#idk sometimes my mutuals post things that Personally make me uncomfortable and generally i either filter whatever tag or . Suck it up ?

[absentmoon]

i think also like the jump to blocking longtime mutuals or people you talk to just bc they draw a character you like and themselves together is so like. Like

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

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Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel. 

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames. 

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach. 

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill. 

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell. 

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!” 

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool. 

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone. 

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts. 

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.” 

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer. 

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind. 

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though? 

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement. 

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone. 

It wasn’t always that way. 

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank. 

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America. 

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose. 

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him. 

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked. 

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018. 

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface. 

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves. 

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away. 

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.” 

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?” 

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled. 

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table. 

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?” 

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face. 

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.” 

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?” 

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching. 

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door. 

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. 

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown. 

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering. 

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony. 

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot. 

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed. 

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex. 

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight. 

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him. 

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility. 

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late. 

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants. 

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling. 

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?” 

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers. 

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal. 

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him. 

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin. 

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.” 

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it. 

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle. 

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”  

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.” 

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?” 

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject. 

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had. 

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group. 

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him. 

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly. 

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk. 

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes. 

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.” 

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?” 

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.” 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.” 

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room. 

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet. 

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form. 

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.” 

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.” 

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up. 

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room. 

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today. 

My place. 

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place. 

Not permanently, anyway. 

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit. 

It can’t become a habit. 

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear. 

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him. 

This weekend he felt powerless. 

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery. 

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side. 

The answer to his prayers. 

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself. 

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined. 

But mostly, it was a relief. 

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears. 

Even if he can probably never tell you again. 

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up. 

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear. 

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV. 

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?” 

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.” 

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?” 

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.” 

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease. 

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?” 

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV. 

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots. 

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break. 

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.” 

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.” 

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.” 

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?” 

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.” 

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip. 

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace. 

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies. 

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat. 

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock. 

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse. 

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet. 

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips. 

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you. 

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. 

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod. 

This is stupid. 

You both know it. 

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him. 

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side. 

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much. 

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver. 

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself. 

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak. 

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice. 

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze. 

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper. 

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself. 

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge. 

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips. 

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking. 

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed. 

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs. 

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest. 

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.” 

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs. 

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?” 

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation. 

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?” 

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison. 

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.” 

That makes up his mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.” 

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.” 

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp. 

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion. 

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them. 

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer. 

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin. 

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement. 

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?” 

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air. 

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud. 

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child. 

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?” 

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation. 

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place. 

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it. 

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest. 

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around. 

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask. 

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone. 

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses. 

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him. 

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying. 

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing? 

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face. 

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks. 

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be. 

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.” 

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. 

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate. 

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud. 

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace. 

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable. 

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.” 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms. 

Then it’s quiet. 

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really. 

“This is good,” you say eventually. 

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.” 

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside. 

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges. 

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past. 

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face. 

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his. 

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?” 

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

[fellhellion]

rant thats gonna go all over the place but since it touches briefly on why i dont feel personally vibe w dimtri/dedue and edelgard/hubert PLUS something an anon said to me months ago that ive been mulling on its going under the cut. but overall its more just me talking aloud about the weird relationship people have media having problematic aspects. 

the thing is this website has an incredibly. strange and complicated relationship with the idea of something being problematic. i remember feeling utterly bemused when some anoned me a message thanking me for not calling dimitri/dedue problematic in my post saying why i personally just didnt vibe with the pairing. 

and the thing is. i KNOW the language bro. i can spin you a post that gives a reading of that relationship that makes an argument for problematic aspects in that kind of romantic relationship or even just in the writing choices that were made. i can talk about how i feel extremely uncomfortable with a romantic relationship between those two characters or edelgard/hubert because the devotion these men have to their respective lieges IS examined as something that damages the overall quality of their emotional health because being devoted to a person to that extent DOES THAT TO YOU. and i dont personally feel comfortable with that. 

i can write make an argument for that being a problematic aspect to the pairings but you know what? even if i totally felt that way about them or that that idea was completely true, EVEN IF WE COULD SUPPORT THAT READING THROUGH EVERY LINE IN THE SCRIPT, that tells me nothing about the actual people that enjoy those ships????? 

it’s tells me as much about those people as their favourite idk fruit. 

because i KNOW what that anon was actually saying was “oh thank god you didnt call me a Bad Person for enjoying that ship”

for one, i think people need to make their peace with the fact that literally any piece of media will have problematic aspects to it and can STILL have enjoyable aspects to it or even - yes i know lmao - arististic value. and oftentimes not everyone is even going to agree on how much of either fkshfkjd

jane eyre is one of my favourite books and it’s RIDDEN with underlying racist ideas. or to bring the convo back to the topic we’re familair with: for example, the way sylvains is written has him be misogynystic to women when, by the logic of what the writing is trying to convey (a charater that lashes out against and knowingly hurts people due to deep trust issues)  the guy should be equally distrusting of men, if for different reasons. and yknow what? i didnt even realise this until i saw someone else point it out! i completely didnt even realise that problematic aspect to his writing and yet what does that tell YOU about ME as a person? what can u say with certainty about me, user clouiis on tumblr dot com, when i still honestly enjoy him as a character even WITH that misogynystic writing. 

i KNOW my reaction to those ships is just personal (and not even consistent with how ive felt about darker themes in different media) because hey guess what! i love nbc hannibal and that show has a FAR more mutually destructive and harmful relationship being explored and explicitly talked about in both the characters povs as romantic. so i know myself, i KNOW how i feel about edelgard/hubert and dimitri/dedue is just a personal vibe and even now im not sure why it bothers me so much when something worse doesnt. and yknow what? sometimes it IS just a purely personal reaction, or belies deeper internalised thoughts. idk! i havent unravelled it all yet!

minor detour but even on TOP of my personal interpretation of the pairings, it’s just one reading. it’s the perspective of ONE person and you make effective arguments against my own example! hell ill do it myself! for dimitri/dedue specifically, their supports explicitly tackle and address the power imbalance between them and it’s made very clear by their A support that these characters mutually long for that power imbalance to be dismantled and WONT advance their complicated relationship further UNTIL they can do that. i can make that argument and yet emotionally still feel uncomfortable w it! thats just how it be sometimes!

both that argument and my original one can be supported by the text. thats often just how literary analysis GOES. and youll find there’s weaknesses in BOTH stances i made, perspectives i havent accounted for or even thought of! 

this is a whole rant that went nowhere but i hope some of my general vibe is coming across somewhat fkjdshfkjd

[frillshark-fr]

How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question

i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort. 

so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful

1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire!  but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened

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2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr!  Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.

-

2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come

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3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void. 

-

3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.

the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?

-

3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think

-----

4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that   if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything!  people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!! 

-

4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”

- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.

-----

okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class

edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:

i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine

[lcnguor]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Mik      Age: 26       Contact: IM, discord, smoke signal, whatever.

Character(s) I rp: Nora, Spike. Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Nora, most likely Current Fandom(s): Fandomless Fandom(s) you have an AU for:  pretty much everything I find around and hop on. My language(s): spanish, english.  Themes I’m interested in for rp:   Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: modern without supernatural, I do have some fantasy set up but eh. 

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?:   YES / NO   only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?:   YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?:  24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?:  IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting:  ask, IM, discord, singing telegram, smoke signals, messeger pidgeos -- whatever dude. I will most likely talk and ramble a lot, I do like plotting and I squeeze my brains out to think in ways to rp with ppl. and I really suck at approaching others. really...

