#my parents have been running away from the thought of The Gender for years despite theoretically being out to them

[karnalesbian]

Ah fuck dude not like this. My day did not need to get worse in any way and certainly not this way man

[theamberfist]

Stinkin' Doctors | Grandma Susan + Reader

Familial! Grandma Susan + Grandchild Reader

Description: Rosie has implemented a new rule in Cannibal Town where everyone must attend yearly checkups at the doctors' to stay healthy. And lucky you: as Susan's grandchild, you get to be the one to drag her to hers.

(Notes: CW cannibalism, death, bad parents, creepy doctors) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Susan's grandchild from when she was alive)

Words: 3,721

"You're kidding." You breathed as you leaned over the desk of the beautiful cannibal overlord, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends. "Every year?" Rosie simply nodded as she signed off on a few of the papers in front of her. The emporium hadn't even opened yet, but after receiving her call that morning, you'd rushed over in what was definitely not a panic to speak with her. 

"I need everyone in Cannibal Town to stay healthy, darling," she explained for the second time, "These appointments are just extra precaution; everyone will have them." You swallowed. That may have been true, but everyone wasn't your grandmother. 

"I get that," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, "But how am I supposed to get Grams to agree to that? We couldn't even convince her to see a doctor when she was on her death bed in life!" Rosie knew better than anyone just how stubborn your grandma could be, but she also knew that if there was one person who could get past her prickly nature to convince her, it was you.

"I know you can do it." She said with a reassuring smile now, "Even the meanest old lady's gotta listen to her grandchild sometimes; especially if they're as darling as you!" She reached up to pinch your cheek, which promptly grew slightly red from embarrassment. Your parents hadn't ended up in hell, which you had thought made your grandmother the only family you really had down here, but it was at times like this when you  realized that might not be so true. 

"Fine." You sighed, pushing away from the desk, "But don't have too much faith in me! Grams hates doctors." Rosie giggled as you headed for the door, already trying to come up with a way to break the news to your grandma. 

"Thank you!" She called genuinely as you left the emporium. She'd make it up to you later; maybe with a nicely cooked meal for your troubles. After all, if worst came to worst, Susan would listen to her if no one else, but she had confidence that as Cannibal Town's designated Susan-Wrangler, you could get her to her appointment on your own- and that it would be quite an entertaining process. 

..........

"Where are we goin'?" Susan asked for what was probably the seventh time in the last ten minutes as you lead her by the arm down the street. "First ya show up to my place uninvited, and then ya drag me out before the sun's even up without telling me why!" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

"It's afternoon, Grandma," You calmly told her. Rosie had carefully made her appointment time a later one since she knew the old woman would pitch a fit at having been woken up early. "And we don't exactly have a proper sun here, anyway." 

"There ya go now, back talkin' me!" Susan spat, though she didn't let go of your arm, "Kids these days with their poor attitudes!" 

You sighed, putting on a bright smile as the two of you passed some familiar faces on the street. They waved and you returned the gesture in an attempt to keep some sort of positive relationship with the other cannibals; despite the old woman on your arm. 

"Sorry, Grandma." You replied finally, "But to answer your question; we're going to see the doctor, like I told you earlier." Of course, Susan hadn't exactly been listening when you'd mentioned that; picking the opportune moment of her meticulously choosing her parasol for the day to offhandedly explain it. 

She stopped in her tracks now; a flicker of fear hitting her eyes before she let go of you and crossed her arms over her chest with a defiant expression. 

"Like hell we are!" She snarled, "I don't needa see no filthy doctor!" You sighed; this had been the difficult part you'd anticipated. Well, one of them, anyway. 

"Grandma, it's okay," You tried to assure her, reaching for her elbow even as she began to shuffle away, "It's just a checkup; Rosie scheduled it for us." 

"I don't need anyone checking up anything of mine!" Susan shouted and you winced at how bad that sentence sounded, "Especially no stinkin' doctor!" Ignoring the fact that she'd literally been married to a 'stinkin' doctor' once while alive, you tried to remain patient. 

"It's just to make sure you're healthy and that nothing's wrong that we don't know about," you explained carefully, "Rosie's having everyone do it once a year now to keep us safer." Seeing that she still wouldn't budge, you took a step forward before adding, "And I'll be there the whole time, okay?"

Susan neither agreed nor disagreed but allowed you to gently take her arm once again and continue leading her down the street. Of course, that didn't come without its share of complaints either. 

"A checkup," she repeated more to herself than anything, "A damn checkup! What a stupid idea; everyone knows ya only go to the doctor if you're fucking sick!" You weren't sure whether she meant 'sick' as in a physical or mental illness, but when it came to your grandmother, it was best not to guess. She turned her gaze to you now as the two of you kept walking. "And I ain't sick!" 

"I know, Grandma," You replied, "That'll make the appointment even shorter, then!" Your words seemed to do little to comfort her though, because she continued muttering about how stupid this all was and how 'that filthy doctor would be lucky if she didn't bite his arm off when he got close' all the way to the clinic. 

Finally, you arrived and managed to drag Susan through the door despite her shouts of protest. You knew her anger wasn't directed towards you, though, but rather the situation itself. 

It was hard to tell, and if you weren't paying close attention you really could miss it, but she was nicer to you than anybody else in hell. Sure, she still made demeaning remarks and yelled at you often, but when it came down to it, you were her grandchild; the only thing her own kid had ever given her besides a headache, she'd once said. 

Now inside, you brought your grandma up to the counter even as she resisted your gentle pull of her arm. 

"Hi," you smiled brightly at the receptionist, whose eyes widened at the sight of the old woman beside you. Susan was extremely well-known throughout Cannibal Town, and sometime before you'd ended up in hell, had managed to gain the respect of nearly all its residents. You couldn't exactly blame them, though; underneath it all, you greatly respected her too.

It was her who'd stepped up to raise you in life when your parents had turned out to be bums, after all; taking responsibility for what her own child wouldn't. 

"Hello," the receptionist, whose black eyes matched everyone else in the cannibal colony, managed to regain her composure now, "Do you have an appointment?" 

"No, we came here to snack on some organ donations." Susan said sarcastically; a joke that would have landed better, if not for the surgical center being located in the same building. 

"Yes." You replied quickly, trying to sidestep your grandmother's rudeness. You'd long since given up on trying to get her to be any more polite than that; especially in a situation like this where she already didn't want to be here. 

The receptionist nodded before grabbing a clipboard with a small packet of paper attached. "Please fill this out and have a seat." You took the clipboard form her with a nod and then dragged Susan over to a set of chairs as far from the rest of the waiting room as you could possibly get. 

Once you were seated, you held the clipboard out to the old woman. "Now they're givin' homework; just great." She grumbled but took it anyway. 

"They just want to know your health history so they can properly treat you." You explained.

"And how is that any of their business?" Susan replied as she looked down at the paper. She squinted as you waited patiently for her fill it out. A second later, she dropped the clipboard on her lap with an irritated grumble. "They made the damn words too small!" She exclaimed as she crossed her arms, "I can't even see 'em." 

You sighed, taking the clipboard from her and looking it over. "They want you to sign your name here," you pointed to an empty line as you handed the pen back to her expectantly. She grumbled some more but did as you said, nonetheless. "And then here's a list of ailments. They want you to check the ones that affect you." 

"None; I ain't sick!" Susan exclaimed. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes once again and left the boxes blank. "The next questions are about your after-lifestyle," you explained, "They want to know how often you smoke, whether or not you drink; stuff like that." 

"Never." Your grandma said with a huff but you narrowed your eyes at her. Having seen both her smoking and drinking habits since ending up in hell, you knew that was a blatant lie. "Fine." She practically spat, "Twice a week." You nodded but checked the box labeled 'most days' instead. It was a more accurate representation of how she lived, anyway. 

You struggled through the health history questions next. Since your grandmother had rarely ever been to the doctors' even in life, she'd never exactly been diagnosed with anything, and claimed that therefore meant she'd been perfectly healthy, despite having died to one of her unknown ailments because she refused to get it checked in the first place. 

Finally, the paperwork was finished and you brought it over to the receptionist, who told you they'd call you back when they were ready. As you made your way back to the waiting area, you could hear Susan still grumbling rather loudly. 

"We better not be payin' for this shit." She threatened as you shook your head.

"We aren't, Grandma. It's part of Rosie's new program." You were well aware of the fact that the old woman didn't exactly stay up to date on current events but she nodded as if she knew what that meant anyway.

After a few minutes, you managed to tune out her muttering as you brought out a book to read while you waited. You knew better than to use a phone within the sight of your grandma, and this way, she wouldn't be able to complain about 'youth's these days' and how things had been better back when she was young. 

You were met with a few, brief moments of peace before she suddenly nudged you in the shoulder, causing you to look up from your book. "What is it?" You asked, noticing her expression was even more venomous than usual. She pointed at the receptionist's desk.

"Look at them," she said under her breath, "the nerve of some people." You held back a comment about her own nerve as you looked to the direction in which she was pointing, where a man sinner you assumed to be the doctor based on his white coat was chatting with the receptionist. He was leaning over her desk, both elbows resting on the wood as he propped his face up with his hands. 

"What?" You asked, turning back to your grandmother, "They're just talking." Though, the scene progressed a moment later as the doctor leaned in and planted a kiss on the receptionist's lips; gazing at her with lovesickness in his black eyes. 

Susan practically growled beside you and it was only then that you remembered the story of what had happened between her and your grandpa; the doctor. You'd never met the man in life but it seemed that past betrayal was setting her off now. 

"Stinkin' doctors..." She mumbled, grabbing a magazine from the table nearby in order to seem less interested in the situation than she was.

"Maybe they're a couple." You suggested, noticing the doctor wore a wedding ring on his left hand, "It's normal for them to kiss." Susan's eyes were practically shot daggers as she looked towards the name tag on the woman's desk, which had a different last name than the one on the doctor's name tag. 

"Maybe they kept their separate last names." You said with a shrug before going back to your book, "Either way, it's really none of our business." Your grandmother just glared down at her magazine.

"The nerve of some people..."

It wasn't until ten minutes later that Susan's name was finally called by the receptionist now that they were ready for her. The doctor was still waiting by the desk but gave you a warm smile as you stood from your chair and took your grandmother's arm once again. She seemed even less enthusiastic about this appointment than before, if that was even possible, but only presented minimal struggling as you dragged her to the hallway door. 

Behind you, someone else entered the clinic but you couldn't be bothered to care who it was; your first priority being to get your grandma to her checkup. You glanced back at the doctor, who waved you off.

"Room 3," he said, "I'll be with you in just a moment." And with that, he turned back to the desk, where another woman sinner was now standing with what looked like a cutely decorated lunchbox in hand. 

Finally, you dragged Susan through the doors, ignoring her keen interest in the group as you made your way to the room. It took nearly all your strength to get her inside, but eventually, the two of you sat on the patient's bed together with the examination room's door closed as you awaited the doctor. 

"If that fuckin' prick comes at me with a needle I'm biting his ear off." Your Grandma spat beside you.

"You're not supposed to get a shot today, so it should be fine, Grams." You told her with a sigh. You were beginning to run low on patience for the old woman by now, so it was a good thing the appointment would start soon. 

"You know the asshole's cheating on his wife?" Susan said suddenly, a scary glow in her eyes that made you shiver. 

"How do you know that?" You asked, knowing she was referring to the doctor. 

"You saw him getting hot and heavy with that receptionist!" Susan replied as if it were obvious, "But his actual wife just came in and brought him lunch. She had a ring and everything." She shook her head, "The nerve..." 

