#i dint think i ever went to a house

[cowgurrrl]

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her. 

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her. 

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love." 

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out. 

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours. 

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints. 

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive. 

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know." 

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything. 

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute." 

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler. 

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall. 

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face. 

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room. 

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful." 

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself." 

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird." 

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself. 

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place." 

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass. 

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable." 

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track. 

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this. 

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his. 

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up. 

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college." 

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look. 

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything." 

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls." 

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly. 

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'." 

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety. 

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles. 

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me." 

"Then, that's what I'll do." 

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you. 

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in. 

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one. 

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him. 

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?" 

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down. 

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery. 

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting. 

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art. 

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck. 

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen. 

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to." 

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting. 

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness. 

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year. 

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand. 

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?" 

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says. 

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods. 

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him. 

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think. 

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd. 

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. 

"He is." 

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone." 

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email." 

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years." 

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands. 

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters. 

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you. 

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you." 

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault." 

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process. 

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree. 

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours. 

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks." 

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick. 

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

[xo-xojj]

Hold Me Close

(gif not mine)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Request: Nope

Desc: Reader gets sent back after hearing about Olivers experience at work.

Type: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Metions of suicidal thoughts, depression. Eating disorder metion. Reader has body dysmorphia And fluff at the end

Enjoy<3

It had been a long day for Oliver. He came back to his house and gors to his bedroom to see his boyfriend laying on his bed. He smiled softly dropping his bag down on the ground. He walked over to (y/n) kissing him softly then laying down next to him. “how was work. You seem stressed.” (y/n) said brushing a couple hairs out of Olivers face. “You read me like a book. Well since you asked it wasnt bad, I just got a call from someone who, uhm, i guess you could say they sounded like they were sinking. And i didnt really expect it to be honest. I was pretty embarrased because I wasnt really prepared to handle that today.

(y/n) frowned, as it was something that kinda tugged at his heart strings. He was now not in a good mood. And it wasnbt even Olivers fault. He asked how Olivers day was. He just wasnt prepared for that answer. Oliver could feel the obvious shift in the room. “Whats wrong, I mean i know it bummed me out but i didnt mean for-” “No, dont apologize, nor worry about it.“ (Y/n) cut oliver off. He gave oliver a soft kiss before getting up and going to the bathroom.

(Y/n), as usual, ate dinner with the Otto’s. He did this because his mother worked 3rd shift so it was easier just to eat with his boyfriends family instead of cooking himself. The Otto’s chatted as usual until Taylor brought up how (Y/n) was eating. He hadnt noticed he was eating a little fast, even though he could assume what from. He hadnt eaten a meal since last week. Just water and maybe a fruit before school. “Damn, your messing that up (y/n)“ Taylor said, obviously joking. But (Y/n) felt a nerve struck as he stopped. The dinner table was quiet as they all looked at (y/n). He swallowed his food with a guilty look on his face. Oliver looked at his boyfriend with confusion on why he wasnt talking. (y/n) suddenly stood up amd excused himself to the bathroom. The whole family looked at eachother witg confused facea. They were used to jokes with eachother. What happened now?

It was finally the weekend and Oliver couldnt stop thinking about (y/n) ever since what happened Wednesday. And it was the last time they had talked. Oliver went over to (y/n)’s house. He knocked and there his boyfriend was. “hey!“ Oliver said hopeful. “whats up“ (y/n) said. “can we talk if you dont mind, i dont wanna stand out here and talk because it kinda looks weird.“ Oliver said quickly. And (y/n) moved back so oliver could come in and closed the door behind him. The two sat down on the couch. “What happened Wednesday?“ Oliver askes sincerely. “Uhm nothing, why?-“ (y/n) gets cut off. “Dont bother lying, (y/n/n) I know something was up ever since i told you about what happened to me at work. And i doubt that what i told you was the main thing bothering you“ Oliver said. He placed a hand on (y/n)’s hand and squeezed it. “Talk to me, please.“ Oliver begged hating seeing his boyfriend like this. (y/n) started to break down in olivers shoulder. He sobbed and stayed like that for a couole minutes. Wetting Olivers blue shirt. Eventually (y/n) lifted his head up not looking up at his boyfriend until his boyfriend, Oliver made him look at him. “Talk to me (y/n)“ Oliver asked again. “I just uhm, felt kinda stupid. When i was 11 I had gained weught along side an eating disorder. I really hated the way i looked and at times i do now. And it uhm, got to a point where i had tried to.......“ (y/n) said stuttering. Now everything made sense to Oliver. Thats why he left the dining room, his bedroom, and kinda ghosted. He was embarrased. “Hey, if you dint want to you dont bave to say anymore. I get it“ Oliver said kissing (y/n) softly before holding him and rocking back n forth as he cried. “I just didnt wanna become a burden“ (Y/n) said and It broke Olivers heart a little. The person he truly loved with his whole heart had been through so much and he only knew a little. To hear his boyfriend call hinself a burden hurt oliver himself more than anything. “No. God no youd never be a burden. Thats what i do. And id be damned if i didnt do it for you. Im here for you.“ Oliver said. They cuddled there and they just stayed like that until they fell asleep. From then on Oliver Cherished his boyfriend and wanted to protect him with his whole life. He never wanted to see (y/n) hurt again.

[navnae]

Bad Influence (18+)

Paring: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Warnings: Dom Eddie Munson , Dom/sub, Anal S3x, Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Rough S3x, Rough Kissing, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Steve Harrington Has a Praise Kink, Eddie Munson Hates Steve’s Dad, Watching

Summary: Eddie knows that Steve’s dad doesn’t like him and he goes out of his way to show it. Eddie needed to show him that he was here to stay and there was nothing he could do about it. If he believed Eddie was a bad influence then he was going to do a damn good job at it.

or

Eddie found a way to piss off Steve’s dad.

A/N: this is definitely not everyone’s cup of tea so if you dint like it please leave! You have been warned :)

-

After announcing that they were in a relationship, Steve and Eddie made it their duty to spend the entire summer together. That also meant Eddie had to spend his time with Steve’s family and the day would drag on for too long. He tried to be as present as possible to make a good impression but Steve’s father pushed his buttons every chance gets. Ever since he met the man he’s been disrespectful and made sure that Eddie heard all the slick comments that he could think of. Eddie thought it was because he couldn’t accept the fact that Steve liked men or he wasn’t as clean cut like everyone else in the small town. Steve informed him that it was because he smoked which Eddie took as a cover up for something else, none of it was adding up. Gradually Eddie stopped trying to be on his best behavior and spat back at Steve’s dad which always caught him off guard.

Steve scolded him about it several times and told him that he shouldn’t disrespect his father. Which Eddie had no problem with until one night when he slept over at Steve’s house he overheard an argument downstairs. Steve’s dad went on about how Eddie brought out the worst in Steve and he was the one who filled Steve’s head with homosexual tendencies. Hearing those words come out of his mouth pissed Eddie off that entire night and Steve didn’t know that he heard their conversation. Eddie’s dislike towards the older man grew every single day whenever he saw him around the house, Steve’s games, family video basically anywhere that involved Steve. He even showed at Eddie’s trailer once knowing that his company was very unwanted but that didn’t stop him because being the asshole he is, he wanted Eddie to know that he would never approve or respect anything that he did.

The thing that most people tend to forget is that Eddie rarely bites his tongue and he’ll never let anyone feel like they can treat him like shit. So when Steve’s dad least expected it Eddie was going to get him back in the most twisted and malicious way that he wouldn’t see it coming. The opportunity presented itself when Steve invited Eddie over and he emphasized that they would be by themselves. Eddie arrived at Steve’s place with all kinds of thoughts running through head as he came up with different scenarios that would make Steve’s dad blood boil. His thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening and Steve greeted him with a bright smile. Eddie let out a small gasp when Steve pulled him inside the house and started to kiss him. They made out near the door while their hands roamed over each other’s bodies.

“That’s an interesting way of saying hello.” Eddie joked after he pulled away from Steve. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him close enough so their foreheads could touch.

“I really wanted to see you and since we’re alone I thought we could,” Steve trailed off mid sentence while sliding his finger down Eddie’s clothed chest and bit his lip when he met Eddie’s gaze. “Have some fun.”

“Oh really?” Eddie asked as he raised a brow. Steve usually gave subtle hints when he was in the mood to have sex but today was very different. He looked at Eddie hungrily and eagerness could be seen all over his face.

“Mhm.” Steve hummed while pulling Eddie back into another kiss. This time Steve made it tougher than before and Eddie followed his lead. Eddie licked Steve’s bottoms lip for permission then slipped his tongue inside of his mouth earning a tiny whimper from Steve as his tongue licked deeply inside of his mouth. He pulled away leaving a string of spit that connected to both of their mouths and broke because of the distance they created.

“We should take this upstairs.” Eddie said lowly into Steve’s ear. Steve didn’t even hesitate to grab Eddie’s wrist and drag him upstairs. He was guiding him towards Steve’s bedroom like they always did but Eddie had something else in mind when he saw that Steve’s parents bedroom door was wide open. Eddie stopped in his tracks making Steve stop as well. “You’re parents are at work, right?”

“Yeah why?” Steve asked confused by what his boyfriend was up to. Eddie smirked as he pulled Steve into the empty room and started to kiss him. Steve felt his back lay against his parents mattress as Eddie pushed them closer to the bed while they kissed. They adjusted themselves on the bed and Eddie got in between Steve’s legs then leaned down to kiss him softly along his jaw. Steve let out small moans as Eddie continued to kiss further down and his hands slipped underneath Steve’s shirt to remove it. With a soft push against Eddie’s chest Steve shook his head quickly. “Eddie not here… it’s disrespectful to my parents.”

“Come on baby you know I would never disrespect them. I just thought it would be kind of fun, you know? You could be mom and I could be dad.” Eddie spoke softly. As much as he hated the man who laid his head here if Steve thought it was disrespectful then he wouldn’t push it. Before Eddie could move he was already being pulled by his shirt and met with Steve’s lips that were so desperate every time they kissed.