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner:  Ideas and somewhat more enthusiasm than me. I tend to shy away or feel very much awkward right off the bat if the person approaches me with not much to say or give. And honestly, some people really intimidate me because I am too hard on myself, so giving a bit of a pat on the back makes me relax more. I deal with a lot of anxiety and I know people run away the second I show it. 

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?:  Mostly when I am doing the talk or coming with ideas or looking generally more interested. It takes effort for me to get on things and actually do stuff but if it’s not the other way around I end up thinking they got bored of me. I am one hell of insecure person. As for what I do, if after many tries of trying to reach another person and end up feeling rejected or ignored, then ... I stop. What’s the point of insisting if the other person would just be awkward or not spare you a word?

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?:  well, I usually ask first what the other thinks or have in mind, if nothing, I either suggest or start brainstorming with the other person. I know some who have dealt with me at first I seem like a dettached person but not having ideas really makes me feel like I have not much right to talk. I want to give yet without impossing or letting it twist my arm. I know for a fact nora’s lore really doesn’t help shit for most things. 

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if the thread was meaningful and we were really into it , then I would ask but as for the most, I don’t really bother with it. Sometimes people just lose muse, and even if I was enjoying it, I don’t have the right  to force someone or ask why they stopped. thread dropping is normal, i guess.  - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?:  whatever they want. telling me or not is up to them, I don’t really mind. RP is not something SUPER serious like it should be just perfect. I try to convice myself of this a lot.

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?:  either because it was old as fuck, I couldn’t find muse or because it was lost in the void of tumblr’s amazing tracking system. - Will you tell your partner?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you?   YES / NO. - And why?:  if I do not have some idea of who am i rping with and what they have in mind, then it’s nearly impossible. being purely IC is really uncomfortable and could lead to a lot of misundertandings. - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?:  yeah. mostly yeah -- I mean, I will feel bad, I do have feelings, but I will take it with water. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way?  YES ( but I will feel bad anyways ) / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?:  connect with others, ramble a lot about characters, have fun. I’ve been rping since i was 12 ( back then it was not big deal your age apparently ) and having to connect with other people by making these plots and stories and just having a fun time is something that brings me joy. There’s so much that can be done. And exploring my muses with other muses influences is really helpful to fill the holes left due indecisiveness.

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios:  I wish people joined my lore more. Having muses that could be in the same story department as Nora in particular, would be hella and inspire me more. There is so much I have. Explore nora’s power is also something I want but it’s hard -- it’s very invasive and not many would really like it, feeling it’s meta. For now, I don’t really have other muses and Spike has her little crew outside tumblr.

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore:  umm, it’s hard to think in something in particular. But mostly stuff that collides with nora’s story/character. but there is a lot I am willing to explore.

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: casual starters are my fab. It’s easier to figure out how  to go or stop and think. plotted ones also work. as for what I dislike or cannot work with, things that force my muse to not act how they would? not giving me something solid is hard to handle. 

What type of characters catch your interest the most?:  I really like out of the norm muses, something that you see and say /oh , look at that/. Aesthetically, story wise or personality wise, something that goes out the usual troup most would use. I do have a guilty pleasure for opposite to my muse characters --- something that would really show the contrast with one another.

What type of characters catch your interest the least?:  Very basic ones? or those who try TOO hard to be special. A character that doesn’t fit in the context they are in, esp. in fandoms. HEAVILY divergent characters that just basically turn them into OCs. I know I sound like a bitch but I am the type who respect canon and the actual author behind the character too much. Also those that I don’t know much about? as in, the fandom never managed to catch my interest or smth in that line.

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?:  I know where is the line between fiction and reality. And that what your character does it does not reflect as the person you actually are. I am pretty laid back and I understand people’s views and reasoning. idk. I draw a lot if I am super invested ?

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: I am super sporadic and can go from being super active to flat out dead for weeks. my mood swings a lot with the amount of attention I get, as horrible as it sounds. I am very anxious as a person for reasons ( not IRL mostly, just bad experience from previous partners ). I promise a lot but do little? honestly I will just bad mouth myself if I keep writing this.

Do you rp smut?:  YES ( tho mostly on discord ) / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?:  YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?:  both? - Anything you would not want to rp there?:  ehhhh, idk -- i don’t do as much to know what I don’t like here.

Are ships important to you?:   YES / NO / RELATIVE. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?:   YES / NO. Do you use read more?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?:  the very nature of human relations. I am talking about Nora big time here -- there is a lot to explore in her relations and how she reacts and acts towards someone is very very contextual. How much she fakes, how much she is sincere, how much she struggles or how relaxed can be. force her to show her real self, which is very hazy even for her as a task. Be very poetic deep and also very shallow. I particulary see her as a character that REALLY depends on her relation with the other muse -- but generally speaking for any of my muses: I love to explore them as a pair and as individuals. - What is your smut tag?: the unfamily friendly. ( new tag (?))

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: Anything? I am open to anything honestly. As long as it makes sense.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?:  Anyone who is denying their feelings, are peculiar as an individual or anyone who needs an insight of themselves and the world around them. Nora is a mentor type of character, she is here to be a support and help others explore themselves and learn. Also if you are a minor, she will most likely try to get close to help -- one must protect the good sad kids.

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?:  Stubborn, very fixated with things. Who would not open themselves to other perspective without thinking someone is trying to change them. Also she would struggle a heck lot with psychopaths and sociopaths, or anyone that “doesn’t have a face” for her. - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?:  Curious people, struggling ones, kids in general -- people that are willing to listen to her opinions and try to improve in a positive way. Also those who are quirky in a way. 

- What interests your Muse(s) in general:  rabbits, literature, interesting people, the unknown, learning, relationships of all natures.  - What do they desire, is their goal?:  Live long without letting her particularity ruin her -- for her kind nobody makes it past the 50s and she wants that , to conquer her ability and prove that even with something like she is ( they are ), it’s posible to live and be happy. have a family of her own, yeah she is that cheesy. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?:  Their actions and the emotions that they are carrying on their back.  - What do they value in a person?:    sincerity, willingness, enthusiasm. - What themes do they like talking about?:  a lot of phylosophic stuff, deep topics -- as well to casual things of life. about people and society. - Which themes bore them?:  excuses and avoidance -- people who are willing to drop everything and give up.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?:  the attempt of suicide of her mother. and the successfull suicide of many of her peers. - What could possibly trigger them?:  any sort of threat or violence towards someone who does not asked for it. esp. her peers and family. - What could set them off, enrage them?:  Immoral ones. Those who are willing to stomp on others just to success in their goal. - What could lead to an instant kill?:  is not killing, but touch a hair of her family and you are done. same for her friends and protegees.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?:  gorgers, suicide, her tired face. - Is there someone /-thing they love?:   her family and dear ones --- to a fault. rabbits or anything related to it.

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  any way is okay as long as is not threatening. - Where are they usually to find?:  during the night, in the streets -- during the day is either her workplace or her house. maybe a park near her apartment/location if she is feeling stuffy.

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?:  she is not a good person , she is willing to manipulate people and is constantly trying to impose her morals. but she is also very sensitive even if she doesn’t show it --- Nora does look tired for a reason , and one of them is because she cries a lot . 

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @skyvar​ Tagging:  @batoushoujo​ , @obtainedloss​ , @lorddiiavolo​ , @evanesense​ , @sunpierce​ , @necrotrigae​ , @maljefe​ , @ethaeria​ , @calpio​ , @veiliisms​

[zombiequincy]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Hela     AGE: 21       CONTACT: IM

CHARACTER(S): Giselle Gewelle, Yumichika Ayasegawa (inactive)

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR:  I have gory Bloodborne au but that one just exists in my head on my lonesome.

