#i want them to tell me that they understand why I love living and I want them to love it too

[dollypopup]

I've been seeing so many bad faith takes from people who just. . .don't understand these characters or their love story, so here I am, taking them 1 by 1 lol

Let's start with potentially the lowest bar for Penelope

"I was rooting for Debling for Penelope!" aka: I didn't want Colin and Penelope to have their love story

Most of the justifications of this perspective come from the idea that an absent husband who leaves you lots of money and space for your hobbies is an ideal prospect. And you know what? You're right! For MOST women of the ton, this is an incredibly appealing proposition! That's why Cressida finds it so enticing. She wants what he can offer, a life away from her family (this is something she and Penelope have in common), a comfortable life in which she is alright with a lack of affection. I would argue most women on the marriage market during this time would agree. Marriage is a business transaction more than a fairy tale for them, for most women of this time, of the ton.

But Penelope is not most women of the ton. This perspective comes from a fundamental misunderstanding of her character. Her seeing marriage as a business transaction is her giving up on her dreams of being loved. People just assume that Penelope's greatest desire in life is to write Lady Whistledown, when this is absolutely not true. I even saw someone say that 'Penelope found her purpose'. But we know this is false

Because she says it herself. In Season 2, right after Colin talks to Marina and she calls him a boy caught up in his fantasies, the conversation is contrasted with Penelope, who tells him it's important to have dreams and fantasies, to be fanciful. And this *connects them*. It is the first truly open conversation we see between the two of them, and when he asks if she's found her purpose, she explicitly informs us what it is: Something that encourages her to be brave, and witty. Something that takes her far away from the watchful eyes of her Mama. Something that fulfills her.

Lady Whistledown is not any of those things. Lady Whistledown, sure, encourages her to be witty, but also encourages her to be cruel, to make painful decisions. Lady Whistledown does not encourage her to be brave, in fact, it only exists through her hiding and secrecy. And it keeps her beneath her Mama's thumb, as she is literally tied to the ton and it's going ons by writing it. No, Lady Whistledown is not her purpose. Writing is her passion, and I do argue that writing is ONE part of her purpose, absolutely!

But. . .what else?

Well. . . .love. Love and connection. *Love* is what inspires Penelope to be brave, Love and comfort with Colin encourages her wittiness, and Love is what will provide her an avenue for leaving her mum. Love is Penelope's greatest dream and desire. And I am NOT just talking romantic love here, but love of all sorts. Philautia (self love), Pragma (love of duty), Ludus (playful love), Agape (universal love), Storge (familial love), Philia (friendship), and, of course, Eros (romantic and sexual). Love with Eloise, Love in her family, Love and Respect in her community, and Love that is romantic and sexual in nature. Love with Colin.

But what Debling offers her is only one of those. He can only offer her a love of duty, respect in her community with a title, a pragmatic marriage with no passion, one in which she is expected to wait for him with fidelity as he lives his own passions, and she occupies herself with her own interests (so long as, very importantly, those interests do not make a fool of him, since he did, after all, dump her when he assumed she'd cheat on him when he was away) (cue me: 'is this your king????'-ing @ you all). I am flabbergasted that people would think Penelope would find happiness being alone and writing Whistledown as a married woman. . .when she did not find happiness being alone and writing Whistledown as a single woman. All that would change is her title, and that's not enough. She deserves better. She deserves more. She wants more.

When she asks him 'Could you ever love me?' he responds with several long excuses that amount to: No. No, he could never love her. He is too tied to his work, he does not know her. He has been talking to her for a week and had maybe what? 5 conversations with her about it? 1 of which was comparing her to a dead deer mounted on a wall (and I'll try not to read too much into the metaphor of Women shedding their names, a death of their old selves in their society, to become a literal trophy holed up in a rich man's house) and another was in which she insisted she. . .loved grass? Come on, people. Have a higher bar for this character you claim to like so much.

Another conversation they share is very telling, in which he asks about her hobbies. She informs she enjoys reading, and he finds it quaint, charming that she enjoys romances. But he does not find that in any way comparable to his own work. Debling respects Penelope as most men in his society respect women: as a pretty bauble with which to decorate his life. Not an equal. He is glad she has a quiet interest that will keep her where he feels she belongs: in his home, tending to his fortune and assets. He explicitly states he doesn't want a partner who shares his passions, who enjoys the outdoors, but simply an honest woman who will tend to his lair estate.

What Debling offers her is a life of pragmatism and expectancy, and in many ways, loneliness. Penelope would surely cultivate friendships in this time, but in accepting his offer, she even says she has 'come to terms' with what he can provide for her. Not that she is happy, not that it is what she *wants*, but that she has come to terms with it. That she will be content. She will fill her days with love stories she will never live, and write about the day to day of a ton that does not accept her. Maybe, just maybe, she can even have a family, and she, like her mother, like Marina, like other tragic women in her society, will find happiness in her children, and not in her own life.

But why should she? Penelope? Penelope wants love. Penelope wants acceptance and tenderness and passion, and that's why I am confident in saying that Penelope has not, in fact, given up on Colin. Not her love for him, at least. Her love for him has not faded, remains evergreen: we see it when she reads his journal, when she stands in the sun after their reconciliation and feels at peace for the first time in the season, when she laughs at his jokes, when she asks him to kiss her. She has given up on one thing only: her expectation of him fulfilling that love. And that's what makes it so heartbreaking that they're both pining for each other, thinking the other does not feel the same. Because Penelope knows (and she is RIGHT) that her and Colin have something special.

This is heart vs. head, and honestly, not even Penelope's head wants Debling.

The people who say they were hoping he and Penelope would end up together, y'all are Portia. Your expectations for Penelope are that she should be happy with money and a title and an absent partner. And then, the quiet part is 'She shouldn't be holding out for love'. She shouldn't be holding out for dreams.

But. . .why not? Colin is in every single way an amazing person for her. And he's proof that she should have held out, that waiting was worth it. That it had always been worth it.

Because it is *Colin* who is the gateway to all those forms of love.

Pragmatically, Colin has money a-plenty. He's in good standing in his society, he's rich, he's attractive, and he comes from a wonderful family. Furthermore, even from season ONE Daphne said that Colin can make an interaction interesting. He makes Penelope laugh, he's a good dancer, he's adventurous and loves to travel. And most importantly, he'd love to travel WITH her. Whilst Debling is attempting to narrow her world, Colin, in contrast, wants to open it to her.

Since her and Colin met as children, much of the start of their love story for him was first universal, and then familial in nature. When first her bonnet flew into his face and he fell, he had no reason to be kind about it, but he was. He has a kind nature. But then as they became acquainted, and she had a connection to Eloise, it morphed from his universal love and good will towards strangers, to that of a family friend. The comment that he sees her as one of his sisters was harsh, but it's also not BAD that this is a kernel of their love story. It bred familiarity with them, and lead into a genuine friendship. And my god, I could talk about their friendship for days.

Colin has been an amazing friend to Penelope. He checks in on her, he writers her letters, he asks how she's doing, he offers her his hand to lift her up, he refuses to let her speak badly of herself, he's protective of her, he finds her funny, he seeks her out because he values her perspective. Colin adores Penelope, and the last two seasons have proven it in so many ways. Even in his pursuit to help her find a husband, this is a selflessness he offers because he cares for her. His goal is not to curry favor with her, his goal is only to uplift her. He only wants to see her happy. He holds her in the highest esteem and sees her in such a beautiful light. And that leads into her self love, because what Colin said to Penelope in Season 2 Surely if Penelope can see me this way, surely I can as well-- that rings true for Penelope, as well. Colin loves her so dearly and sees her with such grace, that she is then inspired to bring that inwardly.

Debling is the death of her dreams, and Colin is her dream in fruition.

