#not out of respect to her out of respect to myself

[st4rtar0t]

Describing your love trope with your future spouse as a writer

Pick a picture

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LONG POST AHEAD!

Pictures belong to their rightful owners, I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

Arranged blind date

I stared at my reflection, the dress clinging to my frame in a way that was both flattering and unfamiliar. It had been months since I’d worn anything other than sweatpants and old t-shirts. My heart pounded as I thought about the evening ahead. What had I let Emma talk me into?

“Trust me, y/n,” she had said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You deserve someone who treats you right. This guy is perfect for you.”

I wanted to believe her. After all, Emma knew me better than anyone. She had seen me through the worst of my relationship with Adam, watched as I shrank into myself, convinced I was unworthy of love and respect. She had been my rock when I finally walked away.

Now, she was determined to help me move on, even if it meant dragging me into the world of blind dates.

“You look stunning,” Emma said, stepping into my bedroom. Her smile was warm and reassuring. “And you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. “What if he’s... I don’t know, another Adam?”

Emma shook her head firmly. “He’s not. Trust me. I’ve known him for years. He’s kind, funny, and he’s been through his own share of heartbreak. You two will understand each other.”

Taking a deep breath, I followed Emma out the door and into her car. As she drove, I gazed out the window, my mind a swirl of anxiety and hope. The city lights blurred past, a cacophony of life that felt distant and unreal.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals. Emma squeezed my hand. “He’s waiting at table five. Go on, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

As I approached table five, I saw him. He was looking down at his menu, but there was something about him that immediately put me at ease. He had an air of quiet confidence, and when he looked up and our eyes met, he smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes, genuine and warm.

“y/n?” he asked, standing up and offering his hand.

I took it, surprised by how natural it felt. “Yes. And you must be Michael.”

He nodded, his grip gentle yet reassuring. “It’s really nice to meet you. Emma’s told me a lot about you.”

I laughed nervously, taking my seat. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” he said, his eyes twinkling with kindness. “She’s very fond of you.”

As we started talking, I found myself relaxing. Michael was easy to talk to, his sense of humor lightening the mood. He shared stories about his work as a graphic designer, his passion for painting, and his dog, Max, who sounded like a real character.

“So, Emma tells me you’re quite the photographer,” he said, his tone genuinely interested.

I blushed slightly. “I dabble. It’s just a hobby, really.”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty talented,” he replied. “Maybe you could show me some of your work sometime?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d like that.”

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was enjoying myself. Michael was attentive, respectful, and genuinely interested in what I had to say. It was a stark contrast to the indifference and criticism I had grown accustomed to with Adam.

As we said our goodbyes, Michael looked at me with a hopeful expression. “I had a great time tonight, y/n. Can we do this again sometime?”

I smiled, feeling a lightness in my heart. “I’d like that very much, Michael.”

As I walked back to Emma, who was waiting with a knowing smile, I realized something. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to open my heart again. And maybe this time, I’d find the love and respect I truly deserved.

⁠—⁠☆

Emma hugged me as soon as I reached her. “See? Told you it would be fine.”

I hugged her back, gratitude welling up in my chest. “Thank you, Emma. For everything.”

She grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

And for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future.

Picture 2

Friends to lovers

I stood outside y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. The city was quiet tonight, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk. I had been here countless times, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was about to change.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Almost immediately, I heard her footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and there she was, her smile lighting up the entire hallway.

“Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let me pass.

I walked in, my heart pounding in my chest. “Hey, y/n. Thanks for having me over.”

We settled on her couch, the same spot where we’d shared countless conversations, laughter, and even tears over the years. She handed me a cup of tea, her eyes sparkling with the warmth I had come to cherish.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, taking a sip of her own tea. “You sounded a bit urgent on the phone.”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized just how much she meant to me. Her kindness, her strength, her infectious laugh—all the little things that made her who she was. It hit me like a tidal wave. I was in love with her. I always have been.

“y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

She set her cup down, her expression turning serious. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “y/n, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “I am your best friend. I will always be there for you no matter what happens. Now tell me, what is bothering you?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment. “But that’s the thing. I don’t just see you as my best friend anymore. Somewhere along the way, my feelings changed. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, there was a silence that felt like an eternity. My heart was in my throat, fear and hope battling within me.

“oh…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I pressed on, needing her to understand. “I know this might come as a shock, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I had to tell you. I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you is just friendship.”

Her eyes searched mine, and I saw tears forming. Panic surged through me. Had I made a terrible mistake?

But then she smiled, a radiant, beautiful smile that took my breath away. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long.”

Relief washed over me like a flood. “You... you have?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’ve loved you for years. I was just too scared to tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You’ll never lose me, y/n. You’re everything to me.”

She leaned into my touch, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. “I love you.”

The words were like music to my ears. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I love you too, y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

We sat there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. All that mattered was this moment, the love we had finally confessed, and the promise of a future together.

As I held her, I realized something. Love had been right in front of me all along, in the form of my best friend. And now that I had found it, I was never letting go.

Picture 3

Opposites attract

I watched him from across the room, the way he moved with such effortless grace and confidence. The party was in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air, but all I could focus on was Ethan. He was the epitome of extroversion, charming everyone around him with his easy smile and quick wit.

I, on the other hand, was more comfortable in the shadows, observing rather than participating. I preferred a good book to a loud party, a quiet evening at home to a night out on the town. Yet, here I was, drawn to someone who was my complete opposite in every way.

Ethan caught my eye and waved, making his way over to me. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling inside me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Why are you hiding over here all alone?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just taking a break from all the excitement.”

He laughed, a rich, contagious sound. “You know, you’re the only person I know who comes to a party to take a break from it.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on things from the sidelines.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark I was starting to adore.

“Sure,” I said, surprised by how much I wanted him to stay.

We sat down on the edge of the patio, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded house. For a moment, we just sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

“You know, Y/N,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “I’ve always admired how you can just... be. You don’t need all this noise and attention to feel happy.”

I looked at him, surprised by his honesty. “And I’ve always admired how you can light up a room just by walking into it. You make everything look so easy.”

He smiled, a softer, more genuine smile than I’d seen before. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. Sometimes, it feels like I’m just playing a role. But with you... I feel like I can be myself.”

My heart swelled at his words. “I feel the same way, Ethan. With you, I don’t feel like I have to hide.”

We continued talking, sharing pieces of ourselves we hadn’t revealed to anyone else. I told him about my love for painting, how it was my way of expressing emotions I couldn’t put into words. He opened up about his fear of being alone, how he surrounded himself with people to avoid facing his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we fit together in a way that felt right. His outgoing nature balanced my introversion, his confidence bolstered my shyness, and his warmth melted my reservations.