MY LANGUAGE(S): English and one very specific Middle Eastern dialect.

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc. 

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?:   YES / NO    only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK. (i love it all sorry I am quite the mixed bag lmao)

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?:   YES / NO. i gotta know what certain human body parts taste like u know

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. it’s SO BAD FOR ME RN ASGLDKJDJKA i’m very inconsistent i’m so sorry.

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. / a lot of it has more to do w my general writing mood and if the thread im writing catches my interest, and rn im writing a TON of really wonderful and fascinating threads so they’re all super captivating for me and i try to reply asap

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC. (i have a lot of stupid shit sorry) 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: just send me a tumblr instant message, i know it sucks shit but im not comfy releasing my discord w everyone just yet cause i use it for personal use as well. i check tumblr on the daily so if you send me a message chances are i’ll see it and respond!

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER:  i guess just be able to put up with my rambling and stopping and starting, a lot of characterisation choices i do go through various stages and its pretty messy so when i communicate that with others it usually ends up equally messy. just be patient with me please.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?:  i don’t mind! sometimes ppl have more ideas that they want to share first and i’m always super happy to listen to those ideas !! sometimes its nice to have someone with a clear guide or structure and be able to work around that rather than trying to fumble through a plot together.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?:  i try to map out some basic info abt their characters that i otherwise don’t know from their bio or verses and try to pick out points of confrontation or similarities to expand on with giselle that can be used as points for like a starter to happen. its either that or sometimes i have really stupid ideas i just toss out there like ‘LMAO THEYRE BREAKING SHIT AT DISNEYLAND’ and go buck wild from there if the other person is down. i also always try to warn people or get a gauge for what subjects to avoid and steer clear of considering that giselle is a bit of a Freak(tm) and will say and do bad things.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if there’s something giselle did or said that upset you, i would love to know not to repeat it again (since i do still feel pretty new to the rp game, theres still plenty of time for me to make stupid mistakes). if its just a general lack of interest or uncertainty of where the plot should go, then you dont have to tell me i wont take it personally i promise ! 

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: sometimes i can be made uncomfortable by certain things mentioned... it happens but its rare 

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. i don’t want to upset anyone personally and sometimes explaining the ins and outs of my discomfort make things ten times worse so i just. would rather not.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: i am the most nervous person you can meet and my brain is always giving me misinfo abt paranoia and random shit so i having clear concrete communication between two parties abt if something is going wrong or is being received poorly means the world to me.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGA1TIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: i need it !! i still feel relatively new to all this and i need to know whats going wrong to improve !! 

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: to help with my confidence in writing! i have v bad anxiety when it comes to sharing my works and i write a lot of other pieces alongside this blog on ao3 and i want to develop my writing skills just in general. when it comes to like the nuts and bolts of why i rp giselle specifically, its mainly to just have fun and have a laugh w my friends who are really awesome quincy writers

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS:  OH SO MANY! ive managed to fulfil a lot of my wishlist threads with like, giselle talking to characters she’s already zombified and i love all that angst but i want to do more stupid shit. i want to make it my personal goal to bully every quincy man and woman on sight. although a REAL dream would be if i got to write a thread zombifying a character who managed to escape giselle’s clutches. and more fighting! i want to get better at describing action and fights and i love to write giselle getting beat up and beating people up! more more more!! 

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE:   hohoho theres a LOT... uh r*pe/dubcon threads for one, even if yeah i know writing it doesnt condone it, it makes me intensely uncomfortable to put my muse in that scenario, i feel like i have an obligation to like, protect her from that shit you know? racism is one i don’t want to transgress, even though i’m a poc, its not really cathartic or groundbreaking to write abt racism in threads its just... really fucking upsetting. also i know the quincy’s have this very close parallel to the whole n*zi imagery and ideology thing going on and i am not about to start even daring to thread that into my writing or bring those allusions and references of real life tragedies into giselle’s threads. i’ve already talked at length abt exploring giselles trans identity in rp and why im not comfortable doing so, so.... yeah! all those i guess.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: i like starters where giselle can just immediately get right into being a piece of shit. mise en scene and all that! cut out the build up and just get to the intense horror !! i don’t like starters where its not immediately clear where the characters are standing and what they’re doing and what’s happening around them. those really disorientate me and leave me kinda floundering because i always need some allusion or mention of a setting to ground giselle in a time and place other wise i cant tell what her response should be

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?:  EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN. also just characters i can wholeheartedly clown on, or also characters who have hidden depths to them and have a single panel of screentime. honestly it’s just all over the place!

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?:  angry old men GSADJDKSJA i could never rp yhwach for example or yamamoto because idk. theyre just so crummy and boring to me. i also couldnt rp characters who always have an upper hand in battle like aizen. i like my dumbasses and i like them stupid and adaptive not just, ‘yes i know this because i Know this.’

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: i think im nice...? FKSJDKDJSA idk i hate trying to toot my own horn. sometimes i also think i make funny jokes and im pretty chill and laid back

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: my writing style is inconsistent and adapts to whatever i’m reading so sometimes it’ll be really good and i love it and other times it reads like really bad fanfic and i get carried away far too easily and write novella lengths for threads which should be much shorter. i also get shy a lot and dont think i communicate very effectively but HEYO we’re working on it!

DO YOU RP SMUT?:  YES / NO/ DEPENDS. haven’t had anybody brave enough to try yet lol

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: more for fun i’d imagine because that’s just giselles own attitude to sex and relationships where she doesnt want anything deep. it might show character development in one way of just showing how she regards others in a romantic sense to be used rather than actually appreciated as their own person and show how selfish she is but yeah, more out of fun

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?:  theres a few kinks and such but i dont think they’d ever really come up. again, just mainly no r*pe/dubcon.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?:   YES / NO lets hope this doesn’t make me sound like an asshole, but its more like a fun little side thing than anything important to giselle’s actual development and characterisation. 

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. again, hardly anyone is brave enough to try to romance this evil cannibal.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU:  MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

- WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: more how giselle likes to give over her power or dominate in different circumstances depending on who she’s with and what’s being done. BUT AGAIN, not a whole lot to explore yet.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - i mean im down for p much anything if it vibes w giselle.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: if you want an evil woman to taunt and mock and hurt your muse, she’s your gal. you want her to zombify and ruin your muse, shes also your gal. you want her to insult and maim and injure, she’s also YOUR GAL. basically, if you want to do anything fucked up or sad or scary, she can help with that.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?:  uh muses who get really angry quickly or don’t rise or respond to her jabs and are just kinda like a flatline. theres only so much pestering and annoying she can do until realises its not working and just wanders off

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?:  to find a goal worth living for.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?:  appearance she always takes an interest in girls almost right away. age as well because she judges old people. 

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?:  a good set of guts to ruin and strong muscles.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?:  women, gore, murder, herself, music, stupid memes, gossip.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?:  politics, history, quincy ideology, soul reaper ideology, hollow physiology.

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?:  her family tried to force the burden of upholding the quincy lineage onto her shoulders, she was thrown into the wrong prison and held in isolation, then pressured to become an undying monster in service of a god and then was nearly killed by that same man and left wandering without guidance or purpose. so, yeah?

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?:  transphobia. even a whiff of it in her direction and she’ll gut you like a fish.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?:  the twink soul reaper who outted her.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  if you’re smart, you’ll bring a big bone for her to chew on and distract her while you ask whatever you want.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: i love my evil queen!