But it is also risky, and it is also, in some ways, foolish. He's not a sure choice for her, but he's the BEST choice. He represents passion and tenderness, he is the love story of all her books and fantasies. Because what Marina said to Colin, that he is caught up in his fantasies: Penelope is, too. That's what makes them such a good match. And so with him, she blooms. With him, she feels brave, and is witty, and will come out from her Mama's thumb and her expectations. And what's left after Pragma and Agape and Ludus and Storge and Philia?

Well. . .. It's Psyche and Eros, isn't it?

So, at the end of it, at the 11th hour, when Colin comes to her and he is honest, and he is vulnerable, and he doesn't know she feels this love for him and has for so long, and he spills open for her, Penelope knows she doesn't have to simply be content.

She knows she can be happy. Fuck your low expectations, she *can* and *should* have a love story.

And the one she lives with Colin is such damn good one.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 8

part 1, prev part

The hallway is empty when Dustin leaves the room. Steve and Lucas nowhere to be seen, Mrs. Mayfield gone somewhere else. Leaving Dustin alone to wander.

He doesn’t quite know what he wants. Where he’s going. Just following the path he would normally travel each day. Bouncing between rooms, looking for something to do.  Trying to find someone who would talk to him. Give him something to take his mind off the train tracks it’s bound to.

He grips the book in his hand, feeling the familiarity of wore out pages. Each one loved as he read and reread them over and over again. That’s what he does when he needs comfort. Goes back to the same story over and over again, to a world where he knows every outcome. Where there are no more mysteries. Dustin knows the answer to every question, every possibility.

It’s why he chose it to read to Eddie. It was a book the both of them loved, brought them joy in the darkness of life. He wanted Eddie to feel safe while his body was asleep. Knowing that some coma patients can hear what’s going around them. Even if it doesn’t register, it brings comfort on a subconscious level that there are people here supporting him.

At least that’s what Dustin hoped would happen, what he was striving to do. But he can’t do that today. There’s someone outside telling him that he can’t be in Eddie’s room right now. That something’s going on inside.

He goes right to thinking of the worst. That they are preparing him for some surgery that will probably delay the day he wakes up. Take more time from Dustin. Or maybe Eddie is dead behind those walls. Body finally succumbing to his wounds. His brain activity finally faded away. Leaving Dustin with the misplaced hope that it would all be ok.

He continues to wander into the waiting area. Seeing a familiar face getting a cup of shitty hospital coffee. Dustin must look confused, as Wayne’s face immediately looks concerned when he sees him.

“You alright kid,” he asks, stirring his coffee.

Dustin blinks. “They wouldn’t let me go into Eddie’s room.”

“Yeah, they’re working on him right now. Taking out his breathing tube.”

Panic fills Dustin, the only reaction he’s capable of right now. “Is he ok. That’s a good thing right?”

Wayne sets a steady hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “Yes, that’s a good thing. Why don’t you go sit down, you seem like somethin’s upsetting you.”

Dustin lets Wayne lead him to an empty chair, taking the one beside him. Quiet, letting Dustin be the one to start talking about it. He doesn’t really know how to. Wayne’s been through enough already, he doesn’t need to go through his things too.

Now that he has things to go through.

This was so much easier when things worked out for him. When Will was found and ok. When all his friends made it out of the tunnels underground. When it wasn’t him who lost people, but he could be there to help the ones who did.

He's seen so many people go through the hospital. They always got better in the end, that was good. Why is it so hard during the wait for them to get better? Why does the hope leave him more and more each day? He was the happy one, the one with all the jokes. Helping everyone else out, making sure they smiled.

Who’s going to cheer them up now that the smile can’t seem to return to his face?

“Do you remember Max Mayfield? she lived across from you and Eddie in the trailer park.” Dustin says when the words finally form in his mouth.

Wayne nods. “I do. She a good friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” Dustin plays with the bent cover of his book. “Yeah, she is, one of my best friends. We’ve known her ever since she moved to town back in middle school. She's in a room down the hall from Eddie.”

Wayne looks at Dustin like he understands where this is going. Maybe he does. Or maybe he’s just used to the hospital life after all this time. “Figured, saw her mom here a few times. She doin’ ok?”

Ok isn’t the right word, but Dustin can’t speak for how she feels. He can only speak for himself. And he is definitely not ok. “She’s blind.”

The words feel more crushing now that they’re said out loud.

A sob escapes from Dustin’s chest. The crushing feeling he’s had for weeks finally breaking free. Everything coming out at once in this hospital waiting room. His face falls into his hands, palms pressing into his eyes. Trying to keep the tears inside.

A hand pats his back, comforting him while he breaks. Helping him through this pain. Someone he barely knows but feels so safe around. Silently telling him that everything will be ok. That he will be ok.

Someone else comes and crouches in front of Dustin, placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, what happened?”

Dustin blinks the tears away enough to see Steve looking at him. “What do you think?”

He nods. “Why don’t I take you home, it’s already been a lot today.”

“What, no, I didn’t get to visit Eddie yet today. I have to read him the next chapter.” Dustin pulls himself to sit straighter, making himself look more put together. Tears still running down his cheeks.

“I think Eddie would understand if you missed a day. He would want you to take care of yourself.”

“He’s right,” Wayne agrees. Gently glaring at Steve, but still agreeing. “He wouldn’t want you to strain yourself for his sake.”

Why does everyone keep making decision for Dustin’s benefit? Do they even know what they’re talking about?

Still, Dustin lets Steve bring him home. His mind still stuck in that waiting room with the world falling down around him. Looking through the window doing nothing but add to his feeling. The peaceful outside now rampant with destruction.

The town was broken into pieces. People moved around between the shelters and the hospitals. Some even brought outside of the town to different hospitals in the area. It finally hits Dustin how much of this actually concerns him. How much it always concerned him.

How that kid he used to be kept smiling, he doesn’t quite know anymore. How he was still able to smile a week ago, he doesn’t know. With all that’s happened, with all his friends are going through, he thought he needed to bring levity to it all. Bring the hope that things could get better.

Hope is a dangerous thing. It makes people believe in something that might not happen. Makes him believe that the scars will fade, and the injuries will heal. That his friends will be exactly the same as he knew them last week. A year ago. Two years ago. When they first met.

He’s not even the same as he was a week, a year, two years ago. Somehow, foolishly he thought that life could move on from this. That the upside down would become nothing but a pin in the greater picture of his life. That down the line, when he’s married and maybe has a kid or two of his own, he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

Now, it’s become more real than he’s ever thought of before. Now, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to sleep the same again. The nightmares won’t leave with age. His friends will never become less scarred. His mind won’t be as scarred. His childhood will never be just his childhood. A part of it will always be captured by these memories. Memories that he can hope to only repress.

Dustin will have the privilege to walk away after all of these years without as little of a scar. He has what, a sprained ankle, and that’s it. Max is blind, Will’s lungs are damaged from extended time in the upside down. Lucas, Erica, and Mike are completely traumatized by what they’ve seen. By what they’ve been through.

Dustin is traumatized by what he’s seen. By what he’s been through. He’s always said that his was so much better than everyone else’s. That he was the least effected, so it was ok to diminish it.

He’s now realizing how stupid it was to think like that.

Note: Back to the Wayne POV in the next part. All of Dustin's POV will also be uploaded to ao3

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[minecraft-axolotyl]

Gale demi essay when? 👀

WELL SINCE YOU ASKED XD (Seriously thank you <3)

I think Gale Dekarios is Demisexual and here is why:

First things first. The man is devoted. When he loves, he gives his entire heart and soul to his partner. He thrives on a deep connection, and we're all aware of the nerd rizz that drew us to him in the first place.

