#and Robert would be a bit of a bully

[bluetraverser]

I kinda want to write a story where two guys crushing on another get peer-pressured into arm-wrestling and it’s super awkward and they get really flustered but aren’t supposed to show it cause hetero-normative jock-enviornment...

[dearsnow]

A WAITING GAME

- coming from a broken family, you often had to wait for next time you would be loved. meeting your new neighbor changed that. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, angst and fluff, SLOW BURN, essentially just scenes of you growing up with our favorite WSO, slight prequel to the events of top gun: maverick, includes random original characters to drive the plot ⚠️ alcoholism is a major theme, some instances of harassment from a bully, and like one sexual innuendo but nothing graphic)

word count: 20,135

a/n - ohhhh my gosh, it’s finally here 😭 it’s genuinely the size of a novella, which is insane. i really hope you guys like this bc it took so much time and effort. it’s also the longest thing i’ve ever written, which is amazing in its own right. if you’re the type to listen to music while reading, i suggest a steady stream of hozier, noah kahan, phoebe bridgers, and leith ross <3

Your whole life was a waiting game. Waiting for school to end, for school to start again, for the house across the street to finally have new occupants, for your mother to put the bottle down, for the fairies you were so sure existed to appear in your popsicle stick fairy house, for your stones to finally skip across the creek, for something, anything to happen before you drove yourself insane. And, above all else, you waited for love. It was a pitiful way to grow up, really. Just sitting and letting the days pass by so you couldn’t feel the burning ache of loneliness that writhed and spat in your stomach. You never thought that you could cease this pattern of waiting for something that would never fulfill you, until, inevitably, things changed.

The “for sale” sign that you could see so clearly from your second-floor bedroom window had been replaced by a cheery “sold” sign. Something about it excited you; new neighbors, new people to talk to and play with and bother with your incessant imagination. There was also fear, too. The fear that they would turn a blind eye to the scent of cigarettes woven into your papered walls and the nail marks on the insides of your palms. You took your mind off the notion when you saw a boy right around your age step out of the moving van.

He had glasses, sandy brown hair, a cast on his foot, and a scared little frown. You slid off your bed with a small huff, your socked feet hitting the dusty carpeted floor. This was something new, for once. The stares of the stuffed animals strewn around your room comforted your mild anxiety as you walked through your door frame and down your rickety wooden stairs. You had to move one foot down and then pull the other to match. You were too afraid of keeping just one foot on a single step, even while you clutched the peeling handrail. You hit the bottom and opened the unlocked front door, peering out into the hazy, sunny day.

You were still in your socks, but you figured it didn’t matter. They were pink and yellow striped, just a bit too small. You traipsed across your dying front lawn and across the street, cautiously watching for cars. There were none. The boy turned, his blue eyes locking with yours, and you froze. It was the middle of a hot Montana day, the dry, summery kind that makes your mouth shrivel up, but all you could focus on was how he looked at you with curiosity. Gone was the frown. You peered down, staring into the black asphalt. Oh. You were still on the road. Your feet moved on their own, and you found yourself on the sidewalk, toeing the grass of his lawn. It wasn’t dying.

“Your socks are inside-out,” was the first thing he said. His voice was quiet and kind, like he was trying not to embarrass you. He pointed at the threads hanging off of the seams.

You nervously tucked your hands behind your back. “I know. I like them to be.” He accepted the statement, pulling his hand back and planting it nervously on his hip. His one sock was right-side-in and tucked into a little orange shoe.

That day, as mundane as it was, became one of your favorites to remember.

The next day, after your introduction, you and the boy (who you quickly came to know as Bobby) went down to the creek. His mother had supplied you with sandwiches and cookies in little brown paper bags, folded neatly and marked with your names. You had never eaten out of a brown paper bag before.

Bobby was careful in how he scaled down the small, rocky hill that bordered the creek. He smartly put your lunches on a safe outcropping, to be eaten later. While climbing, he put all his weight on his non-injured foot and was sure to not step on any stray branches. You, having been down this path many times, guided him.

“Don’t step there, Bobby. That’s where the snakes are.” You said, eyeing the little gathering of rocks. He hummed gratefully and adjusted his path.

As you both made it to the bottom, he made sure to stay far enough away from the water so as to not wet his boot. You, however, didn’t really care. Your feet plunged into the soggy ground; it’s not like your shoes weren’t meant to get dirty. He picked up a stick and poked at the rivulets of water in front of him, squinting into the glare. “So, how old are you anyway?” He asked. He was crouched down to help the slightly too short stick prod into the mud.

“Seven.” You responded. You had picked up a stick of your own. “How old are you?”

He watched your movements with careful eyes. He was always watching, you noticed. Always planning. It’s like he was trying to predict every movement of the creek, every motion of your arms. You felt a shiver run down your spine. You didn’t think you could ever be so observant. “I’m eight, been eight for five months now,” came his steady voice. He furrowed his eyebrows as you waved your stick into nothingness, jabbing at something he couldn’t see. He gazed at the air like whatever you were so focused on would materialize if he stared hard enough. “What’cha fighting?”

You smiled crookedly. You could see the scene so clearly in your mind. You and him on a pirate ship, fighting off the attackers who were trying to claim your ride. You were balancing on the plank, sword ready. “Pirates. It’s real fun, you should try.” You slashed the air and saw clothes tearing, blood pooling at the wood under your feet. 

“How do I try?” He asked curiously. He stood up fully and held his stick in both hands.

“Just imagine. They’re coming from a ship across the creek, and our ship is here. I’m… I’m fighting the one with a big axe, and the one comin’ after you has a shiny sword.”

Again, he raked his gaze over the creek in front of him like he was trying to see exactly into your mind. He gave his sword an experimental swing, and you laughed from beside him. “You hit him! Keep going, we’ve almost won.” His eyes lit up, and he began fighting like he saw it too. 

He smiled, and you cheered him on, making sure to fend off your own opponent. The creek bubbled, and he could hear the ocean roaring. He could see the flag flying high above his head, the ship across the ocean, could hear the ‘shing’ and ‘swish’ of his sword. And he saw you, warm and full of life, immersed in this world you had created. He didn’t think he had seen anything quite so pretty.

In the days after that, you saw Bobby often. He never went inside your house, though, that was off limits. Instead, you went to his.

His mom was kind. She was the type of woman to greet you with a hug, the smell of warm food simmering on a pot behind her. Her apron was stained with food and love and tiny paint handprints. When you ran up to his door and knocked (you were too short to reach the doorbell), she would open it kindly and invite you in.

Bobby’s room became a kind of utopia for the both of you. For the first few days, you would help him unpack his toys and crafts and other things of the sort. He had a lot of green army men, you noticed. But after that, you played and played until his mom had to kindly remind you of his bedtime. Your favorite games were imaginary.

He would be a merchant selling his toys, each with a special magical power. You’d assume the role of a traveling knight and barter with him, finally picking out what you believed would help with your quest. Then, in a twist of fate, Bobby would invent some sort of way the magical item went wrong, leaving the both of you to dream up new methods to best your foe. Or you’d be a mermaid and he was the sailor you were friends with. Sometimes, and this was his favorite game, he would be a pilot in the military, and you would be the person giving him instructions on the ground. He would shoot his arms out like airplane wings and soar, causing you to collapse into giggles on his soft rug. You formed a bond with him like no other. By the end of the summer, you knew him inside and out, and he knew you too.

You knew he liked blueberry syrup instead of maple on his pancakes, that his favorite subject was history, how he had a little sister three years younger and an older brother who was in middle school, and the exact expression he made when things went a awry; this sort of half-pout, where his bottom lip would jut out a bit. You knew that he got his cast from slipping on a stone in a big river during a camping trip, and even though he hates not being able to move, he thinks the scar on his ankle is pretty cool. And he knew that you were the most creative person he’d ever met, there was a monster that lived in your house, you had never broken a bone, and your eyes shone if the light hit them at the right angle. 

When you finally left, as the sun was dipping down the horizon, you felt lighter.

The days without his presence were much harder.

Your mom was a hard person to pin down. She would leave early in the morning, dressed in her work clothes, and return late at night, stinking of the bar. Sometimes you’d see her periodically throughout the day, between her two main events, but she was elusive. She would stroke your hair during moments like this, eyes filled with something you only later realized was regret. 

You loved her too much to notice that the way you were living was not at all how a child should grow up. You survived off of your dingy little microwave and frozen food when you weren’t with Bobby and his family. The nights, however, were worse than being alone all day.

You would pretend to be asleep more often than not, but you couldn’t really be asleep with how much noise she made. Shouting words you didn’t recognize into the phone, slamming doors, crying, pulling the magnets off the fridge and shattering the few framed pictures that were scattered around your house. It made the pit inside of you grow larger and larger.

Afterwards, when she was done with her rampage, she’d sweep up the pieces and put everything back together. She would spell out notes for you in the fridge magnets. She would open your door, just a crack, and whisper, “I love you, baby. I’m sorry.” with a blown kiss. You knew she was sorry. You knew she loved you, that she kept the cabinets stocked with the snacks you liked from two years ago, around the time she first started drinking. There was nothing you knew more than how bad she felt for treating you like she did. In your mind, you forgave her. She was doing her best. That didn’t stop you from wishing you lived in Bobby’s little house, with his kind and loving mother and stern but kindhearted father. You wished for pirates and pilots and blueberry syrup. 

Sometimes, you just imagined you were there, tucked under his navy blue comforter. That thought filled the pit just enough to let you drift off to sleep.

As the days grew shorter and the weather chillier, school started. School was fun until it wasn’t.

The first day was always the best, in your opinion. You never really had any friends to miss if they were placed into other classrooms, and some of the other kids didn’t even know who you were. It was scary, sure, but it was new. It was a fresh start. This year, though, you had Bobby.

Luckily for the two of you, you were both in Mrs. Moore’s class. Even luckier for you, Brady was not in Mrs. Moore’s class. 

The boy had a tendency to pick on you in school. Ever since first grade, when he caught you whispering to a dandelion, he made every day in school tougher.

He would knock your books out of your hands, scribble on your drawings, and tear your flower crowns apart. You didn’t know why. He just didn’t understand your far-eyed expression and your tendency to bury your nose in books. He was loud, with a grating voice and windswept blond hair, and people liked him. He played sports and shared his lunch. That made him very, very different from you, in a way that was hard for child brains to accept. 

You were scared that Bobby would find his own trouble here. He was quiet, and that made him a target. He was too kind, too caring, too good at blending into the background. 

You walked up to classroom B8, holding your little dirtied backpack on one arm. The door was painted a sort of industrial teal, with a chipped but cheery sun done in acrylics in the middle. The title, a magnet, read “Mrs. Moore fun!”. Bobby hesitated from next to you. He held out a silent hand, and you gripped it in yours. His hands were bigger, warm and slick with a thin sheen of nervous sweat. Knowing someone else was going through the day with you was a quiet comfort, so you met his wavering eyes and smiled. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

The door swung open, and a woman with a brown bob ushered you inside. She had big pencil earrings and a pretty patterned dress. She showed you to your seats, and you were happy to learn that you were just one person away from your friend. In between you was another girl with bouncy auburn curls and freckles, whose name card read “Margaret”. You didn’t know her, but she offered you a kind grin.

“Hello, class!” Mrs. Moore began. “I know you saw my name on the door, but I’d like to learn all of yours today. How about we go around and say our names and favorite colors so I can take attendance?”

Your time in the quaint little classroom sped by like a whirlwind, barely giving you enough time to adjust to everything before you were ushered out to be served lunch and play on the sun-faded playground. Bobby’s mom had packed you both lunch today. It was like she knew that your mom couldn’t, and that you never had the money to buy the school lunch. It gave you this warm sort of emotion, like a fuzzy sweater. You and he sat on a bench shaded by a rickety old tree.

He chewed his sandwich thoughtfully as you went for the little bag of Oreo cookies first. “How do you like it here?” You asked, biting into the crumbly treat.

“It’s okay. Back in my old school, our playground had wood chips instead of sand,” he commented simply. “I like being here with you, though.”

You beamed. Bobby had lived in the town adjacent to yours before he moved, still in Montana, but with a different atmosphere. He often noted the differences, like how the cars here sputtered more and there was never quite enough shade. This, however, was all you had ever known. It was all you ever thought you could know. Your world ended after the big road that cut you off from the rest of society. Bobby made you want to wait for the day you could cross that road, in your own car that hopefully didn’t sputter, and see the world that he had known. “Me too. Most everyone is pretty great here, you’ll see. Just watch out for Brady, the one on the monkey bars. He might try to tease you.”

“Why would he?” Bobby questioned. He studied where you gestured, light eyes straining against the bright sun and wavy heat coming up from the asphalt. 

You started on your sandwich, which was beginning to warm. You didn’t mind. “I dunno. He’s just like that, I guess.”

“He must be mean,” The boy beside you said, finishing off the last bite of his sandwich. He never chewed with his mouth open, you noticed. He kept it neat and tidy. “Anyone who picks on you has got to be.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, so you buried yourself into eating your sandwich. “Thanks. I hope he doesn’t pick on you, ‘cuz you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Bobby’s face turned a shade of red you had never seen on him, and suddenly the hand that was underneath yours was fidgeting against the wood of the bench. “You really think so?”

“I know so. You’re nice, and you let me play with your glasses. And you’re really good at climbing, even with your boot. And you make me feel good.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up impossibly high as he handed you his bag of Oreos. He liked sweets, sure, but he liked giving them to you more. He could sit there and watch you eat forever if it meant you smiled like you were doing now. “You make me feel good too, like I can’t stop being happy.”

“Ex-act-ly!” You punctuated each syllable with a little tap of your finger on the back of his hand. When he was around, you felt like you could fly. Every dandelion, 11:11, shooting star, fallen eyelash, they all went to trying to keep him in your life. Without you knowing, he did the same thing. “Oh, do you want to see what I drew during art time?”

The conversation carried on, although there are snippets you don’t remember. Something about the stray cat that you saw down at the creek and the field trip the older kids bragged about going on. Looking back on it, that era seems so far away that it could have been another life. You were so small then, so hurt, and so innocent. You just had your neighbor and dreams, both waking and asleep.

School continued, and you and Bobby began to fall into a sort of rhythm. You would pass notes to each other through Margaret, play hopscotch and four-square and wall ball until you were tired of running around, learn until you thought your brains would explode, and walk home, laughing and bright-eyed. Even Brady couldn’t dull the shine. Bobby was, surprisingly, a hard person to make fun of. Despite being quiet, he would puff up his chest and stand strong in the face of any adversity. Mostly, though, he stood up for you. He would pick up your books, help you turn scribbles into twisting dragons, and make you new flower crowns when Brady tried anything during recess. Bobby cared. In a sense, though neither of you knew what the word really meant, he loved you. So he took care of you, and you filled his life with so much wonder and joy that he wished he could be with you forever. It was like that for a long, long time. 

The years came and went in elementary school. For once, you accepted every day that came to you as a new era, a new chance to prove to yourself that life is more than crumbling foundations. You experienced growth; you no longer waited for things to be over. Instead, incredibly, you anticipated each coming event, no matter what it was.

It took you a while to realize that Bobby was the catalyst of your change.

Your 5th grade promotion was a blur of smiles and hugs and tears from Bobby’s mom, coral colored fabric, and paper confetti. You posed for pictures, sang a song, and received a little certificate to display in some homegoods frame that most mothers buy. Other than that, it was just another day. You went home and played with Bobby some more, like you always did. 

That certificate, crumpled and browned around the edges, is now sitting in a box, deep in your closet, paper-clipped to a photograph of you and Bobby. It rests against a snapped wishbone, one whose exact wish you have entirely forgotten, but it more than likely had to do with him. There is also a crushed penny, a number of birthday cards, and a wooden rose, among other things. It’s silly, you think, to keep them after so many years, but something in you begs to keep them safe. You suppose that you can’t be rid of every memory, not when the Floyds made so many good ones for you. 

Middle school was another stage in your life, one that swirled your emotions while all you needed was stability. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it was the beginning of years of confusing feelings.

Bobby stopped being Bobby during the 1,095 days between elementary and high school. He wanted to be called Robert, and he combed his hair back, and his voice started cracking. He listened to rock and metal instead of whatever his mom found on the radio. He didn’t turn into a bad person like some of his peers, no, but he changed. You remember the first time he put in contacts instead of his big, thick-rimmed glasses.

You were sitting on the edge of his sink as he pulled his eye wide open, his fingers trembling slightly. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to poke my eye out,” he whined, setting the finger that held the contact down. “But I don’t want to wear glasses, either. I’m too old for that.”

He stared at you while you let out a short, stifled laugh. “Don’t laugh, I’m trying my best,” he groaned, but his mouth was curving into a smile, too—it just always happened when you laughed, like how he couldn’t help but smile at wedding bells. 

“Can you even see what you’re doing?” You asked. You tapped the glass reflection to the side of you, sending out a soft clink. His vision had never been the best, but his optometrist just upped his prescription. He didn’t want to be seen with the thickness of the glass he was given, no, he wanted to “look cooler”. So there he was, with blurry vision and a nearly invisible contact balancing on the tip of his finger. 

“Yeah.” He paused, considering his options, before looking down with a sigh. “No. I can see the blue, but I have no clue if my eyes are two inches or two millimeters away.” He sounded so disappointed that it sent a twinge of hurt through your heart. He liked dealing with problems on his own, namely so that no one else would have to go out of their way to help him, so that must have been a humbling experience for him.

“Let me guide you, then,” you chirped. “I’ll use your hand to put the contacts in so you can get a feel for where to stop next time.” You let the tips of your fingers brush over his hand, ghosting over the raised hairs just enough to let him sense it. Robert squinted at you.

You seemed like an angel perched on the tile counter. He couldn’t see the exactness of your details, like the curves of your lips, but you had a form that he could recognize anywhere. The shade of your hair, the sparkle in your eye. He would carry those memories for as long as he lived. What worried him was that he didn’t know exactly how far away from him you were sitting. So, because he didn’t trust himself to not miss his eyes, and because he trusted you like he trusted his heart to beat, he agreed. “Okay.”

You took his hand in yours, careful not to knock the precariously balanced contact off, and he widened his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was because of your touch or because he wanted to assist with the contact placement. You slowly brought his hand up, towards his eye, feeling his pulse under your fingers. His lips were pursed, a testament to his nervousness. He never did like things touching his eyes, but he would brave it until he unavoidably went back to glasses. With a gentle, caring motion, you helped him rest the contact on his eyeball. He flinched at the initial touch, but accepted it, blinking rapidly to shake off the contact solution. His eyes were pretty, you noticed. As messed up as they were, they had the most intoxicating shade, like a stormy ocean. 

“Want the next one?” You were already unscrewing the contact holder as he nodded slowly. He closed the eye without a contact and gaped at you.

“I can see!”

“I think that’s what contacts are for,” you quipped. He pretended to roll his one eye, but you could see the humor bubbling up from within him. The lighting was nice, he thought. The way it shone around the edges of your hair was heavenly.

“Well, yeah. Could you help me with the other now?” He probably didn’t need much help this time, given that one half of him had 20/20 vision, but he liked feeling your hand on his. He liked being helped by you. It was a revelation for him, who had always been a bit of an independent spirit. Don’t get him wrong, he liked being around people, and as a kid he would clutch at his mother’s dresses, but he preferred to do certain things on his own. You changed that.

“Definitely.”

Things took a slight turn after that. School became harder, more work and less play. Your middle school was bigger than your previous school, so it came to no surprise to you that Robert made his own friends. Namely, he hung out with a tall, dark, curly-haired boy named Aaron and a shorter, sturdier, pale as snow boy named Samuel. They were alright, in your opinion. You liked Aaron much more. Sam became bossy and annoying when you let him ramble for too long, and though both Robert and Aaron were too polite to say, it annoyed them. It’s Aaron that you still talk to now, while Sam moved to upstate New York during your freshman year of high school.

The boys were not the most popular group in school, though you knew you weren’t either. But, to your surprise, your good friend Margaret was.

You didn’t really expect to become friends with her. She was loud, happy, excitable. She was always polite in elementary, but she truly took you under her wing as Robert started spending more time with his group. She introduced you to Sarah, Charlotte, Elizabeth, anyone that you could even remember the names of. And, along with her constant joviality, she wasn’t a bad friend.

The only problem was that she was deeply in love with Robert Floyd. 

“You don’t even get it ‘cuz he’s like your brother at this point, but he’s gorgeous. He’s basically perfectly my type,” she sighed, falling back onto her plush pink bed. Her legs kicked up just a little, and her curls fanned out around her head like a halo. “I want to ask him out soooo bad. Do you think he’d like me? Wait, do you know if he’s a good kisser? That’s important, I think.” You threw the pillow you were holding on top of her face, and her laugh rang out like the chime of a bell. She was perfect. She deserved someone like Robert, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You didn’t know why it hurt at the time. Just the idea of him dating someone else, holding hands with someone else, loving someone else, made you sick. You chalked it up to being jealous that eventually another person would take up your best friend’s heart. It was only much, much later that you realized you were in love with him, too.

Margaret tossed the pillow to the other side of her bed. “Really, you need to tell me.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “He'd like you, Margie. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Her smile was genuine. It hurt you to say, but you weren’t lying. You didn’t think you could ever lie about something like that.

“But is he a good kisser? Please, I need to know, I’m dying!” She prodded. You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the perfectly painted ceiling. Like everything about her, it was pristine.

“No idea. He’s never kissed anyone.” He could be good, maybe. Everything he did was soft and methodical, so just the idea of him capturing a person’s lips with his own, his calloused hand resting on the back of their head… no, you couldn’t think about it. Your eyes snapped to attention.

“I’ll have to change that.” Her tone was sing-songy, and to you, it sounded almost mocking. It couldn’t be, because neither of you knew your actual feelings, but it struck you the wrong way.

“I’m sure you will.”

Margaret tried everything to get closer to Robert. She flirted, she downloaded songs from his favorite bands, she begged and pleaded for you to invite him to every outing the two of you planned, and she talked to him constantly to try and worm her way into his heart. She never knew him like you did, though, and she hated it. 

When it was just you and him, things were different. You were the only one he let call him “Bobby” and play with his fingers when you were nervous. He even let you ruffle his hair, despite him spending half an hour in his bathroom trying to get each strand to lay perfectly. He would open his closet and pull out his comic collection without a hint of embarrassment, and you and he read them together underneath a blanket tent in the middle of the night—after his parents started letting you sleep over, of course. They gave you both “the talk” before you spent your first night there, and Robert was rolling his eyes and blushing the whole time. He would never do that with you, he assured them. You were just friends.

Friends who ultimately ended up falling asleep on the same bed, paying no attention to the blow-up mattress on the floor of his room.

In any case, you tried to get Robert and Margaret together. The time you tried the hardest was the start of your seventh grade year, when Margie insisted that she needed a boyfriend before Christmas. You, being a good friend, invited them both to go to the mall a short drive away from your houses. 

Margie’s mom drove, because she was always up for helping her daughter with her romantic interests. She knew about Robert, sending you and her daughter knowing smiles whenever he would politely answer Margie’s rapid-fire questions. You felt a little bad for the boy, who wasn’t used to so much attention.