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @bazzardburner​ cheers chicken boy !!

Tagging: @hyouketsu​ @blooming5th​ @viciousvizard​ @glacies-tempestatem​ and whoever else wishes to do this!!

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

CW: transphobia, homophobia. Also pretty long and I'm on mobile so I cant put a read more thing on it.

Ok so this is kind of a personal post so if you don't wanna hear about some of my personal drama, just scroll along. But I feel like I need to get this shit on record somewhere since I don't have the screenshots of the texts this is concerning anymore.

So a little over a year ago, I told the person who'd been my best friend, we'll call her E, since I was about 9 that I didnt want to be friends with her anymore. More on that later.

Back in senior year of high school I started thinking I might be Bi. I brought this up to E and she was super dismissive right off that bat. Saying that I wasnt, sounding like she was trying to console me. Like being Bi was this awful thing that I needed to worry about.

Well fast forward about a year and a half and I went up to my college with her so I could do new student orientation since I was starting the next semester. This is when the fact that I was Bi sort of smacked me in the face because the girl doing my orientation was super hot. I immediately knew I wouldnt be telling E that.

Fast forward to march of 2017. Its spring break. I've reconnected with my high school friends. I've never felt the need to hide my sexuality from them and they were instantly nothing but supportive of me. We never really hung out outside of school back in high school (or in elementary school either in Eric's case.) I start realizing that I've been having more fun with them then I ever did with E. And I finally had people to geek out about sciencey stuff with because E doesnt believe in science but eric LOVES science. It was nice.

Well a couple weeks after spring break me and Es mutual friend Althea asked me to drive her to the shelter so she could get her boyfriends cat fixed (it's way cheaper there then at the vet) and spent the day hanging out with her because she WAS planning to walk back there to pick up the cat afterwards and I was like "uh no. I'm not gonna make you walk across town by yourself." So I finally got to meet her boyfriend. Well that afternoon E came and picked me up to go up to the KU campus to get some more bus passes to go to our college in KC because our school was out of bus passes and didnt know when theyd get more.

Here's when I kinda started to realize I should maybe get out of this friendship. On the way to campus E starts telling me about her day at school and how "theres a girl that used to be a guy in one of my teachers other classes. It's making me uncomfortable."

Me: "that sounds like a you problem, E."

Now I knew she kind of thought that way already. She may not have said shit like that around our other friends but I had to hear it a lot. But because I'm pretty nonconfrontational and she was my only close friend outside of school and I was terrified of being alone, I usually just ignored it or politely debated her about it but generally just agreed to disagree. This was the first time I ever decided to speak up to her about it. Unfortunately I couldnt say much cuz her mom was the one driving us and i knew she agreed with everything E said.

But I'd been hanging out with althea and her boyfriend (who just so happened to be trans) all morning so suddenly having to hear E talk about how uncomfortable trans people make her got me more fired up than usual.

After this I slowly started distancing myself from her. I'd been hoping for a few years that she'd grow up and accept that not everyone is like her and try to be more open minded and accepting of people. Apparently that wasnt happening.

I stopped responding to her texts as often. I was trying to think of a way to talk to her about it but all my past friendships that fell apart, did so naturally and on a silent mutual agreement. So I was half hoping that would happen. Pretty stupid. Dont recommend. Just be straight with people.

After a few months of me only answering her texts every once in a while, she decided to start calling me multiple times a week. Often while I was at work. Sometimes from her mom and sisters phones when I wouldnt answer from her number. Idk y she thought that would work. She knows I hate talking on the phone.

I still didnt know what to say to her. I probably should've just told her I needed some space and she might've backed off for awhile so I could figure it out. But subway stressed me tf out. And i have no idea how you're supposed to end a relationship with your best friend of over 10 years.

(Also some of my other reasons for not wanting to be friends with her were specifically because of althea and I didnt want althea to get dragged into it. Unfortunately it ended up happening anyways. But basically back in highschool, if we were planning for all four of us (me, e, althea, and nikki) to get together, and nikki would have something come up, E would tell althea our get together was cancelled but would still have me come over and then made me promise not to say anything to althea about it.)

Around march or april of last year I blocked her family's numbers. This is when they started showing up at my work. The first time it happened I had a long ass line and was helping my coworker get through it before I left. Her sister came in by herself and just asked how I was doing but left pretty quick after she got her sandwich since it was busy. A couple more times they came and just parked outside like they were waiting for me to get off my shift but ended up leaving. The last time it happened E came in while I was there alone and I really didnt wanna have THAT conversation while i was at work alone and her crazy overprotective mom was out in the car waiting for her. So i made her sandwich very quickly so i could get her out as fast as I could.

I was planning on finally talking to her around the end of april but was still having trouble figuring out what to say.

Unfortunately any plan I had to let her down easy was sort of thrown out the window on may 13th of last year.

My mom texted me that morning about how she got a weird call from Es aunt. On her work phone. This is basically how that call went:

"IS THIS OLIVIAS MOM?????"

My mom, suddenly worried it's my work and something happened to me, "Yes?"

"Why isnt olivia talking to E anymore?"

"............I dont know."

So that kind of crossed a line for me. It really freaked my mom out.

I'm bad at articulating my thoughts when I'm mad or stressed out tho. So my friend Alice ended up writing out the text for me and I read through it to make sure it was ok.

Basically it said "I'm sorry but I dont think we can be friends anymore. The way you talk about the LGBT+ community makes me extremely uncomfortable, especially seeing as I am bisexual and have several friends in the community. The way you used to exclude althea from hanging out with us because you think shes annoying and then expect me to lie to her about it makes me uncomfortable. It was inappropriate to show up at my work unannounced to corner me into talking to you when I needed space. And it was even more inappropriate for your relatives to call my mom at work. I'm sorry I didnt say something sooner but I'm tired of pretending I'm ok with everything you've said over the years."

Then her mom texts me. I dont remember all of it but the gist was "you're a horrible person. E never judged you or anyone else (sure, miss "gay people are gross. I can see how conversion therapy might work." Totally isnt judging anyone and 100% cares about the lgbt+ community.) The only reason she did those things is because she was worried about you."

Then E left me a voicemail that I couldnt understand at all cuz she was crying and I felt terrible even tho everyone was telling me I shouldn't. Now I probably should've taken out the part about althea because it effectively threw my "not wanting to get althea involved" plan out the window. Honestly what really pissed me off about this next part both made me pissed at E but also at myself. E removed herself from the group chat I had with her, nikki, and althea. Blocked althea on Facebook and blocked her number. Didnt bother to explain why. I still feel terrible about this even tho althea has told me many times that it's fine and if she'd had to pick a side she wouldve picked mine. But I still felt like she at least deserved an explanation.

Alice told me to screenshot the texts. I almost didn't cuz I just wanted to forget about all this. But I did.

Anyways life moved on. Eric got a new phone and gave me his beat up galaxy s7. I stuck my s6 into a drawer and let it die and forgot about it.

Then on new years I got a call from althea. Not weird at all. She calls me every major holiday and birthday. Shes done this every year since junior year of high school.

Normal phone call at first. But then she says that her mom has been talking to E's mom. Apparently E's mom told altheas mom that I told E that althea hates her and thinks shes a terrible person and that's why E hasnt been talking to althea. Althea of course didnt believe that but wanted me know about it. This prompted me to try and charge up my old phone and get the screenshots off of it. I had it plugged in for a couple of days and it never turned back on. So that's out apparently.

