyone leaves feeling worse than when they came and yet they still insist on seeing the two of you. It’s enough to make you want to flee the scene, but you would never give your mother-in-law the satisfaction of seeing you run scared. It would only cement her low opinion of you.

So you pour drinks and serve appetizers, plastering the smile on your face and eventually taking Mirabel back from Javier just for utter relief of having your daughter back in your arms. By the time Frankie comes back downstairs, the doorbell rings again. Oh god, is all you can think, because you’re not expecting anyone else. What fresh hell is this?

Frankie frowns slightly, exchanging a confused look with you. “I’ll get it.” He promises, slightly caught off guard and wary by the unexpected arrival of someone else. Not that a fucking drug cartel would ring the doorbell. A firebomb through the window would be more their style.

The impatient chimes ring twice more before Frankie makes it across the house, not because it takes long but because of the insistent person on the other side. If your mother wasn’t already inside you would have guessed it was her without hesitation.

“Coming!” The friendly tone that Frankie adopts does stop him from reaching into the entry way dresser and pulling out the snub nosed .38 he keeps in there for just this occasion. He tucks it into the back of his pants before opening the door to find that it’s not necessary. “Benny!”

“Hey man.” Benny is grinning from ear to ear when he leans in the doorway to embrace his friend, slapping Frankie on the back in the process. “Sorry to drop in, but did you get Pope’s text?”

“Haven’t had time to look at my phone.” He hugs Ben Miller back just as hard as the bastard tries to squeeze him after the back slapping. “Everything okay?” He asks that quietly, since you have company and you don’t know about what happened in South America.

“Yeah.” Benny nods like a bobble head, immediately ready to reassure his friend. His brother. “He’s back. Brought Yovanna with him. He was texting around for a ride and a place to crash.”

“Holy shit, he found her.” He had his private doubts about tracking the lover he had sent to Australia down, but he’s happy for Pope. “And you decided to play Uber.”

Benny grins, wide and unapologetic, before standing aside with a flourish. “Special delivery!”

The shorter man grins but he doesn’t rush to embrace Frankie. A little unsure of how he will be greeted, but Frankie bursts out laughing “Cabron!” He huffs, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around his brother in arms.

“Feo.” Pope returns the hug easily, not caring that he holds his best friend a moment longer these days than he might have before. Shit’s changed, after all. “You remember Yovanna?” He knows that everything about that trip is burned into Frankie’s brain just like the other guys, but it seems the polite way to go about reintroducing them.

She seems nervous, hesitant. He knows that Pope had to have told her what happened to Tom. "Sure." He nods and flashes her a smile before he moves out of the doorway. "Come in. Please."

"Lotta cars here..." Pope observes, though 'a lot' is only two besides the cars that are supposed to be here.

"We'll see you guys tomorrow." Benny waves as he jogs back to his truck. Everybody is with family today and that includes him, because Will is the only member of this damn group that can cook worth a damn somewhere other than a grill.

“Thanks Ben!” He knows that Mira can sleep in the bassinet in your bedroom and he can pull down the Murphy Bed you both had decided to keep in there for those late, rough nights with the baby. “Take your shit up to the bedroom next to mine.” He tells him with a smirk. “I’ll let my mother know you are here.”

"Nessa's here?" Pope brightens measurably as he whisks Yovanna into the house. "Christmas with the fam, man. I'm telling you. This is going to be great."

He snorts as he closes the door. Hopefully this won’t make you feel even more overwhelmed than you already have been.

"Frankie!" You call from the kitchen, and he can hear shuffling chairs and footsteps. "Who is it, honey?"

“Well, uh—”

“Hoooooooney, I’m hooooome.” In typical, dramatic fashion, Pope swoops into the room with a broad grin, although he’s not directing it at you since you might actually hit him for that shit earlier this year. Instead, he aims that charm at Vanessa. “I heard the most beautiful lady this side of the border was here and I had to come.”

"Aye, Santiago mijo!" After a lifetime of being best friends with her only son, Vanessa looked at Santiago Garcia as being the baby boy she never had. She disregards everything else in the room to go and hug him, but for a single moment you're actually grateful for that. It gives you the time you need to catch your breath after your heart stops at the sight of your husband's best friend. The one who supposedly was still in Australia.

“There she is!” Pope shoots you a quick glance and an even quicker wink before he is folding Frankie’s mom into a tight hug. He knows that you and your mother-in-law don’t get along, and hopefully you won’t kick him out on his ass in exchange for distracting her from harassing you.

Immediately, Vanessa is fawning over Santi instead of picking on the fact that you haven’t dressed your baby girl specifically in pink. It’s so much of a relief to see him alive and well in your kitchen that you barely register anything else — and it takes you a second before you register the gorgeous woman standing anxiously in the doorway. Mira tucks her little face against your shoulder at the sight of a stranger, but you just at your daughter’s back and gently step closer. “You must be Yovanna?”

"Sí, I mean, yes." She knows that you and Frankie speak Spanish, but she also knows that she's in the United States, so practicing speaking English is necessary. Her eyes flicker between you and Frankie before she nods. "You must be the wife that is the best thing that ever happened to Francisco." After Pope had found her again, he had started telling her everything that he couldn't before. The flight from Australia filled with stories and names. "You're not Molly, right?" She asks, embarrassed that your name isn't quite coming to her. "That was the rude one's wife."

You tell her your name and disregard the comment about Tom because it’s accurate. You and Redfly never got along but you do try to respect the dead, so you won’t badmouth him now. “We’ll introduce you to Molly tomorrow, if you and Santi are going to be around. We always do a post-holiday thing with the team.”

"I think we are going to find a house?" She admits, shrugging slightly because she doesn't really mind where she is. As long as her brother is safe and she gets to be with Santiago. "That is what he was talking about."

“I’m glad to hear it.” To have him nearby and settled will do wonders for Frankie. He’s missed Pope and missed having his lifelong best friend close at hand. As much as you love each other and as much as you will always work to keep each other supported and happy, there is a part of him that isn’t quite full or right without Pope around. It’s the same way you feel about your own best friend. “Well, um…” Taking a second to grin at your bashful daughter, you turn slightly so the baby can see Yovanna over your shoulder. “This is Mirabel. She’s princess of the palace, and just…welcome. Merry Christmas. Dinner is in the oven and there’s plenty to drink.”

"I am sorry for intruding." She offers, smiling at the baby. "I hope it is not too much?"

“The team is family.” And sometimes family can be exhausting. Sometimes family can be troublesome. But family means doing the work. Which is exactly why you didn’t tell your parents to get stuffed over hosting this Christmas even though you’re exhausted and overwhelmed. “At the holidays, family is always welcome,” you tell her with certainty.

"He did not know how you would accept him." She admits softly, happy that he had been wrong about you being put off by him bringing your husband into the mess he had. "But it is good you have not had any problems since Lorea was killed."

“We haven’t,” you assure her quietly. “It’s the secret that we keep to make sure the boys are safe, and thankfully we have been safe.” For Santi? You can only shake your head and shrug while you bounce Mira in your arms. “I’ve over being upset with him, though it did take a while. Now? I’m just glad you’re both safe. That my husband came home to me. And that he won’t be doing anything like that ever again.”

“I understand.” She agrees. “It was stupid for them, for me. But at least they are home safe now.”

“Our families don’t know anything about it,” you tell her, not admitting for the moment that all you know is the name Lorea and that people had died. Two facts which Frankie had only told you so you could gauge your own safety if you were ever approached by someone who claimed to know him or know about what happened on that mission. You hadn’t asked more and he hadn’t offered, and since you had still been upset with him for going at all, it had never been brought up again.

Yovanna tilts her head in curiosity but she doesn’t comment on it. It’s very obvious that you don’t know the details and she doesn’t think that it’s her place to tell you about it. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She asks. “Since we are showing up unannounced.”

“Get settled and help yourself to a drink or an appetizer,” you offer, motioning to the small table on the other side of the kitchen counter. It’s where you and Frankie usually eat, especially with it being easy for placing Mira’s high chair, but tonight dinner will be served in the formal dining room. Which makes the little kitchen table a perfect apps-and-drinks table. “Welcome.” There will be plenty to talk about. More than plenty. But right now you refocus your attention. It’s time to give Mira a bottle and set her down for a nap, which will hopefully mean that she sleeps through the setting of the table and even the eating of dinner.

Everyone has been chatting, or at least Santiago has been distracting his mother while your father and Javi chat amiably. Your mother is fusing with something, one of the sides you had already prepared. Tasting it and adding something to it. He wants to stop her, but then he will just be told he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the kitchen, so he decides to not fight that battle today.

"I'm going to feed Mira," you tell Frankie as you slip past him in the kitchen. It will be a much-needed moment of relative quiet and you aren't going to pass it up. "I'll just go upstairs so I can feed her and put her down without fussing with a bottle. Is that okay?"

“You do that, babe.” He reaches out and squeezes your shoulder supportively. “I’ll try to keep everyone from killing each other.” It’s a large task, but hopefully he will be able to do it.

"Santi can help." It's not a suggestion that will take much pressing. Your quiet, introspective husband's best friend is a magnet for attention even without trying. "I'll be back down in a little bit. If you need me sooner, I have my phone on me. Just send an SOS text."

"I won't need it." He promises foolishly, unaware that the mothers will start in on him individually just as soon as he walks back into the kitchen.

"Good luck," you hum under your breath, before whisking your daughter off up the stairs.

"Francisco, be a dear and run this upstairs." Your mother's purse, one that she had earlier insisted that she needed to keep on her, now needs to be put in her room. She waggles the bag at him impatiently when he doesn't immediately jump to take it.

"She can do that, can't she?" Vanessa looks around, not even using your name to refer to you, and frowns after a moment. "Where did she go, Frankie? She should be taking care of her guests."

"She's feeding Mira, mama." He explains. "You remember what it's like to have a hungry, tired baby." He frowns slightly at her and takes the purse. "I'll take it upstairs, it's not a problem."

"So she took her away to feed her?" Vanessa clutches the pearls she isn't wearing. "One of us could have easily given her a bottle! She's teaching our granddaughter to hate us right away. Pobrecita Mirabel."

"She's breastfeeding." He huffs out. "Plus, she's putting her to bed."

"We're mothers too." To Frankie's surprise, your own mother chimes in, in support of Vanessa's viewpoint. "We can give a bottle just as easily as anyone else."

The look that your father shoots Frankie is apologetic at best but he says nothing, only drinks from his glass and turns to say something to Santiago, whom he vaguely remembers from your wedding. It's just about the least helpful atmosphere in the world but at least he isn't adding to the fire.

He shakes his head and doesn’t point out the glaringly obvious fact that if you are sticking your boob in his daughter’s mouth, then they couldn’t just as easily fed her, but it’s not worth the argument. Instead he turns around and hustles upstairs to deposit the bag at the foot of their guest bedroom.

It isn't exactly an ideal day. For anyone, it seems. But the only way out is through so he heads right back downstairs again once that is taken care of. When he comes back to the kitchen it's your father at the stove that catches his eye this time, but again Frankie doesn't say anything on that point. There's no use rocking the boat. Not now that his stepfather has most of the room entertained with a work story and no one is complaining at the moment.

"Oh damn." Your mother huffs, waggling the bottle. " We are out of wine." She raises her eyebrows at Frankie. "Will you be a dear and get another?"

"Is there another?" His mother asks, as if it was necessary to make the request any more irritating.

"Of course, mama." The implication that you didn't prepare well for today doesn't sit well with him, and Frankie heads straight out to the garage to get more of the wine that had been specifically bought for today.