However, the man is also damn-near OBLIVIOUS when someone starts to flirt with him. It takes a literal mind-reading connection for him to understand that Tav MIGHT like him (because of course picturing kissing him with passion isn't enough to 100% confirm! /s)

"But Gale still has sex with the player" you might ask me. And you are would be correct, but being aspec/demi isn't just about not having sex with someone, it's a lack of attraction until a deep emotional bond is formed. And I do believe Gale forms that bond with Tav before sex happens in act 2.

Some may say that he's just holding back because of the orb, but with the way he seems genuinely surprised that Tav flirts with him at the Tiefling Party, I think he's just using the orb as an excuse to not move things too fast.

Even after the orb is cured, it takes some time (and some water-testing bold flirtations in the shadowlands) to confirm that they're both on the same page before he takes anything further.

When he finally does confess his true feelings to Tav, he doesn't just hit them with an "I love you." No no, that's too vague. He has to give them the full "I'm in love with you." just so they know he means it with his entire orb-filled chest.

He talks about how he wishes they had more time. How "if things were different" he would have taken the time to do things properly, because, as he also says, he cannot change who he is, or how he loves. (let me tell you, as an ace, that line hits HARD)

This is just a side note but if you tell him his kissing is 'out of practice', he says he wishes you two had more time to practice together, and the thoughts of Gale spending time devoted exclusively to kissing his partner, without the pressure or expectations of anything more... You see where I'm going with this (I hope)

Not to mention, even after feelings (and a feelings-cementing kiss) have been exchanged, and he knows Tav feels the same way, he still feels the need to deepen that bond even further before they take things all the way!

He takes them on a magical tour of his home T_T to show them where he came from through what little glimpses into his life he can share. He could just get down to the magical sex part, but he wants Tav to know him in every way.

Physically, emotionally, even spiritually! Gale Dekarios doesn't JUST have sex (unless that is what Tav prefers) he will fuse their souls together in the Weave until they are together as one. (Also, as an ace myself, I think the Weave Sex is fascinating in the fact that there's a way to bond with a partner without using physical bodies. I wish that were real tbh, it sounds very cool!!!)

He knows they don't have the time to act out whatever romantic timeline he had in his head when he first caught feelings (At the very least he hoped to take them on an actual DATE first) but he wants to make damn sure he expresses his love for Tav in the only way he can, with what little time they have left.

Anyway Demi Gale thoughts live in my head rent free, thank you for letting me rant about this on main.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I saw your hc post with Nathan with a feminine s/o and the part where he liked listening to her talk and that got me thinking about this. He would love it if his s/o played piano. Like, he puts a piano in places like the living room and his office just so when he's there he can listen to them play. Sh maybe you could make a small hc post based on that idea

Ahh, I love this! Sorry it took me so long to post!

Nathan Bateman GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: Soft!Nathan , swearing, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 455

Oh my gosh, literally pianos everywhere. You have to tell him to calm the fuck down. 

“Do you want a new piano?” “No, you bought me five already.” “Do you need one in a different colour?” “No.” “What about another grand piano for the-” “Nathan.” 

Doesn’t pester you to play for him, but is very happy whenever you play. Even if you’re trying out a new piece and feel like you're constantly messing up, he’s just 100% heart eyes at all times.

Will, however, act like he isn’t if you call him on it. 

If you’re playing and it isn’t within his earshot you’re gonna get a series of, ‘why aren’t you playing near me so I can listen?’ type messages.

You end up just practising near him so he doesn’t complain. 

You call him a baby (affectionate) about it. 

He says he isn’t and sulks for 3 hours. 

When you find him you show him a little song you’ve written for him. 

He gets a little over emotional that you made something for him. And tries to hide it. (He does a bad job.)

Asks you to teach him how to play.

He understands the theory really well, but gets annoyed when he can’t play perfectly after 30 seconds. 

“You’re really good Nathan!”

“I’m shit.”

“You can’t expect to play it perfectly the first time.”

“Why?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you have to learn the muscle memory, you couldn’t box amazingly the first time you tried could you?” 

“I could.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You give him little lessons every day, which he adores. He progresses well, he’s obviously trying really hard, but after a couple of weeks, you realise he’s doing it more to spend time with you and to share in something you enjoy than to become a master at it. (Which surprises you.) 

He likes calling you ‘bossy’ when you tell him to practise or play something. This morphs a little and sticks into a nickname, ‘boss’. 

Whenever he’s on a conference call and someone asks him to do something he doesn’t want to, instead of saying a flat ‘no.’ he just starts shrugging and saying ‘you better ask the boss.’ 

He does not explain this to anyone, causing a lot of confusion (which he loves). 

No one has any idea that you’re ‘the boss’ until a rare in-person event when Nathan isn’t being his hermit self and he refers to you by the nickname in front of a couple of staff. 

What you expect to be the end of the joke turns into people asking and emailing you for permission and sign offs. (And to get Nathan to do things.) 

Nathan finds this all hilarious and will not correct the situation.

Thank you for reading!

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[shippyo]

Question for life: What’s your relationship with Morpho?

[this ask will have my own lore related to Morpho hope ya all enjoy💖]

also,i think [this] soundtrack might fit🩷

Morpho...Yes, she is very special to me, she is my daughter, the first of all, I reborn her myself with my own hands,lemme tell you the story...

Before long,long ago in immemorial times, far from when it all began but close to the dawn of it, Morpho was another and a completely different being, a young girl from a world that feels lost even in my memory,that, somehow in a way that I have never known,fell to my dimension, wounded, confused, with living tears.

I remember that being when asked who I was and after I explained myself she told me

"Why have you been so cruel to me?"

That paralyzed me,i..i been cruel,it was the first i realized such thing that my whole existence is contradiction,i bring wonders yet suffering to all living beings,even if im not able to control what happens.

That poor being cried for every terrible misfortune that occurred in her life, abuse, wars, the fall of her world, she was still alive, of course, but she begged me not to return, not even to go to the afterlife and rest in peace, no, the pain that her tears brought was so breaking that she wanted to disappear from existence itself.

Obviously it's not something I wasn't going to do, I COULDN'T even if I can do it, it was unfair, it wasn't her fault that her life went so miserable to such disgrace thought in her mind came into it with no return to change it,she was lost, in exchange, I asked her permission to not go to such path, but rather be something new and somehow,she accepted, thinking that would end all.

In all honesty, at that moment I was not clear about the extent of my power, I knew that I had it and that I could do something outside of normal understanding for others but that pulse in me screamed for act different and so, I grabbed her face and my hands shone with intense light.

Without realizing it, the body disappeared when my palms closed, I felt fear for the first time thinking i destroyed her being, but I suddenly felt the flutter of a butterfly.

When I opened my hand, that butterfly that you all know so much came out and it didn't take long to complete its own metamorphosis as a new being.

The being before Morpho had disappeared, my power had a price to pay, in a way.

I don't know the reason but all those who are reborn from my hands forget in a certain way their old being, not as if it had never existed, they are not unconscious of what they experienced, but their souls feel pure,different and determined in wanting to defend life in being a new them, I feel them as an extension of me and they are condemned to a strange line where they cannot die for being so tied to me and yet even if she knew this she...

Looked at me happy, with a passion for living on her face that was not there before and thanked me for what I had done, although she felt sadness for her former self and her past,she now understood how beautiful it was to be there.

From there she named herself, "Morpho" and she felt indebted to me, although I did not want to,she insisted that to fight for me, defend, be the judge of beings of all those infinite dimensions, save others like who she was before, I do not like to feel that Im using her because I accepted her like some short of puppet, but even so, she has always seemed happy since then to serve me as a knight of life.

From then on, I was her mother and hundreds, billions like Morpho today are part of this family and I love them all equally.