That's also why I felt the need to get all of this written down. It may not be as great as having the actual screenshots but I'm bad at articulating my thoughts when confronted so I want to have something written down in case any of this comes up again.

[inkofamethyst]

July 6, 2021

Sometimes I don’t want anyone within a fifty-foot radius of me but other times I desperately desire for someone to offer to gently detangle my damp hair, their fingers at the nape of my neck, tracing the lines in my scalp, tenderly parting my coils into sections with a rattail comb as I sit cross-legged in front of them.

ahem,

anyway.

I tried drafting the vest from the Keystone guide!!  I think I’m just going to buy the Black Snail Patterns one!!  Drafting sucks and I just felt so frustrated following those instructions.  Screw you, Mr. Keystone (I don’t think the dude’s name was Keystone, but you get the point).  Ugh, I’m not having the best of luck in my latest sewing adventures, but that’s what it’s like to be at the low intermediate level.  Tailoring is hard, historical sewing is harddddd.  I wish I had the patience to do it.

I was so sure that I was going to get it right, you know.  I even went to Home Depot this afternoon to get one of those L-shaped rulers for this project specifically.  Now I’m down eight dollars and I could’ve just bought the $8 pdf pattern instead, but I wanted to be ~fancy~ and ~diy~ and all that.  Ugh.

You know, one of these days, I’m going to run out of things to say.  Today ain’t that day, and tomorrow ain’t lookin so good either, but one of these days, I’m sure, it’s coming.

It’s funny, one of my ~mutuals~ (shudders at the thought of being perceived, then shudders even more at the thought that they might’ve read my Dream discourse) mentioned in the “comments” of a post from a few days ago that hardly anyone appreciates the dedication to a diary.  First of all, I’m neurotic and use these to dump all the thoughts I feel uncomfortable dumping onto anyone else.  I am literally screaming into the void.  Second, I also have a ton of time on my hands right now for some reason?  Like, way more than I should.  I doubt that the almost-daily quality of these will be maintained into the fall semester.  As I said, these are totally a coping mechanism.  On campus I can see a performance or something to cope lol (also there’s just a ton more to doooo).  Third, and most importantly, I really appreciate these :D  I love being able to go back and read about good times and reminisce, and I’m even able to comfort myself about the not-so-good times and how issues that seemed really big then turned out to not be all that important in the long run (or they sorted themselves out).  Honestly this whole journal is that arc exactly which is kind of funny.

I mean, you know what they say: historians find boring, day-to-day accounts of people’s lives to be the best resources for piecing together exactly how people in a time period lived.  I volunteer as tribute to be the representative for upper middle class black girls (and a whole host of other descriptors), I guess.

idk I find it interesting to look back and read bits and pieces from my own daily life.  Things I’ve forgotten and the like.  And a lot of it is embarrassing to read which is why I seriously have to consider moving all of these posts into an archive somewhere.  I don’t know how I would be able to do that while still maintaining the “aesthetic” and formatting of this blog (mostly nature photos with interspersed text), but that is something I’d want to look into.  This whole blog really is just a collage of me on any given day.  I love it and it terrifies me.  Some days, I get really nervous with the idea of someone finding this blog lol.  It’s most definitely an irrational fear though, I’m sure.  Honestly, I should probably change my profile picture (maybe I’ll add a filter over it if I don’t want to alter it completely) because it’s super recognizable as my ~personal brand~ that I’ve been using since high school since I’m not really a selfie person (they make me feel extremely uncomfortable).  I use the same image for a bunch of profiles, so, yeah.

Anyway yeah it’s a shock to my system when I’m perceived in general, especially here.

Worked the uke a bit more today, nothing intense, but I do know that cute Lava song from the pixar short, so that’s cool.

Today I’m thankful for... idk I’m thankful that I don’t have to pinch pennies lol.

[diviinedogs]

I know this is weird but is it cool to ask what s/t/even//qun//iv did? I used to follow them but idk what happened and lots of my mutuals don't want to interact with them either but no one will tell me why and I'm scared I'm just being annoying and stupid :c

yeah totally fine to ask!

it’s okay it’s not like there’s a callout or anything, I never went public with everything in it and any proof I have I have deleted/don’t have access too cuz I blocked

and oh do other people not like them? cuz as far as I know just me and my girlfriend have them mentioned on a byf

I’m gonna leave out some things cuz like privacy and whatever and I’m going to try to make this as short as I can but I just know that this is going to be long, but if you want more details feel free to message me off anon

I used to be friends with them/they used to be in my friend group back in GF days, I broke off contact with them because they were making me as;ldkjf and super fucking anxious (towards when I was creating distance/trying to cut off they literally messaged me everywhere possible tumblr, skype, twitter, even snapchat…. I never opened the snaps because I was too anxious seeing it but we’ll get to that later) and they were possessive of me/jealous of other people who talked to me

I specifically noticed this with Ferrah, who would eventually become my girlfriend, we got together when I was still talking to this person, and another friend. In rabbitrooms, they would like stay there for hours and never talk unless it was just me and them,if specifically Ferrah or another friend was present thy would not talk. They even acted like this with my irl friend too. Like we even tried, once they were talking in a rabbitroom where I was marathoning Voltron and then when Ferrah showed up, they immediately stopped talking. Like, we went through the whole show and me and Ferrah were saying that the room was done because we were saying we were done but we were gonna like watch movies and other shows together alone, and I was like damn what if they’re not gonna leave because they didn’t talk this whole time, but they did. So they sat there quiet for HOURS without saying something at all and just reading the whole chat.

and like I found out I was their FP and like totally fine I had no problem with that at all! I thought things would be fine but I still noticed how awkward it was whenever they were together in a rabbitroom or stream with me and another friend. Most of the time when I streamed back then it would just be us too.

basically I started feeling iffy about the friendship around like??? last summer???

there was a vent blog and I discovered that they would avoid doing things and hanging out with irl friends just to specifically talk to me all day, and our conversations got a bit tiring to me to be honest because we…. talked about like ship/au stuff and there were A LOT and it went to the point where if you took no breaks between replies it would take two hours to respond to. Not to mention they were all for something I don’t ship anymore and sometimes they would reach unhealthy/possessive topics, it was really bad and it like horrified me to like take a step back and looking at what we talked about.

so like I saw posts on the vent blog that made me really uncomfortable too like……. wanting to fucking kill my parents and it was terrifying because??? we’ve never met in person but they live close to me and I was scared that they would come to my house and kill my dad while he was alone when I was on vacation

that was a huge deal to me, and I didn’t like how they were upset whenever I wasn’t using my laptop or phone not because my parents didn’t like it, but because it kept me from talking to them

when I got off the plane, my phone was on low battery and I had a barrage of messages from them telling me to tell them where I was and stuff, and like? not even my girlfriend sent me anything like that just that I had a safe trip and I messaged her back. Like, I only had an hour or so before my next flight and 13% on my phone and I’m gonna spend that talking girlfriend of course 

I don’t know the details or why they didn’t like my girlfriend, I just got the vibe from that and I knew that they had like a whole future for us planned together and that along with everything else they did made me super uncomfortable. Like, do you know how shitty it is to be upset that your friend has a relationship when nothing’s wrong with it???

and like… on twitter I knew they were stalking me because I would always get notifications of likes from them like instantly, and one time apparently they were reading a conversation I was having with my girlfriend and I know it because of this- they @ ed me saying that they “accidentally liked” a reply and didn’t mean to, but like they unliked it so fast I didn’t even get a notification, so like that right there just told me they were reading everything I was doing.

and generally, if I don’t reply to them in like an hour or by a certain time they don’t like that and that was really anxiety inducing to me too, to like have to reply or else it means something’s wrong

I didn’t stop being comfortable with them because I found out I was their FP, I was fine with that and I wanted to like try being a good one. But I could not handle everything they were doing and I recognized it as an unhealthy friendship on both sides. I did not feel comfortable with it anymore, I started ignoring them in I think August and it took up until September for my friends to convince me to cut it off. It was causing me so much anxiety and towards the end of it I could not even read messages from them without feeling anxious, I had to copy it and get my girlfriend or another friend to read it and tell me what they were basically saying.