You weren't sure what to say about that, knowing your grandmother's personal stake in the matter. You supposed that was why the following words left your mouth.

"What was in the lunch?" 

Susan gave you a luck that warned against testing her like this but she answered your question anyway. "Skewered eyeballs." She replied, "And freshly baked fingers. She musta worked on those all mornin' just for that fucker to turn around and get with someone else." You sighed.

"That's too bad." What else were you supposed to say? You had enough on your plate already just from trying not to let your grandma run right out of the clinic. 

The rest of your time waiting for the doctor was spent in silence until he finally knocked on the door and both you and Susan stiffened as he entered. 

"Sorry about the wait!" The cannibal doctor exclaimed as he pulled up a rolling stool, "Now, Susan, I understand this is your first checkup with us?" 

"That's Miss Susan to you." The old woman replied and the doctor's smile faltered just a bit.

"Right..." he replied, glancing at you. You offered nothing more than a shrug so he turned back to his clipboard, "It looks like for your medical history you just wrote 'fuck you, you filthy doctor.' Can you tell me more about that?" Susan opened her mouth to speak, glad to have the chance to rip into the other sinner, but you quickly interjected.

"She didn't really go to the doctor much when we were alive," You explained, "So we weren't sure of any formal diagnoses." 

"Okay." The man replied as he noted that down, "And may I ask who you are?" There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes as he did so but you ignored it.

"Her grandkid," you told him simply. Although you'd opted to ignore the man's clear interest in you, it seemed Susan had chosen a different route. 

"So stop eyein' em up, buster!" She exclaimed. The doctor ignored her though; not focused on you. 

"It was very kind of you to take her to her appointment like this," he commented, making you feel slightly less comfortable in the room. 

"It's not a big deal..." You replied awkwardly before clearing your throat, "Now could we maybe hurry this along? Grams isn't fond of appointments like this." 

"Of course," The doctor replied, flashing his sharp white teeth at you, "I promise your grandmother will receive the best care we can give her." That seemed to finally be enough for Susan because she suddenly shouted.

"Oh yeah? How do we know you aren't gonna break that promise like ya did to your wife!" 

Silence filled the room then as the man's gaze turned to her; his eyes wide at having been caught in the act. "Now quit chatting up my grandkid and get on with it!" Susan continued, gesturing for him to hurry up, "Or am I gonna have to rip off one of your arms too?" 

The doctors swallowed harshly before nodding and getting on with his duties. The rest of the appointment was filled with awkward silence, aside from Susan's occasional rude comments. Once everything was done, the doctor informed you that your grandmother was completely healthy and then handed you a note to give Rosie as confirmation that the appointment had been successful. 

With that, he saw you into the waiting room where the receptionist scheduled the next year's appointment and you were finally done. Susan had become significantly less frustrated with being in a doctor's office after dropping that bombshell earlier but at this point you were too tired and hungry to care.  

You lead her by the arm back to the street now, only to nearly bump into a sinner you hadn't seen before the second you reached the sidewalk. Slightly disoriented, you were already bracing yourself for the string of curses that would inevitably leave your Grandmother's lips from the nerve of whoever it was that hadn't been watching where they were going.

However, to your surprise, she didn't say anything at all. Instead, she looked up at the sinner, whom you just now realized happened to be the woman you'd seen in the clinic earlier. 

A satisfied expression made its way onto Susan's face and you knew what she was going to say before she even spoke. 

"Your husband's cheating on you." The old woman said matter-of-factly, "A filthy doctor and an ugly receptionist; what a pair!" The woman's eyes widened but Susan just pulled you along before she could reply and soon enough you were far enough away that you could no longer hear her screams of anger and confusion. 

It was at this point that you gave up trying to control your grandmother. The cat was already out of the bag, and if you were being honest, the woman being cheated on had had a right to know the truth. Susan seemed very pleased with herself now; maybe because she gained some sense of fulfillment from her actions that she hadn't received in life when she found herself in a similar position. 

"Grandma," you finally said once the two of you were only a few blocks from her home, "I'm...Sorry about what Grandpa did to you." 

She froze. It was a topic the two of you had never discussed before; you'd always been too afraid of her anger to bring it up, but after being confronted with a similar situation today, it felt like the right time. 

Finally, the old woman seemed to regain her composure because she kept walking. "Don't call him that," she said, though there was no anger in her tone, only...sadness? "Ya never even met the asshole." You shrugged.

"But he still hurt you." You said, "That's what-"

"-Your parents told you, yeah yeah." Susan replied, waving your concern off, "Sure he did, but he was a hell of a lot smarter than that doctor." She pointed in the direction of the clinic, "That's why when I caught him cheating on me I ate them both."

...And the touching moment had been destroyed. You chuckled, though, knowing the only reason your grandmother had been so opposed to visiting the doctor was because it reminded her of her ex-husband. Though, it seemed she'd been able to work through some of those feelings today by ensuring another couple discovered the ruins of their own marriage. 

"Does this mean next year you'll be okay going to your appointment again?" You asked hopefully now that the two of you had reached the gates outside of your grandmother's house.

"Don't push it." She replied, letting go of your arm and heading for the house without so much as a goodbye. You shook your head, knowing she still cared for you regardless of how often she showed it. That much had been clear when she went off on the doctor for your sake but also refrained from murdering him for your sake. 

You were about to turn and head to your own home for the night when a familiar voice called out to you. You looked back to see Susan standing on her porch holding the her front door open. 

"Ya look like ya haven't eaten in a month!" She said with a scowl, "How's about you come inside for a proper meal?" A smile made its way onto your lips at that and you nodded, turning around to head for the house. Susan kept the door open, allowing you to enter as she hid her delight behind her usual resting-bitch-face. 

Though, as you spoke again, her lips couldn't help but curve upwards just slightly. 

"Thanks, Grandma."

[yanderes-galore]

Madness combat Romantic concept

Fem!White Hank and Fem!Darling, who is 2bdamned's clone.

This idea has been in my head for almost a year, but now I have decided to request it.

2bdamned created her as as a backup plan in case he dies(and so that the reader can then get him out of purgatory).

But, she run away from Status Quo and her creator, as 2bdamned did with AAHW.

And during her wanderings, she met Wank, which is Hank's clone, of course.

Now it's 2 female clones against the whole of Nevada.

Oh... this is actually a neat thought- Here you go! Gotta love some more WLW content.... 💜 Like in the request, you are indeed both clones. Sorry for the wait! I started this months ago and only continued it recently.

Hank = Original Hank

Hank = White Hank

Some older White Hank content

Yandere! Fem! White Hank with Fem! 2BDamned Clone! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Violence, Murder, Blood, Stalking, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Clone shenanigans, Clingy behavior, Delusional behavior, Dubious/Implied forced relationship.

I like to think you ran off as some sort of rebellious phase from your creator, 2B.

Although... since he did something similar, you probably were just following something instinctual deep within you.

You aren't an exact clone, hence the different gender, but you are made from his DNA nonetheless.

When you ran away you worked on making yourself look different from your creator.

You wanted to be your own person... so you began living your life surviving in Nevada.

Which eventually makes you catch sight of White Hank... another rogue clone, but from Hank.

It's funny how you two were brought together.

It was similar to your creators.

Hank probably first thought you were a threat.

You panicked for a moment when Hank tackled you,

Although... it seems the memories of both of you made you hesitate.

Hank probably had a flash of 2B in her mind, causing her to back off in confusion.

You probably had a flashback of Hank which caused you to pause.

As clones, you have some memories of your creators due to the DNA.

So... despite the blood covering Hank's clothes from her previous scuffle, she tries to be friendly instead.

I like to imagine the obsession starts due to her memories.

Deep in her she knows she should be fond of you/trust you.

Yet due to Hank's DNA, she's also incredibly violent and unpredictable.

So she acts very similar to a yandere Hank due to her being a clone.

You have a body guard who stalks and slaughters anyone who gets too close.

She doesn't stay completely out of the way like Hank.

There's times it seems like she's left you, only to show up later.

She probably doesn't leave your side much as you're essentially the female versions of Hank and 2B.

You have medical knowledge like 2B and patch her up when she needs it.

You also have some combat skills.

I imagine she's naturally clingy with you due to the "parent" DNA you both have.

Befriending Hank seems to be a good idea in your eyes.

After all, she's a skilled killer like Hank.

Even if she seems a bit obsessive about you.

You see her as an ally and bodyguard.

Meanwhile, she probably sees you as some sort of romantic interest... it's hard to tell.

I say it's hard to tell since she seems awfully focused on violence.

Although... in the downtime, she sticks close.

You could be resting and while she keeps watch she pulls you against her.

Just two girl clones surviving the badlands of Nevada together.

One just so happens to be violently obsessed with the other.

I imagine 2B is trying to track you, only to groan in annoyance when he catches footage of you with another failed clone.

Failed because Hank was never all that... obedient.

Hank wasn't either, he should really alter the way he does things....

Hank wouldn't let you go back to 2B.

Far as she's concerned, you're finders keepers.

If you ran away from 2B, there's no need to send you back.

You can stay with her.

To Hank, you're girlfriends at this point.

As time ticks on, she only seems to grow closer.

She'd probably throw hands with the original 2B and Hank to keep you to herself.

If you said you weren't interested in a romantic relationship with Hank, she probably wouldn't believe you.

In her eyes you two are already dating.

Why are you fighting it?

Are you being influenced by someone?

Is your old creator making you say such a thing?

That's okay... you can ignore such an order!

Even if you try to run from her, she'll follow.

No need to kidnap if she's around you all the time... watching... waiting.

You'll see you two are meant to be...

Even if she has to execute all who say otherwise.

[cheeriecherrymain]

Springtime On The Moor [Chapter 3]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort Proofread: No lol Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes @feeiry Chapter Summary: You and Viktor finally have an actual conversation with each other, revealing family secrets and deciding what to do about your future together.

You watch as the maid exits the room quickly, straightening her apron as she goes. Part of you feels bad for demanding she control her temper in the way you did - you could have spoken less harshly, you think, and tried to reason with her.

Instead of insinuating that she owed you respect because you’re her employer.

Your father had always taught you to be kind to the working class, growing up. Explained to you that no one person was inherently worth more than another, and that everyone was just trying to make their way through life and do the best they could.

Maybe she was just having a bad day, you think, slouching back into your chair, worry beginning to creep up in the back of your mind.

What would Viktor think of you, after such a show?

Would he think you a temperamental woman? Too fiery and loud to make a good wife? Would he think you were overbearing, or classist? Or would he-

“Why did you redirect her anger like that?” Viktor asks. His voice is thankfully quiet, and you can’t detect any kind of malice or ill intent. He just sounds curious.

You peek up at him from behind your lashes, and push yourself to sit up straighter.

“I’m your wife,” you explain softly. “Matters of the home fall onto my shoulders. That includes…asking the staff to be kinder.”

You watch as his features pinch together ever so slightly, drawing into the faintest frown you’ve ever seen. The corners of his lips quirked downwards, pressed into a straight line.

“I wasn’t aware our duties varied based on gender,” he admits. “I thought marriage was meant to be a partnership?”

You’re well and truly shocked by his assumption.

Nothing in his posture says he’s being facetious or dishonest, so…what kind of rock has your husband been living under, to not understand the most basic of social systems? Even those who didn’t participate in the kinds of interpersonal games that you did, were still aware of how unions worked.

Understood what kinds of roles everyone was meant to play.