The little car (too little, in your opinion; Margaret took the middle seat and was pressed against Bobby for the whole ride) finally arrived at the mall after a few minutes of slight awkwardness. You all stepped out, and Margie’s mom kissed her on the forehead and said she would be back in two hours on the minute. Two hours was a lot at that time. 

Your friend immediately pointed out a clothing store, pulling you along to look at flouncy dresses and colorful tops. You could tell that it made Robert a bit uncomfortable, but he went in anyway. During your usual mall trips with him, the both of you made a beeline for the comic store, or simply shared some pretzels while walking and talking. It was only rarely that you wandered into the clothing stores, and most of the time, you just looked and walked back out. You never had the money on you to buy anything more than a volume or two of a comic. “These shorts are just perfect, don’t you think?” She asked you, but her eyes were staring pointedly at Robert.

“They’re nice,” you said. He nodded in silent agreement, slipping his hand into the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t ever really have an opinion on clothes. Someone could wear the most awful outfit and he’d shrug, offering the notion that people should wear what they want, while Sam laughed at the silly combination. Margie tore through the rest of the store, giving you hanger upon hanger of clothing to hold while she rifled through the racks. Robert trailed behind. 

Just as the weight of the tops you were holding on your left arm accumulated into a painful soreness, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye. It was a dress.

Robert silently grabbed the clothes from you, following your line of sight. The dress was as close to perfect as a dress had ever been to you. The color, some variation of your favorite, complemented the tone of your skin perfectly when you held your arm up to it. The cut, the stitching, the little details sewn on��it was gorgeous. As you reached out to touch it, Margie squealed.

“That dress! I need it, grab it for me, would you?”

 You hesitated. It was the only one like it on the rack. Instinctively, you glanced back at Robert, and he had this confusing expression on his face that you had only seen once or twice; furrowed brows, tight lips, and a burning in his eyes. You looked away and took the dress down.

You probably wouldn’t be able to afford it. Checking the tag, you were right: thirty-eight dollars. Even after doing yard work and tutoring the little boy down the street, you hadn’t been able to keep that sort of sum. “Thanks,” she purred, “I’m gonna try everything on now. Wanna watch the fashion show?”

A part of you didn’t. You were envious, glowing green at the amount of things she could pick up without even checking the tag, but as a good, people-pleasing friend, you pushed it aside. So, you followed her past the door of the spacious dressing room while Robert waited outside with the clothes that didn’t fit into the ten item dressing room limit. 

She looked stunning in every outfit, but she threw most of the pieces off with a frustrated sigh. The waist wasn’t cinched enough, or the color clashed with her hair, or the pant legs were too short to cascade over the top of her shoes like she wanted. If you had the money, you didn’t think you would care. 

Then came time for the dress. It was one of the last things that she tried on, and she slipped it back over her head almost immediately after putting it on. “It just doesn’t work for my figure,” she muttered. 

You picked it off the floor gingerly, holding it up to yourself in the mirror. “Can I try it on?” You asked. She lit up with surprise, a happy glint dancing in her grin. 

“Of course! Go ahead.”

You undressed in the corner and stepped into the dress. Margie helped you smooth it out and fasten it just right, her fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades. When you looked in the mirror, your jaw almost fell open. 

It hugged you perfectly, the length stopping just where you assumed it was meant to stop. It was casual enough to be worn normally, but it had that fancy touch that made it suited for a romantic dinner date or uppity party. You almost looked like royalty. You could just imagine it, waving to crowds with a slow hand from a horse-drawn carriage. Bobby would be beside you, as always, and Margie and Aaron in the carriage behind you. Sam would be dealing with the horses. 

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a faint knock on the door. “Hey, are you guys ready? There’s a bit of a line out here,” came Robert’s voice. Margie was dressed by that point, so you opened the door, still clad in the dress.

“I just gotta change out of this and then we’ll be ready.” You gave a small twirl, and Robert choked on air. “It’s too expensive, but it’s nice to dream,” you said with a small grin. You didn’t know if it reached your eyes or not, but you knew the boy wouldn’t call you out for it. Not in public, at least.

You looked beautiful. That’s all that he could see, all that he could fathom. You slipped back into the dressing room, and he was left stunned. 

Before anything else, though, you looked happy in the dress. Sad that you had to leave it, but it made you happy. Robert was nothing if not a sucker for seeing you happy.

Your group finally checked out after a few minutes of the cashier ringing up Margie’s clothes. It was nearing the end of your mall trip, but you managed to visit the comic store and pick up a bite to eat along the way. At some point, while you were flipping through a comic book, Robert slipped away and returned with a grocery bag. It was something his mom wanted him to pick up, he said, and you didn’t feel the need to question him. You just mumbled a conversation starter into Margie’s ear and slipped away as she excitedly whipped around to relay it to him.

She never did win him over. She tried and tried, and you helped and helped, but it seemed he didn’t have an eye for her. 

Everything came to a sort of explosion near Christmas. The ground was powdered with a thick blanket of snow, the trees were bare, save for dripping ice, and houses put out beautiful, twinkling lights. There were even singing decorations from your neighbor to the left. When you breathed, the air would puff out in gentle clouds. It was, in essence, a perfect, picturesque winter. It was also one of your favorite times of the year.

Your mom always made an effort during the winter months. She came home earlier to hide in the bathroom, trying to muffle the sounds of wrapping paper and scissors. In the morning, you would see the fruits of her labor tucked under your little plastic tree. It wasn’t perfect, but she wanted you to experience some sort of joyful Montana holiday. You also spent more time indoors, snickering with Robert in the library or blowing on sweet hot cocoa by his crackling fire. It was times like these that you really felt at home.

His family knew about your situation. They didn’t make your mom feel like a villain, no, but they knew she was struggling, and they did their very best to help you out. That’s why you were bundled up on their couch on one frigid day, when Robert came home with a pinched frown.

He wasn’t mad, exactly. You had never known him to be mad. But he was uncomfortable in a way that made you want to throw your blanket over him and make him whisper his troubles to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. He wasn’t surprised to see you in his home—he never was. He sat down next to you with a heavy sigh.

“Margaret asked if I wanted to date her,” he murmured, throwing his head back against the couch cushions. This piqued your interest. You knew something like this would happen eventually, but you didn’t expect him to be so uneasy about it. Margie had been talking about asking him out for ages, and you just smiled and nodded. Her bright, bubbly personality was a large contrast to his, but you figured that opposites attracted. He had never shown a hint of distaste at being around her. No distaste that you had seen, at least.

You looked at him, confusion creasing your face. “What did you say?” Maybe it was just the wrong time. If he were to crush on anyone, it would be her, not that he had ever talked about his crushes to you. That seemed like something he would only tell Aaron, despite you being his closest friend.

“I said no. I just… I don’t like her like that.” His voice came out as an almost groan as he rubbed at his eyes. He turned his head to rest it on your shoulder. The weight sent a heavy warmth through you, but you were still so bewildered that it hardly even registered.

“I thought you would. Did she do something wrong?”

He shook his head, looking up at you, and then back down at the fire blazing away in his fireplace. Slowly, he wrapped your blanket around himself, as well, sharing your heat to ward off the cold. “No, she’s nice, but I don’t feel that way about her.” You still didn’t get it. If you were him, you would jump at the chance to date her. She was pretty, funny, and her family was well off. However, something in you uttered that it takes more than that to make someone love you. And that something was a bit happy, because Robert rejecting Margie meant that you could have him all to yourself again. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Do you feel that way about anyone else?”

That question breached the sanctity of your relationship in a way. You had never asked him about his love life, and he had never asked about yours. It was unspoken. You knew, deep in your heart, that if he asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say anyone’s name but his. 

His face was tinged with red. It was hard to see, but you knew it was there. “I dunno.”

You lapsed into a subdued silence, not knowing whether to press forward or not. You decided on the latter, just listening to the near-silent spitting of the fireplace. You knew that Margie wouldn’t be happy, and you would get an earful over the phone that night, but you knew that, like all things, this would pass.

Bobby would be your closest confidant for another Christmas.

You were right when you assumed that Margie wouldn’t take it well. You spent night after night listening to her laments, rubbing a soothing pattern on her back as she cried. You didn’t even know if she was upset that Robert didn’t like her or if she was upset that she got rejected, but you gave her a listening ear no matter what. The calls and in-person interactions only ceased when she went to spend the week of Christmas with her family in Utah.

You, naturally, spent most of your time with Robert. For the entirety of winter break, it was just you and him, which was something that hadn’t happened since elementary school. It gave you a chance to think about things—your feelings in particular.

You slowly realized that you didn’t want to just be his friend. You didn’t know it was love, not yet at least, but your heart beat faster when he was around, and you felt the need to keep him around for as long as possible. It was something further than platonic. A crush, maybe, that was only furthered by the events of Christmas day. 

You spent the rare morning with your mother, who had been given a single day off by her boss. It was odd to have her around to make breakfast, not smelling of the bar, and humming around a piece of toast. “It’s almost ready, honey. Why don’t you start on the presents while we wait?” Her voice was only slightly muffled by her food. You nodded silently and pulled out one of the three little gifts wrapped up under the tree. Two from her to you, and one from you to her. It didn’t disappoint you to not receive the dozens of wrapped boxes that your friends did; from a young age, you had realized that any gift at all was precious. You slipped your fingers beneath the wrapping paper and pulled the taped folds away gently, careful not to rip them. 

As you unfolded the creases, the box underneath revealed itself to you. It was a shoebox, and within were a pair of shoes that you had been eyeing for a while now. Your face lit up with surprise. She had really remembered? “Thank you, mom.” You grinned. She laughed, turning the heat off from under the scrambled eggs she was tending to. 

“I’m not a bad gift giver, hm?” she hummed, sitting down next to you. You pushed the gift that you wrapped for her into her grasp, and she looked down at it with a guilty expression. “I didn’t notice you got anything for me, sweet thing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be the type of mom that doesn’t deserve a Christmas gift.”

You took her hands off of the present and wrapped them around your shoulders, her normally cold fingers giving off a soft heat. “You aren’t. You do your best, mama, and I love you all the same.” You couldn’t bring yourself to be mean to her when she had spent an important part of her paycheck on you. It was true, that she did all she could think to do, but some part of you wanted her to be better. You still hoped that she could pull herself together and make breakfast for you every day, so you wouldn’t have to microwave pizza pockets or slump over to Robert’s house for a bite to eat. But you were her child, not Georgia Floyd’s, and hoping and wishing couldn’t change that. You had come to terms with it when you saw her watery eyes undoing your sloppy wrapping.

It was a jewelry tree that she said she wanted nearly five months ago. It was expensive, sapping your meager funds, but you knew it would make her happy. 

Your mother was one for jewelry and pleasantries, when pleasantries were made to be found. You figured that she liked to feel fancy, with glass diamonds and greening gold. It was the best gift you could think to give her.

She looked up at you as tears began to stream down her face. She wiped them away hastily. “Thanks, baby. I appreciate you more than you know, more than I could ever tell you.”

Your next gift was a book you had wanted for a while but could never seem to find at the library. You thanked her profusely, and spent the next half hour eating with her and talking. Like normal families do. Normal families with normal moms. You could almost picture a man, your father, coming in from the cold outside with the mail in his hands. A roaring fire, a sibling, a pet. Maybe a beagle like Bobby had. But the illusion was shattered when she pulled herself up and wrapped her scarf around her neck, muttering apologetically about having to pick up a Christmas shift after all as she hugged you close. You needed the money, she said. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

Nearly as soon as she left, there was a quiet knock on your door. You opened it slowly, not excited about hearing from the Jehovah’s Witness that frequented your neighborhood. Instead of him was Robert. And he was carrying a gift bag.

“Hi,” he blurted, “this is for you. Merry Christmas.” He handed you the bag, careful not to put his foot through the threshold of your house. You opened the door wider, a pleasant grin spreading onto your face. 

“Come in, I have something for you too.”

He hesitated. He had never been inside your house before. You had never explicitly told him he wasn’t allowed, but you usually had some excuse as to why he couldn’t stay over. Over the years, he had learned to just stop looking past the barely cracked-open door and pull you away to his place instead. But, with your insistence, he breached the unknown.

Your house wasn’t as furnished or comfortable as his, but it didn’t really matter. There were two brooms laid against the kitchen wall and a dustpan between them, and your small couch had a tear on the seam. The cabinets didn’t exactly close right, and your faucet leaked. Other than that, it was a normal house. He marveled at a picture of you and your mom stuck to the fridge with a magnet, with the edges folded over like it used to be in a frame. You let him wander for a minute or two before pulling him into your bedroom.

It was completely and utterly you. Books, comics, and little craft projects filled much of the shelf next to your bed, and the sheets were messily crumpled on your mattress. You had a little closet and a mirror that rested against it, slightly smudged with fingerprints. There was even a poster from some movie you liked hung above your headboard. You opened your closet and pulled a small wrapped parcel out from the depths. 

You handed it to him with a shy look. “I hope you like it.”

As he took the gift from you, he could feel a significant heft to the package. “I’d like anything if it was from you. It’s the thought that counts, right?” He sat on the edge of your bed as you nodded slowly. You were still a little worried that he wouldn’t be happy, but you knew him. He would thank you profusely if you had wrapped him a lump of coal. He might have even displayed it proudly on his shelf. The thought was enough to have you stifling a laugh. “You should open yours first.”

You obliged, pulling out the tissue paper delicately. Your fingers closed in around something soft, like fabric. Through the gaps of your hands, you could see your favorite color. Your heart leaped out of your chest. “Is this…?”

Bobby nodded, beaming. You took the article of clothing out fully and almost cried at the sight.

It was the dress you had wanted at the mall. The one that had fit you perfectly, and the one that Margie had almost taken from you. You hugged it to your chest. “Thank you, Bobby, thank you. I love it so much.” Your voice was quiet, brimming with emotion. He just opened his arms, and you dove into them, the both of you uncaring of the tear marks that would form on his thick jacket. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You exclaimed, louder this time, but still muffled by his chest. He just laughed and pulled you in closer.

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome.”

That meant more to you than anything else could have. Not only did he notice what you liked, he bought it when you couldn’t. It was more than just a gift. 

Robert would’ve given up his entire stash of money, carefully tucked away in his dresser drawer, to make you react like that. It was no contest.

He opened his gift next and had to scrub the wetness away from his own eyes. It was a model plane; more specifically, a version of the Super Hornet. The plane he had heard about entering service years ago, and the plane that he dreamed of flying. He ran his hands along the wings in wonder. “It’s perfect.” He choked out. “Thank you. I’m gonna put it on my shelf as soon as I get home.” You knew he would say something like that, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling good.

He stayed for a bit, after that, talking to you about anything and everything, as you usually do. It was nice to see him lying on your bed, staring up at your ceiling. And it was nice to have this sort of alone time with him. When he reached up to pick a piece of fuzz off of your shirt, you almost melted in place. You never thought your heart could beat that fast.

After he left, you felt your joy walk out the door behind him. All you could think was that you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

You never had to wait long.

The rest of middle school went by fairly quickly, as did Margaret’s sadness. She got over her affections before moving on to the next poor sap, dragging you along with her. After eighth grade, she would always mention how nice Aaron looked in his church clothes and how pretty his eyes were. Not having to worry about someone taking Bobby away from you was just another weight off of your shoulders. You also grew a lot during that time, physically and mentally. You were taller, happier, bigger, stronger. It was in part due to Rob, as he liked to be called sometime during your freshman year, and in part due to your mother finally going to rehab.

You didn’t know it was rehab. You didn’t know much at that age, not of yourself or other people, so it was just one more thing to add to the list. She just told you that you would have to stay at Rob’s for a few months, and they accepted your presence with kindness. His mom seemed to look at you sadly during that time. You chose to ignore it, focusing on how grateful you were to have a home while your mother was away. 

High school was better. Much better, in your opinion. You felt like things were finally coming together.

You had a small, quaint, stable friend group, consisting of you, Margaret, Rob, and Aaron. They were fun. You didn’t think you could enjoy going to football games or pep rallies until they were there with you, cheering and joyful. Even studying was full of inside jokes and nudging each other with your elbows until the flashcards were forgotten and the air was thick with laughter. You started to enjoy your classes, too, because you had a clearer goal in your mind. You were going to apply to your city’s college and room with Margie, considering you both got in. So you threw yourself into school with full force, hoping that your future would be just as great.

Rob wasn’t planning on going to your college. He hadn’t told you, not yet, but he was applying to the Naval Academy. He was finally going to achieve his dreams, even if he felt endless guilt about leaving you to be on your own. He didn’t want to lose you, but the temptation of the sky drew him in until he couldn’t escape the magnetizing force.

The first year was, other than a few football games and watching Margie perform in the school play, relatively uneventful. 

Dungeons and Dragons began to reign supreme as your group’s favorite pastime, although Margaret didn’t quite understand the story that Aaron concocted. To her credit, she tried. She played an elvish ranger with long flowing hair and a past of tortured princesshood, while you decided on a sweet halfling druid, and Rob a powerful human wizard. Nothing was more fun than losing yourself entirely to the tale, drawn in by Aaron’s dark voice impressions and the little figures that danced across the map he drew. It was a more grown-up form of playing pretend, and you were entranced by every second of every session.

By the time your mother returned home, fidgety yet quiet, you had established a nice sort of life. You moved back to your house, bittersweetly thanking Rob’s family for taking you in, and you spent the rest of the school year and the summer that followed with her. 

She was different. She wasn’t like she was prior to the drinking or during the drinking, but  a new person entirely, like she shed every part of herself and started fresh. She slept in, but got ready for work as you were walking out the door. She cooked, but with a tremor in her hand that was never present before. There were no more midnight rampages, but you got the feeling that she didn’t fall into her bed until very late hours. It was odd, at best, but like always, she did what she could with what she had. You continued to support her every step of the way.

Starting your sophomore year was less exciting than transitioning to a whole new school, and the nerves that had preceded every other year had faded into the background. You were more sure of yourself. Still naive, but there was some confidence in your step. The classes were tough, but you were tougher. Of course, the people who picked on you in the past were still jerks, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to. 

You finished the year with a smile on your face and a finger linked with each of your friends. 

Summer was the same as it always was. Fun, lazy, anything you wanted to make of it. You and the rest of the group frequented the lake closest to Aaron’s house, as his older brother was no stranger to driving you around in the car he had fixed up the summer previous. It was during one of those trips that you discovered quite a few things about the people around you.

Margaret was splashing around in the lake, completely unfazed by the freezing water. Well, she was fazed at the beginning, but she quickly adapted. “Come in, it’s so nice!” she called, flicking a drop of water towards you. You blocked it with the edge of your towel, not keen on getting your book wet.

“Later, I’m still reading,” you grumbled. Rob was perched behind you, reading over your shoulder as the pages flipped. You had just returned from the water and were trying to wait out the little kids that were flailing around in the shallows. 

She made a face until she spotted that Aaron was also out of the water. Shrugging, she stepped closer to the shore, and tugged on his arm. That action sent him stumbling into the lapping waves, to her delight. 

He let out an indistinct shout before resigning himself to being wet once again. “Warn me next time, geez! I could’ve died,” he moaned, pushing a wave of water straight into Margie’s face. She just laughed in delight. 

You ignored the two as you worked on your book, delving further into the story of a girl on a mountain, traversing through the thick forest in an attempt to wake her comatose father. Rob read right along with you, keeping your pace perfectly. You never needed to ask him when he wanted you to turn the pages—it was like your eyes read at the same speed, your brains processing the same things. Among other things, that was convenient. 

The air began to grow colder as you began the second-to-last chapter, the sun casting longer and longer shadows. It wasn’t evening quite yet, but the blazing afternoon sun had softened. You looked up with a start. It had clearly been a couple hours, but where were the other two members of your group?

You turned around to face Rob. “Have you seen Aaron and Margie recently?”

He quickly scanned the area with a slight look of panic sewn into his features. The lake was empty, the shore was clear of visitors, and even the sky was barren. “No, but we really need to find them before Marcus comes back with the car.” They were simply gone. “Here, why don’t you stay with our stuff and I’ll go look?” he suggested, standing to wipe the gravel off his shorts. 

“I don’t want to split up.” You were wary of the quiet, unsure if something would come out of the land around you and take you, too. “We can hide the bags in that dry spot under the dock and come back for them later.”

He just nodded in agreement, taking the larger share of your things and helping you conceal them within the rocks and overgrown water weeds. The two of you then set off to find your friends, calling their names into the sound of sloshing water and twittering birds. 

It was almost twenty minutes later when you began to hear someone sniffling and a distinctly feminine voice trying to calm them down. Margie and Aaron. You and Rob looked at each other, then swiftly moved towards them.

Aaron was crouched down in the middle of a little clearing, his head in his hands. Margie was sitting and whispering to him, something you couldn’t quite make out. You had never heard her whisper before. It didn’t matter, though, because they quickly spotted you.

“Guys, I’m not sure it’s a good-”

“No, it’s okay.” Aaron cut Margaret off. “They can hear it.”

You dropped to your knees to get on their level, Rob quickly following suit. “What happened?” you asked, gently reaching out to brush Aaron’s hand. His face was slick with tears, his normally neat hair lopsided like he had tried to run his fingers through the thick coils. 

He hesitated, slightly, but Margie patted him encouragingly. “Margie told me how she felt.”

Okay, another confession within the friend group. That wouldn’t explain the running away or the crying, at least not him crying, so what else? Rob spoke up, voice restrained. “How did that make you feel?”

“Bad,” he muttered, looking up at the girl with guilt in his brown eyes. “Not because I don’t like her, but because I can’t.” His voice trailed off into muffled sobs once again as he sunk into Margie’s arms.

Oh. You exchanged glances with Rob.

That wasn’t exactly news to you, but you had never been able to voice your suspicions out loud. It just made sense. Margie liked Aaron, and Aaron didn’t like girls. He didn’t even have to explain fully, you and Rob just hugged his shaking form. 

There was a very hushed, heartfelt talk after that. The fact of the matter was, you and your friends loved Aaron, and that was just a new fact about him for you to love. It also surprised you a little.

You knew you would be okay with it, but Rob and Margie grew up with you. They knew your area and the opinions that floated around. You never expected them to be hateful, no, but putting aside the thoughts that were so instilled in your hometown would be difficult for anyone lesser than them. It showed you that your friends wouldn’t dream of hurting the people around them, the people they loved.

When anyone, you included, presented the group with a new side of them, they were accepted with open arms. 

Junior year was tougher than the previous. Your rocks remained by your side, but certain people pulled at the strings binding your sanity like a child with a ball of yarn. One of those people ended up being Brady, who after a couple years of a mild hiatus, began making fun of you more than ever.

He was in all the same rigorous classes as you and your friends, leading him to be able to torture you during lessons. In addition to that, his last name was similar enough to yours for him to be placed behind you in most of those classes.

The vast majority of the torture involved stealing your belongings, throwing things at the back of your head, making fun of your looks, hobbies, anything, and passing you notes that read like a stupid teenage boy’s jeers. Sexual innuendos, frankly abhorrent pick up lines, and gross questions crumpled under your fist almost every day. 