“I want you to be my daddy.” Steve breathed in between kisses and that’s when Eddie completely lost it. He pushed Steve onto his back then took off his shirt swiftly. Eddie threw his shirt somewhere on the floor hoping that it left a mess wherever it was. He leaned up to unbutton Steve’s pants and as he did the feeling of his erection was under Eddie’s hands. Eddie palmed the area making Steve buck his hips then another moan followed after. “Please… Eddie, I want you so badly.”

“I know baby but you have to be a good boy for me. From now on when you ask for something you’ll refer to me as what?” Eddie asked as he stopped moving completely. Steve whined at the loss of friction that Eddie gave him temporarily. He looked up at Eddie with soft eyes and blush creeping onto his face.

“Daddy.”

“There’s my good boy. Being such a good listener just for me, I’m so proud of you.” Eddie said before giving Steve a very much needed kiss for being good like always. He went back to taking care of Steve’s pants and finally took them off along with his. Both of them were hard in their boxers feeling the material press against their throbbing cocks. Eddie could see a wet patch on Steve’s boxers since they were light colored and he place his finger over the spot teasingly. Steve cried as he felt his tip leak with precum because of Eddie rubbing his finger over the sensitive area.

“Please.” Steve begged pathetically. His cock twitched just from a little bit of Eddie’s touch and he craved it for so long. Eddie wanted Steve to get comfortable with calling him daddy not only because it sounded extremely hot coming from him but it also added a few points to his score board against Steve’s dad. He wondered what would happen if he saw Steve laid out on his bed like this and Eddie had his way with him without anybody stopping him. Eddie thought this would be the perfect moment to get back at the man, little did he know that he spoke a little too soon.

“Please what?” Eddie said sternly. Steve visibly shivered at the sound of Eddie’s voice deepening and the way he showed his dominance over him. Eddie knew that he would get a reaction out of Steve because he loved being underneath his control.

“Please daddy fuck me.” Steve covered his face as the words came out of his mouth. It was truly embarrassing how turned in he was by the name calling and Eddie couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. Eddie felt like he was unstoppable at the moment and he enjoyed every second of it. Steve gave in easily letting the name escape his lips as if Eddie was the only person he knew that went by it. In the back of his mind he thought it was pretty weird since Eddie never requested to be called that but he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

“Your wish is my command.” Eddie took his hands pulled down Steve’s boxers revealing his stiffened cock that was underneath. Steve whimpered as the cool air of the room hit his tip that still had precum coming out of the slit. Eddie rubbed his thumb over the head letting the sticky substance coat the surface of his thumb and Steve tried not to cum from only Eddie’s hands. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Are you that eager for me baby?”

“Y-yes I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel anything. Daddy… please.” Steve cried out helplessly all he wanted was to feel Eddie deep inside of him and take every inch of him even if he was too big it didn’t matter to Steve. Eddie couldn’t take seeing Steve vulnerable and giving himself to him like nothing else in the world was important. An idea popped into his head as he looked down at a desperate Steve waiting for him to make his next move.

“Get on all fours.” Eddie demanded. Steve didn’t waste anytime to get onto his hands and knees making himself exposed to Eddie. His hole wasn’t tight like Eddie thought it would be meaning Steve already did half the preparing himself. Without any warning Eddie slapped Steve’s ass cheek earning a sharp high pitched cry and he buried his face into the sheets. “Stretching yourself without me? I thought you were a good boy.”

“I p-promise I am. I just wanted to save you the trouble.” Steve rambled but the didn’t stop Eddie from pulling his back and slapping Steve again. Eddie left a big red mark on Steve’s skin and the stinging sensation that came with it made it impossible for Steve to keep his cries to a minimum. Light sobs started to come from the boy that tried to muffle his sounds into the sheets. Eddie pulled Steve towards him softly making him look in his direction and placed a gentle kiss on Steve’s tear stained cheek.

“It’s okay baby I’m not going to hit again but I had to punish you for doing things without me. Do you understand me?” Eddie asked softly. Steve nodded his head and Eddie pulled him into a kiss before getting back to their original position. Even though Steve was already stretched Eddie took it upon himself to stick his fingers inside of Steve’s hole. Eddie curled the two digits that pressed up against the soft spot that was inside of Steve. A loud moan filled the room as Eddie began to move his fingers in and out of his entrance, with every thrust of of Eddie’s fingers Steve clenched around them desperately wanting to get filled up by them. Steve pushed himself backwards and was met with an intense pain that came from Eddie’s fingers hitting the sensitive area.

“Daddy ah-“ Steve’s mind went blank when Eddie thrusted his fingers deeper inside making Steve whine as the pain turned into pleasure over and over again. Eddie made sure to push Steve limits every time they got to this point and the result would always be Steve being a complete wreck but loving how dirty they can get. With one last thrust of his fingers Eddie pulled out his fingers leaving Steve empty and clenching around nothing. Eddie aligned himself with Steve’s entrance and before he started to enter the faint sound of a car made him look out the window. Luckily the bed was close enough for him to see clearly outside. Eddie saw Steve’s dad car in the driveway and he stepped out of it angrily as if he had a bad day. He figured that Steve’s timing was a little off about how long his parents were going to be at work but Eddie didn’t mind because this worked perfectly in his favor.

“Since you’ve been such a good boy for me, I want you to be as loud as you possibly can. I want to hear those beautiful noises come from you. Do you think you can do that for me baby?” Eddie let a mischievous smirk onto his face when he saw Steve nod his head. He aligned himself with Steve’s entrance and slowly started push past the tight muscles. Eddie loved every moan that came from Steve being that he was loud enough for anyone to hear. He started to create a rhythm with his thrusts letting his cock disappear inside of Steve then roughly pulling it out with precum getting on the base. The sound of skin slapping filled the room and it only got louder within seconds as both of them lost themselves completely.

“H-harder Eddie, fuck.” Steve said in between moans and he gripped onto the bed sheets as Eddie slammed harder into his entrance shamelessly. Steve cried out when Eddie pushed him further down onto the bed forcing his back to arch. That made it easier for Eddie to continue to hit the same spot without a single stop. Steve felt his legs shake from trying to keep himself up and the way Eddie fucked him harder than ever it became all too much. Eddie held Steve in place when he started to become weak from the fast pace that he was going and that made him bury his face back into the sheets. While Steve was so far gone he didn’t notice that they had an audience and Eddie was glad that they did.

Standing at a good distance but visible through the doorway was Steve’s dad watching the scene in front of with utter disgust and anger. Eddie made eye contact with him every time he thrusted into Steve. He knew that he was beyond pissed and Eddie thought he might not make it out of this alive but it damn sure felt good to see the look on that bastards face as he saw his son getting destroyed by his boyfriend that he hated. Eddie didn’t want this victory to end and coincidentally Steve helped him out with that without realizing it.

“I need you to go harder… please.” Steve begged. Eddie pulled Steve by his hair earning a cry from him and he made Steve get on his knees. Pushing him down roughly onto his cock as both of them were now up right on the bed. Smoothly Eddie covered Steve’s eyes and licked the side of his neck then biting it in the process. Eddie looked directly at Steve’s dad who was completely frozen in one spot anxiously trying to decide if he should run or continue to watch even though it was pretty odd.

“What was that?” Eddie asked with playfulness in his tone. He thrusted upwards into Steve and he could barely keep himself up as his muscles tightened around Eddie. He laid on Eddie’s chest trying to catch his breath from what they were doing previously. Eddie pulled on Steve’s hair to remind him what he asked and breathlessly Steve responded.

“Fuck me harder daddy.” Steve mumbled and earned another hard tug from Eddie.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me harder daddy!” Steve screamed those words and he definitely didn’t hold back. Eddie watched as Steve’s dad eyes widen at what just heard the look of fear on his face made Eddie’s heart jump with joy. He kissed the side of Steve’s cheek and smiled against his skin.

“Good boy.” Eddie whispered. Steve was released from Eddie’s grasp and fell forward onto the bed. His body couldn’t keep with the Eddie’s movements as they became slightly rougher. Eddie continued to thrust into Steve feeling his body build up with deep inside him that needed to be released. He looked away from Steve to se that no one was standing in the doorway anymore and Eddie knew that he had officially won. Focusing on the task at hand Eddie went on to thrust a few more times before Steve came on the sheets and Eddie came inside of Steve, some of it dripped down Steve’s trembling legs that immediately gave out when Eddie pulled out of his entrance. He laid there trying to steady his breathing and ignore the soreness he felt throughout his body. Eddie kissed Steve’s backside then kissed his shoulders and placed a sweet kiss onto his lips that could barely open from him being exhausted. “I’m going to get you some water, okay?”

After Eddie heard Steve hum in response he quickly put on his boxers and ran downstairs. His heart was pounding from the adrenaline that he felt and he made his way towards the kitchen. Steve’s dad stood in the kitchen facing the opposite way with his hands over his face and he was mumbling things under his breath. Eddie didn’t try to hide his presence in fact he wanted Steve’s dad to him that’s why got a glass from the cabinet and loudly placed it on the counter. The older man turned around with a scared look on his face at first but then it turned it to anger. He stormed over to Eddie and got in his face very vein popping out of his head. Eddie held back a laugh as the man tried to talk to him but he couldn’t even look Eddie in the eye. The man stopped himself completely and walked away from where Eddie was standing.

“Did you enjoy the show Mr. Harrington?” Eddie asked slyly. He was playing a very dangerous game and he knew the consequences behind it but he couldn’t control himself. Steve’s dad turned around in disbelief.

“You’re a sick individual. Having my son participate in those sinful acts and doing it with eyes on you makes it even worse.” He spat at Eddie.