Ethan reached out, taking my hand in his. His touch was gentle, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Y/N, I know we’re different, but I can’t help how I feel. Being with you makes me want to be better, to be more.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. “I feel the same way, Ethan. You make me feel... alive, like anything is possible.”

He leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “So, what do you say we give this a try? Us, I mean. I know it won’t always be easy, but I think it could be something amazing.”

I smiled, my heart full of hope and excitement. “I’d like that, Ethan. I’d like that a lot.”

As he pulled me into a gentle embrace, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected connections can be the most beautiful. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we were falling for each other, and I couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take us.

[cazzyf1]

An Article about Lella Lombardi - Nobody makes jokes about women drivers around Lella Lombardi

The sleek Lola T-332 racing car crossed the starting line at the river side, Calif, Grand Prix, hurtled ahead of three cars, and swooped back inside with split-second timings.

"You mean that's really a girl?" Muttered three times indianapolis 500 winner A. J. Foyt, looking on in incredulously from the side liners.

For Lella Lombardi, the first woman in 17 years (and the second ever) to compete on high performance Formula One circut - the big leagues of professionals auto racing - the question is all but invetable. What in the world is a nice Italian girl like Lella doing in overalls and a crash helmet, risking her life at speeds close to 200 miles an hour?

"That's what mama keeps asking me," says the tomboyish 31-year-old Lella, "I guess she thinks I should be home with a good husband and a houseful of bambini."

It was obvious from the beginning, to Lella at least, that she was cut from different cloth compared to most girls. Born in the little Piedmontese village of Furgarolo, she was hooked on auto racing before she was out of diapers.

"The first I remember, I am perhaps 4 or 5 years old," she recalls, "I was making little cars from things I found in my mum's sewing box. When I was 8 I decided I shall be a racing driver. I didn't say anything but I made up my mind."

As a teenager Lella raced motorcycles with boys in her village. The boys were scandalized she beat them - their mothers that she was racing at all. Eventually the village priest came to call.

"He explained why I should be like a girl and what a girl must do," she remembers. "So I told him, 'yes father' but all the time I am thinking why am I not allowed to do as I want."

Nothing if not persistent, Lella saw her first race at 18. Five years later she brought a car of her own, secondhand, Formula Monza 500 that she tinkered with and drove in races herself. Last year, nearly after a decade of coming up through the ranks, she was approached by March Racing Ltd, of England which was looking for a driver for its two-man Grand Prix team.

"Formula 2, Formula 3, Formula 5000 - I raced in them all," says Lella, "I win a lot in Italy - six times women's champion. So when March comes to ask me to try out for them, I say to myself, 'Why not?'"

March's decision to hire her was hardly made lightly. A single Grand Prix car costs $100,000 and putting it through a season of racing costs several hundred thousand dollars more.

"Putting a woman into a Grand Prix cockpit means shattering a lot of tradition," acknowledges March team manager, Max Mosley. "Of course, my wild told me, the only reason I was hesitating was because of Lella's sex, no doubt about her skill, in the end, I guess my wife was right."

Now prepping for this Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Lella is given little chance of winning a race this season (although she finished a respectable sixth in last week's accident-shorter Spanish Grand Prix) since March is designing its cars. Some drivers perhaps disturbed by Lella's invasion of their male peserve, doubt the chunky, 5"2, Lombardi has the stamina for long-distance racing. But March chief Roy Wardell, was watching her during a gruelling test of the company's racers, disagrees.

"Thrasing a car about it bloody hard work," he says, "most male drivers would have been bitching and complaining but she drove more than 300 miles flat out without a whimper." Her main fault, says Wardell, is a rookie's understandable caution. "Lella is still a bit afraid that if she spins out everyone will say, 'see a woman driver'" he says, "but her confidence is building. Pretty soon she'll be mixing it up with the best of them."

[veninorchid]

Bridgerton S3 Review

Dearest gentle reader, I am disappointed, sadly.

And as I respect your opinion, so too, shall you respect mine. I'm not here to bash on #Polin fans and the fact that they enjoyed it, but what -was- season 3 of Bridgerton truly?

I love the Mondriches, but do they really need so much screen-time? What did their own ball add to the story exactly? Had the same feeling about the Dankworth-Finch ball at the end, but at least that one proved its necessity as -the reveal all- ball. Because there was of course no Duke of Hastings (Simon) to host it, so they improvised.

This season had too many stories going on at the same time which were all fighting for the spotlight when it should've focused on #Polin, cause that is what was advertised/hyped. It did not deliver…

Season 1 - Daphne and Simon They had the most screen-time and all other stories got a little bit of shine. But even then some of those had either Daphne or Simon in the picture/background. (Marina-Colin, with Daphne as chaperone is one of the examples) None of the other stories distracted from the main focus.

Season 2 - Kanthony Same here. While there was a lot going on in this season with Anthony courting Edwina and going all the way to the alter with her (creative license, since it didn't happen in the book) and then on the other hand we were seeing the other side with his having the thickest desire and longing for Kate. You could cut that shit with a knife, I tell you. But no side stories were overpowering. It was 90% lead character -stuff. Season 3 - Benedict---, I mean #Polin -minus the actual #Polin Were their (the directors/screenwriters) initial thoughts that we've been seeing them for 2 seasons, so we don't have to pay that much attention to the leads? Wrong! That was friendship, this is love, longing and passion. So much new ground to explore for these two. Little scenes like dancing in the church, stealing loving glances is cute and all, but we got nothing more than that. Nothing memorable.

No wait, we got carriage frolicking in part 1 and a mirror first time in part 2. You're right, I apologize. Anything else? Name any other thing you remember from this whole season. I'll wait, seriously.

Did maybe the night scene come up in your memories? Where they had an angry make out and he once again let his hand venture below? I felt the anger/passion in the coming together and pushing her against the shop, sure. The quick flash of him reaching between her thighs was more of a recycled scene from episode 4 or even from S03 Kanthony. I mean honestly. Was there really even a chance he'd take her in the streets? It felt unnecessary and forced. The dialogue was good and would've been better at their home where it's believable they could enter an intimate scene that -could- be finished if they so wanted it. Or not if his anger won over his desire. Did I mention they were both drinking before they met? I didn't say drunk, I said drinking.

I guess they improvised the whole Mme Delacroix scene (before the angry make out) with her offering advice and booze just to give Pen a reason to drink and coincidentally be in Colin's path for the scene? Wasted screen-time. Do I also need a drink to feel the -love- this season?