You tried to tell the teachers, the principal, anyone that would listen, but they all said the same thing: boys will be boys. Brady was too good of a student and too important of an athlete to punish. Hell, the most he got for cutting off a section of your hair was a verbal warning. Every day, you and your friends got closer and closer to punching him in the face. None of them liked him, for good reason, but even their protection couldn’t fully stop him. Everything exploded in the spring, right before your junior prom.

You sat at your desk during your English lecture, desperately trying to pay attention to your teacher who was droning on and on about The Great Gatsby. You shifted your leg a bit, just enough to feel a piece of paper pressing into the underside of your thigh. You pulled it out, confused. 

It was a thick, decorated section of stationery with a few words scrawled on it in cursive. It read, “Meet me by the gym after school,” signed by someone who called themselves your secret admirer. You looked down at the prose. It didn’t look like Brady’s handwriting, something you were quite sure of. But who else would’ve written it? You tucked it in your pocket, not wanting to decide whether or not to go right then and there.

You did end up going, which was your biggest mistake. You sat on the edge of a planter near the entrance of the gym, picking at the seam of your shirt. It wasn’t long before everyone who had gym class last period filed out of the school, leaving you utterly alone. It also wasn’t long before Brady appeared, walking towards you like he was on a mission. 

You stood up, poised to leave if he did anything other than walk right on by. Unfortunately for you, he held up a hand as if to tell you to wait. “Hey,” he grinned, “you got my note?”

You paused. “Your note?” You didn’t think he even knew how to write in cursive, much less make it as neat as it was on the stationary. You wouldn’t be surprised if he paid one of the artsy girls to write it for him.

“Yeah.” He stared down at you. There was a gleam in his eye that you didn’t like. “I wanted to ask you to prom.”

Prom? He wanted to ask you to prom? You were baffled. There were a million better fitting people at his disposal, ones that didn’t hate him with a passion. He had made your life hell that year, and multiple years previous to that. You almost scoffed at his words.

“Well, I would rather you didn’t.” You said. You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist in a vice-like grip. His eerily green eyes burned holes into yours. 

“What, you’re just going to leave? After leading me on for so many years, playing hard to get?”

You were stunned. You weren’t aware you were playing anything. Everything he did just seemed mean, and you responded to it like any victim of bullying would. You just balked, uttering a quiet “huh?” when he wouldn’t let go. Try as you might, you couldn’t break his grip as he ranted about you being so obviously into him. He even tried to pull you closer, until two familiar hands grabbed his arm and shoved him back.

It was Rob, and he was furious. “What the fuck? Leave her alone,” he snapped, forcing himself into the gap between you and Brady. You rarely heard him curse, and you had never seen him as mad as that. Brady just rolled his eyes with a psychotic little laugh.

“Oh my god, did you think I was actually into your little girlfriend? Shove off, dude. I was joking. Who in their right mind would want that thing hanging off them in public?” he scoffed. You couldn’t tell if he was serious about anything right then. He was contradicting himself constantly. If the prom thing was a joke, was he just making fun of you again? Or if the prom thing was serious, was he deflecting? Your mind was reeling, and you just wanted to sit down and get your head straight. The place where Brady had grabbed you was pulsing, sure to form a bruise during the night.

Rob said something you didn’t remember before he put a protective hand on your shoulder and ushered you away. All you could hear was laughter, Brady’s and a couple other boys’. You didn’t even see the other boys arrive, and if they were there the whole time, you weren’t aware. The whole walk of shame just felt like a fever dream, with you fading in and out of reality until Rob sat you down on the edge of his mattress. You couldn’t even tell how you got there. Rob tilted your face towards him, concerned, and you realized you were crying.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His voice was soothing, like he was speaking to a scared puppy. “He was just being an asshole.” 

“Did you hear everything?” You sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care.

Rob shook his head. “When I came over, he was in the middle of some spiel. I was just on my way to lacrosse practice before I saw you.” Ah, yes, he was in lacrosse. And he was usually early. The things you remembered after dissociating continued to surprise you. He wiped the tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

He hated seeing you like that. Brady didn’t deserve to make you cry. No one did, not even yourself. He wanted to pull you under his covers and let you sigh into his shirt, like always. He wanted you to forget about everything and just hold on to him.

You wrung your hands in your lap, trying desperately to process everything. The situation was just so… bizarre. You didn’t know what to believe, but at the end of the day, you figured it didn’t matter. Brady will be Brady. Out of nowhere, you started to laugh. Rob’s eyes widened, but he cracked a smile too.

You devolved into cackles on his bed, with him doubled over next to you. Hysterics, some might say. But it was all you could think to do at the time, all your tired mind could handle at the moment. Of course, you talked about it after, but the laughter was the key to getting you through the situation. 

You had waited all your life for a big confession of love, and your “first one” went to shit immediately. Luckily, like always, Rob was there to pick up the pieces. 

Prom came and went without another word from Brady. Instead of going to the dance, however, you and your friends spent the night at a diner. The place had a playplace definitely designed and designated for little kids, but that didn’t stop you from climbing up the sides and playing a good old game of tag. You were winded by the end, a cramp crawling its way down your side, but it was more fun than sitting around a bowl of punch would be. The dances were never your thing, anyway. 

Both Margie and Aaron had a curfew as the night marched towards 10:00, but you decided to go back to Rob’s house for a movie or two. He could drive, and it was the most amazing excuse for him to ferry everyone everywhere. He never minded. So you got in his car, and he let you choose the music, and you talked the whole way home. 

As you finally arrived, your voices fell to hushed whispers. His family was more than likely asleep—save for his brother, who was spending his first year in college on campus. Rob locked the door and fumbled for the TV remote in the near-darkness as you thumbed through his DVD collection.

There wasn’t much selection. His family encouraged spending time with each other instead of spending time staring at a screen, so their DVDs consisted of old children’s films, a few action movies, and The Princess Bride. You had seen every one of them countless times, but the action movies more so. Frankly, you were tired of Men in Black and The Terminator, so you pulled out The Princess Bride. It was his sister’s favorite, but you liked it enough.

Rob raised his eyebrows at the selection but accepted it, popping the disc into the player and tugging a blanket over your body, already nice and comfortable on the couch. 

The first few times you watched movies together, Bobby would be silent. He stared at the screen with rapt attention, losing himself in the plot and acting. Over time, as you both learned to remember each twist and even a few distinct lines, you started talking while the movie played. It went from movie discussion to just anything, with the film serving as background noise to your conversation. A bit of you wondered why you didn’t just pause the video or talk somewhere else, but it was familiar, and somehow far better than conversing in silence. This time, you were discussing how far you could go in your friendship before Rob would stop metaphorically saying “as you wish”.

“I feel like you would say no if I, like, asked if I could pick your nose. Which I wouldn’t do, but you wouldn’t let me, right?”

He considered it for a moment, shrugging noncommittally. “If I had a reason to believe there was something in it, I might.” You scrunched your nose in response, shaking your head to the thought of it.

“Well, I’m not sticking my finger up there any time soon.” You pushed his face away from yours with your finger, pressing lightly into his forehead. He fell back, settling into the couch cushions.

“Thank god. I really think I’d let you do anything, though.”

You sat up, following him onto his side of the couch. There was a playful smile on your lips. “Anything?”

He nodded, face flushed in the dim lighting. He blushed so easily at the slightest provocation—it would be funny if you hadn’t already teased him for it hundreds of times. “That’s fair. I’d probably let you do anything too, but within reason.”

He tensed, eyes flicking across your face. He seemed like he was considering something. He had a concentrated look on his face, weighing the pros and cons. You had seen that face numerous times in the past, but right now, it confused you. Before he could think any better of it, and before he could get in his head about his newfound impulsivity, he opened his mouth. “Is kissing you within reason?”

You paused. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. It’s for the sake of the conversation. Right? It wasn’t like he thought about kissing you as much as you thought about kissing him. He was just so handsome, every day, all the time. It only got better with the years developing his features. It wasn’t like he had a major crush on you, too. “Sure.”

“Then…” His gaze dropped to your lips. He was hesitating, like you were going to shove him away and call him disgusting. But it was finally happening, and your heart beat faster and faster in your chest. 

“As you wish.” 

Your lips connected, and his hand cradled the back of your head. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

Warm, soft, a bit of teeth, but that didn’t matter. You felt like you were flying. Your dream finally came true—the one where you had his loving touch, where you melted into his arms like he would be able to hold you together. You prayed to anyone that would listen to never let you wake up.

When you pulled away, Rob’s face was red and dazed. He could hardly believe that he did that, and that you let him. He had been harboring so many feelings, ones that he himself had only realized in middle school. He tried everything to deny them, to push them to the side, because he didn’t think he could make you as happy as you deserved. But he couldn’t deny himself enough to not kiss you, not when you looked so perfect, lit up by the television screen. He was a strong person, but not that strong. 

You were utterly flustered. A short silence filled the air for a moment before you opened your mouth, closed it, and then opened it again to speak. “So…”

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He blurted. That was quick. “I know it’s… weird, but I really love you, and I have for a while.” He looked away shyly, blue eyes pointed towards anything but you.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you smiled. 

Your school year finished with an absolute flourish. You had a boyfriend for once. Margie was delighted when she found out. 

She squealed so loudly that you thought she would collapse the walls of her room, her hands immediately finding a place on your shoulders to shake you. “You and Rob, oh, I knew it! You’re perfect together.” She had matured so much after middle school, and the thought made your lips curl up into a smile.

Telling Aaron was easier. He looked at you with a knowing smile and then nodded, satisfied that you had both pulled your heads out of your asses long enough to realize you were in love with each other. As Margie was your victim while you were contesting your feelings, he was Rob’s. He knew that everything would work out better than any of you. 

Bobby didn’t quite know how to go about informing his family, so he decided on inviting you over for dinner and giving a whole, uninterrupted speech about how he wanted to let them know that you were more than just a friend now. His little sister, Jodie, just rolled her eyes and said, “We know.” He reddened under their laughter, but his hand was firm in holding yours under the table. 

Your mom was the person you were most worried about. She liked Rob, but you had never really been able to talk to her about those things. In the end, you casually dropped it during a conversation, she made some little comment about it, and you moved on. It wasn’t much of a big deal.

After the initial reactions, your relationship with him didn’t change much. You still did everything together, and you still spent hours talking with him, but there were a few sneaky kisses in between words and a few instances of hand-holding. It was heaven. 

Despite you having a similar dynamic, it felt more real, like you weren’t skirting around a touchy subject anymore. You were fully immersed in said subject, and Rob was the perfect accomplice. 

You knew him to be kind, gentle, and smart, but everything was amplified tenfold over the summer before your senior year. He held you with a special determination, never hiding how much he loved you through touch alone. He pulled you away from Brady whenever he approached, letting you hold his hand instead of looking at him. You saw a side of him that he kept carefully locked away.

 He never left behind his love of comics and flying, but he let you in on those secrets. He finally told you that he was applying to the Naval Academy (which you realized was the reason he was spending so much time at the gym, and why he was an Eagle Scout, and captain of the lacrosse team, etc. etc.), and even though he was worried that you would react badly, you tried to support him. It lifted a kind of weight off of his shoulders and let him be fully honest with you about everything. 

You had never been in a better place. He kissed you, brought you flowers, held your hand, and walked on the outside of the sidewalk. A gentleman, as he always had been. 

One of your favorite memories during that time was when he took you out to eat with his first ever paycheck. It wasn’t any place particularly fancy, as he worked a minimum wage job flipping burgers, but it was special all the same.

Rob was dressed in a polo, hair smoothed and combed (which was a whole lot better than his style in middle school, in your opinion), and glasses perched on his nose. He had taken to wearing them again as he hated getting dry eyes while working out. And, man, did he work out. He was getting a bit big for his clothing, his arms pushing against the fabric of his shirt, and chest noticeably straining against the cloth. You pulled your eyes away from his body, face a little warm when you noticed he noticed.

For once, you didn’t know what to talk about. It was your first real, proper date, and the pressure left your mouth dry. You drummed your fingers on the table before deciding to end the tension. “Do you remember when we first met?”

He blinked, but smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah. I still had that big cast, and you didn’t have any shoes on. I was jealous, you know,” he laughed lightly, “you got to feel the ground with both your feet.”

He reached out to take your hand, but stopped just short of your digits. You closed the gap and linked your fingers. “I was jealous that you had a cast with signatures on it. Apparently breaking a bone was cool to me, until I realized it meant you couldn’t go splash in the creek or roll down a hill.”

“That was awful. I think I cried once because I couldn’t chase a newt into the water.”

“And I had to sit by the edge of the stream and hold your glasses so you could wipe your eyes!” It was like yesterday for you, hand resting on his shoulder and mouth whispering soothing words until he could pick his glasses from your outstretched hand. He didn’t cry often, but you supposed that particular day took a toll on him in a way that you could not recall.

“You’ve always been great at comforting me.”

“I haven’t done it in a while, though. Hey, maybe you should get that boot back so I can see if I still have the magic touch,” you teased. He shook his head vigorously.

“Are you kidding me? I never want to see another medical boot again.” He paused. “Well, actually, it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there. Y’know, for moral support.”

You rolled your eyes, but your mouth betrayed you as it formed a smile. “For sure. I would dote on you—cucumbers on your eyes, a warm towel wrapping your hair, anything you want. Maybe I could even carry you down to the creek and find a few newts for you.”

“Carry me? You would probably break your back.” he scoffed, somewhat shyly. You didn’t even know a person could scoff shyly, but he was the king of consistency; he did everything with that little bashful tilt of his head.

“You never know. I’ve gotten pretty strong lately.”

“Show me sometime, then we can discuss the ‘carrying me down to the creek’ thing.”

“...give me a few more years and we’ll see.”

You talked about memories for hours upon end, until the restaurant workers had to gently push you out the door. The time you accidentally ate a fly while swinging, and he consoled you as you washed your mouth out a million times. When Margie accidentally left you two locked in her closet because she didn’t want her parents to make you leave. Even when Rob’s parents sat you down and said it would be okay with them if you two dated—which was met with outward disgust and internal hope. Throughout the reminiscence, his hand was held tightly in yours, and his eyes sometimes watered. It took everything in you to not sob at the idea of not being able to form these kinds of memories with him. It was kind of your last-ditch effort to truly be with him, in a way that no one else could be, before school started up again. You knew that soon, you would be stuck in class, and after that… after that, there were but a few brief weeks until he had to leave. You hadn’t been apart from him since you met, and each new day ticked down like a massive, ominous clock. You would just have to wait for him to return, as you waited for him to arrive in the first place. 

Just like you assumed it would, time passed quickly. Senior year was packed with homework, tests, college applications, more homework, more tests, watching lacrosse matches, cheering and whooping at football games, club meetings, swinging on the local park’s swings until you got sick with laughter, driving, and breaking curfew. It was fun. Everything could be fun if it was with the right people.

After things had died down, you discovered that your college and Naval Academy decisions happened to align somewhat perfectly with each other. Margie, Aaron, and you all got your letters a few days before Rob did, and you waited to open them together. Even holding the envelopes was stressful, like your entire future rode on a few printed words. They did, actually. That made it even scarier.

“Okay, we’ve all actually got to open them this time,” Margie groaned. She had counted down from three at least four times at this point. You and the boys were too scared to rip open the seals. It was amazing that she had held back from tearing them apart herself. “Three, two… one!”

The sound of tearing paper filled Rob’s bedroom, and you all eagerly held up the letters to the soft, warm glow of his overhead light. 

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

…pleased to offer you…

You did it. You all did it. A beat of shocked silence filled the air as you took glance after glance at your own and everyone else’s papers, but it was quickly broken by Margie’s scream. She threw her arms around you, tackling you to the floor, as she yelled, “Everyone got in! Everyone got in! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” You laughed in her grasp, everyone releasing a breath of relief that they didn’t know they were holding. Margie pulled Rob and Aaron into her bear hug as well, until everyone was in a big, happy pile. A twinge in your heart knew that these letters meant nothing would ever be the same again, but you pushed it aside for the joy of now.

Rob grinned, his glasses crooked on his face. “Good job, guys. Congrats. You all really deserve it.”

“You deserve it too, Bobby. Getting into the academy is hard, but I know you worked harder.” You gave him a peck on the cheek as Margie swooned and Aaron gagged. 

It took about two more seconds for the moment to devolve. Aaron folded his acceptance letter into a boat, which he then got stuck in Margie’s hair. Six pairs of hands worked to detangle it, but she didn’t make it any easier with the amount of giggles she was releasing. It was going to be okay, you thought. High school would end, and college would begin, but you could deal with everything coming your way. Your best friends would be with you, and your best-est friend would be an email away. An email and a million miles, but an email nonetheless. He had already created a folder just for you. 

Things changed, as they always have and always will. You would cry, and yes, you were stuck biding the time before your soon-to-be long distance boyfriend returned, but that change was beautiful.

After packing your meager belongings into a duffel bag and a half-wheeled suitcase, your mom drove you to your college dorm for move-in day. She was sad to see you go, but she joked that she could host the A.A. meetings in your room during your absence. She was okay to live on her own, she assured you. For the first time in a long time, you fully believed her.

She helped you set up, greeting Margie as well, then gave you a squeezing hug and walked back to her car. You likely wouldn’t be able to see her for a while, considering that you didn’t have your own car, but you had survived without her in the past, and you would again. 

Everything felt new and exciting, the world alight with opportunities. Every class prompted a discussion within yourself, and every party forced that discussion to present itself. You found that enjoying reality had a sort of grounding effect, even when you were clinging to a wall during a wildly chaotic frat house rager. Margie had joined the adjoining sorority, so those things were often places you could hang out. Man, did you hang out.

With (almost) complete and utter freedom, you could do just about anything. You worked at a Jersey Mike’s on campus, so you had access to free sandwiches and money; that meant the world was your oyster. You and your friends dabbled in school organizations, danced to loud music, stuck your heads out of sunroofs, and edged your way into the campus culture. The librarian ended up kicking you and your English 101 classmates out of the library after you violated the “quiet study” rule a few too many times. 

The school part was, admittedly, less fun, but it was a good experience nonetheless. You ended up switching majors twice during your first two years of college, as you were not exactly sure what would be useful or even what you wanted out of life, but you settled on something eventually. Aaron stuck straight on his path to pre-med with biology, while Margaret switched from political science to education. As the general education requirements were fulfilled and the more targeted classes began, your hangouts dulled down a little bit. Aaron was constantly stressed and no longer had time to roll down the sunroof, and even Margie had things to do. She was interning at a school district a few miles from campus. The new friends you made had less and less time to talk. It left you feeling a little disgruntled, but between harder work and dictating your newly boring life to Bob, there was no time to spare.

He started signing off his emails as Bob; whether it was to sound professional or because it was what everyone in the academy called him, it didn’t matter. You accepted it, like you did so many things about him.

One email chain in particular is now printed out on thick, bordered paper, stuck in one of your million half-filled-in photo albums. You thumb through them from time to time, just to look at the memories. 

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Hello, my love!

I haven’t had a chance to read your past emails, sorry! They keep me busy here (not as busy as plebe summer though haha) and downtime is a thing of the past. I will read them in a few days, if all things go well. I’ll tell you about my past few weeks in the meantime. Well, my past few weeks haven’t been all too interesting, but I figured I’d write it down anyway.

Mickey and I have been going through the motions. The classes can be tough, but nothing compares to Ms. Norton’s gov assignments. There’s workouts, class, and a little downtime before it all starts up again. Luckily, I’ve been getting more freedom lately. That’s the perk of being a responsible student ;)

Yesterday, I saw this guy flick peas at his friend (were they friends? Possibly, maybe, I’m not sure) and get absolutely torn apart by an instructor that was watching. I had to cover Mickey’s mouth before he laughed so he wouldn’t get reprimanded. That’s the kind of “exciting” thing that happens here, by the way; I’m sure the others get up to mischief, but with the hawks watching and the stakes so high? I’d rather imagine all the trouble you get into at college instead. It softens the blow.

That being said, enough about me. I want you to send me a million (ok, maybe not a million, I’d be fine with a couple thousand) emails about everything you do. I hope that wasn’t super creepy. I just miss you a lot.

I miss your humor, your laugh, and your smile. I miss feeling your thumb rubbing the back of my hand when you get bored. I miss smelling your shampoo, and I miss kissing you. I wish I had snuck some of your perfume in with me along with the photos, but that might be too sappy of me. I’d get made fun of relentlessly if this email were to fall into the wrong hands, but I don’t care anymore. Oh, I miss home, too, so visit my family when you have the chance. Tell me everything.

Anyways, I hope this email finds you well. I’ve got to go to bed now, but I’m sure I’ll be dreaming about you. Catch you at midnight!

Love,

Bob. 

P.S.: Mickey wanted to say hi, so I let him have the keyboard for a few seconds. Bob is such a sap about u, Hometown Girl, I send my deepest sympathies. Also HELLO! -That was Mickey. Expect a message from him every email from now on, because he won’t stop threatening to tape my socks to the ceiling??

To: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Hi Bob!! And hello Mickey. I hope he hasn’t been bringing me up too much.

Don’t worry about reading all my emails all the time—nothing too eventful ever happens anyway. And if it did, I’m sure Margie and Aaron would let you know as well. 

All the work you guys have to do sounds insane, like crazy insane. I don’t think I could ever work out and then go through a million tough classes. I die after 30 minutes at the gym. You’re lucky all the instructors like you, because I’m sure the others get a ton of flack. 

The most trouble I’ve gotten into this week was forgetting my homework and having to lie to my teacher. I told her I got frat flu and couldn’t get out of my dorm to go to the library… which was highly unethical, but you do what you have to do. As for the others, I haven’t seen Aaron in weeks because he’s prepping for his finals. We just finished midterms. He’s so studious it actually shocks me. Our favorite roommate is asleep at 7:49 PM, and I have to shield my laptop screen from shining too close to her. I’m sure she gets into trouble that I don’t even want to think about… she brought two separate guys to the room within four hours. TMI, but you’ve heard it all anyway.

Instead of a million emails, I hope a few long ones will suffice. I miss you too, so much. I hate having to wrap my arms around a pillow instead of you—it should be classified as a deficiency, honestly. A Bobby deficiency. I’m the sickest patient imaginable. 

I visited the fams on Sunday. Jodie is doing really well in high school! She’s in all the advanced art classes and is enjoying her schedule immensely. Chris was there too, with his fiance. Which reminds me: even though the wedding hasn’t even been planned yet and probably won’t be for a couple years, he wants you to be his best man!!! He asked me to warn you before the fancy wedding court invitations go out. Brotherly love and all that. You don’t have to say yes, he said, but he wants that unfortunate little buzz cut by his side on his big day.

Your parents are doing well, and so is my mom. We’re all getting together this weekend to prep a giant care package, which I hope will be well enjoyed by you and your friends. I need to finish up my stats homework (ugh), so I’ll cut this message short, but expect more after I close my textbook. I hope to see you in dream world too <3

Love,

Hometown Girl.

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Good morning, Randle,

I was wondering about placing a hold on the item we spoke about over the phone. I can call again on Saturday, sometime during the afternoon. Please reach out if it’s still an option.