You had bought an entire case. The sight of it makes Frankie smirk with pride. "That's my girl." He hums as he grabs another bottle. Hopefully this means that both mothers will get drunk enough that they won't be able to nitpick you.

It's a hope, as in vain as it might be, and when Frankie goes back into the house he finds things much as he left them. He refills both mothers' wine glasses and then ends up fetching the scotch from the den again for the fathers. It's constant back and forth, not able to sit and talk to Pope or to Yovanna, or even remember where he puts his own drink while he makes sure everyone else is settled.

"Goddamn." He mutters to himself. It's almost as if it's coordinated. Like a family who keeps a server running for their table by requesting something new every time they come back.

And it stays that way until the second you come back downstairs, baby monitor in hand, and sniff the air with a growing look of horror and panic on your face. "Shit. Shit!" You race to the oven with tears already stinging your eyes to find smoke and the smell of burning food coming from your finnicky, ill-behaved oven.

“What?” Frankie rushes back from den where he had been sent to dig out the bottle of bitters after Javi offered to make his father-in-law the best old fashioned he had ever drank. The bottle had been pushed to very back of the cabinet where the liquor was locked up and he had been half convinced it had been thrown out. “What’s wrong?”

"This!" When you drop the oven door open, a cartoonish cloud of smoke billows out. The once gorgeous-looking beef Wellington that you took such tender care to assemble is blackened beyong recognition when you pull the pan out and let it drop onto the stove top like a brick.

It's ruined. Completely and entirely. And you can feel your mother-in-law watching you while she picks out her preferred insult.

“Shit.” Frankie knows how much you have been anticipating this dinner. You hadn’t specifically said to look in on the damn thing but he feels guilty. “Babe, I’m so sorry.”

"I don't know how—" With your shoulders hunched and tears making your voice wobble, you pull the other pan out of the oven to find that the potatoes are scorched as well. Half of dinner is completely ruined. "I've made this a dozen times before!" Sure your oven isn't the best, but replacing it is expensive and you have just learned to live with how it cooks. But nothing like this has ever happened before. "How? How did this happen?"

“Well, you had the oven set to low.” Your mother offers and Vanessa nods. “You cannot possibly cook your little beef thing when it is set so low.” Your mother-in-law adds most helpfully. “I noticed it and asked your mother, so we turned it up for you. I’m sure that you are just too overwhelmed with things to have noticed.”

“It was set low on purpose.” You turn again, this time look at the temperature setting on the oven, and feel yourself deflate when the digital read out says 425F. “Our oven runs hot,” you explain to them, so upset that you’re physically shaking while tears stain your cheeks. They push in and they treat you like shit and then they ruin things and yet they’re still acting like you’re the one who is incompetent. “If you had just asked, I would have told you why it was set low. You’ve essentially set my oven to over 500 degrees and burnt half of dinner because you didn’t think i knew what I was doing.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Your mother gives you a bewildered hurt expression and covers her heart like you are attacking her. Frankie moves over to you and sighs softly as he sees the burnt remnants of the meal you had worked so hard on. “Why have you bought a new oven?” She demands. “Your husband is a pilot. He should be taking care of these things.”

“You should have asked, Mom.” But of course she didn’t. Your mother is the queen of that ‘Mother Knows Best’ attitude and has never admired to being wrong in your whole life. “Being a pilot doesn’t make him a millionaire, and we’ve got the baby. Life is expensive right now. We’ve been saving up like reasonable people.”

Vanessa bristles at the implication that there is something lacking in her baby boy but Santiago sees that as well and quickly steps in to distract her. “It’s being taken care of.” He assures your mother but she huffs and shakes her head. Which makes Vanessa snap her head to the side. “Don’t you dare think ill about Francisco.” She hisses. “He works all the time to make sure your daughter stays home. He’s working himself to death.” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Mama. Stop.” He ordered, feeling like this is getting out of hand. “It’s true. You don’t think I know you called Javi to borrow money?” She demands.

"I work from home, Vanessa. I don't sit around on my ass all day doing nothing!" True that you took your maximum maternity leave, but you had damn well needed it. Postpartum healing took its toll and the depression that went with it had hit you hard. And after Frankie had come back with so many secrets? Well, it's not as if your home life is all sunshine and roses right now.

"Then why does—"

"It doesn't matter why, Mom. It's only our business." None of them need to know about what happened with Frankie's license or anything else. It's not as though they have ever offered to help or support you before so you're not about to share your troubles with them now.

“But—”

“ENOUGH!” Frankie nearly bellows the order, making your mother jump and snap her mouth shut, eyes wide in near fear. Your father looks down at his glass guiltily and even his own mother gasps as she presses a hand to her chest. Only Javi looks somewhat amused by the entire thing, a small smirk of approval twisting his lips. “I don’t give a damn that you drove for hours or flew here to see us for Christmas.” He seethes. “This is our house and I am not going to put up with you mistreating my wife.” His eyes narrow as he turns towards his mother and then towards his mother-in-law. “Either one of you. You don’t like it? Leave.” His tone is stony and flat, leaving no room for argument.

Pope and Yovanna are dead silent in the corner, not willing to meddle in family drama when they've only just arrived, and three of the four parents exchange appalled looks.

"We didn't raise you to be so disrespectful." Your mother snaps, standing from her chair with steam practically pouring out of her ears. "Or to be a terrible cook. Go get our things. We're going to a hotel until you come to your senses."

“Go get them your goddamn self.” Frankie snaps back. “And you aren’t welcomed back until you apologize to her.” That’s one set of parents he’s pissed of completely, so he turns to his mom. “Mama? You gonna be nice or is it gonna be more passive aggressive bullshit comments? Because if it is, you can get the fuck out too.”

"I have never made a passive aggressive comment about--" she begins, but Javier actually laughs at her pious pearl clutching.

"Nessa, that's all you've said to your poor daughter-in-law for years." He tells her bluntly. "Come on. I'll get our stuff." Vanessa looks absolutely appalled, but Javier just shrugs. "Prove me wrong," he insists. "Apologize."

Frankie waits, brows raised and he actually hopes for a moment that his mother will apologize. Her mouth opens and she starts talking, making his heart sink.

“She should—”

“Nope.” He cuts her off, a disappointed look on his face. “I should have put my foot down years ago. That’s my fault. Until you apologize to her, and mean it, you aren’t welcomed in our lives.” He tells her, even though it breaks his heart. “You’re my mother and I love you. But this is my wife. The woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The woman I love. You would have never put up with the kind of shit you give her out of Javi’s dad.” He reminds her. “And I’m done having her cry when you leave.” He nods towards the door. “Merry Christmas. Now I’d like you to leave.”

The stone-silent kitchen is a staring contest for long moments while Frankie’s mother realizes that her son is actually giving her an ultimatum. With a dramatic huff, she pushes out of her seat and storms to the door, shouting something about how his sister would never treat her like this. She shouts so loud that the sound of the baby crying bleeds through the baby monitor and cuts down the stairwell, but when you let out your own wretched, exhausted sob, Frankie stops you.

“I’ve got her.” He promises, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders. “I want you to pour yourself a big glass of wine and go upstairs and get into a bath.” He knows how much you love to soak in the tub, but you haven’t had much of a chance to do that since Mirabel was born. “I’ll take care of everything.”

"I have to figure out what the hell to make for dinner," you insist, intermittently glancing back between Pope and Yovanna, and toward the stairs where your baby girl is screaming.

“I’ll handle it.” Frankie implores, lifting his brows. “Trust me, baby. Go upstairs. I’ve got this.”

"I'm so sorry." The entire day has collapsed and it feels like it's your fault. Despite the fact that you were actively sabotaged and abused for the last hour – only an hour! – it still feels like you failed.

“It’s not your fault.” This comes from Javier, sighing softly as he glances at the two of you. Your mother and father are still upstairs, rummaging around after leaving the kitchen quietly in the face of Frankie’s ultimatum. “Don’t be sorry. Let your husband take care of you.” He looks at his step-son. “I’ll read her the riot act.” He promises.

"You're the only one I wish could stay," you admit to your father-in-law with a deflated shrug, but lean into your husband's side for a moment and just breathe Frankie in. "Okay. I'm going to have a wine bath. Whatever else we end up doing for dinner, there's a huge salad in the refrigerator and a tray of Christmas cookies in the pantry."

“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head before he pulls away to grab the monitor. “Big glass of wine.” He reminds you before he looks over at Pope and Yovanna. “You two good?”

"We're good." Pope nods, but he's already out of his chair and moving to wash his hands. Even after being gone for a few years, he still knows this house and these people as well as anything else in the world. "Go take care of your baby girl. We'll be ready to help when you get back."

“Thanks man.” He nods towards Javi and then rushes out of the room. “Daddy’s coming, Mira.” He calls out. “It’s okay.”

"It's...not usually like this." It's the best you can do to reassure Yovanna when you come out of the pantry again with a bottle of your preferred white wine and a large glass. That bottled sangria that Vanessa likes is garbage, no matter what she pretends.

“It is okay.” She promises. “Family can be difficult.” She smiles, knowing how often her brother puts her in hard situations.

"I'll...be back in a little bit." The idea of a glass of wine in a bath is basically unheard of in your life now and it's something you used to do at least once a week. The chance to relax and feel like you get to start the day over again is incredibly welcome.

"Take your time, hermana." Pope insists. "Take the bottle with you, if you want. We've got this."

With Mira, Frankie has her up on his shoulder, rocking her soothingly. “It’s okay. Shhhhhhh shhhhhhh.” He shushes softly, angry at his mother for not caring about waking his daughter up. She hiccups and starts to quiet down, not needing a bottle or a diaper, just some comfort. “It’s gonna be alright.” He promises, to both her and himself.

He can hear you in the hallway, light steps on the way to the master bathroom so that you don’t make more noise and disturb Mirabel any more than she already is.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall back asleep, although he spends precious minutes carefully laying her back down and making sure she stays asleep. Smiling softly when she shoves her thumb in her mouth as she sleeps. He creeps out of the room and back downstairs as he hears the water start to run from the master en-suite.

“Okay.” Pope is standing in the kitchen with a tied off trash bag sitting near the garage door and the two pans formerly full of burned food now scraped out and refilled with steaming, soapy water. “What’s the plan?” He asks, nodding to Yovanna beside him. “What can we do to help?”

“I’ve got some steaks in the freezer.” It’ll only take twenty minutes to thaw them. “If you want to go fire up the grill, I’ll pull them out.”

"Heard that." Thankfully the stunning Florida weather guarantees a warm Christmas with perfect grilling weather, and Pope heads outside immediately. He can have that grilled fired up and ready in no time.

"I can help, too." Yovanna insists. She would feel awful to not help out under any circumstances, but especially now. "Anything, Francisco. I'm happy to."

“There’s salad, but I know there’s also a carton of mushrooms.” Frankie explains. “Will you slice them and an onion to sauté?” He asks. “She loves onions and mushrooms on her steak.”

"Absolutely." A relatively small task that will make all the difference to someone who is having a hard day? She is more than happy to do what he asks. The three of them set to work immediately and within half an hour the smell of burnt pastry and potatoes is replaced with grill smoke and sauteed aromatics.

You come downstairs in clean, comfortable clothes with a glass of wine in your system, smelling like a bath bomb and looking like you're just starting a brand new day. When Yovanna is in the kitchen with a sautee pan instead of Frankie or Pope, you have to sit with your embarrassment for a moment.

"I'm sorry for...before. That wasn't the first impression that I wanted to make."

“The men are outside.” She tells you with a smile. “The salad looks gorgeous but Francisco said you like onions and mushrooms on your steak.” She explains. “And do not worry. I am just happy that you look more relaxed now.”