First part, Colin helping and chasing Pen. Second part, let's ignore and distance myself from her. They really stretched out Colin's pulling back from her because of the whole Whistledown thing, when they could've done fast forwards, saying things like 'Colin, it's been weeks. Or it's been so long, can we get passed this' just to show the time frame. But instead we get long minutes of silence and ignoring each other. Filming Colin from the back, zooming in. Then from the front zooming in. Then him watching her leave the house, slowly getting up from sleeping on the sofa, walking towards his desk. Lifting and opening and reading her old letters. Do you have any idea how long that feels? When she exited the bedroom and delivered her dialogue he could've already been behind his desk. Did we see Simon (S01E02) walk into the room, open his father's desk, take out the unopened letters etc.? No, the flashback ends with him already seated and holding the letters. Same thing could've been done here.

Oh, let's not forget side character-stuff. Let's talk more about that.

Again, I cannot stress it enough. Mondriches. Duke of Kent stuff and moving up, is fine. Seeing them struggle constantly onscreen is not. Wasted screen-time. You can easily have us hear about that in conversation. How miserable and sad he is because he had to close the bar when he became part of the ton. So many ways to handle that. Moving to part 2. Why did we have to get the whole preparation for their ball? What did it add to the story exactly? Just let everyone arrive at the ball and let that be the first we all see of the decorations. Did we see Lady Danbury prepare for the huge conservatory ball in S2? Lady Trowbridge's ball in S1? All of Her Majesty's balls? No, so it was wasted screen-time.

Francesca's story was sweet, bless her, but also unnecessary detailed. Was it the autism angle they were trying to push forward? I'm all for it, but only when you have a series with more than 8 episodes. (God, I miss 22 episode series) Because she is still a side character in #Polin's book, no matter which way you turn it. At Francesca's wedding we had the whole vows scene and everything and the two LEADS!!!! were stealing glances at each other while standing behind the whole ass family. You're the leads, act like it! It felt like S1 and S2 with them being in the background.

We all know Bridgerton's known for taking liberties with the wardrobe. The tailored waists for Pen enhance her body beautifully, but Cressida's wardrobe is bordering… scratch that! has taken a 250 MPH free-fall, into ridiculousness. I also absolutely did not care for -seeing- the reasons behind Cressida claiming to be Whistledown. Should've just kept her as a bitch. That's what we enjoyed about her. Fine, you decided on that development for her character, so here's an idea. She was so chummy with Eloise. Could've just had her tell Eloise that she was being pressured by her parents to marry and then being send to the country to live with a horrid aunt. Wasted screen-time. You only have 8 episodes to work with for crying out loud.

And then there's the side character of all side-characters. Benedict. Didn't they make the very -deliberate- decision to push back Benedict and Sophie's story in favor of #Polin as S3? To then give me so much useless Bentilly sexy time; Time that could've easily been given to #Polin things. If you can make up stories about him being confused as to his sexuality, you can just as easily come up with new, none book, stories for the actual leads. Could've left everything they forced on us about Benedict for his actual season. What's gonna be left for his own season? Wasted screen-time. Should've made him absent, continue the art-school in the background, anything. I mean, an extended honeymoon for Kanthony instead of a forced story to have them onscreen. Do the bloody same for Benedict and focus on #Polin. Every time we saw Benedict, he was playing twister with Tilly and later with what's his name (don't even care) It's not relevant, it's wasted screen-time.

I'm gonna end my review (rant!) with one last thing.

Shallow kisses. Heck it's acting, so you don't have to shove your tongue down your co-actor's throat, but keep your lips open and hollow out your mouth to at least make us think you're playing tongue-twister. As soon as their lips touched, they closed their mouths and it became a fervent peck-fest. Like kissing air and practicing in front of a mirror. Yes, they look good kissing each other, but the kissing itself was bleh.

First kiss in part 1 was going the right direction and was pretty believable, but after that… shallow as f*ck. And to think they were supposed to be increasing in passion after that first kiss. All of them were closed-mouth pecks, I'm sorry. Was it the height-difference that didn't allow them to actually suck each other's face off? ---------------

I will not do a TL;DR, because if you skip this review/rant, you will not have missed anything. Have a great day people.

Yours truly, Venin Orchid (aka Lady Regency-nerd) PS: did anyone notice the nice touch at the end? The Whistledown Silhouetted lady on the top of the page had been changed to look more like Penelope. You're welcome <3

[strawberryblondebutch]

So I read Britta Curl's apology.

Emphasis on read, because no way in hell am I listening to that whole thing with my shitty auditory processing. So please acknowledge that this means I'm potentially missing out on tonal cues and body language.

I don't think she's changed. A good apology recognizes what you've done wrong and how you'll improve in the future. She seems to think that her posts are the problem, not the beliefs that motivated said posts. Her improvement plan is to "grow in humility, and grow in love." I'm not sure where most marginalized groups would rank that in their restorative justice plans.

Even if the apology's content is lackluster, the fact it exists is good. That Curl felt she needed to say something, for her own and the league's reputation, means she knows that eyes are on her. There are degrees of harm in public figures. Among baseball players, you can trace a line down from Curt Schilling (actual Breitbart personality) to Jason Adam (refused to wear a pride cap in a game) to Brad Hand (likes Trump tweets on Twitter in silence). I have no respect for the beliefs Hand's social media activity suggests that he has, but he's not saying on the record that being gay is a bad lifestyle choice, nor is he tweeting about how awesome that Capitol riot was. My personal respect may be nonexistent, but Hand's actions are less directly harmful.

I would love if Britta Curl changed her beliefs. I don't engage in moral Puritanism. I believe that people can change, and I want them to. If she came out with an apology tomorrow where she said, "I understand that my words and actions have hurt members of the trans and Black communities, and here are the steps I am taking to understand why this is so harmful so that I can improve, I would support her. But that's not what happened.

Whether we like it or not, this shit does matter. Arguably, it matters even more in women's sports. I don't like it. I would love if the WNBA, PWHL, or any other league were one where you could shut up and play, and you weren't expected to be a role model for young girls everywhere (which, that's a rant all of its own). But at the end of the day, you can't cater who you are to a hypothetical ideal. You have to cater it to the world that you're in. And yeah, that sucks.

The increased scrutiny on female athletes will always affect marginalized groups more. I'm not going to speak too much on racism in the WNBA, because I don't consider myself an expert on it (I'm only a casual basketball fan, no matter the gender), but I've seen the scrutiny leveled on Angel Reese compared to Caitlin Clark. I also remember Hilary Knight being fucking terrified to come out as queer because of all the outside pressure on her. Having to hide what you believe is different than hiding what you are.

