#i can't believe i never thought about the fact that she never had any sort of love interest in the slightest whatsoever

[britneyshakespeare]

was anyone going to tell me that deandra from the most popular girls in school is canonically an aroace icon

[vidavalor]

Ok fine, I brought milk and chocolate chip cookies this time 🥛 🍪 and also some eggs from my lovely chickens! 🐓 🥚

I hope you accept this apology, and I’ll try my best to behave 😜

So, I wonder how you interpret 1.03 where, just before the flood, one of the unicorns makes a run for it and Crawley says ‘you still got one of them’? Some people seem to believe this means she didn’t understand the process of procreation (at the time). Do you have any thoughts on that?

Please don't behave. Why would you want to do that? Would make this all very boring lol. 😂 Thank you for the very fun ask. I love this question.💕

I think the scene you're talking about is more than a funny aside about whether or not Crowley had finished reading Demon's Guide to Reproduction of Beings on Earth yet... and that might not be the question the scene is really asking. I think it also has a ton to do with the Final Fifteen of 2.06, too, so *slices pie* let's get into the unicorns and the professional midwife/cobbler and what, imo, these two moments have to do with one another:

In S1, in the scene set just before the beginning of The Flood, we have two questions emerge from Crowley's dialogue, both of which are then picked up again in S2. One is what Crowley meant by "kids" when he said "you can't kill kids" after looking at a group containing both small goats and children. The second question is the one you're talking about, which is whether or not he understood at the time how human reproduction works. The question is born out of the fact that, on the surface, he might appear to not exactly be grasping the concept of Noah's Ark when he says that Shem's "still got one of them" after one of the pair of unicorns takes off and doesn't get on the boat. Both things show back up together again in S2 in the Job minisode and that sort of continuation of story, in a way, might suggest that there's going to be a third layer to this that emerges in S3 as well. I think, though, that we might have enough to look at some potential answers already.

While the "kids" bit is, essentially, answered and was always more of a language joke anyway-- Crowley wishes to kill no kids, be them goats or humans-- the fact that this question returned in S2 and was tied once again with a plot centered around sex and reproduction shows that the questions raised in The Flood scene in S1 are interrelated and pretty important overall. The entire Job plot ultimately comes down to who knows what about human reproduction. Saving the kids comes down to fooling Gabriel and fooling Gabriel can only be done because Gabriel, at least at the time, did not have the first clue how human reproduction normally works. He had only seen this one, initial, very atypical version of it that has basically never happened since and because he didn't spend time on Earth at that point in the story, he didn't know he had it all wrong. This whole story is built around what someone's understanding of reproduction of another species is and it isn't Crowley who doesn't know how it all works by 2500 B.C., it's Gabriel. But what does this have to do with The Flood and Crowley and the unicorns?

In the Job minisode, we are told that Gabriel was in The Garden at the start of it and witnessed Eve's birth from Adam's rib. We find this hilarious because we know that this isn't how sex works and this time, in this scene, Crowley is more than in on the joke with us. What makes the scene funny is actually Crowley's knowledge in it of how human sex and reproduction work. Unlike Gabriel, he wasn't there for Eve's super-weird birth and so he's visibly trying not to be like what the actual fuck? this is how Eve was made? at Aziraphale as Aziraphale's gestures lead Crowley to telling Sitis to pull out one of Job's ribs-- absolutely not a feature of any sex Crowley has ever had or seen. Aziraphale then is flirting with a Crowley who totally gets the joke when Sitis pulls the ox ribs "out" of Job. It's very evident between this scene and the prior night in the cellar that, circa 2500 B.C. at least, Crowley absolutely knew how human sex and reproduction worked.

The key bit here to understanding what Crowley was saying about the unicorns back during The Flood is actually in the reminder in the Job minisode about The Garden that the minisode gives us through making the plot equally about what Gabriel saw in The Garden-- Eve's weird conception and birth-- but also about what Gabriel didn't see-- Adam and Eve have more human-typical sex-- which is something that Crowley set into motion and then something that he and Aziraphale both witnessed.

By bringing up how Gabriel doesn't know what human sex and reproduction normally look like because of what he saw (and missed) in The Garden of Eden, the show is also reminding us that, after Gabriel left, Crowley was sent up into The Garden and tempted Eve into eating the apple. Eve then shared the apple with Adam. Adam and Eve figured out sex not long after that, during a period of time in which both Aziraphale and Crowley were also in The Garden and Eve's pregnancy was one of Aziraphale's motivations for giving them his flaming sword.

Mah point is that Crowley absolutely knew about sex and sexual reproduction during The Flood because Crowley and Aziraphale essentially watched the first humans have sex on Earth in The Garden of Eden.

The show also has about a half-dozen jokes about Anthony J. "Can I watchchch?" Crowley's voyeuristic tendencies and roots some of it to the fact that he's the Serpent of Eden and gets off on watching his temptation labors bear fruit. (It's been a long day. I have earned that joke😂). Ya know, such as:

This whole unicorn and sex thing is also part of the Job minisode by way of the ox ribs, further making it all kind of part of the same story. The inclusion of unicorns in ancient history in GO feels like a nod to the re'em, an animal mentioned a few times in The Bible (including in The Book of Job), which has been frequently translated as "unicorn" and is part of the origin for from where our idea of unicorns comes in the first place. The same word has been translated as meaning other animals-- among them? The wild ox.

Making things even more interesting is unicorn lore. The unicorn was said to be a wild, secretive creature who lived in the forest and who could only ever be captured and tamed by a virgin maiden. Aziraphale, in 2500 B.C., is shown to not eat or drink before the night in the cellar began so odds are also good on the food-and-alcohol = sex show that Aziraphale definitely qualified as a virgin maiden when he went to absolute town on those ox ribs. Anyway...

...what I'm saying here is that it feels extremely unlikely that, by the time of The Flood in 3,004 B.C., that Crowley didn't know how human sex and reproduction worked when he saw it play out in The Garden. Other than Eve's speedy stages of pregnancy meant to get the ball rolling on humanity, Adam and Eve's sex was typical of humans. So, Crowley knew about sex and sexual reproduction when he made the comment about the unicorns... but then how does that make sense, right?

In order to think that Crowley didn't know how reproduction works during The Flood scene we've seen, you would have to assume two things are true: 1) that unicorns reproduce via sexual reproduction and 2) that unicorns went extinct as a result of one of them making a run for it and not making it onto Noah's Ark, right?

The thing is... the show might be subtly trying to show that unicorns do still exist in GO. But before you say 'but, Vida, seriously?! We've never seen an unicorn after The Flood!', I'm going to argue that maybe we actually have one as a major supporting character and this S2 scene might be hinting in that direction:

The parallel to the "Oi, Shem!" scene is Nina-as-Crowley telling Aziraphale-as-Shem that that unicorn (The Bentley) is running of its own accord. Unicorns are magical beings. How magical beings present, as God pointed out in S1, is up to them. Human forms are just one option, right? I don't know exactly where this is going but this bit in S2 was a direct tie to The Flood's unicorn moment and it would explain a thing or two about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang if it were somehow tied to the unicorns. Can Crowley actually make them, the way Beez can make flies? Can Aziraphale? We really have no idea how the unicorn thing works in GO so we can't really use it as an example that Crowley didn't know about sex when it's more that we don't know about unicorns...

The unicorn that we saw during The Flood tracked with what we think of as the mythical being of an unicorn in our real world so we could make the assumption that some of the same aspects of them are/were true in GO. Unicorns are magical horse/donkey-like beings (which couldn't possibly be more Crowley and Aziraphale if it tried.) They are few and far between, are hard to spot and mostly keep to themselves. Human beings have no real actual proof that they ever existed in the first place and generally consider them mythical beings but Good Omens shows us that they at least did exist in GO ancient times-- and might still. In modern times, unicorns have become a LGBTQIA+ symbol and, for that reason and that reason alone, it seems unlikely that they actually went extinct in the world of *Good Omens*...

So, let's presume that Crowley said the existence of unicorns would continue even if Shem only had one of them on Noah's Ark because he knows that unicorns are not like other beings on Earth. Think about what else Crowley is then saying here with this line to Shem:

Noah's Ark, to us, is a story about continuing the existence of life for beings on Earth, right? It's about pairs, about mates, for the purpose of continuing species on earth via sexual reproduction. That's why we consider what Crowley's saying in this moment of this scene through the lens of it being entirely about sexual reproduction. When it comes to the unicorns, though, you could argue that Crowley is not actually talking about reproduction but about romance. We don't actually know how unicorns work-- but Crowley does.

What Crowley is actually telling us in this scene is that paired unicorns can survive the death of one of them because they're a part of each other. What Crowley is actually saying is that the pair of mated unicorns in the scene are two beings who share a single existence.

You couldn't permanently kill one of a pair of unicorns without killing both of them. So long as one of them still exists, they both do.

One unicorn could make a run for it for any reason and bolt away from his mate and die in the storm but Crowley knew the bolting unicorn was a part of the one that Shem got on the boat and so could be brought back.

In S2, we see something like this with other magical beings-- Ineffable Bureaucracy.

Oi, Shem, that purple-eyed unicorn's gonna make a run for it...

It's too late, too late...

Oh, well, you've still got one of them...

The Fly is Gabriel and Beez together; it's their shared existence. Without it, Gabriel would not have survived. The one of them still left-- Beez-- is the one who can put it together and bring Gabriel back into a full existence.

Ineffable Bureaucracy are unicorns who parallel our main two, though, and Oi, Shem...

...that bow-tied unicorn's gonna make a run for it...

Oh, well, you've still got one of them...

[thewertsearch]

GC: YOU W3R3 STRUTT1NG 4ROUND 1N YOUR D3L1C1OUS K1W1 31GHT B4LL SU1T 4ND RUNN1NG YOUR FR3SH MOUTH 4S USU4L GC: durp yo terezi sup sup gotta beat john gotta beat john GC: hes got a long hood and he does wind, how can i get powers too? [....] GC: [...] 1M L1K3 D4V3 TH4TS GO1NG TO 1NVOLV3 F4C1NG YOUR OWN D34TH GC: 4ND 1M SORRY TO BR34K 1T TO YOU BUT 1 DONT TH1NK YOUR3 R34DY FOR TH4T

Well, at least she gave him fair warning.

Thanks to Vriska, John was able to achieve the god tiers without confronting his mortality. He didn't have to grapple with any of this, and it's possible that he was robbed of some character growth as a result.

That said, I still think Vriska did him a solid. It's just ironic that she thinks she's helping him develop as a hero, when she might be doing the exact opposite.

GC: BUT ONLY 1F YOU PROM1S3 TO TH3 3X4CT T3RMS OF MY 4RR4NG3M3NT, 1N ORD3R TO PROT3CT TH3 1NT3GR1TY OF TH3 T1M3L1N3 >:] TG: the arrangement being the coin flip thing TG: thank god we did that otherwise wed be screwed TG: i probably would have gone back in time and killed my own grandfather oh wait i never had one

lmao

I do wonder if Bro had an adopted family. We know Nanna and Grandpa's background, and Mom was probably the child that Skaianet were apparently raising in their laboratory. (Remember when I thought there was a secret clone of Rose down there?)

Bro, however, is an enigma, even among the Guardians. He has no known relationship with any of the other parents, but was definitely getting foreknowledge of Sburb from somewhere. I'm not even sure I want to know what sort of childhood produces Bro Strider.

GC: 1 TOLD YOU 1 W4S GO1NG TO FL1P 4 CO1N GC: 4ND B3FOR3 1 D1D, YOU H4D TO P1CK 4 S1D3 W1THOUT T3LL1NG M3 GC: GOOD H34DS OR B4D H34DS

Really, the coin is just a rhetorical device. Terezi doesn't need to flip a coin, or even have a coin, because the real flip is happening in Dave's head. His Mind, if you will.

This does raise a lot of questions, though. I hope there isn't a timeline for every conceivable decision you could make. We've sort of discussed the idea before, but I don't think I've really talked about the subtle horror of a multiverse that works that way.

I mean, if there's a timeline for every possible decision - if everyone is capable of making any choice, at any time - then John will randomly kill his friends, for no reason. There are millions of offshoots where he does this. WV will become a monarchist. Dave will take off his shades.

It goes deeper, too. You can't even meaningfully ask why Dave wears shades, because he doesn't. He's constantly taking them off, because it is possible for him to do so. And if there's a timeline where he never takes them off, it's only because that's a decision he could potentially make.

If timelines branch at every decision, with no restrictions, then every single person in the multiverse is constantly doing things that contradict the core of who they are. In fact, there is no core. Everyone is an indistinguishable robot, constantly making every possible decision, simply because they can.

Homestuck could work like this, but I prefer the Discworld interpretation - I think it's more consistent with the comic's themes of choice. In Night Watch, protagonist Vimes is confronted with this exact question, and we get this exchange:

“But sometimes you can’t help wondering: what would have happened if I’d done something different–” “Like when you killed your wife?” Sweeper was impressed at Vimes’s lack of reaction. “This is a test, right?” “You’re a quick study, Mister Vimes.” “But in some other universe, believe me, I hauled off and punched you one.” Again, Sweeper smiled the annoying little smile that suggested he didn’t believe him. “You haven’t killed your wife,” he said. “Anywhere. There is nowhere, however huge the multiverse is, where Sam Vimes as he is now has murdered Lady Sybil. But the theory is quite clear. It says that if anything could happen without breaking any physical laws, it must happen. But it hasn’t. And yet the “many universe” theory works. Without it, no one would ever be able to make a decision at all.” “So?” “So what people do matters!” said Sweeper. “People invent other laws. What they do is important!

In short, there are some things you would never do, physical laws be damned. It is inconceivable that Vimes would murder his wife, because his current personality is incompatible with that decision. It simply cannot be made to make sense, so it can't spawn a timeline.

Note that this is only true for Vimes 'as he is now'. His moral code doesn't necessarily apply to his alt-selves - or even his younger self, whose code hasn't solidified. Hell, half the book is about making sure Young Vimes develops that code in the first place. There could be an evil John Egbert, but our John can't just arbitrarily turn evil.

So that's how I think it works. There's a timeline for every decision that you'd choose to make, and that subset of decisions will change as you grow. Your development as a person shapes the multiverse, in a very literal way.

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 4

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Having the shittiest week of my life I think, school has never deicded to screw me as hard as it does now. Should I be doing this instead of studying/preparing for a really big test tomorrow? No, but I needed to get this out of my system before I start locking in. Sorry for not very good writing. Wanted to give reader a personality, so sorry if not too much of Arlecchino, and not a lot like yourself. I had fun writing reader at least. Series Masterlist Content warning: semi-graphic violence done on the reader, blood, swearing, y'all probably hate me for the ending

When you stepped on this path, you knew that you would be endangering your life, though you had justified the risks with your perfected revenge–even if it meant prancing on the road to hell. With acknowledgement of this indubitable fact, you persisted on, even though you knew next to nothing about this walk of life. You, engaging with the underground and the scum of the city, pretending to be one of them, to be able to walk among them?

You had gotten arrogant. Having a demon butler does that to you, apparently. 

You always were a good bluffer, a good poker face, a pretty liar. You were smart, knew how to spin a half-truth into a neatly arranged pile of bullshit with a bow on top. Yet you should have known that that would be your downfall. After all, when your life and revenue relied on your word one would think you knew better than to come a client, no?

Well, it was their fault for believing it. Why did you have to be the one to pay? 

You really hate the taste of iron in your mouth. You wipe the blood from the corner of your lips with your knuckle and stagger back a bit to stand up more right, clutching your bruised cheek in your hand. 

“Are you done running away?” One of the men that surrounds you asks.

“Why, you tired already?” You snark back with a sneer that promptly gains you a kick to your stomach, sending an ache to your stomach. Tumbling to the alley floor, you grit your teeth to repress any more noises of agony. 

Only you had to have summoned the slowest demon on Earth. Damn it, what was taking her so long? You should have taken her with you tonight. 

Your eyes skitter around for anything you could use, but it seems that all you're surrounded by is garbage until you catch the glint of something. 

“Keep mouthing off. You won't be able to do that for much longer. He wants us to bring you in mint condition, but as long as you can still talk, we can do whatever we want with you,” the same man that kicked you responded, crouching down right before your lying figure. A hand grips your strands, your scalp burning as he tugs your head up to his eye level. 

“Fucking bitch.” If she doesn't show up in two minutes, you swear to hell you will act more of a demon than she is the next time you see her. 

A palm slams against one side of your face, and an audible slap reverberates throughout the alley way. Your cheek stings and your ears ring from the whiplash. Tears nearly well up in the corner of your eyes. One of your hands rummage through the pieces of junk behind you, before finding and clasping around the neck of a glass bottle. 

“That's all it took to shut you up, huh?” the man smirked maliciously. He raises another hand to assault you before you swing your arm, bringing the bottle to the side of his head. The glass shatters upon impact and your assailant reels back. Unfortunately, as you attempt another swipe at him, a hard fist meets your cheek, and you're out in an instant. 

Your last thoughts are on how to reprimand a demon. 

The first thought when you wake up is that your neck hurts. Though you can't see–likely because of a blindfold–you feel that you're tied up to a chair with some sturdy rope, and there's a rag of some sort in your mouth, secured behind your head. 

And damn it, you can still taste the blood in your mouth. 

So you've been kidnapped. 

Despite the incessant attempts of steadying your breath, you can't seem to relax your drumming heart and the anxiety that pricks underneath your skin. You squirm in your binds, causing the chair you're seated on to make an awful screech when it moves. It pierces your ear drums, and an expletive is muffled by your gag. 

Your futile struggling gains the attraction of someone in the room and footsteps begin to approach until they stop right in front of you. There’s the shuffling of some clothes, as you feel fingers reach in front and take out the rag from your mouth. 

Beneath the fear, you can't help the seething, brimming fury that builds inside of you. You spit in whoever’s face that decides to touch you. You know you've hit your mark when profanities are thrown your way. A smug grin makes its way up your face, until it's slapped off your face, the whiplash causes your ears to ring and your head to be foggy.  

“Stupid woman. I'll make it simple for you. I know you know what we want.”

Collecting some courage and a bit of your sass as a shield, you take a deep breath. Remaining silent, you ponder which client this one was. Knitting your eyebrows in puzzlement, you ask audaciously, “Who are you again?”

“I'll give you one chance. Tell us, and we'll let you go.”

You couldn't help yourself and let out an amused chuckle, throwing your head back. Your giggle dies after a few seconds and you lazily tilt your head towards his direction.

“So you really think I'm that stupid?” You shot back with a cutting remark. “You're a shit liar. You didn’t even once consider letting me go. Why would you let go of a skilled information broker when you have her right here? I would have considered giving you the answer, but I changed my mind since you decided to lie in front of my face. Fucker.”

The speaker audibly grinded his teeth and before you can mentally brace for it, a hard force slams into your chest, and you swear you hear something crack at the impact. Agony blossoms from your sternum, and the faintest tears well up in the corner of your eyes. The hit is enough to make the chair tumble back, making your head bang painfully against the hard, cold floor. 

The male walks towards you and stops right next to your ear. Something cold and gunpowder-y smelling presses against your skull–a gun, you think. “Keep acting like a smartass and you won't live for much longer.”

As you're about to answer, you feel the temperature drop immediately, the room suddenly becoming chilly. You've never been more grateful for the frigidity–it was about time she showed up, stupid demon servant taking so long. “You should worry about your life first,” you merely suggested with the most diabolic of smiles. 

The familiar sound of stilettos click against the floor, becoming louder and louder as it nears, and her fury is eminent–almost exuding out of her like the stench of death that follows. 

“Where are my guards? What did you do to them?” The man demands, his voice cracking from the evident fright, as he steps back. A bang pierces through the room, gunshot after gunshot is shot, presumably at Arlecchino, until the gun starts clicking. He must have ran out of bullets. You're not particularly worried for your butler, in fact, depraved glee is the only thing that you feel. The smile doesn't stop stretching over your face. You really wish you could see the sight; that is, Arlecchino's unharmed form and the man's shocked face. 

Arlecchino's response almost makes you forgive her for being late instantly. “Where are they? Don't worry. You'll be with them soon enough.” 

For the briefest point of time, you felt a smidge of sympathy for your attacker. No amount of bullets can kill her. 