"Much." You huff out a laugh, feeling sheepish about the whole thing. "Families at the holidays..."

"Are always pretending to get along?" She laughs. "It is the same everywhere."

"Well...thank you, again." If you knew her better you might go so far as to give her the giant hug of gratitude that you would like to, but that will keep for later in the day. For now the two of you exchange knowing smiles about how ridiculous families can be and you go out the sliding door to the patio where Frankie and Santi are standing at the grill inspecting the image of your sleeping daughter on the baby monitor.

“I’m telling you man, she’s gonna be a problem when she gets older.” Pope huffs. “We need to start scaring away the boys now.”

"What if she grows up to like girls?" Of course they're already in protective mode. That doesn't surprise you in the least. "Or maybe she won't want romance at all. Anything is possible."

“Yeah but the boys can get her pregnant.” He points out, lifting a brow at Frankie’s immediate frown. “Well that’s not happening since she’s going to stay a virgin.” The overly protective father scoffs.

"She's going to be educated on her body and consent, and she's going to have the unwavering support of her parents," you correct them both. But there is still a soft smile on your face when you tuck yourself under Frankie's arm. "And if all else fails, she has Uncle Pope, Uncle Ironhead, and Uncle Benny to scare off anyone who doesn't respect her."

“What about me?” Frankie huffs as he settles his arm at your waist and hauls you closer. You look relaxed, and he’s glad. “How are you feeling, baby?” He asks.

"A little better. Pretty stupid, but better." When you lean into his chest he presses a kiss to your hair and you sigh. "Think our mothers are ever actually going to apologize?"

“If they don’t, we will have peace.” His eyes slip closed and he smiles slightly. “The dream.” He jokes before he opens his eye and looks at you seriously. “They will eventually. When they realize we are serious.”

"No contact with all of our parents except Javier." Another huffed laugh from you ends in a sigh. "Merry Christmas, I guess. Is it bad that I feel relieved?"

“We are having Christmas ribeye’s, with that salad you made, you can have your onions and mushrooms, and I know you have those rolls in there.” He grins. “Washed down with your wine and Christmas cookies.”

"Well...Mira is having a bottle the rest of the day anyway. No reason not to enjoy." With your arms around his waist, you tug Frankie tighter and practically shudder with that sigh of relief that rocks out of you. "Thank you, baby. I know neither of us ever wanted it to come to that with our parents, but thank you for stepping in. And for taking care of things afterward."

“Of course.” He knows that your trust and faith in him has been shaken by the drug charges and then disappearing to South America, but he wants to rebuild it. “Anytime, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” That, thankfully, was never in doubt.

******

A year passes with so much incident that it is a task of its own to decide where to start when someone asks you 'what's been going on?'. Planning the next Christmas is easier simply because of logistics. Hosting doesn't feel daunting when the people who are coming to the house are supportive, helpful, and kind.

Dinner is a potluck this year, with all the boys from Frankie's unit bringing their partners. Even Benny has a girlfriend – one who promises she's capable of bringing more to a potluck than jarred salsa and bagged chips – and Frankie is once again going to grill ribeyes. New traditions are falling into place, but the fact is that you're actually looking forward to things this year instead of dreading them.

“Babe.” Frankie ducks into the kitchen to admire the new oven that he had delivered six months ago. “Do you want to do that mashed potato casserole you were talking about or do you want to do baked potatoes this year?”

"Why don't we do baked potatoes and we can put out a bar of toppings and stuff? I can throw some bacon in a pan and chop some scallions." Things are better. You're talking more. You're listening to each other and asking questions instead of assuming. Frankie even comes home early from work once every other week to look after Mira while you have therapy. It's helped your postpartum depression immensely.

“That sounds good.” He agrees, grinning at you. “Pope and Yovanna are going to bring the salad this time. She loves that dressing recipe you gave her.”

"It's a good one." Yovanna has fast become a close friend, joining the sisterhood you have with Teresa, and now with Benny's girlfriend Roseanne. "Everybody should be here pretty soon. I figured there was no use in pretending this is formal. We're all perfectly happy to sit around together and hang out."

“Have you heard anything?” He asks softly, aware that you might have some feelings about everything that went down last year.

"Only from Javier." Frankie's stepfather was the only one who had been in contact, and even that was respectfully sparse. "I've sent him some photos of Mira and he texted this morning to say Merry Christmas and that he hoped the package he sent got here in time."

Even though you have been remarkable about the silence, Frankie steps closer and folds you into his arms for a reassuring hug. “It’ll all work out, baby.” He promises. “I just love seeing you excited for Christmas.”

“It’s easier to be excited when I’m not dreading the arguments and insults.” You lean into him a little tighter and sigh. It’s shit that things had to blow up the way they did last year, but things are better now. You’re both happier. The boys are all back together and Pope had proposed to Yovanna at Thanksgiving. Will and Teresa are ecstatic about expecting their first kid together. Things are good. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“I love you too.” He murmurs softly, kissing your forehead. He had told you everything that had happened and while you were unhappy about it, you hadn’t held it against him. That’s the best gift he could have ever asked for. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[hummingbird-games]

2024 in Review (Indie Games)

2023 | 2022 | 2021

Helloooo gamer friends!!!

I'm so tired.

Lol.

Anyhoo, y'all don't care about that!!! Y'all are here to see what games I played and what the heck I have to say about them! Reminders: I don't bash games I didn't like, and I try to post more in-depth thoughts and reviews and general yapping to Gem's Game Gems.

DEMOS

When Stars Collide - I am by no means a sci-fi girlie. I need a HEAPING dose of fantasy or fantasy elements to help me out. That said, y'all might remember how I went feral for Gilded Shadows, so I am locked in for this journey with WSC. It's just as mysterious and lore intense as GS, but also just as intriguing and engaging!

Love Me, Love Me Not - I looooove when a game charms me to pieces??? Our MC Addie, the introduced LIs, the story, the art??? Where do I begin?? Anyway, please check this one out y'all! I'm impatient for the full game (shocker, I know).

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay - So my thoughts and reactions for this one are on the side blog, but I really enjoyed the demo and I have eyes for Chris, Vince, and Alex hehehe.

Lost in Limbo - While I'd been keeping tabs on this game for what seems forever because of the character art that originally caught my attention, I almost didn't finish the demo because it was lowkey disturbing (I'm a wimp and not all horror is made equal). But!!! BUT!!!! I push through to the end, had a good time, noted that I need to play the full game in the daylight with the music turned down low. And I absolutely adore Ara and Xal so, so much.

A Simple Twist of Fae - Absolutely no one cares, but I read a lot of manga this year. Like, a lot-a lot. Like, ~180 books and 1/3 of that was manga. Anyhoo, When JMB announced she was cooking up this game, I was impatient to get my grubby hands on it. AND THEN I PLAYED IT AND IT WAS THE SHOJO INSPIRED GAME OF MY DREAMS?!?! Like.....I wish I could both have it on my computer and also on my bookshelf. Final build dropping when??? (Also the UI design is utterly delightful, I cry.)

The Summit Library (FULL DEMO) - The last time I reviewed this game, we got chapter 1 as a taste, and I was. Locked! In!! The full demo gives us the first 2 chapters as well as the previews for all the romance routes and while giving everyone a whirl I'm *still* undecided on who to go for in the future, I must mention this: TSL is so aspec friendly???? I do love a game with smut, don't get me wrong looks at College Craze but sometimes I have my moments of being overwhelmed/sliiiiiiightly repulsed and the variety of options you have to choose how you react and interact with the various LIs in this game is amazing. (I have more thoughts on this, so I'll try to remember to post to the sideblog, but please understand that this game is totally worth your attention and time imo!!!)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

Rabbit Trail - This. Game. Is. SO. Cute. *punches the air* 😭🥹(Copy + paste of my review on the itch.io page -> This was so charming, so fluffy, so cozy, just delightful all around??? I've only reached one ending so far, but René is just the cutest protag to play as, and his interactions as he delivers his mail made me cheese so dang hard! (Also, I wanted to fight his parents for not properly appreciating their kid LOL))

Stuck by Design - I checked this game out because I was looking into games that fellow programmers had worked on, and this cozy game stumbled onto my lap. The music was perfect, the UI is beautiful and clean, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of the VA for the LI, Yuki.

Wake Me Up If You Need Me - I called this game older!HSDJY MC x Ryan coded and I'm still right. The voice actor MAKES this game, and the interactions the player has with Reed is so flippin' delightful?? All my love and adoration to the game developer. May they make more beautiful games.

CTRL FREAK - The developer team brought us The Faithfulness of the Universe which is a banger in its own right, and CTRL FREAK is the team's commercial, finished project that I also found delightful. The soundtrack and the animations are chef's kiss 💛

Breathless Winds - Ooo, baby, ooo. So. If there is only one game you play from this list and you have some spare cash to spend (at the time of writing, the game is on sale!!!) please, please, check this one out. It left me absolutely spellbound, both the orginal demo, and then the full game. While I didn't get to blog fully about this one, and I only tackled 2 of the 4 routes, this game is absolutely everything. This is my indie game of the year. Poppy and her journey resonated with me, and between the music and the art, everything just came together so perfectly.

Wake Up Magical Girl - Listen TF up, if miseri creates it, I'm gonna play it, idc, idc. That being said...this game had a kick to it that when I finished my first playthrough, I had to stare off into space and gather myself. It takes the concept of magical girls and heroism and gave me a teeny tiny existential crisis, but other than that, I'm fine, it's fine, play this game, thank you.

Sleeping Under Spells - God, I love me a game where I get to argue with a LI. I love it. Bonus points if it's lowkey stupid stuff we're bickering over LOL!!

Our Wonderland - Yeah, uh huh, you thought you'd escape me talking about this game this year, didn't yah???? Too bad. The fifth and final arc dropped this year and I played it and I cried and felt for the briefest moments that life was okay. To say something different than my review of last year, I love that this seems to be the game that helps fellow ace devs find and flock to each other, I'm not kidding 🤣 so thank you Carrot for helping us fellow aspec peeps feel seen and validated and understood!

I Watched a Full Game Playthrough and Highly Recommend

Replay Boys - Okay so technically at the time of posting, there's still one more video I'm waiting to watch (Naja of BlerdyOtome uploaded her stream to YouTube) but my Godddddd. I've had my eye on this game for FOREVER but I was lowkey waiting for it to move to itch.io (I'm still a lowkey Steam hater 🥹) anyhoo, watching this absolutely wild game made me go ahead and buy a copy for myself to replay at a later time, but it's just great. The summary only scratches this surface of what the game entails 🤣

Gemi’s Gushies

(a list within a list of games that have devs trucking along in the background and I want to spotlight for y’all)

Save the Villainess - Life got away with me and unfortunately I never finished my play of the demo BUT what I have played was fun and I hope to return to this in the new year!

Woman of Xal 2 - Plot Twist Studios is on that Sequel Train with the next installment of WoX!!! Which I'm VERY excited for!!! I've unfortunately only completed one playthrough of this game, but the first game is definitely a masterclass in replayability, and I hope next year I'll be able to do a second playthough as I wait for game 2's Kickstarter!

...

And that's 2024! Any shared favorites?

- Gemini 🫶🏾

[unlimitedhearts]

I want to highlight too that celebrity hate brigades can also have a detrimental psychologicalveffect to bystanding fans. Association with the thing or person being hate mobbed makes you fear that someone will hate mob you next even if its not logical.