Thanks,

Robert Floyd.

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Sorry about that last email, honey! That wasn’t meant for you. I’m just looking at a lock for my bag. Mickey likes to rifle through my things. I’ll email you more later.

Love,

Bob.

To: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

It’s alright, enjoy your lock lol.

Love,

Not Randle.

You didn’t have any reason to question his words at the time. Well, you never had a reason to question any of his words, because he could beat George Washington in a telling-the-truth competition. Now, you know that Bob’s a damn good liar—not that he would ever lie to hurt you. It’s just the nice secrets he keeps, like the one he kept the entire time he was training to be a naval aviator.

As his education progressed, though, his eyesight kept him from doing the one thing he truly wanted to do: be a pilot. He just missed the requirement, as he explained in a short, sad email after his eye test. It was crushing, to say the least, but Bob bounced back quickly. He always did. He was never one to sit and mope about a problem, no, he took the next best thing. He began training to be a weapon systems officer, and he was damn good at it.

His graduation, adorned with the markings of a star student, came with no surprise, and neither did his transition to the actual Navy. He did flight training, conditioning, and every other rigorous step to climb his way to the top; by the end, he was a new man. He graduated from Top Gun for god’s sake. Documenting his development were emails, short visits, letters, the whole shebang. 

The one thing that didn’t change was his love.

He was still goofy, nerdy, and kind. His skin may have been tougher, after years of being hardened by the world around him, but he took the time to care for the people in his life. He people-watched, just as he always did, and called you every sweet nickname that would get anyone lesser embarrassed. He still blushed like a madman, whether it was from pulling Gs or your tight hugs. And, which may just be the best thing he kept, he maintained his loyalty to the people in his past. He was a Montana kid, through and through.

You changed, he changed, the world changed. Everything was constantly moving. You maintained consistency in your waiting, though. That was the only thing that didn’t budge. You marked the dates that Bob would come back home in your calendar, counting down every second like you would miss him if you didn’t. One of those dates ended up being Margie’s wedding.

The year of weddings was upon you; Bob’s brother had just gotten married half a year before, and three of your other friends got married between then and Margaret’s wedding. Even Aaron was eyeing rings, constantly emailing you pictures from catalogs in an attempt to find the “perfect” band for his boyfriend. It came with being full-fledged adults, you assumed. Everyone was settled in their grown-up jobs or grad school, and therefore had more time to spend with their respective partners. Except for Bob, of course. He was sent everywhere under the sun. From Virginia to Hawaii, Hawaii to Texas, Texas to Nevada, and, most recently, Nevada to California. The last in-person interaction you had with him was four months ago when you flew to Lemoore to visit. There was no time for proposals, even if you had been with him long enough to be considered married in everyone else’s eyes. 

You were Margie’s maid of honor. You helped with planning, invitations, booking, buying, organizing, setting up, and pretty much all the details since she showed you the large, sparkling diamond on her ring finger. You even helped pick out her dress. It was a classic ball gown-style beauty, with delicate lace and heavy frills. It was exactly her. 

Bob was a groomsman, even though he and the groom weren’t particularly close. It was your closeness to both Margie and her fiance that brought him to the bachelor party in the first place. In the days before the wedding, you and Bob shared a room close to the wedding venue.

Being with him again made you the happiest you had been in a long time. You felt complete, like when he was gone, your heart just ached and ached until he could come plug up the holes again. Living in that small motel room was a breath of fresh air, and sharing a bed with him in complete privacy was amazing in more ways than one.

It was strange, in a way, like you didn’t really know him anymore. He had friends you had never met and a job you knew nothing about in a place you had only visited once, but he was intricately tied to your hometown through a series of souls and bonds. He was balancing between two worlds, and a part of you wondered where he would fall if the beam were to become unsteady. And another part of you hoped he would take you with him when the time came.

During the ceremony the next day, you thought that you wanted to be the one walking down the aisle next. 

The wedding went well, as most weddings did. There were tears from you, tears from the audience, tears from everyone except for the children Margie taught, as they were too young to really understand the beauty of two people devoting their lives to each other. The cake was cut, frosting smeared on the newlyweds’ cheeks, the dances flowed flawlessly, the pictures turned out perfect, and even Margie’s mother-in-law was happy. It was honestly the most beautiful wedding you had witnessed in your life.

When the time came for the bouquet toss, you were so far back in the crowd that it didn’t even have a chance of landing in your outstretched hands. You stood there for moral support, really, as the girls around you pushed their way to the front. There was a countdown, a little shove from the person next to you, and a bouquet of poppies tossed high into the air. It sailed in an arc, red and orange streaking through the air. Despite everything, despite the odds being stacked against you, it was heading right in your direction.

You reached one arm out, squished between bodies, and caught it.

The uproar of the people around you filled your ears as you pulled the flowers to your chest. The crowd parted, and Margie came barrelling towards you, wrapping you in her lacy arms. “Yes! I just knew you would catch it, I always do. You’ve got to help me plan the wedding when it happens, because I know it will, and you’re going to need the perfect dress and the perfect venue and the prettiest invitations and…”

She carried on for a while, and you smiled into the soft, decorative leaves. 

You saved the flower petals, pressed in a big dictionary under your desk. You saved every flower you had ever been given. Parts of them, at least. Your corsage from senior prom, the bouquets Bob had shipped to your door, and the marigolds your mother grew in her new garden are spread out across your bedroom. Most of your memories are tucked away in secret places, only noticeable if you know where to look.

After the wedding, you returned to your little apartment, smack in the middle of the busiest part of your town. The cars speeding by were significantly worse than Bob’s light snoring. It was the first time you had lived on your own, though, which was supposed to be important. You were free.

You could eat ice cream for breakfast, or in the late hours of the night, and you could sing loudly in the shower. You could even buy most of the clothes you saw in stores on your brand new salary and organized savings. However, you found that you didn’t necessarily want to do all that. You just wanted every day to be over already. Work was too much, waking up to an upset stomach was too much, checking your email every thirty minutes and seeing nothing was too much, and those goddamn people in the room above yours were too much, constantly blasting music and stomping around. Like always, you found yourself waiting for things to change again. You imagined you were anywhere else with anyone else, finding a sick sense of comfort in the fantasies. You thought you put those little phases behind you, but being an adult alone was so frustrating that you found yourself going back to old patterns.

Margie was caught up in the married life, Aaron was constantly working, and your frequently long-distance boyfriend was states away. The only comfort you got was periodic visits to your old neighborhood, checking up on your mom and Bob’s family. 

You stood in the middle of Georgia Floyd’s flower bed, tugging at a weed, hands adorned with thick, weathered gloves. The thing just wasn’t coming out. The little thorns were sticking to your sleeves, and you were drenched with sweat. It was the beginning of fall, and the leaves were turning all shades of fiery reds and somber oranges, but the sun was still high in the sky. The thriving asters and dahlias next to you taunted you with their beauty, bending in the slight breeze. Georgia stood in the shade of her doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding a glass of lemonade. “Sweetheart, you’ve been workin’ so hard here. Take a drink, go home, be merry. I’ll get B… I’ll get someone else to pick up where you left off, ‘kay?”

You sighed, wiping the perspiration away from your brow with your forearm. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” She handed you the glass and shooed you away from her flowers, making sure to take the gardening gloves you had peeled off and tucked under your arm. 

You hadn’t expected to be weeding today, but with Jodie at a friend’s house, Chris a state away on a work trip, and Bob’s father, Harold, off somewhere, she needed a helping hand. She had gotten a bit weaker over the years, no longer able to bend as well as she needed to in order to clear away the low-growing weeds, and you loved her more than enough to help out. You were her second daughter, she always said. A part of the family, no matter what. You walked across the street to your mom’s place and opened the door with your key. 

She had to go grocery shopping a while earlier, leaving you alone in the house. Given that the grocery shop was less than five minutes away by car, she should’ve been back by then. You didn’t pay it much mind, though. You just stepped into your bathroom, hung up your clothes, and took a well-deserved shower. 

After a good forty-five minutes of steam, hair dryers, and other pampering, you were ready to do absolutely nothing. The chair on your small front porch was all set up, and you held a book in your hands, ready to sit and see the yellow and orange sky cascade over the pages. When you stepped through your doorway, however, someone was waiting for you.

Bob. His hair had changed since you last saw him. It was longer but still military-issued, combed neatly, not a lock out of place. He was dressed well, too, with slacks and a slightly open button-up. You were suddenly glad that you had put on the prettiest dress in your arsenal—one he knew very well. He opened his mouth and then shut it with a look of determination.

“Bobby? What are you doing here?” you asked. He wasn’t expected back for months yet, and you certainly didn’t think he had time to visit. You were happy to see him, of course. Hell, you were overjoyed to be in his presence. But what was he doing?

He stepped forward, shined shoes crunching on a bit of gravel, and you met him in the middle. As he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight to his chest, you breathed him in. He was really here, back home, after all that time. You finally pulled away after what seemed like eons and a millisecond all at once, and he clasped your hands in his, your book forgotten on the ground. His eyes were stormy, brimming with what looked like an onslaught of tears. You rubbed your thumbs up and down his hands worriedly. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice came out as a tremble, slightly terrified at the prospect of something having gone wrong. Did someone die? Did he almost die? It didn’t help that he cleared his throat like he was steeling his nerves.

He put one of your hands on his chest, over his fluttering heart, and pressed a gentle kiss to the other. “There’s something I need to ask you.” You nodded, too concerned to speak. “I’ll… I’ll start with this. I love you so much it hurts me. When I first met you, years ago, I knew that I wanted to be around you forever. Your kindness, curiosity, your heart, everything just pulled me in and never let me go—not that I ever wanted to go, no, I knew you were too special to leave behind. I had to put so much in the past, but not you. Never you. I grew with you, and laughed with you, and loved you in a million ways. Throughout all that time, you waited and gave me your utmost support when my dreams took me a thousand miles away. Now, I’m still living a thousand miles away, but I don’t want you to wait here anymore. I want you to come with me and stay.” He took a breath, and his heart hammered under your fingertips. “What I’m really trying to get at is that I want to have a future with you. I want to be your husband.”

The world stopped in that moment. Did you hear him correctly? His eyes searched for a response on your face as he slid a black, velvety case out of his back pocket. He slowly lowered to one knee, keeping eye contact, and opening the box to show you the shiny contents.

“Sweetheart, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You brought your hands up to your mouth. After all this time, the moment you dreamed of as a kid was finally happening. You nodded once, dropping down on your knees and nodding a million more times. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you breathed, voice loud and quiet at the same time. Your arms found their place around him, like they had many times before, but something was different. New, in a good way. Like you were safe, completely safe.

Like while his ring was on your finger, you would never have to wait to be loved again.

You smile at the printed digital photos spread out on your bed. Bobby hugging you in 5th grade, the both of you in matching witch and black cat costumes, pumpkin buckets dangling from your fists. A snapshot of “the shaving incident”, in which you had come out with cut up legs and Robert with a cut up face. There was even a silly photo of him carrying you bridal style on your prom night, with your arm thrown over your face like a swooning princess. Your favorites, though, are the proposal photos.

Your mom hid around the corner to take pictures of your silhouettes in the sunset, while Bob’s mom pulled out her camera from across the street. They had coordinated everything perfectly, down to the fake shopping trip and weeding break. It was no coincidence that your mother washed the load of laundry that contained your favorite dress first. The meticulous planning from the people who know your routines best still makes your head spin when you think about it. They all knew about the proposal for at least a week before it happened, and they made sure it was absolutely perfect, down to the manicured background and time of day. Bob even managed to get away from work for a couple days to propose.

The ring is beautiful too. It’s the perfect mix between flashy and subtle, the main stone is cut exactly how you like it, and the band is the right amount of tight. When you asked your fiance about how he got it so exact to everything you had dreamed of, he said, “research”. You later found out from his mom that he had bought the ring while he was still at the Naval Academy from the best jeweler he could find: Randle Montgomery. Knowing that he was planning on proposing all those years ago makes it a different kind of special.

Your closet is open, the boxes and boxes of memories all pulled out and scattered around your room. The dictionary under your desk has been opened, and the flower petals and other flower material placed carefully into a container. A few minutes earlier, you even stumbled upon a written agreement you and Bob signed in middle school, agreeing to marry each other if you weren’t taken by 30. The wooden rose he gave you, also in middle school, was halfway sticking out of a cardboard holder, leaning on a series of first day of school photos Georgia took. You’ve taken to calling her Mom now, at her request.

All of your photo albums are open, with most of the pictures taken out. You’re trying to compile everything, every memory, into a new, large album. The new album is brown leather, stamped and embroidered with little inside jokes and important moments. Inside, you’ve documented every single stage in your life with Bob.

Some of the pictures even feature Margie, her husband, Aaron, Jodie, Chris, Georgia, Harold, your mom, Mickey, and everyone you’ve met along the way. Seeing the compilation of every person, every moment, that made you who you are brings tears to your eyes. 

You spend the next two hours tucking pictures, flower petals, and anything flat enough to fit into the album. By the time you’re done, your hands are coated in a fine layer of dust, and your front door is opening. 

“Honey, I’m home!” the intruder calls, and you hear the telltale jingling of him placing his keys on the bookshelf in your living room. You stand up, wipe your hands on your pants, and walk out of your shared bedroom.

Bob unzips his flight suit to the middle, letting it hang around his waist for the time being. His boots are neatly placed with the rest of his shoes; he’s tidy even when he’s tired, which is a phenomenon you don’t understand whatsoever. His hair is messy, his glasses are crooked, and he’s giving you a tired little smile. It was surely a long day for him. You open your arms, and he slouches into you like he was meant to be there.

“I was just about to get dinner started. Go take a nap, and it’ll be done by the time you wake up,” you murmur, kissing through his undershirt. He shakes his head softly. His hands hold steady on your waist, his pulse humming through the contact. 

“I’ll help. What were you thinking for tonight?”

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the pantry on the way. Pasta sauce clinks on the tile counter as you say, “Pasta. It’s quick enough. I’ll put mushrooms in the sauce, too, as a treat. You deserve it after the day I’m sure you’ve had.”

“You read my mind, baby,” he sighs, resting his head on you. “We had some rough ejections, but nothing too scary. And there’s talk of calling a few people to San Diego for a Top Gun mission, so every little mistake pulls people further away from that opportunity.”

He steps away from you for a moment. The absence of warmth sends a chill down your spine, but after he opens the box of spaghetti and turns up the heat on the pot of water you’ve placed on top of the stove, he stands behind you again. You look up from your place chopping vegetables. “Do you want to go back to San Diego? I feel like we just got settled in Lemoore.”

“Well, I’d like to marry you before moving, but I’d be honored to be a part of Top Gun again. Those missions are… dangerous, though, to say the least, so I want to have a wedding ring with my dog tags.”

You tap on his chest lightly, eyebrows furrowed. “If you do get chosen, you’d better be careful. I’m not prepared to be a widow.”

He smiles, a little sadly and a little reassuringly. “I’ll do my best.” 

When you hear the pot of water boiling, Bob drops the pasta in, and you turn your attention to the sauce simmering in your saucepan. You add mushrooms, onion, some ground beef, parmesan, and a lot of love. Before long, both parts are done, and you put a heaping portion on your fiance’s plate.

Your dining room furniture is basic, just a wooden table and two chairs. Neither of you have been able to decorate the house to your standards, considering you’re both working and you just moved in a month ago. It’s nice, though. Not permanent by any means, but nice. 

Not having any big decorations make it easier to move, you figure. By now, you know very well that living with a Naval aviator means moving from place to place until he gets a permanent station. Even then, there’s a chance they could change their minds and slap him onto the opposite side of the country. You’re just hoping that you can get married by a beach before that happens.

Speaking of the wedding, you need to do some serious planning. You swallow your bite of pasta. “I finished the photo album today.”

“Really? That’s great!” Bob beams. “I’m going to call the venue after work tomorrow to see if the date we picked out is possible. If it is, I think we can put the album by the entrance so people can look through it.”

“That sounds really good. Margie’s coming down next week to help me pick out decorations and stuff, so we need to decide on a color palette.”

“Hm… what do you think about our favorite colors? So we can represent both of us together.”

All the wedding talk makes you both excited and tired. You want to marry the love of your life and have a great time doing it, so every detail needs to be looked over again and again to ensure it goes according to plan. Bob’s a great help, despite him having so little time during the day. Living with him, finally, is like a dream come true. 

Everything is like a dream come true now. When you were little, before the Floyds appeared in your life like a fairy god-family, you prayed for something like this to happen. You begged and pleaded for your mom to get better, for you to have friends, for you to fall in love. Every part of that, miraculously, happened. Your life changed from miserable to joyous in a matter of days.

You’re going to marry the boy next door, and you’re going to be happy doing it. As you settle into bed, with his arm around you and a ring carefully placed on your bedside table, you think that all you’ve ever waited for has finally come to lull you to sleep.

Taglist: @withahappyrefrain @seitmai @winelover27 @shinzowosasageyoooo

[intricatechaosofyou]

Blind Date Gone…Wrong?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Summary: Maybe getting stood up isn’t the worst thing ever

Warnings: drinking, alcohol, language

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

You glanced down at your watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. It was 7:45, almost a full hour after you were supposed to meet your date. Convinced you needed a boyfriend, or at the very least a hookup, your best friend insisted on setting you up with one of her friends at the office. Having nothing better to do, you agreed.

Your blind date, Thomas, and you had talked, agreeing to meet up at an Italian restaurant on the beach. Putting on one of your favorite dresses that did wonders for your ass and donning a little extra makeup than usual, you had arrived at the restaurant five minutes past seven, fully expecting Thomas to be there. When you discovered he wasn’t, you shrugged it off and ordered yourself a drink while you waited.

You waited for ten minutes before texting him. You never got a response but you decided to wait a little bit longer.

Ten minutes turned into thirty.

And thirty minutes had turned into forty.

The waiter had been asking you if you were ready to order for the past twenty minutes, and yet you still insisted you needed more time, praying that Thomas would walk through the door.

You were starting to get blatant looks of pity from the patrons seated around you.

He wasn’t coming.

You were flagging down the waiter, ready to pay so you could escape the restaurant with some of your pride still intact when a man slid into the seat across from you.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Darlin’. Maverick kept me late and then traffic was just awful,” he announced loudly before leaning across the table and planting a kiss on your cheek. His voice dropped in volume so only you could hear him when he whispered, “I’m Bob. Just go with it.”

You nodded slightly and tried your best to smile at the man, Bob apparently, once he pulled away from you. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I was more worried than anything.”

The waiter smiled at the two of you. Whether he was glad your date had finally showed up or glad you were finally going to order, you couldn’t tell.

Once the two of you ordered and the waiter was out of earshot, you turned back to the man seated across from you. “Thank you so much.”

He blushed and nervously rubbed the nape of his neck. “It’s no problem, really.”

“I appreciate it though,” you admitted. “Got stood up and I was getting all those looks of pity.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

You smiled. “So, your name’s Bob?”

He nodded. “Lt. Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob.”

“Lt. Robert Floyd?” You repeated. “You Navy?”

“Yes, ma’am. How’d you know?”

“We are in Fightertown, USA,” you mused with a grin.

“I guess you’re right,” Bob chuckled.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n),” you introduced yourself, sticking your hand out for him to shake.

Bob smiled and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss on the back of it. “Nice to meet you, (y/n).”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you replied, blush creeping up your face at his actions. “So is this your typical Friday night? Going around saving girls who got stood up?”

“N- no, this is the first time I’ve done this. And whoever stood you up is an idiot,” Bob replied.

You smiled at the man, head tilting slightly. The way he had said it was so genuine, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the comment.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“Anytime, Darlin’.”

———————

“No way!” You giggled. “I don’t believe it!

Bob shrugged, bashful smile on his face. “Yup. Punched him right in the face.”

“What happened after that?” You questioned, trying to contain your laughter so you could hear more of the story.

“Suspended for two weeks.”

“And the other kid?”

“Nothing.”

You gasped, utterly appalled. “But he was the one being a bully! You were just standing up for your friend!”

“School didn’t see it that way.”

“Well, I do. Looks like you’ve always been a hero, Bob.”

A blush spread across his cheeks. “Anyone would have done it.”

“I don’t think so. You don’t give yourself enough credit, honey.”

The blush on his cheeks deepened as the pet name rolled off your tongue. “It really wasn’t a big deal.”

“If you say so,” you said with a laugh, resting your head on your hand as you gazed at the man.

The two of you had been talking for hours, meals long gone and a crème brûlée now being shared between the two of you. The conversation flowed naturally despite never having met before. You had talked about almost everything, from why you were in Miramar, childhood memories, to your favorite ice cream flavors.

“So, what’s it like being in the Navy?” You asked, pointing your spoon at him.

“It’s fun. I’m a Weapons System Officer which means I’m in charge of all the weapons in the back of the plane. Phoenix is my pilot.”

“Phoenix?” You question, tilting your head.

“That’s her call sign. Everyone has one,” Bob explained. “There’s Phoenix, Rooster, Hangman, Payback.”

“So what’s yours?”

“Uhh…Bob,” he admitted bashfully, eyes not meeting yours.

You grinned and let out a small giggle. “I like it. I think it suits you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, short and sweet.”

“Calling me short, Darlin’?” Bob joked.

“Definitely,” you replied with a wink.

———————

When the cheque came, Bob swiped it up before you could even touch it.

“To repay you for letting me crash your date,” he explained.

“‘Crash my date?’” You repeated. “Bob, you saved it.”

“Then to repay you for your company.”

You pouted and leaned back in your chair. “Fine. But you let me pay next time.”

“‘Next time?’”

Your cheeks heated up as you realized your mistake. “Not that there has to be a next time. I just had a lot of fun and thought maybe we could do this again. But that was a very bold assumption,” you rambled.

“Actually, I was gonna ask if I could see you again?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I had a really good time tonight,” Bob admitted, awkwardly shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Smiling, you reached across the table to grab his hand. “I’d like that.”

“Next Friday?” Bob suggested.

“It’s a date.”

———————

The two of you walked outside the restaurant hand in hand, giggling like a couple of high schoolers.

“Well, my car’s this way,” you mumbled, pointing behind you.

“Mine’s the other way,” Bob replied, frown making its way onto his face.

“Then I guess this is where we part,” you sighed dramatically. “But I’ll see you next Friday?”

Bob nodded. “Six o’clock.”

You smiled. “Goodnight, Bob.”

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

With a sudden burst of confidence you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips to his, relishing in the small gasp that left him. His hands came to rest on your hips as your mouths slotted together almost perfectly.

It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was long enough to leave Bob a mess when you pulled back. His glasses were knocked askew on the bridge of his nose, his cheeks were flushed, and a bit of your lipstick was now staining the side of his mouth.

You giggled at his appearance and patted his bicep. “You good there, Robby?”

“Better than that,” he whispered.

“I should get going.”

He nodded and pecked your lips once more before letting you go.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but spare one more glance at the man. He was walking in the opposite direction, fist pumping as he went.

You smiled to yourself. Maybe this blind date wasn’t a total disaster after all.