Bloodcurdling screams echo throughout the room, making you cringe– although you were glad that the man was suffering, the noise is horrendous and earsplitting. The distinct noise of flesh being ripped off and then a god awful sound of a crunch follows after, silencing the man once and for all. The intense stank of iron fills your nostrils. 

“I apologize for subjecting you to such repulsive cries, my Lady. I couldn't contain myself,” Arlecchino’s voice finally reaches out to you and her footsteps approach you. Firstly, the blindfold is pulled up, giving back your vision as you can finally see for a while. The first thing you're met with is your butler's face, who is unsurprisingly unmarred. However, there is a tight knit in her brows in her otherwise blank expression, a tension unseen before in the demon. 

Concern, you skeptically guess, forms on her face. It's foreign, perhaps the first time you've seen it before on her. Seeing something like that, you suddenly experience a sensation more unsavory tasting than the metallic tang of your blood. It's bitter, perhaps. An inexplicable unease bubbles within you, and your skin burns like a scorching torch grazing up your skin. Why does her expression generate this sort of reaction? 

"You're late," you manage out, swallowing thickly any previous unease, your tone expressing evident annoyance. She hums in response. Raising a clawed finger, she slices your bounds easily, freeing you.

“My apologies,” she says, and you note that she lacks the usual refinement in her words. “Finding you proved to be a bit difficult.” 

There's a brief pause and she helps you stand and you regard the room you're in. The pungent smell of iron fills the room, coming from beyond the doorway in which you can see some of the remnants of the bodies that Arlecchino killed. You direct your attention away from such a horrid sight. How she was able to cause this massacre without making any noise, you couldn't fathom. 

It's not the first time she's been the center of a slaughter. In a disturbing way, it's almost nostalgic, reminiscent of your first meeting with Arlecchino, when you've summoned her at your greatest time of need. Broken and desperate you were, you screamed out your final plea which no god acknowledged before she did. You were pleading to live. But now, just minutes before, you were practically taunting death. Have six months accompanying a demon changed you that much? 

A brief contact pulls you away from your thoughts when you feel something cold press against the corner of your lips. You flick your attention to Arlecchino as your heart leapt at the sudden movement. Her thumb wipes away the blood that seeps with a tender stroke. 

"You're hurt," the demon says almost matter-of-factly if it weren't for how curt it seemed–like there was an urgency with those two words. You repress the urge to question her odd behavior. 

“Incredible observation,” you sarcastically remark and you try to brush away her hand, except she grips your chin in between her fingers. Turning your head, before you could react, you feel something cold, yet soft press gently into your bruised cheek. It's a fleeting touch, but instantaneously, you feel heat blossom from the source of contact–incredibly hot, as if your skin is lit ablaze just from mere lips. Arlecchino pulls away quickly, and your fingers dab the tingling skin where she touched. You expect to feel the aching soreness, but instead, you feel nothing–as if the bruise was never there in the first place. 

“What did you do?” You ask in puzzlement. The butler's lip curls up into an amused smirk, most likely enjoying your confusion. 

“I healed you.” 

“I wasn't aware a demon had the ability to do that.” Let alone with that method, anyways…

“Just another ability of mine as a demon. You know…”

She extends one hand out, using her pointer finger to tilt your chin up, invoking you to gaze into her red-crossed irises. They flicker with a wanton desire when they find your eyes, and there's a deliberate sweep of her tongue over her red lips. Shivers run down your spine as she approaches closer, and her other arm circles your waist with the other hand flat against your lower back. She leans in until she's gazing directly down at you, hot air tickles your nose as she exhales. 

Your heart pounds in your ears, making every other sense of yours except touch fade. Your sensitivity to touch is heightened, making every small brush create goosebumps. Your lips part into a small gasp from her action. Why do you suddenly feel so inexplicably hot? 

“Your lips seem bruised as well.” 

She leans down to close the distance. Your heart races and races until you’re convinced it'll explode as she nears. At the last moment, you jerk your head away. 

“No. No, they're not,” you exhale out breathlessly in between pants. Your cheeks burn fiercely, hardly able to hear your own words from your thundering heartbeat in your ears. 

Arlecchino stiffens immediately, before leaning back. You're grateful for the added distance, feeling the abrupt weight on your shoulders lifted. You dare glance over her expression. Once more, you're met with another emotion you've never seen before on her. A subtle frown with pursed lips alongside the smallest narrowing of her brows tells the disappointment in her dark abysses. The blackened arms fall away from your body, and for the strangest reason, you want her touch to linger. 

The bitterness in your mouth returns. 

“Get me out of here, Arlecchino,” is all you can say. The demon stares at you for several moments, before closing her eyes and hardening her face, the confounding expression gone in an instant. Suddenly, she becomes familiar again. 

“As you wish, my Lady.” 

You think you prefer getting beaten the shit out of over the gnawing sensation in your chest. Your heart swells achingly. You can’t fathom why.  

[7-wonders]

what if jessamy lived and matthew was brought in by lucienne as extra help and matthew gets a little crush on jessamy and you notice how matthew seems to be strutting around a lot, his feathers are shiny and he always puffs out his little birdy chest when ever jessamy calls him handsome and theres something that seems familiar but you can't quite place it

until you call morpheus gorgeous when you see him in a new outfit and he somehow seems a little taller, his hair is extra fluffy and he has whatever the dream lords equivalent of a spring in his step is

When Morpheus finally freed himself from his captivity, Lucienne had been faced with a decision to make. Her Lord was determined to find his missing tools immediately, never mind the fact that he was still weak and without any sort of help. While she couldn't do anything about the first part, she could certainly assist with the second. Though Morpheus didn't approve (he was still traumatized by the death of Jessamy, but he would never admit it to anybody, least of all himself), he begrudgingly allowed this new raven, Matthew, to travel with him to Hell.

Imagine their surprise when Lucifer revealed they had taken Jessamy's soul for their own in the hopes that they could use it as a bargaining chip with the Lord of Dreams. This was unacceptable, and so a wager had been made. If Morpheus won The Oldest Game, he got his helm...and Jessamy. If Morpheus lost, then the demon Choronzon got...him.

Thankfully, the former had been the outcome, and Morpheus left Hell with his helm and one more raven than he entered with. But to say there had been some growing pains as the two Ravens of the Dreaming adjusted to both being the Ravens of the Dreaming would be a gross understatement.

That was then though, and this is now. By the time you came into the picture, there were hardly any signs at all that there had been animosity between Matthew and Jessamy. They worked together in harmony now, the perfect team. One could even call them friends...even if Matthew maybe had feelings that were a little more than friendly.

You're in the library with your two feathered friends when Jessamy's head perks up, an obvious sign that Morpheus is summoning her via the mental link he has with his ravens.

"That's me, then." She sighs as though it's a chore to have to go attend to Morpheus, but you know how much she enjoys it. How much she enjoys every moment of her second (third, really) chance at life.

"Official raven business?" you ask.

"The most official." She stands and shakes her feathers out, but stops before taking flight. "Matthew?"

He looks at her in surprise. "Yeah?"

"Your feathers look nice today."

"Oh! I—uh, I flew through a waterfall this morning because I wanted to try something new. Wasn't sure if it would work out."

"It certainly did."

Matthew tries to stutter out an answer. You can hear Jessamy laugh as she swoops off to catch up to Morpheus. If Matthew could blush, you're sure he would be.

He's still staring after her minutes after she's gone, and you can't help your amused smile. "You okay?"

"Absolutely." He nods, his chest puffed out in pride. You stifle a laugh and replace it with a hum, pulling your book up past your face so he can't see just how well you believe him.

These instances, of Jessamy playfully flirting with a head over heels Matthew, are not rare. She enjoys doing it, and who knows? Maybe she feels the same. Their routine is rather sweet, actually, but you can't help the weird sense of deja vu you get when you watch those two dance around each other. You've seen this act before, but where?

The next time you and Jessamy are together, you're both in a position that you did not ever think you'd find yourself in: watching Dream of the Endless play fashion show.

Normally, Morpheus just conjures up whatever look that he wants without a second thought. He can change his appearance at a whim, even though he prefers sticking to his familiar, all-black wardrobe. But this week, he's hosting his siblings. All of them, save his wayward brother, are to be in the Dreaming at the same time for the first time in centuries (Morpheus can't say for certain how long it's been, which is how you know it's been a long time). A "conclave of the Endless," he called it.

Weird way to say you're having a family dinner, but whatever.

Though he'll never admit it, he's nervous. Nervous about his siblings being in his realm, nervous about how the Dreaming looks after having spent so long returning it to its former glory prior to his imprisonment, nervous about proving himself and his power once more. This dinner matters to him, and since you can't be there to support him—he refuses to possibly put you in harm's way and/or at the mercy of cunning and powerful beings who enjoy making mortals their playthings, which you appreciate immensely—he's trying desperately to control the few things that he can, including his outfit choice for the evening.

And there have been a lot of potential choices. Seriously, he's tried on so many outfits that you're starting to lose count. Coats and cloaks, robes and rubies, boots and blacks. It's a dizzying blur by now, and Morpheus looks as done as you feel. He's nothing if not relentless though, so the rigamarole shall continue.

He turns to face you when he's settled on a new choice, and you both look at his outfit with the discerning eye of a critic appraising a work of art. After a few moments, Jessamy, sitting on the back of your chair, is the one to speak up first.

"The collar does not suit you, my Lord."

His gaze goes to you, and the helplessness in his eyes almost makes you say that Jessamy's wrong and you like the look. You'd be lying, though, and you like to think that a core tenet of your relationship is honesty. With that in mind, you grimace and shake your head.

"She's right," you begrudgingly agree.

Huffing is an action that's below Morpheus. It's a very mortal thing to do, so naturally the Ruler of the Nightmare Realms does not huff. If he were to pretend to huff, though, the way that he abruptly turns back around and sighs heavily through his nose would be a very good impression. Your lips twitch when you glance at Jessamy out of the corner of your eye only to see her pulling the exact same move towards you, but you stay silent and go back to the watching and waiting game.

About three outfit changes later, something clicks, and you sit up in your chair in excitement. "Ooh, that's it!"

"You're right," Jessamy echoes your earlier words, only this time in a far more positive connotation.

Morpheus raises an elegant brow. "Elaborate, please."

"That's your outfit for tomorrow," you insist. "You're gorgeous, my love."

He stops fussing with his outfit and looks at you through the mirror. "You truly think so?"

"You look so handsome in that outfit. I mean, you're handsome all the time, but c'mon!" You grin, because how can you not? He's one of the most attractive men (-shaped beings, if one were to be picky) you've ever met in your life, and he's yours.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, as though attempting to detect any deceit from you, before inspecting his appearance one final time. With a nod and a very small, very self-satisfied smile, he says, "Then I shall wear this tomorrow."

"Perfect." Next to you, Jessamy sighs in relief, and you shoot her a furtive thumbs-up for a job well done.

Since your part in ensuring Morpheus has a successful dinner is complete, you leave the Dreaming hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. What this means is that you're expecting to fall asleep the day after the dinner is scheduled and walk into the worst hurricane that would ever be recorded were it in the Waking. Morpheus likes to act like he has no emotions, but the reality is quite the opposite. In fact, he has so many emotions, and they're all so strong. He just doesn't know how to deal with them, and chooses instead to hide them away until they burst.

Instead of the anticipated disaster zone, everything is...calm. Actually, it's a beautiful day. Think of the nicest spring day, and multiply it by at least 10 (maybe more). That's what this weather is. The sun is out and shining, the temperature is warm but not hot, and everything is in full bloom. Hell, there are actual flower petals dancing through the air right now. Flower petals!

You snag one of the petals and hold it gently between your thumb and forefinger, feeling the silkiness against your skin. "What kind of Disney movie am I in?" you mutter.

You feel Morpheus's presence behind you a mere moment before he asks, "What was that?"

Even with the environmental warning, he still makes you jump, and you turn around to face him. "Hi! How did it go?"

"Far better than I could have expected."

There's something...different about him. His hair looks especially messy and windswept (not that you're complaining, you love that), he's still wearing his special dinner outfit, and did he get taller? You feel like you have to look up just a little bit more to truly look at him so yeah, he definitely got taller.

"Good. I knew it would, though."

"You did?" he asks curiously.

"Of course. I had complete faith in you."

Those starry eyes of his twinkle brightly as he smirks at you, and the realization hits you like a truck. Now you know why Matthew's mannerisms have been so familiar! Because you've seen them before, and you're seeing them now. Morpheus thrives off of your compliments. How...interesting, and a theory that you need to test out immediately.

"I'm really proud of you, y'know." His lips turn upwards into something that's almost a smile, so you continue. "I know how hard this was for you, how much you worried, and you handled it beautifully."

The beautiful flowers surrounding you burst into the air, their petals falling down around you in the multitudes. You start to laugh, but Morpheus doesn't let you make another sound, instead ducking down (from his markedly taller height, mind you) to kiss you. Though you're caught off-guard, you quickly get with the program and return his affections.

"I would like to celebrate with you." He says before moving his lips to your ear, even though nobody around can hear him whisper, "In my chambers."

You pretend to think for a moment, because a moment's all you can spare. "I'm certainly not opposed to such plans."

He pulls you to him in a way that suggests you didn't really get a choice otherwise and grabs his sand from his robes. You press your lips together to hide your smile and happily hold onto him. Oh, you are so using this to your advantage from now on.

[garfinkelstingle]

magic and maybes | draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (implied slytherin!reader but only once i think)

warnings: swearing; implied mentions of verbal abuse; this is not in chronological order, but i do think it makes sense this way (especially if you've listened to the song); angst

word count: 5,2k

summary: based on “wendy” by maisie peters; loving draco is like something out of a fairytale. but not all of those always end with happily ever after, do they?

a/n: oh my!! hi!!! my first full-length fic in over a year!!!! so exciting!!!! this came to me while listening to wendy (which you should defo listen to if you haven't yet; the whole album is too good!!) and i just sort of rolled with it. i will never understand why i keep coming back to draco, but i just do. i have never written anything like this, and i certainly have never written draco like this, but the song called for it!! and also, let's be honest, this really matches draco better than it would most other characters. oh and i put it in the warning, but please beware that this is not written in chronological order. it's supposed to showcase the rollercoaster of relationship that reader and draco share, and i thought this was the best way to do it! let me know if you like it, it would really mean a lot <3 happy reading babes

masterlist

rolling like a stone / laughing like a kid

She had never seen him like this before.

Correction: She had never seen him like this before in front of people that weren't just her. Because this is the only way she had ever seen him, really seen him. She knew the charade he kept up, could see right through it better than anyone else. And if you took all of that faux meanness and excruciating ass-ness away, this is what you would be left with, what she's been left with all these years that she's known him. A silly kid, rolling around in the grass, holding his stomach laughing, eyes glistening with tears and shining brighter than any star ever could.

This is how she saw him, always, and how she hoped she would get to see him forever. This, and nothing else.

calling like the future / closed up like a fist

It was always the same. He always did this, and she swore that one of these days she would hex him into oblivion for it.

"What do you mean I can't come with you? We've been planning this for months; I told my parents to make plans without me and they have. What am I supposed to do now?" They had been at it for close to an hour now, going back and forth, nowhere close to having this argument reach its conclusion.

Usually, she didn't mind backing off. He was stubborn; she knew that. This wasn't something she had discovered only recently. She had known him for longer than she hadn't, so she was acutely aware of this quality of his. It didn't surprise her, but that didn't mean it didn't annoy her, either. So she'd just let it slide and move on—one of them had to.

This time, however? She wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm not responsible for you and how you spend your time," he provocatively stated, his eyes ablaze with fury that nearly matched hers. How dare he? As if this was in any way, shape, or form her fault.

"You have got to be kidding me! You were the one who invited me to spend Christmas break at your house! You were the one who wanted me to meet your parents! You were the one who made all these grand plans, and now you just blow me off the day break starts and talk about responsibility?" She couldn't believe him. She really, truly, couldn't.

Except that, maybe, she should. This wasn't the first time Draco blew off their plans. In fact, it wasn't even the second or the third. But he usually had a not-so-terrible reason for it, and the worst thing he had ever cancelled before was a Saturday in Hogsmeade or a picnic by the lake. This, however? This was huge, a plan that had been set into motion during the summer, when they had sent their owls into a frenzy, corresponding through multiple letters a day and vowing not to spend another break apart. She had told her parents before she boarded the train to take her back for another year at Hogwarts, that she would spend the Christmas break with her boyfriend and that they should take that trip to the sea they've been dreaming of forever. And since they did just that, and she didn't feel like ruining their holidays as well, she would now have to spend hers at the dingy castle, with people she barely knew and couldn't care less about.

She didn't even need him to change his mind at this point. While the reason he was giving her sucked, she was sure the real reason didn't—even if he wasn't planning on telling her. What bothered her so much was his refusal to just simply apologize for screwing up and leaving her hanging. If he would just say that he was sorry, she'd let this go. But she knew him well enough by now to know that the chances of that happening were non-existent at best.

"I will not apologize for your lack of a backup plan," he said, with a voice so cold that she could feel actual shivers run down her back. "I will see you after break is over. Merry Christmas." And with that, he turned around and made his way back to the castle, without even sparing her a backward glance.

And all she could do was stare after him, seemingly frozen in place, with tears flowing down her cheeks freely, and wonder if this was what loving someone was supposed to feel like.

lost my page when you kissed me

She hadn't meant to fall in love with him. They had been friends, or at least something very close to it. Draco believed that only people who had nothing else to their name cared about having friends, and she somewhat agreed with him. Friends were feeble; people came and went. There was no use getting attached to them, not when you couldn't ever be a hundred percent certain that they wouldn't just up and leave one day.

But he—he was something else. They had known each other for years, attending the same balls thrown by both their parents and their associates, riding in the same train compartment on their first trip to Hogwarts, reading the same books side-by-side on their common room's couch. They were put in each other’s orbits due to their inescapable proximity, yes, but they were welded together by baked goods that they would steal from the kitchen and share in some dark corner of the too-big houses they would be dragged to, shy smiles and squeezing of hands followed by it's okay, you're not alone's, two a.m. conversations in front of the fireplace in which they discussed whatever books they just finished reading and, sometimes, maybe even more. That's what made her the first person he would say "good morning" to at the breakfast table, and what made him her preferred potions partner. Nothing more and nothing less. They weren't friends, but they were each other's person. Whatever that meant.

It made sense, and it worked, and neither of them needed more. Or so she thought. Because when Draco kissed her after one of those infamous two a.m. conversations and told her „You just looked too pretty not to kiss", after she asked him why he would do something so ridiculous, she came to realize that maybe they were wrong. Maybe getting attached to someone wasn't the worst thing there was. It couldn't be. Right?

i know the girl you want / it scares me

He was scared. He was scared, but so was she. The future was uncertain and terrifying. It didn't make sense on a good day and was simply revolting on a bad one. So much could go wrong at any given moment in time, and not knowing when or what could happen made it sometimes feel like, maybe, life just wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

And when you add love to that equation? You're pretty much just signing off on a death sentence. Draco knew that, and so did she, but unlike him, she believed it to be worth it. Love was never something she saw herself needing, or even wanting, but now that she had it, she was certain it was worth all the heartbreak it might possibly entail. Draco, however? He still didn't trust her enough to let his walls down completely, to give her the power to destroy him and believe her when she said that she would never, ever do that.

She loved him, and she was certain that he loved her, too, but she also knew that he might never be able to let her know that himself. And she knew that he expected that to be enough, that her own knowledge would suffice her and that she would survive without his confirmation, and maybe she could. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to. Spending your time with someone who was emotionally closed off to everyone around you and made them feel like they were replaceable was one thing, but spending your life with someone who was emotionally closed off toward you and too proud to tell you that the one person he could never replace was you? She wasn't sure if she was strong enough for that. She doubted she ever would be. And that terrified her more than anything else ever had before.

pretty like a girl / vicious like a man

He was beautiful. She had always found him inexplicably beautiful; his was the kind of beauty poems were about, a beauty that ran so deep and was so intricate that she sometimes wondered if he wasn't put on this world solely to be admired and stared at.

Even now, when his face was laced with fury and his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping his desk, he was still beautiful.