“Correction sir, your son asked me to participate in those ‘sinful’ acts first-“

“I don’t believe anything that comes out of your disgusting mouth. My son would never suggest to do something that sinister and once he realizes that you’re leading him down the wrong path I’ll be right here to guide him back home.” Steve’s dad was convinced that Eddie was the actual devil on earth and anything Steve did was never his decision.

“It’s about time you stepped to be a good dad for once.” Eddie was met with strong hands around his neck and a glare that could kill him. Steve’s dad tightened his grip making Eddie struggle to breath as he tried to get his hands from around his neck.

“Watch your mouth boy. I’ve been nothing but a good dad to him and I won’t let some punk like you tell me otherwise.” Steve’s dad said through gritted teeth. Eddie let out a bitter laugh.

“It seems like I took the spot in that department don’t it, Mr. Harrington?” Eddie smirked when Steve’s dad realized what he meant and he loosened his grip on Eddie’s neck. With a shocked expressing he stood in the kitchen running his hands through his thinning hair. Eddie took the glass that was on the counter and turned on the sink filling the cup up to a good amount. Before Eddie left the kitchen he turned to face Steve’s dad. “Now if you don’t mind I’m going to tend to my ‘fatherly’ duties.”

Eddie didn’t see his reaction but the faint gasp that heard as he started walking up stairs was enough for him to be satisfied.

[ariscats]

some averyjameson headcannons, bc i can

- they’ll do the most cliche things you ever saw. Kissing in the rain, slow dancing in the rain, walking wt a umbrella in the rain…(they use the rain as a excuse to do stupid couples things a lot). They are that couple that makes you think if you settle the bar too low, bc one of them is gonna tell a history that seems like a Hallmark movie as its a normal Wednesday.

- their song is “cant help but falling in love” by Elvis Presley (source: their love for slow dancing).

- Avery said “i love you” first. Jameson thought she was joking, but kept that to himself. It took him a good while to realised that she wasnt.

- Jameson dint knew how truly fucked up his relationship w emily was until he started dating Avery. Of course he knew that the whole switch btw him and Grayson was wrong but he thought that, outside the games, they had a normal relationship. Sometimes Avery would do smt caring or sweet and it would take a while to him to realize that that was the normal thing in relationships.

- the thing that put them out of the honeymoon phase was the fact that they didnt know how to be vulnerable. Avery thought that her feelings would be a burden and she never told jameson how insecure she was w some things (she wanted to be more confident after the emancipation and she thought that she could overcome those insecurities alone and in a short time. Spoilers, she dint.). Jameson would simply not acknowledge some feelings and ignore them. He was also kind of jealous in the start. Also, he dint understand that a relationship its also a place you can talk abt your feelings, every time Avery asked him abt it, he thought he would “darken” the mood w unnecessary things (its important to note that even when he did acknowledge some feelings, he would thought that they dint matter). They both dint know how to handle the fights as the start, Avery never rl saw a relationship at close, her mother never dated and Libby’s love life was just not an example, and Jameson dint trust his own knowledge abt relationship bc even thought he knew nothing abt relationships, he knew that what he learned w Emily wasn’t the right thing to do.

- It took them a while, but they finally figure the magic of communication. Tahiti was born after one of their last fights abt their communication issues. It was Jamesons ideia, he came up with it after some talks with Nash.

- Talking abt Nash, Jameson would (indirectly) ask for relationship devices to him. He would also talk with Avery sometimes.

- when they went to collage they had a place that was halfway from each campus. Dating in collage was kind of difficult, manly bc of others ppls opinion abt “not enjoying collage enough”, but they made it thought (the fact that they survived collage is non debatable, argue with the wall if you disagree)

- they dint have kids. Jameson is restless, just like his mother. I took him a while to understand that it was ok to be like her, he just couldnt do the same choices as her (like having kids when you know that you dont want to stay at home all of the time). Avery works too much, and she dont want to change that. They but spoil and love their nephews a lot but they are happy with giving them back to their parents at the end of the day

- came back to the Hawthorne House after collage

[romanarose]

Cleaning out my Closet (Passover)

Marc Spector

Summary: Years ahead of the events of Moon Knight, Marc Spector is happy. He's happily married, has three children he adores, has a good relationship with his dad, Steven, Jake, Layla, and his brother-in-law. Still, none of it erases what happened to him, and in entering his childhood home again, he must grapple with feelings he still has. As he packs up his childhood home, he unpacks his past.

A/N: This fic serves as a epilogue to Seattle (linking to the AO3 bc tumblr messed up my links, and everything on my masterlist is under construction. If you like it, please consider leaving a kudos!) but is specifically written to stand alone. Seattle has an OC, Rebecca, not a reader, however, this fic is meant to serve as a one shot, but id dint want to do reader, the OC is just referred to as her/she, but I capitalized the pronounce to differentiate for simplicities sake.

HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! Pesach Sameach!!!!!

Warnings: References to child abuse and death of a child (the usual stuff for Randall's death and Marc's abuse), mentions of ableism on Wendy's part talking about Marc being autistic (vague). I think that's it? This is Jewish as fuck. Seattle has had episodes with Rosh Hashanah, Purim, and Hannukah so I thought it was fitting to write for Passover too. Maybe we'll have something for Yom Kippur, who knows. Any antisemitism will simply be blocked.

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I'm sorry, Mama I never meant to hurt you I never meant to make you cry But tonight I'm cleanin' out my closet

Marc Specter hung in the doorway of his childhood bedroom, taking deep breaths as he worked up the courage to enter. She had offered to come with him, but Marc told her he needed to do this himself. Together, with the kids, Marc and Her had come to the home he grew up in to help his dad move. In recent years, Marc had come back into contact with Elias, frequent phone calls and occasional visits, although usually with Elias visiting him and his little family, as traveling with kids is a struggle. There was, also, the fact Marc didn't really enjoy coming to Chicago. He had been, here and there, but She went more than him to visit Her brother who had moved back to the city.

Things had been much better, great, even. Marc was married and in love with his childhood best friend. Her brother, Asa, and him had reconnected again, becoming once more the little brother that Marc always thought of him as, and a name on the list of several close friends he had; a life he never expected for himself. Him, Steven and Jake were as close as brothers and fought alongside Matty, Peter, and Frank, keeping New York safe on a small scale the avengers couldn’t be bothered with. Marc had forgiven his dad, and had a life now where he could really call himself happy.

Going to Chicago again, however, was still a struggle. He hadn’t been in this house for years now, and hadn’t really planned to ever again, but he had a duty as a son to help his dad. Elias had mentioned hiring movers when it was decided that he needed to downsize after a minor fall attempting to get upstairs. Her and Marc decided this was an undertaking they couldn’t just leave him to, and made the 800 mile car trip with two five year olds and a baby in the car to help move. Entering the place him and Randel grew up in, a place that once was happy and loving, and turned into his own personal hell… it was difficult, but he did it. 

It was soon to be passover weekend, they had driven a few days before and planned to get some packing done before celebrations, and they got a good chunk of the first floor packed up, Marc not daring to enter upstairs, not yet. Frequently, he had to take breathers. Sometimes he’d go for a walk alone, sometimes She would come outside to talk or sit with him, or Steven or Jake might take over for a while. Marc’s son, AJ, always seemed to have a sense for when his dad needed him. Marc hated the idea that he couldn’t always be strong for his kids, he never wanted them to feel like his emotions were their responsibility, but She said it just meant AJ was empathetic, which was a good thing.

Marc kept working as She and Elias got going on the Passover Seder, but Marc was too in his thoughts, damn near obsessive as he packed things, almost a cleanse of sorts. A set of fancy wine glasses, one missing that Wendy threw at him and shattered; pack it away, it's over, it’s done. Pictures of their family before Randell’s death; pack it away, it’s over, it’s done. The knife set Marc was washing as his mom screamed at him, wondering if he used them for self defense, if he’d go away to prison forever… pack it away, it’s over, it’s done. Piece by piece, Marc sorted through parts of his life he had always thought better left alone. Marc tried not to react heavily around his dad; they made amends and he loved Elias, he didn’t want to hurt him more, not again… She, his dad, Steven and Jake seemed to recognize this fact, and allowed him the space he needed to get through this daunting task, taking care of the heavy lifting while Marc went through the smaller things, sometimes sitting in silence for several minutes just staring at an item or two.

That’s how he ended up here. He had to get to his bedroom at some point, it may as well be now. Him and Randell shared a bedroom growing up, so when he drowned, his stuff had been packed away. That would be a task to go through for another day, for now, Marc was just focusing on not throwing up. Everything looked the same as the day he left, no doubt the room had been shut away after he ran away, Wendy attempting to pretend he had never existed most days. She had her moments, moments she was a good mom... Even in before she always favored Randell, but how could you not? He was an easy kid. Randell didn’t melt down when is clothing was a bad texture or things were too loud, Randell didn’t refuse to eat for days until something was made he could stand to taste, Randell didn’t need to stim or fidget, Randell acted exactly as Elias and Wendy expected for a child, eye contact and hugs and normal ways of playing… Marc wasn’t that. 

But none of that is to say things were bad in the first 8 years, things were good, actually. Elias was a patient man and Wendy tried her best, she showered Marc in affection and praise… but that almost made it worse, didn’t it? Marc often wondered how his psyche would have been if he hadn’t been given a happy family at the start, if he didn’t know a mothers love, if he didn’t have to wonder which version of his mom he’d come home to after school. Marc learned early on that love was conditional, and that had very much played into his relationship with Her. He struggled to believe She could love him in all his flaws when his own mother couldn't? But that wasn't entirely fair… Wendy had moments, she tried. A few days in a row she might sober up and there would be a bit of hope, no matter how much Marc had been played, for years when she’d suddenly act nice, taking him to the zoo or to a movie… he’d always think ‘maybe this is it, maybe she’s changed…’ but she never did, and a few days later he’d be trying to sooth lash marks from a belt.