There were, of course, some special exceptions. Your father, for example: a widower of many years, now. He hadn’t grown up knowing all the work it took to run a home. Your mother had shared everything with him, all her decisions and the goings on of the day - he had been forced to play the role of both parents to you and your siblings.

But that was a very special circumstance.

Your husband, on the other hand, just seemed…oblivious.

“Viktor,” you begin, somewhat hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed without offending him in some manner. “Did your parents never teach you about any of this? About what to expect from a marriage?”

You try your best to stay as outwardly kind as you can, knowing that one small slip in tone or posture could push him away from you, and cause him to clam up. He already seemed so reserved and unwilling to socialize, and you don’t want to undo whatever progress you may have made.

But despite your best efforts, you still watch as discomfort makes its way into his expression. The slight tense of his shoulders, and the way in which he so casually avoids eye contact.

“I just want to know where I should start explaining, that’s all,” you tell him, honestly. “You’re not going to face any judgment from me, not for this, and least of all for not knowing something in general.”

You’re still, as his gaze travels over you. Looking for any sign of deceit, anything that might hint to him that you’re trying to set him up for…for something unpleasant.

A joke, you wonder, or maybe just to ridicule him in general?

You would never.

But he doesn’t know that.

Finally, he relaxes in the slightest, mirroring your form to slouch back in his seat.

“You’re aware that I’m adopted, yes?” he asks, and when you give a brief nod of confirmation, he continues. “I am the youngest of six, and I don’t share blood with any of my siblings. When my parents were no longer able to have children of their own, they plucked me out of an orphanage in an attempt to raise one last baby.”

You can feel the surprise stretch across your face, loud and prominent. Had he really been taken in so young? With how your father had spoken of him, and described him as a boy, you’d assumed that he’d been brought home around nine or ten.

But as an infant?

Where did he learn his mannerisms, then?

“We -meaning my siblings and myself- had all assumed that I wouldn’t end up with any kind of claim to the family fortune,” he explains, chewing on the edge of his thumb nail. “Even from a young age, they would not pass up a chance to remind me of my place - I was the outsider, and I had no business trying to continue our parents’ legacy.”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. 

“But you share a surname, don’t you?” you wonder.

Viktor nods to your question.

“We do,” he confirms. “But that hardly matters. Not when the purity of the bloodline is in question.”

Your heart sinks slightly, knowing he must have felt incredibly lonely growing up. Having a family, and being loved by his parents, but otherwise ostracized by the people his own age. Never being allowed to expect the same treatment as his siblings, as if his background made him somehow less.

You watch as he reaches for a bottle of wine that’s been set out on the table, reading the label for a brief moment before uncorking it with a soft pop.

He fills his glass a little more than you would consider polite, but then, you couldn’t really fault him for it, could you? Especially not when he gestures towards your own goblet at the last minute, as if he’s just remembered that you might like some, too.

He’s trying.

You slide the glass towards him, and wave him off when you’ve got a sufficient amount of red nectar - a little more than you’d usually indulge in, but with dinner on the way and a heavy conversation in your midst, you feel as though you’re entitled to it.

“At least,” he finally resumes, swirling the wine around in his cup, “that was what I had thought.”

He takes a sip, and reclines back in his chair again.

“We were of the mind that my brothers would take over the business when my parents either passed or retired, and my sisters would run the estate once they were married,” he goes on. “We assumed that I would be permitted to stay in the manor as long as I pleased, as part of the inheritance conditions. All of us were happy with that outcome. The business has never been in any of my interests.”

He takes another mouthful of drink, his expression pulling into one of frustration.

“Imagine my surprise, upon finding out that my parents willed everything to me.”

He doesn’t sound angry about the situation he’d been given - not really. Fed up, perhaps, and like he had never expected his life could go the way it has.

It makes you sad, the more you think about it. Imagining your husband as a little boy, tormented by the people who he was meant to call family, never allowed to believe that he could be more than their words, or achieve anything. Not even allowed to dream.

And now, forced to marry someone he didn’t know - someone he probably had no desire to know.

“I’m…sure your brothers and sisters were not so pleased?” you suggest, earning dry laugh from your husband.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” he scoffs. “They were outraged. Even when I told them that I had no idea I was in the will - told them that I would be happy to hand over everything they’d been previously promised! All I wanted was a place I could continue working.”

You finally take a sip of the wine in your hand, listening intently to the sweet aftertaste of cherry.

“But there was no reasoning with them,” he laments, his tone growing somber. “They were scorned, and they blamed me. I knew that if I gave them anything, they…would have taken everything. I would have lost years of work - my home, any semblance of a future. Even now, they still…”

Your eyes remain trained on him, following as he stoops forward to lean his elbows on the table, pressing the tips of his fingers into his temples to rub slow circles. 

A very well-practiced motion, you realize.

“My siblings have done everything in their power to drive my life into ruin. I have never been one to care for my social reputation, but…the rumours. Their threats, scaring away most of the staff employed by the estate.”

He finally looks over to you, his eyes wide with a forlorn sense of sadness.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the garden. There’s no one in town who is willing to risk their social life to care for it, so it’s fallen to ruin. I would do it myself, but…” He gestures down towards his leg - out of your line of sight, but you know that he’s pointing towards the shiny metal brace that you’ve never seen him out of.

Of course he’d love the place he’d grown up. Of course he’d want to take care of it. You’re furious with yourself for ever thinking he might have just been a careless man, unconcerned with what other people thought of him.

In truth, he cares quite a bit.

And how frustrating it must be, you think, to see something so beloved falling to ruin around you, unable to do anything to stop it. To have people actively working against you, counting and praying on your downfall.

You quietly drum your fingers on the table.

You can feel Viktor’s eyes on you, questioning and curious - and you can tell that he knows you’re thinking. 

“Has your business been impacted by any of this?” you ask.

Suddenly enough that he hesitates a moment before replying.

“The family business has taken a loss-”

“No, no,” you interrupt with a wave, taking another sip of wine. “I mean your business. The deal you have with Mr. Talis. HexTech, if I’m correct?”

His jaw slackens when you reveal that you know about that. And in truth, it had required quite a bit of digging around and asking questions: you’d been far too curious about the mysterious man who’d appeared out of the darkness to ask for your hand.

He was difficult to find a trace of, you know, always careful to cover up his tracks and make sure no one saw his face or knew his name.

You would have thought him shady, were the HexTech company not so well-known.

“…not thus far, I don’t think,” Viktor finally replies.” My participation in our projects is not typically brought up when speaking to sponsors - Jayce does all the networking, and we do the rest together.”

You drum your fingers on the table some more.

“Your siblings will try, then,” you tell him, bluntly.

Worry falls over him when he figures out what you’re implying: that the people he once called family were ruthless in their endeavors, and would stop at nothing to see him brought to his knees. That they would be willing to ruin anyone’s lives to do it.

Even when they discovered his association and partnership with Mr.Talis, they would simply seek to tear him down, too.

“They have been successful in bringing you to ruin thus far,” you tell him, “No one wants to work for you, save the select few you have employed - but nowhere near enough people to keep up with the work that a house demands. Your estate is in shambles, and your name is so tarnished that the people I considered close friends didn’t show up to our wedding.”

He peers over at you, guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, and you cut him off with a wave.

“Don’t be,” you sigh, taking another sip of your drink. “I will admit that I was upset about it yesterday, but…knowing that very little of your reputation has been your choice has calmed me down a bit.”

You smile at him, sweet yet mischievous.

“I’ve a proposition for you, husband. Something that will benefit both of us.”

Viktor raises a brow, intrigued, and gestures for you to continue.

Your smirk widens.

“I suggest revenge.”

His face falls a fraction, but before he can say anything, you speak over him.

“I’m not suggesting bodily harm. I’m not suggesting any kind of like-minded retaliation, either,” you promise, easing some of his tension. “ I’m well versed in social politics. Quite frankly, I find it entertaining and invigorating - and I enjoy getting to dress up on special occasions. It wouldn’t take a lot of prodding among my typical circle to get your name bouncing around.”

You take the last mouthful of your wine, and set the goblet down on the table.

“ A couple of kind words here and there. Everyone knows that you…lack social prowess, so any word of mine would be considered an absolute truth. I’m your wife, after all - and I’m meant to know you in ways that are far more intimate than your siblings ever would.”

You don’t miss the way he fidgets in his seat at your choice of words, nor the way pink begins to blossom across the tops of his cheeks. His awkwardness is honestly quite charming, in your opinion, if not slightly frustrating.

Frustrating, because how easily does he manage to catch your interest.

“All I’d have to do would be to let slip a few things that directly contradict the rumours spreading around, to the right people,” you finish, proudly knitting your fingers together to set them in your lap.

Unsurprisingly, though, Viktor seems unconvinced.

“Do you really think that all the damage done is so easy to fix?” he wonders, almost incredulous. “Talk to a couple of your friends and let them gossip?”

“No,” you admit. “I don’t. But we don’t need to convince anyone, Viktor. We just need to make them doubt. Doubt your siblings, doubt what they’ve heard. Once people start questioning, they’ll be willing to look a little closer, and be a little closer.”

Finally, finally, he seems to understand what you’re saying.

“What would make someone angrier than thriving, despite their attempts to assure otherwise?” you ask, of no one in particular.

Your husband smiles then, and not just a small quirk of the lip. A genuine smile, laden fully with the same sort of mischief that you have. A giddy, almost playful edge to it, and…something you can’t quite decipher. A sense of longing, perhaps - hope?

“You’ve thought this out very thoroughly,” he says, “and yet you’ve only been here a day.”

“Well, it’s not just your life anymore, now is it?” you tell him, matter-of-factly. “It’s our life. Our name, our home, our reputation. And neither of us deserve to be treated so poorly.”

There’s more you want to say to him - more conversation to be had about how to improve your lives and where to start, how to fix the garden. Your entire plan, really, as unfinished as it is.

Were it not for the servants’ door flinging open, startling the two of you away from each other.

The kitchen staff begin pouring in with dishes of food, setting them out around the table so you might choose what you’d like to eat - much of it which you’d never seen before, spices you’d never smelled, colours you’d never eaten.

Viktor promises you later that you’ll speak on the matter tomorrow, after you’ve both had some time to rest - claiming he still had some work he’d yet to finish that evening, and that he didn’t want to be late on its completion.

You’ve half a mind to ask him to stay with you: to ask him to spend the night with you, as a husband was meant to - even if it just meant sleeping together in the same bed. But with his beliefs and general awkwardness…you know even suggesting something like that would make him retreat back into his shell.

You’ll just have to work on refining your plans for the manor, and hope they would be enough to impress him.

[coochiequeens]

“A trans-identified pedophile in Scotland used an alias to gain entry into a domestic violence shelter housing vulnerable women and children, where he was allowed to stay for 71 days before being removed”. Kill this guy and the officials who passed laws that allowed this to happen

A trans-identified pedophile in Scotland used an alias to gain entry into a domestic violence shelter housing vulnerable women and children, where he was allowed to stay for 71 days before being removed. Katie Dolatowski, 22, is a registered sex offender for crimes involving young girls, yet was permitted to reside at the Leeds Women’s Aid Refuge.

Dolatowski provided official documentation supporting a new identity, which he used to deceive staff at the women’s shelter. Dolatowski was accommodated in a section of the refuge which houses people who identify as transgender, but it had some shared resources and spaces with the main women’s area.

Dolatowski has a disturbing history of sex attacks on young girls in public facilities. In 2018, he was discovered secretly filming a 12-year-old girl in a women’s bathroom at an Asda supermarket in Fife, Scotland. 