She wasn't even sure what they were fighting about now, stopped paying actual attention to the ugly words leaving his mouth. Instead, she was questioning her judgment. She had always found him beautiful on the outside, just as everyone else did, but unlike them, she had also always considered his soul to be beautiful, too. And yet here she was, target to his livid shouts and insults, wondering if maybe that was just another thing that she had been terribly, terribly wrong about.

give up like a ghost / leaving halfway through

It was moronic at best, really. They had spent a fortune on these tickets and had been excited for this game for months now. So, the fact that they were now letting it all go to waste? It was pure idiocy.

Especially when you looked at the why. He was being a child, a petulant little toddler who got upset at the idea of giving his girlfriend of nearly four years a kiss in public.

And the worst thing is that she hadn’t even been upset because it hadn’t surprised her in the slightest. She knew Draco, knew that he liked keeping their PDA to an absolute minimum, and she didn’t mind it in the slightest. Or, well, not enough to be actively affected by it. So, when the kiss-cam panned to their faces, she blew it a kiss and winked for good measure and went back to talking to Draco about how pathetic Potter and his friends looked standing there on the very far side of the stadium, most likely not even able to see the scoreboard. She had moved on, and so had the camera, but for whatever reason, Draco didn't.

Instead, he started huffing and puffing about Salazar knows what, getting upset at her for what, exactly? For respecting his need for privacy? For not pushing him to do something she knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with doing, even though she really wanted to? For, once again, putting him first and foremost? Is that what he was trying to punish her for? Because he certainly didn’t seem to be able to put it into words, storming off like an actual imbecile instead, leaving halfway through the match.

And of course, she had to follow him like the ever-loyal girlfriend that she was, trying to catch up with him and calm him down, even though she was seconds away from losing her bloody mind herself. She was sick and tired of his juvenile behaviour, was just so exhausted with having to put up with his shit instead of just enjoying herself, and yet it seemed as if some invisible string kept on pulling her in his direction, not allowing her to choose her own needs and herself, ever.

She wondered if he would ever grow tired of this pretence of his, or if this was what being with Draco Malfoy would entail, forever. She didn’t want to believe it, but it became harder and harder with each passing day. Maybe this is who he was, who he always would be.

But maybe it was just a matter of time before he would finally give it all up and be who she has blindly believed him to be all this time. All she could do, it seemed, was to hope that she wouldn’t be the one to give up, first.

if i'm not careful we'll be married

"Do you ever think about the future?" His voice broke through the quiet reverie they had both found themselves in. She was used to him being the first one to speak up after a long beat of silence; he didn't find it quite as peaceful and tranquilizing as she did. Not that she minded, though. She liked his voice, and she liked talking to him even more. To say that the question surprised her, though, would be an understatement.

Putting the book she was currently reading to the side, she snuggled further into him. The fireplace was providing a fair amount of heat, but the chill seemed to be inescapable in the Slytherin common room. It was also just very nice to be able to have him hold her close like this, even if the only reason he did so was because it was far past midnight and everyone else was already fast asleep.

"Sometimes, yeah," she said. "Do you?"

"Yeah." She didn't expect him to elaborate, so it stunned her when he did. "I see us. You and me, together. Married. But not like them. Like us. Does that make sense?" It did. She knew exactly what he meant. Not like them. Not like his parents, who didn't love each other in the slightest and could barely stand each other most days. And not like her parents, either, who cared deeply about one another, at least as much as you could care about someone you didn't choose to marry. They found a way to be friendly and cordial, mainly because they didn't want their daughter to grow up with parents who were constantly at each other's throats, but it was still far away from the real deal.

Were they the real deal? That's what Draco was implying, wasn't it? That if they would get married, it'd be because they loved each other. He's never even said it, she thought. And he hadn't. But he's said this now, hadn't he? And that should be worth more than any stupid three words ever could be, right? Because he wanted to marry her, really marry her, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. It rarely happened for people of their status, so she should be beyond delighted that it was happening to her. Plus, she loved him, too, and unlike him, she hadn't been afraid to say those three words. Marrying Draco was what she was supposed to want; finding out that he wanted to marry her, too, was supposed to be the greatest news she's ever heard. So why was there some nagging part of her brain that knew that saying yes would be the worst thing she could possibly do?

"I know what you mean," she said. She had never lied to him before.

you want me / you're sure

Blaise Zabini was flirting with her. Then again, Blaise Zabini flirted with everything that had legs and a mouth he could kiss, so it did nothing to impress her. It did, however, do its damage by making Draco furiously jealous. After all this time together, she prided herself in being able to read him like a book. Him storming off like a petulant child made her think that, in this instance at least, even a visually impaired person would be able to deduct the fact that he was (unreasonably) upset.

Sighing, she made out to follow him, annoyed that she had to make yet another excuse for her friends. It shouldn't be her job to smooth things over every time his tantrums killed the mood at a get-together, and yet it seemed like part of the "Dating-Draco-Malfoy" package.

She found him at the lake, the same way she always did. She wondered if there was any specific reason he chose this place to run off to , but she doubted he would tell her even if there was. Some secrets just weren't worth the effort of trying to figure out.

She expected him to be upset with her, to accuse her of leading Zabini on and whoring herself out to him—Salazar knew it wouldn't be the first time. It used to upset her beyond measure. There would be a good amount of crying and screaming on her part; calling him a pretentious douche, telling him to screw off if he really thought so little of her. It always ended the same: he would storm off, eventually, and disappear for a good few hours. Then, he'd come back, without something even remotely close to an apology, and tell her he wasn't mad anymore. She knew what he really meant when he said it: I expect you not to be mad anymore, either. And even when she was, she was usually too exhausted to keep on fighting. After a while, she decided there wasn't even any point in being upset in the first place. Draco was who he was; she knew what she was getting into. Or so she kept telling herself.

This time, however, seemed different. She was sure he could hear her approach him—he always did. So why wasn't he turning around? Why wasn't he yelling at her and making her feel as if the affection of others was her fault?

He stayed quiet until she finally reached him and made to stand next to him. "I don't like it when others try to make a pass at you," he said. She waited a beat, wondering if he was going to add anything else. He did. "I know I have no right to be upset with you." This was new. It surprised her. So much so that she wondered if she might've misheard. "It's not your fault Zabini has no respect for boundaries, or anyone else, for that matter. I just... it's paralyzing, sometimes. Realizing that you could leave me for someone else at any given moment, and there's nothing I could do about it. I want to be with you. I know I'm not always good at voicing it, but I do. I'm certain. That's why I get upset. Because it terrifies me."

She took his hand in hers and gave the back of it a soft kiss. This was possibly the most vulnerable he had been with her, ever. She understood him; of course she did. Didn't he know that she was just as terrified? That a life without him in it didn't seem to make any sense whatsoever to her? She loved him, and now she was sure that he loved her, too.

Nothing else mattered.

lose the world that you live in / pretend that it's what you wanted

“This isn’t okay, and you know it.” Maybe she did. Maybe she knew that this wasn’t right, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to feel like. But it’s all she’s ever known, and sometimes it felt as if this was all she’d ever want to know. Because when it was good it was great. It was all she could ever want and then some, and she honestly didn’t think she would ever find anything better than it.

Draco wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. She had her flaws just like anyone else, so to expect him to be something she herself couldn’t be? That seemed unfair and illogical at best.

“Look, you don’t get it, alright?” And she didn’t. None of them did. Not her mother or her father, not her friends or his. They were complicated and messy, but they were right. Right for each other, right in all the ways that mattered. She loved him, and he loved her. If there was anything in life she was sure of, then it was that.

“You can’t let him treat you like that.” That’s what it always boiled down to. Every fight she ever had about him—and there were probably too many to count—always came to the same conclusion: She shouldn’t let him treat her like that. But what did that even mean? No one would ever treat her the way he did. No one would ever look at her as if she was the reason they got up in the morning, as if she hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. No one would ever be able to make her feel like she was the thing they lived for, someone they’d die and kill for in the same breath.

So, what if he’d yell at her and insult her and make her question her worth sometimes? He’d never allow her to question herself out loud to him; he’d make sure to show her how important she was to him. And Salazar forbid someone else dared to say the wrong thing when it came to her—he’d made sure it’s the last thing they’d ever say.

Maybe she knew it wasn’t okay, what they were doing. There were a million words to describe their relationship, with toxic and unhealthy being the prime examples. But no relationship was perfect. Why should theirs be?

it's a life i could have, i know

They were invited to someone's birthday. She didn't even know whose, just knew to wear "that green dress that makes you look like actual royalty". There also had been a promise by a certain someone that the dress would later be carefully taken off, and that there would be some... not so careful actions afterwards. It was the prospect of that that kept her from making up some excuse as to why she suddenly had to leave this awful and hollow house and curl up with a book and one of Draco's sweaters in her bed.

The party in itself wasn't awful; on the contrary, it was lovely. The music was played by a live orchestra, and the entire house was decorated in different shades of blue and silver. There were white roses everywhere, and the food was exceptional, too. But she didn't know anyone here except for Draco; she didn't even know the birthday girl. She was a couple years older than the two of them, and from what she understood she was the wife of a son of a business partner of Draco's father. Or something like that.

She was currently standing in a corner all by herself, with a champagne flute in hand, trying to find Draco in the crowd. He had snuck off some time ago, claiming that he had to make the rounds or else "my father is going to chew my ear off about it", convincing her that it wasn't necessary for her to introduce herself tediously to every single person he would have to shake hands with. He wasn't wrong, but somehow standing in her lonely corner appeared to be an even worse fate.

Eventually, she locked eyes with Draco and gave him a small smile. She knew it was pointless to beckon him to her; he'd just shrug her off. Instead, he sent a quick wink her way, before turning back around to speak to whatever important person he was speaking to right now.

This could be my life, she thought. Going places with Draco, having him wink at her from across the room, promising to take her dress off at the end of the night and make it all worth it. This could be the rest of her life. She could see it, could see herself be one of the important men’s wives, gossiping away in some lonely corner just like hers, on their fifth or sixth flute of champagne already, trying to hide the hollow look in their eyes. This could be it. It was nothing like the life that she had wanted for herself all this time, and yet it didn’t seem to bother her nearly as much as it should.

throw your rocks / scream that you hate me

She didn’t even know how long it’s been. All she knew was that her mother had been up twice to tell her that she was this close to hexing him away from their property, and that she had begged her just as often not to.

“He has every right to be upset,” she had said, and could feel the bile rise in her throat at the bitter taste of the lie. Because no matter how often she told herself just that, it didn’t sound any more truthful to her ears than it did the time before. Yes, maybe Draco was allowed to be upset. She certainly was. But standing below her window, completely wasted, and throwing rocks at it, whilst yelling profanities at her? No one should have the right to do that.

And it wasn’t as if it was her fault, either. She had given him a choice; she shouldn't have had to do that. She hadn’t even meant to. It was supposed to be clean cut. She was supposed to tell him that it was over, that it should have been over a long time ago. If he still couldn’t tell her that he loved her after five years together, chances were that he never would. And she was just so tired of not hearing those words.

But she had looked him in the eyes and something—something made her believe that maybe, just maybe, he would realize that she was worth so much more to him than his pride and that being with her was worth more than being whoever he kept on pretending to be.

She should have known that her stupid, childish hope would be the death of her.

So here he was now, screaming that he hated her, that he wished that he had never met her, that being with her had been the greatest mistake of his life. And what if he wasn’t wrong? Would things had been different had she been different? Would he have been able to tell her how he felt if she had been more like Daphne? Would she have been able to leave him sooner and protect her own heart had she been more like Pansy?

It was driving her mad, the never-ending question of “what if?”, and yet her silly mind didn’t seem to be able to put an end to it. Because no matter how awful being (or in this case not being) with Draco may have been, it was still the most magical time in her life so far. And she didn’t even doubt for one second that the rest of her life might have been just as magical, too. Except that there was only so long a person could survive on magic and maybe’s, before eventually having to put an end to the madness and realize that the whimsical dreams weren’t anything other than nightmares hiding behind a pretty façade.

She loved Draco, loved him with her entire being, loved him more than she could ever imagine loving or even wanting to love anyone else. But, somehow, along the way, she had come to realize that just because she couldn’t see ever loving herself even half as much as she loved him, it was still enough to realize that leaving him was the only way she could ensure that she wouldn’t lose herself completely.

So, when her mother came up for the third time, this time with her father in tow, she didn’t fight them when they suggested to call the authorities to remove the Malfoy boy from their property. After all, just because Peter never wanted to grow up, didn't mean Wendy couldn’t.

i could love you / wait 'til you're ready

It was the little things more than it would ever be the big ones. She knew Draco, knew that the only way she could expect big romantic gestures from him was if someone were to put him under a spell, which is why she came to appreciate the small gestures and hold them as close and dear to her heart as she possibly could.

It was the little enchanted paper cranes that would hold little love notes of “your hair looks pretty today” and “how lucky I am to be dating the smartest witch in this castle”.

It was how he would lend her his robe without a second thought when he would see her rub her hands together in a fruitless attempt of warding off the cold, even though he had adamantly tried to convince her to wear a jumper underneath.

It was how he would press a kiss on her temple first thing in the morning, without fail, every single day, no matter if they had fought the previous evening or not, letting her know that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It was how he would rub her feet at the end of a long day in Hogsmeade, knowing that her boots were a size too small but that she loved them too much not to suck up the pain and go out with them anyways.

She loved him, and whilst she had no problem with telling him just that, he had no problem with showing her, either. And maybe he wasn’t lying when he told her that he just needed time, that she ought to just be patient, that sooner rather than later he would feel ready enough to say it, too.

The question wasn’t whether she could wait or not; she knew she could.  The question was whether she loved herself enough to know that she shouldn't have to.

forever 20

Twenty.

That’s how often she had said it, and how often he had stayed quiet. And every time he hated himself just a little bit more because he knew that with every time that she would say it without hearing a reply, he would get closer to hearing it for the last time.

And now here he was, stuck at twenty, forever, because he knew her well enough to know that it was over, really, truly over, with no one to blame but himself.

The worst thing was that for every time she said it, he had wanted to say it tenfold, had wanted to shower her with those words until she grew sick and tired of them. Had, on the worst days, wanted to just grip her by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake her and tell her, over and over, that he loved her, that he had loved her all this time and would love her for all the time to come.

But he never did, and now she was gone beyond his reach and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that, maybe, this was the best thing that had ever happened to her. The best thing he had ever done for her. And that had to count for something, right?

[rjmartin11]

Faded Love: Part Three

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: After finding out about Elvis infidelity, you decide to have one final decision before you walk out the door for good.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Confession time, talks of pregnancy, Smut

Author's Notes: Welcome to the final act.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💙・ʚ♡ɞ・

You hang up the phone, and Elvis' heart drops. He's lost you. A tear trickles down his cheek as he hangs up the phone. He calls off the search as you asked, and everything goes quiet.

Elvis goes up to his room to reflect on his life and on you. He kneels in front of the window to pray to God for clarity and guidance, but most of all forgiveness. He wants you back so badly he'd do anything.

"God, I love her," he weeps. "I need a miracle, Lord. Bring her back to me, and I'll never ever screw up again. I'll mend each and every promise I've broken to have her back in my arms. I'll be faithful. I'll pledge my undying love to her and only her. She's the love of my life. Please, Lord."

Elvis collapses on the floor in tears, curling up in the fetal position. Elvis waits for some sort of miracle to happen. He doesn't know what to expect, but he'll wait. He will wait for you.

.....

On the other side of the line, you sit with a cool compress on your head and a heating pad on your tummy. You believe the stress from everything has brought you to this point. You've had break-ups before, but nothing like this. Your stomach is knots, and you feel queezy.

"Y/N?" Sharon starts. "You feeling any better."

"I feel so strange," you answer slowly. "This stress on my body is... I don't know. I just think it would be best if Elvis and I distanced ourselves from one another. He needs to find out what he wants."

"What if he wants you?" Sharon questions. "Are you still going to ask him for a divorce?"

"Yes."

You take a deep breath as you speak. Why do you feel nauseous? You begin to question everything that led to this. Did you eat something bad? Is this a realization and the result of an unfit union?

"Y/N, have you vomited again?" Sharon asks.

"Once, after I hung up the phone with him. I ran straight to the bathroom. It just seems like it's gotten worse over the last couple of days," you admit.

"When did this start?"

"A few weeks ago. On and off a few times. I thought it was stress from Elvis' lack of love for me. That and the roast from the night before."

"Y/N, when was the last time you and Elvis slept together?"

"Three days ago. The day I left him."

"And before that?" Sharon asks.

"A month or so. We made love, and then a few days later, it was like he started to resent me."

"You just start feeling this way?"

"Sharon, what are you getting at?" You ask, rebuking this line of questioning.

Sharon smiles and takes you by the hand. She leads you to the bathroom, placing you in front of the mirror.

"My dearest little sister. You've been sick and moody for a full month. When was the last time you had your period?" Sharon asks.

Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You've been so worried about losing Elvis that you didn't realize you skipped your period.

"I... I thought it was stress, Sharon." You say. "I've missed periods before, but I was stressed."

Sharon pulls out a pregnancy test from the bathroom cabinet, handing it to you.

"Let's find out," Sharon says calmly.

.....

Fifteen minutes later...

It only takes ten minutes for you to get an accurate read on a pregnancy test. You are nervous. You can't stop pacing the floor. Your palms are sweaty. Your feet are sore, and your tummy keeps doing flips.

If this test proves you're a mommy. That means Elvis will be a daddy. This changes everything. You want a divorce, yet you want this baby to have both parents. Something you and Sharon didn't have growing up. You have no doubt that Elvis will be a good father. A great father, in fact. He was raised in the home with both his parents. Loving parents who supported him in everything he did. That's what you wanted for your child.

You try to focus on your breath and relax. The last few days have been stressful. If you are pregnant, stress is not good for you.

"Well?" Sharon questions, peeking her head in the door.

"Well, what?" You turn to look at her.

"I'm I going to be an aunt or not?"

You put your hands through your hair and breathe.

"Sharon," you begin with tears in your eyes. "Once I look at the test, my life will forever change.

Sharon slowly walks into the bathroom, placing her hands on your arms she asks you,

"You want me to check for you?"

"I... I... yes... no, don't. Yes, please."

Before you can stop her, Sharon grabs the test off the counter. Her face is blank, giving you no clue as to what the answer is to the questions of the day.

"So???" You breathe and wait with anticipation.

Sharon looks over at you with a small smirk on her face.

"Elvis placed a bun in your oven, Y/N."

"Holy... shit," you breathe a sigh of relief as you place your hands on your stomach.

You are happy, but you are still at a loss for words. This baby isn't just yours, but it's Elvis' as well.

"What am I going to do, Shar?"

"Little sister. You're going home, and you're going to tell Elvis he's going to be a father. I have a feeling he's very sorry. Despite everything that he did. You need to speak to him. Tell him the truth. You can do that much."

Gently, Sharon grabs you and gives you a hug. She does her job as a big sister, comforting you and telling you the truth you try to deny. You are really reluctant to follow her advice, yet you know she's right.

The next day, you borrow Sharon's car to return to Graceland. The drive is only ten miles, but it might as well have been an eternity. Every mile felt like a hundred miles. Your stomach's in knots as you drive through the gates.

Before you go into the house, you say a silent prayer. As if you weren't saying one on your way to Graceland.

"Strength. God, grant me the strength," you whisper as you stand at the front door.

You walk in, not knowing what to expect. You hear Elvis' voice immediately, following his it beyond the kitchen into the Jungle Room. You see all the guys in there as Elvis sings Unchained Melody on the piano.

His voice has always lit a fire deep within your heart and soul. When he sings, Elvis builds a connecting bridge between himself and his fans, and you aren't an exception to that rule. It's part of the reason you love him so much. Your heart swells as Elvis unleashes this beautiful part of himself to everyone in the room. These private singing sessions always made you feel special because it almost seemed that it was all for you.

As Elvis ends the song, you exhale the breath you didn't realize you were holding in. Every eye turns to look at you, and Elvis looks up from his piano.

He loses his breath as he sees the image of you clear in his view. A sight for sore eyes. If you only knew how much he missed you. If you only realized how much he prayed for you in the last week. He wished on every star in the sky that his angel would return to him, and here you are.