TAGLIST

@pono-pura-vida

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Timeline: Bullying Allegations, Rumors, Investigations, and Leaks

Unless cited, all links from the Daily Mail. Apologies, but all links are "active" webpages. There's just too many. I specifically chose the DM because they always TL;DR their articles, which I'm including here so y'all don't have to go click these links.

This is going to be a little bit of a differently-formatted timeline.

These items in bold red are critical rota stories that sort of blew things open, if you will. These ones will have excerpts.

These items in bold purple are Tumblr gossip.

Let's jump in! One quick disclaimer first: This isn't an exhaustive list. this is only what I've been able to dig up today.

10/28/2018: The real Charles revealed: William’s wild mood swings, Harry’s pre-wedding meltdown and how the Prince of Wales finally earned his boys’ respect, as revealed by his biographer ROBERT JOBSON

The weeks leading up to the wedding had been far more tense for both Harry and Meghan than most people realised. In fact, they’d both felt so stressed that they’d booked a series of appointments with Ross Barr, known as ‘the acupuncturist to the stars’. Whether these treatments had much impact on Harry is debatable. In the build-up to the wedding, says an inside source, he was ‘petulant and short-tempered’ with members of staff. Raising his voice on occasion, Harry would insist: ‘What Meghan wants, she gets.’

11/8/2018: ‘Meghan cannot have whatever she wants’: The Queen ‘had words’ with Harry over his ‘difficult’ bride-to-be’s choice of wedding tiara, royal insider claims

Meghan Markle reportedly wanted a tiara with emeralds for her wedding day 

But stones may have been Russian so she had to choose another, it was claimed

Prince Harry allegedly 'hit the roof' when told the headpiece was off-limits

Queen 'had words' with Prince Harry about Meghan, a royal insider claims

Source said Her Majesty said: 'She gets what tiara she's given by me' 

11/9/2018: MAJ RAPPED MEG The Queen warned Prince Harry over Meghan Markle’s ‘difficult’ behavior after row over bride’s tiara for royal wedding by Dan Wootton of The Sun

11/10/2018: CDAN Blind. This came out a couple of weeks after tumblr (the old TCD blog) got a massive dose of Aussie tea. Scroll down to August 2019 for those stories.

Apparently the diva behavior on a recent trip was nothing compared to the verbally abusive thrashing the employee took on that trip when things were not perfect. The employee threatened to sue because of how bad the abuse was which would have become public. The employee instead was given a check and an apology by the in-laws of the former actress turned abuser.

11/15/2018: Duke and Duchess of Cambridge join youngsters on The One Show sofa to speak about new anti-bullying app (with Kate in another recycled dress by Emilia Wickstead). This event was the day after Charles’s 70th birthday bash at BP, to which Meghan wore the blood earrings again and the gossip leaked that the Sussexes left early.

11/15/2018: Prince William accuses Facebook of putting ‘profits before values’ as he slams social media giants for being ‘on the back foot’ in fight against fake news, privacy and cyber bullying

11/17/2018: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle change plans to move into Kensington Palace apartment as resident Royal ‘doesn’t want to leave’ by The Sun. This was the first time that rumors of a rift between the Cambridges and the Sussexes over behavior/attitude were published by the printed press.

Kensington Palace isn’t short of luxury accommodation, with Prince William and Kate Middleton living in a lavish 20-room apartment in the grounds. And it is also the residence of The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, The Duke and Duchess of Kent and Prince and Princess Michael of Kent. The Queen’s cousin, The Duke of Gloucester, 74, and his wife Birgitte, 72, live next door to The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge in their grand 21-room apartment. Prince Harry is said to have been eyeing up the property as the perfect place to raise a family. But a source claims Danish-born Brigitte is refusing to move. The Mail quoted a friend of Duchess of Gloucester saying: “Birgitte doesn’t want to leave. “And why should she? She and her husband are still full-time working members of The Firm and they were given their apartment by Her Majesty.”

Many blogs read the bolded section above as Harry and Meghan were pushing the Gloucesters hard to move out of KP #1. Not necessarily bullying them, but...not being nice about it either.

11/25/2018: MEGGING A MOVE Prince Harry told staff ‘What Meghan wants, Meghan gets’ as it’s claimed couple are moving away from Wills and Kate to flee ‘goldfish bowl’ Royal life by The Sun

11/26/2018: Is Meghan Markle and Kate Middleton’s rift causing tension between Harry and William and behind Windsor move?

11/28/2018: Meghan Markle ‘left Kate Middleton in tears’ over her strict demands for Princess Charlotte’s bridesmaid’s dress by Jack Royston, The Sun.

This is one of the earliest "admissions" that Meghan sends the staff emails out of business hours.

Rumours of a rift between the duchesses swirled after royal sources revealed emotional Kate, 36, ended up weeping. An insider claimed the incident followed a “stressful” dress fitting — just weeks before Meghan, 37, married Prince Harry. Royal aides did not deny the incident had taken place, amid claims that the duchesses are “very ­different people”. Princess Charlotte, three, had been trying on her outfit just weeks before Meghan’s wedding to Prince Harry. Meghan, 37, is understood to have insisted on “the very best” for her big day — but the fitting did not go according to her demands. Royal sources said the pressure of the “stressful” fitting became too much for her now sister-in-law, and that Duchess of Cambridge Kate was left shaken and in tears. An insider told the Daily Telegraph: “Kate had only just given birth to her third child, Prince Louis, and was feeling quite ­emotional.” The reported incident sparked rumours of a rift between Kate and the Duchess of Sussex. The duchesses are understood to have put the incident behind them.

and

Concerns have surfaced that American actress Meghan has at times struggled to fit into royal circles. Sources claimed she regularly “bombarded” staff with early morning calls and emails.

12/11/2018: How royal staff are calling Meghan Duchess Difficult as 2nd aide exits by The Daily Express. This is the first recording of "Duchess Difficult" in the printed press and the first hints that Harry may have confronted William about Meghan's red carpet welcome into the BRF.

The Duchess let slip recently that she's not sleeping well and has resorted to 4.30am yoga sessions to help her relax. However, her early starts, also said to involve firing off emails, aren't to everyone's taste and Meghan will soon have to find an aide more in tune with her lifestyle.

and

Kate was reported to have become upset by the manner in which Meghan speaks to staff and although this has been denied by Kensington Palace it has not stopped the chatter that all is not harmonious.

and

According to one insider, Harry, who is notoriously protective when it comes to his new wife and is desperate for her to enjoy her official duties, is said to be unimpressed with the welcome William has given Meghan. He feels his older brother could have done more, including ensuring that Kate took the American under her wing. Harry, 34, is said to be mindful of how isolated and miserable his mother, Diana, became. In a TV appearance in February, involving the so-called Fab Four of William, Harry, Kate and Meghan, there was an awkward moment when the group was asked about whether they had disagreements. “Oh yes," said William, while Harry tried to make light of the issue by joking that they came "thick and fast". But the insider says: "Harry won't take any criticism of Meghan and he is so sensitive that he often sees criticism or negativity when there isn't any."

12/18/2018: Meghan’s supposedly banned Harry from a traditional shoot, staff are leaving, and it’s claimed courtiers were aghast when this starry picture was (briefly) online. Now, RICHARD KAY asks…Duchess Difficult - or just defiantly different?

Meghan's appearances seem more flashy than other members of Royal Family 

Two days after Fashion Awards show, Duchess of Cornwall posed with donkey

Photo from night was posted on Fashion Council's Instagram but quickly deleted

The Queen is said to be determined to 'not allow Meghan to feel unwelcome' 

2/6/2019: Meghan Markle’s Best Friends Break Their Silence: ‘We Want to Speak the Truth’ (People 5 Friends article)

2/6/2019: ‘Please stop victimizing me, Dad’: Meghan sent her estranged father a letter after her wedding begging him to stop attacking her in the media - and he responded by asking for a photo shoot

Meghan wrote the letter to her dad, Thomas Markle, shortly after her wedding to Prince Harry 

'I have one father. Please stop victimizing me through the media,' she wrote

Friends say Thomas Markle responded by asking Meghan for a photo shoot

'I think she'll always feel genuinely devastated by what he has done,' friends said

Those friends who spoke out said they are concerned about how the 'emotional trauma' of dealing with her father might be affecting Meghan's unborn baby

The five anonymous friends  also rejected rumors she was feuding with her sister-in-law Kate Middleton

'There is nothing behind the feud with Kate,' they said. 'It's completely untrue'

2/6/2019: Samantha Markle calls out sister Meghan for ‘bulsshit’ story in which ‘imaginary’ pals praised the pregnant princess saying she is nothing but a ‘wealthy narcissist’ with ‘lie-abetes’

2/7/2019: ‘Harry will be the BEST dad!’ Meghan praises her husband - amid claims she is suffering ‘emotional trauma’ over feud with her own father - as royal couple dazzle at the Endeavour Fund Awards in London. (This is Meghan's cater waiter outfit.)

4/12/2019: The Meghan Markle ‘Duchess Difficult’ Rumors Just Won’t Stop - and This One is Bizarre by Glamour Magazine. I'm including this one because it cites a few Sun articles that are no longer accessible.

According to The Sun, staff members at Frogmore Cottage, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's new home, have been "banned" from using the parking lot closest to the residence and instead must use the one a mile away. The sources who spoke to The Sun seem to confirm a change in parking permits is happening, but here's the kicker: It was reportedly the superintendent of the castle's decision, not Markle's. And yet all the tabloids reporting this story are making it seem as though Markle woke up and randomly decreed, "You know what would be fun? Forcing all the staff members to walk a mile to work each day." The headline in one article starts with "Not in Meg Back Yard," which is apparently the acronym insiders are using to describe this change. That makes it sound like Markle is the one behind the choice.

8/18/2019: Massive Aussie tea and bullying/rude behavior compilation thread posted on Tumblr by The Charlatan Duchess. Original Aussie tea was first published in October 2018 but I can’t find any of the original posts to verify a specific date - all those blogs seem to have been deactivated. Includes gossip/tea about:

Admiralty House/Australia tour

Rumors from Toronto days

Behavior towards customer service staff/industry

“Use and abuse” treatment of entertainment industry staffers

Morocco tour

Birmingham UK visit

Cliveden House/Royal Wedding Eve

Wimbledon 2019 clearout

Vogue and Met Gala

Michelle Obama’s book-reading

South Africa

Attitude towards nannies

10/2/2019: Instagram will roll out its anti-bullying ‘Restrict’ tool to all users so they can avoid nasty commenters without being caught reporting or blocking people

10/28/2019: Author Matt Haig whose poem Meghan Markle included in her Vogue issue defends Duchess against ‘bullies’ - saying ‘you can be famous and struggle’

6/14/2020: Meghan Markle’s painful dilemma: They’re as close as sisters but will she now ditch her best friend Jessica Mulroney after ‘racist bully shame’?

3/2/2021: Royal aides reveal bullying claim before Meghan’s Oprah interview by Valentine Low for The Times - Archived link

(go ahead and give the whole thing a read)

3/2/2021: Buckingham Palace insists it DIDN’T smear Meghan after she accused aides of a ‘calculated campaign’ against her - after ex-staff claim she ‘bullied two PAs’ and ‘drove them out’ of Kensington Palace, four days before explosive Oprah interview will be aired

The Times reported a spokesman for the Sussexes vehemently denying the claims, saying they were 'the victims of a calculated smear campaign based on misleading and harmful misinformation'

A bullying complaint was lodged against the Duchess of Sussex by a senior member of Kensington Palace staff before she and Prince Harry quit as working royals

The Times reported it was made in October 2018 by Jason Knauf, who worked as communications secretary to Harry and Meghan

He is said to have claimed the duchess 'drove two personal assistants out of the household and was undermining the confidence of a third staff member' 

Sensationally, the couple's lawyers told the newspaper it was 'being used by Buckingham Palace to peddle a wholly false narrative' before this weekend's interview with Oprah Winfrey 

3/2/2021: Meghan Markle ‘Saddened’ by ‘Attack on Her Character’ amid Bullying Allegations from Palace Staffers by People Magazine

"The Duchess is saddened by this latest attack on her character, particularly as someone who has been the target of bullying herself and is deeply committed to supporting those who have experienced pain and trauma," a spokesperson for the Duke and Duchess of Sussex said in a statement obtained by PEOPLE. "She is determined to continue her work building compassion around the world and will keep striving to set an example for doing what is right and doing what is good."

3/3/2021: Buckingham Palaces releases a statement concerning the bullying allegations reported by The Times

3/3/2021: Royals’ Meghan ‘bully’ crisis: As Buckingham Palace launches an unprecedented investigation into sensational bullying claims against Meghan, make no mistake this is a crisis that echoes the Abdication, writes Richard Kay

Meghan Markle is the subject of bullying complaints from her former royal aides in a leaked email 

Jason Knauf alleged she forced two assistants out of the household amid claims of 'emotional cruelty' 

Buckingham Palace is launching an unprecedented investigation into the allegations, deepening the crisis

3/3/2021: Meghan makes jaw-dropping claim the Royal Family has ‘perpetuated falsehoods’ about her and Harry in Oprah interview teaser released just hours after Palace launched sensational probe into allegations she bullied staff

CBS has released a second clip previewing Sunday night's Oprah Winfrey interview with Meghan and Harry

In the clip, the Duchess of Sussex is seen sitting alone talking to the talk show host

She is asked by Winfrey whether she had worried about the consequences of speaking out

Markle replies that she felt she had no choice, because the Royal Family were 'perpetuating falsehoods'

She said that, despite the risk of 'losing things', she felt that 'there is a lot that has been lost already'

The clip, recorded several weeks ago, aired on the day Buckingham Palace announced a bullying inquiry

The inquiry was launched after The Times on Tuesday reported allegations of bullying by the duchess's staff 

3/3/2021: ‘I can’t ever see those two back on the balcony’: Palace launches probe into Meghan bullying claims - leaving past and present Royal staff ‘shaken’ by ‘unhappy memories’ being brought up about a particularly ‘toxic period.’

Meghan allegedly inflicted 'emotional cruelty' on aides and 'drove them out' 

Harry and his wife were both also labelled 'outrageous bullies' in allegations 

'Broken' aides told of feeling humiliated, 'sick', 'terrified', left 'shaking' with fear 

Buckingham Palace announced a formal probe into the allegations in statement 

3/3/2021: Revenge of the Sussex survivors’ club: The extraordinary inside story of how a fairytale turned into a nightmare of ‘traumatised’ staff - by Royal Editor REBECCA ENGLISH, who saw so much of it herself

Members of 'Sussex Survivors' Club' worked for couple and lived to tell the tale 

Include US spin doctor Jason Knauf & Aussie private secretary Samantha Cohen

Some even believe they may have form of post-traumatic stress from experience 

But I have personally witnessed more than one member of staff driven to tears by the treatment they were subjected to by the duke and duchess before the couple acrimoniously quit as working royals. One person sobbed down the phone to me after a particularly harrowing day. They clearly felt emotionally broken and could no longer cope with the pressure they were being subjected to. Others have indicated to me they were being asked to behave in a manner they did not feel professionally comfortable with, particularly in their dealings with the media. Several aides have also told me that Meghan in particular was very good at 'drawing' staff into her confidence, flattering them as if they were the only person in the world she could trust and asking them to help her with various duties.

and

Toxic, hostile, distrustful, poisonous: all words I have heard regularly used over the past few years to describe people's experiences working in the Sussexes' household.

and

But I have since been told that this popular aide was deeply unhappy about her experience working for the duchess and had been 'desperate' to get out as long as she could professionally put a brave face on it. Likewise a third member of staff. Mr Knauf makes clear in his email, as reported by The Times, that he was also concerned about the couple's hugely experienced deputy private secretary, Samantha Cohen. She had worked for the Queen for more than 20 years and was personally persuaded by the monarch to stay on and help the couple navigate their first few years of royal life. He indicated that she was experiencing extreme stress and said: 'I questioned if the Household policy on bullying and harassment applies to principals [the term used to refer to a member of the royal family].' One source tells me wryly, with an eye to Meghan's much-hyped championing of female empowerment: 'Note that everyone concerned was a woman.' Another adds: 'Sam always made clear that it was like working for a couple of teenagers. They were impossible and pushed her to the limit. She was miserable.'

and

The Times also makes reference to an incident during the couple's tour to Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and Tonga in 2018, which was a particularly difficult one for all concerned, Meghan included. She was, of course, pregnant at the time. The newspaper reports how Meghan cut short a visit to a market in Fiji because she was concerned about the presence of a UN organisation promoting women, with which she had worked before and made clear she no longer wished to have anything to do with. At the time officials had suggested that it was because it was humid and the crowd was oppressive in the market. I was there at the time and witnessed Meghan turn and 'hiss' at a member of her entourage, clearly incandescent with rage about something, and demand to leave. I later saw that same – female – highly distressed member of staff sitting in an official car, with tears running down her face. Our eyes met and she lowered hers, humiliation etched on her features. At the time I was unable to document anything as I couldn't conclusively link the two incidents together, despite my suspicions. I have subsequently found out from other sources that my instincts were right.

3/4/2021: Duchesses at war: Meghan ‘blamed Kate and Camilla for leaking stories about her’, claims aide amid raging royal war - as at least TEN palace staff say they will cooperate with ‘bullying’ probe

Meghan and Harry felt stories were briefed by Kate, Camilla or Charles' households, the Palace insider said

Claimed couple 'assumed men in grey suits were obsessed with destroying them' during in Kensington Palace

Revelations came after Meghan was accused of 'driving out' two PAs and shattering the confidence of another

One former aide branded  Prince Harry and his wife 'outrageous bullies' in The Times earlier this week

Meghan said newspaper was 'being used by Buckingham Palace to peddle a wholly false narrative' about her

Comes ahead of Meghan and Harry's bombshell tell-all interview with Oprah Winfrey to be aired in the UK

3/4/2021: Meghan Markle’s ‘furious rows’ with aides over designer freebies: Staff warned Duchess it breached royal protocol to keep free clothes at time of bullying allegations, sources claim

Meghan Markle, 39, clashed with royal aides over freebie designer clothes 

Sources revealed designer outfits were sent to Kensington Palace for Duchess 

Insider said she 'had to be told it was not the done thing when you are a royal'  

Duchess has been accused of 'driving out' two PAs and acting like 'a bully'

Said to shatter confidence of another member of Kensington Palace staff 

Lawyers for the Sussexes have vehemently denied they have bullied or mistreated staff 

3/4/2021: ‘We can FINALLY tell the truth’: Former Royal aide who claims she was ‘bullied by Meghan Markle’ welcomes Palace probe and hopes it will put pressure on her and Harry to provide evidence

Meghan allegedly inflicted 'emotional cruelty' on aides and 'drove them out' 

Harry and his wife were both also labelled 'outrageous bullies' in allegations 

'Broken' aides told of feeling humiliated, 'sick', 'terrified', left 'shaking' with fear 

Buckingham Palace announced a formal probe into the allegations in statement

One alleged victim: 'We'll finally be able to tell the truth. It's not going to be easy' 

3/5/2021: EXCLUSIVE: ‘What’s done is done!’ Friends of Meghan say she would never postpone tell-all Oprah interview and clam palace is using Prince Philip’s health as an ‘excuse to keep her muzzled’

Mounting pressure has been put on Meghan and Harry to push back the much-anticipated interview special out of respect for Prince Philip's health 

'Even if Meghan had the choice to postpone the Oprah special she said she wouldn't,' a friend of the Sussexes tells DailyMail.com

The Duke of Edinburgh, 99, underwent heart surgery this week 

According to the well-placed  source,  the interview 'has absolutely nothing to do with Prince Philip and that this is just an excuse by the palace to keep her muzzled'

'Meghan said now the whole world can see what she had to endure for months on end,' they added

On Wednesday Buckingham Palace announced an inquiry into Meghan's behavior after The Times reported allegations of bullying by the duchess's staff 

'[Meghan] said these outrageous allegations confirm why she and Harry had to part ways and make it their mission to be a voice for the underdog,' they said 

3/5/2021: CBS releases new clip from bombshell interview: Meghan claims she was stopped by Palace aides from talking to Oprah ‘personally’ when host tried to set up interview with her before her wedding and says that she’s now ‘ready to talk’

Fourth clip from Oprah interview airs on CBS This Morning ahead of premiere on US network on Sunday night

Duchess of Sussex claims royal aides blocked her from having a personal conversation with Oprah Winfrey

Meghan says she remembers chat with Oprah 'very well' and there had to be other people in the same room

She adds that it's 'really liberating to be able to have the right and the privilege' to say 'Yes, I'm ready to talk'

Two-hour interview which also features Prince Harry will have its UK premiere on ITV next Monday at 9pm 

3/5/2021: Meghan Markle’s make-up artist BFF Daniel Martin shares a defiant poem claiming ‘the world cannot overcome her’ as he speaks out amid bombshell claims she bullied staff at Kensington Palace

Daniel, from New York, joined army of Meghan's pals who leapt to her defence

This week allegations were made that the Duchess of Sussex bullied former aides, 'driving out' two PAs and shattering confidence of another staff member 

Daniel shared a poem by Lao Tzu, a 4th century Taoist author and thinker

He accompanied candid snap of him applying blusher to the Duchess's cheeks

3/5/2021: Meghan’s best friend from college Lindsay Roth defends her from bombshell claims she bullied staff and claims that ‘goodwill runs in her bones’

Lindsay Jill Roth, Meghan Markle's best friend from college, rushed to her defense on Thursday amid bullying claims

The producer said in an Instagram post that 'goodwill runs in her bones'

She also branded the Duchess an 'altruistic, magnanimous friend'

The pair met while they were at Northwestern University 17 years ago 

Roth shared pictures from their graduation and her wedding day

Her comments came amid allegations Meghan bullied former aides, 'driving out' two PAs and shattering the confidence of another staff member

And ahead of Meghan and Harry's tell-all Oprah interview to be aired Sunday

3/11/2021: ‘Perhaps they can finally set the record state about me’: Meghan Markle’s biographer Omid Scobie quotes email he claims she sent to Kensington Palace over flower girl row with Kate - so who showed him the message?

Author of Finding Freedom claims Meghan emailed royal aide over the claims 

She allegedly asked if Kensington Palace could 'finally set the record straight' 

Meghan claimed this week it was Kate who made her cry in reported dress feud 

3/17/2021: Givenchy Anon

Meghan made Kate cry.