Even back when all of this was in vogue and hating John Green was the cool thing to do - I was a teenager on tumblr who wanted to be a writer because John Green's work touched me DEEPLY. I read Paper Towns and it Changed me enough to where I still think about how I could possibly make anything as meaningful to anyone as that one book was to me. I came to tumblr with a love for John Green and his work only to be met with this horrific vitriol toward a man that, as far as I was aware, had done nothing.

That vitriol trickled into my own subconscious and I started to wonder if I was a bad person for liking John Green's work. So by the time the TFIOS movie was out - I didn't say a thing about it. I didn't talk about the book outside of one post i made of my pre order copy coming in the mail. I didn't talk about being an active member in the Nerdfighter community. I didn't even write anymore because I was afraid I would piss someone off that I didn't mean to. I felt sorry for John. He was nothing short of one of the most genuine people I'd had the pleasure to internet meet and im fairly sure both him and Hank Green were directly responsible for steering my adolescent internet journey into a good one.

Speaking of Hank... its quite disturbing to me that John got the brunt of the internets anger for daring to be Creative In The Wrong Way and Being Neurodivergent, Hank was often lauded. Both by tumblr and larger swathes of the internet I have rarely if ever seen Hank Green be treated with the same Cringe Hammer that John Green has. Is it because he does science? Is it because his Neurodivergency is closer to ADHD and therefore more acceptable than OCD and Anxiety? Is it because he didn't write YA at the turning of the tide against YA in the pop culture?

Something tells me the same cancel culture/purity culture people would have had a thing or two to say about An Absolutely Remarkable Thing and A Beautifully Foolish Endeavour if they released in the years 2012-2015. Raking him over the coals for much the same as they did John. For these perceived slights in a fictional work that had nothing to do with them. But because Hank didn't release his books during Tumblrs heyday, that never happened.

All John Green ever did was write his stories, say what he needed to say, and be openly Neurodivergent on the internet. And because everyone on tumblr couldn't stand the idea of someone being earnest on the internet, they crucified him for it. John Green deserves an apology. From the people who harassed him, from people who didn't, from everyone. He didn't deserve an iota of the shit he got for no reason.

I can't stress enough how much the John Green debacle was an early example of how cancel culture and purity culture combine to make people feel righteously justified to engage in harassment.

John Green, during his time on tumblr, committed the heinous sins of...being neurodivergent and talking openly about it, earnestly interacting with fans in a very direct and unfiltered way, and writing about teenagers navigating first love and sexuality while he himself was an adult. The worst things he ever did were be a little cringe or misspeak, for which he was always prompt to apologize (often whether he really needed to or not).

Yet despite the former two being things tumblr claimed to love and the last one being true of 99.99% of YA authors, in this case a large segment of tumblr users steeped in the early 2010s resurgence of purity culture decided that these things were suspicious and predatory, and used that as an excuse to justify some truly awful behavior.

Which is really all that cancel culture is: the normalization and even celebration of the process of misapplying morality or ethics to dehumanize someone for the express purpose of justifying whatever pain and suffering you want to inflict upon them. Basically, deciding "this person is bad, so I am exempt from affording them basic respect and human dignity, and am allowed to cross any and all otherwise uncrossable lines in order to punish them without damaging my own moral or ethical standing."

Contrary to popular tumblr lore, the infamous "cock monologue" was not the sum total of the harassment, or even the worst of it. Callout blogs issued long lists of "receipts" about how terrible John Green was, most if not all of which were either taken out of context or completely refutable. His works were torn to shreds by people who'd never read them, as evidenced by much of the criticism being obviously and blatantly counter to the actual contents of the books.

Not that it mattered. Once the John Green hate party reached a certain level of critical mass, it became less about who he actually was or what he'd done, and more about proving you were a good person by hating him. That's the natural conclusion of cancel culture, after all: virtue signalling by identifying yourself in opposition to the cancelled parties. They're bad, and I'm good, so I hate them! Or, more often: They're bad, and I hate them, so I'm good!

Before it was over with, John Green had been accused, with no evidence, of being everything from a Nazi to a pedophile and subjected to hate mail and death threats. He eventually left the site for the sake of his own mental health, and because he no longer felt comfortable engaging directly with fans in the same way he once had.

Yet even now, with the benefit of hindsight, and even among those who ostensibly reject purity culture and condem bullying and harassment, very few on tumblr take what was done to John Green as seriously as it should be taken or condemn it as thoroughly as it should be condemned. Which I think is something we need to at least consider doing, given the increasing rise of purity and cancel culture online, and given the recent influx of professional creators eager to interact with fans on a more direct level than they have on other social media.

And my concern is not purely, or even primarily, for the Mike Flanagans and Lynda Carters of the world. I'm far more concerned, actually, for the small, independent or self-published creators in this space, and how much even a very small level of visibility gives too many people a feeling of carte blanche to engage in harassment.

I myself have less than 3k followers on here, a handful of popular posts, and zero notoriety or consequence outside of tumblr whatsoever, and I've been repeatedly told to kill myself for saying such innocuous things as "I don't think censorship is the cure for the world's evils" and "maybe learning the history of communities you want to participate in would be a good idea."

Thankfully, all it took for me to stop the harassment that came my way was to block those few individuals. But there have been many instances over the years of small creators or just random tumblr users that got a bit popular being stalked, doxxed, swatted, and harassed to the point of leaving the site and dealing with serious mental health issues as a result. It has never been just John Green. John Green isn't even the worst example. And tumblr has never learned its lesson.

[maxybabyy]

an unfortunate habit of sleeping with the elves is absolutely sending me im giggling so bad

happy holidays to you and yours, anon 😘

Inspired by the tags on this post.

Maxiel: Dirtbag Daniel, twinky Max, mature, 957 words

“It’s just two of you this year, but I take it that’s fine with you,” Seb says and shoves the suit into Daniel’s arms. Red and sweaty with an under-note of alcohol that probably shouldn’t be around kids. “Try not to fuck the elf, will you? Or at least don’t do it on company fucking property.” 

Daniel tuts, “Learned from the best, mate.” 

Seb shoots him a glare like the two of them didn’t make Christmas come early for Mrs. Claus three years ago. 

“Just, please,” Seb stresses, and Daniel thinks maybe the promotion was a mistake after all. There’s too much tension in his shoulders now, wrinkles where they shouldn’t be. And there’s no fucking way Lewis will look at him twice if he loses more hair. “Anyway, it’s a guy this time, so maybe that will stop you.” 

Daniel hasn’t really dabbled much with guys outside the occasional handjob when a threesome had gone wrong, so it does put a damper on his plan but Seb doesn’t have to know that. He could have changed in the past years, sucked a cock or fucked that twink who always blushes when he comes by to unclog his mother’s drain. Probably wouldn’t go over well with the mister, fucking both his son and his wife. But like, Daniel could have done it. 

“And happy fucking holidays to you too, Sebastian,” Daniel tells him and pushes open the door to the changing room. “See you on new years.” 

There’s the whoosh of the door closing behind him and then - 

“Oh, hello,” someone says, halfway down the bench. “I am Max. I will of course be your elf.” 

Daniel doesn’t move, stays rooted in his spot by the door as he watches Max stare up at him with a wide smile. 

He’s young, way too fucking young, and that’s not usually a problem for Daniel, but this is just fucking indecent. 

His face is all sharp angles, the recent loss of baby fat obvious, and the fatness of his lips makes him look obscene, tongue poking out to leave behind a sheen of spit. 

It probably does nothing for how fucked up his lips are, cracked from the wind and cold weather, and Daniel has half a mind to throw him the menthol lip balm Michelle makes him carry around. Instead what he wants is to run his tongue over his lip, suck it into his mouth until whatever energy drink he probably gargled down before coming here is soaked into his taste buds. 

Max is still bent over the bench, one foot shoved into the same sheer tights of green and red that Daniel has diligently peeled of the other elves before he fucked them. The same thigh-length dress has been thrown to the floor with no considerations for Max’s obvious dick-situation, which - 

“No underwear mate?” Daniel blurts out. 

He has a side view of Max, but it’s so fucking obvious how cheeked-up he is from the lack of boxers. The pale skin of his thighs and ass is dusted with fine, blonde hair, and Daniel is almost sure the carpet matches too. 

Which, you know, still begs the question of why the cradle-robbee is fucking naked in a mall locker room. 

“What?” The kid says and straightens up, both feet dropping to the ground. He looks ridiculous like that, Donald Duck-ing it in his Stanford varsity soccer shirt and nothing else. “Oh, you think -“ 

Daniel drops down to sit on the bench, hands held up placatingly, “Hey man, you do you, yeah? Just, we’re gonna be around kids, so.” 

He’s not the one catching a case if his ass falls over. Seb’s gonna be livid, but that’s not - 

Max hikes his shirt, bunched up under the swell of his pecs to show off a distressingly small waist, moles scattered across pale skin. His stomach is flat, trim muscles with just the tiniest curve to his hips, and even if it hadn’t been for the shirt, the yellowed knees are clear signs of his time on the field. 

But that’s not - 

There’s a band around his waist, just the tiniest slip of cloth over his dick, and Daniel almost thinks he’s wearing a thong, but matching pieces of elastic frame the swell of his ass on either side.

It reminds Daniel of high school varsity sports, of communal showers and coming down the drain when everyone but Scotty and him had left. 

Because the kid is wearing a fucking jock strap, and Daniel doesn’t think his mouth has ever been this dry. 

“With the tights, I thought of course it would be better like this,” Max says and turns around, shows off his ass and how his shirt falls over it. “Always you cannot see the lines like this.” 

He pulls the fabric tight over his ass, and like, the kid is right, but like, Daniel is so clearly not looking for the seams of his fucking underwear like this. His hands twitch in his lap to keep himself from reaching out, touching the swell of his ass. 

Daniel thinks, maybe if he curves his palm just right, he could probably hold a cheek in each hand. Fingers spread wide so his thumbs would fall just on the insides of his thighs, barely a slip away from being inside Max. 

“Cool,” Daniel says hoarsely. 

His knees creak when he stands up but he’s too busy staring at the kid staring back at him to care. So obviously looking for something else, something more, that Daniel doesn’t know what he is supposed to do but reach out and slap his ass. 

Max’s breath hitches, the skin of his ass turns scarlet, and Daniel burns with it. 

“Well done, kid.” 

[anniebeckcalla]

.✿° dreamies twitter prompts !

drabbles inspired by twitter posts

member: zhong chenle

non-idol au. wc: 637 tw: fluff, nightmares

calla's note: came out longer than intended, sorry everyone

Your eyes jolted open as your hands flailed around helplessly in the pitch black. A sheen of sweat covered your body,made worse by the painful thud of your heart against your ribs.

A nightmare.

Just a figment of your imagination, just a scary adventure from a different frequency, but a nightmare nonetheless. It had frightened you right out of your senses. The tiredness that threatened to overtake you terrified you all the more. You didn't want to have to return to your bad dreams. You let out a mournful whimper, feeling absolutely helpless.

Y/n?” A hoarse voice arose from beside you. With a click*, the room was filled with a soft glow from the bedside lamp. You turned around to see Chenle sat up next to you, blonde hair tousled, eyes half shut. “What's wrong?” he mumbled, reaching out to you clumsily. You edged nearer to him. “I had another nightmare,” you breathed, taking his hand and clasping it tightly. Chenle rubbed his eyes. “I told you not to watch Parasyte too late at night,” he grumbled. “Now we're both suffering from your stupid choices.” Your lip trembled. “Don't be cross, please,” you said. “It was scary.” Chenle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ,whatever. Come here.”