Elvis slowly raises from the piano bench. His heart beats out of control, yet he remains composed. He wants to run to you and embrace you. He wants to place soft kisses all over your body, but he doesn't want to scare you away like a timid doe.

"Y/N," Elvis says, his voice as clear as a bell on Sunday morning.

"Hello, Elvis," you reply.

"Gentleman," Elvis announces, his eye never leaving you. "Please give us the room."

They all pile out the room as asked. A few of them pat your shoulders as they pass. It's just you and Elvis alone in the room.

"You're home, baby," he says.

"No, but we need to talk."

"Yes, we do. I... me first, please?" Elvis asks, extending his hand to you.

In good faith, you take his hand. Elvis smiles and walks you to the couch, sitting you both down. He notices a glow about you, and it makes him want to kiss you so badly. But he behaves himself. Good things come to those who wait. He holds your hands in his bigger hands, trembling.

"Baby, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. I...I got you something amazing. I hope you like it," he says, pulling a box out of his pocket.

You had a feeling Elvis would do this. Elvis never ever had a problem expressing himself verbally. If he was happy or angry or even hungry. He expressed it. If he was sad or depressed Elvis would tell you and the guys. But for some reason, Elvis could never verbally admit when he was wrong or apologize. He'd buy luxurious gifts to compensate for his wrongdoings. It made you mad.

"For fuck sake, you can't even apologize. Can you? Buying me gifts doesn't make up my what you've done."

"Y/N, I... I give you every fucking thing you could want and you..."

"Stop!" You shout, jumping off the couch. "Elvis, stop. I'm done arguing. I didn't come here to argue. I came here to tell you something and leave."

"I don't want you to leave, Y/N," Elvis says, standing before you. "I have more to say. I can't be without you. You are worth every fight. We need to work this out. Come back home, and things will be different. I promise..."

"Elvis, I'm pregnant," you blurt out.

The look on Elvis' face is unreadable, but you continue talking anyway.

"I can't stay here with you like this. I choose this baby. I don't want to lose him or her because you and I got into an argument about whatever."

Elvis falls to his knees, embracing you in a hug. He kisses your tummy, leaving you speechless. Tears pour from your eyes as you feel his soft lips kiss you. He grabs a fist full of the back of your dress.

"Baby, this is incredible," Elvis says, looking up at you. "I prayed to God that something would link us together. This is it, baby. Don't you see?!"

"Elvis, I... I can't."

Elvis stands up, looking you in your eyes. He touches your damp cheeks, wiping the tears away.

"You can't leave me, baby," Elvis says. "I just want to know one thing, Y/N. Then, if you really want to leave, I-I-I won't stop ya."

"What?" You ask. Caught in his grasp.

"Who's ever gonna love you like me? Huh? You once said that I was it for you. Who gonna kiss your lips like me?"

Elvis softly places a kiss on your lips, and you melt like butter in his arms.

"Y/N, who's gonna kiss your spots for you? Your cheeks? The soft spot on your neck that makes your knees quiver," Elvis whispers as he kisses your neck.

Your eyes roll back as his soft lips place kisses on your neck as his hands slowly travel down your back. Elvis was right. No one would love you like he does. No one will take the time to learn your body the way he has. Elvis has ruined sex for you. No one can touch you the way he can, but you're to obstinate to admit it. If Elvis wants you back, he has to work for you. Yet, he still hasn't said the words to open your heart to him again.

"Baby," Elvis says. "Who knows how to work your pussy like me? How to tune you up and lay you down?"

Elvis sits you down on the couch once more. Bowing in front of you, he tenderly spreads your legs away. He lifts your dress up to expose your panties to him. You try to control your breathing, but it's hitched. You know what's coming.

"Does he notice how wet my panties are?" You wonder to yourself.

You know you're in trouble once he rubs the pad of his thumb over your covered entrance. Your chest heaves as Elvis looks into your eyes. He laces both of his index fingers into your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, baby," Elvis says. "I'm so damn sorry. I... never meant to hurt you. You are my everything."

And with that beautiful apology, you open your heart and accept all that he gives you. Elvis places his lips to your wet, throbbing clit. You sit back and enjoy the ride Elvis takes you on to erotic pleasure. You feel more sensitive than usual. He lathers his tongue all over your clitorus, making you moan out his name.

He then removes his mouth from you to gaze at your blized out face. You are so beautiful to him. He loves you so much. Without warning, Elvis inserts his middle and ring finger into your wet pussy. Causing you to cry out for him.

"Elvis! Ahh!"

"Baby, no one can ever do to you what I do," Elvis whispers. "You're mine. You'll always be mine, and I'm yours."

"Yes," you moan.

Elvis places his lips back to your clit as his fingers furiously work your sweet spot. It's as if he's singing to your clit as he strums your insides. Your chest heaves as you try to maintain your breathing. The heat at your core is like coals swelling to fire. You scratch his scalp as he brings you to the brink of pleasure.

You cum as you grind softly into his face. Elvis has taken all your strength from you. You couldn't leave even if you wanted to.

Elvis laps up some of your nectar before standing up to take his clothes off. His body's armed and ready for you. His cock is rock hard, aiming to plunge deep within you. He teases your entrance instead of immediately driving his cock into you. This teasing has you squirming with excitement.

"Is this okay?" Elvis asks.

You nod your head with enthusiasm as he lifts your leg and gently pushes into you. You both moan at the sensation of being connected together. Elvis steadies his pace as he pumps in and out of you. You grab onto he firmly. He feels better than the last time. You don't know how, but the passion is more powerful than any other time you've had sex. Maybe it's because you're pregnant, or maybe it's because Elvis means to prove to you that you're the one for him. Either way, you accept it.

You push yourself up into Elvis as he pushes into you, giving as much as you take. You look into each other's eyes, seeing into one another's souls.

"Forgive me, Y/N," Elvis pleads. "Forgive me for all I've done. I love you."

"Y-yes," you stutter out.

"Stay with me and be mine," he whispers, pounding harder into you.

"I will, daddy waddy!" You scream as you cum once more.

Elvis isn't far behind you cumming inside you once more. If you were pregnant before the makeup session, you are now. Elvis wraps you up in his arms, placing kisses on your neck up to your face. You missed this. This high school/honeymoon phase of your relationship. The moments when he was so gentle, kind, and extra loving. He rubs your tummy, causing you to remember that you two are alone.

"We're having a baby, Y/N, baby," Elvis whispers as he kisses your lips.

"We're having a baby, E," you say with a smile on your face.

This moment couldn't be more perfect. And just thinking in eight months, your baby would be in your arms. Life is splendid.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @littlehoneyposts @msamarican

[purecantarella]

BLACKPINK Reactions : You Deal With Racism

request : Question, can you do a post about a black reader dating a blackpink member and then dealing with racism? I’m black and never seen it done so it would make me happy! i was very nervous when i saw this, because i don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or to get anything wrong and offend more people, so i hope that i did the request and the community as a whole justice. i would like to stress and say that while i am filipino, while i have experienced microaggressions, i have been blessed enough to not have experienced outright racism...that i can remember at least. i hope i do the ideas justice though and to those who have to stand for these actions, you are brave souls indeed. blackpink x black!reader disclaimer/s : racial slurs and aggressive acts (verbal and physical), oh and cursing. read with a level head.

Kim Jisoo

When Jisoo began dating you, she entered the relationship with a sort of colorblind mindset. It didn't matter to her what color of skin you had, she just liked you and found your energy electric.

It was never an issue to her, until you came home one night in a rage.

She scrolled through her timeline, laughing softly at viral memes of her member over the course of the tour when you entered the house. Jumping when the door slammed against it's frame as you stormed in. Tears in your eyes as you pulled your jacket off of your body.

Instantly, Jisoo stared at you with a concerned expression. She allowed you to calm down as you paced in front of her, thoughts clouded with rage. "I just can't believe that in this century, this point in time people still look at me with such..."

You're unable to continue your statement, only blundering into a groan of frustration. Jisoo was rather confused, before taking your hands in hers, the contrast between your hands only fueling your frustration further.

You sit beside her before letting your tears run down your cheeks, feeling helpless as she runs her hands atop your head lovingly. "What happened...?" She asks, her clumsy English accent making you smile.

You sniffle softly before pulling your hands, wiping your tears away, "Just some idiots...they thought I couldn't understand them and they said quote-on-quote, be careful with your bags kids, that gangster might steal them from you." You explain quickly, not wanting to dwell on it any further, just wanting to find comfort in your soft girlfriend.

However, your beloved girlfriend simply tilts her head to the side, offering you a small smile. On a normal day, the hint of innocence in her smile would often comfort you, bringing you a sense of calm and reminding you just why you fell for her in the first place.

Now though, it struck you as insensitive and all together it added onto your frustration. Just when you thought she would say nothing more and you could brush it aside, Jisoo says, "Just ignore them."

It wasn't anything offensive. In fact it was good advice. But after the day you had, after how much you've pent up with living in South Korea and having to deal with it each day of your life, ignoring those kinds of comments felt impossible.

You pull your hands away from Jisoo, her bright expression melting into one of concern again. You laugh dryly before getting up, walking towards your shared bedroom, "You...Soo I don't think you get it."

"No, no, I do, I swear," She tries to backtrack before she shifts to face you better. Innocence smeared all over her face. "I get a lot of hate as an idol, but I suppose the best thing to do is to just turn the other cheek."

You laugh again, tears of frustration pricking your eyes. Your hands rushing over your face over and over again in attempts to get your thoughts together. "I will always be discriminated based solely on how my skin looks. It isn't the same." You try to explain calmly in spite of the fire kindling in the pit of your stomach.

Still she looks up at you confused.

You sigh deeply before walking back towards your shared bedroom, "It doesn't matter, Jisoo. It's fine." You say quickly before slowly closing the door behind you. Leaving Jisoo confused and guilty.

As soon as she hears the door click, she's on the phone with Jennie, asking for advice. Wanting to understand you and what you go through better without hurting you further.

"I'm sorry, you said what to her?" Jennie berated her as she looked at your closed door with a bitter taste in her mouth, regretting everything she'd said and done in the span of a five minute conversation.

Kim Jennie

Getting into a very public relationship was already a scandal to Jennie's fans, but dating someone like you was almost unheard of for her fans who saw her as an angel and had assumptions of you. Both of you were very aware of the potential consequences.

But in that moment it was all or nothing. And you were both all in.

To Jennie, the freedom of being able to hold her girlfriend's hand while they were on a date was the most liberating and amazing feeling she could ever have. Your hands intertwined with one another as you told her about your day, waiting for a waiter to approach.

"Ah miss Kim! It's a pleasure to serve you again." The waiter greets politely, his smile gleaming. The rapper offers him a kind smile before she notices that he looks over at you. Expression not as polished, more restrained. Merely offering you an acknowledging nod but she chalked it up to her being a regular and more familiar to the man.

"Hon, what do you feel like having?" Jennie asks you, her hand momentarily breaking from yours to pluck the menu from in front of her. You turn to her but before you can say anything the waiter butts in, "We have a selection of chicken, normally we wouldn't fry anything but if that's what your..." There's a pause as he eyes you up and down, "...companion would like miss Kim we can surely find a way."

You fall silent and laugh nervously while Jennie glares at him, resentment boiling under her skin, "N-No thank you, I'd actually like-" Again he cuts you off, "Or perhaps she would like baked potatoes, Miss Kim? We can have them serve it extra spicy for your companion."

"I can speak for my-"

"However I am sad to say there are no more watermelons available, miss Kim-"

Finally, Jennie has enough and cuts the waiter off with a kind but venomous smile. "First of all, she can speak for herself. If you had anything valuable to say, you can say it directly to her. She is not an object or dare I say what you think she is...the help." Jennie says begrudgingly, shooting you an apologetic look.

She watches the waiter gulp nervously, "Second, the stereotypes you've stuck to her based on what she looks like are not only offensive but outlandishly wrong. And lastly, saying she's my girlfriend. Not a companion but my girlfriend."

You've heard it a million times before but it still makes your insides melt when she says that. A sense of pride fills you as you watch the rapper stand up for you so fiercely. "Now, I suggest you go back and come back when you're ready to actually listen and tend to your patrons." Jennie finishes before the man bows, muttering a soft apology before he runs back to the kitchen.

You look over at your flushed with rage girlfriend before she looks over at you rather sheepishly. "I"m sorry if I caused a scene." You smile and shake your head, leaning in to place a delicate kiss over her soft cheek.

"I've never seen you get so riled up, Jen." You pause to laugh softly, "Anger is almost a good color on you."

She pauses and leans into you, catching you off guard. Just a moment ago she was a warrior, ready to fight any battle for you. The armor quickly melts as her hand finds yours again. Her thumb brushes over your knuckles, making you lean in closer. Nose burrowing in her hair.

"I shouldn't have made a scene...It might have made you look even worse to the public...I can see the headline now. Jennie Kim's black girlfriend is a bad influence to her good girl nature." Her voice is fragile before you shake your head.

"You meant well, Jen. Just don't make it a every night thing." You whisper before leaving a light kiss on the crown of her head. In attempts to lighten the mood, you look down at the menu, "You know, that chicken sound about right now."

Jennie chuckles softly before shoving your chest gently, "Shut up Y/n, I know you don't like chicken."

After that, the night wasn't so bad. But Jennie definitely took note to not come to the restaurant again.

Park Chaeyoung / Rosé

From the moment you entered the limelight as Park Chaeyoung's girlfriend, you were under so much more fire than you usually were. Scrutinized for every little thing and it didn't help that you were a woman of color.

It was an uphill battle every day, working extra hard to prove that you were worthy of the Blink's angel on Earth. You couldn't afford to make a mistake or even be proud of your heritage.

Rosé saw the pain that caused you every day.

One day, being fed up with how restricted you had to be, she got you something that she thought you would have loved.

"Okay Rosie, my eyes are closed and I'm in the bedroom. What's this big surprise?" You ask, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you feel around, swatting the air excitedly. You hear your girlfriend giggle softly before excitedly screaming, "Open your eyes love!"

You open your eyes and see a set of matching outfits. You chuckle as you turn to Rosé who wore a proud smile. It was the one where her cheeks crumpled in and her eyes were crescents, it made your heart do all sorts of flips. "We're going to your favorite coffee shop, picking out some books, and playing chess in the park down the street! Everything you've been hinting at the past few weeks."

You blush and twirl on your own axis, "I didn't think you were listening."

She smiles before leaning forward, pressing her lips to yours. "Get dressed, my love. I'm going to hop in the shower." She pecks your lips again quickly, "I want to be looking my best for you."

You smile as Rosé skips happily to the bathroom. You walk over to the bed, a smile growing on your lips as you see just what she's done. She was truly a dream come true.

After preparing yourselves, you take a short walk to the coffee shop nearby. It was secluded enough that Rosé wouldn't be spotted and they made your favorite drink perfectly. Of course there was an odd stare here and there upon seeing you walk in, but you'd come so often that it had slowly stopped.

"Y/n! You're back!" The manager called out jovially before taking head of the register. "You make it sound like I wasn't here last week, Han." You joke before Rosé departs from you to grab a table.

You say your order and the older man nods, striking up conversation with a new staff member. He introduces you but you can see the distain in her eyes as she nods you off. Feeling uneasy you walk over to your girlfriend who chirps up when you walk towards her.

You force a shaky smile, being fully aware of how much of your skin was showing in the outfit Rosé chose, pulling it down every few seconds. She takes your hand in hers, a concerned pair of eyes baring into yours, "Home...?"

A fond smile finds its way onto your face. She only asked when she was worried if you felt comfortable or not and would act according to your answer. You shake your head as the manager serves you your drinks, offering you his apologies about his employee. The singer's eyes shoot back to you but you wave off the concern.

You think it will get better at the bookstore. For a moment, there's a sense of bliss as you and your girlfriend roam around, laughing at certain titles, and offering one another a few recommendations.

You notice the owner's daughter carefully watching you but there was no surprise to you there. It was something you'd grown used to over the years of living in South Korea but it wouldn't deter you from the day Rosé had planned.

You two walk out hand in hand after you checked out. You read the back to Rosé who was curious what you had picked up. "'...will Lucky be able to escape the regime forced onto her or will luck not be on her side this time...?' I don't know it sounded really cool when I picked it up."

She laughs before nodding along, "So...park or home, my love?"

You look up at her with a warm smile, "Rosie I'm fine, you don't need to worry about-"

"Hey! Stop!" Your words are cut off, you and Rosé turn around surprised at the angry young woman, practically gasping for air. Your girlfriend raises a curious brow while dread sets into your stomach. "You didn't pay for that!"

You open your mouth to explain when she shakes her head disappointed, "I watched you the whole time! Not once did you hand that to any staff member. I had a feeling when you walked in something would happen." She pries the book out of your hands and shoves your shoulder. Your eyes jot everywhere at once, panic filling you as a crowd begins to form. "How dare you try and steal from my father, you know your people have always-"

Rosé steps between the two of you with a piece of paper in her hands, "I paid for both books myself, you can see for yourself." The woman, recognizing the idol, lets her jaw hang open and eyes bulge to an alarming degree. Her hands tremble as she takes the receipt, reading it quickly before handing it back, offering the idol a low bow.

Without another word, Rosé wraps her arm around you and she guides you away from the now-dispersing scene. She taps your waist gently, before whispering, "Home?"

You nod, tears flooding your eyes, "Home."

She nods before quickly walking back to the safety of your shared apartment with her blood boiling. But she would get it all out later, in her own time. She knew that she needed to be strong for you, even for a moment.

Lalisa Manoban / Lisa

Lisa was absolutely bouncing off the walls to call you her girlfriend...that the most amazing, kind, intelligent, talented, and gorgeous being chose her. While you think you're the one who lucked out with her, she actively denied it.

In that spirit, she wanted to show you off constantly. In public appearances, you two were attached at the hip. You were always permitted backstage at the group's concerts. And most of all, once your relationship was made public, she bragged about her beloved girlfriend on social media.

It was innocent at first. Wanting Blinks to get a glimpse into her personal life, but then it became a whole PR thing for the company. Green lighting and excusing their actions by showing off that one of the company's aces, Lisa Manoban, was all about people of color so that excused all their actions.

However, that didn't stop Blinks who weren't on board to come after you and Lisa.

It was meant to be a romantic night, Lisa drew you a bath for the both of you when you got home, cooked you a nice hot meal, and played the romcom you watched for your first date.

It was a lovely evening. But it did come with a lot of preparation, so the moment the meet-cute for the couple in the movie rolled around your girlfriend was sound asleep on your shoulder. You smile fondly and see your phone light up.

A notification on Instagram.

You smile warmly as you see a post by Lisa. She had uploaded a time lapse of the bits of the evening that were appropriate and posted it for her fans to enjoy. You cringe to yourself as you see your surprised face when you see the meal she had prepared, but a loving smile grows from the sour face when you see the elation in her expression. Arms wide open for you to fall into.

By the end of the video, you've pulled Lisa closer to your body, gaining extra appreciation for your beloved. You see the likes and shares sky-rocket and feel the love from her fans.

But curiosity killed the cat. It was Lisa's number one rule about social media posts with you in them to not go through the comments. As an idol, she knew how toxic they could get. You scrolled through the text, it was sweet for the most part. Commenting how you were so happy with one another.

But those weren't the ones that stood out to you.

no one ever told me lisa got a pet gorilla 🤣

she's using lisa for clout, chick probably doesnt even shower probably, look how smelly she looks 🫥🫥🫥

🤮🤮🤮

@lalalalisa blink twice in your next story if you're being held hostage by this n-word (im sorry but im not writing the whole word)

They echo in your head and before you know it tears are streaming down your cheeks. The realization that you were probably in over your head. What was Lisa doing with someone like you anyway?

Feeling the dampness of your tears on her cheek, Lisa groggily lifts her head. Try as you may to hide it, she was wide awake when she saw the weepy look on your face. She's quick to brush the residuals away and her sleepy expression twinges into one of concern.

"Baby...baby...what happened? What-"

"I know you told me not to look at comments but I couldn't help it...and-and..." Your voice failed you and you fell into fits of sobs, unable to properly convey your emotions. Without another word, she takes you in her arms, brushing your hair back.