The child was using a restroom cubicle and in a state of partial undress when she spotted Dolatowski recording her by holding his phone over the stall. The girl cried out for help and ran away. The supermarket’s CCTV footage was used to identify Dolatowski, and upon further investigation, 12 seconds of film of the girl were found on his mobile phone and iPad.

The following month, Dolatowski targeted another young girl for sexual assault in the restroom of a Morrisons supermarket in Kircaldy, Fife. He grabbed a 10-year-old girl by the face and pushed her into a cubicle, ordering the child to remove her pants. During the assault, Dolatowski also threatened to murder the child’s mother in an attempt to frighten her into compliance. However, the young girl struck out in self-defense, landing some blows against Dolatowski, and was able to break free and run for her parents.

Despite his two attacks on children, Dolatowski was handed a three-year community order in lieu of a prison sentence. He was also banned from having contact with children, placed on the sex offenders registry, and ordered to complete community service.

Upon learning of Dolatowski’s disturbing history, management at Leeds Women’s Aid had him removed from the premises. Chief Executive Nik Peasgood told The Sun: “We are appalled that someone with such crimes could come to a women’s refuge using a different identity. We are aware a criminal using authenticated identification could access any housing provider’s services and we are not unique in being manipulated in this way.”

Farah Nazeer, also a chief executive at the shelter, added, “This situation is a priority for us, alongside supporting our federation of local domestic abuse services.”

A mother of three and a resident at the refuge told The Sun that the situation frightened her and made her fear for the safety of her children. “It’s horrific. As a victim of sexual abuse myself, the whole thing is triggering. I came here with my kids because I thought it was a safe place and to find out there was a pedophile living a few doors away for months is just horrendous.”

As previously reported by Reduxx, Dolatowski, who stands nearly 6’5, was ousted from a public housing estate on the night of October 19 after enraged neighbors became aware of his past crimes. A crowd gathered outside of the property, demanding his expulsion. A phone recording taken by a bystander shows a large number of police officers present, removing Dolatowski and unidentified others from the residence.

This is not the first instance of Dolatowski being granted access to a women’s shelter. 

In February of 2019, the Courier revealed that Dolatowski, who was homeless at the time, had been housed in a hostel for female offenders on the basis of his self-declared gender identity. This was permitted despite the fact that Dolatowski did not have a Gender Recognition Certificate (GRC), a legal document that establishes a change to one’s name and birth sex on their identification.

One woman who was residing in the unit for homeless offenders told The Courier: “This is a women’s hostel and it’s all women who work here. I feel sick and can’t stop thinking about what he has done.” 

An editorial decision was made in the news article to alter the woman’s wording by using the feminine pronoun “she” in place of “he.”

At the time, a spokeswoman for Women and Girls in Scotland noted that accomodating males in certain female-only spaces, such as prisons and crisis shelters, can be triggering for the vulnerable women residing there.

“Female offenders are very likely to have experienced male violence and/or abuse, and many suffer from conditions such as PTSD. As such, the presence of males in spaces where they are vulnerable could understandably be very distressing for these women, and for many the presence of a male sex offender will prove to be unbearable.”

She went on to denounce the lack of safeguarding measures, stating: “Katie Dolatowski has already taken advantage of access to female spaces to commit sexual assault. It is absolutely unacceptable that this person was being given the same opportunity again.”

Currently, violent male offenders incarcerated in Scotland can be placed in women’s prisons provided they are recognized as transgender.

In October, the Scottish Prison Service (SPS) confirmedthat half of the current inmates who identify as transgender only began doing so following their convictions.

By Genevieve Gluck Genevieve is the Co-Founder of Reduxx, and the outlet's Chief Investigative Journalist with a focused interest in pornography, sexual predators, and fetish subcultures. She is the creator of the podcast Women's Voices, which features news commentary and interviews regarding women's rights.

[marlsbys-dragons]

I’m so scared right now. 

I’m writing this not for any grand statement or call to action or anything, but because it’s safer for me to express my thoughts here than elsewhere right now.

If this goes like my other original posts, chances are no one will see this. That is ok. I might prefer it, actually. Though if you do happen to see this, please don’t take that to mean I don’t want interaction. This is a time to pull together, and that can most easily be done, in my opinion, by talking.

Like most of the people I figure are likely to see this, I am a queer American. If you are part of this group, chances are pretty good you know what I’m talking about. Earlier today, March 27th 2023 as of writing, there was a mass shooting at The Covenant School in Nashville Tennessee. Six were killed, three children, all age nine, and three adults, all aged between 60-61. The perpetrator was one Aiden Hale, 28, killed by police during a gunfight after their arrival on-scene approximately 14 minutes after 911 was called. 

If you are surprised by that name, so was I. Hale is being reported on mainly by the name Audrey Hale, his legal name, as according to a family member who asked to remain anonymous, he had only recently started identifying as transgender and using he/him pronouns. Despite this, almost all of the quotes featured in stories that I could find use she/her pronouns, and many stories refer to him as either a transgender woman or a female. The latter is inaccurate, the former strikes me as dangerously wrong.

Now, all of that is tragic backstory for the main point of this post. Some ungracious among you may attribute me lingering on the gender identity of the murder as opposed to his crimes as some sort of deflection, or worse, sign of respect. To any hypothetical people doing so, this is not for you. This person was clearly deeply mentally unwell, and if he had survived I would’ve been advocating life in prison.

However, while my heart goes out to the families of this senseless act, my mind turns to my own family. Not just my literal family who I live with, but my queer family, specifically my trans siblings across the US. We are already facing violence, oppression, and open criminalization to a degree not seen in my admittedly brief lifetime. Republicans and other right-wing actors are doing everything they can to instill baseless fear and hatred into our fellow Americans, forcing through bills that restrict our liberties and violate our human rights. 

The easiest targets for this hatred are trans women, aided by the overwhelmingly male statistics of sexual violence, and long-running and unfounded rumors seeded by transphobes and TERFs regarding alleged assaults and sexual motives for transition. After trans women come trans children, targeted for the same reasons children always are: dismissal by adults at large and a subsequent inability to speak to their own defense. And the bills are getting worse. To share a personal detail I don’t like to publicize, I am a parent of two, and there are bills in state legislatures across the country, Florida comes to mind, that could take my children away from me and throw me in jail for supporting them. A seemingly logical progression, which may have already been taken without my knowledge, is criminalizing trans people who live with children, something I have had nightmares about.

Why I am afraid is relatively simple, but to fully explain my reasons I want to share some further information: according to the Daily Mail, this shooting is is the 129th in the States this year. According to some very rough math I did on gunviolencearchive.org, a site whose list for 2023 has already reached 6 pages, this is in fact the 130th. Personally I would trust the Daily Mail’s number more. Also according to some quick finger counting on gunviolencearchive.org, we surpassed 100 mass shootings sometime on March 5th, a day with 4 separate incidents and a combined total of 3 dead, 13 injured. This is nearly two weeks earlier in the year than 2022 or 2021, and more than two months earlier than 2018-2020. I could not stomach looking farther. 

Some of you may have realized the awful truth about these numbers: in each of the last three years, we in the United States have had more than one mass shooting a day. Again per gunviolencearchive.org, that is a feat replicated by both 2020 and 2019, as well as 2016, the only other year to do so after their archival began in 2014.

As a trans person in America, who loves a trans person in America, who has trans friends across America, who has already had to start laying plans to flee the state I was raised in if it continues its present course, who sees nothing but fear in the future of so much of my family, I can only think that this will lead to bad things. 

The twisting and slanting has already begun. An article on Fox News refers to Hall as a transgender woman, despite his actual identity being a transgender man, and the usual bias of that company to call him a woman. Meanwhile, the New York post has an article focusing heavily on Covenant’s status as a Christian school.

Our enemies despise us with a visceral and blinding rage. They have proven time and time again that facts, logic, reason, human lives, mean nothing in their pursuit of a radicalized right-wing populist agenda and the power they think it promises. And now this? The all-too-real intersection of two of the biggest issues in US politics today: gun violence and transness. One which the right led to through inaction, and the other they manufactured out of hate.

I am no pundit, no scholar or insider. I cannot claim to forecast the future happenings of American politics with anything more than a layman’s weary eye. But I am a trans American, and despite everything I still want to be proud of this country, and I could see no resolution in sight to either gun violence or anti-trans legislating, only escalation, and now the two have merged. What will happen to us now? Sources:

https://www.thedailybeast.com/nashville-covenant-school-shooting-suspect-identified-as-audrey-hale

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/nashville-christian-school-shooter-appears-former-student-police-chief-rcna76876

https://www.newschannel5.com/news/what-we-know-about-the-covenant-school-shooter-in-nashville

https://www.foxnews.com/us/nashville-shooter-audrey-hale-transgender-woman-opened-fire-covenant-school

https://nypost.com/2023/03/27/nashville-school-shooter-audrey-hale-identified-as-transgender-and-had-detailed-manifesto-to-attack-christian-academy/

https://www.cnn.com/us/live-news/nashville-shooting-covenant-school-03-27-23/index.html

https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/reports/mass-shooting

https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/past-tolls

https://www.cnn.com/2023/03/06/politics/america-mass-shootings-2023-gun-violence/index.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-11907933/Nashville-school-shooting-Americas-129th-mass-shooting-2023.html

https://www.them.us/story/florida-bill-trans-kids-supportive-parents

Note: I wrote this in a hurry, with no real plan, and no proof-reading. If there is anything erroneous, please let me know. I apologize if it’s a bit disjointed. 

[iwannaban0nym0us]

rambley time - this ended up just being soccer probably gonna reblog w/ everything else so this isn't way too massive

i'm terrified i'm so fucking terrified, everything in my life scares me rn and i hate that because things should be good rn

so uh where do i start, i guess soccer makes sense because thats kinda what triggered this

my soccer team is disbanding,,,, again,,, basically last spring the team disbanded because we didn't have enough people who wanted to keep going w/ the club (a bunch of people dropped soccer, a few went to another club) but what me and 3 of my closet teammates did is merge w/ the team a year younger than us (meaning the other team is playing up a year) but since that team is a year younger now they're hitting the point where people are dropping (plus one person my age is quitting for running and another moved to a better club)

i'm so so scared because this time there's no younger team to merge with and that teammate who's dropping soccer for running i've been playing with her for like 7 years,,,,,

there's two main reasons i love this club, 1) the people, 2) it's not quite as committed as a full on club so i have the flexibility to do robotics (which is a huge time suck)

but now i'm terrified because i don't know what comes next like i always kinda thought i'd play w/ this club through high school and now i'm actually coming to terms w/ the fact that i might not be playing non-school soccer like soon

obviously i do have options, like i could go try out for the clubs that my teammates are trying out for but those are ~30min drive away from where i live since i moved while i was on the team and only stuck with it because of the people and with robotics i don't think that is an option because i don't have the time for a fully committed team that far away

another option is a club team in the city i live in and i've been talking w/ a school friend a bit who also plays and we might try and go try out for some teams together but i'm still not sure i want to play club and even if i do want to i might only want to if its with that friend and we might not make the same team(s)

theres also the option of just playing rec in the fall and maybe spring select in the spring (school is in the winter) and honestly i think thats the most likely thing to happen and idk why but that kinda scares me too maybe its because i've been playing club so long and i think i'll feel like less of a soccer player if i can't keep that up but honestly robotics is by far my priority so i think i could live w/ it if i had to

the most terrifying option is that i just stop playing non-school soccer it's pretty unlikely but its still like an actual possibility and i don't think it ever has been before so coming to terms with it is,,,, a lot,,,

so like the soccer thing is really on my mind and whenever i bring it up with like my parents or my friends i feel like they expect things from me. like today my dad was insistent that we get the info for the club that some of my teammates are trying out for (despite them probably gonna end up on a younger team than me) even tho i was saying no since thats the one option i have actually ruled out. and then yesterday i brought it up around a friend and he was like you're so good why don't you just go join another club team and didn't seem to understand that its so much more complicated than that. and also like my friends make fun of me for being a jock and just like expect me to be a soccer person and idkkk aaaaaa

another thing that scares me about joining another team is coming out again because sports are so fucking gendered i hate it, and like its more than just name or pronouns, i love my current team because they fucking cheered when i came out (they were glad my announcement wasn't that i was leaving the team lmao) but even tho i live in an accepting area there's no guarantee a new team would be accepting, also i finally trained my coach to stop calling us 'ladies' or 'girls' and i'd have to do that all fucking over again, and i really really don't think i could deal w/ being forced to wear a fem cut jersey again so i'd have to figure out how to get a men's uniform all over again w/ the new team and going back to the accepting point being in the closet isn't even really an option because i just look so viably queer (plus i have a girlfriend lol)