Bullied Charlotte, mocked and made fun of her voice

Screamed at the staff

Slapped one of the staff who was fitting her

Meghan encouraged Ivy to pick on Charlotte, to the point where Charlotte was pulled out of the fittings and her dress was made based on Florence van Cutsem’s measurements

Flower crowns for bridesmaids was given at the last minute

9/25/2021: The Meghan Paradox: Royal author ANDREW MORTON explores how she preaches compassion, yet cast her own father into outer darkness and claims she’s the victim of uncaring Royals, yet in truth was welcomed with open arms

11/29/2021: Meghan’s lawyer denies the Duchess of Sussex ever bullied staff in bombshell BBC documentary - saying she didn’t ‘repeatedly and deliberately hurt someone’ but adds she ‘wouldn’t want to negate anyone’s personal experiences’

Meghan allegedly inflicted 'emotional cruelty' on aides and 'drove them out'

Harry and his wife were both also labelled 'outrageous bullies' in allegations 

'Broken' aides told of feeling humiliated, 'sick', 'terrified', left 'shaking' with fear

Tonight her lawyer told BBC programme she did not carry out any bullying

But she added:  'She wouldn’t want to negate anyone’s personal experiences’

12/3/2021: Duchess of Cambridge was left in tears after confronting Meghan Markle over ‘bullying of Palace staff’ just days before the royal wedding, Camilla pal Kirstie Allsopp claims

Duchess of Cambridge was reportedly left in tears after row with Meghan Markle

The infamous argument came days before Meghan and Harry's wedding in 2018

Kirstie Allsopp has claimed the row was about claims Meghan had bullied staff

It has previously been claimed that the argument was over flower girl dresses

In her Oprah interview, Meghan had claimed that she was the one who had cried 

12/10/2021: Is Meghan ‘bullying’ probe being kicked into long grass? Buckingham Palace inquiry into allegations the Duchess of Sussex bullied staff only interviews ‘a tiny handful’ of people who worked for her

Revelation prompted fears the investigation is being 'kicked into the long grass'

Palace aides announced in March that they were launching an internal inquiry 

Staff were said to have been left in tears and feeling 'traumatised' 

1/6/2022: Damaging bullying claims are used ‘very casually’ over allegations Meghan Markle mistreated palace staff, duchess’s lawyer tells BBC’s Amol Rajan

Meghan Markle's lawyer Jenny Afia of Schillings claims allegations of bullying are used 'very casually'  

Miss Afia tells BBC that the word 'bullying' is a 'very, very damaging term... particularly for career women'

She spoke to Amol Rajan in podcast based on controversial royal documentary which aired last November

1/22/2022: Prince Andrew should be subject of bullying probe over ‘12 complaints’ made by Palace staff over ‘overbearing and verbally abusive’ behavior, according to a formal royal protection officer

Paul Page worked in the Royal Protection Command from 1998 until 2004

He has claimed he personally made three separate complaints to the Palace

Speaking to The Sunday Mirror, he said he is aware of 'at least a dozen' others

He alleged his complaints during his time working for the Palace were ignored 

Mr Page has now called on the palace to launch an investigation into Andrew

6/29/2022: Meghan ‘bullying’ inquiry buried: Findings of Palace probe into claims duchess drove out two ‘traumatised’ assistants will NEVER be made public…and even those who took part ‘haven’t been told the outcome’

Meghan is alleged to have ‘belittled’ two female assistants out of Royal service

Royal aides admitted for the first time that findings will never be made public  

Those who took part in the inquiry are said to not be told what the outcome is

Palace confirms that it's concluded and ‘recommendations' will be taken forward

6/30/2022: Palace aides’ refusal to publish findings of Meghan ‘bullying’ probe is an ‘olive branch’ to the Sussexes as royals face the prospect of release of Prince Harry’s memoir, say experts

Meghan is alleged to have ‘belittled’ two female assistants out of Royal service in claims that emerged in 2021

Royal aides who gave evidence have admitted for the first time that findings will never be made public 

Palace confirms that it's concluded and ‘recommendations' will be taken forward but will not publish report

6/30/2022: Buckingham Palace faces questions over Meghan ‘bullying’ probe as it ‘revises’ its HR policies in wake of inquiry but keeps its findings a SECRET…with even those who took part ‘not aware of the outcome’

Meghan is alleged to have ‘belittled’ two female assistants out of Royal service in claims that emerged in 2021

Royal aides who gave evidence have admitted for the first time that findings will never be made public 

Palace confirms that it's concluded and ‘recommendations' will be taken forward but will not publish report

6/30/2022: What do the Palace fear revealing about ‘Duchess Difficult’? Staff say they were ‘traumatised’ by Meghan’s behavior. But her defenders say she just had high standards. As a report into the episode is buried, RICHARD KAY examines the history of the saga.

9/21/2022: Ben Goldsmith claims Meghan Markle is disliked in Britain NOT because of racism but ‘because she is a manipulative bully who got found out’

Ben is a non-executive board member for the Department of Environment, Food, and Rural Affairs; brother to government minister Zac Goldsmith

9/24/2022: Palace aides take revenge on the ‘Difficult Duchess’: Insiders claim Meghan ‘moaned she wasn’t getting PAID for royal tours, agreed to Oprah interview SIX months before Megxit and reduced staff to tears with bullying and tantrums’ - in bombshell new book

Explosive extracts of Courtiers: The Hidden Power Behind the Crown by Valentine Low were published today   

Meghan did not understand why she had to shake people's hands during a tour of Australia, they revealed 

Sources claim Meghan bullied her staff who were 'terrified', 'broken' and 'destroyed' by her treatment of them

The book details a meeting where Meghan allegedly criticised a young female member in front of colleagues

9/24/2022: Meghan’s aides branded her a ‘narcissistic sociopath’ over her demanding behavior - and gave themselves the name ‘Sussex Survivors Club’, new book claims

New book claims that Meghan Markle's aides, the 'Sussex Survivors' Club', called her a 'narcissistic sociopath'

Courtiers: The Hidden Power Behind The Crown describes Sussexes' deteriorating relationship with staff

Book also claims that staff became convinced the Duchess wanted to show how the institution failed her

Some of Ms Markle's staff suspected that she left her Royal duties behind because she wanted to make money

10/25/2022: Meghan says ‘Duchess Difficult’ label was racist, connects it to the ‘Angry Black Woman’ archetype during a very special episode of her podcast

1/8/2023: Harry and Meghan’s 25-page rebuttal of bullying claims: Prince rails against royal staff ‘lies’ about his wife in book - and reveals couple filed hefty report ‘full of evidence’ to challenge claims

In his book Prince Harry says claims his wife Meghan Markle bullied staff are a lie

The Duke says he and Meghan produced a 25-page report to clear her name

She was accused of screaming and reducing royal household staff to tears

4/15/2024: Royal aide Samantha ‘the Panther’ Cohen confirms she was one of 10 courtiers interviewed over claims Meghan Markle ‘bullied’ Palace staff - as she reveals the late Queen ‘loved it’ when things went wrong

4/16/2024: Ex-Harry and Meghan aide Samantha ‘the Panther’ Cohen says palace staff struggled to find her successor as private secretary - and would-be replacement quit while ‘being shown the ropes’ on tour to Africa

4/24/2024: Buckingham Palace must release ruling over Meghan Markle staff bullying allegations, royal expert tells latest episode of YouTube talk show The Reaction

8/15/2024: RICHARD EDEN: The real reason Harry and Meghan have just lost their 18th staff member…according to my source

My first inkling that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex may have trouble holding onto staff came back in 2018 when I received a tip that Meghan’s personal assistant, Melissa Toubati, had quit suddenly, just six months after the American actress had married into the Royal Family. ‘It’s a real shock,’ a source told me at the time. ‘Why would she want to leave such a prestigious job so soon?’ Officials usually decline to discuss staffing matters, so it took me aback when a senior Palace source chose to pay tribute to her publicly. ‘Melissa is a hugely talented person,’ the source said. ‘She played a pivotal role in the success of the royal wedding and will be missed by everyone in the Royal Household.’ For someone to go out of their way to pay such fulsome tribute suggested Melissa’s colleagues were not happy with her departure. The fact she left so soon raised questions over the reasons for her exit. 

8/26/2024 - Kensington Palace insider brutal first reaction to Meghan Markle amid bullying claims, by The Mirror.

Allegations of bullying were behind Prince William's decision to split his household from Prince Harry's in 2019, according to a royal expert. William was made aware of claims that Meghan Markle had 'bullied' palace members of staff, which both the Duchess of Sussex and her husband Prince Harry have always denied. After an unsuccessful phone call to discuss matters with his brother, William decided to 'throw Harry out', Robert Lacey revealed in his book, Battle of the Brothers. Lacey further quotes a Kensington Palace courtier as saying: "Meghan portrayed herself as the victim, but she was the bully. People felt run over by her. They thought she was a complete narcissist and sociopath — basically unhinged."

[in3rci4]

Hi, can i get a tbp x male (or gn) reader that is new in town and they're the same age as the tbp boys but only looks older since they're taller and a bit more muscular than them. They don't speak English but understand it.

Thanks, have a great day/night

Thank you for sending a request <3 , I'm thankful you gave me the GN ! Reader because I feel it's the most comfortable one to write , I hope you also have great day / night too buddy !

〰️THE BLACK PHONE BOYS X NEW IN TOWN READER 〰️

Characters included : Finney Blake ( Minus mention of Gwendolyn Blake ), Robin Arellano , Bruce Yamada , Billy Showalter , Griffin Stagg , Vance Hopper

Warning of following headcanons ¿? : The Black phone x reader characters content , since it was requested the reader will have a certain type of looks and doesn't speak English , slight angst ¿? , bullying , GN ! Reader , the reader does exercise , some characters may take longer to read than others , reader is good at mathematics ¿? , desk mates thrope sometimes ¿? racism , mute shaming , agression ¿?

FINNEY BLAKE

You were a new student in school and everybody talked about how old you look and that you're probably a repeater He believed it at first too

Except for the slightly notorious musculature in your body , you were pretty average at first sight , so yeah , you were someone new in town , but that's it

Until you get inside the classroom ( the same as Finney ) and tried to talk with the teacher about your situation since you wouldn't be able to be as participating as you wish since you can't speak English yet

Everybody started to laugh and mock your poor attempts , the teacher sushed the giggles down and explain that you're a foreigner but you're still understand everyone's words

You appreciated the gesture , but the damage was already done , now everyone's side eye and mean starting was even worse than before , and it's not like you can talk back either ...

If there's something worse than a hairy eyeball , is a entire class giving you that type of glare or giggling shamelessly in your presence

He felt bad for you , and since his table was the only left to sit on , you were his new desk mate now

" don't listen to them , at least you tried "

You smiled and he smiled back

He thinks you look really pretty when you smile .

The next minutes were free since the teacher got outside to talk with a parent , he told you that even if he's not that fan of participating , he could read the answers of your work if you wanted to , maybe teach you to speak English better

You wrote a note " Can you stop at my house after school tomorrow so you can teach me ? I'll pay you , don't worry "

You passed the note , Finney was going to grab his pen and write too , but instead he said :

" Yeah sure , if that's cool with you I'll go , and you don't have to pay me , I'm just helping , that's all "

Yeah .... That's was all ....

You smiled and moved your lips to say "Thank you " in silence

You got yourself a pretty handsome tutor , huh ?

Oh if Gwen didn't tease the hell of out him , but he couldn't stop smiling like a idiot , can you blame him though ?

Tomorrow it would just the two of you , and he'll hear your voice much clearly and appreciate it like he wants to

GRIFFIN STAGG

He was on the library reading " Pleasant Dreams : Nightmares " by Robert Bloch when he saw a shadow towering him , and when he lift his head up to see , he told you almost automatically by instinct that he doesn't have any lunch money

You frowned in confusion and shook your head , and pointed at the book

Now Griffin was the confused now , you're interested in what he's reading ? Or you're confusing the book with another one that school tells you to read as assignment ?

You weren't speaking , and neither him , wich was very awkward , so you decided to sit next him , take notebook out of your backpack and write in a teared page :

{ Sorry , I don't speak English but i understand it , you also had read it too ? It's really spooky and has a lot of cool stories }

So that was the reason you weren't speaking.... Interesting . Well , besides your looks you don't seem like a bad person , maybe he could try and write something too ?

{ I didn't finished it yet , I was just about to start the " Catnip " story , you read it before ? Do you like horror books ? }

You tossed that piece of paper around until it was full and you tore apart another page to keep the " conversation " , you both had a lot in common , and he didn't expected you to be the same age as him !

The time was over and you both needed to head to class , but surprise , surprise , you two shared classes !

When you two got your homework done of the day during class , you continued your paper writing until the class was over

Now how could he keep talking to you if he didn't have any papers to write anymore ?

Wait .... He can , but he needs to be one talking

Darn , he's not that much of a talker , or well , he never had the opportunity before

Guess he has to do an exception for you , huh ?

For the following time , he became your friend and extrovert one of the two so you don't lose interest in him

For the sake of your friendship , maybe if you want to , in the future something more

VANCE HOPPER

" New kid in town " , that was your nickname , "Pin Ball Vance Hopper " was his

But one day , your nickname changed , and that day was the day you met Vance at the Grab n Go

You were taking your time looking at the snacks on the shelves since you never tried them before and wanted to spend your money fairly , and then you felt someone pushed you out of the way

Disoriented , you tripped , and bumped into the Pin Ball machine , his Pin Ball machine

The kids on the mall gasped when they heard the sound of the score lowering down , like a rabid dog , he grabbed your arm and started to shake and yell you :

" You fucking piece of dumbass , you made me lose my game ! You know how many times I tried to beat that fucking score , huh !?"

You were so shocked that you couldn't even move or plead for some mercy over you , just stay there and look at him like a deer in lights

" So !? Speak ! Are you mute or what !?"

It was almost like your staring and silence was way worse than any insult that Vance has received , are you challenging him ? Are you waiting for him to throw a punch or an insult at you ? Why are you looking at him like that with those eyes ?

Then with a stuttered voice , you tried to say that you were sorry and that you were pushed against the machine by other people that no longer are on the mall in the best way you could mixing your language with english words

With a irritated sigh , he let go of your arm , but not before saying :

" You own me , remember that dip shit "

You went out of the mall almost running away , kinda relieved it didn't end in something worse

Then the next day , your first day in school , you found yourself in the same room as him , again , and the cherry of the cake , you were gonna be his desk mate

You avoided the slightest eye contact or accident that could happen so you didn't made him mad again , he was a short fuse even with the teachers that pissed him off

The mathematics exam day came and you were about to finish the whole thing in the first 10 minutes ( good thing that the mathematics are almost the same around the world ) , but in the corner of your eye you saw a puzzled Vance trying to figure out the content inside of that paper

And yeah ... He was an asshole , and you didn't need to risk your grades for him , but you owned him , right ?

When the teacher turned around , you touched his arm and silently pushed a little bit your exam to his side . He was confused at first , but the same eyes that stared at him in terror at the Grab n Go before , were telling him now to take the opportunity

Smirking , he noted your answers with the smart of a student that has cheated multiple times before , and then pretended to be frustrated by the exam a few minutes more for " extra credibility "

The very next day , when you both received A+ in your exams , he looked at your direction with hesitation

" Thanks for the A I guess , but why you did it ? "

You wrote in your notebook with his pen that was near by and showed it to him

" I owned you :) "

Since then , you started learning to throw hands with him and Vance to insult in your language , that was if he wasn't playing his adored Jungle Queen Pin Ball Machine with you by his side

Let's just say that your nickname changed to " the new in town kid " to " Vance's protected one" real quick

BRUCE YAMADA

He was the one assigned to guide you through school and he was excited to do so , he tried his best to make you feel at home because even if he's a very popular boy , he still understands the struggles of changing schools and being a foreigner

So he invited you to sit on his table , be on his team on P.E classes ( where your teacher jokingly told Bruce to watch out for the competition , although he understood this as a " This kid can be better than you " because of your body than " you have watch out for any other trying to steal them from you " way ) , go to his games , community reunions , etc

You liked his social and outgoing nature and appreciated his invitations and including in his group of friends , but you felt like a fish out of the water , you couldn't talk that much and you only listened and responded one or two questions that they had about you

Not only that , you felt like his friends weren't that fond of you , almost like they only tolerate you because of Bruce

Your theory was confirmed when Bruce invited you to a party and in the moment you were alone , they started to ask you passive aggressive questions like , " You also came here for easy jobs ?" " Your parents are immigrants too or one of them married an American to get free pass ?" " In your country people are quiet like you ?" " If you are able to understand us , then why you can't talk to us too , huh ?" " Do you talk at all or what ?"

Uncomfortable with their tone you tried to leave and tell Bruce however you could that you wanted to leave , but they didn't let you , and started to push you around in a circle while laughing that you couldn't tell them anything back while insulting you with all the names they had for your people

It wasn't until Bruce asked what's going on and put an arm around you in a comfort and assertive way that they stopped , Bruce told them that it wasn't cool to make someone feel that way for where they come from or their personalities , but they started to clap back racist insults and mute shaming you and you couldn't handle it anymore

He tried to find you inside and outside of the party , but you were already gone .

The next week on the hallway he grabbed your wrist gently asking you to go somewhere private , that it wasn't anything funny , just to talk about what happened that night on a empty art classroom that nobody uses

" Hey I'm really , really , sorry for what happened that night , I didn't know they were going to do that or say those things , I wouldn't let you alone or go to the party in the first place if I did . I just wanted to let you know that I don't share at all their opinions about you , nobody chooses where they come from or learns to speak a entire language in one day , if they can't understand that , then it's better for them to mind their business "

You nodded , but you were just not going to sit near him or his friends anymore , he seemed sincere on his apology , but a voice in the back of your mind was telling you to keep your distance , because maybe , just maybe , it was his idea all along

On the old local gym where the entrance money is cheaper than the modern one in town that everyone goes , you were exercising on your own trying to clear your mind and letting the stress in your body

Until you hear a familiar voice from behind you

" Hey , mind if take those dumbbells ?"

Is he following you ? You only nodded and continue to work out

" Hey , uh , do have a minute to talk ? Or well , listen ?"

You frowned but listened anyways

" I know that things have been awkward lately but... It's ok for you if we hang out somewhere else ? Just the two of us , no one else "

You thought about it for a second.... But damn if he wasn't cute and made you fell for his charm every single time

Bruce with time got closer and more comfortable to be open with you and vice versa , he recommended you an English tutor to help you speed up your pronunciation , started to invite you and only you to his house , plan " dates that weren't dates " until the rumours of you two going around became true

What can he say ? Athletic , smart , attractive and non judging , he felt free to be himself with you , and that , is something that the girls that were crazy over him could never do

That's why they and his old friends give you the hairy eyeball , but you couldn't care less about it

ROBIN ARELLANO

Robin was minding his business while looking inside his locker for that stupid mathematics book , but he noticed that the next locker on his right wasn't the same big dude with sweat smell anymore , but you , a new pretty face that seemed to like being in shape

Contrary of what students think , he's an awkward boy maybe that's why he gets along with Finney so well , and yes he had some street and fighting knowledge , but he wasn't a Casanova at all

So lost in his thoughts about what he could possibly do or say to look cool and start a chit chat with you , that he didn't notice that you were already gone

Carajo , you really don't like being late to class , huh ?

He damned himself for being too slow and headed to Mr Johnson's class

But , but , but , his locker " neighbor" was already inside , sitting right in front of his seat . Mr Johnson , being the energetic and hurried man that he is didn't waste no time in telling Robin to sit down to start the explanation

He didn't care to listen before , it was useless on his opinion because either way he wouldn't understand a thing , but since his grades are being under the line of average he needed to pay attention , but with you " blocking " the view , it was more difficult if only you weren't so cute to look on

Explanation over , class assignment was on , and you were the first one to finish it , and for everyone's surprise , Mr Johnson didn't find any mistake , so you were free until everyone finished their ones

But there's something that Robin noticed , and it's that you never speak in class or with anyone at all , maybe you're shy ? Perhaps mute ?

Well , he needed to find out . He touched your shoulder and tried to ask you how did you resolved everything in no time , you were hesitating in talking , so he thought that you being a shy was a thing , but then you started to slowly try to put English words together in a sentence , and then he understood everything

You are not only new in school , but also a foreigner . He then sighed and , without realizing , smiling at you while saying :

" Hey it's cool , chill , no need to try if you don't want to . You understand me , right ?"

You nodded and smiled shyly

" Ok , how about I speak , and you answer with yes or no until you learn a little bit to talk English , sounds good ? "

You nodded once again , and turned back with your cheeks burning from the blush . He's not that much of a talker , but he more than anyone knows how hard it is to go to school and not having English as your first language that's why he fails with fast talker teachers so why not befriend you and letting you know that he has your back ?

He skipped P.E before your arrive , but now , he's showing the hell off , every chance that he gets to prove how strong he is will be taken

He needs to climb a rope faster than any other kid in P.E ? Right on jumping to action . Need help with a heavy book or backpack ? Does the teacher want strong boys to move chairs and tables ? He's the first one to offer help

It's already obvious , or at least for the majority , that you being one of Robin's best friend crush makes you , even without you noticing it , untouchable , and whoever dares to touch you , would be in less than a week with a serious injury on their faces for testing your kindness and Robin's patience . Trust me , he will make sure they will stay visible for a long time for others that had the same thought back off

Finney catched the attentive attitude of his friend and started to help you learn English or other subjects that you both are having difficulties ( He has a love - hate type of relationship with being the third wheel , but he knows Robin would do the same for him , so he accepts it )

You shared your exercise routine and he loved it , well , he loved everything about you , the food you make , the music of your origin country , your language slangs , everything

Be patient , one day he'll loose the fear of ruining the friendship between you two and you'll be going around like lovers do

BILLY SHOWALTER

Thanks to his job he knows almost everyone in the neighborhood or at least recognizes their faces ( this last thing is the most common one )

Coming back home after finishing his route he saw you carrying a bag of groceries , he didn't recognize you , but didn't give it that much of attention until you fell down to the ground for tripping over a tiny little rock

He stopped his bike and ran in your direction to help , he tried to put back all the groceries but Harper started to lick them off while barking when she got scolded for it

He grabbed your arms and helped you to get up , unintentionally feeling your biceps and getting a little flustered but didn't showed it ( damn you must strong if you had those in your arms he thought )

Just a little clumsy , but he can't speak that much either , counting how many times he fell down his bike for one sec distractions

You put back what was left of groceries and thanked him in your language , he was surprised , he never heard anyone speak another language before outside English except on the TV , so he asked you to repeat yourself , not in a threatening way , he just wanted to hear again the words that you spoke

You repeated yourself , and he laughed in surprise , its so cool !

Even if you did what he asked you to , he didn't know that if you understood English completely

" Wait , you understand English , right ? like , everything in English ? Did you already tried one of our best America's stuff ? Do you listen american or british singers or ..? "

He never speaks that much , he's somehow someone reserved with his words but this time he was too excited to hold back , although he came back to himself when he realized he was being a little too much

He walked you home asking a you a lot of questions that you only answered shaking or nodding your head , giving advices that he thought would be useful to you , telling how nice the the neighborhood is , America's best traditions , food that you needed to try , movies , in general being excited to show off his love for the United States

Once you got inside waving your hand , he couldn't help to hop on his bike again and ride as fast as he could to his home and tell his family about you , he met a strong and cute foreigner for the first time today !