You calm down after a while, choking on air as you try to breath. Lisa patiently waits for you to be completely fine before she pulls away. She looks down at the bright screen and tosses the device to the side.

The dancer cups your cheeks, "I don't blame you, sometimes you want to know what they're going to say...so that when they say it again, it can't hurt you." She chuckles bitterly before continuing, "When I first came to Korea, I was the only trainee who wasn't Korean in the batch. They called me every name in the book, made fun of my accent, said that I was probably a transgender trying to pass as a woman."

You scowl before taking her free hand. "I'm sorry you had to go through that Lili..." A protective aura floating around you. Lisa shakes her head, whether its to say 'no' or to shake out the tears is a mystery to you. "People are shitty for no reason other than to feel superior to others."

She pauses, leaving a lingering kiss over your lips before pulling away, the pad of her thumb rubbing against your cheek lovingly. "But no matter what these people say, I love you. Despite everything people may think. I. Love. You."

You smile before nodding and pressing your forehead against hers, your grip on her hand tightening. "I'm lucky to have you, Lili."

"I'm even luckier, N/n."

The rest of the night was dedicated to you two talking about your experiences and feelings about them.

By morning, comments were disabled and a story defending you was posted. Suffice to say, Lisa made a personal account for just you and her friends.

i am so scared of posting this because sincerely i dont want to offend anyone but i do think it's important for media like this on a more informal platform to open up about how to and not to treat situations like this. i hope this got across what my anon wanted :"") and i hope you all enjoyed this one and i'll probably see you all tomorrow with a fluffier oneshot, im sorry this is how i returned to tumblr :"") - r

[dndadscharacterpolls]

Hello there ! I'm Aether (it/its) ! You can find me on my main, @justablah56 I just thought it'd be fun to have dndads specific polls, so why not do it myself ?

this post will be constantly updating , so if you want to keep up with what's happening make sure to check in here every once in a while !

all current poll information will be above the cut, and then general rules for this account in general will be below :]

the current poll is favorite character headcanon

CURRENT ROUND : ROUND 2

everyone with the Scam Likely voice is related to the Likelys (ex. bleeding elf) vs Terry Jr never learned to drive after rolling a nat 1 at the end of s1

Lark and Grant's Top Secret Fight Club vs Ron is a furry

Grant and Marco met online playing video games together vs Ron doesn't believe in WiFi

bi4bi Carol and Daryl but they're in denial about it vs genderfluid Hermie

Henry, ordained minister of the Church of Life, officiated Marco/Grant's wedding vs adhd Normal

Nicky is biologically related to all three parents (Jodie, Glenn, and Morgan) vs autistic Hermie

Lark has an amethyst that Mercedes gifted him vs Glenn and Morgan gave each other stick and poke tattoos and all of Glenn's disappeared after the trial

disabled Taylor vs genderfluid Scam

Gerry is named after Grant and Terry Jr vs Terry Jr is fluent in French bcs Terry Sr immigrated from France

arospec Lincoln vs Lark keeps his hair short out of paranoia

Scary uses stamp-on eyeliner bcs she can't do winged eyeliner herself vs aro Taylor

Daryl and Carol go to couples counseling post s1, but end up amicably divorcing vs polycule teens

Carol and Darryl get divorced post s1 but still live together out of convenience vs Normal needs glasses but doesn't know it

Glenn struggled with self harm after being in prison, specifically scratching at phantom shackles on his wrists vs autistic Normal

genderfluid Glenn vs Nicky heavily considered erasing one of the timelines from his memory with the memory syringes when they were younger

Henry got Vine famous due to Rock Rock and then got famous on TikTok where he has a gardening series in addition to his Rocks Rock series vs Jewish Stamplers

Daryl thinks Slim Shady and Eminem are two different people vs transmasc Normal

Gerry was Scary and Linc's wedding gift from Scam vs t4t oakworthy

autistic Linc vs Bill Close was/is a coke-head

Terry Jr had a goth phase in highschool vs ocd Grant

Taylor's sword cane is a mobility aid vs he/they Sparrow

queerplatonic married gothcleats vs Nicky loves cats even though he's allergic to them

transmasc Nicky vs t4t hencedes

Terry Jr has sandy blonde hair bcs he bleaches and dyes it vs Sparrow has chronic nightmares about Lark dying

demisexual Glenn vs t4t Nicky/Cassandra

Nicky goes by Nick Freeman after his mom as an adult vs the Swallows-Oak-Garcias stay with Henry for a bit after their house burned down

Sparrow had to come out as cishet bcs everybody else is some sort of queer vs Sparrow is the older twin

each poll will have 3 days of submissions, and then each round will last a day. then there will be one day of break, and then the next day there'll be another poll to pick the next competition and so on and so forth :3

poll submissions are always open , so if at any time you have a poll you'd think would be fun feel free to send it in !

any poll we've done previously is fair game , there are quite literally no limits for what polls you can submit , so send in your ideas !

current poll submissions :

aroallo

ace

best Daryl fact

best Lincoln fact

best Scary fact

best Taylor fact

best Jodie fact

coolest npc name

favorite s2 episode

favorite niche/unpopular ship

best s1 arc

favorite song intro

biggest saddest eyes

propaganda is 100% welcome ! feel free to send an ask or bribe via art requests, and if you make a post just tag me and I'll reblog it here tagged with " *poll* propaganda" if your propaganda is in a reblog , make sure you write it on the post rather than the tags if you want it reblogged here !

I don't just post polls on this acc ! I also reblog fanart , fandom events , and other polls including dndads characters! for fanart I use the tags "not a poll" and "fanart" , for events I use "fandom events" , and for other polls I use the tag "not my polls" , so if either of those are things you don't want to see , feel free to block those tags :]

Previous polls (as of our come back in February ! )

best Normal Fact : ep29 - he is the most published author in the teen high fanfiction tag on ao3

favorite headcanon : Taylors sword cane is his mobility aid for his balance issues that come and go

best Glenn fact : Glenn still considers himself married to Morgan even though she's dead

best npc : Terry Jr Stampler

best non-song intro: ep27 - Glenn and Ron on shark tank for the elevator button

funniest npc name : Sexcallibur Horsepower

if you want to know who won what before the hiatus , you can find those here !

if you have any questions about the blog in general or anything else , feel free to send in an ask and I'll do my best to answer it !

[science-lings]

I've been thinking a lot about Phoenix's family, and I got carried away so I'm going to put the whole essay below the cut, I'm so normal about him

I'm sorry there's just no way that Phoenix has any sort of normal family situation, not just because they're never mentioned even in passing as he goes through extremely major life events, but also because of how he is as a person. You cannot convince me that the guy who fell head over heels for Dahlia two seconds after meeting her had any sort of reliable support system in his life. When she got arrested the only person he could think about was a guy he hadn't seen since they were both nine instead of any current person who would likely care that he almost got poisoned and arrested for murder.

While I think it would be nice if he had lesbian moms who loved him, it just doesn't quite fit in with what we know about Phoenix. I mean, even in the WAA/WTA the only photograph on display is Zak's, and if there isn't a better person to put on the wall than the biological father of his daughter who abandoned her, that's pretty sad. (though I personally like to think that his portrait was there specifically as a target for things like darts and throwing knives). Plus, we already know from the thing with Dahlia that Phoenix's primary way of dealing with trauma and abusive people is just to pretend nothing happened and force himself to forget about them.

That's not even mentioning this guy's abandonment issues and complete willingness to adopt anyone he finds into his found family with zero hesitation. He meets Ema once for a few days, someone he has no personal connection to, but because she reminded him of Maya he stays in contact with her at some capacity to the point that he keeps her investigative tools with him and can have his name be used to gain her favor. Also, there's that new years art where she gets drunk with the Wright's and Apollo. And there are several more young adults/teenagers like that, he's got that foster kid to foster dad energy.

What I think makes the most sense is either that he was given up for adoption/ was an orphan in the foster care system who was passed around a lot, never getting too attached to one family, which led to his abandonment issues, or that he had a normal family life until something happened that estranged them from him. As a staunch believer in Transmasc Phoenix my thoughts are that he had transphobic parents so when he left for university he cut them off and changed his full name which explains why he is so desperate for emotional connection at that time. He suddenly has no one but a dream to find Miles and a girlfriend whose red flags he's completely blind to.

But honestly, there are so many reasons that people could come up with that would also make sense for his character. Maybe they were emotionally abusive and since everyone around him has dead or horrifically bad parents he's just not going to ever bring it up because who is he to complain when his besties are Maya Fey and Miles Edgeworth. Maybe they were just absent a lot and he had to take care of himself (and perhaps younger siblings) until he just couldn't take it anymore. Maybe they just tried to get him a girlfriend to settle down with one too many times and he just refuses to visit them, not even on holidays like Christmas or new years. It's just fascinating to me that there's absolutely nothing about them, I think there was even one of those little (official?) comics that poked fun at the fact that he doesn't really have parents, he may not even know who they are.

I also stand behind all of the ideas from my Phoenix Family HCs Poll because all of them would be so fun to explore even if some of them are total crack HCs. Tigre is only 16 years older than Phoenix but you can't say it's not possible that he messed around in high school and his girlfriend just gave up the kid for adoption and it would be so funny if Phoenix had to put his own father into prison after he pretended to be him.

In my Fem!Phoenix AU where I'm planning on expounding upon her relationship with the Feys and her own spiritual power (Phoenix does canonically talk to ghosts sometimes), the spirit of Ryunosuke found her and kind of became her imaginary friend who appears sometimes because I love him.

Even the idea of the goddess of law making him as an indestructible little terror on the legal system would be fascinating to expand upon. I would love to read about the whole concept of law being turned into a kind of religion, is she a single omniscient god (is she single?) or is she part of a larger pantheon? What would that mean for Phoenix?

I just can't even fathom that there's something normal going on with Phoenix and his family, I think he should pull an Apollo and secretly have the most batshit family backstory. Just looking at this guy and you know he has some kinds of issues, he was an art/theater major, he's got to be a little bit of that flavor of fucked up.

[sineala]

What are your thoughts on the run that completely rewrote Tony’s origin so that he wasn’t Howard and Maria’s biological son? Is that still the current origin story they’re going with?

Thanks for asking! This is still Tony's current origin story and I hate it. I think it was poorly thought-out and that every subsequent thing Marvel has done to attempt to address it has somehow made it worse. I think they've managed to tell an incredibly upsetting and unpleasant story, portraying adoption in an extremely negative light, that has pretty much only made life worse for Tony and not even in a way that's narratively interesting.

I have some salt about this, yes.

I'm not against adoption retcons in general, and I'm not against retconning character backgrounds. I get the impression it was unpopular but I really liked the retcon of Carol's background a couple years ago in the Life of Captain Marvel miniseries by Margaret Stohl -- instead of her being a human given powers by the Psyche-Magnitron, she was revealed to have been secretly half-Kree, and the device merely catalyzed her latent powers. Her mother was secretly Kree and Carol never knew. The miniseries actually had a really nice scene of her and Tony talking about families, because understandably Carol (also now Car-Ell because, yes, she has a Kree name) now had a lot of complicated feelings. Kelly Thompson's Captain Marvel run continued to explore the implications of this, as Carol found out that she actually had Kree relatives. So Carol's got a new half-sister, Lauri-Ell, and they were immediately thrown into a situation where Carol had to defend her and believe in her and it was great and also now they're friends. Well, family. Friendly family. I think Lauri-Ell was probably the best thing about Thompson's Captain Marvel run and I'm honestly really glad Marvel went there.

Tony didn't get anything like that.

As far as I know, the way Kieron Gillen approached his Iron Man run was by not doing the reading and then completely winging it. And while winging it isn't inherently bad, it did mean that not only did he not know where he was going, he didn't know what had come before. That, combined with the fact that a lot of comics writers want to "make their mark" on a famous character meant that he was probably wanting to go for something big. Hence, adoption. Which, again, isn't inherently a bad idea; it can definitely give characters a lot to explore. It's a little odd as a choice for Tony who as far as we know is Howard and Maria's biological son in every other universe in the multiverse; there's no motivation given for why 616 should be different, and off the top of my head I can't name any other characters who only differ cross-universe in adoption status, although now that I think about it I bet there are probably some universes where other people raised Peter Parker.

Also "Arno" is a really odd name choice for Tony's brother. I get that Gillen was pulling the name of a future relative from the original Iron Man 2020 issues, which if you're gonna read one thing is a deeply weird thing to pick. I remember people asking him why he didn't name Tony's brother Greg. Ultimates is a universe where Tony in fact has a brother named Greg. That would have at least made some sort of multiversal sense. Apparently Gillen just… hadn't known Greg existed. Great.

Okay. So you're gonna tell a story about adoption. You're going to reveal that a beloved character has been secretly adopted all along and no one knew. What are you going to get out of it? What are you going to accomplish? Here are some possible choices. You could tell a story that's inspirational and representational to fans who are themselves adopted or have adopted children, because now their hero is just like them. You could tell a story about how Howard and Maria adopting Tony meant he was very much loved and wanted, because they consciously chose him and made him a part of their family. You could tell a story about how Tony, who has been an orphan for a very long time, has suddenly discovered that he has living family -- a brother, as well as his biological parents. You'd be giving him more people in his story, more people who could care about him, and I think you could tell a lot of interesting stories about Tony's new family dynamics. He could have had family who loved him, or at least hung around to interact with him -- Tony's only other relative we've ever seen, his cousin Morgan, hasn't been in an Iron Man comic in years, and also usually tries to kill him. But they could have taken this opportunity to make some changes. Imagine! Tony with a bigger family! Who cares about him.

That's not what Marvel did.

The reason Howard and Maria adopted Tony was that they needed a decoy son who was not their biological son (Arno) so that the alien who had genetically modified Arno wouldn't realize that Howard had undone his work. So that's why they adopted Tony. It wasn't because they wanted him specifically, loved him, wanted to give him a family, any of that -- they just needed a decoy. And in that light, the fact that Howard didn't love Tony looks even worse. Now it's not just "I never loved you," it's "I never loved you and I only ever wanted you to fulfill this weird plan I had going with an alien." Now you're telling the story "of course I never loved you, Tony; you're adopted." (And then he tries to sell Tony to Dracula.)

And that's… not a great look. Sure, not all stories have to be positive, but superheroes usually have some kind of relatable backstory, and it's easy for people to want to relate to them, and I feel like maybe you want to think a little harder before writing Tony as adopted when his childhood was already terrible and his family hated him. It could have been a really nice story about families of choice and how much Tony's adoptive family loved and wanted Tony. And it wasn't. Because Howard had been established for years as having been abusive. A story about a toxic adoptive family is not really great representation. "I never loved you" was pretty bad but "you're adopted and I never loved you," I think, sounds a lot worse.

You do also lose some plot elements by retconning Tony as adopted, namely anything having to do with him having a genetic relationship to Howard and Maria. And for the most part this isn't going to be relevant, but now you can't really easily tell a story about Tony inheriting alcoholism or general addiction or depression or whatever from his father. (I mean, you still can if you really want to; you'd just have to establish this as being true of his biological parents. But Marvel has not done that and does not really seem all that likely to start, because that would require putting them in comics and they're not doing that anymore.)

After Kieron Gillen left the book, Bendis came on. And I know Bendis' kids are adopted so I can understand why he'd want to tackle the adoption plot and really flesh out Tony's family. So a large portion of Bendis' IM run was about Tony's quest for, and eventual discovery of, his biological family. At the time, I figured this might actually be a good plot -- if they're not going to retcon out the adoption, they might as well lean in. I was looking forward to having Tony meet his family. The guy could definitely use more family, and I thought it would be great to see him interacting with them and developing new relationships.

That also didn't happen.

So what about all his new family members? His adoptive brother Arno? His biological mother and father?

Well, actually, they hate him too. All of them!

Arno went evil, is currently evil, tried to take down Tony, and is now trapped in VR or something. (To be fair, this wasn't Bendis' fault; Dan Slott did this in the subsequent run.)

Jude, Tony's biological father, is a Hydra agent who tried to kill Tony's mother. He met Tony once. He also tried to kill him. (This one was Bendis' fault.)

Amanda, Tony's biological mother, is a rock star and SHIELD agent who decided that now that Tony was living in a constructed, non-original body… he was no longer her son. And she wanted nothing else to do with him. She hasn't been back; yes, this was also Dan Slott's work. This is both cruel and bizarre because this is definitely not Tony's first brand-new body. If he's going to be dead to her because this isn't his original body, then he's been dead since at least Onslaught. If this was going to be a problem for her, it should already have been a problem as soon as she met him.

(That was one of the big issues for me with Slott's entire run in that a lot of it was about Tony having a crisis that he maybe wasn't really Tony because he had a new body. I was just like, dude, where have you been? Why is this only a problem now?)

So now Tony, who was already abused by his adoptive father, has discovered three new members of his family, all of whom also hate him!

Anyway, basically the only family Tony had who loved him was Maria. At least he had her, I guess.

So what's the point, really? He has more people to hate him. If you're going to give him new family, couldn't you give him one person who at least likes him? Carol has a retconned half-sister now, who loves her. Why couldn't Tony have something like that?

It's not even interesting pain, for Tony. This isn't anything different than what he already had. It just involves more characters now. They had the chance to use the adoption arc to really transform Tony's life and give him a whole new family to interact with and tell a story about choice and family and being loved and wanted. Instead, he has three new family members who hate him and who probably won't be appearing again anytime soon anyway. What did this even accomplish? What do we get? A story about how, once again, none of Tony's family loves him, that even more of them exist and they hate him too, that his adoptive family abused him, that's probably going to make adopted kids reading these comics feel pretty bad. I don't think this is really an accomplishment.

In conclusion… uh… this is me complaining about the adoption retcon to @blossomsinthemist while I was trying to figure out how to write this post:

Sineala: they never loved him but now they REALLY never loved him and also here's his biological family who never loved him either Sineala: i mean, i'm not opposed to giving tony more family but maybe they could… not hate him Sineala: i feel like tony should marry into a large and affectionate family Sineala: …actually, this is basically the avengers Sineala: never mind, he already did Sineala: if you don't have your own loving family, store-bought is fine

So, yeah. That's where I stand.

[firesnap]

i hate how toxic my mind is being, it’s firmly in the denial stage despite objectively knowing all the facts, and watching the vod, and i keep waking up and thinking it was a weird dream i had. worse, the denial is not being very feminist bc while i 100% believe shelby and do Not think she’s lying at all, and I 100% think she should have come forward to share her story as she did, and i think it sets a good example for her viewers and for culture of staying silent in general, I still keep hoping it’s actually all made up or that the stream never happened and she said nothing and we all lived in blissful ignorance. i think this is karma for not understanding why others had similar extreme reactions when the same sorta thing happened to their fave celeb. i’d never state any of these rather cruel thoughts as any sort of fact or truth but i still feel guilty that i have them and i still feel bad that i still wish they were the case, bc it is all just very self-centered. tldr: :(

I really need to acknowledge something that Bee said along the lines of "thought crimes aren't real as long as you recognize and still support Shelby despite your conflicted feelings." Like that's really the base of it, you know?

You can't control how you feel but the internet these days pushes such a weird idea that if you don't have the 'right' emotional response to something you're a terrible person. There were so many people that first day, when fans were grappling with the truth and grieving the loss of community, acting like that anything other than righteous anger was the wrong response. It wasn't. Shelby wanted us to take her warnings, but she also wanted to cut the support this guy was getting for a facade. People grieving and coming to terms with that part of it was a huge part of supporting Shelby.

It's okay to have messy feelings about a guy you supported for so long. I had long, long conversations with some of my closest friends that first day where we swung wildly between believing it, because we KNEW it was true, and sorta going back and forth about what if's.

It's just important to not choose to live in ignorance. You're not a self-centered for having those feelings, it's about how you respond to the actual situation at hand, and I can tell you're acknowledging what happened and choosing to not ignore it for your self-comfort. Everything you're going through is normal and you're trying your best.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 13: Life Is Full of ”What If’s”

Summary:  Arthur struggles with whether or not he should tell you how he feels about you.

Warnings:  Swearing and angst

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*I found this image on Pintrest, posted by ‘rafa’. I’m obsessed with their pins, btw. You totally need to check them out. 