He pulled you into an embrace, and you tightened your arms around his waist, grateful for his warmth and comfort. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling his soft smell of bergamot and amber. Chenle ran his fingers down your back in a cadenced rhythm, trailing your spine with gentle strokes. Soon, your breathing became in tune with one another; slow, heady, and calm.

Do you know what makes everything better after a nightmare?” Chenle whispered.

“No…” you answered absentmindedly.

“A grilled cheese sandwich,” Chenle replied. You couldn't help but laugh at the seriousness with which he said it, especially after the silence that had filled the room a few moments before. “I'm not joking,” Chenle said, pulling away from the hug. “I'm going to go to the kitchen and make you a grilled cheese sandwich.” He stepped out of bed, adjusting his tartan pyjama bottoms. “Watch me.”

“It's two in the morning.” You pointed at the wall clock. Chenle shrugged. “Doesn't mean anything. It's daytime somewhere in the world.” You made to get up and follow him to the kitchen, but Chenle held up his hand. “Ah, no. Sit back and let me do it for you. Room service and all that. I won't be long.”

As the smell of toasted cheese and bread filled the apartment, you lay back in your bed, pulling the sheets around you. The nightmare was just a distant memory now, replaced by the anticipation of a nighttime snack and your boyfriend by your side. You closed your heavy eyelids just for one moment…

“Y/n!”- “AGGH!”

Chenle's face was hovering above yours. “Fell asleep again, did we?” he smiled. Before you could protest, he held the plate of grilled cheese in front of you. “Here we are, madam,” he said, placing it on the duvet. It smelt absolutely divine and was brown and crispy in all the right places. You hadn't even taken a bite of it, but you already knew that the sandwich was the answer to all your problems. “Maybe i’ll be having more nightmares so that I can have more grilled cheese,” you smiled as you tore the sandwich apart gently to give half to Chenle. “Don't be cheeky! This is a one-time deal!” He pinched your cheek playfully as he settled back in bed next to you.

As you laid your head on his shoulder,munching your cheese delight, absorbing the warmth and soft light, you wondered to yourself what you had done to deserve someone who would make you grilled cheese at 2am, especially after a nightmare.

[aurawrawr]

Who am I to you?

Part 3

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab reader x twin brother and Kingsguard Yuuji Itadori

Yuuji is eager to be a father. And when it seems to him that he might not be well equipped to fulfill his goal, he seeks help from the only person he knows will do it without a second thought. But someone should have warned him that this (re)union might breed more than a child, something he'd regret for a long time.

Here's Part 1 and Part 2.

Minors, DNI. WC: 4.9k

CW: smoking, infertility, anger, frustration, feeling humiliated, poisoning, paralysis, heavy drinking, mutual bickering, PIV sex, oral [fem receiving(from tummy tongue)], breast play, breeding, talk about pregnancy and motherhood

"He wants to see you.”

You have your head in your hands. As if the past two weeks have not been stressful enough, Yuuji has come to you with a request you can't make heads or tails of. You're not even sure you heard him right. Please have a child with Aniki, that's what you believe he said. But that's insane. Does he have no idea what he's asking for?

"What for? Has he agreed to your proposal?" You're shaking. When you said you wanted to see Ryomen, this is not how you thought it would go.

"He wants to know what you want.”

You scoff. "Do you want to know what I want?”

"You want to be a mother, right? Love, we talked about this before we even started trying. If you had disagreed, I'd have never tried to change your mind. And... and..." Yuuji sits down at the edge of the bed. "By the looks of it, I can't give you a child. So the next best... closest option I can give you is my twin brother. It will be just like having a baby with me, you know.”

"Yuuji, the problem could be with me," You try to reason with your husband.

"Do you really believe that? We studied this for so long, went to doctors and asked for their opinion. We know your cycle is healthy. The bleeding always happens on time. Whereas…”

"There is absolutely no indication that there is something wrong with you either. You do so much physical labor, you stay active, and you have no addictions. Hell, you haven't even touched a bottle of sake since we started trying. If anything, the fact that Ryo has been smoking and drinking since he was fifteen should deter you from making the request that you are."

Yuuji sighs. It's time for him to sit with his head in his hands. Just when you start to think you've gotten through to him, he asks, "please can we try this once?”

So you walk across the courtyard, following your husband's shadow, wavering in the light of the lantern he is holding. It's late, late in the night. The palace is silent, so silent you can hear the snores from the servants' rooms, the clacking of shoes as the guards keep watch, the low hum of a chant from Uraume's room and, of course, your own thumping heartbeat. You were so glad to be finally reuniting with Ryo but so torn to be committing the sin you have been scared of ever since you married Yuuji. What was Ryomen thinking? He should have turned Yuuji down in the first place.

"Aniki," Yuuji calls out from the doorstep. "We're here.”

The room reeks of opium, the smell of yearning and being left behind. The four-armed beast that terrorizes the land is sitting at the window, blowing ringlets of smoke into the air outside. His kimono loosely hangs from his shoulders, baring his chest. You don't know how to look at him without giving away all your truth. So you don't look at him; you look around him.

"Come in," he demands.

Yuuji leads you in by the hand, sitting you down on a couch on the floor. The room has changed so much since you saw it the last time you were allowed to come inside to deliver the King's supper. There is a full-size four post bed taking up a lion's share of the room, it's canopy red and black, a tapestry of danger. You sit in silence, observing the two most important men in your life have a conversation about who gets to breed you. This is the most humiliated you've felt in all your life but you want to see how far they're willing to push your boundaries before they realize they're both losing you.

"My love?" Yuuji beckons you back out of your spiraling thoughts. "Aniki wanted to know if you're okay with all this.”

"Tell him I don't care.”

"That settles it, Yuuji. I don't wish to proceed if she's not willing. It'd be—”

"What I mean is..." You grit your teeth. "I don't care as long as it is something Yuuji wants.”

Your husband rushes to you, kneels and looks up at you with teary eyes. "Thank you, my love. Thank you so much. You make my world a better place to live in. I've never and I can never love anyone as much as I love you. Well, maybe the baby. But both of you will be sharing the same spot on my heart." He kisses your hand and you caress the side of his face when he looks at you like you've just picked the moon from the sky to give it to him. He's so precious, you want to do just that.

You feel a somber gaze on you but Ryo is facing elsewhere when you look up. Only the two eyes on his mask are on you and they give away nothing. Not even a speck of emotion. He's back to being the old him, the Ryo you could never figure out.

Yuuji wipes at his runny nose before standing up. "You two have a lot to catch up on. Why don't I leave you to it? We don't want it to be uncomfortable when you know... you two... yeah, I'm going to... okay! See you later, my love.”

You sit in silence, staring at the door that Yuuji shuts behind him. The night is chilly and the open window beside Ryo is not helping in the slightest. What do you have to talk to him about? What can you even say? I've been imagining your face at the heights of my pleasure for the last five years? Too forward. I'm still gonna call you the name I have our entire lives and not refer to you as the Lord or the King? A little offensive.

He clears his throat and sits up. His kimono falls further apart, drawing your eyes to his abdomen. You only wanted to steal a glance but the sight of his gaping belly shakes you to your very core. He starts to say, "I was thinking—”

But you stop him, "Are you hurt?" Your eyes are fixated on his abdomen and you can swear you see something moving.

"Where?" He follows your gaze. "This? It's only a second mouth.”

You look up at his face in horror, finally meeting his eyes. "A second mouth? What happened— you know what, never mind. Just let me know when—”

"No, go ahead." His voice is suddenly so much softer. "Ask me anything.”

You scoff. "You're much agreeable when you know you're about to fuck me, aren't you?”

His eyes grow darker at your challenge. His jaw tightens. "I shall not tolerate being talked to like that anymore. We're no longer just friends. I am your King and you will remember that.”

"Right. Understood... Sukuna-sama." The sound of your heart breaking is so loud, you barely hear his next words anymore.

"Do you agree? Woman?”

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat yourself... my Lord?" Your eyes are downcast now. The water on your lids make them heavy.

Ryomen sighs. "I suggested we lie to Yuuji. And hopefully he'll give this up in a few months when you don't become with child. Do you agree with that?”

"No, I don't. I too want a child, my Lord, and if you care about your brother, you'll give me one.”

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The next time you see Ryo in his chambers, you go alone. In the middle of the night. The palace is busy for the upcoming coronation of their terrifying protector, readying the halls for guests from neighboring kingdoms. Sneaking is not an option so you carry a tea set up the stairs as an excuse to visit the King.

The fusuma slides open just as you're about to knock, revealing a towering Ryomen on the other side. As if, he has been expecting you. You quickly steer your glance and bow to him. "I'm here with your tea, my Lord."

"Come in." He steps out of your way.

The state of the room surprises you. It does not smell of weed or tobacco anymore; in fact, it smells pleasant. Somehow, it looks bigger, cleaner. You set the tray down on the tatami, kneel in front of it, and Ryomen takes up the spot opposite to you. "Why is there only one cup?" He asks, folding two of his arms over his chest while the other two rest on his thighs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my Lord. Do you require two separate cups?”

"No, woman, where is your cup?”

You chuckle. "I dare not drink tea with my King now. That'd be blasphemous." You keep the smug smile on your face while you swirl the kyūsu and strain the tea into the cup you brought for Ryomen. He picks it up and takes a sip before placing it back on the tray.

"Drink," he orders. You shake your head, feeling a sudden rush of courage. "I said, drink. You dare to defy your King, do you?”

His words make you stop. There's no ill intent in his words, no authority in his tone, just a friendly challenge. So you bring his cup to your lips to take down a big chug. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" You ask.

"As much as you are." There's a smirk on his lips, like there used to be on your friend, Ryomen's lips.

Nothing happens that night. The tray sits between as you two chat about things like old friends do, the air filled with your chuckles as he teases you for being a missus now, for not treating him after the wedding, for not realizing how quick the passing of time and his absence could change everything.

"Have you been to see her?" You ask, pouring again from the teapot.

Ryo knows what you're talking about. "I have. The crime scene had one name written all over it. Yours. What did you do?" He sounds proud.

"Just this berry and that leaf and that other fruit. I only wanted to make sure she can never use her hand to hit someone close to me ever again.”

Ryo smirks, sipping on his tea before handing the cup to you. "And what about my father?”

"I had nothing to do with Otou-san's death. If anything, I believe it was your half-brother's greed." You sigh. "You see what I've married into?”

He scoffs. "Now now, you keep my little brother out of this. His lamb-like innocence makes up for the dysfunctionality of the rest of my family. I'm sorry. I mean, our family.”

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The morning of the coronation, you wake up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Your husband climbs off the bed before you can. "I'll see who it is, my love. You stay put." You shuffle out of the sheets anyway, your robes intact.

There's a woman's voice outside. "Sukuna-sama has sent your attires for today. I will be helping the lady with her jūnihitoe."

"Jūnihitoe?" Yuuji and you ask at the same time.

"Yes. That is what Sukuna-sama wanted. Is there a problem?"

You shrug at your husband who replies, "umm... no, there's no problem. Please give us some time to freshen up." There's a hum at the door and Yuuji shuts it behind him. He walks up to you as you keep shaking your head. "You know, subtlety is not his strong suit. It'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I'll look like a fish out of water, wearing that in the middle of the servants' rows."

You don't have to sit in the middle of the servants' rows. When Ryo sees you and Yuuji walk out into the yard in your shiny new clothes, he sends Uraume to fetch the two of you close to his makeshift throne. "What are the plans for today?" You ask Uraume as you get as comfortable as possible on the wooden seats.