I wanted to leave for my own mental health, safety, and my family’s safety because I do not take death threats lightly. It’s different if I’m venting to someone and I know their response isn’t serious.

I can go more into details about things but I’m choosing not to go public about them and any other upsetting/anxiety inducing things I don’t remember cuz I blocked them out 

I like don’t feel bad about cutting them off they made me so uncomfortable and anxiety filled and I didn’t want put myself through feeling like that for the rest of the friendship/my life by the way it was going.

[bartsugsy]

The Robron Break-Ups : A Definitive Guide (Part 2/Infinity)

*** UPDATED BECAUSE I LEGITIMATELY ALREADY MANAGED TO MISS ONE. I AM A HUMAN DISASTER. SO. NOW IT’S ACCURATE. YAY. ***

Part One / All

In this, the second part of the Robron Rejection Compendium, we look at the next 5 break-ups, even more honourable mentions and I start to cry about feelings, just a little bit. Go get yourself a cup of tea and settle in, because this part is way longer than it has any right to be.

(Also, to throw in a quick serious moment before i start cracking manslaughter jokes again, thank you so much for your kind comments and tags and likes etc for part one. I was kind of completely overwhelmed by the fact that people even took time to read it, because I wrote it half giggling to myself at how no one would be able to make it to the end of the thing. So, yes. I mean this with every bloody ounce of sincerity I have in my entire body - thank you so much for taking the time to read it. You all kind of made my evening.)

Anyway, on to Part Two and an honourable mention to kick things off…

Part Two: Pre-Manslaughter (continued)

Honourable Mention #2: 9th December 2014

The next honourable mention isn’t even slightly a break up - the opposite of one, actually, but this is my post and I’ll do as I please. This scene features Rob, strolling into the Woolie back room like he owns the place and confronting Aaron about the money Aaron is charging Chrissie for Robert’s car (mostly because he’s panicking about the fact that he’s somehow managed to start up an entire bloody affair with Aaron in the space of four days). The boys spend the whole scene arguing and Aaron is doing his absolute level best to wind Robert up and it’s working, but they’re also literally talking about how they’re absolutely without a doubt going to keep hooking up? This scene is just really underrated, basically, so I’m just casually dropping it in here. 

Besides, it would absolutely sound like it would qualify, given how dismissive and rude they are to one another, if not for the fact that, I repeat, this whole snippy, agressive conversation exists for them to talk about the fact that they’ve just had some pretty spectacular angry sex and agree that it’s definitely going to happen again.

6. 15th December 2014

At number 6, we have Robert and Aaron, hanging around awkwardly in Bar West. Robert is upset about Andy melting Jack’s wedding ring - and also, it turns out, deeply uncomfortable about being in a gay bar. Aaron is unsympathetic, Robert is generally horrible and they argue - it gets vicious, and it feels like a big bright sign warning of the horrors to come. It all ends when Robert tells Aaron to ~have fun with his friends~ and flounces off. Rob goes home and makes some more terrible decisions about Katie and Andy’s rings. Exactly no one is surprised.

How long did it last? I mean, they don’t share a proper scene for two whole days but let’s be honest, they were probably already thinking about boning again by that evening.

Who came crawling back first? Robert tracks down Ross and Aaron two days later to warn them about Chrissie calling the police and Robert touches Aaron’s chest and Aaron looks down at Robert’s hand and my heart goes all googly and squiggly and this is basically what boy sex is, isn’t it? idk I am just a poor lesbian

How little did they mean it? 3/5. Both angry, but have no intention of stopping, because hate sex is fun and early robron are all about the hate sex. (Or at least highly annoyed at one another sex)

7. 23rd December 2014

Aaron’s been hiding out in Brighton for a few days. He rocks back up into the village and he and Adam jump right into planning a new business over a pint. Robert (eavesdropping, because he literally wants to be up in Aaron’s business at all times 24/7 by this point) helpfully decides to invest, because what’s a spare 10k between illicit lovers? Aaron goes up to the bar to order another drink and Robert tries to charm Aaron into also buying him one, in his overdone, smarmy way, before immediately taking it all back and offering to buy Aaron a pint instead. Robert uses his soft, intimate, ‘Aaron’ voice and it’s just great. Aaron does not think it’s quite as charming as I apparently do and tells Robert that he doesn’t want anything from him. Again. You’ll hear that phrase a lot as we journey through this relationship together, dear reader. A lot. It’s always a lie.

How long did it last? Two days. This was a big one. Hoo boy. Two entire days.

Who came crawling back first? Robert basically disregards what Aaron says immediately because two seconds later, he’s talking to Adam about investing in their as-yet-to-be-decided business. Adam mentions this to Aaron, who seems very wary and just generally Not About It. Two days later (Christmas Day, time for giving, time for family, etc.), Aaron has another pop at Robert, after listening to Vic cry over Rob’s fight with Andy the night before. Something Aaron says clearly strikes a chord with Robert, because he goes back to his family and apologises, talks candidly about his feelings and about Jack. Robert says “you had [Jack] more than I did in the end” to Andy and I CRY LIKE THE SAD AND EMOTIONAL HUMAN I AM, because I have Robert Sugden feelings and also because millie keeps posting jack/robert headcanons and they’ve all ruined me.

Aaron is, handily, on hand (…I’m leaving that phrase in, leave me alone) to overhear Robert acting like a good and well-intentioned human being for the first time in… a while, probably. Of course, Robert’s terrible past decisions come back to bite him anyway and everything gets screwed up with Andy. Again.

Aaron, however, has already been won over by the fact that Rob didn’t just listen to him, but actually followed through and made an effort with his family. Aaron’s is all happy and impressed and they have THAT CONVERSATION IN THE SUITS WITH THE SWAYING AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL AND THEN THEY RUN OFF TO THE PUB TO MAKE SWEET SWEET LOVE and then get immediately interrupted by Katie because god hates joy, but not before having an A+ kiss.

Anyway, at some point during this day, Aaron accidentally goes from hating Robert to falling hopelessly in love with Robert and that’s pretty much it for Aaron. He just.. he falls in love with Robert and never looks back.

Robert also starts to fall in love with Aaron probably (but I’m not quite sure he realises, or recognises it, and if he does he is very afraid of it, because, again, he’s still deeply closeted. He’s still set on marrying Chrissie and living out all his rich and powerful fantasies). Rob is still very difficult to read, so we may never know for sure.

Anyway, there are probably mutual feelings involved, because they keep smiling at one another and it’s lovely and I’m crying softly just watching it. Just look at their love. Their beautiful, non-murdery love. Ah, some things never last.

How little did they mean it? 4/5. Aaron meant this break up. Robert found himself so eager to get back into Aaron’s good books that he started throwing money at him again (still hasn’t learnt) and then, in a beautiful turn of events, decided to instead to actually listen to him and lo, we are treated to the first instance of Aaron helping Robert better himself and I get emotional all over again because HE’S A REAL BOY NOW.