The next morning after your day of drinking with Karen at the saloon, you feel dreadful. The only thing worse than your queasy stomach is the pounding in your head. You manage to get yourself together enough to drag your ragged self to the coffee pot for some much-needed "black gold". You have spent the morning with the girls, and in the process of discussing your current physical state, it has eventually come out within your small circle that you are majorly sweet on Arthur. Not that it was a surprise to any of them, but now that your not-so-secret is out, the young women quickly pounce on the idea. And the girls are all aflutter with coming up with a plan to get you and Arthur together.

But sadly, your heart isn't as excited as they are. While the romantic idea of calling Arthur yours is beautiful, you still carry strong doubts about it ever becoming a reality. And last night only fueled that notion even further. You had made a move of your own on Arthur last night, making it pretty clear to him (or so you thought) how you feel. But rather than returning your affection, he simply got up and walked out of your tent.

"Wait...he did what, now?" asks Abigail, a look of confusion coming across her face as she holds her hand up to interrupt you so that she can grasp what you've just told her.

You sigh, embarrassed to admit that you practically threw yourself at a man and got rejected. "I smiled, told him he was sweet. I kissed his cheek and leaned in for a kiss...and nothing." You wave your hand before letting it fall helplessly into your lap with a shrug. "He just got up and left." The memory of your pathetic amorous attempt at flirting snaps back to your mind and it makes you cringe inside all over again. You never really were good at that sort of thing.

"Well, that's your problem right there, (Y/N). You kissed the wrong part of the man," snickers Karen, swatting your arm.

"Oh, (Y/N), maybe he was just tired, you know? Maybe he wasn't feeling too well?" offers Mary-Beth, trying to make you feel better.

But you just shake your head, not buying her explanation. "Its always been my experience that if a man wants you, he'll take you up on your offer, regardless of how 'tired' he is."

But Abigail simply sits, still pondering, the gears turning in her head. She knows Arthur well, too well, in fact. Almost as well as Hosea. "Hmmm...no, somethin' ain't right, here. I can't believe that Arthur ain't interested. Gotta be more to the story than that, (Y/N)."

"What if you-" starts Tilly, but you quickly cut her off, causing her face to startle with astonishment. "You know what?", you say sharply, "I really don't want to talk about this right now. Arthur is making my head pound more than it already is. Can we please just talk about something else, girls? Please? At least until I got my head on straight?" you plead to your friends. The rest of the girls fall silent, looking from you to each other with awkward glances. The girls finally have some juicy tid-bits to gossip over and yet they have just been hushed to silence. But you have no doubt that as soon as you leave their company, the full discussions will begin. And in a small camp like this, you wince a bit at the idea of how fast this news will spread. You really need to pull Arthur aside at some point and discuss this, to do some damage control and try to head it off before the gossip gets out of control. But what is it that you want to tell Arthur? That you're sorry for embarrassing yourself last night, or that you actually have feelings for him?

After you finish your coffee, you slowly meander back to your tent to pull out anything in need of washing for the laundry today. The fatigue from your hangover is heavy in your joints, but there is still work to be done, as always. As you gather up a few articles of clothing, the girls' conversations are lingering in your mind and it dawns on you that you haven't even seen Arthur yet this morning. Taking a moment to look around the camp, you notice that everyone else seems to be as lethargic as you after last night's drinking festivities. But eventually, you find Arthur over by one of the tables with Hosea. You can't hear what they are talking about, but by the expressions on each of their faces, it looks like a pretty serious discussion. The mere sight of Arthur makes you blush in embarrassment and quickly look away, hoping to avoid any eye-contact. God, what were you thinking last night?! "Fucking idiot..." you mumble to yourself as you throw a few things into a basket and walk behind your tent towards the washing area, hoping not to draw any attention to yourself.

Over at the tables, Arthur and Hosea are still deep in a serious conversation, alright. And what you do not know is that the topic is about you.

"You need to do something about it soon, son. Because if you don’t, there’s surely others who will," Hosea warns in earnest, yet soft-spoken and serene. "And with a girl like that," as he motions towards your tent with his tea cup in-hand, "it won’t take long to happen."

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Hosea's, a shadow of pain held behind those blue orbs. "That's just it, Hosea. I think it already has," says Arthur in disappointment.

"What are you goin' on about now?" asks Hosea.

Arthur lets out a long sigh before he continues, as he's a bit uncomfortable talking about this sort of thing. "Apparently, (Y/N) met someone in town yesterday when she was with Karen. And by the sounds of it, he's quite the catch," says Arthur sarcastically with an eye roll to accompany it.

Hosea narrows his eyes at Arthur. Arthur always does this. He's got more excuses as to why he either can't, or won't, allow himself some sort of happiness for himself. And, a few weeks ago, when Arthur was seriously hurt after that payroll robbery (the one that was meant for Rosewood, the town where you came from when Arthur first found you), Hosea watched as you carefully tended to Arthur's wounds, desperate to keep him alive. He had asked you then if you had feelings for Arthur, and you all but admitted that you did. But, you insisted that Hosea not say anything. At the time, you had no idea how you wanted to handle the notion of being with Arthur. So in order to avoid creating a possible divide between the two of you, you convinced Hosea to remain silent, forcing him to give you his word. And despite being a seasoned outlaw, Hosea's word is his bond.

"How do you know this?" asks Hosea suspiciously, coming back to the current conversation.

"I heard 'em talkin' this mornin' about it, the whole group of 'em over there," he motions towards the wagon where you and the girls were a bit ago.

Hosea mulls over this new information for a moment, tapping his finger on the side of his tea cup. "Well, it ain't like they're married yet. Don't mean nothin' til a ring is on her finger," he advises. But Arthur just rolls his eyes, yet again. "Might as well be," he sulks.

As for you on the other side of camp, you try your best to attempt the washing, but the rocking motion of leaning over the washboard and tub and scrubbing the clothing makes you even more sick to your stomach. Thankfully, Ms. Grimshaw shows you some mercy and allows you to go over to your med tent and work there. You are not the only one feeling the after-effects of alcohol this morning, so you set yourself to the task of prepping fresh ginger-root for the nausea and fever-few tea for the headaches for those who need it. And, there are quite a few who do. Even Dutch eventually makes his way over to you, almost begging for you to put him out of his misery.

After you look after everyone else, you spend the rest of the late morning and afternoon taking it easy and lazing about, managing your hangover. Lucky for you, Ms. GrimsHaw takes pity on you and pretty much leaves you alone. 'Maybe she's starting to hate me less,' you joke to yourself as you lay curled up on your side on your cot, your arm folded under your head like a pillow.

By dinnertime, you slowly make your way to the tables to eat. You have little appetite, but fortunately, Mr. Pearson has had the foresight to make a simple soup and fresh bread for dinner. You grab yourself a bowl and small hunk of bread and turn to find yourself a seat. You look to your usual spot, but find that Arthur is not there. He usually sits next to, or at least near you during the meals when he is in camp. In fact, now that you think about it, you haven't seen him all day. You've been too caught up in your lingering discomfort all day to notice until now. Looking around, you see that he has already grabbed himself a bowl and is tucked away inside his tent, keeping to himself and writing in his journal. You'd go over there to join him, but whenever Arthur stows away inside his tent with his journal like this, he does not like to be disturbed. It seems that he is clearly keeping to himself for a reason. You cast your eyes down to your bowl, nibbling on your lip a bit before reluctantly moving to sit in your spot at the table across from Abigail and Jack. Abigail looks up from her own bowl of food and watches you absentmindedly stir your spoon in your bowl, indifferent and playing with the contents, clearly distracted. "Everything alright, (Y/N)?" she asks you, a small questioning smile crossing her lips. "Oh yeah, fine", you reassure her. "Just not too hungry yet after last night," giving her a weak smile in return. Occasionally, you look up and over at Arthur's tent, stealing a few glances here and there as you try to eat, but he seems to be unaffected by the new distance between you two as he never once looks up to meet your gaze. Odd, seeing as you often catch him looking at you, even off at a distance.

After the meal and the dishes are washed, everyone gathers about the main fire again for another evening, but this time everyone is more relaxed than drunk. You eagerly scuttle closer to the flames, desperate for the comfort of their warmth. The heat of the fire seeps into your tired muscles and a wave of relief rushes over you. You look about at the attendants of tonight's fire, and yet again, you notice that Arthur is not in the group's attendance. Glancing about, you see him standing over by the horses with Charles. They are brushing down their respective mounts, occasionally exchanging a few words, but doesn't look like anything too important is happening over there.

And suddenly, you get a sinking feeling in your stomach that Arthur is strategically avoiding you now. This is what you were afraid of. This is exactly what you had told Karen yesterday at the saloon. 'I'd rather know him and be friends, than try to be together and have him hate or resent me', you had told her. What if he really is mad at you now? But you quickly admonish yourself for such self pity. 'We're friends, damn it. Surely, we can talk about it and he can let me at least apologize for acting so stupidly? I'll blame it on the booze.' You take a deep breath as you have this internal conversation with yourself and decide that you'll talk to him first thing in the morning. You'll just leave him be for now, let yourself fully recover from your hangover, and you'll handle it in the morning and get everything straightened out. You're fine. He'll be fine. It'll all be fine. You'll fix it tomorrow...or so you hope.

But the next morning, you wake up to discover that Arthur isn't around. Apparently he left to do some "collecting" for Strauss, and a few other errands that need attention. "He left early this morning," Charles tells you when you ask of Arthur's whereabouts. (You figure if Arthur is talking to anyone right now, its Charles.) "He left just before dawn, before anyone was even awake. I was on watch into the morning and saw him head out." You slowly close your eyes, letting your head hang back in frustration, as your hands land on your hips. You suppose it shouldn't be much of a surprise that Arthur is gone already. Every few days he's sent out for one damn thing or another. The poor man can't get a moment's peace around here. "You OK, (Y/N)? asks Charles, his brows knit in concern.

"Perfect...just perfect," you mutter.

---------------------------

After shaking down some unpaid debts, then checking out the local butcher who Hosea suspects is stealing cattle and reselling it to the ranchers, plus collecting a quick and easy bounty, Arthur is in town picking up some personal items for a few of the gang members by request. He was happy to have the distraction, and now with his obligations met, he figures his horse, Buck, could use some love as well. So he decides to take him over to the local farrier to get his hooves looked after. They've been all over this God forsaken country lately, trudging over rocky terrain and sandy soil. Buck has tripped up on his own feet more than a few times, so Arthur decides to treat him to some fine attention.

"This one's a real stud, ain't he?" the local farrier asks, running his hands down Buck's coat in admiration. "He's a fine specimen, mister."

Arthur beams proudly as he looks over his most prized possession. "Yeah, he is. I don't know what I'd without 'em,"  he agrees, rubbing his hands along the sides of Buck's face. The animal nickers softly, nosing into Arthur's pockets to possibly find a treat of some kind.

Arthur then steps back and out of the way to let the farrier do his job. While he’s waiting outside the farrier's barn, he leans his shoulder into the door casing, crossing his arms over his chest lazily, and casually glances around the open space of the town, absentmindedly watching the people going about their business in the streets. Its a sunny day today, the air picking up hints of the leaves in the trees starting to turn for the onset of autumn. The town is filled with residents out and about, taking advantage of the good weather. 

Arthur eventually takes notice of a young family coming out of the general store across the way. The brood consists of a man and his wife with their two young children, maybe seven and five years old, pretty much around Jack's age. Upon closer examination, the husband isn’t much younger than Arthur. Arthur watches with curiosity as the man helps his wife with her packages, while also trying to reel-in their two children who are running circles around them. Both parents laugh at the playfulness of their young ones, watching them chase each other around. It’s a happy sight, rare for these parts it seems. The man lifts his children into the back of their wagon, then finally helps his wife onto the driving bench, kissing her hand as he does so.

Watching this scene, Arthur’s mind involuntarily drifts to thoughts of you. He imagines the two of you together, a family like this one. He envisions you smiling at him as he places the young child you'd have together on your lap while he loads the last of the goods to head back to your quiet cabin home that the two of you would build, nestled safely away from the harsh life that you live now. He can clearly see your beautiful face in his mind's eye, looking up at him so adoringly. He imagines you leaning into his side as he grabs the reins of the horse-drawn wagon. He reaches down to place a gentle kiss atop his child's head before placing one along your temple. He snaps the reins to start the wagon lurching into a slow, languid, and unrushed movement; all cares and worries left behind in the collecting dust of the wagon-wheels.

A sharp clanking sound of the anvil behind him within the barn from the farrier snaps Arthur out of his foolish daydream, and he slightly shakes his head to restore himself back to his reality. He clears his throat and quickly scolds himself, looking down at his feet. It’s been a long time since he’s had such thoughts of domestic bliss. The last time he let his mind wander like this was when he was with Mary. And admittedly, it wasn’t pictured nearly as wonderful as this. And he had loved her. But look how that turned out. Its too risky to think such things. Even if the two of you could ever leave this outlaw life together, you surely wouldn’t have him. Arthur's convinced of it. Not when you could have any man you wanted. Would you?

Arthur gives pause to this for a moment. He keeps hearing Hosea's voice in his head. Two days ago, you and Karen had gone into this very town for a drink, or many drinks as it turned out, and in the process, you had met someone. Apparently, from what Arthur gathers, this other man had made quite the impression on you. But, later that same night, you and Arthur had a 'moment', as it were, in your tent. Arthur believed at the time that whatever it was that transpired between the two of you was merely a result of a combination of your inebriation and affections for this new man. But Hosea wasn't so sure and was quite insistent that Arthur talk to you about it.

The gruff outlaw has to admit, the two of you do share a connection. You are both quite comfortable in each other’s company. And for the first time in a very, very long time Arthur could actually envision himself being with someone again and possibly being happy. For you do make him happy. You aren't even together as a proper couple as it is now, and yet, he is happiest when he's with you. Maybe? Just maybe? What if Hosea is right?

With his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, Arthur decides that when he returns to camp, this may be the time to finally tell you how he feels about you. Its been getting harder and harder to deny it. He flat-out admitted it to Hosea the other day, so its only a matter of time before everyone in camp knows anyway. Things like this tend to spread like poison ivy through a thicket. Arthur's mind races and his heart beats faster at the idea of it. He rolls his fingers into the palms of his hands, as they begin to sweat just a bit now. Its a gamble, that's for sure. A cocky grin begins to take hold of his weathered face as his hand comes up to rub his chin in thought, his thick forefinger dragging slowly across his lips. Then, he suddenly takes notice of himself and realizes that he is looking pretty ragged these days. His beard is getting scratchy and his hair needs a trim and a good washing. He looks over at the barber shop and decides that if he's going to do this, he needs to do it right. Best foot forward and such. You deserve that much, at least.

He turns his attention back inside the barn to the smith. "Hey, Mister, keep an eye on my boy, here, would ya?," he says with a quick nod towards Buck. "I got some things I gotta take care of real quick."

"Sure thing, friend," says the farrier with a grin and a little wave. Arthur pats Buck's hind quarters before walking out of the barn and makes his way over to the barber's place to get cleaned up with a shave and a haircut.

"Shit, maybe I'll even fit in a bath," he muses to himself with a swagger.

---------------------

The whole ride home, Arthur is a nervous wreck. He runs over and over again in his mind what he so desperately wants to say to you. Should he take you somewhere to talk about this in private? Or should he catch you in your tent and just come right out with it? Oddly, the closer he gets to camp, he is more excited than nervous. 'That's gotta be a good sign, right?' he asks himself. This is something that Arthur has been thinking over for awhile now and the idea of confessing his adoration for you just seems like the absolute right thing to do.

Arthur heads in to camp and quickly gets Buck squared away. Turning about to face the main camp, his eyes instantly search for you. Soon, his ears pick up on a melody floating through the stillness from somewhere in camp. He wanders through the tents and tables, gravitating towards the heavenly sound, and he realizes as he gets closer to it that its you. A huge smile dances across the outlaw's lips as he picks up his pace to find the source.

As he comes around the corner, unbeknownst to you, Arthur sees you sitting with Javier. You were feeling a bit down after Arthur left camp a few days ago, not knowing what you were going to do. You really weren't sure how you were going to handle this "thing" with Arthur. Javier had found you earlier in the day throwing the knife he had given you into a stump in frustration, hacking into the pulp of the wood with your blade. Sensing you needed some cheering up, Javier offered to distract you with trying to teach you to truly throw knives. "Give it here," he said, reaching over to take the knife from you. "If you're going to do it, let me show you how to do it properly." He figured throwing sharp objects at something would be a good stress relief for you, given your current countenance. You and Javier are good friends and you were grateful for his company. He quickly had you on your feet and was guiding your hands and arms, teaching you the proper stance, grip, and timing to hurl a knife like a weapon at a target. That was earlier today, and now, you and Javier are sitting by the fire, singing and playing music together.

From where he stands, Arthur listens, stunned and paralyzed by the sweet sound of your voice carrying through the air. He was looking forward to speaking with you, so to hear your voice shouldn't be such a shock to him. Plus, he's heard you sing before. It was quite the lovely surprise when he discovered yet another talent of yours; another touch of beauty that sits upon him like warm blanket enveloping around him. But somehow, the melody of your song wrapped around Javier's musical notes just does something to him this time. It is a sound so beautiful and fragile. He quietly walks over to Mr. Pearson's wagon, attempting to be inconspicuous to avoid drawing your attention and disrupting the eloquent sound. Arthur's walking pace eventually slows to a halt as he listens to you along with the others.

Your voice carries through the air, light and airy and beautifully hypnotic. The lyrics to your song tell of encouragement to one so downtrodden, and filled with love and empathy for someone struggling to find hope in the world.

When you've finished your song, you are not met with cheers or applause, but more of soft grins of approval from those who have been moved by your performance. Javier gives you a big smile as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, planting a friendly kiss upon your cheek. It is a gesture that certainly does not go unnoticed by Arthur, either. 

"Ah, mi Amor! We sound good together, no?" Javier says to you with a wink. "Yes, Javi, that we do," you agree with a grin, snuggling up under his arm a bit. Watching you and Javier together suddenly makes Arthur question his plan. How does he follow this with his own awkward expression of affection for you? What if you say 'no' after sitting with Javier?

"That was beautiful, (Y/N)," says Abigail, sitting off to the side of you, relaxing to the music.

"Thank you. Just something I’ve had rolling around in my head," you reply sheepishly, looking down at your hands folded in your lap. "Don't really know where it came from."  But Abigail knows exactly where it came from and who it’s about, too. Realizing this, she looks around for your muse and sees Arthur off in the distance, leaning against Pearson’s wagon with his arms crossed and head down with his hat pulled over his eyes. She gets up and walks over to the wagon to get herself a cup of coffee.

Abigail casually walks to the wagon and grabs the coffee pot to pour herself a fresh cup. “Beautiful, wasn’t it?” Abigail innocently asks Arthur, as she stands next to him, sipping the hot liquid.

"Mmhmm" is all that Arthur can reply with, not lifting his face at all to give Abigail any more of a response than that.  

“You know who she wrote that about don't you?”, Abigail lifts an eyebrow at Arthur.

“Abigail…just…don’t”, Arthur's voice low and gravely.

"What?" she feigns innocence, observing his demeanor. "Oh Arthur, why not?" she pushes after a moment of silence.

“You know damn well why”, he snaps quietly. Arthur is riddled with such self-loathing and doubt, something that Abigail is all too aware of.

"You’re being silly. Love doesn't have to be perfect, Arthur," she whispers, leaning in to him so that no one can overhear their conversation. "It just needs to be true," hints Abigail with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye, trying to goad him into action. "Trust me, I know what I'm talkin' about," as she gives a subtle nod in John's direction.

"It ain't that simple, Abigail", he pouts, as he turns and walks away before anyone else can approach him. Arthur doesn't know why he's suddenly so resentful of Javier. You and Javi are friends, fairly close in fact, and he knows this. But he has to get his head around this thing about you and fast. He can't go around avoiding you forever.

From where you are sitting, you look up from Javier just in time to see Arthur walking away from the circle of people and towards his tent. You hadn't noticed his return, and part of you wants to instantly jump up and run after him, as you've been desperately waiting to talk to him. But something about how his large footsteps hit heavily into the dirt under him, his shoulders squared harshly, told you that for whatever reason, he was in a mood and it is probably best to leave him alone at the moment.