Although...sometimes I wonder if I could use my power to reverse that strange "immortality" that ties them to me, I wish they could continue happy as they are now, but return to the mortality of life so that they finish their true cycle and not be attached to such tasks..I know I can and maybe one day I will have the courage to do it for the first time.

@kirbyoctournament

learn more of life lore [here!]

[dekariosclan]

With you, I forget my goddess

So, I have completed Bg3 twice now, but on both runs I’ve romanced Gale (truly shocking, I know) and therefore I had never seen Gale’s non-romance discussion with Tav about the Annals of Karsus.

I recently got to see it, and what surprised me the most is how extremely angry and bitter Gale is about Mystra’s treatment of him. Rightfully and understandably so, but it’s something we do not see or experience in the romance version.

This got me thinking about the difference in Gale’s reactions in the friendship vs romance scenes, why they are different, and also how this relates to the complaints I’ve read about Gale ‘still not being over Mystra even when romancing Tav’.

(Note that I’m mainly going to focus on the portions of each dialogue that relate to Mystra in particular, and I’m not referencing the ‘alternate’ boat scene w/Gale—where he tells you beforehand that he will return the crown to her—since he doesn’t mention Mystra at all there.)

Screencaps below are from @munmomuu’s wonderful video on YouTube. The screencaps take place after Gale has read the Karsus book. If you are romancing him, before you reach this point, the conversation ends because he tells you he wants to discuss it later “in private,” during the boat scene.

But in a friendship run, he will explain what he’s read to you and then begin to make his case for using the crown:

Gale: Some gods may delude themselves into believing they care about their worshippers, but when it comes down to it - we’re all expendable. Children to be appeased, not respected.

Gale: I worshipped Mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power I was ready to wield.

Gale: Even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. She’s done nothing to help us.

There then comes a dialogue branch where Tav can ask this:

And Gale replies, with understandable bitterness:

Gale: She sent me to die.

Look at how angry he is during this whole exchange, and how he focuses all that anger on the past, and what Mystra has done to him (or not done, as he points out she’s offered them no help at all.)

— — —

Now let’s compare this to his Mystra dialogue in the boat scene:

Gale: I’ve already defied Mystra. Had I followed her command, there’d be nothing left of me but a smoking crater.

Gale: The tadpoles, the orb - these threats to our existence - the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind Ao. So let us act ourselves.

Gale: I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for.

Notice how there’s no fiery anger at Mystra here, just Gale’s resigned belief that the Gods have failed them.

So what’s the key component that makes Gale react so differently in each scenario?

It is, of course, Tav.

More specifically, it’s Tav’s love for him, which has clearly helped his heart heal from the trauma that he’s experienced. Yes, Tav’s friendship is extremely important as well, and yes, Gale is still insecure even with Tav’s love (‘you would really prefer me as I am?’) but the extreme bitterness, the anger, all of that is gone. Here, Gale is no longer hung up on Mystra and the past; he’s looking to the future. Because now that he has Tav, what he desires most is to take his life and his fate back from the Gods and into his own hands—with Tav at his side.

The irony is that some people complain about Gale ‘not being over Mystra’ while he’s actively romancing Tav, but just look at the difference in the dialogue! Look at how focused he is on Mystra when he is not romancing Tav, and then how she becomes a mere afterthought once Tav has claimed his heart.

I really enjoyed seeing this level of detail. I think it perfectly illustrates Gale’s frame of mind in each scenario, as well as showing the positive impact Tav’s love has on Gale.

And last but not least—it confirms that Gale was not exaggerating when he says this:

Gale: With you, I forget my goddess. I love you.

— — —

[nalyra-dreaming]

Helloo , I am actually wondering about how close they are adapting the first book into the series because now we all know that the trial scene is going to be a hard one for the Lestat and Louis’s worshippers like myself because somehow I want to see a possible “happy” ending for Lestat and Louis at the trial. Also I couldn’t wrap my head around the possible foreshadowing of the ultimate betrayal of Louis over Claudia, because the whole -you and me- ending of the first episode in season 2 was a lot. But how? Louis will be there on the trial stage, maybe they push Louis with the decision of choosing one over another as a punishment because they are the two most important figures for him. By giving Claudia a life and taking Lestat’s life he broke two rules and this choice is the biggest punishment for him, and also we see a little now that he is not feeling so good for killing Lestat so maybe Lestat’s hold over Louis leads to the ultimate betrayal. I just don’t know how. Daniel interviewing Armand and Louis also is not sitting right with me, where is Lestat to tell his side and also where is he in that time zone? A huge gap to fill for me. I have to see them together in real time if there is going to be a rockstar Les happily living with Louis. I don’t know, I need to see them being together forever. Sorry if there is a confusion with my words, I feel confused. I want to understand why there is no trace of Lestat’s while Louis is there with that snake Armand in Dubai.

Hey!

Well... first off - Armand does love Louis. Just as a note. (And I wouldn't call him snake either, he does what he thinks is best. Which... does not always align with what others think is best.)

Lestat is likely asleep or in a coma in modern Dubai. There are phases where he is "out of commission" in the books, so to speak, and I think this is one of them, because otherwise he would be there, if he knew about Louis' state of mind. Lestat will have time to tell his POV in s3, cast and crew have been very clear about that by now.

The trial... So, first off - s2 won't have a happy ending in Paris. It will be harrowing and brutal instead. There might be a (more) happy ending in Dubai, but I think we're going to get a cliffhanger of epic proportions instead. 😬

The show maybe foreshadowed the show making Louis... choose, maybe even as part of the punishment. Which will be... brutal. We'll see. But I actually think they'll stay close to the book there, and that Louis will be entombed, and Armand will free him and get him out through the catacombs (we saw in the trailers).

Lestat does not have a "hold over" Louis in the sense of the word (or as it may be in other vampire media). They're not ... linked to each other outside the sheer fact that they are maker and fledgling - and that they love each other, and fatally so. (The silver cord is a bit of a different thing and does not influence them like that.)

If that being in love will lead to (a) betrayal on the stage? We'll see. It might.

But, nonny... I personally do not think we will get modern day rockstar Lestat - I think that happened in the 80s. And even in the books Louis does not end up living happily with Lestat right away. There's too much history between them, and they're both not ready on their respective character journeys. That takes time.

Still, I think the dance in s1 foreshadowed the ending which we'll hopefully get, and which is in the books.

As per your confusion why there is no Lestat - that is the (deliberate) mystery at this point. They're building up to the trial and then to what will happen in Dubai.

Just... wait a bit. He isn't much in the second half of (book) IWTV after all, and they already give us much more content than is in the book. This will probably the longest you will have to go without Lestat in the show.^^

The happy ending will come, no worries, nonny.

But not in Paris.

[lesbianwriter]

“I can’t love you.” Hero said.

Her voice was gentle…tender, even…but that did nothing to soften the blow.

“Why not?” Villain shook her head, clutching the bed sheets. “You tell me now? Were you messing with my head last night, and is that why you choose to wait until now?” Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers dug harder into the sheets, her knuckles turning white.

“I…I have an image to protect—last night was a slip-up, Villain, surely you of all people know what it’s like to make a mistake. I wasn’t trying to hurt you; however, I have responsibilities and have to keep a clean image.”

Typical heroes.

She turned her head, facing the floor as her cheeks heated up and her throat burned with every horrible word she wanted to fling at her nemesis. She had been used. Used.

“You’re the worst.” Was all she could force out.

The shame threatened to swallow her alive. If only the sheets could suck her in so that she’d never have to see that perfect, pearly smile again.

Hero raised a brow, her muscular arms crossed. “Says the woman who tried to topple the city a few nights ago. Look,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, is that what you want to hear? I do like you, but I can’t…love you.”

“Because I’m a villain, or because I’m a woman?” Villain retorted indignantly.

The venom was back in her voice.

As Hero deserved.