She's not going to get top-six minutes this coming season, and the discourse is going to be insufferable. Yeah, Curt Schilling's a terrible human being, and although his beliefs got worse after retirement, he was an outspoken conservative when he won the 2004 World Series. Compare that to Trevor Bauer, whose shooters claim that he's being blacklisted by the Woke Mob, when he's really just... not a good pitcher, and he's also managed to piss off every manager he's ever had. Britta Curl will not be one of the six best players on Minnesota unless something goes terribly wrong - she's not a better center than Heise or Pannek, and she's not a good enough sniper to move to the wing. The worst people you know will claim she's being punished for her beliefs, because they do not understand how sports work. Block and move on.

It is still very funny that she blocked me on Twitter. Block and move on goes both ways, but I didn't tag her in the post or anything, which means she name searches.

Once again, if you read this far, please consider giving to Prevention Point or Savage Sisters. Harm reduction is important. Those two organizations are why I'm still alive, and the city of Philadelphia wants addicts to die.

[wingzoffeather]

I think one of the unexpected themes, for me, that came from part 2 of season 3, was the focus on the more contentious ways moms can be confronted with the burgeoning independence of their young-adult daughters. Of being confronted BY their daughters, now that they understand themselves better, and have found their voice. Nobodies perfect. And this season really put a microscope on the Ton's mamas. How they are dealing with their own personal stuff, and how that spills over onto their daughters. How they are doing their best, try to do good by their daughters, the only way they now how. They are flawed. And we see 3 different outcomes: Mrs Cowper & Cressida: Cressida seems to have lost all faith in her mom. She seems prepared to cut ties with her completely, once she sees Mrs. Cowper has no intention of actively going to bat for her, against her dad or the Ton's gossip mill, beyond surface-level social scheming. Mrs. Cowper cares for her daughter, but values her own self-preservation more. "I no longer trust any one but myself"

Portia & Penelope: After years of Portia scrambling to keep the family financially afloat and respected (with & without her dead-beat husband) while overlooking who Penelope is and what she's capable of. And Penelope hiding the spoils of her secret enterprise while publically taking digs at the family's reputation.... they had some painfully honest and vulnerable discussions. And their relationship is on the mend, with a newfound understanding and respect. The whole Featherington clan is healing and starting to interact with each other in healthier ways. Violet & Francesca: Francesca finally has her vice heard. She confronts Violet about her tendency to project her personal experience with romantic love onto her kids' love-lives & calls her out for minimizing her relationship with John, just cuz it doesn't vibe the way Violet's did with Edmund. All miss-understandings and insecurities about their bond as mother & daughter are resolved and they are happy.

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

14. Let's Get High and Fuck

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead @giggle-shade

Walking along the sandy land all I could do was ponder on these distracting feelings. The heat on the back of my neck as we walk makes me tense. His eyes are addictive to look at, but when I give in and allow myself to gaze his way, I can not stand the pounding of my heart. The ghost of a memory unknown in my mind. So many memories were lost through the years of my torture. (Y/n), Melody, back and forth battling for space. I hadn't thought of myself in a long time. My body aches as I remember the special moments of her life... of my life.

The Ghoul's coughs caught my attention. He stops in his tracks bringing his canteen up to his mouth, the droplets landing in a large collection of radiated water in a round barrel. Lucy pants as she watches his actions. Her tongue projecting, begging for her to break. Just for a simple sip.

He dips his canteen into the puddle collecting the water. Lucy stumbles over and kneels next to the barrel. She dips her hand into the water and begins scooping it into her mouth. I can't say it wasn't satisfying to see her struggle. The closest I could get to hurting Henry MacLean was her, and that was just peachy at the moment.

The Ghoul nods as Lucy drinks the dirty water. "Now you're getting it." Lucy shakes as she gulps more of the water. The Ghoul tilts his head at her, "How does that Golden Rule jibe with what's going through your head right now?" Lucy glares at him, "What are you?" He smirks, "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. You just give it a little time." He spits up in a coughing fit once more, this time very powerful. He hunches over turning away from Lucy and I.

We make eye contact, a single choice, a 50 50 shot. Or if it went well, we could both get away. I nod once, and with that, we both sprint off in different directions. I race into a building shielding myself behind a wall, being able to peek out of the window near my head. I hear the scuffle of Lucy getting captured. I run my hands through my hair processing a plan. Did I need this shit? I was comfortable in my little bar singing for stupid drunk wastelanders who tipped well. Revenge smelt so sweet, but it wasn't worth getting severely damaged over. Eseshellay now that my trusted maintenance assistant is fucking dead.

The crunch of their steps stops, and I wait, shotgun posted up and aimed at the door. It was silent and my hopes raised. I lower my gun and sigh, I had done it. Just as I pass the open window, a loop straps around my middle. I look down in shock, before following the rope to its wielder. The Ghoul tightens his grip on me with one tug, he makes me tumble out of the window. I hit the sand with a thud, my arm breaking the fall, and the arm breaking in the process. The Ghoul pulls me back to him, "Where the fuck you think you goin'? Huh? Been long enough, honey. Ain't letting you go for shit." He mumbles lowly as he straddles me, his knees clasping against my hips.

That burning in my chest begins again, the slow ignite of the flame heats my body. My core aching with a certain want that has been disregarded for years. He grounds his hips down as he rips my hands up, my one arm limply in his grasp. He looks at it with a certain sliver of care. He quickly flips me over, my back facing him. He bends my arms back, takes my wrist, and ties them together tightly. I couldn't control the small whimper that left my lips. The small noise had a large effect on the Ghoul as I could feel a growing hardness in his pants. I stare up over my shoulder with wide eyes, surely shocked. He smirks down at me, "Shit, darlin', you think I could keep it down for you?"

He hauls me up and pushes me forward with Lucy. I shrug at her, a sad sorry defeat. My hands are still tied behind my back and my arm is still broken as I travel through the sand. The building coming into view makes my insides uneasy. I look at the Ghoul with panic. He doesn’t look my way, too distracted by his own determination to keep going.

We pass through a fence, the three of us walking up to the intercom. I look down in defeat. At least I would finally die. They would take my heart, the only lifeline I had. I could finally rest. I could finally be with my Cooper. The Ghoul presses the red button, "Transaction." Seconds later the attendant, answers, "Yes?"