[selincakar-archive]

❝ a bitten tongue and gritted teeth, midnight underwear dance parties, cropped cardigans, worn jeans, late night bonfires, the ashes of a forgotten cigarette, stolen sweaters with too long sleeves, taper candles stuck into teacups, baggy tees, abandoned mugs of coffee, tragic romance movies, aggressively making tea, nap marathons, bergamot scented anything, a purse full of dr. pepper and chocolate candy

BIOGRAPHY | CONNECTIONS | PINTEREST

NAME: Selin (SAY-lihn) Tülay Çakar

PREFERRED NAME/NICKNAME(S): Sey

AGE: Thirty-three

BIRTHDAY: June 21st, 1989

ZODIAC: Cancer sun, Capricorn moon, Sagittarius rising

RESIDENTIAL AREA: Bighorn Hills

OCCUPATION: Owner of Harp Antiques

LENGTH OF TIME IN PROVIDENCE: 33 years, minus a few spent in Seattle and Boston

basics.

BIRTHPLACE: Providence Peak, Colorado

HOMETOWN: Providence Peak, Colorado

GENDER IDENTIFICATION: Cis Woman (she/her)

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual, Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Divorced and currently single

POSITIVE TRAITS: Protective, sentimental, hospitable, thoughtful, tenacious

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Reticent, moody, impressionable, provoking, melancholic

family.

MOTHER: Afet Çakar

FATHER: Selim Çakar

SIBLINGS: Two older brothers, one younger sister (all WC’s)

OTHER: two cats, Danny and Dawson

tldr (but still long af, actually).

TW: chronic illness, infidelity, death

Born and raised in Providence Peak, Selin comes from a tight knit (if not somewhat overbearing) family. Her grandfather started a sporting goods store that her father later sold, turning a tidy profit in the process. Despite the influx in money, though, their family remained humble and always lived well below their means. 

Sey was always a bit of a curious, wandering child-- more prone to being found in a dark, dusty corner of the local library or out on one of the many trails than she was at home in her room. That all came to an abrupt end when she was fifteen.

While out with a few friends on a run of the mill hike she started to feel off and, before any of them fully realized what was happening, she lost consciousness. For a little over twenty-four hours she was in a hypoglycemic coma and ultimately ended up being diagnosed with type one diabetes. 

The entire ordeal wreaked havoc on her parents, and they became a little too concerned, a little too involved in her life from there on out. Even though Sey knew it came from a good place, their constant doubt in her ability to take care of herself and micromanaging began to feel like an invisible cage. 

At age twenty-three her boyfriend proposed, despite having only been together for about eight months, and, in a desperate bid for independence and separation, she said yes. It wasn’t long before they were wed and then she was off– following him first to Seattle during his surgical internship, and then to Mass Gen in Boston for his residency. 

Long story short? Their marriage was paper thin and in no time she realized she’d made a mistake. Still, she stubbornly stayed, only returning home to Colorado after his affair with a co-worker was revealed.

Upon returning she started working at the local antique store where she’d gotten her first job back in high school. When Weldon Harp, the cantankerous owner, passed away not long after she was shocked to learn he’d left her the store (and a few acres of land) in his will. 

headcanons.

is the proud cat mom of two rescues, danny and dawson, who she named after the romantic leads in her two favorite movies.

refuses to acknowledge what it might say about her that both characters in both movies tragically died.

despite having owned the property she inherited from weldon harp for several years now she's made no move to build on it. instead, sey lives in the eccentric little carriage/cabin hybrid situation that's been there from the start.

is the queen of "it's okay" and "i'm fine" even when (or especially when) it is absolutely and most definitely not.

mutters "what the fuck" under her breath at least 36 times a day and "my boobs are too pretty for this shit" might at well be her catchphrase.

these days she uses an omnipod (wireless insulin pump) affectionately nicknamed sue ellen. in case you were wondering, she’s also named her glucose monitor dex. whenever one of them decides to yell at her sey is 1000% known to yell back. 

always keeps a chocolate candy bar and can of regular soda on her in case her sugar gets too low. ice cream is her weakness, though, and she probably indulges in it more often than she should. 

has never once in her life invited someone into her place without offering them tea. or tequila. dealer's choice.

believes in her heart that half a pot of coffee and two cigarettes should be considered a balanced breakfast, but faithfully eats a veggie loaded omelet or some plain greek yogurt with blackberries every morning because she’s a good girl. 

her wardrobe ranges from band groupie to suburban dad to pastel princess and nothing in between.

similarly, her dance moves also range from white dad at a bbq to a stripper whose rent is due next week.

soft, sensitive, and easily hurt but will keep laughing and never show it

rarely saves numbers in her phone but in the event that she does keep a contact it's always under a nickname or funny descriptive

selin is, in fact, obnoxiously loyal and protective of those she cares about. she always has a smile and a minite (or ten) to talk with anyone she meets, but you know you've made it in her books when that smile takes on a decidedly asshole-ish vibe

[blinditcms]

DYLAN RAIN on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 33 YEAR OLD looks like OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN, but i don’t really see it. while the STUNTMAN/FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHER is known for being PROTECTIVE my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be HARSH. i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song YOU’RE ALL I NEED –– MOTLEY CRUE

BASIC INFORMATION:

name: dylan christopher rain. peter christopher isaac junior. nicknames: dyl, d. pronouns: he/him. gender: cis man. age: thirty-three. date of birth: november 28th, ‘89. place of birth: lismore, australia. ( moved at the age of twenty-four to beverly  hills , united states due to family relocating ) astrological sign: saggitarius. orientation: straight.

APPEARANCE:

height: six foot three. build: broad shouldered, strong muscles, but still relatively slender. hair colour: brown. eye colour: blue. wardrobe style: tends to wear clothes that he can move in, lots of sweatshirts, hoodies, and form fitting but not too tight t-shirts in dark colours. tattoos: none. piercings: none. defining features: bright blue eyes and a large scar moving up his left arm.

HEALTH:

physical ailments: none. mental ailments: PTSD. alcohol use: drinks socially. drug use: rarely - if any, weed. addictions: none.

PERSONALITY:

positive traits: protective, charismatic, honest. negative traits: quick-tempered, cold, harsh. mbti: ISTJ-A

ACTIVITIES & SKILLS:

skills: most sports - specifically gymnastics/acrobatics, long-distance running. weaknesses: anything creative. languages spoken: english, arabic.

FAMILY:

father: pete isaac ( deceased, fifty - five ) mother: meredith rain elain isaac nee scottsman ( alive, fifty - one ) sister: florence rain gwyn isaac ( alive, twenty - five ) ​

CAREER/LIFE DETAILS (tw: military, abuse, psychosis, ptsd, stabbing, murder) :

peter was born to a devoted, very young and ambitious mother, elain, and a military man father, pete. as a young boy, he spent most of his time with his grandparents, as his father was away on military tours and his mother was still studying to become a defence lawyer. peter had not been planned – though he never felt that way. though both parents worked incredibly hard to provide for him and his younger sister gwyn and they were well-off, they were there for every important moment in his life, or his mum had been anyway. he adored his father though and looked up to him immensely. he was a powerful, strong and enigmatic man, absolutely devoted to his children.

as he grew up, his father retired from the force and now working as a fire fighter, his opinion didn’t change one bit. instead, despite pretending otherwise, he had his life planned out for himself. join the army like his father had done and rise up in rank. peter wouldn’t leave the army, no matter what happened. though he could see the mental toll it had taken on his father, to him, that was honourable. that was what a real man should do. he took up every sport he could and excelled in gymnastics and track.

so when his father’s behaviour became more erratic, peter ignored it. it was par for the course, it was proof of how much good his father had done, the risks he had taken. when he finished high school, he immediately signed up for the army. it was only a few days before he was due to set out for basic training that his father had his first erratic episode that turned violent. he had come running inside from the pool when he found his dad with his hands on his sister’s shoulders, pushing her roughly against a wall. his first thought - what had gwyn done? he immediately positioned himself behind his father and grappled the man, holding him tightly until he calmed down, not before receiving an elbow to the face. it had not been fun to explain to his drill sergeant a few days later.

he spent little time at home after that. he immediately went on his first deployment to iraq. he called home as often as he could, his mother often berading him for choosing to go into the military in the first place, his father equal parts proud and disappointed over the phone, and using most of his time to speak to gwyn. he went on deployment after deployment, rarely staying home for much for than two months in between. he was on his sixth tour, the second one in afghanistan, when he had managed to secure some temporary leave. he initially had wanted to delay his deployment - his father was getting worse and he did not like the idea of leaving them alone with him, but he’d had no choice. he’d also missed gwyn’s sixteenth birthday, but it was only a few weeks out - and he still hoped to surprise her by coming back a bit earlier.

as peter made his way up the drive, he heard yelling - panicked and frightened. he dropped his bags in the front garden and ran up to the house and inside, he found a scene right out of his nightmares. his sister and his mother in a fight with his father. time seemed to slow as he sprinted, seeing the second knife, held by gwyn, stabbed into his father’s chest. there were wood splinters everywhere, and a struggle had clearly already ensued. rage bubbled up his throat like bile and he pulled his father off his sister with an effort. she was freaking out and would not stop holding onto him, but eventually he managed. the blood was spreading, but in his father’s psychosis, he still seemed adamant to cause harm. a dangerous calm came over him and he took what he had learned in training and did the opposite. peter locked eyes with the man who’d given him his name, grit his teeth in anger, and he pulled both knives out of the wounds. the bloodflow to increased immediately, and he let his father drop the last few inches to the floor before reaching over and pulling his sister into his arms, soothing her but never pulling his dry eyes from his father.

they moved to beverly hills as soon as the case had been dropped. the case had brought some unwanted attention onto him, but he was honourably discharged, his final rank a major. they changed their names – peter christopher isaac became dylan christopher rain. he was at a loss of what to do, so he found work as an extra and got his personal training license. he stumbled his way into stunt work and found that his gymnastics experience along with his army experience helped. he knew how real fights looked, but he also knew how to make them safe. the last few years, he’s been working on various tv-shows and films for their stunt work, now slowly taking on more stunt coordinator and choreographer work now he’s getting a little older.