They huff. "We have the coronation where your mother-in-law will crown Sukuna-sama, who will then appoint the ministers and officially declare Itadori-kun as the Commander of the Kingsguard. Then there's the tourney where the champions from neighboring states have come to compete for a spot on the King of Curses' army. And then there's the feast that will last the rest of the day. You would have known all of that if you didn't lock yourself in your room twenty-four hours a day."

Nothing pleases you more than when they bring in your mother-in-law in a wheelchair, the right side of her body limp from having her tea dosed with high amounts of toxins every day for a year. She can barely speak more than a few syllables without her tongue getting heavy. Your pride bellows in your chest when Ryomen walks down the steps of the dais to get to the center of the yard.

The audience is silent as the beast refuses to bend his knee. The servants help up your mother-in-law, lifting her up on a step as she struggles to hold the crown up in her left hand.

Ryo whispers something you don't hear from afar but you smile when his stepmother is forced to use both her hands to put the crown on his head.

"Aniki is too much at times," Yuuji complains.

"But isn't this so satisfying to watch?"

"That, it is."

The smirk on your face lingers as the proceedings continue. Ryo walks around the yard, naming his ministers even though he just told you the other night that he doesn't need any. He summons Yuji and declares him to be the Commander of the Kingsguard. The crowd doesn't cheer when one brother kneels in front of the other. The crowd doesn't make a peep the whole day; they're there because they don't want to lose their heads or that of their children.

You admire how Ryomen has the whole town under his thumb. The town that wronged you, shunned you and your mother, he's punishing them. You don't know where it is coming from, but there is a sense of accomplishment that you cannot shake off.

He drinks the rest of the day, through the tourney, the declaration of the winner and the evening feast. Every time you see Yuji trying to snatch away his jug from him, Ryo becomes grumpy, demanding his mead be handed back.

To be honest, he doesn't even look drunk. You've seen him inebriated before, in your teenage years. He used to become clumsy and throw things, and curse a lot. But now, he's just... a little grumpy. Maybe his changed physical form has something to do with that.

You're quickly proved wrong. You're talking to some of your colleagues, sitting at the dinner table Uraume assigned to you, when a partially filled jug of ale flies across the room, drenching half the guests. The dinner hall buzzes with commotion, chairs shifting, people questioning, and when you look up toward the direction of the throne, your eyes lock with the King's. He is grumpy because of you.

Only a moment later, Yuuji comes to fetch you. "Aniki is asking for you." His new clothes are flashy, his cloak red like the blood of those he would slay for his brother. He takes your arm in his as he leads you to the throne.

"You wanted to see me, Your Highness?" You bow to the King.

"Yes..h, woman." His words slur. "I am retiring from the party and I wish to dine in my quarters. You will make such arrangements while my brother and I be on our way there."

"Of course, Your Highness."

When you reach the doors of his bedroom, a heavy tray in your hand, you stop to listen in on the conversation between the brothers. "This body was supposed to be a deformity, a curse levied on me for my sins. But I see this as a saturation of strength. What's better than two arms?"

"Four," Yuuji answers. "I agree with you. But I don't understand the mouth on your stomach."

"Actually, this was a gift. It can be used for chanting."

Yuuji hums. "One thing hasn't changed in you. Do you know what that is, Aniki?"

"What?"

"Your massive ego and penchant for showing off." The brothers laugh. "Saturation of strength? Who talks like that?"

You smile as you keep listening. It fills your heart with warmth knowing that the twins have rebuilt their relationship. Still, you can't shake off the feeling of being left behind yet again.

"You're not smoking anymore?"

"No," Ryomen replies. "You assigned me a task, remember? Tobacco and opium might delay or worse, hinder it. Hence—"

Your cheeks start to warm up.

"Alcohol might too," your husband argues. "And yet—"

"Your dinner is here, Your Highness." You put a stop to that conversation as quickly as you can.

Yuuji slides open the door, welcoming you inside. You place the tray on the table in the middle of the room before bowing to the King. Your husband chuckles. "Love, there's nobody around. We don't need to do that here."

He takes your hand and pulls you toward the couch where Ryo is leisurely taking up half the space. Yuuji puts you in his lap, draws you close to his chest as the brothers keep chatting. Your eyes never leave Ryo's. Well, you are not even sure which eyes to follow — the drunk, embarrassed human eyes that fleet between your face and Yuuji's, or the demon eyes frowning at the spot on your arm that Yuuji squeezes every time he adjusts you in his embrace.

The food you brought stays on the table, forgotten and going cold, as the three of you reminisce about your childhood. Yuuji teases you, bringing up how you used to be scared of Ryo when you first arrived at the mansion and still followed him around, touching his arm every now and then, trying to figure him out.

"Shall we get going now?" Yuuji nudges your shoulder with his chin and the demon eyes furrow even further. You nod.

Your husband starts to lead you away when you feel a grip on you, pulling you back. Yuuji turns too when you fall behind. He spots Ryomen's downcast gaze on the spot where the tips of his thumb and first finger meet around your wrist. The shock on Yuuji's face catches your eye but before you can wriggle yourself out of his brother's grasp, he walks back to you and pecks the side of your face. "I'll see you in the morning, my love." And just like that, he is gone.

"You can't be serious." You rebuke Ryomen, yanking your hand away.

"You wanted this." His gaze is still downcast.

You scoff. "Oh, poor Ryomen! It must be so miserable having to fuck a woman. You must have never done that in your whole life."

His eyes flash with frustration. "They were whores."

"And what am I? Asking my husband's brother to fuck me so I can experience motherhood. Am I any different?"

Ryo stands up from the couch and walks toward you, making you take a step back. He's huge now. So much taller and bigger than he was before. You're up against the wall, sandwiched between the wood and his chest. "Ryo, please." You breathe, looking away.

"Do I still scare you, woman?"

You shake your head, refusing to give him the last laugh.

"Even when I look like this?"

Your eyes fly open, meeting his. All four of his eyes are on you, expectant and vulnerable. He needs you. You reach out to touch his face, the human side, and he leans into it like a cat. "Ryo," You call out to him. All your anger melts when he closes all his eyes and relishes in your touch. You place your other hand on his chest, trying to feel the beat of his heart. It's calm, a steady pace. He's at peace in your arms.

"What am I to you?" Ryo asks. For a brief moment, he looks like a boy again, wanting to know if you love him.

"I don't know."

Ryomen smiles wryly before escaping your embrace. He's about to say something but you beat him to it.

"There has not been a single moment in the last five years when you weren't on my mind. I'm cooking and I make it spicier because you prefer it that way. I am sewing and I use your favorite colors. I'm sitting by the pond by myself and I imagine us having a conversation. My husband..." You choke up. "My husband is making love to me and I... I see your face. You... you left me. I played our last conversation over and over in my head, trying to untangle the web of your riddles but I couldn't." You rub off the tears streaming down your face. "You left me here and Yuuji was like my wooden plank in open ocean. I had to... even though it was so wrong... even though —"

Ryo cups your face in two of his hands, pausing your downpour of thoughts. "If I stall any longer, I'll never do it."

Before you can say anything else, his lips find yours. His two lower arms pull you into his body as he kisses you. You knew there will be no tenderness with Ryomen but this passion is abundant and unbound. His big, strong hands squeeze your sides as they run up and down your torso with frenzied lust. You throw your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

He lifts you up in his arms as he keeps kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, and carries you over to the bed. "Get these off, woman." He pulls at the ties of your top robe. "Jūnihitoe was a bad idea"

You chuckle at his child-like impatience. But can you really blame him? You're itching too to touch him, to have him touch you, claim you. Oh it's so wrong! It's so unfair to Yuuji.

But Yuuji is the last thing on your mind right now.

Robe by robe, layer by layer, you come undone to the lover you thought you were never meant to have. Here he is, undressing you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, and all you can do is... let him.

You can swear you see his jaws drop open once you're completely naked. "Don't stare," You tease, your cheeks burning. "It's not the first time you're seeing a woman."

"They were whores. You are..." Ryo hesitates. "You are you."

"Wow, you're so efficient at communicating what I mean to you." You smirk.

"Stop being bratty, woman." His human eyes are trying their hardest to intimidate you while the demon eyes are too busy ogling your chest to care.

You lie down and Ryo follows beside you. He cradles your head, his fingers nestling in your hair as he kisses you again. Your deft fingers find their way to the sash of his robe, pulling it apart, immediately navigating their way over his skin, around the inhuman mouth.

"Goodness," You yelp when you feel something wet glide past your hand.

"Oh, it has a mind of its own. I can't really control it." Ryo makes an excuse. "But, it seems as though it likes you."

"That was surely a demonstration of affection."

You both laugh, easing up the tension and unfortunately, the built up desire. Ryomen lies down on his back with you on one of his arms. His robe falls apart, exposing his chest. You extend a hand to touch him. Drawing circles through his scanty hair, you pull yourself closer to him.

Before he can say anything, you put your hand over his mouth, still damp from your kiss. "Can you, for once, put yourself before your brother? For me?"

You sit up, flinging one leg over his hips. Ryo runs his fingers over your thighs as you settle yourself. You take two of his hands and guide them to your chest. "You've grown, woman," he groans.

"What does that mean?"

He sits up, pulling you closer so your forehead touches his. "It means, I've craved your breathy moans, the harshness of your nails on my back, the sweet taste of your sweat on my tongue. I used to watch you walk back to the house after your bath, your chest heaving with every step." He kneads your flesh, making you gasp as he softly tugs at a nipple. "In winters, like an old creep, I used to lecherously stare at the pert points on the front of your robe, imagining my hands over them... and my mouth." He snuggles his nose against your jaw and kisses it before venturing southward. Locking his human eyes with you, he opens his mouth wide and closes his lips around your bud.

His tongue sends jolts of sensation down your spine. You grasp at his hair, pushing your teat further into his mouth. Two of his hands grope the soft flesh of your behind, squeeze the fat on your hips, glide over your thighs, before one of his fingers finds the core of your pleasure.

"So wet, woman," he mumbles against your nipple. "Almost like you've been waiting all your life for me."

"I have." Your eyes water as he draws circles around your clitoris, slow, drawn out, painfully patient circles. "You're such a tease, Ryo. Why don't you just... take me?"

"And what's the fun in that? Let me utilize every moment I have with you." He kisses you again. "What if this is all we have?"

The heart that was warm and gleeful, breaks again. You look into Ryomen's eyes, only to find a mirror that reflects your feelings. This time, you kiss him. Fervently. Maniacally. You push his back to the the bed again, slowly sliding down his torso to meet his lips. What you don't expect is a tongue on your clit, the tongue on Ryo's stomach.

You sit up, perplexed at the onslaught of pleasure but unable to lift yourself off of the demonic mouth. Ryo encourages you. "You look so good like that, woman. That's right, grind your hips against my mouth. Your pleasure gives me pleasure. Are you coming?"

You nod, unable to form words anymore.

"Keep going, woman. You're doing so good. Come for me. Come for me."

This orgasm leaves a permanent mark on your psyche and also on Ryo's abdomen. Your nails have gone as far into his skin as they could, drawing blood.

Without a moment of respite, Ryo flips you over on the bed. Your giggling stops when his strong arm pulls your waist up to put a cushion under it. "You wanted me to take you, didn't you?" He rasps, bending over you, so close that his belly mouth springs out and starts picking your back. "Talk to me. Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me." You finally voice your lewd thoughts. "I want you to give me a child, Ryo. Even if I have to raise it with Yuuji, I want you and myself to know who the father really is."

"Fuck," Ryomen groans.

You cry out as he pushes in, your delicate skin threatening to break around his girth. As soon as you accommodate yourself to his length, he starts rocking his hips. His grip is strong on the plump flesh of your hips as his nails dig in to keep you in place. You can feel him, throbbing, his fat tip pulsating against your womb, ready to breed you on command.