----------------------------

The next morning, Arthur drags himself out of bed. He had a restless night, hardly sleeping at all. His inner struggle with whether or not to tell you how he feels is driving him insane. He cares for you, he knows that now. But is it selfish to tell you? What if he's not good enough, just like he wasn't good enough for Mary? What if he is not what you really want? He saw how you were with Javier. You've never been like that with Arthur. But then again, your relationship with Arthur is completely different. In fact, Arthur has always thought that what was between you two was better than that with anyone else. Is he wrong? As the camp sweetheart, you are kind and bubbly with everyone, even Uncle. But there is just something almost electric between you and Arthur. He can't be making this up in his own mind, can he?

As the camp comes to life this morning, Arthur notices that you are not at breakfast. Trying not to look too interested, he doesn’t ask about your whereabouts, but keeps a watchful eye out for you. He tries to keep himself busy with odds and ends around the camp, trying not to think of you. Its a sunny day, not too chilly, so its a good day to get alot of work and chores done. By the afternoon when you're still not around, he asks Lenny, “Where is everyone?”

Lenny tells him that Mr. Pearson took Tilly and Mary-Beth into town, Bill and Micah are chasing down a lead with Rev. Swanson, and you are out with Charles hunting. Arthur only huffs in response and wanders back to his tent to take a rest break in an attempt to avoid anyone else. It seems that you and Arthur are like passing ships these days, never in the same place at the same time. Some of that is his own doing, though, he realizes.

It isn't long before he hears the hoofbeats of horses and looks up from his cot to see you and Charles riding in together. He looks up from his journal and watches as you pull Blue to a halt. Being ever the gentleman, Charles is quick to hold your reins with one hand while assisting you down from the saddle with the other. Your face is alight with excitement and all smiles. Charles was teaching you to use a bow and how to track today. Apparently it paid off, as you brought down a large doe on your own. Arthur observes you trailing behind Charles like a puppy as he carries the large deer carcass over his strong shoulders and over to the food wagon to skin. His eyes keenly pickup how you lay your delicate hand over top of Charles' thick forearm and giggle and flutter your eyes at him as you watch him prep the animal for skinning, the pride beaming off of your features. It starts to make Arthur jealous again, not even realizing it. He can feel his stomach starting to turn in knots.

Dejected, Arthur decides to keep his distance from everyone for the rest of the day. He needs to reassess his plan to talk to you, and more importantly, really take a hard look at his feelings for you and the options that are available. Arthur mulls over how you interact with everyone else. Maybe he isn't that special after all? What if it is just wishful thinking on his part that you could want him? He's not as young and intelligent as Lenny. Or as suave and debonair as Javier. And he ain't even half the man that Charles Smith is. What could he possibly offer you? What, his smart-ass attitude, dirty fingernails and a life of always looking over your shoulder? Arthur was literally just spending his time out of the camp intimidating people for money and plotting to steal from others, all while trying to keep his head low enough to avoid the lawman's noose. That's a real nice proposition for a lady, isn't it? What if his affection for you leads to your destruction?

God damn it, why did he have to find you in the woods that day?, Arthur curses himself. Sure, he helped you out, but why couldn't it have been someone else from some other camp? Things have been so much more complicated since you got here. Your presence is like fingers in his brain, digging deep. Things were so much simpler for him before you came. How the hell is he going to get you out of his mind, now?

For your part, when you woke up a few days ago and Arthur wasn't in camp, you were more than a little frustrated. You wanted to talk to him so badly, if nothing else than to just apologize for how you had acted that drunken night. It obviously made him uncomfortable; you see that now, as Arthur had left camp for several days after that and looks to be avoiding you now that he's back. But you just can't let it go. Whatever your feelings for him may be, Arthur is your best friend. You usually pal around with him all of the time when he's available. You don't want things to continue awkwardly like this. You'll just have to push your love for him way down deep into your chest and try to ignore it as best you can. Because, as you have come to fully realize now, you do love him.

As the sun starts to set for day, draping the camp in its gold and orange hues, you bite your lip nervously, your fingers knotting around themselves as you tentatively approach Arthur. You've had enough of this nonsense and you're going to pin him down and talk to him, whether he likes it or not. You finally find him alone on the edge of camp feeding the horses and securing his tack for his own horse, as usual.

“Hey you," you say with a guarded lightness in your voice as you get closer to him. Arthur has his back to you as he rolls up a bit of rope in his gloved hands. He turns his head upon hearing you, but just slightly; just enough to see who is approaching, but not enough to make direct eye contact. He only responds with a gruff "Hey" of his own before turning back around to continue what he's doing.

"Missed you at dinner. Are you hungry?” you ask.

“No”, his answer short and definitive, his large hands continuing to move about their task.

"You sure?" you press, trying to coax him into engaging with you somewhat as you crane your neck a bit to see if you can look into his face at all.

“I ate while I was out earlier," he answers simply.

“Oh," you reply, disappointed, but still not willing to give up just yet. "Did you get what you needed in town yesterday?”

"Yep." He finishes bundling the rope in his hands at this point and hangs it upon a nail sticking out of the nearby tree. He then moves to sit on a stump he'd pulled over earlier and begins to retie and tighten the straps on Buck's saddle.

"I see you got cleaned up while you were out," you observe with approval, a smile upon your face. His hair is cropped shorter and out of his eyes, now. He still has his beard, but it is trimmed much shorter, accenting his chiseled jawline and exposing his strong neck a bit more.

"That a problem?" Arthur cuts back with a bit of snarkiness to it.

"No. I kinda like seeing your face, actually." you reply smartly. This causes Arthur to just huff and shake his head at your comment. (Jesus, this is killing him.)

There is nothing but an awkward silence, as you are just praying for more from him right now. Your heart is starting to break as you stare at him sitting there. There is so much that you want to say to him, but you can't. At least not until you can get him to really talk to you. God, he can be such a stubborn ass sometimes!

"How did the scout go today?" you ask, one last attempt at small talk to try to break the ice. No, its not even ice at this point, but a glacier! Slow-moving, frigid and unforgiving.  

“Just fine," is all that you can get from him, not even looking up from what he is doing, not even an inch.

“Hosea seems to think that man skimming the ranchers has a lot of cash stashed somewhere," you suggest.

”I guess," Arthur shrugs indifferent, eyes still focused on the work in front of him.

You stand there looking at him, still wringing your hands. You are wracked with frustration as well as sadness at how this is going right now. “Are you even going to look at me?” you chuckle nervously, the presence of a plea in your voice. Finally, throwing his hands down in a huff, Arthur turns to you, eyebrows raised and definitely looking annoyed, as if pushed to his limits now.

“Yep” you smile tentatively. “That’s you alright." You purse your lips as you exhale deeply before you finally ask the question plaguing your mind. "Are you mad at me, Arthur? Is this about the other night?” you ask hesitantly. You weren't sure just how to approach the subject of what happened in your tent the other night with him, with the kiss and the "sweet" talk and all, but now seemed as good as a time as any to get it out in the open.  

“No, I just don’t need you mothering me all the damn time is all,” he says harshly to you.

You stand quietly, still hoping he’ll say something else, but more nothing comes. "Would you even tell me if you were?" you ask softly.  

"I already said I wasn’t!" he snaps louder this time. His tone startles you a bit and you blink uncomfortably, shifting your weight where you stand. Arthur immediately regrets the way he's just spoken to you and looks down in shame at his hands at what he's doing again to avoid your gaze on him.

“OK..well," you mumble awkwardly, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright, since I haven't talked to you much lately. I’ll leave you be, then. See ya,” you say gently, as to not offend or push him any further with your presence, and you slowly turn and walk away. It's no use in talking to him when he gets like this and you know it. While Arthur is not one to get angry with you specifically that often, he is known for his temper. So its best not to push the issue at this time, and you decide to cut your losses while you can.

Arthur finally turns completely around to face you and opens his mouth to apologize, lifting his hand to catch your elbow, but finds that you're already hurrying off and that you don't notice his gesture. He is met with nothing but dead space where you were just standing and he finds it so disheartening. He can still smell the scent of lavender lingering in the air from your presence there. He hangs his head low, lacing his hands behind his neck in frustration with himself before looking up again after you. He sighs deeply. “Stupid ass…” he mutters. He’s self sabotaging again. There is so much that he wants to say to you as well, but like you, he can't, as he can't find the words in his tortured mind. And he realizes that he's at a turning point: does he give up on a chance at happiness once again? Or does he fight for it? Are you worth the risk of the heartache that will inevitably come to an outlaw on the run?

From across camp, Hosea watches as you walk away from Arthur, your arms wrapped around yourself to ward off the chill that is not only coming from the night air, but from the man you were just speaking to. His face screws up in thought, letting out a long frustrated sigh. "Leave it be, old man," mutters Ms. Grimshaw, who is sitting next to Hosea, not even looking up from the newspaper she's reading, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"They're both acting foolish," Hosea huffs, scowling in your direction.

"They're acting young," Ms. Grimshaw corrects him, still not looking up from her paper.

"They ain't that young! And neither am I, for that matter. Jackie needs someone to play with, and I'd like to see another grandchild before I die," he says sternly.

"Hell, that could be as early as tomorrow," scoffs Grimshaw, finally looking at him.

"All the more reason to get on with it," insists Hosea, waiving his hand in emphasis.

She just shakes her head at him with a chuckle. "Kinda presumptuous of you at this early point, don't you think?"

"Are you kidding? I've never seen a more sure bet in my life," he says, reaching over and tapping his finger on her newspaper in emphasis.

Ms Grimshaw looks at him and sighs again, her demeanor more serious now. "Hosea, you gave them each your word not to get involved," she reminds him, flicking her cigarette ash to the grass.

"Yeah, I did...but you didn't," he grins mischievously, a plan slowly forming in his devious mind.

"You are correct, I did not. And I don't want to get involved, either," she says, giving him the raised eyebrow look, instilling her position on the subject.

Hosea knows full well that he's not going to be able to manipulate Susan into doing his bidding. So he simply turns back to watch over the camp again and pouts.

-----------------------------------

The next morning, you're unloading one of the wagons, cleaning it out and taking inventory of supplies. The camp will need to start stocking up soon for the colder months to come. You repack the crates and make a note of what is low and what needs replenished. You crawl around on your hands and knees, pulling boxes and shuffling them around inside the wagon. You've decided to take everything out, sweep out the wagon interior and repack as you go. Some of the wooden crates are heavier than others and you softly grunt as you haul them about. You are so caught-up in your work that you do not hear the footsteps crunching the fallen leaves in the grass behind you.

Seeing you working by yourself, Arthur slowly approaches you, hoping that you'll still be willing to talk to him after last night. "Need a hand with that?" he asks, pointing towards the object of your burden as you bend over to try to lift a crate full of potatoes. His presence startles you a bit, as you were not expecting him. You look over your shoulder, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face and give him a small smile, "Sure". As you straighten up and step aside, laying a hand on your already-aching lower back, Arthur moves around you to effortlessly pick up the box and sets it on the edge of the wagon bed. He pauses for a second, his hand still resting on the crate, trying to think of what to say as he turns to face you now.

"'m sorry about yesterday, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I was bein' a crab-ass, as you call it, and just in a mood," his hand waves in the air slightly in emphasis, before it lands on his gun belt.

The sound of Arthur's gravely, but soft voice addressing you makes your heart melt, a surge of relief washing over you. You hate it when you and Arthur are at odds with one another. “It’s OK. Everyone gets that way," giving him a reassuring smile as you cross your arms across your abdomen. "I just wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me.”

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, (Y/N)," Arthur says. "And if I was, trust me, you’d know it," his head tilts to the side slightly to emphasize his point.

“Well, you’ve always been kind to me," your smile widening now as you look up into his blue eyes. "And that's our deal, remember? You look after me and I'll look after you.”

Your statement makes Arthur smile widely at you in return. "That's right. That is our deal, isn't it?" He gives you a wink.

You offer a bit of a giggle, and return to your task at hand, with Arthur working beside you. With his help, you quickly finish organizing the supply wagon and then walk over to give Mr. Pearson the supply list of inventory. With that finally done and out of the way, you and Arthur sit down at one of tables and start talking as you usually do, and things seem to be back to normal once again. Unknown to either of you, you both silently, and independently, decide in your own minds to put the topic of revealing feelings for each other aside for now. You just started speaking to one another again and neither of you wants to rock the boat right now. There will be time enough to discuss such things later.

“So," starts Arthur casually as he lights himself a cigarette, "you were singing with Javier the other day, and out hunting with Charles yesterday." He shakes out the flame on the match between his large fingertips before tossing it into the grass at this feet. "All that on top of what you already do around here. Is there anything you can’t do?” he asks with friendly sarcasm.

“Well, I don’t know," you reply grinning at him. "I am pretty great.”

“And humble. Don’t forget about humble," he snorts back dryly, cigarette smoke puffing out of his nose.

“Let’s see..." you tap your forefinger to your lips in deep thought. "I don't know how to cut hair," you offer.

“Dually noted for future reference," says Arthur with a nod. "What else?”

You squint your eyes as you think some more. "I don't handle snakes very well," you point your finger at him, confessing your greatest personal weakness.

"Yeah, I know. I was with you last time you came across one," he rolls his eye at you. "Still can't hear out of that ear too well," he grumbles in that heavenly southern drawl of his. "I think the whole damn county heard you screamin'." You chuckle at his response, as you remember that incident vividly and it certainly was not one of your more refined moments.

"I'm not good at juggling," you say matter-of-factly, continuing your list.

"Yeah, well, don't feel too bad about that one. Juggling is stupid," replies Arthur as he shifts his weight where he sits, folding his arms and leaning out on the table and in closer to you now. "What else you got?"

“And I’m not good at fishing, either,” you declare, slowly nodding your head as if you've just admitted to a cardinal sin.

“What?" he sits up straighter as if in shock. "How do you exist in the world?” he scolds.

“Arthur, in all the months that we've known each other, haven't you noticed that I never volunteer to go fishing with you?", you ask admonishingly. "Fish are disgusting," you wrinkle your nose at the thought of it. "They're tasty, but disgusting.”

“Well, I just can't have that," Arthur shakes his head at you, pretending as if ashamed. "Looks like I'm gonna have to take you out and teach you, then.” His blue eyes crinkle into as subtle smile again.

You giggle at the banter between you and Arthur, as this makes you the happiest. Arthur doesn’t have this kind of rapport with anyone else in camp and you relish the idea that you're somewhat special because of it.

You and Arthur are so caught-up in your conversation that you do not notice Hosea as he walks over to the two of you. “Well, don’t you two look pleased with yourselves”, he greets you both warmly and sits down next to Arthur at the table.

“Good morning, Hosea," you say sweetly. "Oh! I’m glad you’re here," you perk up a bit more, suddenly distracted with a new thought. "I wanted to know if I could pick your brain a bit."

The man's curiosity is peaked at your request. “Oh?” he asks as he fidgets in the chair, trying to get comfortable.

"Yes," you exclaim excitedly. "With the autumn almost on us, the local plants are dwindling fast. I need to stock up on whatever I can find for medical supplies going into the winter. Arthur is always telling me that you're quite the herbalist. I was hoping to discuss plants and herbs with you and maybe even have you take me out and show me what you’ve found in the area? If we work together I'm sure we can amass quite a stash."

“Really?" Hosea's eyes widen with surprise. He is not used to someone needing him for his other talents, outside of for robbing and stealing. And certainly not one of the women.

"Sure," you smile at him. "Besides, Arthur has made it very clear I am not to leave the camp on my own," you say with an eye roll in Arthur's direction. "So who better to take me out than the one who taught him, right?" You look to Hosea like an excited child, your eyes bright and wide, your face leaning in towards him as your shoulders hunched a bit in expectation of his answer. Hosea is an important man in this group, so you are not sure if he has the time to run around with you looking for plants of all things.  

But to your surprise, rather than declining your request for his precious time, Hosea’s chest swells with pride, a grin dancing across his weathered face, one that almost reaches up to touch the silver hair at his temples. “Why, I’d be honored Miss (Y/L/N). We can even go later today if you wish. I’m more than happy to share what I know," he says, appreciative of your respect of his knowledge. "Lord knows I’ve tried to show this one time and again," he points at Arthur. "Oh, I could tell you quite a few stories about this one,” he chuckles with a wave.

"Don’t start,” warns Arthur, his eyebrows pulled in annoyance.

"You see, (Y/N), we had a hell of a time getting Arthur, here, to do anything in the beginning. He was a wild child when Dutch and I found him. Teaching this boy anything was a real struggle at first." He shakes his head at the memory of it all. It seems like a lifetime ago now, like it happened to someone else entirely. "Hell, Bessie couldn't even get him to clean himself up. Seems she was always after him, chasing him around with a bar of soap in her hand. He used to share a bath with his dog!”

"No!" you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle your laugh at Arthur's expense. Arthur just sighs and rolls his eyes before staring down Hosea. "Shows what you know. I loved that dog," he sulks in his defense.  

"Ahem!" Suddenly, you all hear Dutch clearing his throat to announce his presence as he walks over. “I'd hate to break up your little tea party over here," the dark-haired man says, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest as he now has your group's attention, "but, Arthur I need you to come with me. Looks like we got a pressing opportunity to discuss. Something about a supply train coming through."

Arthur's face drops a little in disappointment, not wanting to get up and change company at the moment. Sensing Arthur's discouragement, "Don’t worry, Arthur," Hosea speaks up and pats the younger man on the back reassuringly. "I’ll keep Miss (Y/N) entertained. I got alot more stories than that one ”, and Hosea gives you a wink from across the table.

“'Little Arthur' stories, oh I am so happy right now”, you tease, clasping your hands together in excitement.

“I swear, Hosea, just because you’re old doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass,” Arthur throws a half-hearted threat at the man with a glare to match, causing both you and Dutch to chuckle a bit again at the two of them bickering.

"Dutch, you remember all the trouble Arthur used to get into?" asks Hosea, turning his attention to his long-time friend, with a twinkle in his eye as he lights himself a cigarette.

"Do I?" scoffs Dutch. "Jesus, I was just waiting for Bessie to toss a rope around his ankles and drag 'em behind one of the horses," he chuckles. "But she never did, though, bless her heart. She had endless patience." Dutch's eyes go soft at the memory of his dear friend, now long gone these many years.

"That's 'cause she liked me better than either of you two," declares Arthur proudly.

"Oh, I don't doubt that for even a second." Dutch confirms with a warm smile. And, after a brief moment, he shakes the memory from his mind like cleaning a cobweb caught in a window. "Anyway," waiving his arm dismissively, "Come walk with me, Arthur. We have much to discuss and plan for." And Dutch gets that devilish grin that you all know too well.

“Don’t worry, Arthur" Hosea insists again. "I will only speak the truth to (Y/N) while you're otherwise occupied," says the older gentleman, holding up his hand as if swearing to it.

Now that Hosea knows how he really feels about you, Arthur is a little nervous as to what the old man could say to you while he's off with Dutch. Hosea did promise that he wouldn't say anything about the matter, though; that he'd let Arthur handle it on his own. But, then again, Hosea is a professional con-artist.

Arthur falls silent, contemplating the options, and looks between you and Hosea, as you are now clearly two peas in a pod, as they say. Both you and Hosea sit smiling innocently back at Arthur. But he knows that you two are far from innocent. “I hate you both,” he pouts as he pushes himself up from his chair to follow Dutch, who only shakes his head and gives a slight chuckle, leaving you and Hosea snickering amongst yourselves as you watch Arthur walk away.

------------------------------

A few hours later, when he comes back to camp with Dutch and John from meeting their source of the train tip, Arthur is delighted to see that you and Hosea are still sitting together, but now over by the main fire, smiling and talking over a cup of coffee. The sight makes Arthur feel content to see his two favorite people in the world getting on so well together. He takes a moment to watch the two of you chatting cheerfully about something or other.  After the anxiety of the last few days, Arthur is beyond happy that all of that business seems to be behind him now. He still needs to deal with his feelings for you. But for now, that can wait. As for now, all seems right with his world again once more.

”Oh, great. You two are still hanging around each other.” Arthur feigns annoyance, playing it cool as he saunters over to the fire to join you.