[elizmanderson]

2022 wrap-up, part 4

part 1 is here

part 2 is here

part 3 is here

istg this is the last part. it just turns out I did more stuff this year than I thought, which is exactly why I do these wrap-ups for myself every year. otherwise I fixate on the bad parts or the parts where I did nothing yet somehow also failed to rest.

travel

new york

I went to NYC for the first time ever for my friend chelsea's book launch! the officially unofficial one that we had for her in central park, since during her official book launch I was at phantom of the opera with another one of our friends who was kind enough to treat me to a broadway show

I saw and did a lot and went many places, but lowkey the highlight of my trip (aside from meeting all my long-time twitter writing peeps <3) was my last evening in the city. I had a drink at the stonewall inn and then wandered around the village, taking pictures of buildings because I was in love with the light on the fire escapes. I turned down jane street without even thinking about it.

after about a block, I was like, "wait, which street did I just turn down," and I went back to the nearest intersection to check. but nope, I'd turned down the right street without looking at my map, without paying strict attention to street signs and landmarks, without even thinking about it. I realize actual new yorkers will 100% disagree with this, but in that moment new york became a little bit mine and I became a little bit hers.

it took me months to recover financially from this trip, even with staying in a sketchy hostel and without paying for my own broadway tickets, but I loved it. a lot more than I thought I would, actually, since I grew up in the country and I'm probably three trees in a trench coat rather than an actual human person.

admittedly when I got back and saw how green the trails on our campus were, I was like "how did I even THINK I liked it there?? they kept all their nature in one place and it wasn't half this green!!" but I seriously did fall in love with the city, and yes I obnoxiously point at the screen when watching media set in manhattan like "I've been there!!" I am That Bitch.

georgia

I mean okay fine I go to georgia every year because my parents live here now. but still. I love savannah and coastal georgia in general, and this year I also visited jekyll island for the first time. I didn't stay long at jekyll, and unfortunately savannah was so cold I might as well have been back home (jk, it was sub-zero at home and a balmy 15 in savannah on the coldest night), but I always love going, I got to see my beloved atlantic, and I once again took a thousand pictures of live oaks just because.

other things

non-book media

movies: cyrano (yes it says 2021 but it wasn't at my theater until february of this year, so we're calling it 2022), bros, thor: love & thunder, ticket to paradise, see how they run, and actually encanto played at our second-run theater so I saw that in theaters again <3

tv: ofmd and only murders in the building, both new comfort shows despite one involving piracy and the other involving murder

musicals: groundhog day: the musical and come from away, and also I'm listing cyrano here in addition to above bc I love the soundtrack and have it in my car along with the other two

personal tomfoolery

we're about to go full-on diary here, but whatever bc that's how I used this blog before I got 500 new followers and ofmd ruined all other uses of said blog, so that's how I'm finishing this post

queer feels

I've both thought about and avoided about thinking about my sexuality and gender even more than I already have in the past 10 or 12 years. I like "queer" for this reason: it covers any non-allocishet identity I might ever need. it indicates that I'm part of the community while giving me space and time to figure out the particulars on my own (and reduces the need for me to come out repeatedly to the same people as I decide on new identities, which is good bc I viscerally hate coming out at all and dream of a world where I wouldn't have to). I like more particular labels for helping me figure out my experience, validating my experience, and finding other people whose experiences are similar.

I'm still thinking through they, although I admit when I asked folks to use it in a pronoun testing room I got warm fuzzies. I've avoided thinking through my gender in detail, but I bought a genderqueer sticker and enamel pin to add to my existing pride stickers and pins. it's just that it's like I have to come out to myself.

I did actually come out to my dad as queer this year. which made me feel feelings even though it shouldn't have been a big deal bc my parents are allies. my dad's literally in his law school's gsa, much to the confusion of the younger folks. I came out via email, in the spur of the moment, which is both a very me and a very internet-dad way to come out. and he basically said, "thanks for trusting me with that, but I already vibed it from your writing."

(I'm paraphrasing. my sixty-year-old, deeply uncool white-guy father didn't use the word "vibed.")

I'm quietly queer, for the most part, but every year I get a little louder. this year, with fascism on the rise and so many anti-queer and specifically anti-trans bills brought forth in so many states and me only just out of the closet to my parents (albeit less deeply in the closet in the first place than I thought I was), I talked more about my queerness than usual. I put "queer" in every single author bio for every single thing for which I needed a bio. I stickered my laptop in pride flags. I put up pride flags outside my office and pride pins inside it and joined the dei committee at work. I'm not a fighter. but I got just a little bit louder.

friend feels

I kinda started thinking some time within the last few years, how many friendships have I maybe missed out on because both of us were too insecure to take the first real step and be friends?

which has highkey always been my approach to romance. I'll get my heart broke a thousand times and still go after every new person I fall for. but when it comes to friendship, I'm like do not.

but I've been thinking this lately.

so with an existing maybe-friend, when an opportunity came along to write him a letter for a retreat he went on, I basically just wrote him a letter like "hey I care about you and I'm glad we're friends." and boom, lo and behold, he came back like "oh my goodness thank you so much for that wonderful letter," and things have been much more comfortable since then. which was a nice lil validation of my theory that sometimes people Do Not Dislike Me, In Fact, but are just as insecure in friendship as I am.

I also made a whole new friend with this new girl at work. the rsd has hit me fucking hard this year, which I do not appreciate. but I keep pushing past it and making an effort, and now I have a nice stash of good encounters stored up for when the rsd tries to bamboozle me once more. she's so welcoming and lovely and kind, so I hope things are also settled there even if sometimes I feel like they aren't because that's just how I am.

anyway, that's my year. there was a lot of weird and terrible bullshit going on locally, nationally, globally, and in the background, but there was some good shit in there, too.

here's to more friends, more books, more birds, more plants, more falling-in-love-with-cities, more kindness and good and little warm gestures in 2023.

[spctlights]

(—) ★ spotted!! DYLAN RAIN on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 33 year old looks like OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN, but i don’t really see it. while the STUNTMAN/STUNT COORDINATOR is known for being PROTECTIVE my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be HARSH i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song YOU’RE ALL I NEED –– MOTLEY CRUE

BASIC INFORMATION:

name: dylan christopher rain. peter christopher isaac junior.

nicknames: dyl, d.

pronouns: he/him.

gender: cis man.

age: thirty-three.

date of birth: november 28th, ‘89.

place of birth: lismore, australia. ( moved at the age of twenty-four to beverly  hills , united states due to family relocating )

astrological sign: saggitarius.

orientation: straight.

APPEARANCE:

height: six foot three.

build: broad shouldered, strong muscles, but still relatively slender.

hair colour: brown.

eye colour: blue.

wardrobe style: tends to wear clothes that he can move in, lots of sweatshirts, hoodies, and form fitting but not too tight t-shirts in dark colours.

tattoos: none.

piercings: none.

defining features: bright blue eyes and a large scar moving up his left arm.

HEALTH:

physical ailments: none.

mental ailments: PTSD.

alcohol use: drinks socially.

drug use: rarely - if any, weed.

addictions: none.

PERSONALITY:

positive traits: protective, charismatic, honest.

negative traits: quick-tempered, cold, harsh.

ACTIVITIES & SKILLS:

skills: most sports - specifically gymnastics/acrobatics, long-distance running.

weaknesses: anything creative.

languages spoken: english, some arabic.

FAMILY:

father: pete isaac ( deceased, fifty - five )

mother: meredith rain elain isaac nee scottsman ( alive, fifty - one )

sister: florence rain gwyn isaac ( alive, twenty - five ) @delvedinto​

CAREER/LIFE DETAILS (tw: military, abuse, psychosis, ptsd, stabbing, murder) :

peter was born to a devoted, very young and ambitious mother, elain, and a military man father, pete. as a young boy, he spent most of his time with his grandparents, as his father was away on military tours and his mother was still studying to become a defence lawyer. peter had not been planned – though he never felt that way. though both parents worked incredibly hard to provide for him and his younger sister gwyn and they were well-off, they were there for every important moment in his life, or his mum had been anyway. he adored his father though and looked up to him immensely. he was a powerful, strong and enigmatic man, absolutely devoted to his children.

as he grew up, his father retired from the force and now working as a fire fighter, his opinion didn’t change one bit. instead, despite pretending otherwise, he had his life planned out for himself. join the army like his father had done and rise up in rank. peter wouldn’t leave the army, no matter what happened. though he could see the mental toll it had taken on his father, to him, that was honourable. that was what a real man should do. he took up every sport he could and excelled in gymnastics and track.

so when his father’s behaviour became more erratic, peter ignored it. it was par for the course, it was proof of how much good his father had done, the risks he had taken. when he finished high school, he immediately signed up for the army. it was only a few days before he was due to set out for basic training that his father had his first erratic episode that turned violent. he had come running inside from the pool when he found his dad with his hands on his sister’s shoulders, pushing her roughly against a wall. his first thought - what had gwyn done? he immediately positioned himself behind his father and grappled the man, holding him tightly until he calmed down, not before receiving an elbow to the face. it had not been fun to explain to his drill sergeant a few days later.

he spent little time at home after that. he immediately went on his first deployment to iraq. he called home as often as he could, his mother often berading him for choosing to go into the military in the first place, his father equal parts proud and disappointed over the phone, and using most of his time to speak to gwyn. he went on deployment after deployment, rarely staying home for much for than two months in between. he was on his sixth tour, the second one in afghanistan, when he had managed to secure some temporary leave. he initially had wanted to delay his deployment - his father was getting worse and he did not like the idea of leaving them alone with him, but he’d had no choice. he’d also missed gwyn’s sixteenth birthday, but it was only a few weeks out - and he still hoped to surprise her by coming back a bit earlier.

as peter made his way up the drive, he heard yelling - panicked and frightened. he dropped his bags in the front garden and ran up to the house and inside, he found a scene right out of his nightmares. his sister and his mother in a fight with his father. time seemed to slow as he sprinted, seeing the second knife, held by gwyn, stabbed into his father’s chest. there were wood splinters everywhere, and a struggle had clearly already ensued. rage bubbled up his throat like bile and he pulled his father off his sister with an effort. she was freaking out and would not stop holding onto him, but eventually he managed. the blood was spreading, but in his father’s psychosis, he still seemed adamant to cause harm. a dangerous calm came over him and he took what he had learned in training and did the opposite. peter locked eyes with the man who’d given him his name, grit his teeth in anger, and he pulled both knives out of the wounds. the bloodflow to increased immediately, and he let his father drop the last few inches to the floor before reaching over and pulling his sister into his arms, soothing her but never pulling his dry eyes from his father.

they moved to beverly hills as soon as the case had been dropped. the case had brought some unwanted attention onto him, but he was honourably discharged, his final rank a major. they changed their names – peter christopher isaac became dylan christopher rain. he was at a loss of what to do, so he found work as an extra and got his personal training license. he stumbled his way into stunt work and found that his gymnastics experience along with his army experience helped. he knew how real fights looked, but he also knew how to make them safe. the last few years, he’s been working on various tv-shows and films for their stunt work, now slowly taking on more stunt coordinator and choreographer work now he’s getting a little older.

[reanimated-alice]

I posted 91 times in 2022

That's 91 more posts than 2021!