"You feel so good, woman." He's moaning too. Your name on his lips sounds like exactly how it was supposed to be pronounced when your mother named you. His hands are traveling up and down your back, grabbing, squeezing, groping your flesh. "If you so badly want a child... I'll give you one. More. As. Many. As. You. Want." He thrusts with every word until his grip on you tightens to the point of bruises.

You've lost count of how many orgasms you've had but when Ryo comes, you feel fulfilled. You're so filled with his warmth, you don't realize when you collapse on the bed, when Ryo's hand scoops you close to his chest. "You did good, woman. I'm sure this union will be fruitful," he whispers with his mouth to your forehead as you drift to a well-earned sleep.

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

There's no God in my heaven. And Hell belongs to me. King of Curses, they call me. And what I have done to earn that title is between me and the sorcerers I killed. For what, then, am I being rewarded?

My Heaven is in my arms, warm and breathing, probably sore in all the places I touched her tonight. How dare I? How dare I ruin her, maim her unfit to ever love her husband again?

Maybe, if everything had gone right, I would have been her husband. And if my human form was not crippled the same way my brother is, she'd have already become a mother by now. I know of her doubts of being the one crippled, but I know she's fertile. I know she's fertile right now. And I hope I've done one thing in all my life to make her dreams come true.

However, it's also so bittersweet. What will happen once she does bear my child? Our little tea meetings will end, I'll never touch her again, never experience both the peace and the excitement of having her fingers run along my skin.

I don't want this to end. I can't let this end. I can't lose her again.

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

[bisexualgenderfemme]

In many many ways I agree with this post, including the most important thrust of it, but I have to strongly disagree on one small point.

full out saying this:

"when someone knows we're trans we're treated like a woman no matter what." (emphasis mine)

IS NOT TRUE!

maybe this is nitpicky, maybe this is just bad phrasing, but as this is? this is self defeatist, basically doomerism, & honestly makes me really dysphoric. like apparently everyone all the time is thinking about how I'm a woman just bc they know I'm trans? that's not true, plenty of people gender me correctly & actively think of me as a man, even when they know I'm trans.

YES! trans men face abuse & assault & job discrimination & all the other /specific examples/ listed, but this isn't it. Trans men are not doomed to be judged first as a woman in every situation they're in. there are absolutely times when, even though someone knows you (the general 3rd person you) are trans, you are still a man to them.

in fact, this is /part of/ why trans men face unique oppression, to some people you are not a woman, you are a trans man, and /that/ is what is being oppressed. that's part of why anti transmasculinity is its own thing & not just a copy of what cis women face.

This idea that everyone treats me like a woman "no matter what" upon learning I'm trans is directly contradictory to my lived experience. I am personally beyond the point of being viewed as a woman by most transphobic peoples standard bc I've 'ruined' my body so much that the judgement on my being trans I get the most is a third gendering/degendering/monsterizing experience. This is a reality many trans men, myself included, face & saying that everyone always views us as women actually prevents us from seeing our selves represented or getting the help we need.

again! maybe op meant something more like "often times when someone finds out you're trans they treat you like a woman after that no matter what" or "when someone is transphobic & they find out you're trans you often are reduced back to woman." which are both definitely true things I have experienced (tho more earlier in my transition) & I want to give that the benefit of the doubt, but I also don't want trans mascs/trans men to see this, read it as I did, & internalize the idea that everyone is secretly thinking "woman."

You can be viewed as a man! there are many people who will view you as a man whether they know you are trans or not, they will treat you like a man, (though unfortunately that sometimes means some of them treating you like a TRANS man) they will allow you to move through the world as a man. That doesn't mean everyone always will, or that passing isn't context dependent, or that passing privilege is real, or that passing isn't conditional: those are also all true! this is a complicated & nuanced subject where many things are true at once, that's why the finality, the totality, of

"when someone knows we're trans we're treated like a woman no matter what."

rubs me wrong. I don't want other trans men to give up hope.

im not sorry the truth of the transmasculine experience is ugly. i'm not sorry that we have to frequently discuss sexual and physical violence and abuse. i'm not sorry that we have to discuss violent physical abuse and death. i'm not sorry that we have to discuss homelessness, mental illness, addiction, disabilities, and other challenges in life.

we struggle. we do not instantly gain male privilege the second we come out. even if we pass. when someone knows we're trans we're treated like a woman no matter what. we can sometimes get lucky and pass with strangers but eventually people around us find out because people tell each other without our consent.

we face all kinds of abuse due to the fact that people feel entitlement to our bodies, regardless of what our AGAB is. they feel entitled to our faces, our hair, our entire appearance. they focus on the face that we're ruining something "pretty". they threaten corrective sexual violence to remind us that we're "just women". it happens constantly. this is not an isolated incident and virtually nobody wants people to talk about it when it comes to transmasculine people.

trans men often get injured for one reason or another. usually because someone wants to make them "prove" they're a man, to "toughen them up" or to "prove to them that they're a woman". sometimes this results in sexual assault. other times it results in physical assault. and sometimes people just kill trans men. all because they hate that a "woman" can transition into a man.

it's an ugly part of our reality but it needs to be discussed because otherwise people use the lack of that conversation as ammunition to say transmascs don't struggle.

transmasculine people struggle to stay housed. transmasculine people get kicked out of their living situations very often for many reasons. it's hard for transmascs to get jobs because often times people want either a man or a woman for a specific position and fuss over what they think the transmasc's gender is. misgendering is a huge issue at work. going stealth at work can be painful. being in the closet at work can be painful

transmascs are often disabled and struggle to get care due to people not taking AFAB patients' pain and symptoms seriously. this is a huge issue with any kind of AFAB person or any woman. all woman and AFAB people struggle with having their symptoms taken seriously when seeking serious medical attention to the point of possibly being undiagnosed for life, thus being unable to get on disability. trans women face this just as much as AFAB cis women, it's a huge issue in the medical industry

transmasculine people struggle to say on their hormones (or access them at all). testosterone is a controlled substance in many countries which means that you need a prior authorization to get the medication and need to consistently see a provider to get blood tests and check ups. it can be difficult to do so if you are low income and sometimes certain pharmacists will intentionally find ways to withhold hormones due to their own prejudices

transmasculine people struggle to get pregnancy support and care. it is very difficult for transmasculine people to figure out how to navigate their pregnancy, either due to their HRT provider not knowing much about pregnancy, or having a gynecologist who's not familiar with transmasculine health.

transmascs get denied from spaces made for men constantly. even if they pass, if word gets around that they're trans they can easily be kicked out of a space. transmasculine lesbians are often removed from lesbian, transmasc and/or non binary spaces. transmasc butches are often ostracized from all communities their identities correlate to. trans men and transmasc enbies are seen as a threat to women.

there is ugliness in every pocket of the queer community when it comes to how cisheteronormative society treats us. we all face disgusting treatment that needs to be addressed. it's important to consider how this system affects everyone underneath it. we need to talk about the positive things, it's good to help those are questioning, but we also must discuss what struggles we face in order to humanize ourselves and show that we people, too. none of us have it easy.

[killerlookz]

Can u post a preview of heartbeat pleaseee im so desperate i’ve missed this au so bad

yessss.... i can :3, ahh happy WIP wednesday everyone hehehe

heartbeat! au: part 4 preview under the cut!

rpf warning, do not continue if uncomfortable!

Joost scoffs, his presence in the room suddenly overwhelming.

"You're kidding right?" His voice is dry, you can tell he is, at the very least, trying to not be accusatory, instead it just comes across as demeaning.

"What?" You're confused, unsure of what the supposed joke is.

"That you love him. You don't really? You're just saying that."

"Oh," You pause, looking down at your lap, realizing you're still undressed, "Yeah, I guess- no- I don't"

"You guess?"

"Yeah," You shrug, unsure of what he's getting at, "I guess."

"No fucking shit." Accusation becoming richer in his tone, he smiles in pure disbelief, his voice almost a laugh, "You have fucking feelings for him." He shakes his head, seemingly bewildered.

"No- I, no. I didn't say that." You turn towards Joost, stammering, you know how this will end, "No no-no I don't."

"Bullshit." He spits, standing up from where he'd been sitting on the bed, "Do you love him?" He steps to your side of the bed, standing over you, tilting his forehead down, fully interrogating you now.

Joost had never been intimidating to you, not like this, sure, before you had started dating and when you'd had a little crush on him he had made you nervous, but not intimidated.

"No- I-" God you're pathetic, stuttered no's are just about the only thing you can muster out of your mouth. You beg for any other sound to leave your mouth, but it won't, you can't.

"Say it then." His jaw clenches.

"Say what?"

"Say you have absolutely no feelings for him, tell me you don't love him."

"Joost," You start, pulling the comforter up to the chest, sensing an argument approaching, and preferring not to do it naked, "Stop this, what are you trying to prove?"

"Wanting to cut things off, wasn't about being unfair to Michael, it's because you love him." He's got it all wrong, at least, you're pretty sure he does.

"No, no, Joost that's not true I was just sick of the guilt, the sneaking around, I just want to try, I want to try to be a good person." It's all too much, tonight has been far, far too much, the warm tears finally beginning to brim in your waterline, obscuring your vision of Joost hovering above you as you look up at him. You attempt to blink them away, but the fluttering of your lashes just propels the small droplets down your cheek.

"Just, look me in the eyes, and tell me you don't have feelings for him." He's practically begging, the anger in his voice is only surface level, insecurity and anxiety buried deep beneath the demanding words.

"Please, stop, you don't need to be like this." You're fully crying now, unable to take this interrogation, god, why can't you just tell Joost you don't have feelings for Michael, why won't the words come out of your mouth?

"Exactly." Joost's face writhes, throat bobbing as he swallows down what you can assume is a desire to begin to cry, "Get out."

"W-what? Why?" He's never been like this before. Many times has Joost been angry with you, furious even. But kicking you out? That was a new one. You're unsure of what has gotten into you, and you'd be lying if you said it ddidn't frighten you just a little. "Get out?" You repeat, eyebrows furrowing, choked words barely above a whisper.

"No," He sighs, and you hope he's come to his senses. "No- no, whatever. I'm sleeping on the couch. You can leave first thing in the morning. I'll give you what you so clearly want, we'll end things here." He sounds defeated, the anger finally subsiding in his voice, giving way to whatever emotions it had been meant to mask.

[quinnyundertow]

The first time that y / n interacts with toji he basically sexually assaults her, do you think that he has the capacity to take advantage of someone in that way? I dont mean to offend you when asking this, because I look up to you a lot as someone who writes very well. But I think that this facet of a character being brought up is very interesting, because people don't really like to talk about how sometimes their favorite characters (that are canonically bad people) can do bad things that aren't just killing other people. Their favorite characters can do bad things like raping people. And I think it's really interesting how you picked up on that, I guess this is my long winded way up asking you to expand upon it because I really appreciate the thoughtfulness put into the way you write these characters.

I want to preface this by saying this is my opinion from my character studies. I don’t want to debate or argue with anyone about his character and why he is the way he is. Now on to the long response.

No offense taken at all. Toji is such an interesting character because he’s very realistically human. It’s going to take me delving into his character to answer this. Toji was created in a horrifying environment (Zenin clan) that had no respect for women or life. He was born and trained to be a killer of curses and people alike. He was told he was nothing because he lacked powers a sorcerer would have while being told he was still better than women and non-Zenin’s. Talk about a chaotic and confusing environment. Despite it all, miraculously, he fell in love and forsook everything he was taught growing up. He clearly respected and loved Mamaguro. He went straight and narrow and stopped being a hit man for her. Unfortunately, they lived happily ever is not the way this story ends.