The times that he encounter you , now in a much calmer way , he would try to get to know you and your culture , so slowly you two got a cultural exchange , he inviting to his house and 4th of July festivals , carnavals , thanksgiving , you get it

And since he was nice to you and didn't mind you or your inability to speak English , with time he started to go to your house as well , your family jokingly making you embarrassed by saying you didn't waste time on finding a boyfriend

So in general , don't be afraid to be yourself around him , he would love to show you how great America is , and it's ok if you don't want to try everything that he says , as long as you still being friends with him , he's satisfied

Who knows , maybe one day you both could live the American Dream together

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🐝

tagged by the always lovely and talented (and a tad ouchy) @bucksbiawakening @theotherbuckley @underwaterninja13 @wikiangela @jesuisici33

@spotsandsocks @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @elvensorceress @tizniz

@thewolvesof1998 (be sure to check out their snippets and fics if you haven't) (p.s. shameless plug that I'm updating my tag list for tag days, fics, etc.)

SO, James gave me this wonderful gift of a ballet au snippet after I bullied him into suggested it. In return (and since I was already toying with it) I made him some Bridgerton sentences. Follows this snippet. Master list here.

Henrietta and Karen Wilson, along with their son, Denny, are a staple of the Ton. They’re said to be closely connected to Robert Nash and his wife, Athena, though Eddie isn’t sure exactly how. He’s familiar with both families, but hasn’t had much opportunity to mingle with them. If mingling was something Eddie engaged in.  “Hen!” Chimney opens his arms wide to embrace her and then Karen. “How are my favorite hostesses tonight?” Hen and Karen share a skeptical look before Hen turns toward Chimney, raising an eyebrow. “Delighted, Howard. What do you need?”  “Henrietta!” He holds one hand to his chest in mock offense. “Can I not say hello to my two dearest friends?” “No,” Karen and Hen answer in unison.  Eddie stifles a chuckle, drawing Karen’s attention.  “Oh, hello,” she says politely, extending her hand to him. “I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m-” “Karen and Henrietta Wilson,” Eddie interjects, taking Karen’s hand and placing a kiss there before releasing it. “Edmundo Diaz. But you can call me Eddie.”  “I could’ve done all that,” Chimney mumbles under his breath.  “And you can call me Hen.” She offers him a mischievous smirk, nodding towards Chimney. “I’ll forgive you for keeping company with this one. So, what brings you over, Eddie?” “I was hoping you could help me. Or, I suppose, my mother is hoping you can help me.” “Oh?” He gives both women an abbreviated summary of his situation, explaining his ‘need’ to find a wife.  “Well,” Hen taps her chin. “I don’t suppose…” She trails off, glancing at her wife. They share small nods as if they’re having a silent conversation.  Eddie begins to fidget, looking between Hen, Karen and Chimney. Finally, Hen looks at Eddie again.  “Does it need to be a wife? Or a spouse?” “I-” The world around him seems to go quiet, replaced by a loud buzzing that drowns it all out. What would make her think- “A wife. It has to be- a wife,” he stutters.  Karen gives him an almost sympathetic look, like she knows something he doesn’t, then grasps her wife’s hand. “I may have one suggestion,” Hen says, carefully. “Bobby and Athena are hosting someone this season. A... widow. No children of her own. But she is being accompanied by her younger brother who I understand is a bit- protective.” “And persnickety,” Karen adds.  Eddie breathes an internal sigh of relief. A widow could be ideal. Someone who might be able to understand his complicated grief. And it’s not as if Eddie has any liabilities, beyond his mother of course. Charming one sibling should be simple enough.

np tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @actuallyitsellie @filet-o-feelings

@queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @chaosandwolves @epicbuddieficrecs @eowon

@fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @saybiwithme @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck

@indestructibleheart @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites

@lizzie-bennetdarcy @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway @monsterrae1 @rmd-writes

@shipperqueen6 @spaceprincessem @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @steadfastsaturnsrings

@the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck

@welcometololaland @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @a-noble-dragon @mrs-f-darcy

@drowsy-quill and anyone else who wants to 😘

[starlightwoofwoof]

you know what frick it

I’m making a Spooky Month AU based off of one of my favorite Goosebumps books

anyway for the whole starting point of this, here’s if Skid, Pump, Ross, Roy and Robert attended King Jellyjam’s Sports Camp (and also featuring some skin complexion headcanons as well cause why not heh)

Extra info :

Lila let Skid go to Camp Jellyjam after he saw a sign-up poster for it in town. Not sure why, but she eventually let him go there. Pump kinda just tagged along with Skid-

Skid is always wearing something skeleton related and Pump is always wearing pumpkin related lol

They stay as close to each other as possible, even entering the same competitions just to be with each other

Buddy (the head counselor, you can see him in multiple of my previous posts lol) thinks they’re slightly annoying, but they’re super energetic. He also thinks they should probably try to actually compete instead of them entering the same competitions just so they can be with each other, and letting each other win-

I’m not sure if they would ever meet King Jellyjam in person, but if they did, they would either think he’s super cool, or they would be too distracted by how bad he smells to care about his ‘coolness’-

Skid and Pump had tried to befriend Alicia multiple times, but she’s a bit shy. They were honestly worried about her after she disappeared, but they were happy to see her after everyone was saved.

Speaking of that, the boys were honestly a bit suspicious about the whole thing, especially after Alicia went missing. They weren’t really able to figure it out though before the whole secret came out.

Alright, that’s it for Skid and Pump, I think.

HATBOI TIME

Extra Info :

Okay, first off, Ross. Obviously, of course Jaune let him go-

Ross, despite being a bit of an introvert and also the slight age gap, had made good acquaintances with Elliot

I kinda headcanon Ross liking music, and a lot of bands, so I wanted to give him a band shirt. Problem : I don’t really have any knowledge on any bands, so I just picked my sister’s favorite band-

Also yes, he sharpied a replica of Aaron’s tattoo on his arm-

Buddy thinks Ross could be more sociable, and less nervous when he’s competing, but he thinks he’s kinda cool. Ross doesn’t mind Buddy, but he does think he’s kinda creepy sometimes cause of how happy he is, and his signature grin

Okay, time for Roy. I’m not sure why in the world Carmen or Richard would let him go to a sport’s camp- maybe they saw how ‘expensive’ the playing fields, equipment and dorms were and thought he deserved to go to ‘experience luxury’ lmao

Roy is extremely competitive, despite not really being a sport’s guy. He always tries to win, probably because of an ego thing, or to de-stress, idk

Roy kinda made ‘friends’ with Jeff. (well it was more of a frenemy kind of thing, y’know, them both kinda being bullies and them being competitive)

I didn’t know what outfit to give him honestly, idk what a ‘elegant summer look’ even would be, so I just gave him the outfit from the Mother’s Day 2024 drawing but with the sleeves rolled up lol

Buddy doesn’t like him all too much, thinks he’s incredibly rude, but he does like how competitive he is, and tries to be as friendly as he can to him

Now, as you can see, Roy got 6 King Coins. That means he can go onto the Winner’s Walk :D (and also be a slave for King Jellyjam but let’s talk about that later)

Ross and Robert were extremely happy for him, but they started to worry once they realized he went missing the next day. They practically interrogated Buddy on it, until they gave up, figuring he went home

Roy didn’t go home, though. He was busy cleaning King JJ before Wendy came to save everyone. Luckily, he didn’t die, but that incident might carry with him, along with all his other trauma (poor boy why did I pick you to be the one to suffer ☹️)

A n y w a y, Robert is last. He’s just a little silly :3

He really does like everything- but his personal favorite sports were baseball, soccer, and the Marbles Tournaments

He likes talking about aliens, and other cool things in the spare time he’s not playing sports (which is literally almost never)

Robert also made nice acquaintances with Elliot

Robert misses his siblings tho, he wishes he could at least talk to them :(

He could also been seen with Ross and Roy a lot when they’re not busy with sports

These three were all roommates, along with some kid named Joe. Who’s Joe? JOE MA-

Buddy quite likes Robert, they both think each other is cool

OKAY ENOUGH OF THAT-

okay, to end this off, here’s some more general info I thought up for now :

Since the two medias take place in completely different time periods (assuming the book’s events take place the same year it was released, it would be 1995), I wasn’t sure what to do, but I just picked SM’s time period, around 2012

I don’t think it’ll change too much, honestly, just with the whole pay phones not being there. I don’t think they’ll allow cellphones at Camp Jellyjam anyway- (everybody’s ages will probably remain the same too)

omg just imagine one of the SM adults attended the camp as a counselor

OMG KEVIN

okay I think I’ll shut up now uhhhh

one more thing, here’s something with Buddy

I’m losing it

[that-ari-blogger]

A New Face (Separate Tides)

During its second season, The Owl House had hit its stride and wasn't slowing down. This is my favourite season, and that isn't an unpopular sentiment.

Separate Tides is the opening episode of this season, so it needs to recap the previous goings on and themes in a cohesive way for new viewers, and take the series in a different direction that stays loyal to those themes and plotlines. I think this episode does that well.

But this isn't a summary blog, this is a blog where I find something needlessly specific and gush about the implications of that something.

So... The Golden Guard is so ****ing cool.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (The Owl House, The Harry Potter Series)

I've mentioned in the past that The Owl House uses archetypal storytelling to a truly masterful degree. It takes tropes and meets them on a superficial level, then twists them in a way that adds depth and makes the series unique.

For example, the series is directly drawing inspiration from the works of Robert Galbraith, with Willow being the bullied kid with a passion for herbology, and Amity being the school bully who definitely has a crush on the main character. Both take the archetype and shake it up a bit, as is the way with parody, but the baseline is there.

This leans into the themes of being your own person rather nicely, as it makes the deviations from the archetype more important.

I took great pains to point out that Luz is the only character who doesn't fit the mould at all. She has no analogue and is her own person completely. She has nothing to restrict her.

However, leaves the analogue for the actual protagonist of Galbraith's books. Obviously, not every character from the series is parodied, but the chosen one main character seems like a weird one to miss out on.

I would argue that Mr Potter does have an analogue, Hunter Whittebane (Or Hunter Noceda or Hunter Demonne or even Hunter Clawthorn. Whichever name you prefer, its the same guy).

He is a child soldier, raised by his uncle and manipulated into giving his life away for the cause by an old wizard. He bears a scar on his face, and is technically half witch, half human.

Although we don't actually see any of that in Separate Tides. Instead, we are introduced to the Golden Guard, a character who is suave and cool and confident.

The first time we actually see this character is in the final scene of the previous season.

"Worry not, Kiki. We'll be keeping an eye on the inhabitants of the Owl House."

The Golden Guard is a goon, an elite goon, but a goon none the less. He is simply a character whom Belos turns to in order to get the job done.

But, I find the use of vernacular here interesting. Belos doesn't refer to the Golden Guard with any name, or even as a separate entity from himself. Not "he will be watching them" or "this is the Golden Guard, I trust him to get the job done". This character is referred to as "we". He and Belos are connected. This character is simply Belos' eye.

Then, in Separate Tides, it is established that, when Lilith fell from grace, she was replaced by the Golden Guard.

"He always got special treatment because he was the genius teen prodigy. But he's really just a brat."

So, this is a child, but a gifted child. Lilith is dismissive here, but not of the Golden Guard's skill, just his personality. This is someone for whom things come naturally, allegedly, and who has never had to work for his abilities. Allegedly.

"Unfortunately, you won't have the chance."

The Golden Guard's first line is just cool. He is calm and collected. He is in control. And he has just easily captured one of the protagonists.

I also love the little fact that he has spent the entirety of this voyage in a dimly lit room, eating crackers. The room has nothing to do in it except books. So, he was definitely just sitting there, reading, and had to improvise when King burst into the room. He's a bookworm with an ability to think on the spot.

I'm saying this guy would definitely play Pathfinder or D&D if he was given a chance.

Anyway, the Golden Guard's actual introduction comes fourteen minutes into the episode, and it immediately sets this guy up as a threat. He's martially competent, magically adept, and fully in his element. This is a character who revels in control, just like the Emperor.

And that link to Belos is interesting. Because forgive me for asking, why would an Emperor's elite goon be a child? As in, there has to be a connection to Belos beyond what meets the eye for the Golden Guard to be anywhere near where he is.

We don't get told that here, but we do see that this character's skillset is kinda similar to Belos', in theory. He's commanding, and he gets people to do what he wants. But in practice, this isn't Belos at all. This is someone trying very hard to be like Belos, but coming at it from a different angle.

I do, however, think that the Golden Guard's greatest strength as a goon is revealed subtly in this scene.

"The Emperor ordered me to slay one. I'm just following orders."

We've seen through Lilith in the previous season that Belos covets blind loyalty, and that is what the Golden Guard offers him. He doesn't know or care why the Emperor does what he does, he just follows orders.

Essentially, the Golden Guard is a traditional Disney villain at this point. He is fun, bisexual, charismatic, and a physical threat. The Golden Guard we get introduced to is enjoyable to watch, and it sounds like Zeno Robinson is having a blast voicing him.

However, there is one element of the Golden Guard that we get introduced to in this episode that might fly under the radar. The Owl House is no stranger to masks, and people putting on a show to get the job done, but when we are first shown the Golden Guard in this episode, he is taking it off.

The intro sequence of this season features three characters who are under Belos' command. Lilith, The Golden Guard, and Kikimora. It then unmasks them, with Lilith becoming apologetic, and Kikimora becoming more aggressive. But the Golden Guard sits between them, removing his own mask to reveal... a single purple eye.

The eye is the window to the soul, of course. But there is something to the manner in which this is happening. Kikimora has been angered to the point of lashing out, and Lilith has been brought low with remorse. The Golden Guard, however, is lowering his own mask and staring directly at you with an air of "I'm doing this of my own accord. I see you, you see me, your move."

I wonder if agency is going to be a theme with this character.

Final Thoughts

I love Hunter so much it is obscene, and there is a ton of ambiguity about him right from the bat. What is his stake in this? Who actually is he? And why does he have a purple eye?

As for the rest of this episode, Luz's guilt is starting to be expressed. In my opinion that is for the first time, but I have heard it said that this isn't a new character trait for her.

And Lilith... *sighs* There is a sentiment online as to the expedience of Lilith's redemption arc. Some people like it, others think she should have been "punished" more, and I would like to take a third rout.

I don't believe in punitive justice for fictional characters, and I certainly don't believe in telling writers how they should write. I do, however, think that it could have been slightly more interesting if the consequences of cursing Eda were explored more psychologically.

In any case, however, the series we got is the series we got, and I think it is perfectly fine, if not better, as it is. I don't see a point in getting angry online over what could have been.

Next week, I am looking as Escaping Expulsion and boy, do I have thoughts about Odalia Blight. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[ask-the-skirtz]

HI HELLO You three are adorable

Anyway, question. I think Regina's opinion of them is very clear, but what are Rachel and Regan's opinions on the Hatzgang? Or Skid and Pump, if they've met them

"No, yeah, Roy is insufferable."

"True. He's constantly buzzing around us three, tormenting us and trying to get a reaction."

"And then starts whining like a baby when Regina loses it and punches him."

"...I mean, he's not evil or anything. I think he does what he does as an outlet for his stress."

"Empathize with him all you want. Still, he takes it way too far. Expecially with those two kids-"

"Remember when Regina found out about the "Halloween Party at the Creepy House" prank he did to them?? I really thought she was gonna straight up kill him-"

"Oh, yeah, we had to physically restrain her for what, like an hour?"

"Oh, Ross's cool."

"Yeah. Chill guy. Actually puts Roy in his place sometimes. Plus, he has a good taste in music."

"Yeah, too bad we can't hang out with him or Robert, Regina would probably never speak to us again-"

"Oh, Rob's a lot of fun! Love the guy!"

"Yeah, he's sweet! He used to be way more of a bully a couple years ago, but he matured and now he's really nice. Ross matured too, honestly, we love to see it."

"I wish I got along with my siblings as much as he does."

"We made a 'Get Well Soon' card for his little sister once. He liked it."

"Regina! Wanna answer to this one too?"

"What's it about?- Oh, those two. Eh, they're children, they're a bit annoying sometimes but, like, they're seven at best. Nice to see they're enjoying Halloween."

"They're a bit weird, but in a good way. Loving their dedication to wearing halloween costumes in the middle of June."

"Hmh! I really like them, they're so cute and small and squishy!"

"Eugh."

"What, you say this as if you didn't get all protective over them after the 'stars's incident-"

"SHSHSHSSTTT THAT'S NOT TRUE I DID NOT GET PROTECTIVE OVER TWO WEIRD KIDS, SHUSH-"

[aphroditeslover11]

A Night At The Opera

More requests are on their way, I seem to have come down with something again so everything is just taking a while.

Anyway, some preferences inspired by my trip yesterday of what it would be like to go to the opera with a few of our boys. It’s fun alone, but I dare say it would be more entertaining with one of them!

Moodboard below is sourced from Pinterest photos.

Robert Fischer:

I feel like if he was going to an opera it would usually be for something to do with business, he would probably be more interested in networking than the music. After a while of you being together he would ask you along to one of these events, probably to the MET opera in New York.

He would be surprised when you were actually excited about going, waving the libretto in front of him and trying to tell him everything that you had found out about the composer before you went.

He would make sure that you were treated like a princess all evening, being driven to the theatre with him in the back of a private limousine and being pandered to all evening with champagne in the private box that was booked for his party. He would go so far as banning any business talk during the performance so that you could watch undisturbed.

He loved to watch how your face lit up as the singers dived from aria to aria, even crying in parts. He was aware of what was going on on stage, but spent most of the evening watching you. At the end you would fly to your feet in a standing ovation, realising moments later that you were the only one in the box doing so, he would quickly stand up, joining you to stop you from feeling conspicuous. Of course, after the successful business man was up, the rest of the box followed in suit.

He would become a patron of the MET opera after this, telling you as a surprise on your birthday. He’d go to events with you as often as he could.

Tommy Shelby:

He would only ever go to an opera if it was absolutely necessary, most likely something to do with his new intelligence activities.

He’d be the most unenthusiastic audience member ever, probably saying that opera was a pile of rubbish. Even if he did happen to actually enjoy it he wouldn’t admit it, worried that it would impact his image.

If you asked him to go back with you he’d playfully tease you and tell you to take Alfie instead. He was more than a bit irritated when one day he received a phonecall saying that you had called his bluff, actually spending the evening at the Royal Opera House with Solomons!

Lenny Miller:

He’d take you to the opera at the Palais Garnier in Paris for his birthday. He was a relatively cultured person and had been a few times before, unlike you who were completely unfamiliar.

The idea came from when you had forced him to watch Pretty Woman one evening and had asked him what the opera was actually like. Hence, he had decided that for your first opera visit he was going to take you to see La Traviata.

He gave you the full treatment beforehand, even though it was his celebration. He made sure that you went shopping for a new dress and whatever else you might need. You used the opportunity whilst he was at work to buy his present as well, a new watch that he wore on the evening of the performance.

The evening was amazing, going out for dinner before heading to the theatre. You were in a private box, about two tiers up with an amazing view. Lenny managed to book it through a contact he had from the agency.

He was nervous that you wouldn’t share his enjoyment of the performance, but he could see it in your eyes how moved you were by the music. You were on top of the world when your drinks arrived at the interval, snuggling into his side for the second act. Pretty Woman had been right, there certainly was something romantic about the opera.

Oppie (pre Los-Alamos):

Every year his friends went on a trip to opera and every year they managed to bully him into going. It was no secret how much he despised it, always finding it too much for him and walking out after the first act.

This year he was finally planning on saying no, only then to find out that you (who he had developed a secret soft-spot for recently) were going along as well. He melted to butter when you asked him if he would go along and immediately agreed.

On the car journey there he would be in a foul mood, constantly reminding himself that it would be worth it though. He tried to focus on how you were pushed against him each time there was a bump in the road as a reminder of your presence.

As the orchestra played the first note he was filled with dread, knowing what he had just sentenced himself to. It turned out to be worth it though, as when things began to get uglier it was his hand that you reached for. He was sure that he was in.

This was the first time he managed to stay put for the entire performance.

[campoverlook-if]

Progress Update #4// 4/3/24

Hey everyone, just wanted to update you all on the story.

I've started a new process for the past few days where I write for two hours and then take fifteen-thirty minute breaks in between. I'm still blanking on what to write for a section sometimes, but I'm really trying not to have grayed out choices again. That was NOT fun.

Still, the writing process shouldn't be forced, but sometimes you just really need to kick your own ass and grab that text file by the ears. Plus, this is the most productive I've felt since getting my wisdom teeth removed.

In celebration of this new bout of inspiration, here's a sneak peek of an upcoming scene you may encounter in the update.

Alright, that's it. This girl can't just bully you away because she doesn't like you. You hadn't even done anything when she first started acting nasty towards you. Yes, you may have walked away in the middle of a conversation, but she had been so…aggressive. You weren't just going to stand there and take it, and you definitely weren't going to start now. So, you take a step closer to Claire, giving her a leveled glare of your own. "Last time I checked, this table doesn't belong to you." Tension quickly fills the air around the two of you. Claire doesn't respond to your retort, but she doesn't need to. Her body language gives you all the information you need to know.

Ooooh boi, what the hell did you do to make Claire this mad at you. And on the first day? Tragic.

Along with that we'll be getting into a few things before finally ending episode 1:

Reworked the gender system of the counselors. Now you can choose from the beginning how you want them to be.

Added the choice to be non-binary (a new batch of campers, hooyay!). Also need to add onto scenes with Asher, Claire, and Lucas.

Meeting the final two counselors (Ruby and Silas).

An added scene with E for returning MCs during your walk to the mess hall.

Going through orientation, including a fun scavenger hunt (Uncle Robert said it would be fun, don't believe him).

A small scene with your new roommates in your cabins.

I'm so excited just thinking about it, and I'm the one writing the dang story.

If you hadn't seen it yet, I answered an ask a little bit ago about doing visuals for the blog. I'm not the best at visual media (that's more my mother's thing) but I can use a character maker like a mf if I have too.

It was kinda nice, a little limiting, but it was surprisingly helpful for me to have it. I've thought about how these characters look for so long it's strange to suddenly see them brought to life in any type of way except text. The character bios have been updated with these pictures now.

(UPDATE: LITERALLY MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DECISION: SLEEP DEPRIVED AF BEHAVIOR)

So, I wrote this update yeaterday and was planning for it to just post through queue like I normally do, but the situation has changed. The demo will be updated again, however the stopping point is literally the same. The only major changes are the gender system, adding being non-binary, and having everything on one file (pray for me). The stopping point is still the same.

All in all the word count is now at this point: 57k (W/O Code), 14K (average). Not a huge jump average wise, but I'm happy anyway.

Link to demo here.

(END OF EMERGENCY UPDATE)

That's all I wanted to talk about for now, if you run into any bugs just let me know and I'll fix it lickity split.

See you all on the next update!

P.S. - I love it when new people follow and only like the posts of certain counselors. I know who you're into now ;).