3 posts created (3%)

88 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@niceboyeds

@boss

@billysbabyy

@eddieandbird

I tagged 80 of my posts in 2022

Only 12% of my posts had no tags

#alice's reblogs - 53 posts

#why isn't he real - 13 posts

#eddie munson - 9 posts

#i need him like i need air - 7 posts

#so cute - 5 posts

#alice speaks - 4 posts

#billy hargrove - 4 posts

#steve harrington - 4 posts

#stranger things - 4 posts

#niceboyeds - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 50 characters

#i need a steve x billy x reader x eddie now please

My Top Posts in 2022:

#3

im bored. maybe i should finish my steve fic.

@eddiemunsons-girl tell me to finish it.

nicely.

2 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

#2

Hi there! My name is Alice, and I’m 20 years old. I love Joseph Quinn and all things creepy. Ghost, zombies, skeletons, you name it. I do roleplay, if that’s what you’re into, and I do write. I just have trouble with finishing a story. Anyway, feel free to reach out, even just to chat!

4 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

comforts of home | s. h.

A/N: this is the first work i've ever posted on here, so maybe be kind?

Warnings: none? just fluff? anyway, enjoy!

Steve Harrington x gender neutral!reader

♚

Steve had never really felt like he had a home before. Sure, he lived in a house, but there was a difference. His parents were never home enough to make it feel like the house was lived in. A home is meant to be a safe haven and comfort zone, right? Steve's home felt more like a trophy case, meant to be seen and not touched. And he was a trophy inside.

A small noise from you broke him out of the internal monologue he was going through. He looked down at you and smiled, running his fingers through your hair. You were everything to him. Wherever you were, Steve was home. You took away all the stress life had given him.

As you shifted in his lap, Steve couldn't help but remember the times he'd tried to protect you and keep you free of the knowledge of what was happening right under your feet. The Upside Down, the demogorgans, the Russians, all of it. But eventually, (or more specifically, when the disaster at Starcourt happened and Steve had climbed through your window afterward) the truth had to come out.

"Steve Harrington," you'd said as you'd held a wet rag to his face. "If you don't tell me what's actually going on, how you're actually getting hurt, I swear to God, you'll find my window locked from now on."

Despite the pain he'd been in, he'd smiled. God, you were stubborn. And brave. And also completely likely to get what you wanted. So, sighing, he'd told you.

You hadn't turned away from him, or cried, or denied everything he was saying. You'd paled a bit as the words sank in, but other than that, you hadn't said anything, just nodded and listened as you'd cleaned his cuts and scrapes.

"Steve?"

The quiet sound of his name broke him out of his reverie. He looked at his lap to see you rubbing your eyes, obviously just waking up from your nap.

"Hey, sleepy head," he crooned affectionately, running a hand though your hair. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," you replied and yawned. God, you were adorable. "Just missed you."

Steve's heart swelled and he couldn't help but tease you. "I've been here this whole time, goof." He poked your stomach and you hunched over, giggling.

You moved so you were sitting in his lap, your arms around his waist, and buried your face in his neck. He could feel your warm breath against his skin and the flutter of your eyelashes against his pulse as you fell victim to Morpheus once more.

"Yeah but..." you said quietly. "You were too far 'way."

Steve pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over the both of you.

"Well, I've got you now. And I always will." Steve kissed the side of your face. "I'll never be too far from you. I love you."

"Love you too," you replied in the sweetest, sleepiest voice he'd ever heard.

Steve thought he couldn't possibly love you anymore than he'd loved you then. In your arms, Steve was home.

In your arms, he was safe.

"You're my home," he whispered into your hair as you finally fell back asleep.

116 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[author-chan06]

Keigo Takami & Me

Keigo Takami:

General Personal Info:

Name: Keigo Takami

Age: 23

Pronouns: He/Him

Gender: Cis Man

Orientation: Biromantic, Bisexual

From: Boku No Hero Academia

Canon Compliant Personality? Mostly/Deviates

Relationship With Me: Mate/Flock/Boyfriend

Backstory Of Us:

(This is an S/I) I was a pretty average child compared to many others in this world. I wanted to be a hero, like pretty much every child. I wasn’t quirkless, but my quirk wasn’t super powerful or danger. Mostly I blended into the background. No one thought I couldn’t become a hero; no one thought I could become a hero. My family wasn’t a big name family with a big name hero or villain. And I wasn’t being abused horribly by any hero or villain. But being in the background like I was wasn’t easy. My parents were either gone or not paying that much attention to me, despite the love they held for me and the love I held for them, and I didn’t really have any friends to talk to. All of this meant that when I heard of the Hero Killer I wasn’t immediately for or against his message, and I had no one to steer me one way or the other. It meant I dug into researching him and his ideas and seeing whether he had a point or not. Eventually, I found myself agreeing with him and his ideas. Hero society was broken, and hero’s were doing it for the wrong reasons. Not only were they doing it for the wrong reasons, but these wrong reasons were causing harm, and that is not something that should happen.

I would have joined the League— I had always had the drive to do good even if it had been affected by an anger at the world during some years, I had always been angry about injustice and I had always tried to fix them on the small scale. I had always wanted to become part of something bigger, to help change on a larger scale— but I still had my parents, and they were the only ones that I actually cared about, and so I wouldn’t just leave them for the League.

But then, they died. Ironically, they died as collateral in a battle between the League and some hero’s who seemed as if they were going against orders. Based on what I know and what I knew back then, it was much easier to get angry at the hero’s who had picked the fight while the League was seeming to have a normal day out, trying to get more food for their base. With my parents gone, and with the League members present struggling because of the unexpected attack— later on I would learn these members were low level new recruits— I decided that this would be the time for me to act. I was crying and horrified, but I stepped in, using my quirk to allow them time to run away. And though they were injured they got away, giving me appreciate nods and silent thanks.

After that, though I wanted to join the League I had no idea how to go about doing so. I knew they recruited people often, and I also knew that they still were looking for people. But I had no idea how to find them, or if my quirk and willingness to help them would allow me into the League without being burnt to a crisp.

Luckily, I didn’t have to find them, as one day, when I was returning home, I found my door unlocked and, upon entering my home, Dabi was there. He told me that their newest recruits told the League about a civilian who had broken quirk laws to help them get away. He said that he wasn’t impressed by that— Not sure if I believe him or not but well— but that the rest of the League wanted to offer me a spot. Just on principle really. Since I already broke the law for them, they might as well just ask, he said. And when I excitedly told him that yes, I would join, he seemed surprised. But he didn’t take the offer back, and he smirked as black goo coated the inside of my throat, and even though I’d heard of the stuff I couldn’t stop the panic that covered me and I heard him laugh and then everything in front of me disappeared.

After that my time with the League was the best time of my life, even though everyone had issues. I learned there that I also had issues, ones I hadn’t even realized because I’d been so focused on the way that others no doubt had it worse than me. And that I actually have childhood trauma that I needed to talk through— which got me much closer to Toga and Dabi— and that the death of my parents had hurt me a lot, because I had to witness it especially.

I got quite close to the members, especially Himiko, Dabi, and Tomura, all of which I eventually started dating— yes, they were all dating as well— and things seemed to be going well. Maybe that should have been a warning.

Dabi was supposed to be going on a random recruitment walk, meaning he was just “making himself available” for anyone who could find him, and who he would then most likely just burn. But when he came back he had surprising news. The Pro Hero Hawks had approached him. Of course, we were all suspicious, but Tomura wanted to see what the hero wanted, and even if he was a spy— which he most likely was— we could still use him for intel and stuff. I was especially hesitant though. I had built a good thing here and the idea of Hawks coming in with unknown motives and destroying it made me more worried than I’d ever felt before. I’m sure the others felt the same, but only Himiko talked to me about these feelings.

Every time Dabi went out to meet with Hawks, we all waited on the couch together for him to return. We believed in his abilities of course, but Hawks was number two for a reason, and he could seriously injure Dabi. We had to be there when he came back, so if need be we would be there to heal him back, and if not then we needed to be there for him to talk to us about the meeting. We needed to know he was ok.

Dabi didn’t seem to trust Hawks at all, though he did find him amusing. Apparently the hero wasn’t what he had expected, and apparently the hero was also a major flirt. But eventually Tomura decided that it was time to meet the hero, mainly because he thought that if we left him dangling for much longer he’d give up, and we all waited in silence for Dabi to return this time, weapons and quirks at the ready.

That was the first time we met Hawks, and Dabi was right… he was not what I expected. He quickly integrated himself into the League, joking around with Jin and gaming with Tomura, but there was always something… tense about him. I knew I wasn’t the only one that noticed, as the others would throw glances his way and at each other and me, seeking confirmation and to share their own confusion. Spy or not, we weren’t just going to up and kill him if he didn’t try anything yet, so none of us were quite sure why he was so tense. And then I started noticing him outside of his meetings with us. He was still tense. It was like he never really relaxed, not even at his own agency.

It was concerning, but none of us knew what to do. The one time I tried to broach the subject he shut it down quickly, laughing and joking it away with a frustrating amount of skill.

This would have continued, and he no doubt would have eventually snapped under this pressure and betrayed up, if the hero council hadn’t done what it had did. And what it did was punish Hawks for not getting information fast enough, and they did so by cutting off a specific part of some of his feathers that would just hurt without stopping him from being able to fly. He flew as fast as he could to our base and collapsed, trembling in pain, onto our couch. This is when he finally started to open up about the commission and what they did to him and how they have owned him for years.

Even with that though, I assumed he would still betray us, but I gave him some of my trust, and we started actually talking. We didn’t seem to have a whole lot on common at first, but we found out that we both pretended to be people that we weren’t, and that our relationship with hero society was… confusing at best. He was curious about my following of Stain and the League’s ideas of reform that we’d just started crafting, and I wanted to know more about the real him. It led to a lot of interesting talks.

I’m not really sure when it happened, but he basically just became integrated into our relationship, coming on dates with us and just hanging out when we all did. It was strange, but eventually he admitted to his feelings, and told us that now we felt like his flock. And he called us his mates. Which excited Himiko to no end.

What really clinched this in the end is when he actually fought against the hero’s when they came to raid us, coming to our aid without hesitation and allowing all of us to get away.

Relationship Info:

Anniversary: July 14th

Ship Name: #arihawks

[wahlpaper]

Girls Like Girls Review

Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

CW: Loss of a Parent, Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking and Drug Use, Dangerous Driving, Near Death Experience, Breaking and Entering, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Controlling Parent, Domestic Abuse, Toxic Friendships, Fade-To-Black Sexual Activity, Vomit, Child Abandonment, Swearing, Grief, Violence, Injury, Bullying, Mentioned Abortion, Gaslighting, Classism, Sexism, Accidental Outing

3.5/5

I grew up watching Hayley Kiyoko on Disney Channel and have been following her music career for quite a while. When she announced that she was writing a book, I knew I had to read it, no matter what. For those who use YouTube more than me, you may have realized that this book is based on the music video for the song of the same name. I didn't realize this until listening to the acknowledgments at the end of the book. Based on my experience, I recommend reading the book before watching the music video, assuming you haven't seen it yet. The story ventured outside of my comfort zone, but kept reeling me back in. I honestly didn't know if I liked the book until the very end, but I had refused to DNF a Kiyoko book. 

After her mom dies by suicide, Coley moves to a small town in Oregon. It's the summer before her senior year of high school and she's now stuck living with the father that skipped out on raising her. He's a man she doesn't know or trust. While out biking to avoid being home, she nearly gets run over by a group of popular kids. They likely wouldn't have taken her under their wing if it weren't for their ring leader, Sonya, being intrigued by Coley. As the summer goes on, the two girls become inseparable. Will they unravel their feelings for each other or will their family lives and social circles drag them down?