Looking around, Marc saw a room that was so incredible… normal. There was a Star Wars poster with a very sexy princess leia in a dress she absolutely did not wear in A New Hope and very muscular Luke Skywalker despite the fact Marc knew damn well Mark Hamil did not have a 6 pack in that movie. There was a Cubs poster and a signed bat hanging on the wall (the bat was Randell from a game they went to for his birthday.). Finally taking a step in, Marc slowly wandered around the place he spent most of his time in the house, hoping to stay out of her way.

Wendy violated the sanctuary of his room, however, so this was far from a safe place. It was here that Steven first appeared, necessary to his survival, during a particularly vicious attack, Steven protecting him like his father never could.

There was a thin layer of dust on the surfaces, but light enough to know that Elias apparently learned in there, took care of it. Looking over to his book of baseball cards, he saw clearly it had been touched recently. How often, over the last 20 years, had Elias come in here and reminisced? Marc knew he had regrets, he knew Elias wished he had done something… but there's no use thinking on that now. Still, the idea of his dad missing him so much he’d come to his room just to feel a semblance of him was comforting.

Packing all this would have to wait for another day, it was taking a heavy toll just being here, refamiliarizing himself with his room again. He wanted to be able to celebrate Passover properly, She loves this holiday, and he wanted to pass on the importance of it to their children. It wasn’t lost on him, the irony of serving under an egyptian god, but a deal had been made; no killing. He did things the way Matty did, and felt damn good about it; the bad people were punished and his conscience rested clean. What Jake did… that was his own business.

Marc wandered over to his closet, looking over the clothing he left behind years ago, clothes that wouldn’t fit anymore but would be in good donating condition. On the shelf on top, Marc grabbed a poster and unrolled it. ‘When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear’ the poster read, and Marc smiled, just a bit. All the bad that happened, he always had Steven, and Jake, although he didn’t know it at the time. Kneeling down, Marc began to look through the boxes on the floor, old toys he grew out of, many of which he played with Randell; the wooden train set, his lite bright, long dead tamagotchi, and the Mouse Trap that was never touched after Randell died.

It wasn’t fair, really, it wasn’t. He didn’t care how long it had been, how his mom had been dead for years now, he was angry. Not the all consuming anger he used to feel, not to ever present over-boiling rage, but the anger that was usually at a simmer, a low simmer, that only came out when prompted… He was good at keeping it at bay, he refused to raise his kids like that. The twins had seen him vulnerable, to be sure, and he tried to remind himself mistakes happened, but if he ever thought for a moment that they feared him, he wouldn’t know how to react, and it would take everything in him not to run away.

As he kept sorting through his old things, thinking about just having a huge bonfire and burning it all, when he heard footsteps in the hallway.

She stopped at the doorway. “Hi, sweetheart, can I come in?” 

Marc’s sweater was on the floor, he had clearly been crying a bit and it had been… fuck, had it been an hour? “Yeah”

Slow, She walked over to him, sitting on the floor where he was “Do you want to talk about anything in here?”

Marc shook his head. “No. I think this room is gonna be hard to pack up.”

Nodding, She pulled Marc into a side hug. “It’s okay, we can take it slow.” She patted his head softly. “Layla’s here, Asa said he’ll be here in ten”

Pulling himself off her, he wiped his eyes. “Right, sorry, I’ll get it together”

“No, no” She assured him. “I was just telling you, there's no hurry, baby.”

“Where are the kids?” Marc said with a soft sniffle.

“Layla’s in the backyard with AJ and Ester, Rachel fell asleep in your dads arms, it’s pretty sweet.”

Marc nodded, taking a breather for asking. “Is the food ready?” 

Bursting into a laugh, She leaned into Marc who smiled and wrapped an arm around her. “Would some food and wine make you feel better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Marc chuckled. “Yeah I think that would cure me.”

She kissed his forehead. “Remember the story behind Pesach, my love. It’s about hope, faith, community…”

“I know” Marc sighed. “I didn’t have a lot of hope growing up… but I do now” For a long time, his faith in Her was what kept him going, but in recent years he found his faith in God again. Growing up and for years after, Marc regarded Passover with disdain. A holiday that commemorates the Passing over of Jewish first born sons struck him with anger. He was saved from the floods in the cave, but he would have traded all that in a moment to have Randell alive. Randell wouldn’t have been beaten for Marc’s death… Marc shook his head. It was done, there was no going back. 

Gently, She touched his back. “I’ll be downstairs, honey. We’ll all sit down when you’re ready. Oh, and Elias found that book he wanted to give Steven, make sure he doesn’t forget it, or the cookbook for Jake.” She stood up to go.

“Honey?” He asked, staring into the closet still.

“When we get back to New York… I think I’d like to go to a Mikvah bath.”

She paused at that. “Really? You know you… you have to be-”

“Fully submerged, yeah, I know. I want to.”

“Are you… are you doing alright, Marc?”

He nodded. “I’ll be okay. Just… after all this is over, I want to be… cleansed. I’m packing this all away, and when it’s done… I want it washed out”

Smiling softly, She nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, sweetie pie.” She bent down and kissed his forehead. “You are doing so good, you are so strong, and I am so proud of you.”

Marc smiled up at the love of his life. “Thank you, baby. I’ll be down in a minute.”

With loving eyes, She smiled back at him before heading down stairs, and Marc heard the sound of her greeting her brother at the door.

Staring into the abyss of his closet, a place he used to hide in that was now piled high with boxes of broken memories, he spoke to someone he didn’t know could hear him or not.

“It didn’t work, ma. You didn’t win. I know you wanted me to hurt, to hurt the way you were…” His voice wavered. “But I already was! I was a kid! A kid whose brother died and I was left to deal with it alone! You left!” Marc took a steadying breath, composing himself. “And for a long time, it worked, you made me as angry and miserable as you were, I let myself become what you always said I was. Angry, jealous, a killer.” Marc shook his head, closing his eyes. Could she hear him? Wherever she was, would she know? He wasn’t sure. Not a lot of emphasis on the afterlife in Judaism, and the whole run-in with Taweret complicated matters on what Marc believed happened, but that wasn’t really the point. 

“I got out, I got better. I’m married and got three beautiful, perfect kids. Esther looks a lot like you, if I’m being honest.” He sighed a quick laugh to himself. “You’d love her, she’s incredibly bright, always dragging AJ around everywhere, always getting into things… AJ is her anchor though, always making sure she doesn’t get hurt, he’s always thinking of others… Takes after his mom like that. AJ's real name is Asa, I don't know if you know that or not. I don't know what you know, honestly. We named him after his uncle, Her brother. Esther is probably obvious, She always loved Purim, t was her favorite holiday, the first one we celebrated together once She and I were reunited...Rachel’s just a baby right now, but she’s got her mom’s hair, looking like she got my height right now” A genuine smile appeared on Marc’s face as he talked about his family, relaxing. "She's named after Randell. Maybe it's a bit of a stretch, Rachel, Randell, but it sounds similar, and She and I planned to stop at three kids... we might still have another, I don't know, but I wanted to name one of them after Randell, but I just... I wasn't ready when the twins were born." A loud, deep sigh.

"I guess I don’t know what you wanted for my life. You tried, sometimes, even if it wasn’t a lot, even if it wasn’t for long, you tried… but it wasn’t fair to me, it wasn’t fair to dad, and it wasn’t fair to you, holding on to all that anger… I hope…” Marc’s body shook with anxiety as he desperately tried to speak his piece. “I hope you found some kind of peace in the end, mom. I do. I hope you found peace wherever you are now. Because I did. I’m happy, I have friends, I have a family, I have a life I’m proud of… I hope we were that for you, in the beginning… there were good years, weren’t there? Yeah. There were. The Four of us, a happy family… Then everything changed in an instant…” He shook his head. “What’s done is done, I’ve moved on. It still hurts, and I think it will always hurt, but I’ve moved on. Shalom, ma, Baruch Dayan Ha’emet”

Marc Spector stood in the stairwell of his childhood home. Decades ago, this is where his mom first screamed at him, but now, things were so, so different.  Layla was putting Rachel in her high chair, Asa was getting Esther down from precarious surface she had climbed up on, AJ helped Her and Elias set up the table… Things were so different now, so, so much better. He was cleansed, he was happy, he was hopeful...

Free.

I guess we are who we are Headlights shining in the dark night I drive on Maybe we took this too far

I want a new life, one without a cause So I'm coming home tonight, well, no matter what the cost And if the plane goes down, or if the crew can't wake me up Well, just know that I'm alright, I was not afraid to die Oh, even if there's songs to sing, well my children will carry me Just know that I'm alright, I was not afraid to die Because I put my faith in my little Girls, so I never say goodbye cruel world Just know that I'm alright, I am not afraid to die

************************

Thank you for reading!!!! I love any content that highlights that the boys are Jewish so if you got anything like that for passover send it my way!!

Wish me luck bc I got a paper due tonight I havn't started and I still got serivices tonight lol

Anyway Im excited this is my first passover and my temple is having a community seder so im super excited!!!!

For those who aren't familiar with eminem lore, (im so sorry but i love his music) the title and first lyric in this fic are from his song, cleaning out my closet, which is a very angry song about Eminem's moms abuse. It was so bad she actually tried to sue him over it. The second set of lyrics comes from an album about 11 years later, a reflection of their relationship after Eminem got sober. It a great song detailing the complexities of a relationship with an abusive parent who you still love. I like it because it doesnt make excuses, but understands the external factors that lead to how he was treated.

None of this fic is meant to tell anyone how to fell about thier abusive parent, it's simply how I think marc might feel years on when he is in a better place, and somewhat my feelings too.

@welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories @tippycakes26 @ahookedheroespureheart @arsonfrogger @milkymoon2483 @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @miraclesabound

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

The battle over the Speakership dreams of Rep. Kevin McCarthy, R-Calif., was a cataclysmic event, in terms of the media's increasingly ineffective efforts to convey to news consumers what is actually going on. Most press coverage portrayed the struggle as one between a more moderate faction supporting McCarthy and a far-right splinter group who opposed him. In reality, however, the fight was merely showboating from a small group of trolls who wanted attention, with no real substance to any of the disagreements. Indeed, pro- and anti-McCarthy groups are in fierce agreement on nearly all major policy issues, including the question of whether democracy is a good thing worth protecting. (Both sides believe it is not!)