"Two-month supply of vials. Exchange one female. Near mint condition." One? I look up to meet the Ghoul's eyes. His hazel eyes were so warm. His gaze comforting in the situation of life and death. The attendant voices again oulling his gaze away from me. "Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in." The lock buzzes, allowing the doors to open. Lucy stares into the dark building, "What's in there?" The Ghou pulls out his gun and aims it at Lucy, "You're about to find out." "You're selling me?" Lucy looks at me, tears in her eyes. "(Y/n), please." I look away at the sound of my name. I couldn't do anything, if this Ghoul was keeping me around, I had another day promised to live. I wasn't going to give up the chance to return home. I meet her eyes, sorrow in mine, "You can't always be a good guy out here, Lucy. I'm sorry." She stares at me with wide eyes, anger and panic in her gaze. The Ghoul pushes her roughly, "You got problems out here, too. Best you try your luck behind that door." She stumbles on, advancing through the doors leaving the Ghoul and I in silence.

He looks down at me, blinking heavily. He swallows dryly, a low wheeze in his lungs, and topples to the dirt motionless. What a convenient thing to happen to allow me to escape...

I don't take a second thought as I run away, tracking our previous steps. My heart beat quickly, yet a smile was not on my face. I was going home. I should be happy... right? I stop running and lean against a crumbling brick building. I rest my head on the wall, closing my eyes. My head hurts as memories flash through my mind. Unwilling I am made to see the most happy moments replaying. Most of them Cooper and I. The early mornings making breakfast and sipping coffee as he makes jokes. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of hazel. They would always light up when he saw me. I could tell he was truly happy when we were together. The truth always held in his orbs. I could always see the threads weaving his soul through his orbs.

I missed his eyes the most...

His eyes...

His fucking eyes...

"Oh fuck..." I push myself off the wall and sprint back in the direction I just came from. Half a mile away a stampede of Ghouls is running in scattered directions, rushing past me paying no mind. I push myself harder. If he were to die without knowing... Without me finding out if he could be...

The entrance of the building came into view, but no Ghoul on the ground. So, that was a good sign. No Lucy either...

I walk into the door, the scatter of glass bottles and heavy panting can be heard the closer I get to the middle of the store. The Ghoul hunched over the coffee table, digging into the supply box, scooping several vials and bottles of pills into his hat.

It had to be him. That or someone just decided to jack Cooper Howard's closet after the bombs dropped. "You feeling better?" The Ghoul whips around, his hand automatically grasping for his gun at his hip. A sly smile working on my lips. I look over his body, the long duster coat shielding most of him, but I can still imagine. "Looks like it anyway." The Ghoul tilts his head, a light grumble rising from his chest. "What are you doing here?" I walk towards him, looking down at him as he stays on his knees. A sight I could've only imagined until now.

"Not much I can do with my hands tied behind my fucking back, and a broken arm can I?" I turn around, pressing my ass closer to him, twisting my bound wrists. "If you don't mind." He grants my request, cutting the rope. One arm falling limply to my side, still broken. I'll have to work on that...

"Thanks," I walk around him, taking a seat on the couch, I kick the dead body off the cushion beside me before lifting my legs to rest. The Ghoul tracks my movement with his eyes. His questioning orbs stare into mine directly. Who was going to break first? Did he remember me? Was he even him? I look down at the powder on the shard of a mirror. "You going to take that?" He slides it over the table with a grumble, "Not much fucking use without a nose, sweetheart." I giggle as I quickly snort the line. I tip my head back as the drugs burn in my brain and existing nerves. I was thankful this was one of the effects I could still enjoy. A good habit? Fuck no, but this was the wasteland. Had to do something to numb reality.

I looked back to the Ghoul and I could see him. A smile on his face as he watches me, unable to hide the warmth I provide his soul. "I kinda dig the whole no-nose thing." He tilts his head, "A ghoul kinda girl, huh?" I shrug avoiding his eyes. "Maybeee."

I lean up and dig into the box of various drugs. Pulling out some chems and pills I smirk at him. "You wanna party a little?" He raised his hairless brow, "Shit, I ain't saying no to a good time."   

I snort a line and knock on the table as I feel the numbness swell in my body. After a bottle of liquor, several pills, and a rolled joint the Ghoul and I were both slumped on the couch. I cough as I pass the joint to him, the parallel in the universe replaying.

“Good shit, isn’t it, darlin’?” I agree as I stand to my feet. I look at myself in a mirror. I was built to perfection, not a hair out of place, nor a smudge of makeup. I watch him look over my frame in the mirror. He meets my gaze and locks in. "I had a life before all this shit. A good life." He watches me intensely in the mirror. "I was a fucking star. You think this here is something, you should've seen me back then." His lips tug in a small smile, he blinks slowly as if imagining my words. "I was engaged too. That actor from the movie poster. Cooper Howard. Fine mother fucker. I'm telling you." The smile on the Ghoul grew even more. I was playing with his ego, one thing Cooper Howard was fond of. Clearly, nothing had changed that much.

"I just have one question for you." I turn around, facing him, beginning to stalk his way. I waltz towards him, playing a game of cat and mouse. I wanted him to break first. I stop in front of him, his eyes gazing into me. His hat was still abandoned on the table, now empty with the supply stashed in the saddle bag. I see a single corner of a photo tucked into the band of the hat. Our photo. I take the hat between my fingers, plucking the photo out of the band. I place the hat on my head and press a hand onto the Ghoul's shoulder, pushing him back onto the couch. I stare into his eyes, traveling into his soul. He's lived for too long, in search of me. When I breathed, so did he.

I hold up the picture for his viewing. He switches his gaze from the photo to my orbs. I lean in closer, our faces exchanging the same oxygen. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid, Cooper?" His eyes are closed as I speak his name, a breathe leaving his dry lips. I place a hand on his wrinkled cheek, resting our heads together. His ungloved hands claw at my clothes, pulling me into his lap. I melt into him, merging into his frame, getting as close as we could. I nuzzle into him, our foreheads still together. I wrap my arm around his neck, "I thought you were dead." His grip on my jacket was so tight I could hear the seams fighting to stay sewn shut. Cooper looks up at me, with an undying smirk. "Well, darlin' you did say you'd wait 200 years to love me. Can't hate me for taking that literally." I lean into our lips just an inch apart. I ghost over them before pulling back with a smug smirk, making him chase me.

"You ain’t runnin’ from me." He grabs the back of my head, pulling me flush against him in a heated kiss. Needy and rushed as he clawed at my clothes. The jacket was long removed, and my pants slid down my legs with haste. Cooper lowers himself near my legs. He pulls them apart just an inch before I shut them. It had been so long, that I was nervous in the simplest way to say it. He didn’t like that, shoving his hands between my thighs and splitting them apart with ease, pushing them far enough to make me wince from the stretch. 

He tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of my underwear and ripped them free, the poor thin fabric never stood a chance. The cool air hit my exposed flower like a slap, showing my needy cunt to him above. His fingers daringly intruded my slit, thick and rough against my warm, velvet skin. Bucking my hips to free myself only made his pleasure that much easier, his fingers easily welcomed into my soaked walls. Cooper rests his head against my knee, placing several kisses and nips at the skin. “Spread your legs, baby, that’s it… Wider.” I moan as his fingers dig deeper, curing my most sensitive glands.

My body was beyond harmonizing with my mind for once. It was all a perfect world when Cooper was around. The blissful sensation dawning upon my body was a rush of warmth deep in my belly. It coiled in my gut like a constricting snake. I shutter, fighting against Cooper to close my legs. He holds them open, his eyes glued to my pussy as he pumps his fingers in and out. "That's it, you're taking my fingers so well, honey. Such a good girl." I archer up for him, pulling him closer. I had to have him.

He sank onto me, our mouths meeting with a passionate kiss. He ground into my frame. He was already rock-hard. I ran a hand over his chest, leading it to his pants, unbuttoning them in a rush. The bulge straining against the fabric finally released, revealing him.

I widen my eyes in shock. He had grown surely! He was certainly girthy; veins spidering along the length, tracing to the bulbous red tip, a pearl of pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock. He meets my orbs, cares appearing in secret. He whispers in a calm voice, "Is this okay?" I nod, "Please, Coop. Please."

He wasted no time, he plunged himself in, my body giving no resistance. I winced initially, my walls stretching almost uncomfortably to accommodate his width, filling you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice nearly stuttering. “So damn tight.” He pulled back and slammed his hips forward, sending forth a wave of absolute knee-trembling ecstasy.

I was a moaning mess, sprawling on the couch, clinging to him as if he could slip away. "You feel so good!" I swore out loud, my body melting within his hold. my back arched, head tilted to sing my pleasure to him.

He’d snaked his fingers to my center, fiddling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. I hardly could comprehend the second build of the release. With a few quick strokes, the coil wound deep sprung, manifesting as a scream.

Cooper’s lips were quick to find my own, swallowing the outlet of my pleasure. He dragged his fingertips in conjunction with his thrusts, wringing my orgasm to the last drip. He relented once satisfied.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” he grunted in between heated kisses, moving his hand to grip the arm of the couch, providing more leverage for himself. Without another word, he drove himself even faster and harder. It wasn’t much longer until he pressed deep, a guttural growl resonating within his torso as he released his spend within me. He groans out with his eyes closed.

The stillness encircled the two of us, my heart hammering within my ears almost deafening as it settled. Cooper's frame, shaken slightly from his heavy breathing, straightened up but not before fluttering his lips against mine for another kiss. He pulled out of me, causing me to whine at the loss of feeling.

While tucking himself back into his pants, he grabbed a spare cloth from behind himself to help clean me up. I stare at him as he wipes me clean. He was still the man I loved. He just wore the story of someone who has run through some tough shit. "You're so handsome." Cooper looks up at me with a confused look before he shakes his head and looks away. "Shit, darlin', you need to get your eyes checked." I move quickly, grabbing his face in my hands. "I might even say, you're more sexy now. I am digging this bounty hunter badass. It does it for me." Cooper forces down a laugh, "You're a fuckin' idiot." Where before he could laugh freely, now he pushes it down and remarks with smartass comments, but even I could see past his wasteland bullshit.

[mattslolita]

i'm sure alot of you are well aware about the current situation circulating @/selenascorner.

the very first time i ever spoke to her, selena texted me first on may 10th of this year, sending me the 'blackgirls4chris' picture. she said she loved my page and at the time she saw my post about hateful and racist anons in my friend's inbox. i guess she was trying to cheer me up? i have no idea.

two days later she texted me again checking in on me, which i definitely appreciated and found really sweet of her. we had a conversation about an irl girl she was having problems with, and i was comforting her about it and giving her advice on it. i just wished i could've found out sooner what kind of person she was before i gave my time and energy to someone like her.

on may 16th she texted me first again, asking me how i was and i asked her how she was - she told me she had relapsed again. it was due to another mutual of mine, but i will respect her and not mention who she is due to the fact that her name is currently being dragged thru the mud and she in fact does not deserve this the way selena made me believe. she told me this mutual friend 'traumatized' her because of the decision she chose to no longer talk to selena. my mutual friend made it clear ( from the message selena sent me from their dms ) that she was not intentionally trying to hurt her. selena has triggered my mutual friend because of the things she told her, and my mutual friend said she needed space to protect herself, and rightfully so.

and that's where i come in with my story and experience.

i gave selena my instagram to text me more because i genuinely wanted to be there for her. i should've listened to my friends, because they tell me sometimes i put myself in a bad situation due to me wanting to be there for EVERYONE.

every other day i texted her, she was always telling me how she had attempted, as well as self harm. as someone who used to self harm myself, this was so triggering to me especially with the things i have going on in my own life. but because i know what it's like to have done these things before, i have constantly tried to help her and be by her side no matter what. alot of the time, she made it seem like she couldn't get help no matter how many times i urged her to try. every attempt always ended in a text with her saying no or just completely saying she couldn't get help and nothing would help her. there are so many options to get help for self harm and suicide, and i will provide links at the end of this for any of you out there who have struggled with these same things.

as time went on, i began to feel emotionally drained and helpless about selena. i wasn't sure what to do to help her anymore, yet i still tried my best because i didn't want her to feel like she was alone. but a person can only take in so much shit before they eventually began to break down.

selena had become toxic towards me, and even whilst seeing that i told myself she still deserved a good friend and she just needed reassurance someone would be there for her. about two and a half weeks ago i told all of my friends due to my circumstances of my own situation, i would be inactive on instagram and tumblr because i needed to take time for myself. one day i was able to get back to people and text them. when i texted selena, i apologized for not being as active. she called me selfish, said i only cared about myself and never bothered to try and help her when she needed me.

after everything she had told me and all i tried to do to help her, she called me selfish because i didn't text her back. she has a victim complex as well as toxicity. i felt trapped being her friend at this point, because any thing i said i needed to be careful so it didn't set her off. i should've to my friends after getting their advice on this because she was clearly taking a toll on my mental health. she's scared me multiple times when she told me she had attempted.

i repeatedly told selena that i loved and cared about her so much, yet to no avail. she asked me about a few of my friends one day, asking if they were safe people to talk to. not thinking anything of it, i told her they were because they are. they ended up telling me she had texted each of them, beginning to trauma dump on them as well. i found it mighty fucking fishy that the things she would tell my friends did not always add up to what she talked to me about.

one of my best friends friend in particular experienced this trauma dumping, triggering experience with selena.