Her gaze flicked to the window and she considered yanking the curtains open, showing the whole street below the penthouse the scene, the spectacle, the pathetic little stage where Villain was the puppet and Hero was the one playing with the strings.

“Don’t be immature.” Hero’s spine stiffened.

“I’m immature? You played me for a fool! And then you expect me to, what, be calm about it?!” Villain stormed up to her feet and gathered her clothes from the floor.

There was no trusting heroes.

All of them, every last one, was a liar. Her biggest mistake was thinking that Hero would be any different, that someone like Hero born with a silver spoon in her mouth would understand her…or even love her. Every secret, stolen moment was a lie. And last night was the worst one of all.

“I didn’t plan for last night to escalate the way it did, Villain. Sweetheart, look—“

“Don’t you dare call me ‘sweetheart’.” Villain snarled, shoving her jacket on over her body and zipping it all the way up. “You don’t love me, you won’t ever love me, I think I got the memo.”

Hero sighed, running a hand through her hair as she shook her head. “I made a poor choice, I messed up, I didn’t mean to string you along like that. Just…I wanted to be with you even once. One time. But we can’t continue this—the agency wouldn’t like this.”

“Fine.” Villain muttered bitterly.

With that, she walked out of the bedroom with a resounding slam of the door. Her hands shook. Everything—everything—infuriated her to look at. The art on the wall, the luxury furniture…everything that symbolized the stark contrast between the lives they lived. Hero’s penthouse, the home of a hero that the public adored and idolized for her morals, strength and looks. Beautiful and shiny, rippling with muscles. Born to rich parents with the money to give her an elite education in everything from strategy to sparring.

And Villain was anything but that. She was a speck of dirt next to Hero’s shining, glamorous lifestyle. Yet she’d been stupid enough to think that Hero could love someone like her.

Fuming, Villain stormed out, knocking over an expensive looking vase on her way out.

Hero would pay one way or another.

I feel like I say this every time I post but so sorry for the inactivity :(, I’ve been struggling with writers block AND studying—a true deadly combo.

Anywho, this piece is very much inspired by “good luck, babe!” by Chappell Roan if it isn’t super obvious lol.

And even though I’ve been inactive for awhile, I value and appreciate you guys sm and thank you so much for you support and for your patience!

[shatcey]

Alfons' secrets

I've just finished reading all three epilogues of Alfons' route… And I have to say, I fell terribly hard for that guy. To say I'm surprised would be a huge understatement.

I will give a detailed explanation later, but now I want to say a couple of things that shocked me the most.

This guy is very jealous. He doesn't say it, he doesn't show it, but his actions leave no doubt about this fact. I'm surprised myself, considering how he lives, but… It just proves how different he feels about Kate. She's so important to him that he wouldn't even let other people touch her. Well… He's overprotective too, but this is a completely different story.

Several facts that I learned from the epilogues:

Alfons feeds stray cats and they recognize him. So it's not as occasionally as he says.

He has mixed feelings of love/hatred for cats due to his past experience (not surprising).

When he arrived at Elbert's mansion, he didn't know the basic things. But he learned to write, read, calculate and cook very quickly. No wonder his handwriting is bad, no one taught him.

He learned to dance faster than Elbert.

He has a weakness. I won't tell you what it is to not to spoil your fun.

And the last thing… This is just my impression, and I have no solid proof, but… He has a vibe of a family type. He's kind, caring, overprotective and actually very loyal (I laugh at the latter myself). He likes to see his family get together, he likes to take care of them and pamper them. In fact, he reminds me a lot of Victor. He probably doesn't understand it himself. He even doesn't see his actions of absolute selfless kindness as it is.

But maybe I'm just imagining things, maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that there's a very simple reason why I love him so much… And it's not as complicated as I think it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 Start page 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[my-mt-heart]

The scenes where Daryl and Carol "talk on the bench" and he "leaves on his motorcycle" include Daryl admiring Carol's beauty, telling her he wishes she was coming with him, and that he loves her. Those are the beats I want TBOC to explore in order to drive Caryl's shared emotional arc forward. I want them to talk about why they separated and come to the understanding that they don't want to be separated ever again because not only do they love each other, they're each other's happy ending.

It's really ironic that the new excuse for the change in showrunners is that it was supposed to enable more authentic storytelling for a French audience because 1) Zabel isn't French. He's a generic American white male showrunner and 2) he managed to use almost every French cliche there is. I don't know what Norman and co. think they're accomplishing by alluding to Angela Kang getting fired again, but maybe they should settle on something that doesn't sound racist and misogynistic, or better yet, stop bringing it up altogether. Norman can't sell me on the idea that this is supposed to be his and Melissa's show if two seconds later, he's talking about what he wanted for a show he's still calling "Daryl Dixon."

Describing TBOC finale as "the best in history" is a big statement. Regardless of what he actually means, there has to be major development in Daryl's and Carol's arcs for it to hold true. That includes explicit romantic canon. So, make it live up to the hype, AMC.

[youunravelme]

nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1

author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!

after

despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.

but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.

the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.

“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.

“how was work?” your mom asked.

you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.

when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.

but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.

but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.

it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.

“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”

both of your parents hummed.

“did you have dinner already?” you asked.

“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.

your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”

you wanted to throw up.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.

“oh,” was all you could say.

“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”

you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him. 

“i’ll figure something out,” you said.

your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.

before

you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.

it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood. 

but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.

you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.

not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.

a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.

“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.

you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”

the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”

“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.

“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.

“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly. 

“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.

you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.

“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.

you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.

the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”

matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.

matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.

the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”

you nodded.

mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.

matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.

you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.

if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.

after

you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.

“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”

“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.

“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”

your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.

you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”

but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.

you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.

and that’s what life had felt like lately:

unfortunate.

unfortunate shit just happening to you.

it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.

you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.

emma:

hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!

you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.

years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.

but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.

you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.

now it just filled you with dread.

no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.

but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.

you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.

you:

i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!

and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.

before

the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.

missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.

it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.

school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.

now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.

and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.

the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.

especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children. 

all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.

which is how you ended up playing the game of life.

even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.

you found yourself smiling and laughing along.

you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.

“are you having fun?” he asked.

your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”

“really?” he smiled.

you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”

matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”

you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.

but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.

you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”

matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”

to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?

evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”

he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”

you locked your fingers together. “promise.”

after

it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.

which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had. 

before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.

“hey! what’s up?”

you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”

emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”

you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”

“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”

and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.

“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”

“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”

“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”

“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.

“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”

you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”

“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”

you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.

there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”

before

matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.

both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.

morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.

hence the party in the basement.

morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.

“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”

no one said a word.

you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.

“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”

the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”

thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.

you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.

but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” simone replied.

morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.

the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.

“truth or dare?” she asked.

you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.

“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.

a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.

“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.

morgan blinked. “what?”

it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”

she guffawed. “but you have to!”

matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”

“but you lose if you don’t!”

he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”

your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.

“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.

a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.

“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.

matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”

you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”

matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”

“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”

you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”

he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.

“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.

oh god. did he like simone?

your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.

you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”

he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”

now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”

matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”

“matt, what are you talking about?”

he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”

“know what?”

matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?

“matt what—”

“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.

you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.

matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”

“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”

“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”

you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”

“would you let me?”

words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.

but it was perfect.

after

you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.

most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.

it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.

unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.

but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?

you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.

it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.

“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”

and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.

the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.

“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”

you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”

taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.

you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”

taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”

your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”

taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“taryn...”

“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”

you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.

“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”

you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.

“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”

you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”

the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.

you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.

emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.

the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.

it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.

emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.

you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.

you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.

emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.

but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.

“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.

if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.

if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.

if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.

but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.

brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.

if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.

but it was too late now.

matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.

you felt like an idiot.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.

your hands were shaking again.

you shoved them in your pockets again.

matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.