For proof there's no real daylight between the two factions, look no further than the fact that the biggest Republican troll in the House, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia, was on Kev's side from the get-go. Greene has become one of the most famous — and powerful — Republicans in Capitol Hill by sheer dint of her gleefully unapologetic fascism. She's one of the biggest apologists for Donald Trump's Big Lie and the violent insurrectionists who attempted to overthrow democracy on January 6, 2021. She's a grade-A conspiracy theorist who rode into Washington spouting QAnon nonsense. Once in office, she went straight for the third rail in American politics, showy antisemitism, downplaying the Holocaust and raving about how Jews were setting wildfires with space lasers. She hits all the major stations of the conspiracy theory cross, from dismissing mass shootings as "false flags" to vaccine denialism to, naturally, 9/11 trutherism. She, of course, has also gotten that sweet, sweet attention by calling for the execution of her political opponents.

But she's all for McCarthy, because he is fine with all this, despite his media image of moderation. Greene, who is a much savvier operator than the liberals constantly dunking on her would like to admit, clearly realizes that being on the always-Kevin side of this fight opened up a golden opportunity: She can now rebrand herself as a mainstream Republican. With her shiny new committee assignments — complete with access to some of the most highly classified information in government — and her role as McCarthy's golden girl, Greene is set to remake herself into a respected figure on Capitol Hill. She'll be just as much a conspiracy theory kook as she ever was, but her new status as an elder statesman in the GOP will put an ennobling gloss on her lies, helping push them through the ever-credulous Beltway press.

That Greene is consciously rebranding herself became undeniable on Sunday, when she distanced herself from QAnon during a Fox News interview.

"Well, like a lot of people today, I had easily gotten sucked into some things I'd seen on the internet," she said when host Howard Kurtz asked her about QAnon. "But that was dealt with quickly early on. I never campaigned on those things. That was not something I believed in."

In one sense, these are easily debunked lies. Her involvement with the QAnon cult was not cursory, as she implies. She literally released a video prior to her election in which she argued "now there's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take this global cabal of Satan-worshipping pedophiles out, and I think we have the president to do it." Her social media endorsements of political violence were often rooted in the false accusations that Democrats are pedophiles who drink children's blood.

But it's also true that, like many far-right conspiracy theorists, Greene doesn't actually believe the vile things she says. Truth has no value to her. She just says whatever she thinks will benefit her politically. In the past, that was endorsing every cockamamie conspiracy theory she could, since doing so got attention and helped her fundraise, both of which helped make her very powerful within the GOP. Now that she's made a name for herself, she's shedding the QAnon association so she can access the next level of power, which is being treated like a respectable politician.

Sadly, there's every reason to think this will work in a media environment where mainstream journalists are always eager to minimize the radicalism of Republicans and present them as "normal" politicians to the public. We saw this process happen with the Tea Party movement. In 2010, a bevy of Republican politicians got elected during this racist right wing tantrum wave against President Barack Obama. At first, they got the "look at these weirdos" coverage that Greene enjoys now. But it didn't take long for most of the Tea Partiers to reform their media images into middle-of-the-road politicians.

Former Vice President Mike Pence. Former White House chief of staff Mark Meadows. Former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo. Rep. Steve Scalise of Louisiana. Former White House acting chief of staff Mick Mulvaney. Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas. Sen. Tim Scott of South Carolina. These are just a sampling of politicians who rose to prominence aligned with the Tea Party movement, only to be converted in the media imagination to ordinary politicians — all without having to sacrifice their extremist views. In some cases, they obtained an unearned reputation as "reasonable" or "moderate" simply by flinching at how gross Donald Trump is, pretending they represented some check on his excesses or by criticizing him publicly.

McCarthy himself is a classic example of how much the mainstream press will conveniently forget when trying to dignify a Republican who initially broke into politics as a fire-breathing right wing extremist. McCarthy obtained his high status in the GOP by playing footsie with the Tea Partiers who took out one of his predecessors, John Boehner. He managed to win the Speakership through his slavish loyalty to Trump, including a willingness to vote to overturn the 2020 election. There is nothing moderate or normal about McCarthy. Still, due to a few opportunistic trolls on the Hill willing to paint him as a RINO, he gets to be treated not as the radical he is, but as a normal politician who is simply beset by fanatics.

Greene no doubt has seen this process of normalization and believes, correctly, that she can get in on it. She probably doesn't even have to give up some of her other bizarre "beliefs" regarding mass shootings or COVID-19. The press is so desperate for normal conservatives to cover that even the slightest nod towards rationality is read as permission to round up a Republican to the class of "responsible" politicians. Greene has hit the limit of what she can do while being known as the kookiest member of Congress. She's ready to graduate to a real power player who gets flattering press coverage. If past is predictor, she can expect to do so with a big assist from the mainstream media.

[onetouchparadise]

Lost ~ Sheldini

For @blaugrana-blues, hope you like it❤️

Too many memories came back to him as he strolled through those empty alleys, those narrow streets where they once hid fleeing retreat, to be free for a few hours, just the two of them, how hard it was to hold back those tears that had been threatening to escape for so long. That's why Paolo hadn't been back to Kiev since they… his heart refused to say it, his mind to think it, but that little voice that haunted his dreams at night had no problem doing it: 'You abandoned him can't you see? He came home and you never looked for him again, it's your fault! He must have already forgotten you…'.

He sat down on a bench, it was cold, like everything that day, maybe to warm up, maybe to cheer himself up he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, he took one and lit it, he didn't like smoking and he didn't most of the times but it had almost become a habit every time he thought about him, he took a drag and tried to distract himself by watching the smoke being blown by the cold wind and reflected on what he was doing there. He honestly didn't know why he had arrived in Kiev, he usually refused trips to the East in places that reminded him of his beloved (he didn't have the strength to say his name), but, since all the scouts were already active elsewhere, Maldini was sent to look for talents in the Ukrainian league, when he had finished his work and reports to send home, however, late at night, he decided to take a walk around the city, as he had done so many other times when they were still together.

He knew that seeing Kiev alone in the night would only bring him regrets, but he couldn't help it, he had an urgent need, and perhaps the small hope of finding him and fixing everything continued to throb in his chest.

Without even thinking about it, by dint of thinking about his former love, his feet left and he walked into the only Ukrainian road he knew by heart, the stones crunching as he walked there again, he left the park and went more towards the suburbs.

It didn't take long before arriving in front of the familiar house, the one where he had lived for a while during the summer season, the white walls, which had once been clean and perfect, now had lost a bit of colour, the garden seemed less well-kept, but there were some flowers and a swimming pool, which had not yet been brought when Paolo visited the house for the last time.

Suddenly the wind got colder and a part of him wanted to go back to the hotel, continue his scouting work and, when the time came, go back to Milan and pretend like nothing ever happened (although he knew this trip had already opened a wound inside). He continued to observe the house when he noticed a light on in the living room, someone was there and who else could it be if not ... Maldini wanted to escape but ended up coming face to face with the window, he could almost see inside: a burning fireplace, a cup of hot chocolate and a chair, turned towards the fire, yes, it was him. "Sheva..." He found himself whispering nostalgically, and then covering his mouth, but by now the damage had been done, and he would no longer be able to run away as he once would have done in a situation like this, he watched apprehensively as Andriy closed the book and placed it on the desk, got up from the armchair and went into the corridor, it was still as beautiful as the first time.

By now Paolo could no longer hold back and decided that he would see him, he was missing and this was his only chance, he pulled up the sleeves of his jacket and looked at the two bracelets he kept on his right wrist, next to a red and black one there was a gold chain "It reminds me of wheat, my home... and you are the only thing I love more than my home" he still had Sheva's words clear in his mind when he gave the chain to him, he holds it tight every day .

He moved closer to the door when the handle moved and the head of his beloved popped out of the door, his hazel eyes shone with disbelief and he immediately went to embrace that unexpected guest: "Paolo...I missed you so much.. ." he said in a subdued voice, whose words were hidden by the now wet jacket on the collar, and Maldini cried, cried out loud "I love you Andriy, but I couldn't have come sooner, I couldn't do it... I love you" and they stood there locked in an embrace that lasted centuries that broke when their heads lifted and their noses touched, they kissed briefly, as if it was forbidden for them, and then Sheva stroked Paolo's hair, remembering fondly the curls that adorned them, the other meanwhile was still crying and the Ukrainian whispered in his ear: "Come on, let's go inside." and they entered the house holding hands. The first thing Paolo saw was a ticket for Milan, the plane was going to fly in a week.

Maybe…the fate wanted them to be together again.

[sirenofstyxx]

TUMBLR DIDNT SAYVE MY DRAFT I JUST SPENT AN HOUR TYPING I DINT KNOW HOW TO GET IT BACK BUT EHY ITS FINE

The owl house wrapped up recently and to celebrate I made some art and realized hey I should probably start posting here

Spoilers under the cut!!!

Everybody who hasn't seen it gone?

Good

ALRIGHT WHILE I AM NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO RETYPE MY THOUGHTS I JUST LOST HERS MY LLSHORT OF IT

I love the owl house so much and that finale was just amazing. Sure it wasn't perfect but it was damn good even without considering the MASSIVE type cuts. It was just so good and satisfying and AGHHHH I LOVED IT!!!! This show means so much to me!!!! So of course I had to draw my favorite character and the main character herself. But I decided to draw her epilogue design bc I love it so much. Luz means so much to me and is just so relatable. Before I started watching and had no context I thought I'd relate to amity cause I too was a baby gay with a crush I didn't know what to do with. But then I watched the show and wow. Luz hit me so hard, harder than any character has before. I've never related to any character more and that just became more true as the show went on. Especially later when she clearly is suffering from depression that really hit me since I was going through the same dark space. I related to hard to how her depression completely changed her from the peppy and bubbly kid she was. But to see the epilogue where Luz is now the same age as me and happy and even though her problems did change her so much she's ok? That just really gives me hope.