my best friend texted me and told me selena had texted her, asking if she could tell her some things. boom, she dumps all these things on her - now i know my best friend, and i know she's not gonna beat around the fucking bush about things and she'll tell you exactly how she feels. my best friend gave selena the best advice she could, telling her that she should seek some type of help. selena responds to her coldy, telling her there was no way she could get help. and rightfully so, my best friend blocked selena. my best friend made it clear to selena that she already had enough negativity in her life and if selena wasn't going to take her advice for trying to help her, she could no longer talk to her anymore.

selena then texts me and tells me how my 'best friend' traumatized her from the way she handled things. i will admit truthfully, i felt bad and i told selena i was so sorry for what happened and that my best friend blocking her wasn't the best way to handle things. but in all honesty? i said that to selena because i didn't want her thinking i was 'choosing sides' because then i felt she'd get mad at me. and i didn't want her to get mad at me. i was so afraid that selena might go off to other people and tell her i acted like my mutual friend i mentioned earlier.

and now after everything that's happened, my best friend was right for blocking her and protecting her peace, as well as my mutual friend no longer wanting to communicate with her. selena proceeded to be angry with me when i told her i understood my best friend's side, because there's always two sides to a story - she made me out to be a bad friend for defending my best friend, going as far as to tell other people about the situation. selena made me feel like i had to either choose her or my best friend, and that's when i decided i was done.

i was tired of the constant guilt she was giving me, making me feel like i was a bad person for how i felt and my decisions. she said i chose my best friend over her, hurting her and saying how she trusted me and how she never judged her. NOT FUCKING ONCE did i ever judge selena for anything she's been through or what she's told me.

i ultimately decided i couldn't keep this toxicity in my life, because she was draining me and all my friends could clearly see she was taking a toll on me. so i decided to tell selena it was not a good idea to be her friend anymore. i told her i still cared about her alot and would love her always, but i couldn't handle it anymore. i made it known that multiple times i wanted to tell her how triggering she could be and how much she's affected me. selena then proceeds to apologize for everything, say she didn't want to lose me as a friend and everything - and me being me, i ended up feeling terrible because i didn't want her to feel alone. but she needed to realize how she made me feel and how toxic our friendship had become.

she sent me one final text, once again making everything about her. she told me the first 'red flag' from me was how i chose my best friend's side over hers even though i made it clear i wasn't 'taking sides'. i left her on read after her final goodbye and her wishing me the best in the future. i felt a huge weight off my shoulders because i had finally rid myself of the clear toxicity i was enduring being friends with her.

now i find out that selena's been dragging my fucking name through the mud, calling me a bad person and making me out to be so terrible to other people. even after everything i had gone through for her, all the times i tried to be there for her, this is what i get for being a fucking people pleaser, wanting to help anybody and everybody.

i don't even want to get into selena sexting minors, because what the actual fuck - i didn't even find out about that until yesterday, and it digusts me. for those of you defending her by saying "oh she's still a minor herself!" so let me ask you this, would you let your eight grade sister / brother date a grown as the fuck senior in high school? because it almost as equivalent to that. and you should be ashamed for defending someone like that.

i encourage anyone who's gone through the same thing as me to immediately notice the signs and cut whoever you cut out of your life, because it can and will negatively affect her. selena has done this to multiple friends of mine and / or multiple people i'm associated with, and they've unfortunately had this same experience with her. nobody deserves to go through this at all, and if you ever want to talk to me about anything or you guys need anything at all, my inbox or pms are open to anyone. and yes, i'm a safe person to come to because i genuinely care about all of you and your wellbeing. please be mindful and safe of the things you say to others, because you could end up having put yourself in a terrible situation because of it.

here are the links to some suicide prevention hotlines for anyone who needs them :

i love you all, please take care of yourselves and be safe on this app!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I've seen my name being thrown around, and I'd like to dot my is and cross my ts on this once and for all.

Gonna preface by saying this:

No one said that glossysoap, groguspicklejar or soapskneebrace told their anons "GO HARRASS THIS RACIST" - that's just, once again, y'all misinterpreting our words. All that was said was "You are a big blog that accidentally created a witch hunt amidst your followers and even though you didn't mean to, you need to realize you still have influence over them, so you need to make amends";

I also made a very big point of pointing out that when soapskneebrace posted those screnshots, they acted as if their blog was an "island" and that it was safe to make a comment like that because they believed it would stay 'contained' within their friend group or followers. And that they should've known better because this is the internet, they're 28, and they should know stuff **doesn't** stay isolated. All things can be accessed.

Another thing I'd like to point out is that soapskneebrace/Madi has admittedly a history of their followers/anons harassing people in their inbox. I don't care that the circumstances are different. They *know* their followers have done such a thing and as a creator (yes, this is not a normal social media, yes, none of us are 'influencers' with proper check marks that make giant moves on the platform, but we all STILL have an influence) they should've known better.

(Their own words below 👇)

I'm sorry for the way I spoke:

Yes, the tone I used was aggressive, cheeky and on-the-offensive and the hashtag I used was in poor taste. I could've handled my **tone** better as well as the way I tried to make my point across. I realize that now once I've had time to cool off and I apologize for the way I spoke.

I recognize that I didn't help the issue by being as aggressive as I did and, in fact, just caused a bigger commotion. That wasn't fair, and the tone I used wasn't nice or helpful.

I'm not a trained psychologist or anything, and I reacted like any normal person should/would, in my opinion. Saw an injustice that was preventable and got upset about it. I promise to thrive to not let my emotions get the better of me, nor to let my tone ever be that aggressive again.

That's not to say that I don't stand for the things I said. I don't take back what I did. I consider myself an honest person... and if nothing else, it would be dishonest of me to go back on my word. I apologize for my tone but not the message.

About Bunny:

That being said, I'd like to point out that half of the blogs currently talking about this topic (specifically @ceilidho and @391780) giving their opinions and sharing it with their followers are doing so behind 'closed doors' (aka by blocking the two of us) and doing exactly the same thing soapskneebrace accidentally did: they are accidentally pinning their followers against us by providing a retelling of events and hoping their followers go read up more on their own, despite knowing they have a huge influence and that people on the internet are not gonna do that, and are just gonna take their word for it.

And frankly I don't think that's fair. I'm not even speaking for myself. I couldn't care less about the abuse coming my way or any boycotting to my future posts or current ones.

I just wish you both/all would stop putting me and bunny in the same category. You wanna get mad at someone? Get mad at me.

Bunny handled this with not just a lot more maturity than me, but also a lot more elegantly. Bunny strived to educate and to speak respectfully and in a way that was informative when she tackled all the creators involved.