Honourable Mention #3: 1st January 2015

Aaron and Robert start hooking up in their barn and Rob invests his spare 10k purely as an excuse to see Aaron’s face on the reg. They have little flirty meetings in the coffee shop and all in all, it’s a nice little break from the drama. No arguments, no break ups. Just barn sex and lying to everyone. It’s wonderful.

Of course, this happiness does not last very long, because it’s a soap. Real life interupts and Robert is forced to stand Aaron up on New Year’s Eve (and ends up half moping around all evening because he knows he could be off at the pub getting laid, instead of schmoozing rich people) (can you believe Robert would rather be with Aaron than rich people? It’s love) and Aaron, who absolutely hates to seem soft and needy, but can be so soft and so needy sometimes (and I mean this in the gentlest way), especially when it comes to Robert, is sort of pissed. 

When Robert tries to cancel another plan, Aaron basically tells him that he either shows up at the barn for sex, or they’re done. Now, I don’t know how much I believe that threat personally, because I’ve written 4000 words so far on how much they suck at staying away from one another, but Robert seems to believe it, and, without even pausing to think things through, makes the decision to meet up with his secret boyfriend rather than babysit with his soon-to-be-Step Son, Lachlan.

Anyway, Aaron and Robert meet up, argue, have sex and it’s just generally A+++++

What do you mean this doesn’t count as a break up? Pfft you write it.

(…ok fine it’s not a break-up, but they do talk about ending things after Robert gets married, so it counts. Not to be spoilery, but that works out about as well as we’ve all probably come to expect from these two. Not even murder can keep them apart.)

Oh and stuff happens with Lachlan blah blah

ETA: THERE IS A BREAK UP THAT I OH-SO CASUALLY MISSED (it happened during the ‘Lachlan blah blah’ part of the episode), so here we have it - a hastily made edit for you all, because I am a big, strong, adult person and I can totally own up to my mistakes.* 

(*a bald-faced lie)

8. 1st January 2015

Lachlan’s in hospital and Robert is in some deep shit with Chrissie and Lawrence - mostly because he’s nowhere to be seen. On the other side of the village, Aaron and Robert are finishing up their literal tumble in the hay when Aaron casually asks Rob out for a pint. Robert chooses this exact moment to check his messages, sees what has happened and runs off to the hospital in a panic without even stopping to give Aaron an explanation.

While Rob is at the hospital being yelled at, Aaron goes to the pub by himself to mope. Rob shows up (having been kicked out of the hospital by Chrissie) and gets yelled at again, this time by Zak, who is worried about Belle. As Zak yells and Robert tries to defend the fact that he was too busy boning his secret boyfriend to babysit, Aaron quickly realises what exactly has happened. He and Robert meet in their favorite spot, the Woolie loos and Aaron tries to offer a sympathetic ear. Rob unfortunately has had just about enough and takes his frustrations and panic out on Aaron. They start to argue and Robert says that “whatever this is between us” (it’s love) is over. Surprising to zero people at this point, this turns out to not be true.

How long did it last? This is a pretty long one, as it happens. It lasts about a week. AN ENTIRE WEEK.

Who came crawling back first? It’s Robert, of course it’s Robert. The very next day, he goes to the pub and tries to get Aaron alone to talk about ~his investment~. It’s as if the words “we’re over” have literally no value when they’re coming out of Robert’s mouth and directed at Aaron, or something. Ah Robert, the world’s biggest drama queen. 

Aaron really isn’t having it, however. In fact, after Lachlan and Belle almost become the first (but absolutely not the last) casualty of Aaron and Robert’s affair, Aaron remembers that Robert Sugden’s numero uno priority is still Robert Sugden (don’t worry kids, that will change). Anyway, Aaron is getting freaked out - but then, it’s been a month since they’ve kissed and they’ve already started an entire actual Honest To God Affair, managed to break up 8 times and now they’ve almost killed a child. So. No bloody wonder.

(There is a small moment on the 2nd January between Aaron and Chas, as they talk about her unease at Robert’s suspiciously big investment - because of course, Chas doesn’t yet realise that Rob is actually basically investing that money in his Little Rob. Chas mentions to Aaron that Robert seems committed to investing in the business, like he’s Aarons “guardian angel” or something. Aaron gets this little interested look on his face and I have sudden and visceral flashforwards to the multiple times Robert will actually and actively save Aaron’s life in the next few years, and I cry.)

Anyway, Robert goes to find Aaron at work a few days later and tells him that Lachlan’s going to be ok. Rob looks all happy and keen to get it back on, but instead, he gets another earful from Aaron, who quite rightly assumes that Robert cares more about protecting his own secrets than he does Lachlan’s life.

Robert then decides to send the infamous “kiss and make up” text that ends up basically killing Katie. Imagine. Death by smarmy text. What a piss-take.

How little did they mean it? 1/5. Robert came crawling back the very next day and Aaron literally buckled after a stupid text. Like. From all appearances, they basically did kiss and make-up. We don’t even see them make up, they just share a Look as they walk past each other in the pub (but boy howdy, is it ever a good Look) and in that instant, we can all tell that they clearly just jumped straight back into it. Words have lost nearly all meaning at this point. They just like the drama.

9. 7th January 2015

Katie’s been gossiping about the “kiss and make up” text and Aaron drags Robert in to the Woolie back room to warn him. Robert, as is his wont, panics and sort of… calls the whole thing off… for now. Maybe Robert has finally learnt that there’s no point in trying to stop their relationship completely?

Either way, Aaron’s not happy about this sudden stop to their sexy times and as Rob walks out the door, he gets that sad/angry look on his face and I sort of just want to hug him because son, you are in way too deep considering how tragically closeted and technically unavailable Robert is.

On the other hand, hindsight is beautiful thing and it’s all going to work out mostly fine for most people in the end. Sort of. Apart from all the deaths. Oh well, it’s 2017 now, who cares. You keep being helplessly in love Aaron. I’m into it.

How long did it last? This ‘we’re strangers, we’re not meeting up and we’re absolutely not boning’ thing lasts exactly two days. Barely that, to be honest, because despite what Robert says, he still ends up having a conversation with Aaron about their affair in plain daylight, in public, the very next day. But hey. Whatever.

Who came crawling back first? Aaron tries to talk Robert round the next day and inadvertently gives Robert the idea for an Evil Plan, which Robert quickly puts into play so that they can get back to “business as usual” (as they agree while standing in the bathroom, while I cry over their sizzlin’ chemistry) (how can two people have that much sexual chemistry while standing in front of a toilet?)

How little did they mean it? 3/5. I mean, Robert meant it, but he also did everything he could to make sure that it would only last as long as he could go without (i.e. two days)

Honourable Mention #4: 12th January 2015

Aaron and Robert are back at it - or they would be, if not for the fact that Cain is basically dying and so Aaron’s all sad and distracted. Rob, in an effort to cheer Aaron up (because he cares and he has human feelings and he wants Aaron to be less sad and he cares), makes Aaron a cup of tea and calms his nerves and then, when that doesn’t work, grabs him and hugs him. Aaron’s confused and overwhelmed face is an exact mirror of my own every time I watch this beautiful scene. Is this really our panto villain Robert Sugden?

….this is obviously an honourable mention because before this scene, Rob tries to get Aaron to come up to the barn for a quickie and Aaron turns him down. So. Totally counts.

Honourable Mention #5: 13th January 2015

Aaron tries to back out of the business, because he’s panicking about letting Robert down and potentially losing him. Robert is all sweet and comforting and says to Aaron, and I quote, “Don’t get cold feet. You’ll make me think I fell for a quitter.” and Aaron looks so bloody astounded that I struggle to breathe. Then, if all of this wasn’t enough to send me to A&E, Robert smiles and says “Good meeting” and literally everyone has to take a moment to collect themselves because what. the. hell. is. this. SORRY IT’S BEEN OVER TWO YEARS AND I STILL CAN’T COPE WITH THIS SCENE. It’s just… it’s amazing. They’re gonna love each other forever.