“Ah, Arthur, there you are! Come, come...join us!" says Hosea, waving at Arthur to sit, which he does, taking the spot on the other side of you. "(Y/N) and I had the most splendid day today!" Hosea exclaims as he affectionately pats your arm next to him.

“Hosea just may be the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” you interject with a chirp, smiling brightly at Hosea before turning to Arthur with an even bigger one.

"Is that right?" deadpans Arthur, attempting to suppress the grin forming in the corners of his mouth.

“Miss Y/N thinks I’m charming,” gloats Hosea, pointing at Arthur to make sure he hears his point.  

“Yeah, well, you gotta remember, she drinks a lot," Arthur teases as he gives you a smirk, causing your mouth to drop open in offense before you back-hand his bicep, trying not to laugh.

“Hey! Watch it, Morgan!”

 *Hope you guys liked this one!  @CHILDOFSUMMERSGONE 

@sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @ao3sub​

[nanabansama]

Spoilers for Chapter 110

Did you notice that Mitsuba, School Mystery No. 3 whose name literally contains the kanji character "3", died 2 times and is now dying a third time!?!?! WELL, I DID!!!!

Sorry, I've just seen others theorizing about this for a while and always thought it was such a sadistic idea and I can't believe it actually happened... AIDAIRO!! AIDAIROOOOOOO!!!!!!!! *wordless wail*

If that wasn't bad enough, AidaIro had him meet Mitsuba Sousuke's mother and, unbeknownst to her, her son is dying all over again RIGHT NEXT TO HER...!!!! Keep in mind that she doesn't even know he's here, either. And now she may never even get to know this new version of him!!! NGYAAAHHH!!! Yet another example of the sadistic torture AidaIro enjoys putting us through...

Anyway, a moment of respite before I start yelling again: I enjoyed comparing my prediction posts to this chapter! I was right that Tsukasa would win, but...well, I think I got everything else wrong? HAHA. But seriously, I never could have fathomed the plot twist that Mitsuba has no yorishiro, effectively meaning that Tsukasa is literally STEPS away from completing his goal and destroying himself, yet here we are. I'm beginning to think the end of the series is closer than any of us could have anticipated... (it's almost sad to think about!)

But sadly, even though Hanako is trying his best to get through to Tsukasa, Hanako is still shackled and effectively powerless to stop him if he gets to Nene. Maybe there's some sort of schoolmystery-yorishiro power dynamic going on where Tsukasa is always weaker than Hanako, but with the state he's in now, I think Tsukasa should be safe to just shove him off...

That said, this move was so well-played! Hanako, stripped of power, could not stop Tsukasa with force alone, so he instead had to use the force of gravity to force Tsukasa on the ground and pin him with his knife and body. I still don't think this is enough to stop Tsukasa entirely, but it is enough to give Hanako time to plead with him. It also restores my faith in the fact that Hanako is a good fighter.

Anyway...I feel like everyone's already wibbled and wobbled about the ending of this chapter by now, but I just want to say I am SO GLAD Amane communicated his feelings to Tsukasa. That he said "i love you" in every single word he said, even if Tsukasa didn't hear it. It was so heartwarming, since Amane almost never does this. He always either bottles things up or shoves his feelings to the side until they're suddenly wrenched out of him and he's forced to care again. And while he was only able to do this because he was literally seconds away from losing Tsukasa, I am SO HAPPY that he could even do it all.

But unfortunately, he still couldn't say "I love you". He had to settle for the tsundere version. (Siiigh...)

Yet even if he did I'm not sure if Tsukasa would be convinced...That boy is soooo traumatized by the time Amane pushed him as a child, it's actually concerning. (._.`)

All I'm hoping for is that something happens to stop Tsukasa. I'm not emotionally prepared for him to go yet!!! But even if he does go within the next chapter or the next few after it, I just hope he goes out knowing he was loved. Like Sumire did. 💔

It feels like each new chapter has been more exciting than the last...if we get a Yugi backstory chapter next month I think I might actually die of happiness. Goodbye everyone...I'm going to a better place... 👼

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter as much as I did!! This was such a good one I'm sure I'll be back later to tack on more thoughts. Thanks for reading!!

[mercymaker]

Tav NSFW Questions

As seen here, compiled and posted by @tragedybunny

What is your Tav’s sexuality/orientation preference?

Mal is very much bi (or pan, I guess?). She is weak for the ladies because they're so pretty and it can make her flustered so she tries to combat that by pretending that she's all calm and cool and unbothered. An absolute dork.

What are their biggest ‘NOs’ they will never consider doing during sex?

I'd say anything you'd consider "extreme", or anything that would seriously hurt her. The mental aspect is also quite important to her, so any words or actions that would harm or degrade her would be out of the question.

Are they a Top/Bottom/Switch?

At first, she's quite passive and submissive when it comes to sex, purely based on her inexperience and just being unsure of what to do and how to do it. There's a little bit of that pride in her that wants to do something well that prevents her from even trying in the first place, but eventually, as she gains more experience (and encouragement), Mal becomes more assertive and less passive, even when she lets someone else take the lead. So, I guess, once she gets to the place where she knows what she wants, she's kind of a switch? Maybe with a slight preference to letting her partner(s) take the lead?

Favorite Position?

Alright, so one time Astarion pinned her to the wall and fucked her till she saw stars and the whole thing is etched in her memory forever. There was something about that lowkey claustrophobic feeling of being trapped combined with his body pressed firmly against hers, getting overwhelmed by all the sensations and also not having to worry about finding support. Just wrapping her legs around him and enjoying the ride. I think that's the one.

Do they prefer giving or receiving? 

God, I can't believe I'm doing this to my own beloved character, but I do think that Mal's a wee bit of a pillow princess. At least at the very beginning. She just sort of... relaxes and enjoys whatever she's given. BUT! With time and experience her role does shift, especially when she realizes that her actions can absolutely melt her partner under her, so that newfound sense of power is very intriguing to her and in some way a bit intoxicating. Maleane becomes much more active and wants to learn how to give and be good at it, so in the end it depends on the day and the mood.

Tits or Ass?

Tits, chests, torsos, tiddies, boobies, all of that stuff! It's where the heart is! It's where love lives! But nah, Mal likes seeing, touching, suckin, lickin, all that good stuff, she might bite your nip nops a bit, so watch out!

How experienced is your Tav?

Before all the tadpole business and getting involved with the pale elf, Mal was a 100% forest-grown virgin, so not experienced at all! She does eventually pick up a thing or two from her vampire boyfriend but having no and then one partner for quite a while doesn't really make her someone I'd consider experienced.

Do they have any traumas around sex? 

It's not necessarily a trauma, but the first time Mal had sex was quite a complicated experience that left her somewhat hesitant to do it again. While she did feel attraction and wanted to experience getting all wild and dirty, Maleane was also pretty scared (there was a very real possibility she might get killed) and nervous, but tried to compensate for it by playing it cool and looking confident. In turn, she made it worse by encouraging roughness as she thought it would mask the fact that she's just a wee lil virgin girlie. So yeah, it was a mixed bag, and Mal would probably like to go back and change the way it happened, but not the fact that it happened. They got better at it, eventually. Mutual trust and all that stuff.

Do they have any taboo kinks?

I've been on this site so long, I honestly don't even know wtf is considered a taboo kink. Like.. is getting blood, biting, and ropes involved in your bedtime activities considered too nasty these days? Or is it the other way around? 🤷‍♀️

Would they want a polyamorous relationship? 

I don't think she'd necessarily seek a polyamorous relationship, but I also don't think she'd be completely against it. Mal wants to try so many things, so being with more than one person, when all the parties involved are cool with it? Yeah, pretty sure she'd be down to try. But then again, I'd consider Maleane a somewhat jealous person and considering how she doesn't exactly have a basis for a super healthy relationship, I'm not sure how long the whole shebang would last.

How do they feel about voyeurism? And would they do it?

Not to be a complete freak, but watching other people from afar is kind of her whole thing. Growing up, Maleane was not allowed to approach others, so she mostly just watched and observed them while being unseen herself. She witnessed some sexual acts as well, and that was sort of her first look at sex and intimacy. It doesn't feel weird to her at all, because that was just a part of her life.

How big is your Tav’s sex drive?

Mal struggles a bit with disconnecting her overthinking noggin, so it can make it quite difficult to relax and just fuck. As with most things, she learns how to manage it better with time, but she never quite catches up with Astarion. They find ways around it, though.

How many rounds can they last?

Not that many. I see her as someone who gets overwhelmed and overstimulated pretty easily, once it gets to that point. And considering how often times fighting discomfort in her intimate life is a pretty significant issue, the last thing she wants is to get more of it by pushing herself past her comfort zone. That being said, though, Mal does have her moments that surprise even Astarion, but those aren't very common.

What is their aftercare like?

Lots and lots of touch. She might not necessarily need a word of reassurance, but a touch with the same intent is what Mal needs. Holding hands, cuddling, soft caresses, all that. She wants to feel safe and appreciated, and it goes the same both ways.

What lingerie does Tav wear?

Coming from someone who lived nearly three decades in the woods wearing whatever the fuck was available to her, Mal quite likes all the pretty fabrics and clothes. I'm pretty sure that, when they can, Astarion likes to indulge this side of her by getting her pretty things, including lingerie. He gets to peel all of it off of her, after all. Maleane quite likes all the lacy stuff, but it's pretty expensive and not that common, so.. yeah. It's a bit of a special something.

Double penetration?

Gods, when I think of Mal she always seems so tense and tight, like a little clam, especially in the early days. I think it takes her quite some time to open up, both physically and mentally. She would like to try and maybe with some proper prep it could be achieved, but it's no easy task. It also depends on the, uh... dimensions we're working with here sdfsdfdsf.

Least likely person they’d ever consider themselves sleeping with.

Mal does have a bit of an issue with her fellow drow, so it takes her a looooooooooooooooong while to be comfortable to even be around them, let alone sleep with any of them. It's a lot of trauma in that department, so it's understandable.

How long since their last sexual encounter?

Considering she's in a relationship with Astarion, probably not that long, lmao.

Ok with period sex?

I think, yeah. Mal's nasty, she grew up in the woods wading through all sorts of stuff. The blood itself might not be an issue, but feeling like utter crap might not be the best premise for some "fun times", however, hormones work in mysterious ways so.. yeah!

Are they loud or quiet during sex?

She is surprisingly quiet in her little moans and whimpers. Which Astarion, naturally, takes as a bit of a challenge, he wants to make her truly sing. And yeah, eventually, Mal does let go a little bit, it helps her with the overall "shit, why am i constantly in my head through all of this?" problem, and allows herself to be just a tab bit more vocal.

Alright with Dub-con/CNC? Role Playing? 

I think Mal sits at the very edge of this very definition to the point of getting into the semantics of the word. Role-playing? Yes, that's one of her fantasies. But even that whole scenario comes from a place of tremendous trust, as she's quite fragile and just a single thought on how the situation could be real entering her mind would cause her to absolutely crumble. She doesn't want to be forced to do anything, but she does find the idea of pretending to be in certain risky scenarios very appealing.

Are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? 

Oh boy, at first, she's too serious. All tense and overthinking and making it more serious than it actually is. As with her general attitude, her views on it shift with time. She allows herself to have more fun, both in everyday life, as well as her sex life.

If your Tav has a vagina, do they like anal?

I wouldn't say she's someone who'd enjoy it often, but considering some of her kinks and fantasies, there are situations where it feels fitting and Mal prefers it in those scenarios. Like when she's feeling particularly submissive or when they're role-playing something or when she's feeling very naughty and wants to give someone "a treat".

Does your Tav want other people in a relationship? 

Yes and no. On one hand, she wants to experience a lot of new things and what life has to offer, just explore what's out there, so getting other people involved does sound tempting. But on the other hand, she's also quite jealous, so it depends on which devil on her shoulder wins that day.

How well groomed are they? Shaved completely? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.

I'm actually not sure how it all works with elves and stuff. Slippin' n slidin', no?

What is your Tav’s favorite place to have sex?

Mal likes to be comfy and relaxed, so... bed. But! A patch of nice comfy grass somewhere in a private location works just as well when one's not available. I know, quite boring, but you argue with her!

What about quickies?

She's not a big fan of those, but when you're on the road a lot getting into all sorts of situations, they just happen! When you're someone like Mal, it takes a bit of preparation to get her to a place where things feel good, so she tends to lean more towards, uh... less rapid scenarios.

Would Tav like to participate in orgy?

I think so! Just to see if it's something she'd like or not. After all the game events, Mal is out on a journey to explore the world and everything it has to offer. And I do think getting sandwiched between two bodies would do her good, maybe allow her to relax a little bit. She would need to build up a little bit of courage and experience for it beforehand, though.

Would Tav like to use gags?

Yes, if the situation calls for it.

Soft and slow or hard and rough?

It depends on the day and the mood. Considering how difficult at times it is for her to get into the right mindset for sex, it helps when things move slow and she's allowed some room to breathe and keep track of things. That being said, there are days when she's just horny and wants to be bent over and pounded. And then we have those situations where things start soft and slow and eventually lead to hard and rough.

What’s their favorite toy?

Considering that she spends a chunk of her time alone in the woods, I think a very simple dildo does wonders for her. The good ole reliable, as they say.

Does your Tav have sexual fantasies?

Oh, yes! For the longest time that's the only thing she had. Just imagining scenarios where she gets to experience all those things she read about or observed in the outside world. It helps that eventually she gets a boyfriend that she trusts enough to share those fantasies with, so they can both work on bringing some of them to reality.

Is there a companion they would sleep with but not want to date and why?

I'd say it's probably Wyll. He is incredibly attractive to her, but their personalities would lead to constantly clashing over things. She could put up her good girl appearance, but who wants to build a fake persona for a relationship to even have a chance of lasting?

Can your Tav not have sex for a long period?

Yes, I'd say so. Being able to be on her own is one of her core strengths, so not fucking someone for a while wouldn't bother her too much.

Who was your Tav’s first sexual experience?

It was Astarion. And it was stressful and scary, but also kinda hot at the same time? It's very complicated, but they managed to more or less figure it out, eventually.

Blood kink?

I mean, she's dating a vampire spawn, so you can't really walk around the whole blood thing, can you? Mal does indulge him in quite some blood-drinking during their activities, but she's very uncomfortable with Astarion putting those fangs on her neck, so he makes do with what he can: shoulders, wrists, thighs, tits, etc. And then one night when he returns from a particularly messy hunt, Mal opens the door to her boyfriend being absolutely drenched in blood and that, uh, that very much turns her on! So not only does she kiss his bloody mouth, tasting all that sticky red on his skin, Maleane also gets a bunch of it on herself when she fucks him like there's no tomorrow.

Spanking?

A cheeky slap on the bum every once in a while, especially during the act, I can see her entertaining. Anything more than that, she would probably decline.

Will they want to have sex during pregnancy?

Does she want to? Yeah, those hormones be wildin, after all. (Un)fortunately, for ms. preggers Mal she's all alone in the woods with no one to smooch, so wish all you want lmao.

What was the worst moment your Tav felt lust?

I mean. She finds watching Astarion doing his thing very attractive. They also kill a lot of things on their journeys. You put two and two together.

What is your Tav’s class and how does it affect their sexual life?

She's a storm sorcerer, so magic's always brewing somewhere within her. However, Mal tries to not involve it in her sexual endeavors as her type of magic is quite dangerous and a lot of it is tied to her emotions so creating an association between those sort of feelings might lead to some literally explosive orgasms sdfdsf. Besides, while traveling with Astarion, she already uses quite a lot of her spell-power, so there's usually not that much left for the, uh, extracurricular activities.

How naughty are they? Does Tav like to tease?

I think somewhere along their journeys she finds quite a bit of mischief in her bones. It's sort of hard not to when you're constantly volleying with someone like Astarion. She does like to tease him quite a bit, especially in order to "provoke" him to do things to her. Often times, he doesn't need much, but he enjoys seeing her get all playful, so at times he pretends to be much more resilient to her charms.

What is your Tav's safe word?

It has to be "red", no? Because blood and vampirism and all. Yeah, I think that works.

Does your Tav like oral? Giving or receiving

Yes yes yes, Mal loves getting her pussy devoured. With Astarion, at times it comes with some nibbles to her thighs, but she considers it a fair exchange. When it comes to giving, she's a little bit more hesitant because she's not very experienced and also she can't handle a lot. But she tries, god bless her heart, she tries so hard!

Does your Tav like handjobs? Giving or receiving

She actually does! Considering Mal's not always comfortable or willing to do penetration, sometimes she chooses to employ her hands to please her partner. And with a lot of pointers and questions, she gets pretty good at it!

Does Tav like bondage? Being tied up or tying up your partner?

If there's enough trust between them involved, then absolutely yes. She likes being tied up, pinned down, restricted, but she also likes to tie her partner up when it's her turn to take the lead. And because early on she's a bit unsure and not that comfortable in a dominant role, restraining her partner gives her a bit of a prop to work with.

What does Tav consider “cheating”? 

Probably getting involved in any sort of sexual or emotional situation without her knowledge. After all, her and Astarion go on some wild adventures that involve sucking and fucking a bunch of other people, but as long as they keep communicating with each other, it's all good.

What spells does Tav use during sex (i.e. “silence” because they are too loud)

I have a feeling she would try to keep the use of magic in the bedroom minimal, BUT I can also see Astarion coaxing her into trying some things out. Definitely everyone's favorite Mage Hand and something like Hold Person for some uh... fun times.

Is your Tav into breeding?

No, she already took one creampie too many and had a case of a baby. Though, she does brew some plan b tea alongside all of the other potions and poisons, so she doesn't particularly mind her partners coming inside (for some tea dgdfg).

What makes your Tav absolutely horny?

Not to sound like a nun or something, but seeing her partner naked and doing some suggestive shit. When it comes to Astarion, him + a blade does something to her she cannot fully understand. Just the way he handles a dagger, how quick and precise he is.. HIS FINGERS???? HMMMMM YES.

What part of their partner’s body does Tav like the most?

Arms, hands, fingers, cock. Maleane gets a bit mesmerized watching Astarion do things with his hands. Picking locks, playing with cards, handling a dagger, all that good stuff. Mal's all heart eyes over that.

I've also answered this before in an ask so I'm just gonna drop it here as well:

From the moment she met him, Mal thought that Astarion was absolutely beautiful (yea, peak drow features - red eyes and silver white hair sdfsdfsd). But very quickly she gets somewhat obsessed with his arms and fingers. The way his muscles flex when he holds a bow? How quickly and precisely his fingers move, making all the traps and locks just crumble under his delicate touch. The way they eventually find what makes her body quiver too.

And then I reckon it would be fair to include Halsin since Mal's actively smooching him in my mind as I'm typing this. She loves his chest! It's so warm and fuzzy and when she rests her head against it, she can hear his heartbeat and it feels very intimate and calming. It's also a pretty good base to rest her hands on when she's on top of him.

What parts of Tav’s body does their partner love the most?

I also answered this before soooooo:

Astarion loves her mouth, her lips. He's quite in awe how she makes other people open their doors the way he does with locks without a key. And he soon finds out that often times it's that smile, one that could only be described as "disarming", that makes people drop their defenses. Sure, there's something playing behind her pale lilac eyes as well, but the man's focused on her mouth more often than not. And throughout the years he notices the very subtle differences when that smile is honest and when it's not. He's drawn to the way she laughs around him. How her lips feel and taste when she kisses him, how warm they are when she presses them against his skin or when they're wrapped around him.

Lights on or off?

I mean, they both have darkvision, so it's not like it matters too much.

How sensitive are your Tav’s nipples?

The normal amount?

Does Tav like using sex potions \ spells? (which make them more horny or allow to make more rounds)

Honestly, I kind of see them experimenting with some things, for sure. Just to try them out. Like shrooms that makes you mega horny? Why not?

Does Tav initiate sex more often than their partner?

While Mal does initiate it at times, it's nothing compared to Astarion. I think it's also because he's much more comfortable and suave in that department and Maleane feels like she's stumbling in the dark more often than not.

i'm tagging either the closest pals OR any of you that encouraged me to do this ♥ if you don't want any part of this, let me know and imma promptly remove your tag!

@ruinbringer @euryalex @arduath @baldursgaye @sorceresslodge @vspin @kiaransalee @ansburg @sageofthestrange