It's important to note that Girls Like Girls is set in 2006. Kiyoko was 15 that year and therefore able to pull from her own memories of how teenagers lived in 2006. There's AIM, LiveJournal, tattoo chokers, no smartphones, and different slang. There are also a lot of references to the popular music of that time. I recommend looking up the songs you're unfamiliar with for the full experience. Of course, the mindset towards human rights was also of the time. Many characters, Coley and Sonya included, could have benefited from therapy, but that wasn't as openly talked about 17 years ago. Homophobia was also more publicly accepted at the time. These issues haven't gone away, but it's nice to see that things have improved. 

Speaking of queer content, Girls Like Girls is a story about two very different teen girls realizing they are attracted to their own gender. It becomes clearer throughout the story, that despite Sonya coming from a well-off family, Coley is in a much safer environment to come out as gay. Sonya has a controlling mother and a few openly homophobic friends. Coley finds several other queer people in her community and a number of allies. I am relieved that we got a little bit of Sonya's POV, because the relationship between Coley and her would read as irredeemably toxic otherwise. I am also relieved that the book takes the time to address the toxicity that's there. If you're patient, the book will address everything you're wondering about.

I experienced Girls Like Girls as an audiobook. It was mostly read by Kiyoko doing Coley's POV. I enjoy her voice and love when an author reads their own book. She was joined by one of my favorite audiobook narrators, Natalie Naudus, for Sonya's LiveJournal posts and emails. There are a few other voices throughout for small parts. While I enjoyed the ensemble cast of voices, I disliked the music and ambient sounds that were mixed in. If it had been consistent throughout the whole book, I would have liked it. Instead, the additional sounds would appear out of nowhere and temporarily take me out of the story. Please keep that in mind if you're trying to decide between print and audio. 

Kiyoko's writing style will appeal to fans of Sarah Dessen, especially those looking for queer content. It's a summer romance, for one. It handles dark topics well without being the kind of book to make the audience cry. It's a small town setting with a new girl trying to become a part of a group of friends who have known each other for years. It's not usually my type of genre, which is why I potentially would've DNF'd it had a different author written it. There were scenes that made me uncomfortable, but I was often reeled back in by the action. I don't regret sticking it out to the end. I enjoy the way the story resolves. Of course, you'll have to read it yourself if you want to know the ending. 

If you're interested in a small-town YA romance with queer content and dark topics, Hayley Kiyoko's Girls Like Girls is the book for you. Should you pick it up and stick it out, you'll be rewarded with a music video summary of the book. Give it a chance, it's the kind of book you'll remember!

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

we must love

“...but this much is real.”

future! adult! ace x reader

gender neutral reader

synopsis: ace had always been nothing more than a little boy to you: a friend you considered to be like a pet. but now that you see him again and get a chance to meet him once more, your views on him start to shift into something more passionate. 

i | part ii | iii | iv

“So,” Ace started, leaning his chin on his hand and glancing at you, “How have you been?”

You peered up from your dinner, fork in one hand and knife in other. You remembered how you had run into Ace, a dear friend of yours that you had lost contact with after graduating, during a ten-year school reunion and how he had cordially invited you out for dinner to catch up. He insisted on treating you, despite your best efforts, and dragged you out to a fancy restaurant where you were now seated, stuffing your face to your heart’s content.

“Me?” You asked, hastily swallowing. “I told you already. I’ve been doing fine. I got a nice job, I’ve settled down to work, and I’m living out my days as anyone else would.”

Ace rolled his eyes, exaggeratedly sighing. “That’s so boring. It’s been ten years since we’ve seen each other, and that’s all you can tell me about your life? You were so eager to talk with me during the reunion, so I thought you had something big to tell me.”

You smiled at him apologetically and shook your head. “Nah, I don’t have anything like that. I was just happy to see you again! I mean, do you have anything big to tell me? I wanna hear what you’ve been up to as well.”

“Nothing much on my end as well. Well, I suppose I could tell you about my brother. He’s gotten engaged pretty recently, so our family’s all up in a frenzy about the wedding,” Ace sighed once more. “I never thought I’d spend so much time watching my parents freak out over cake and lace. Like, I knew weddings were a pretty big deal and took a lot of care, but I genuinely thought if I saw another catalog of sweets again, I’d throw up until I passed out.”

“Another wedding, huh? It looks like everyone’s getting hitched around us.” Your eyes crinkled up when you laughed, and Ace swallowed thickly, ignoring the butterflies all fluttering around in his stomach. 

He hated letting his mind run wild—he considered himself to be better than the kind of guy to get all sappy and daydream-y, especially since he was a think-now-do-later kind of person. But with you being all sparkly and bright about the prospect of a wedding, he couldn’t help but let his heart skip a beat.

“We’re around that age,” he nonchalantly remarked, twirling one of his utensils in his hand. “If I’m to quote my family, it was about time for my brother to get married. He’s like what- 33 years old? He’s no longer the handsome young playboy he used to be when he was younger. And he’s known his partner for a while, so I guess it really was only a matter of time.”

You pretend to grimace. You pushed back from the table slightly, biting the inside of your cheek as your gaze fell elsewhere. “Still… Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for all these couples, but it feels weird to think that all these people I knew and grew up with are now old enough to get married and start families and essentially become the adults I thought I’d never grow up to be. You feel me, don’t you?”

“I do.” He nodded. A murky look flickered over his face, and the usual cheeky demeanor faded away for a minute. He leaned closer to you. “Even more so because it’s my brother now. I still feel like a little kid sometimes. I was so eager to grow up and get to be on my own, but even now, I feel like I’m pretending more than anything else.”

“Nice to know I’m not alone there,” you laughed sheepishly. “I know everyone jokes that no one really knows how to ‘adult,’ but not a lot of people talk about it a lot. And like, look at you! You’re so dazzling and put together that I can hardly believe the little troublemaker I went to school with turned out so fine like this! I’d never know that you’d be floundering around too, had you not told me.”

Ace’s attention perked up at your shy compliments, and he grinned at you, putting his worries off to the side. “Oh? Is that what you think of me?”

“Yeah…? Why else would I think otherwise?” You innocently replied, tilting your head. “I can’t be mean to the guy literally taking me out to dinner, can I? Even then, you should have seen all the heads you turned at the reunion. Mr. Ace Trappola, notoriously bratty Night Raven College student, showing up all dressed up as if he walked straight out of a fashion magazine…”

You threw your hands in the air for dramatic effect. Ace snorted to himself, making a noise between a choke and a huff.

“Okay, now you’re definitely just messing with me. You better be careful, or else you’re gonna make me think you’re flirting with me,” he remarked dryly. He smiled, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “Although I wouldn’t mind it if someone like you were to hit on me.”

“Oh, please! I could never be that direct when flirting with someone.” Your cheeks flared up with heat, burning slightly like the rays of the afternoon sun, at the thought. Ace laughed loudly, enjoying the way you fretted over your words, clearly enjoying your little struggle.

A pleasant silence settled between the two of you, and you pushed around the leftovers on your plate with your fork. Ace watched you with fond eyes, knowing perfectly well that as much as he loved teasing you, you would definitely have no clue about how real his emotions were deep down. He wished he could keep this moment forever: you seated in front of him and sharing a nice meal, laughing at his lame jokes and giving him that warm and fuzzy feeling he hadn’t felt in so long, remembering every part of your casual manner and endearing personality that made it so easy for him to fall head over heels for you yet again.

“Are you done eating? We can get the check,” he offered, breaking the quiet atmosphere. You started in your seat and quickly nodded, reaching for your bag.

Ace waved his hand, stopping you in your tracks. “C’mon, I already said this was my treat. Don’t worry about it?”

“Are you sure? This place looks really expensive, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to force you to pay…,” you trailed off, clutching your wallet. 

“I’m sure. You’re not forcing me to do anything. I offered, didn’t I?” Ace returned, grinning proudly at you. 

Look at how far he’d come! He was no longer the bumbling teenager that you must have known him for. Now he could take you out to dinner and hold a good conversation with you. Now he could keep your attention without worrying about someone else flattering you or him needing to be a bratty little boy for you to fawn over him.

“Alright. If you insist. You have to let me pay you back in some way though. I’ll take you out for coffee or something next time,” you concluded, putting your wallet away.

Ace shrugged, but the faint smile dancing on his lips told you that he wasn’t opposed to the idea. 

You watched as Ace flagged down a waiter for the check, and you folded your hands in your lap. You observed him, admiring the man you had been so close to in your youth.

If you closed your eyes, you could conjure up the memories from ten years ago. Ace to you had always been a naughty but sweet boy, sort of like a little brother you could tease and pamper. He would always sprint through the hallways, with your name falling from his lips like a spell, calling out for you to spoil him in some way. Whether it was for you to fawn over the new shoes he bought or for you to check out a new card trick he had mastered, you never went a day at Night Raven College without Ace being glued to your side and begging for your validation in some way, shape or form.

But now, Ace was more than that. From just a physical standpoint, he had changed a lot. The Ace in front of you now was tall, handsome, well-groomed, and confident. You could barely believe that the young man having dinner with you was the same teenager who trailed after you like a little puppy. His fiery red hair was styled and well-maintained, his smile was energetic yet still snarky, and he had the kind of looks that would make anyone swoon easily with a well-timed wink and a few words.

What surprised you the most was how he had changed as a person though. Ace was still Ace, no matter what, and you could easily make out the bits of him that you had known. But despite that, he was more laidback and easygoing now. He kept up with your banter easily, whereas his younger version would have pouted and clung to your arms. It felt like you were actually talking with someone your own age, and if you felt daring, even flirting with him accordingly.

Oh.

Oh.

You blanched. ‘Am I… Am I falling for him….?’

You shook your head rapidly, physically driving the thoughts out of your mind. Ace raised an eyebrow and looked at you quizzically from across the table, finishing up his business with the waiter. He reached across and placed an arm on your wrist, peering up at your face with a worried expression.

“You alright?”

You blinked rapidly, forcing a casual smile to your face. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that. Just had a little moment.”

He stared at your face for a bit longer, and you forced the newfound nervousness back down. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, observing every fine detail of your face before he pulled his face and arm away from you, nodding slowly. “If you insist… Let me know if you feel weird though. Wouldn’t want to have you fainting on me or anything.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” you insisted, flashing him a thumbs-up as if to prove it. “I know how to handle myself well enough.”

“If you insist.” He got up from his seat, pushing it back into the table. He extended a hand towards you. “Shall we get out of here then? I’m feeling pretty full, and the night’s still young. Do you wanna walk around Sage’s Island for a bit and take a trip down memory lane?”

You slipped your hand shyly into his, letting him help you out of your seat. You hastily shoved it back where it was, eagerly taking your place by his side. You wondered if the new, fluttering rhythm of your heart came from excitement from meeting an old friend or from anticipation of getting to know this new man next to you.

“I wonder what new things there must be here. I feel like I’m opening doors to a new world just by talking to you; I can’t imagine what must have changed here as well,” you admitted, leaning your head against his arm as he escorted you out of the restaurant. The thought that the two of you must look like a couple slipped across your mind, and you dwelled on it for a second before pushing it away.

You valued Ace too much to get caught up in your own romantic daydreams. You wanted to learn about him more, meet him again, see the kind of person he grew up into, rather than force some romanticized version onto him.

You were happy, just as you were, with him.

“Why don’t we go find out for ourselves?” He asked, breaking you from your thoughts. 

His hand rested on the door, ready to leave the restaurant and back onto the mysterious Sage’s Island that brought the two of you together. 

“Shall we?”

x