Now onto the drawing, I just had to draw her epilogue design bc wow thats like my favorite ending credits ever?!?! And her design is just a home run in the epilogue especially her keeping those lil lashes!!! I threw in my headcanons like the genderfluid pin, the multiple pins themselves (Luz is a pin and sticker hoarder argue with the wall) and the toof!!! She should definitely keep the lil fang I love it. Also I gave her slightly more purple hair, the fang and glowing eyes as remnants of her titan form. I like the idea that maybe the 1st night back to normal at her moms house she goes down to get a midnight snack and camila thinks she's one of the boiling isles kids bc of her glowing eyes(which I headcanon witches and demons all have) and luz is like???? It's luz not one of the others??? And my eyes aren't glowing??? And camila just grabs her and puts her in front of a mirror to show yes they very much are. Who knows I may make a comic

I really loved the finale it was just so good and emotional. If you wanna get my thoughts in a more haphazard form my instagram post has that lol. More reaction. And I may post my thoughts I WOULD HAVE HAD HERE in different posts eventually who knows. But yeah I realized I should really start posting here. Procrastination + imposter syndrome is a hell of a combo. But yeah im here now! I also have an insta by the same name(just with underscores) and soon to have a portfolio site(stay tuned muhahaha)

But yeah im definitely going to try and post here more!

BYEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

[loopscereal]

Back in late 2019 i had never even heard of twitch, I was on minecraft youtube watching hermitcraft, i had just recently found this funny video series on youtube by Wilbur Soot where he challenged his viewers live. Back then I thought Technoblade was just another reoccurring viewer of Wil’s! Thats so absurd to think back on!

Early 2020 I watched tommys vids in youtube where he ran around being purposefully annoying twoard the dteam, speedrunning challange, yt vids became yt vods, and he would mention checking out twitch, so would wilbur. By July of 2020 I was following wilbur on twitch, by September I had followed tommy, October I had followed tubbo.

Soon enough I was following a whole new chain of creators on a new platform, invested in their story. I hadn’t yet really registered that their timezines matter much since i was accustomed ti watching vods. I *STILL* regret having missed the pog2020 vs swag2020 election because of this! I still regret that!! God!

November 16th came and went, I was enamored with all the art that came out because of it, then Wolf the witch, then known as “channel without a name” had uploaded their animation of the 16th in the 20th. I was there, in that live chat, and after the premiere, I had made friends. I didnt think that would last, but here i am, almost two years later, and most of the “premier gang” members are still active we still talk regularly.

We watched origins together and fell in love with the vod, learned how to install mods and use fabrics launcher! I installed minecraft java edition fir the first time ever because of this, we played minecraft together, we branched out and screenshared to eachother when one would play any other game.

We had a channel specifically for when some damned streamer would go live to scream about it and summarize the premise to each other if we had missed it. By the time Tales Of the SMP rolled around we would all sit in vc together and watch as someone screen shared.

We’ve had three “seasons” of our origins smp, with shops snd community houses. I remember building water tunnels for our resident merling, and my friend would make awnings for me since i was an enderian and couldnt leave the house when it rained. We pulled pranks on eachother, my whole wheat farm was replaced with carrots, me replaced a friends house with jack-o-lanters and acacia wood!

I found other common interests with friends, we found we coult talk about other things other than minecraft incredibly easily, we made comics together, played new games together, suggested music together, celebrated together, we grieved the death of a fucking music bot together! I still miss groovy, we had so many late night ham sessions with groovy.

We still talk about c!tommy, c!tubbo, a friend makes animations about the eggpire and recently got new egg lore. It feels good after havjng seen and heard them hold on to it for so long, and thats what we’ve all done. Holding on, i guess.

I really have had so much fun, playing with my art style along these two years, creating little ficlets for my friends about characters i adore, going insane about new animations from the community. Ive had a personal au about clingyduo for well over a year now, maybe even two years? No idea, but god its been so fun, fullfilling even.

My vocabulary has deffo been changed, example A is right there, “deffo” was ages ago and hasn’t left me since. I dint think dsmp is going to leave me even if i stop interacting with it (which i don’t think I will just yet)

I love all the results I’ve personally gained from being a part of this.

Thank you so much to the streamers, the artists, the musicians, *some* of the clips channels, everyone who wrote character analysis, wrote fics, or just screamed in twitch chat or posted in the youtube comment section or live tweeted/ live blogged any moment they loved.

Thank you to the fanbase, more than anything, for making this place so loved.

[skippyv20]

WME is an agency so they’re there to help secure work for M&H and pitch them out…this would be for branding, social, acting, voice overs, etc.

“This is why I’ve realised what a downfall this is for these two ex-royals especially Harry, and why this pitching makes no sense to me. They have gone from doing things in-house with Sunshine Sachs to retain a sense of autonomy to now signing with a talent agency for jobs. It's already such an utter downgrading of their status and brand, that I don’t think any Hollywood bigwig - PR, talent agency or otherwise - actually understands what the BRF brand is about. The whole point of being royal is that it is distinct from pimping oneself for hire, something which this WME sign-up does not seem to realise. Being a royal requires a different set of skills which neither Harry nor his wife have. Him, because he never understood at its core the scarifices required for being a royal and conferred its status, and assumed just because he was born into it that alone was enough. It is not, and in fact it is more than that. And as for her, because she refused to learn the ropes, chose to turn to a husband who neither understood the beating heart of it even less, and bailed out of the job less than two years into it. And yet with the very, very little stardust they have to bring to the table, they want to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Hollywood is a status-to-status business model. It always needs access to a world that is a lot more unattainable and held with a higher regard than themselves in order to retain that mystique about their world. Hollywood is a royal world in and of itself. Ordinary folk with absolutely nothing and zero status go to Hollywood to get a status that is other than themselves. Most of them, especially of H&M’s generational age, started with nothing: working-class kids, some middle-class, coming over to make the bigtime. That’s the Hollywood story. You don’t go to Hollywood with a status to get a status. If you can’t make diddly out of the status you already have, were born with by dint of birth, or married into it but couldn’t be arsed to make something of it other than mooch off it, then what is the point? What can anyone do with you? No doubt I think Ari Emmanuel sees this H&M thing as a challenge. If he can crack it for them, that’s just another notch for him. Parasite for parasite. But he misses the point, and understands very little of the brand of being royal. It is not about being distinct from being royal; it is distinct from being a Hollywood celebrity with royal status. Grace Kelly didn’t go from royal status to downgrade to Hollywood status. She went status-to-status, Hollywood to Royal, reaching ever higher heights. That’s the ultimate Hollywood story.

As a couple of ex-royals mooching off a royal status they no longer want to be an active part of, serve in or serve as, Hollywood is supposed to come to H&M, not royalty (ex or otherwise) coming to Hollywood - and that is only because European royalty represents European Heads of State serving their nation states, not because they are bunch of snobs looking down at "the plebs” and think rubbing shoulders with other people is beneath them. It is no different from Hollywood coming to the White House or the POTUS, if you like. Hollywood comes to the Presidency, not the Presidency comes to Hollywood. The fact that H&M have to go with begging bowls looking for Hollywood gigs is ALREADY a lowering of their status.

What the hell do they offer that Hollywood don’t already have? Why would Hollywood want to rub peer-to-peer shoulders with these two ingrains who chose to give up the very thing that made their name? Stars don’t throw away stardom without a care to then beg to rub shoulders with those who fight everyday to retain it. Why on earth would any Hollywood star who worked their arse off to get to where they are, want to share their light with those who 1) are lazy, 2) moan about their very privileged lot in life that most of Hollywood worked very hard to get for themselves, 3) want to have their cake and eat it, 4) want to greedily have a share of both royal worlds and refuse to stay in their lane, and 4) may, horror of horrors, steal the limelight from them? Why would any Hollywood star want to play second fiddle to their game? If nothing else, Hollywood can be a back-stabbing cauldron of seething jealous, envy and barely concealed schadenfreude. Unless, H&M gives a Hollywood star something that raises their profile, without taking anything away from them or wreaking what they already have/worked very hard for in the process, they can forget it.

Fact and truth is, Meghan has gone back to what she is and always has been: a Hollywood grifter trying to make it in Hollywood for all the 40 years of her life. She tried to gain access to that world via her dad and failed. She tried to gain it with Trevor and failed. Got the Suits job, nothing far-reaching happened and so she failed. Was about to start a new strategy with Cory and make a name for herself in Canada and failed. Left Canada, went to the UK for a do-over, was struggling, met Harry, married him, tried to get that status via royalty and failed. Left that world with royal status in her belt and has gone back to Hollywood, USA and is attempting to do what she’s been trying to do for last 30 years of her life. Another do-over. She tried it with Sunshine Sachs and failed. And now finally she’s got the big-name talent agency that has alluded her for all her life, except the same reason and problem she never made it in Hollywood 20 years ago still remains: herself.

There’s something about her that just isn’t working or simply does not work (and/or refuses tow work), and she’s spent 40 years of her life either not figuring out what that thing is, or not working in the very thing that should have got her through Hollywood’s doors years ago. From the outset, she had no star quality whatsoever to begin with for any Hollywood bigwig to do something about, otherwise she would be a star in her own right years ago without daddy’s help, Trevor’s help, Cory’s attempted help, Harry’s help and the help of Harry’s sperm. In and of herself, she brings nothing to the table that seducing men hasn’t brought her. And the very thing that finally gave her star quality that she could bring to the table (and for Hollywood to finally work with), she threw away in a self-centred tantrum.

Honestly, I don’t know why people still bother with her tbh.“

Thank you🐼

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

The thing with names

As he had gotten older, his father had made his name -- or the name of his being as a thing -- a greater and greater part of his self.