“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.

you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”

matt scoffed. “not happening.”

out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”

matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”

“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.

brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”

you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.

and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.

you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.

but it wasn’t like that this time around.

you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.

the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.

you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.

you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.

except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.

you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.

you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.

brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.

a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.

you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.

in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.

his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.

you just—

couldn't.

matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.

you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.

before

you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.

matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.

the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.

“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side. 

“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”

“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.

moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.

you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.

matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.

matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”

you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.

all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.

“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.

you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.

“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.

you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”

matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”

you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.

matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.

you blinked, still smiling. “what?”

“you're not gonna say you love me back?”

you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”

matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”

and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”

and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.

matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.

“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.

“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”

matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”

“i love you so much.”

after

the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.

you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.

last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th. 

the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.

“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.

“rough weekend,” you grumbled.

frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”

you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.

“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”

you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”

“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”

there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.

“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”

you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.

“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”

“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”

you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.

“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”

frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.

you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.

but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.

not two minutes later.

not thirty minutes later.

not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.

not even on the drive home.

frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.

it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.

and now it was no one.

now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.

you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?

you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.

“hey.”

it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.

“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.

“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”

“good.”

matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”

“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”

“if you—”

“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?

matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”

the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night. 

“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”

“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. “i just wanna talk.”

“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”

“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”

you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.

one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.

and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.

there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.

you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.

so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.

you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.

“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.

your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”

“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”

a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”

before

“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.

you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”

“do you have any back up schools?”

you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”

ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”

“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.

ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”

“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”

your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”

“i want to be with matthew.”

ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”

“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”

ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”

after

you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.

it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.

and now it was saturday.

you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively. 

if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.

you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.

it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.

despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.

the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.

“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”

“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.

she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.

“how’s work going?”

you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”

simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”

“but are you passionate about what you do?”

she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”

you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.

“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”

it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.

simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”

you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”

simone whispered your name.

“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”

simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”

you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”

simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”

you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”

your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”

“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”

“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”

your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.

so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”

simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”

you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop. 

the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.

maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.

before

the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.

you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.

the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.

but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.

but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.

it was fine.

just high school.

you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.

but it wasn’t like that.

because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.

matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.

so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.

you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.

“please hold your applause until the end.”

you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.

your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.

as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.

“outside!” brady pointed.

you nodded.

as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.

a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.

when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”

matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”

“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered. 

“me too, baby.”

unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.

but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—

everything was perfect.

you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf. 

and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.

but you had no idea how the future would turn out.

you thought matt was forever.

after

you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.

you could do that, right?

just casual sex?

the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—

you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.

your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.

the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her. 

her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.

his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.

he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.

but maybe it was for the best.

you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.

“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”

“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”

you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.

which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.

you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.

“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”

oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?

but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.

you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.

“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”

“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.

simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”

“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.

“mostly acrylic.”

andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”

you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”

“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.

you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.

“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”

your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”

and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.

“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”

you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”

andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.

the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.

he, quite literally, left you in the cold.

andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”

you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”

andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”

your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.

you refused to be pathetic any longer.

which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.

before

you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.

and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.

because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.

tonight was different.

safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.

you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.

until tonight.

you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.

“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.

matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“you okay?” you asked.

he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”

the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.

but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.

normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.

“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.

“nothing,” he grunted.

“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”

“there’s nothing to help.”

“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”

“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.

your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.

matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”

“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.

matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.

a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.

a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.

his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.

“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”

“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.

you kept walking.

“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”

you kept walking.

a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.

gently, he turned you around.

“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.

you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?

he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”

you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”

with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”

“matthew, you know that’s not true—”

“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”

a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.

“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.

“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”

your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“i love you, matty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”

after

“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.

your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.

you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”

“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.

you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”

your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”

your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”

“alan, this will be good for her!”

but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”

“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.

but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

so was matthew.

you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”

the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew. 

but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.

andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.

and you hated yourself for it.

the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.

andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.

“hey,” he greeted.

you gave him a small smile. “hi.”

“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”

you shook your head. “not too bad.” 

c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.

“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—

“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”

you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”

andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”

you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.

you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.

your phone buzzed.

simone: 

how’s it going?

you smiled despite yourself. 

you:

he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.

you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.

you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.

“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.

you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”

“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”

your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.

you wanted to throw up.

instead, you chugged the drink.

“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.

you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”

he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.

and another.

and another.

your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.

matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.

but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.

your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.

“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”

but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.

then the panic set in.

it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.

“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance. 

“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.

“matt hey—”

brady. you were right, brady was here.

god you loved brady.

“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”

with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.

oh. your date.

there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.

you were gonna throw up.

or pass out.

you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—

“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”

the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.

your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.

were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—

oh god.

oh god.

“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”

did you?

but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.

maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.

“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.

“he—he was gonna—”

matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.

matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.

your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.

what a year tonight has been.

your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.

“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”

your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.

rock bottom.

you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.

“you okay?” he asked.

“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”

matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.

“baby i—”

“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”

“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”

maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”

“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”

“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”

matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.

and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?

you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.

“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”

brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.

“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”

matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”

your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”

he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”

you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”

[psychdiarys]

I do not like how the narrative treats Ongsa in 23.5 ...

I hate how episode 11 paints Ongsa as immature for being afraid of coming out and worrying about what people will think, as if that's not a common fear among queer youth.

Sun is portrayed as "emotionally healthy" and mature because she prioritizes her love over others' opinions. But that's the problem: Sun prioritizes her love for Ongsa instead of actually putting Ongsa's feelings and fears first. Like ..

Sun listing out all the reasons she's upset with Ongsa ...

.... but it felt contradictory as those reasons were all connected to Ongsa's insecurities and mental struggles that Sun had previously been supportive of.

Like, personally, I believe Sun was entitled to be upset about the Earth thing, as being lied to can be deeply hurtful.

But, she understood Ongsa's reasons at the time and didn't get mad at her. She also supported Ongsa's decision to keep their relationship hidden, being aware of Ongsa's fears and self-esteem issues.

That's why it felt so wrong when she used those reasons against Ongsa during their fight. It completely undermined the understanding and support she had shown before.

Also ...

The girl who outed her girlfriend to her parents without knowing if she was okay with it, or if her parents would accept her, is now criticizing Ongsa for making decisions on her own without her input?

She's upset at Ongsa for making decisions without asking for her input. But what were these decisions, exactly?

Keeping their relationship a secret from her parents because she was afraid they'd be homophobic

Why does she need Sun's input for that, exactly? This is between Ongsa & her own parents. The decision to keep this a secret from her parents affects HER personally because she lives with them. Her parents potentially being homophobic could literally risk her safety & turn her whole life upside down. Sun, on the other hand, had no business outing her & AylinLuna to Ongsa's parents. It was not her decision to make!

Keeping their relationship a secret from everyone in school

Again, Ongsa was afraid, which is completely normal. There's nothing inherently wrong with being scared, especially for queer youth who often navigate the complexities of keeping their relationships and identities hidden.

Back then, I appreciated Sun's understanding of Ongsa's decisions, considering it was her first queer relationship, and fear is a natural part of that experience. Therefore, using that understanding to guilt-trip her now, simply because they had a disagreement, feels manipulative.

Asking Sun not to drop the exchange program scholarship for her

I mean, can you blame Ongsa? If my 16-year-old girlfriend (that I've been with for like a month, mind you) decided to sacrifice all her dreams for me, I'd probably tell her that she's stupid. Like it was childish of Sun to prioritize her 5-minute relationship over her lifelong career aspirations, and at such a young age.