..WHAT DO YOU MEAN STOP TALKING ABOUT THE CUTE SCENES YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT THE CUTE SCENES DID YOU THINK I JUST WOULDN’T MENTION THIS SCENE WHO DO YOU THINK I AM YES THIS COUNTS BECAUSE AARON TRIED TO PULL OUT OF THE BUSINESS IT COUNTS leave me alone I’m just a human

10. 30th January 2015

Aaron and Robert are just about as happy as two people can be whilst sneaking around behind everybody’s backs (hint: so happy, so loved-up, just utterly enjoying one another’s company, plus no one’s died yet… honestly, everything is hum diddly). Aaron and Adam have a new portacabin, which Robert comes to check out (oh wait, no, why would he check out a portacabin when he could be checking out Aaron). Robert books a hotel room with a late check-out and then crawls around the bed in his underwear. It’s all just great.

Amidst this happiness, Aaron is intermittently reminded, however, that Robert is actually still very much with Chrissie, so we get to watch Aaron lurk moodily around the background feeling sad and jealous and honestly, suddenly the Aaron in more recent episodes starts to feel so much more familiar… Poor love.

Anyway, the boys are preoccupied with their own dramas for a bit (Aaron’s dealing with the scrapyard and Eric. Robert is dealing with the fact that apparently, in Emmerdale, watching porn is, in fact, the worst damn crime you can commit). They’re most likely meeting up for more barn sex while all this is going on, but hey. It’s not shown on screen. All we’ve got is our imaginations. Aaron pops up to tease Robert about the porn and they flirt in the coffee shop, Robert books another hotel and Aaron gets himself into a suit. It all ends in tears, though, as Katie and Chrissie arrive at the hotel, ruining Robert and Aaron’s hot night and thus, the calm before the real storm comes to a startling, abrupt end.

The next morning, Robert tracks Aaron down at the scrapyard to apologise. Aaron’s having none of it, knowing that Robert is getting married in a week and that they can’t carry on beyond that, but desperately wanting so much more (…clearly these boys haven’t been paying attention if they honestly think they can stop, but… we’re not getting into that just yet, we’ve got months of this ahead of us…)

Robert looks sad, Aaron is pissed off, threatens Robert with a broken nose and says “do one”. Rob rightly takes this as a cue to not follow Aaron into the portacabin. This gets Robert angry, so he goes off to confront Katie (because she ruined his dirty night away with Aaron with all of her completely correct assumptions and now Aaron doesn’t want to talk to him).

How long did it last? While Rob is busy distracting himself with a spot of casual arson, Aaron ends up sitting with Paddy, sad about Robert and beating himself up about letting himself get in so deep. He ends up sort of accidentally telling Paddy that he’s in love with Robert (well, he doesn’t use Rob’s name). Aaron, in this scene, essentially says that he’s incapable of just walking away from the affair, so it’s nice that at least one of them has some level of self-awareness. After a few days, Aaron comes to the decision that he’s going to let Robert stew.

Meaning this particular break up lasts more than 2 days.

In very loose terms, it lasts 5 days. 5 days of them playing games with each other, at the ultimate expense of Katie’s life and a bit of flooring. 

In more realistic terms, this is the end of their relationship as they know it - this is, in fact, the break up that starts off a series of dramatic, tragic and unapologetically soapy events that will define their entire relationship for the next year.

Who came crawling back first? Robert drops in to see Aaron 3 days after their argument, but Aaron’s still having none of it. Rob leaves, sad and hurt and without a secret boyfriend. The next day, they bump into one another at the cafe and make some eyes at each other. Robert tells Aaron to meet him at their barn, which Aaron doesn’t do, so instead we get a shot of Robert sitting alone in their barn in the dark and looking Drama Queen levels of tragic.

Rob is… well, he’s onto Aaron and feeling kind of bitter about the whole thing, so when they meet up in the woolie bathroom later that day, Robert explains to Aaron that he’s had this Big Amazing Epiphany™ and that actually Aaron meant nothing to him and… nobody believes you tbh Rob, but you do you. As with all of Robert’s impulsive, emotional decisions, this has terrible consequences and pushes Aaron into deciding to blow the whole affair to Katie.

Literally the next day, Aaron asks them to start things up again (so that he can #Expose Robert to Katie) and Robert goes along with it pretty much immediately, ready to not just start things back up again, but also continue them after Robert is married. Because Robert has also long since realiseed that he’s not ready to let Aaron go and he’s done with the game playing. 

How little did they mean it? 1/5. Yes, it lasted a while, but Aaron stayed away with the pure intention of somehow getting Robert to leave Chrissie, and Robert ended things to get back at Aaron for standing him up. And… ah. This emotional game playing does not work out for them. This absolutely does not work well for them.

…I mean, it does work, in the sense that they’re together now, in 2017, but… oh dear.

Next Up: The Real Dark Ages

[xyzzymancy]

Risky ask #1!

1. “@” people you want to be friends with

aw hECK, okay.  as a clarification though, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable/pressured into anything by @ ing them.  it’s up to personal choice whether you want to befriend me or not!!  this also feels a little bit like a “even if we aren’t friends I still care about you” kind of post (and if I didn’t mention anyone, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you.)

under the cut because I don’t want to clutter the dashboard with blabbering.

@sketchyspectre Shticker, my cool dude!!  we met each other through a past community that I don’t interact with anymore, but while it isn’t entirely relevant, it gave me the pleasure of meeting you; I always looked up to you in the old community and you made it such a positive and fun space.  unfortunately, I never really got the chance to speak with you much once I left.  that’s okay, of course, but I hope we can talk again sometime.

@chizuu okay, you are probably one of my oldest mutuals on this site, if not the first mutual of mine, which holds a bit of a special meaning to it??  maybe that’s just me, but you’re like a friend despite not talking to you more than three times.  plus, from what I’ve seen, we share a similar taste in games too.  idk man!!  either way, you seem like a chill person (who has Good Content on their blog).

@mrcellophane I only recently started following you (after checking out your blog from a follow notification), but you seem really nice?  I have absolutely no idea how you found my main blog when I never make any original posts about batman stuff, but hey, no complaints!!  I’m honestly kind of curious about that; it surprised me.

@canadian-riddler alright, alright.  technically we’ve spoken a handful of times already, but I’m not sure on where we stand!!  I consider you a lowkey(?) friend, but everyone defines things differently.  either way, I really enjoy talking to you.  (and… not that this means much, but I’ve always appreciated the comments you leave on my art.  you’ve reblogged pretty much every scridds post I’ve made and that means a lot to me.)

@lordbunbun Oliver!!  you were another person I had the joy of meeting while I was in an old community.  while we’ve both separated ourselves from it(?), you were one of the people that made it so enjoyable and memorable to me.  it really felt like we held a lot of mutual care for one another, which generally feels rare and is really special.  we haven’t spoken quite as much recently (…beyond the occasional anon I’ve sent), but I genuinely miss the rare treat of talking to you.  I’d love to catch up with you sometime.

aaaand @ you, crococore.  I already consider you a friend, and as expressed in that one ask I replied to (in paragraph form, lmAO), I’m sorry we haven’t talked more.  please feel welcome to message me anytime.  it’s always been a joy to see you brighten someone’s day or even brighten my own.