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

The 1950s

1950s were a big turnover like many other decades before and after and continue to be so. Such as one is over the top., gracious big bold, logos, intensity, blunt, colourful, and brassy almost, when you think of this most of us of our generation would think of the 2000s and the 210s and the shift of the two this 10 period cycle, well actually it’s a 20 year cycle if you really think about it coming in and out of fashion maybe 15 at the most, so you’ve got the 1940s where the war is still going up until 45 where is the, black-and-white even in the movie signals this?, we were invented somehow that had the money to, people like Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Hollywood and these times does this to these women? It mainly does it to the women it torment them torches them it will give them somebody who is their double., they understudy but tell them how amazing that other person is and that they wouldn’t reject these kind of office so why are you when they are deep into their career and they have given us everything of themselves? They are about down to bound to be a tad bit angry and the funny, narcissism does this to us? It thinks oh it won’t be me. I’ll never feel that way about somebody before me such as Marilyn Monroe probably never thinking she would feel like Joanne Crawford did about her who were up and coming., as a woman, you must be dignified but not too dignified to the point of you coming across arrogant, you must be flirty but never a slut, you must have virgin like quality but don’t be too virginal, age gracefully but don’t be ugly, why don’t you lose a few pounds but don’t get too skinny.

All these things are absolute recipe for disaster, and monsters the real monsters of the people behind these acts of making people feel this way the talent agents the executives, the managers the people who these companies the nepotism, allot it .

The difference in these decades like the 80s and the 90s grunge versus hair metal heroine versus cocaine, two different kinds of things in all of these things I’ve listed above so what are we due for next to me?, the 210s were rather over the top but also subtle so when it comes to our next decade that’s coming up with making it subtle bit again, so these women are men the men had it in the way the homosexual ones anyway they weren’t allowed to be open with their sex, point where they would make these men marry women while they had a life on the side which couldn’t be publicised which couldn’t be shown, I even said to my boyfriend if we break up, I want to marry a gay man, the way gay men treat women, and I hate to make sweeping statements and I seem to a lot. I seem to write like that energies sometimes.

But I love the beauty of sees a woman and her straight man never could. , this decade of the 50s bought us the Marilyn Monroe of her absolute peak, her beautiful presence versatile and face, even though she was even one he got bullied by Louis Mayer, the company, to the point I think he even called her his little chinless wonder, bullying tactics, it worked in the 2000s with Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, where do they stay? These women go back, they’ve made up a bit now because they’re both mothers, I dread to imagine what kind of mother might be with her addiction issues sorry I’m an addict myself and it worries mate maybe it was a blessing, disguise have children?, like not to be able to have children it’s horrible. Your life ends up becoming an addiction disaster if you’re not stable enough.m and men who don’t treat you right, children are a blessing and if you have them count yourself lucky every day, do I think abortions bad, I don’t if you’re not in the right place to have a child then you shouldn’t.

This is comparing all the decades having very similar ways and if you look at it, you’ll see,. one thing I didn’t like was Jane Mansfield think the woman had much class, especially when it came to Monroe she played into the image of being exactly like her, to me it’s a shame they didn’t play into her being probably mixed cause I think she is. and by no means do I mean blackface but make them more darker? Dark hair? Lipstick et cetera, but they had to do a copy of, king size Monroe call her, and she was she lived, Monroe hated it and if you can see some of these pictures she copied it, was is Mansfield love being Monroe as Monro didn’t.

[dustedmagazine]

Guided By Voices — Strut of Kings (GBV Inc.)

Photo by Ellen Qbertplaya

In an interview following the announcement of the new Guided By Voices record, Strut of Kings, Robert Pollard explained why it would, uncharacteristically, be the group’s only release this year: “I just wanted to give this one a little more time to sink in with the fans. Give them some breathing space.” Take Pollard at his word: Strut of Kings is worth the focus and, speaking of space, it’ll take up as much as your speakers allow.

Back in 2018, I wrote that Space Gun (also that year’s only GBV album) was “a protein-rich re-entry point from which to backtrack through the post-millennium catalog…with triumphant blends of sweeping rhythm guitar, ascending lead riffs and rolling rhythm sections.” Six years and 13 albums later, I’ll say the same of Strut of Kings, only more so. As on Space Gun, Pollard is backed by Bobby Bare Jr., Doug Gillard, Mark Shue, and Kevin March, but here they play with a stormier ambition that adds an extra potency to the songs. This isn’t angry music, exactly, but it is noticeably heavier and sounds off with a harder-rocking urgency.

On the edgier end of things come ornery, ear-ringing slugfests like “Olympus Cock In Radiana” and “Cavemen Running Naked.” The first of which heaves around thick, fuzzy guitar arpeggios over a dogged stomp with the bare menace of early Black Sabbath. The second evokes both Queens of the Stone Age with its brute force drumming and taut, meaty riffs and Thin Lizzy with its buzzy, glamorous bursts of guitar. Sequenced between those two and yet darker is “Leaving Umbrella.” The track, slow, sheer and draped with cymbal crashes and sliding walls of distortion, finds Pollard wallowing in a psychedelic, fantastical fog, like a long lost David Bowie album for Southern Lord.

Ill-tempered bangers aside, Strut of Kings is, like so much of Pollard’s vast catalog, at its best in rich, punchy, power pop mode. One of Pollard’s great strengths as a vocalist is delivering even his hardest-to-parse lines with the conviction of confessional poetry. As the sparkling strum and thrust of “Fictional Environment Dream” is lifted by sustained electronic keys, “trying to sell me/on such same primitive tools/programming fever dreams/with the fools/let them expel me” might as well be Matthew Sweet lamenting “I’m sick of myself when I look at you.” It’s one of several moments when the musical ambition and vigor of this album crosses into more radiant, but no less powerful territory. Take, for instance, the long, elegiac build of “Bit Of A Crunch,” from clean, picked guitar to a robust, sunbreak-after-rain stadium balladry close to Oasis’ ragged, golden “Don’t Go Away.” Perhaps the record’s most potent blend of beauty and brawn, however, is “Serene King.” At the bridge, while Pollard raps towards his jet plane takeoff on the final refrain, a rapid series of single guitar notes shoot up from the bullying rumble of bass, drums and blasting, third-rail rhythm chords, taking the song from fist-pumping to something like transcendent.

Chalk it up to the explosive instrumentals, but the lyrics, often the most beguiling aspect of a Guided By Voices record, aren’t the most memorable part of Strut of Kings. One verse, though, from the album closer “Bicycle Garden,” stands out: “Though all the roses are dying/the old nest climbing with ivy/is lively.” What better way to describe Pollard’s indefatigable musical career than in terms of voracious regeneration. With this latest liveliness, Pollard and company continue that relentless growth. And remember, they’re leaving the breathing space for you: no one said they needed it.

Alex Johnson

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Dark! Aemondx reader

Five elements part 2♡

Warnings: Not so feministic Aemond, abuse on the half blinded (Aemond) smut and kinks definitely some praise kink mc, they all need therapy, spankings and implied martial abuse. Non con kissing and willingly for other things. Incest as Aemond is sorttaa related to baratheon (is he? *music stops*) and incest and also dirty daydreaming and fantasying .

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @winxschester

Concept: Aemond comes wife hopping at Storm's end and you and your sisters are first getting tasted before he makes his choice. Very sub mc and dom aemond but also aemond with her sister's and mc watching.

Robert: I hate all Targaryens

Aemond:

Robert; he's cool tho

There is a brief moment before panic erupts under all of you. Your mother comes over as well, horror written across her face. 'Prince Aemond, I must insist that you behave yourself under our roof. These are my daughters, and your future wife is among them. You will not taste them, and you will most certainly not question their innocence.' Your mother wants to do even more like smack his head against a wall and yell at the prince, but your father calls her back, horrified and embarrassed. 

You realize your mother is about to be punished. He has not done that in years. The last time was during a supper. He grabbed and dragged her away to their bedchamber. You heard about what husbands do with their wives when they are disobedient. 'Elenda, get here.' He does not even yell. Your mother freezes up at his strict voice.

Aemond's lips smack, in amusement and cruel sadism. He is like a little boy who gets told by his father that he is right to bully his siblings. 'Seems like you got yourself into some trouble, my lady.' He mocks her openly. 'Do not worry about your girls. They are in good hands. ' He says with a cold smirk. Your father drags your mother away.

The prince walks over to the throne not long before sitting down on it. One of the guards, you know him as Edan Stone, is brave enough to confront him. ‘My prince, that seat is not yours.’

The only sound the Targaryen prince makes is a soft chuckle. ‘You must not be aware of how politics work. Well, what do I expect from a mere soldier? You never had a proper education. You would not dare even question my motives if you did.’’ His voice is much sharper and becomes louder with every passing word. Ellyn reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly when softly muttering that she would like to go to her rooms again. You agree. Everything is better than enduring this. 'now leave us all.' The guards leave the room.

The prince cocks his head at her, noticing her tears and her trembling hands. He has the smile of a wolf who sees a deliciously easy lamb to rip apart. ‘You, get here.’ He is not just calling her over, he is commanding her. Maris shakes her head at Ellyn but Ellyn does not have her courage. She slowly makes her way to Aemond.

You can see the jealousy in Floris’s eyes grow, just as her smirk as she thinks of a clever little plot. You and Maris share a glance and seem to think the same. ‘Princess Rhaenyra was allowed to sit in that chair, when she had her suitors come over. I am sure that father would not mind sharing his seat with his future son in law.’ Floris speaks, quickly interrupting Aemond and trying to steal away the attention from her sister. Aemond sinks back in the chair, resting his arms on the armrests. He forces his head against the back of the chair and gestures for Ellyn to come closer.

She hesitates. He chuckles before getting up. ‘I do not think I have ever been denied before by any woman.’ He ignores Floris and by his smirk you can tell its on purpose. He grabs Ellyn by her waist, ignoring her protests and whimpers when he is a bit too rough. He forces her head closer to his own and kisses her on her lips. She tries to break free desperately as if she is a bird in the mouth of a cat. You watch, frozen when your sisters are fed up with Aemond. Ellyn catches her breath and he uses that opportunity to force his tongue in her mouth. He grabs her chin and holds her during the kiss, so she has no chance of escaping.

Once he is finished, he drops her as if she is nothing, moving on to his next target. It is quite amusing watching him count you and your sister and realizing that one is missing. It is even more amusing when he realizes someone has snuck behind him, and you are laughing when Maris smacks him across his arrogant face, leaving a good red mark.

Ellyn uses this to escape and rushes to your side across the room, before crying out in your arms. She probably imagined her first kiss differently.

Cass takes the pitcher from the servant and fills her cup before raising it to Maris. Floris looks horrified and tries to earn his love by rushing to his side and offering her help and support. You are the only one staying far away. ‘Get off of me, wench.’ He groans at Floris as she touches his face. She obeys him, shocked that she is for once not the thing everyone wants.

‘You,’ he sounds even more hateful than before. Maris makes a curtsy and lowers her eyes but they are twinkling with mischief. You release a laugh. The prince’s head briefly snaps towards you before glaring at you. You stop laughing. Cass stops drinking and watches the exchange between the two of them, worried. 

Maris and your sisters enjoy this victory and his shame and humiliation of being beaten by a girl for a brief moment. Then, you all regret it. He grabs Maris by her throat, squeezing it so harshly you can see his fingerprints on it. He grins, laughing as if he has gone insane. ‘Apparently you are a bit jealous. Do not worry, you are next.’ He groans in her face, dragging her to the throne. 

‘You are an insolent stupid, ignorant, dumb little-’ He scolds when sitting down and taking her on his lap. You never saw anything like that before and have trouble looking away. You watch as his hands go over her neck, to her back, and to her behind...

Ellyn clutches to Cass’s side. ‘What will he do with her? We need to get father. He will stop this madness.’ You doubt it. 

You hear Maris cry out and realise that Aemond has hit her. 'You can't hit a lady!' Your sister Cass roars angry. 'You are a despicable little beast.'

The prince scoffs unbothered and even smiles when Maris whimpers terrified of him. 'But I can spank her. This is nothing unusual for a wife and her husband.' You know what that word means from a few books Cassandra reads sometimes and watch as your sister lies over his legs getting punished by the prince. She keeps quiet mostly and he hates it. He does everything in his power to make her scream, cry or to even beg him.

The way he hits her looks so painful. You can almost feel his hands on your flesh hitting you. You see her ashamed cheeks turn red and watch as she tries to fight but eventually accepts her punishment. Aemond has not stripped her, as he is not her lord husband yet. He has no right, yet.

When Maris is properly tamed and done for She is lifted. He grabs her by her throat as a warning and feels her breasts with his hands. You watch fascinated and worried as he smashes his lips on her own kissing her. Maris moans and feels his knees where she was laying moments earlier. You feel a strange thirst. You feel yourself become breathless.

The prince sends her away.

'Anyone else who needs to be taught a lesson?' He eyes you and your sisters, eager to punish whoever might defy.

You bite your lip and raise your chin; making direct eye contact with the prince. He grins and raises a brow at you before patting his knee, inviting you over. You quickly blush and back away, hiding from him. He chuckles.

You quickly glance back at your feet. That was poor timing on your behalf. You scold yourself in your head. Your other sister, meanwhile, sits the throne. Floris slowly takes off her dress, revealing her breasts. Aemond seems interested and comes over. He grabs her and forces her to stand. She kisses him desperate like lovers do.

Floris subtly drops her gown a bit, showing more of her breasts. Aemond grins before touching her nippels and biting her neck as if he is an animal. You watch as the two of them kiss each other passionately. Aemond slams her against the throne and spreads her legs...

Your mouth turns dry as his hands vanish under her skirts touching her. She lets out cries of pleasure. You wonder how he is touching her. How is making her feel that good. If he can make you, feel that good.

Someone squeezes you, and you are startled. Cass glares at you. 'Bentha,' She whispers furiously. 'You are watching.'

Your voice cracks and you are in need of a drink.

'I never saw any man-' you try to defend yourself.

Cass sighs. 'I will get you a man, but not him. He will destroy you.' You hear a voice whisper that no man will do that with you what he does.

Floris cries out, and you watch her closely studying her. 'What is happening to her?' Ellyn asks, worried for Floris's safety.

'She has just finished.' Maris responds drly. Ellyn blinks.

Ellyn blushes, hoping she midunderstands it all. 'With what exactly?' You all groan.

The prince sighs and grins as Floris puts her dress back on. He walks back to you all. You watch as he dryly wipes off his fingers on a towel. 'You girls are tameable, it seems.' He makes you all sound like disobedient women.

He counts you all again shoving some of you aside. 'I already kissed you, you and now you...'

You and Cass remain.

'Leaving you two.' He says joyfully. Cassandra sighs before accepting that she is next. She grabs his face gently and kisses his lips before he can even understand what is happening. She also uses her tongue like he did on Ellyn. She grins when he is absolutely shocked and wordless by her bold display.

'That was everyone.' She joyfully says. 'You did it.' She is saving you from him.

Aemond seems that confused that he does not realise that mistake.

'No; Bentha remains.' Floris suddenly rings out joining you.

You feel yourself shake. You gulp.

The prince grabs you by your hips dragging you closer to him. You feel his hot breath on your lips and feel yourself fall. 'You're mine, little stag.'

You gulp. 'Let her be, Aemond. She is the youngest. She has no interest in you.' Maris tries to intervene. It's useless.

Floris growls. 'It's a kiss.' Aemond brings you back to the throne.

You are pushed on his lap, forced to sit. You feel his warmth and sweat unintended. You never were so close to any man.

'I am not sure that is entirely true.' He says once you are sitting. You feel him touch your legs gently. You think of him parting them and feeling you like he did with Floris. What is wrong with you? He hurt your servants.

'Shall we kiss?'

'I want to have a chat with you first.' He saw you. He saw you watch. You blush. 'Yes, I saw you peek when I finished your little sister off. When she came on my lap. I also saw you gawk when I spanked your sister and forced my tongue in your other sister's throat.' He describes it.

'I was worried for their safety-' he laughs.

'I gave all your siblings a little lesson. Ellyn learned how to kiss, Maris learned the value of spankings, Floris learned how to come, and Cassandra learned how to seduce. What do you hope I teach you, little stag?' You are surprised that he even knows your names and who is who. Some servants take years.

He kisses your neck, and you gasp.

'They didn't like their lessons.' You say nervously.

'You are different. I bet you'd be the most wonderful student. So obedient to please your teacher.' Your body reacts so unpleasantly. You are wet.

'I need-' you need to get away from him. Now.

He grins. 'No, little stag. I am not quite finished.'

'Please-' you beg getting up.

'No, I said.' He says strictly and gives you a light smack on your behind. It is not enough force but it turns you on so quickly. You moan even. You blush mortified and ashamed. You definitely liked that. Wether you knew it prior or not. You whimper. You hear him chuckle. 'I will teach you.'

'I will teach you what it means to be a woman.' You watch in horror as he shoves a small silver ring around your finger before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. 'Tell Lord Borros I claimed his youngest.' He tells the other girls before carrying you off. 'O, and don't come knocking any time soon.'

/a/n

IF THE DRAGON IS ROCKING DONT COME KNOCKING.

[redrikki]

A Song of Ice & Fire Masterpost

The Return - Robb sends Theon home to Pyke. If you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention. (Asha Greyjoy, Balon Greyjoy)

The Headsman - When the order came, Ned sent two men to seize and bind Theon Greyjoy and another to prepare the block. The gods would know Balon Greyjoy for a kinslayer, but it would be Ned Stark swinging the sword so what did that make him? (Ned Stark, Catelyn Stark, Theon Greyjoy)

Hey, Brother - “My sons will be your new brothers,” Lord Stark promised Theon, but it was a bit more complicated than that. (Theon Greyjoy, Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow)

Every Captain a King - Young Theon Greyjoy is made a hostage of Dragonstone. When Davos Seaworth finds him crying behind the water casks, he can’t resist playing the father. (Davos Seaworth, Theon Greyjoy)

Somewhere in the Dark -The night after witnessing his first execution, a nightmare drives Robb from his bed. Somewhere in the dark, he stumbles across Theon. (Theon Greyjoy, Robb Stark)

Empty Promises, Empty Threats - “Far be it from me to question to wisdom of your lady mother,“ Theon said, “but maybe sending the man who killed my brother to treat with my father is not the best idea.” Robb sends a different envoy to the Iron Islands. He and Theon live with the consequences. (Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy)

Grin and Bear It - Theon attends the tourney at Lannisport following his father’s war. King Robert rubs his hair for luck as he heads to the lists. Theon hopes he dies. He hopes they all do. (Theon Greyjoy, Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon)

Strange Children in Our Bed - It had been seven long months since Catelyn’s husband had been home and in her bed. Theon Greyjoy was the only thing spoiling their reunion. (Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Theon Greyjoy)

The Boy in the Garden - Alayne finds a strange boy crying along in the heart of the the Eyrie’s garden. There are no gods in the godswood. Just Ned. (Sansa Stark, Ned Stark)

The Heir - After the war and the loss of their sons, Balon demands she give him a new heir. Alannys is determined to thwart him at every turn. (Alannys Greyjoy/Balon Greyjoy, Asha Greyjoy)

The Knife - The wounds on Lady Catelyn’s hands turn sour, so Theon Greyjoy takes the assassin’s knife to King’s Landing instead. Theon’s main skill has always been complicating other people’s narratives. WIP (Theon Greyjoy, Ned Stark)

Second Verse - Theon Greyjoy leaps from Winterfell’s walls and ends up in his past. Can he save the Starks from themselves? More importantly, does he even want to? (Theon Greyjoy, Jory Cassel, Jeyne Poole, Mance Rayder, Bran Stark, Robb Stark)

Little Bit Louder, Little Bit Worse - In a world where the War of the Five Kings goes very differently, Asha Greyjoy sails north to retrieve her brother. Sequel to Second Verse where a time traveling Theon Greyjoy has made some changes, not all of them for the better. (Asha Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy, Robb Stark)

Skinchangers: A Definitive History - Selected experts from the book Skinchangers: A Definitive History by Maester Germ, being the definitive work on the nature of the art and its role in the history of Westeros from the Dawn Age through the Age of Exploration.

Words Are Wind - Fills from the 3 Sentence Ficathon

1) Theon comes back wrong 2) Jeyne will never forget her name 3) Catelyn on Ned’s unfortunate habit of child acquisition 4) Theon vs. specimen jars 5) Jeyne can’t quite forgive 6) Jeyne and the power of naming

A Meta of Ice and Fire -

Chapter 1) Why Ned would have executed Theon Chapter 2) If canon Theon didn’t bully Jon, why is it so popular in fic? Chapter 3) Westerosi and Medieval European Hostages: A Comparison Chapter 4) Comparing Robb’s book & show love interests Chapter 5) Overthinking the Common Tongue of Westeros Chapter 6) Robb as the anti-Ned Chapter 7) Comparing Viking and Ironborn thralls Chapter 8) Making sense of the Greyjoy Rebellion

[sideprince]

Sometimes I wish we had seen the rest of SWM. We know the Marauders were bullies who targeted Snape more often than anyone else. We're given the impression Snape wasn't popular and that the people nearby came to watch him be bullied and seemed amused. Was there a moment, though, maybe, when they stopped being amused?

That maybe it was funny to them to see an unpopular kid hanging there with his underwear exposed, but when James removed them, it stopped being funny? I keep thinking of the scene in GoF at the Quidditch World Cup where the muggle family are being treated the same way, how some of the wizards in the crowd were laughing and pointing up at them, but then Mrs. Roberts is flipped upside down and she struggles to lift her dress back up because underwear is exposed. That's the point when Ron says, "that's sick... that is really sick."

I like to think there was a moment when James took off Snape's pants that the crowd stopped being amused and started feeling uncomfortable. Maybe quiet settled on the onlookers as they realized wait, hang on, they don't want to see this, it's invasive, it's going too far. For years the Marauders had bullied Snape and no one cared, but they had bullied everyone else too. We know this from the stack of old disciplinary cards Harry has to sort for detention. How many people in that crowd were bullied by them, or had a friend who was? Would they, in that moment, have thought "this could be me"? Would they have simply just thought, "oh this isn't funny anymore this is just sad and upsetting"?

I like to think that when James finished and let Snape back down, it was because the crowd had gone tense and quiet and he felt people staring at him and the ego boost had been cut off and he felt the pressure of feeling disliked all of the sudden. Snape wouldn't have noticed, the humiliation would have stung too much and he would have been in survival mode just trying to get the hell out of there. But I like to think James felt that he had gone too far and word of the incident spread. That, after that day, he was less popular. That he had to endure people muttering about him for days. Maybe overhearing people in the halls saying things like, "sure he can play quidditch, and who doesn't like a bit of bullying here in this magical equivalent of a British grammar school in the 70s, but that was fucked up" and "I heard everyone got really quiet and even when they were telling him to stop he just kept laughing like a psychopath."

Most of the students would have gotten over it. James would still have been wealthy, sporty, and a good student. But he would never have gotten the respect back. Maybe the other students were more just polite to him after that, than friendly the way they had been before. Maybe they were more nervous around him. Because maybe, just maybe, before all this they would think, "if James Potter or his friends inflate your head, just laugh it off, be in on the joke, and they won't have a go at you again, just pretend you're fine with it and it's all good fun." But now they would smile and have somewhere else to be, because who knows when James Potter and his friends will get carried away and you're the one who's helpless, vulnerable, and publicly shamed?

I like to think that, for the rest of their lives, the onlookers in SWM carried with them the memory of how Snape looked in that moment and how horrible it made them feel. That maybe some of them taught their children not to bully because of it. That it left a mark in them and made them more empathetic. That some of them sent their own children off to Hogwarts making sure they knew to respect Professor Snape.