I understand that Sun felt hurt because Ongsa didn't want to apply for the scholarship with her. And on top of that, Ongsa didn't even understand Sun's decision of giving up the scholarship to be with her.

But isn't it reasonable that Ongsa didn't want to force either of them to choose between uprooting her own life for Sun's dreams or having Sun give up her dreams to stay with Ongsa?

Ongsa's parents telling her that she should stop thinking about what others think ....

Like I'm happy they are NOT homophobic like she thought. I'm so glad they are supportive and I want them to be MY parents.

But again, I didn't like how they centred the conversation around Ongsa's inability to prioritize what's important to her & worrying about what people think too much.

"Be more considerate of yourself & the ones close to you," implies that Ongsa is selfish for not coming out. Like WHY is she being repeatedly told that she needs to stop being a people pleaser just because she was afraid of coming out as GAY?

I was also upset that Aylin and Alpha told Ongsa about her & Sun, once again taking away her autonomy to do it herself, in her own way, on her own terms.

How many times are we going to take away that right from her?

Also, despite Ongsa's friends & siblings being supportive of her & giving her a shoulder to cry on, it was disappointing that nobody explicitly took her side.

Nobody told her that it's okay to be afraid, that she's not wrong for the choices she made. NOBODY told her that Sun was in the wrong for outing her. Instead everyone was like, Aw, you've learnt your lesson now! Character development! Now, go get Sun back!

Sun's apology

I wasn't satisfied with Sun's apology at the end. While it's positive that she did apologize and acknowledged her mistake, it was disappointing that she only addressed their disagreement over the exchange program scholarship situation.

What about apologizing for outing Ongsa? For not understanding her reasons for staying in the closet?

Sun claims to love Ongsa for who she is, which seems to include her "loser personality", and the fact that she's a girl. But does she also love Ongsa for her anxiety, insecurities, and tendency to overthink?

Like she loves her despite her gender & popularity status, but she draws the line at neurodiversity, I guess.

—

I know that they're teenagers, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve accountability. I know that this is supposed to be realistic, but that doesn't mean I agree with the narrative. Either way, another miss from GMMTV, I guess!

[is-it-bussin-hannibal]

okay so,, I don't know if i have it in me to write a whole fic, but i needed to get this slightly dark Paul out of my head

Paul is married off to Feyd the second Feyd is of age (which avoids the attack on Arrakis yadayada as Feyd, alongside Paul, will inherent Arrakis, everybody wins). At first, obviously, the boys don't like each other very much, they're two teenagers, but they're also of noble birth, it's their duty, and Paul is bene gesserit, his whims have no place here. Feyd tends to ignore his husband most of the time, but he sleeps in the same bed, sometimes he'll stay in their rooms while Paul read or draws, somethings he really just stays there, quiet, sometimes he will engage in an activity of his own, they're practically parallel playing, sometimes he'll excise, and Paul will quietly join him. Paul knows he could seduce him, but there's just something about Feyd, how he avoids physical contact, how he'll move an inch away when approached, he's very mistrustful, and Paul respects that. It only infuriated him a "bit" when he found out Lady Fenring seduced his husband, and he knew why. Still, Feyd willingly spends time around him, and he doesn't do that to anyone else, and that means something.

Living in Geidi Prime proves to be a chore, it's harsh and cold and empty. Paul has observing as his form of distraction, right away he understands the power balance here, he understands why things happen the way they do, he sees the Baron for what he is, he also starts to understands Feyd the longer he stays with him. Paul never had anyone his age around, granted, but he also never had anyone match his wits, and he's delighted with how smart Feyd is. From what he learned with the bene gesserit, his husband was a animal, aggressive and not particularly intelligent, like his brother but stronger, he thought his marriage would be just taming a beast, like he was trained to do, dull and uncomfortable. But oh, what a delicious surprise!! Feyd managed to deceive the witches, made this mask of a monster, but of course, no one can get close enough to see through it. Paul does, like a bad dog, Feyd-Rautha bites when threatened. And soon Paul realizes, that everything here is a threat to Feyd, and has been since he can remember, the biggest threat? the Baron. He feels sorry for his husband, but he knows that would not please Feyd, and Feyd made the effort to be around him, because for some reason, he decided to stay with him for life and not just, kill him, and he's happy with that, so he does his best to show Feyd what a family is, because now they're family.

Paul sets for old fashioned childlike friend making instead of bene gesserit seduction. He talks to Feyd, even though Feyd does not respond, tell him things, sometimes random things, sometimes important things about himself, just to make conversation, to guide Feyd. The Na-Baron is very confused at first, but he listens, Paul urges him to speak too, he doesn't really knows what to say, but in time, he starts making comments about things here and there, like he's seen Paul do, which seems to please Paul. They create a routine. He annoys Feyd enough that the older has no option but let him do whatever he wants, and what he wants? to know Feyd, to be his friend. Feyd is not really familiar with the concept, he has his pets of course, but they're just one of the twisted mentat's failed experiments. The girls are beautiful but with the intelligence of a doberman. They were given to him as mock, but his pets suppressed expectations in his hands. Paul doesn't mind them at first, they scare him but it's nothing he can't deal with. He knows Feyd loves them, he usually doesn't show soft emotions, not here, never here, but Paul just knows, he can feel it. So he approaches the girls, he has heard all kinds of horrible things about the Na-Baron's harem of cannibals, but that's just what they are. They were born cannibals, they need human meat, Feyd is a gladiator, he keeps the girls fed, nothing else. For the world it looks sadistic and evil, adding to Feyd-Rautha's lore, from up close, it's really what Feyd can show of compassion. Gretel, Mischa and Niobe, they can't talk, but they're smart, Paul teaches them some sign language. Feyd is more than impressed, the girls usually don't let themselves be approached by strangers, but Paul won them over, especially Niobe, she's the one more taken by his little husband, follows him around and is eager to communicate, even started to sleep by his bed. Feyd asks to learn sign language too, of course, he also wants to communicate better with the girls. Paul can explode with happiness, something else to bond over!!! They're already have fighting, flying and Paul noticed the dedication Feyd has with his looks and decides to match him. It takes hard work, but Feyd starts to relax around Paul. He also understands Paul is his equal, just as intelligent, just as resilient, he can see Paul and Paul can see him. He's still hesitant, like a wild animal who was kept in a cage too long, but he's getting there and that's okay for Paul, he'll teach his husband, feelings are hard and Feyd never learned to deal with them besides bottling them up and attacking first, but now Paul is here, they are friends.

Enough spice in the food has enhanced his perception, he noted, and easily enough, he knows who he is, what he is, not just a Harkonnen by marriage but by blood. He can feel it now, in the back of his conscience, that thing that have always flown through his blood but he could never name it, hedonism. His sheltered, kinda repressed, life in Caladan makes him a little angry, all he has been denied and for what?. The Baron obviously takes a like for him, and he understands why, he also understands why Feyd seems uncomfortable, almost disgusted with it, and he too, feels a little thrown off by it, but he's bene gesserit, he uses it.

No reason to tiptoe aroud it, Paul calls him grandpa, which just makes the Baron happier with him. He stays at the Baron's side, sits with him in his floating device, talks about whatever the Baron wants, let's his thick hands linger, he gains advantages over the fat man. Soon enough, he's included in the important conversations. Even though the old man is a disgusting creature, Paul sees he's also very intelligent, and even learns a thing or two from the Baron. His grandfather is more than happy to dress him up in the most expensive fabrics, parade him around like a trophy, and Paul does the Baron's biding because yes, he's the most disgusting man in the galaxy but boy, he sure knows what he's doing, and he's got to make the most out of his situation. He knows his family would be outraged to see the Duke's son like this, in the Baron's lap, laughing, clinging to him, whispering in his ear a thing or two he noticed about the nobles around them. But Paul is not just the Duke's son, he's bene gesserit, he has the power here, he's a mentat, he's doing this for the advantages, he's Harkonnen, he's doing this because he can, because it's his birthright.