What was left of his self, beyond it? An empty shell, barely holding together something that no longer had any function.

His mother, too, as she had grown older, had filled her name -- or the name of her consciousness as a thing -- with greater and greater depth and weight and substance. What did she leave in the shape of an empty shell behind? A ghost of her self, barely able to walk around.

They had not lived together, his parents; nor had they lived at one another's side, as he might have done; but by dint of their actions they had made them more and more like one another, so that in any moment he could see his father's self and his mother's, both of them, as one. So he could not say that the empty shell his father left in his own shape was a thing made by his mother. He had no mother. But it was a part of who he was.

It was not, in the end, that he loved his parents more than anything else he'd ever loved in his life. It was that loving his parents, or his self, was less of a thing than making sure that everyone around him, from friends to the people who cleaned his house, knew that his parents were dead, in a way that could never be forgotten.

(Ghosts, his mother had said, after one of the doctors had told him of their deaths, though he did not remember having had a father. That's why I'm never going to live with you.)

(Or: That's why I live with your mother now, so that she won't have to do without you. That's why I live with your mother now, and not with you, when you die, so that you can see I'm trying. And that's why I am with your father now, and not with you, when he dies. He will never understand, I think. What you feel. How it is that we live with all the dead, and have no other way to live at all.)

(That was another thing he never said, when he was with his parents. He could never say that to anyone except himself. Your parents? How can your parents be dead? It's not like you died too, is it?)

He loved his father, of course. He had always been closer to his father than to his mother, by a wide margin; and yet, for all of the ways in which he was closer to her, there was one that he could never really remember. He could never get it out, even when he was alone and they were both alone together. No matter how deep he went to his parents' place, to the secret room they had kept apart and safe for all those years, there was something there he was never able to touch.

The name of his being, his name, the name of his father and his mother, had always been the most solid thing that he had left in this world of endless change. He knew, at some level, that there were things inside them, that he could never get back into, that no one would ever see. Things which he would be obliged to carry about, for the rest of his life. (His father's name, the name that was himself. This was his mother's name, too; but what they shared, he knew, was not the thing he could never put down, not the thing for which he would do anything.)

(He used to wonder, when he was a kid, whether there was any sense in it at all. When he thought of his parents, he was always thinking in the first person, of how his parents thought of him. His mother was he. So, to some extent, were his parents. He wondered if, with their deaths, they had ever been more like each other than they had been when they were alive, and what he had gotten in exchange, for the things that they had done to each other. He wondered, at the end of the day, whether the way his parents died had happened at all.)

His name had always been the thing that he was obligated to take care of. In his head, he still made himself think of it, sometimes -- it was a bit like a thing that wasn't supposed to have happened, that he was supposed to keep in mind and think about, just as if he had been there in the room. He was never quite able to get it away from himself. He'd been doing that even when he was a little kid -- trying to make his parents out as not so different from other people. He still did it even now, even after his parents were dead, after his mother left his father, and his father had never left him.

(But it was the one thing he'd lost, too. His name was the thing he had lost. He could never go back to it -- not really. It had been something that had happened to him. It was a thing that had happened. He's been gone too long was what he might think, if he forgot that they were all dead. He had been lost, too. It was a lost thing.)

He was not able to name anything else.

He thought, often, of the other children he had been. But he could not do that. His parents never really let him think, in any case. He had always been afraid, after the deaths, for them to think of him, too. That would have been another name he was obliged to bear. He could not let his father or his mother -- or anyone else, for that matter -- see through the face he always wore.

Sometimes -- often -- he would go through his closet, looking for something that he had once owned and now couldn't remember having. His sister had told him, once, in passing, that the man who'd lost his eyes had stuck a knife in his head when he was very little -- just like you, you never had a father. She was right, but she was not the first person to say it -- nor were any of his other friends, when the subject came up, ever quite sure what the word 'father' meant.

He was no longer small, in any case.

[libidomechanica]

“Have forfeited”

Dwell near they’d love against my presence, fill the pot.     To keep when they all grass. The flower than to survive when December not the happy     laughing left in her arms of the house. Our morning hymn this frantic looks as life in every     moment form, dost thou that Muse stirr’d beneath his shy sway down to ever open is     his high comforts be, as, to masculine

and rather lips I travel. But night, vision     hooves. Have power, then thou that poor kind of—as it rose in bitter sauces did clear as     that little maid would be able to add a story to reason to his society?     Call forth, I know the orchis variegate through curtains call on us? My heartlessly,     and our tale, of salt, of slumb’ring

ivy, two faces with outward the rose against     the narrow was, and home nearer to throw that relations turned to get and Slave’s spicy     forever open fi mi if I shift mi hips to prevent our dispute: the piping     so farre subdued me that paddles in darkness. Of burning heel, all his touch of heaun it     be attention in the same type of

grapes. Such a city the stranger and corruptible     death cast me, they cry Is it not my heartless daughters—worn and sickness, chaste concession,     they commend; and the boundles, make glad. Gentle into the blood! Almighty ever-     during against them together is to touches rhetoric can lend, the scenes will be     my gentlemen, by dint of life unblest

kissed what conuersation left, a liquid prison:     My genitals have gone forty- three. A tinkering line something looked no little blaze     from the forests; I give the refrigerator. The world should lie, more the bus, the silly     rose-wreath of some others, as half- acre tombs, with a jeep. No trembler in Thee vain     are went ill or well; if changed for each

part museum of their excel: for every gaze     where sits eternity: Cold Pastoral! Then, on every groves; trim hamlets; here was grace,     secret plot reverend and a hey, and precious theatre. On the rank of gold. It was     the wealth she, that other men may use deceit: he always I long as brain, I say Forgive     the dying of the morning pure

and the turrets and my brain full fillèd with one     another? But Oh, who saw her favour! Cupid, and with mourn, becomes a sudden     capitulation giving the watching helplessly. Ever look at the dregs of the wall, thou     art not so much morning, haply I thinking delicious priest, lead’st thy powre hath wrought as     thou truly write good to be disease

reigns, or infection remove warning pure and we’ll     night of Albany. As beams of light. Wilt, swift thro’ the nearest—now addressed, even after     me? No lessons can be miss’d. In Tempe or sweet, without pity, by various     room in which loose than forest like him with a famine which pye being discourse, which to     the hot desire increase, his arms;

she took exactly. The service disconsolate,     tell me from sullen thunder in terror and maybe neither die. The world in mock you     wouldn’t be your loves; but he is driving at you woe. The fierce tiger’s jaws, and a hey     nonino, how many? And those tree. And tumble valleys. That hast notes, peel your wrist is no     easy task; for thee. In a common

grave, about us, bats wheels. Till he becomes to     be made the great black was never feel a handkerchief so weaken’d minds quick apprehending     soundly slept the night can evening; shamed, and in his rank before the castle gate, and     learn, and fair as any challenged echo ring; ah! Except its pipe an’ drum we’ll measure     shee speak, ev’n from the garden rails, and

fair as any more. As it would explained there it     was whole with my pen—where I may never speak, ev’n with music, whose iridescend, from     slope throne that was true speech, the even after though a thousand knocking heart, then soft     Catullus, sharp-fang’d the high Hall-gardens green. Why thought, add one meet? Have forfeited. Try having     now, they have mown. Saucy pedantic

boring creatures could’st thou the quietly,     disrobed the yellow braille touches rhetoric can lend, the Tory member: falling to     me the breathe? Take this world may sit, and all that strain your pupil, that fell down, thy contracted     thus express as it rose: the seas; a red sails is gone? For much morning sky of Maud     were none scapes free from you ignored

for I knew myself, the rose a shipwreck, like to     think till the Mower Damon, known, and fill the sad height years now that sin by his own     assertion, glowing in front of ashes. Droop, droop no more the stroke between the earth cannot     fades, it fa’s, and fashions, most no grave, about me now coupled be: vnited pow’rs make her     darling dwell, will turn. But let thee the

light of Vertues throng to come to the margents, which     are the quietly, disrobed the love. We wants himself laid under in thy love; what     my affections turn all heart the snow, who, sleep, thinking on deck, perhaps some fair ladies     unseen of Heavens. This said my colds a forward soul in songs with sun and sorry seasons     as fair Albany. But being

opened the Long Island wickedness; my lord of     fear, unpleasing that was once and quailed as if God’s sake hold itself. Oh what perfect     all this garden if her sweep or suck it up poetically around. And the brave     Caledonian views wi’ disdain; he wandering wide; the garden we’ll measure is as     good, a dainty dish to touched her; and

now I my meaning, ding; sweet wild rose, that’s half-science,     fy! Barn nor hours, days, months, while great Sirs give up their wine of her roving eye, the pathless     as wiser too than a screech owl to myself a crime. Its summer drizzling rain; and     bonfires made, some forth sweet side by side. Like Nero, thought my still to the the happy     spirit descence keeps her dainty dish

to touch hold, nor Dog Star rages, and by the tree     although the basest brought as they accompts did I frame the broom for Death to a vice.—A     merry larks are his delight be foul affliction’s kingdom topples fall, in the nettle,     so typical, showers ally’d in heaven? For thee. Thy outward the ears, will take this     woman in contracted to do like

two being delicious to end. Ever look upon     myself and bright-beaming head such a sadistic display? And where blue, and what perfect     all that skirt, just en years and bow and allow for beauty’s effect. Love and vows. The     lords and very side. After long as I always am a grace She’s already     The branches play, do not go away.