In the second phase of Toji’s life, post mamaguro he falls into a deep depression where he forsakes any and all things that made him human. He refuses to consciously let himself care about anyone (including himself) because he can’t take the agony of losing someone he loves again like that. He shows this to the point where he has moments where he “forgets” Megumi exists. He falls back on what he was taught growing up and feeds his darker emotions. He’s known as the sorcerer killer, and he shows his total disregard for life by killing Kuroi a completely unnecessary death in the hidden inventory because he didn’t care enough to hold back. He takes a job to murder a child (Riko) because he wants to stick it to sorcerer society. He’s self destructive and kills just to drink and gamble all the money away. He’s also according to Gege a womanizer that sleeps with older more wealthy women for money.

Here’s the thing a lot of people refuse to see. Toji doesn’t have to do any of these things; he chooses to. If he truly wanted to destroy sorcerer society he could have. He could have wiped out the Zenin clan easily. If he wanted to just gamble and drink 24/7 he could rob banks or the rich. Instead he chooses to debauch himself and sink into every indecent thing he knows; it’s like an advanced form of self harm. He drinks to forget what a piece of shit he is now and to forget what he’s lost (mamaguro) and what he’s running from (Megumi). While killing, strategizing, and gambling for a brief high. He has moments of clarity, right before he dies and when he sells Megumi off, but those are few and far between.

So back to the original question. Does Toji have the capacity to sexually assault someone? Rape someone? In my opinion, Absolutely. He would do it, enjoy basking in the animalistic side of it and absolutely despise himself for doing it afterwards.

Why do I think this? He degrades and abuses Suguru (a child) and enjoys it. He’s sadistic and enjoys mocking and beating him when he’s already knocked out. He only doesn’t murder him because it would be inconvenient to deal with the curses Suguru holds in his body. Toji has proven he knows right from wrong and that he doesn’t have to be a hit man to survive. He’s already done these things before and is choosing not to.

All these factors considered he can and does still choose to hold back or be a “good” person at times. He acknowledges he’s a shit father by selling off Megumi saying he’s better off that way despite knowing how bad it is even to the blessed. He holds back from murdering the man he bumped at the gambling salon because it wasn’t worth the effort. He doesn’t kill the Zenin clan because he still cares about them despite everything. Finally, he sacrifices his life for his son at the end of it all.

Gege is a master character creator when he takes the time to (allowed creative time and freedom to). Which is what makes Toji such a fun character to write. He has shown the capacity to be good and evil. He has the capacity to change if someone gives enough of a fuck and if he allows it.

Thank you for the question and you’ll have to see how our YN fares in this next arc. ☺️

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Christmas Kindness submission

To Qoldenskies,

I’ll straight up say it. You write my favourite Donnie angst out there. There’s the obvious masterpiece that is the Canary Continuity, and the horrifically underrated Coming Undone. Both are such visceral, heartbreaking experiences that I have enjoyed from start to finish. And Caged Lungs broke me down. Miner’s Eulogy was what shattered me, though, and Clipped Wings? What a RIDE. With each chapter you post, I can’t believe we’re getting closer to the END. Not the END. I don’t want it to end, but it’s gotta. We do need that promised happy ending.

Honestly, your interpretations of the characters? Especially Donnie? They’re so well thought-out and clever. There’s so many important layers to them and what drives them, and it all comes together SO WELL. You’ve definitely done your homework and put a lot of care into your stories. It shows.

What I also have to praise is how beautifully crafted the writing ITSELF is. The metaphors and parallels are so clever. You use them masterfully to paint a better picture of the characters and their struggles. It’s like you have two narratives running at once, sometimes, the obvious one, and the supporting one that explains so much. I don’t always catch that, since I’m not that smart, but I know it’s there. Commenters help me out by bringing attention to it. 

Emotions? Spot on. I feel so much, and the experiences are painted so viscerally that it’s hard not to feel along with the characters.

And I wanted to also bring up one more thing. I really like how you ‘distort’ and break up the dialogue when the characters are in distress. The stammering, the added words, (for examples, “I’m— I’m too muh-ch,” “something’s wro-wrohng, Raph and Leo are ouh-out—“ (cu) “I’ll d-do– I’ll do any-hhh-thing,” “I’ll– I’ll clean it up, I promi- hhh -se!” (cl)) really helps me HEAR how they’re talking. I’ve never seen stuttering or dragged-out words articulated so ‘as-said’— meaning, that is exactly the noises they’d be making if you heard them (particularly the shuddering of breath that accompanies then ‘hhh’, if that makes sense). This is probably my favourite little detail exclusive to your work. I absolutely love it. It’s such a small thing but it definitely enhances the reading experience.

Because I don’t want to leave out your ‘smaller’ fics, I wanted to say that I have read Circomvating Death, too. It definitely is a nice little refresher to all the angst (but I LOVE angst), and I’ve enjoyed the humorously chaotic adventures of Donnie and Casey Jr. Whenever you get back around to writing for that, I’ll look forward to seeing where they go next!

And Enhancements? Short but sweet pain. The idea of NO existing painkillers working on them makes a lot of of sense. The super-soldier piece is such a fun little concept to play around with, whether for badass purposes or whump. I also love seeing the concept referenced in your other stories. It works great as a little headcanon establishment. It doesn’t need to be a massive masterpiece to still be great.

I know you’re also planning Where We Went Wrong as a B-team sep AU, and I’m definitely looking forward to that and your bad things happen bingo prompts! I know all that’s in the right hands, and 

You have a lot of talent, and you deserve all the positive feedback, fan art, and fanfics you’ve gotten so far.

And I did read the post where you said that your family is too poor to celebrate Christmas, but I hope you can cherish the time you all have together regardless (and beat that Christmas Curse that’s plagued you for the past couple years). <3 Have a great one! Wishing you all the best.

@qoldenskies

Christmas Kindness Event Post

[hadesisqueer]

Okay, I'm going to tell you the full context of the particular protagonist of this post so you tell me if this guy is just rightfully complaining because he's sick or if he's being a whiny asshole. His wife is an old family acquaintance that told us this over dinner in Christmas.

Guy had a blocked nose and a headache. He started rightfully complaining about it and his wife asked if he wanted to go to the doctor. He said that no, and when his wife offered some medicine, he refused to take it, saying that "it's not that bad" and he just sat on the couch watching TV. Wife also felt unwell, with a blocked nose and a huge headache as well. So she took some medicine and went to bed to take a nap. Then, barely half an hour later, the husband called her from the living room. She asked what did he want. Guy told her that their kid made a mess trying to pour himself some juice and broke something and there was glass all over the floor. Wife got up from the bed, went downstairs and started cleaning the mess because the option was that or her 5yo son getting hurt while trying to clean it herself while the husband stayed on the couch. Then two minutes later the guy calls from the living room again saying he wanted some warm milk and honey. Wife told him where the milk and the honey were. He said that he didn't feel well and told her to bring it to him. Wife, who's also sick and busy cleaning at that very moment, asks him again "do you wanna go to the doctor?" and he refused. She asked if he wanted some medicine and he, really stubborn, said "no, it's not that bad". Then the wife already fed up tells him "well then if it's not that bad you can either warm your own milk or clean this up" and the guy started whining about how she wasn't being fair to him. So, yeah. The guy is just a whiny asshole when he's sick.

As to how many stubborn guys do I know that whine a lot and become jackasses when they're sick. Well I have a huge ass extended family so unfortunely many dudes. There's people like my cousin's boyfriend who starts absolutely coddling her or their daughter the moment they start feeling bad and there's some others who do really not do anything when their kids or wives feel sick, they just sit around and hope they don't get sick too, and if they do they do expect to get babied and even though when the wife was also feeling unwell he didn't do anything. Generation shift, those guys are all boomers.

A big change is that my dad isn't a jackass when he's sick; my sister is (diversity win: women can be assholes when they're sick too /j). However, when I'm sick, my mom is the one who takes care of me, and when she's sick I'm the one who takes care of her. When we're both unwell at the same time? Good luck. Dad works a lot and my sister is never home.

How many times have people disbelieved my suffering? Very often unfortunely. And mostly by guys, too. Cis men teachers who believed period cramps isn't enough reason for me not to be able to do P.E. that morning and forcing me to run anyway. Doctors who thought the reason I felt sick was my period without even checking anything and then it turned out I had the stomach flu. Me not even complaining about anything at all but looking off and being asked what's wrong and I say "migraine" or "my bad ankle hurts today" and this man whining saying that I always have something. You're damn right men deserve to complain if they're sick but there's a difference between complaining and like you very well said being a jackass, and that guy and many other guys I know are jackasses. And you're damn right I deserve being able to complain, too. I do and I don't care if people think I'm faking it. I'm just not a jackass.

Is there any creature weaker and that whines more in this world than an adult man who's mildly sick

[katyspersonal]

I still hate y'all cringe loosers who blame Fromsoft for the things the fandom does as if they didn't shepherd the fans well enough or whatever this nonsense is.

"Wahgh now everyone writes Marika as just a traumatized baby that did nothing wrong all because FromSLOP gave her tragic backstory and didn't elaborate on why genocide is bad on every occasion!!!!!! 🥺" don't get me wrong, innocent uwwu soft baby wholesome Marika that just wipes the daaaangerous race IS an absolutely abhorrent bastardization of character and story, but people who do this take do so because they choose their preference over canon and are wilfully ignorant about all that clashes with it. Fromsoft made it clear Marika is an interesting and compelling villain, to be both understood AND judged, and SOTE pointed out how horrid thing the Crusade was multiple times. Same with Griffith evil sick bastard Miquella manipulator; people write him off like this because they like Berserk or because they get off to this sort of villain over what he is in canon, not because of his nonexistent "character assassination 🥺"!

Fromsoft gave enough clues for their own stance, enough context, enough information and enough angles! They did what they could to write characters like real people and not caricatures, and gave enough clues to not make the story schooling you! But even IF they basically sat players down to hammer down the "genocide bad mohg beyond help miquella fell from grace revenge not answer" like if they were babies who haven't developed media analysis skill on their own yet, even THEN some people would still ignore it! Because some people use canon as just a bunch of prompts to shape it into what they like more, and there is no limit to how far it can get divorced from the source material! It is not something Fromsoft, or ANY writers of ANY story can prevent no matter what! And they should not try to! Because freedom of fandomry includes freedom of takes we absolutely dread to see! It's always been a double-edged sword!

Honestly, SOTE haters like this should not even be considered fans of Elden Ring, because they engage in these debates in a bad faith. Which "person that just engages with media critically 🥺", in their right mind, is going to seriously imply that Fromsoft sucks because they've failed to prevent creative freedom? What, do you guys want Miyazaki to go on Twitter and post "btw guys genocide bad mohg beyond help miquella fell from grace revenge not answer and if you dare to like it the other way my story is not for you you media illiterate weirdos lmaoooo"? Some people will always just use our blorbos as skins for their own fantasies and wishes, it can be irritating, but stop blaming those who created the blorbos for it, especially when they did enough?

[myfairkatiecat]

Okay I’m going to say it, some of y’all treat the KOTLC tag like it’s a tumblr community instead of an organization system that gathers together everything people post and tag as KOTLC

[morrigan-sims]

Fashion Fit for an Empress

I saw the 5th dress in my game while trying to dress another sim and immediately dropped everything to put it on her. And then things spiraled a little bit, and she ended up with 12 new outfits.

[restinpeacesensei]

traditional style 💖