Paul noticed how Feyd would tense up in the Baron's presence, how he hated to be touched by anyone but held very still anytime it was necessary, he noticed Feyd would cover his body head to toe when he had the choice, only socially he would be showing skin, enchanting everyone around him like a good showman, and Paul knew he hated it, he knew he was doing what he was taught to do, to be a good boy and entertain. Maybe after a while he ever got a taste for that, not enough to enjoy having skin showing around the Baron, but enough to do it effortlessly.

After so much time around the Baron, Paul learned he did, in fact, have strong Harkonnen blood running through his veins. He enjoys power, he enjoys lavishness, he is very much a hedonist. The bene gesserit training served him well, but he saw through them now, he would not do their bidding, especially after learning what they did to Feyd, setting a trigger word that would render him paralyzed, "for safety" they said, it makes his blood boil. Taking away Feyd's agency, making him vulnerable, he knows those are Feyd's biggest fears, oh how he would snap those witches necks with his bare hands, maybe he will if they ever get too close to his husband. Let them think he tamed the beast, let them think of him as a beast, that keeps him safe, and Paul learned from Feyd, add fuel to the fire if it's working for you.

His training from his old masters also served him well, but now that his grandfather included him in real talks about the imperium he knows there's no such thing as morally better or whatnot, if anything, his father was not very smart, leading with his heart and training with repression. He loves his family dearly, but the world is so much bigger now, and out of everyone, is the Baron teaching him. His sees now, his mother is a Harkonnen like any other, hungry for power, he cannot see how love would blind such a powerful woman, that's why she defied the sisterhood, why she tried to make him a boy, the one. He wonders how different things would be if she had been raised by her father, maybe she would be like himself now.

Like the Baron, he thought of Feyd as "his", differently from the Baron, he would NEVER hurt him, and that's how he distance himself from that man, he can not stand the thought of Feyd being hurt, and he will do whatever it takes to protect his husband, his friend. He knows Feyd initially was angry at him for this behavior, withdrawing from him, he couldn't understand why Paul would let the Baron touch him, knowing what he knew, knowing what he did to Feyd, how could he be fine with that, was he that much like his grandfather? it was revolting to him. And at first, Feyd thought his husband was stealing his thunder, then, he thought his husband was giving himself for free. It took a while for Feyd to realized that with Paul gliding around the room in his pretty, expensive clothes the Baron chose for him, nobody, especially the Baron, minded him. He could wear the clothes he was comfortable with, no one cared, he didn't need to say a word to anyone, all eyes were on Paul, the sweet, pretty grandson of the Baron Harkonnen. He felt it, Paul was doing this for him, no one was going to touch him, no one was going to be all over him, he wasn't going to be forced to perform, the Baron would not hurt him, not under the little witch boy's spell. Paul was also safe from the people around them, Feyd was a plaything until he started to bite back, but no one would touch the Baron's arm candy, the Baron's only grandson. Feyd is as close to free as he could ever be, thanks to Paul, he almost can't keep it in his chest, the dukling likes him so much he is willingly at the Baron's side, knowing that his family will not be happy with that. No one had ever protected Feyd before, maybe his mother once, but he couldn't really remember. And like that, he trusts Paul, and maybe that's what love feels like. Paul knows what loves is, he was loved from his first breath, and when he sees it in the Na-Baron's eyes, directed at him, he feels complete.

In the early days of their marriage, when Feyd was very skittish around him, and would not touch him, Paul thought of many things, maybe the Na-Baron didn't find him attractive? or maybe he was repulsed by sex altogether, odd, considering what he learned about Geidi Prime and Harkonnen culture. Maybe he was impotent? no, the sisters would've told him that, they wouldn't jeopardize the way for an heir. That wouldn't do, they needed an heir to secure this union and Feyd unwillingness to touch him as unbecoming.

One day, during their training session, Paul was wearing a short blouse that would ride up with every move, he caught the older boy's eyes lingering on his frame, he said nothing, Feyd also said nothing. Then Paul noticed his struggle to move, the Na-Baron's pants had become tight, the duckling smiled to himself, so he was attracted to him after all, and he clearly could get it up, so what was the issue?. One day, Paul used the Voice on Feyd, they were wrestling, he thought it would be funny to get the upper hand like that, and a good way to let Feyd know of his abilities. He was wrong, Feyd moved so fast way from him, it was as if he used the Voice to tell him that and not "down". He looked terrified for a moment before he caught himself, still away from Paul as he got up. Paul felt so bad, he understood why Feyd was terrified, Feyd hated not having control over his own body, more than hate, he feared that. Paul explaind he only wanted Feyd to know he could do it, told him he would NEVER use the Voice on him again, apologized profoundly. Feyd acknowledged his explanation but was very surprised by the apology, he liked it, Paul could tell. He decided to show what a pinky promise was, and made a promise with Feyd. Feyd-Rautha was quite happy with that.

They had become more comfortable with each other over the weeks, they held hands and hug every once in a while. Paul would have vison nightmares sometimes, other times Feyd would have nightmares, after calming down they would just hug until they fell asleep again, Feyd was getting found of hugs. Paul even got a kiss! the only other time they kissed was at their wedding and Feyd did as fast as he could.

One day, while they were laying in bed, just enjoying the other's company, Feyd asked, out of nowhere, if he would use the Voice on someone else. Paul took a while to respond that yes, if he needed, he would, he saw something shine in Feyd's eyes, he couldn't tell-- "you're very powerful" Feyd said, not blinking, looking directly at him, breathing heavily, and oh, that's it, Feyd is not only attracted to him, he's also attracted to power. Paul then decided to show how much he appreciated his husband by giving him power over himself. Feyd, unlike him, was experienced, forced to perform, then acquired a taste for it, for taking back. Paul knew what he was taught as a bene gesserit and what his grandfather had shown him in filmbooks but nothing felt like giving in to Feyd, not having to be the one in control all the time, just letting go, he trusted Feyd, knew he would never hurt him, and Feyd trusted Paul to never force him to do anything. They were a united front now.

[franeridan]

ace's death might be the biggest thing fans regularly retcon in op fanworks and that's probably because ace is one of the most loved characters in the whole series but i was thinking that a huge part of why people can't just accept that it was a necessary evil and move on is that ace died without ever knowing sabo was alive and sabo got his memories back only after it was too late to do anything about them re: ace. by people I mean me. I find that unacceptable.

[wrinkledparchment]

if we meet again, somewhere far away

My dearest, I will not rush to join you in heaven, to stand by your side again.

I will not run to the arms of relief, the sweet embrace of death, to escape this pain.

I will not end my time prematurely, I will not do as you did.

I will take my time, picking flowers in the field, buying every souvenir, eating something new, meeting the people you did not.

I will take my time, in visiting the places that you wanted to go with me, smiling in the sunshine, getting wet in the rain.

I will gather these experiences, photographs, trinkets, flavours, scents, and I will present them to you, when it is all over.

I will empty my pockets before you, and show you what you willingly gave up. I will show you the laughter, the joy, the love, the light, and the sadness, the grief, and the bittersweet.

I will present it all to you, and I will tell you, smiling, "Do you see what you missed?"

And I will sob before you too, and I will ask what I've been wondering all this time, "Why didn't you want to Come with me?"

And I will have to settle for the answer I didn't want, "I didn't know there was such beauty, until you showed it to me."

And I will grab your hands, and I will look you in the eyes. "I could've shown you, if you'd asked." And we will both cry and apologize, finally understanding each other, because we will both know that I was lying.

[milo-is-rambling]

Me when I want to be wanted more than anything else