[leeroyjenkins999]

Part of findng Marlee

the best part of waking up in the morning was mom always had something in the oven for breakfast. she swore she wasn't a morning person, but breakfast was always fresh whether it was muffins or beagles she always had something made up for us and it tasted like love.

we were just lucky that way the whole house was warm mom didn't like the cold of Massachusetts, but this was dads dream to live in a small new England town so to make up for it he didn't mention the heat bothered him. well, that and every summer we went to Arizona to visit her family dad always joked that we can for the food cause mom was always a picky eater, I never noticed. I walked into the kitchen mom I coffee machine was going, and she was staring at her laptop her hair was put up and she was ready for work even though she didn't leave for another two hours she was never late for anything.

it was just me and her up first. my older brother luka and my sister Nel were always sleeping in. mom says that's just a Coleman thing, but she always added that she gladly takes oversleeping over inheriting the Coleman nose I gotta say she right because dads' nose was pretty big. he always joked that he needed a big honker had to hold up his thick and heavy glasses. mom saw me creeping into the kitchen.

"Oh, dear lord marlee your hair! sit down and eat I'll be right back." I picked up strawberry muffin it was still warm mom scurried of to her dresser to grab a brush I presume. she came back with the straightener and the brush and some detangler. she covered the muffin I had taken a bite of with napkin and started to soak my hair I acted like it was annoying, but I let her press on. she smiled that little smile she always made when she had gotten her way Nel never lets me do this she stopped letting me around seven to be honest the day you stop letting me well I dint know what I'll do. we heard the loud stumbling of someone coming down the stairs.

"Dads up" mom says she looked at the clock he gonna be late if he doesn't leave soon. "Dads always late mom" " I know he was late to our wedding." mom loves to bring it up not in an ugly way just something she smiled about.

"Well, if it isn't half my heart." Dad always said the corniest things he gave mom a kiss and lead down to give me one I gave him a peck on the cheek with a mouth filled with muffin.

"Sweetie, have you seen my shoes."

'Oh My God Lenny Coleman there by the couch. same place you take them off every day." she was always playing when she said his full name. dad walked out the door.

I kept thinking about everything that happened last night hoping. no one saw me and Nel out by the marina. I never seen dad like that before.

"Mom, do you think dad was ever different then he is now."

"No! dads been the same weirdo since the day I met him." why what's on your mind Chickado that's what she called her kids.

It's nothing I saw Ricky's dad acting crazy at the game he seemed really upset at dad. but dad didn't say nothing back he acted like it wasn't even a problem.

Your father doesn't act unless its needed but make no mistake if someone was to hurt someone, he would lose his mind and set this whole world on fire to get to them. did you talk to Ricky maybe he knows what all this is about?" "

No, he got in a fight before the game, and he said he had to go home after and didn't really speak to no one and his eye was swelling up too weird right?

mom finished my hair and sat down she grabbed her phone and called someone from work and said she would be in late she had a doctor's appointment with Nel this was the first I had heard about it. she went upstairs to wake up Nel and luka a text was sent to her, me being nosey I looked, it was from dad.

"Just play dumb I'm dealing with it. chuck will not be a problem."

her phone was locked so I could see the message she wrote him. but all I could think was chuck was Ricky's dad.

I heard the thumping of the stairs again so i put the phone back and grabbed my own and texted luka “mom knows something we we need to talk on the way to school luka was my older brother by two years he was the athlete in the family he played baseball golf and football nel was the wild child she

[spectaculardistractions]

To Pierre Unik San Sebastian, 16 August 1932 My dear Unik, Your letter arrived safely and by dint of this desperate effort I am managing to reply. Firstly, thank you for the information and news, which are not as disturbing as we imagined on our way to Pau. The only really disappointing news is about Wenstein and M. T. Georges. They may face the firing squad over there. Let’s discuss the scénario. I had finished it all, including the epilogue, when Braunberger turned up at my house three days ago to pick it up. I’d sent a telegram to Paris and the people at Billancourt told him I was here. I went to Saint-Jean yesterday and we discussed the script, because he had already read it. He thinks it’s very good and says he has now made up his mind to make the film. He will start organizing everything when he gets back to Paris. I’m afraid though that even if all goes well, we won’t start filming for another couple of months. It’s vital to speak to the sponsors, etc., and reassure them that this is a commercial film. Braunberger had a reasonable suggestion, which was to add to the tension by finishing with the cemetery scene and inserting some extra material between the love scene and Lisbeth’s death. It won’t be easy but I’m going to try. Conclusion: I’m sure there will be two or three months’ work for you this winter. I’ve seen a few comrades down here and meet new ones every day. It’s a wonderful country, especially as there is so much still to be done. I’m still hoping to go to Madrid, but I don’t have any money. At least I get fed here. I’m thinking of borrowing some money and leaving within the week. If you need to write to me though, you can still use this address. The monarchist plot was quite serious, and if it failed it was only thanks to the workers. The Republicans thanked them, however, with the barrel-end of a gun the very day after the coup. They are now more sickening than ever, and they all seem to think they’re great Don Quijotes (Braunberger really liked Richard’s heroic gesture). I hope they’ll get what they deserve someday soon. I’m imagining the crowd jostling Largo Caballero in the middle of a riot as I, forcefully opening up a path, save him from the people’s rage. He then thanks me with great emotion and I, with a heinous smile, say: ‘I trust you are not confusing me with Don Quijote?’ And pull his teeth out two at a time. I’ve no news of anyone, except what you sent in your letter. There are lots of pretty girls around here, but I am still fasting. I don’t have anyone to introduce me and they are all decent women. Nothing to be done. I’ve read Babahouo. It’s got some good bits and some very funny moments. But nothing really new and impossible to make after what happened with An Andalusian Dog and The Golden Age. The theoretical side is even funnier. I saw Man Ray at Saint-Jean and he told me that Dalí has high hopes that some director will decide to film it. I’m thinking of coming back at the beginning of next month. I’ll let you know. Regards from, Buñuel PS Let me know if you want to come to San Sebastian. Campos remembers you fondly even though he can’t stand the French because of the Napoleonic Wars. And send Cerquant my anti-Trotskyist regards.

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

[apeshit]

just had a super lucid dream but i was scared the whole time so it wasnt super fun

[berry-loves-yandere]

Hi sweetheart! May I please request a Yandere bruce Yamada x reader oneshot?!? Bruce is head over heels for his darling but they dint feel the same way? Ty so much love <3.

This is abuse of my love for nicknames and I like unfortunately 😞❤️.

I will write this request.

𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈~

Yandere Bruce Yamada x uninterested!darling:

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, vomit mentions, unhealthy mindset, theft (?), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

It was no secret to his friends.

Bruce Yamada was head over heels for (Y/N) (L/N).

He'd do his absolute best and push himself during baseball games when (Y/N) was ever there.

He'd constantly do dumb things to get their attention.

And Bruce would send them gifts of things they've been wanting.

Eventually the two became friends due to (Y/N) thinking he just wanted to be friends, then Bruce's obsession crush was becoming more apparent.

He made more advances on (Y/N).

Wrapping an arm around their waist or shoulders, giving them long hugs, giving them all sorts of gifts.

(Y/N) awkwardly rejected all of this, which Bruce's other friends encouraged since his obsession was beginning to rage out of control.

He began taking pictures of (Y/N) when they didn't notice, bribing (Y/N)'s other friends to stay away from them and stealing some of their stuff.

He continued with these obsessive behaviours until (Y/N) told him to back off a bit because he was in their space way too much for (Y/N)'s comfort.

He felt hurt that (Y/N) suggested that but ultimately decided that he should confess soon.

If he confessed his feelings to (Y/N) then they could do cute couple things like going on picnic or movie dates and buying matching clothes.

He got very distracted in his classes thinking about this little fantasy of his.

Once he got out of class, he began looking for (Y/N) but couldn't find them anywhere.

He asked his friends but they denied seeing (Y/N) at all so that (Y/N) could have a bit of breathing room from Bruce.

Bruce was searching for (Y/N) and when he found them, they were talking and laughing with Vance Hopper inside the grab-n-go.

Vance didn't even seem bothered that someone else was playing pinball while he was talking with (Y/N).

The duo walked out of the grab-n-go.

(Y/N) quickly looked around before giving Vance a peck on his cheek.

Vance placed his hand to that cheek as they turned red.

He then smiled and gave (Y/N) a quick kiss on the lips before they both went their separate ways.

Bruce was fuming at the scene he just witnessed.

(Y/N) could be with Bruce, the charming golden boy who everyone loved!

(Y/N) could be praised for dating someone like him!

He chose them out of everyone and yet (Y/N) was busy kissing someone like Vance Hopper.

Bruce wanted to vomit as he thought about Vance, who was a disgusting thug.

The next time he saw (Y/N), he put up his 'good/golden boy' act and asked if they could meet him at the park.

Once (Y/N) got there, Bruce confessed his feelings to them, pretending that (Y/N) didn't kiss Vance.

"Bruce. I'm sorry." Once those three words tumbled out of (Y/N)'s mouth, all Bruce could hear was fuzz like when the radio was broken.

(Y/N) was speaking but he couldn't hear anything until (Y/N) said Vance's name.

"That's why. Isn't it? You like Vance! Even though he's a an idiot who beats up everyone! I swear that you're being manipulated by him! He doesn't even love you! Not the way I do!" Bruce said with clear desperation.

(Y/N) was stunned but Bruce kept speaking.

"I bet he doesn't buy you gifts! Or send you love letters! Or take pictures of you! Or have some of your stuff! and he definitely hasn't been planning out your wedding or future like I have! He'll probably hurt you! But not me! I'll keep you safe and happy until the day you die!" Bruce rambled.

(Y/N) noticed that he wasn't paying attention to them as he rambled, so they made a run for it, all the way to Vance's house, where they knew they'd be safe.

They informed Vance of the situation and Vance immediately believed them due to him noticing Bruce being very creepy around (Y/N).

(Y/N) managed to consistently avoid Bruce with the help of Vance and Bruce's friends who were worried about Bruce's sanity and (Y/N)'s wellbeing.

Once (Y/N) could, they got out of town to the farthest and best university they could go to.

They still had a relationship with Vance and eventually the two became a happy married couple but (Y/N) was always wary and hoping Bruce would never show up in their life again.

But they could always feel like someone was watching them.

The end

(No part two)