If you go read her replies to the blogs in question, they were measured, understanding, respectful, kind and polite. She made sure they understood all she was seeking from them was some form of accountability, and never meant them any harm.

It's not fair that she's being 'lumped' together with me and getting any harrassment or torment over the fact *I* was aggressive, when she wasn't.

She has always, ALWAYS strived to make her blog a positive space, a safe space too. She has always strived to keep people informed and safe, and to tackle topics in her fics that she sees are lacking in the community.

Bunny has plenty of anons who reach out to her to discuss mental health, disability and other topics of the sort because she's trained for it, and now she's not free to open her inbox anymore because people are also spouting abuse at her.

I just want you all to stop going after her. She deserves your admiration, not your hatred.

Again, you need someone to yell at? To get mad at? I'm right here and I can fucking take it.

My inbox and the anon button are not gonna ever close, just so you all still have a place to go yell at me through while keeping your precious anonymity that emboldens you so.

Kind Regards,

Kea

[wouriqueen]

2x06 thoughts - part 3 - Armand & co

He needed a whole section for himself because he's a freak

Masterclass of playing of the victim

"I can't do anything about the coven." "I'm protecting myself from Daniel Molloy." He's so funny and evil. The audacity the manipulation the lies. It's to the point where I might have to subscribe to the idea that he's got to believe some of what he's saying. Otherwise it's too big.

Armand and Claudia

"Thank you for never treating me like a child" + Claudia apologizing to Armand... Despite her fear of being put aside by Louis for Armand, and her resentment at Louis endangering her for the sake of his relationship with Armand, Claudia has always made sure to show respect for Armand and his position. She did her job. She spoke up respectfully. Stuff she didn't even owe him considering he strangled her and threatened to kill her over literally nothing. She went to him to get approval for turning Madeleine. When they meet again with Madeleine and Louis, she apologizes to him for the conflict he went through with the coven, even though that was mainly about Louis, and even though it started way before she even had any idea of turning anyone or going anywhere.

And right after that apology he lets her get kidnapped and killed. Just like her apology to Lestat was met with ugly mockery and eventually assault :(

"She's worth having" not the objectification.

"You'll come together again" (about Louis and Claudia) I know he believed that and I know that's why he let her die. Because he didn't want that. I know it.

"It's forbidden, Claudia doesn't want his (Lestat's) blood" Says the guy who called her Claudia de Lioncourt!!! And he's so disrespectful, saying that to Louis' face even though Louis was there when he called her that (and I liked that he defended her). Now you respect her wishes to not be associated with Lestat?

There's so many more hypocritical moments in general but I might just list them in another post.

Armand and Louis

Louis sick and tired of "Yes, Maître" My absolute favorite scene is at the park when Louis asks Armand to witness Madeleine turning, Armand tries to turn it into a "Maître" situation, and Louis immediately shuts down. He does kind of play into it with a nonchalant order but he also makes it clear he dislikes it. He just wanted to ask his boyfriend for a favor... He's already tired of having to play that game every time he asks for something that matters to him and they haven't even left Paris! Armand apologizes, but does he truly understand?

Not to mention, given the nasty looks Louis was throwing Madeleine before the bite, I'm sure he felt lonely. Having Armand by his side would have eased the feeling of loss (as Claudia said, "to get something you must lose something" but what he was getting didn't show up).

Armand moving in. I know Claudia herself wasn't really living at the apartment anymore but the way Armand moved in as soon as she left town aghdjshuis

Daniel spelling it out. Too bad that it had to be done that way for people to get it, but I'm glad Daniel pointed out how Armand's submission to Louis was only when it was convenient to him. It was always obvious. Hopefully the bad discourse around it dies down!

Armand, Louis and Daniel

Vampire apologies and dubious alliances. Armand apologizes to Daniel for the memory edit. He has to be prompted to apologize about the attempted murder. He does not apologize for the torture. Daniel is holding onto the shared outrage and the connection he found with Louis earlier, and at first they're kind of a team, but in the end it's not quite going as planned.

Poor Daniel is about to find out what it really feels like to sit on the outskirts of Louis' relationships. He better re-read those diaries for reference...

Vampire hackers and the Talamasca. WHAT is going on with that though? Armand asking about the suddenly encrypted laptop means he regularly snoops around in there, no? And why is he asking Rashid about Daniel's outing as if he can't read both their minds. He knows for sure. But why not just come out with it?

Anyway those were my thoughts, I loved the episode.

2x06 thoughts - part 1 - Madeleine & co

2x06 thoughts - part 2 - Claudia & Louis

[the5thcellar]

The only reason why people are against the perspective of Luke and Nicola having it, it's the internal fat phobia for me. Same thing for the group 'no chemistry' in the series. Anons wouldn't say all that shit about one sided crush from her, if she was indeed a woman with a skinny body, not a mid size one. The thing is she doesn't need it, cause she is ethereal and perfect in her way. She is a beautiful woman. She is gorgeous, while people project much of their own insecurities on her. Luke, though, is just the other typical male celebrity. If they'll ever jump on the train, it will certainly be him asking her out, not her following him. I don't see this woman in her golden retriever stage for anyone. She knows her worth and is sure to be aware of impulsive decisions of his.

OH CLOCK IT OMGGGGGGG. 193829293912% !!!!!!!!!!

I would like this post a hundred times if I could. I've been pretty much silent about the issue of fatphobia in the fandom because the arguments I've witnessed / been involved in on twitter ALWAYS get the same dead end responses - "not everything is fatphobia they just have no chemistry" / "you have to admit that Nicola isn't that attractive it has nothing to do with her weight".

It's LITERALLY fatphobia. Most of the times it's not even internalised - people are literally saying the quiet part out loud by insisting Nicola doesn't look good enough to warrant attraction from a "hot guy" like Luke.

LIKE BE SO FUCKING FR RN OMG ??? I've had to sit through people shipping SO many weird ass pairings that I personally felt were completely absurd - pairings that the mainstream audience ate up just because it was a skinny girl with a hot guy.

(Truth be told - and on a more relevant note - I literally felt like Phoebe and Regé had no chemistry. both of them were so absolutely compelling and gorgeous as individual characters but they didn't work together for me)

Isn't it strange how no one really said much about the previous two Bridgerton pairings where aesthetics were concerned... and were lauding the couples for all having such GREAT chemistry with one another ... but when it came to Luke and Nicola they were all suddenly so insistent that there was no chemistry at all and that their views are completely objective? Nah. Pack it the fuck up. All these people are fatphobic as hell.

What's made it worse is the bloody ozempic obsession that has swept over Hollywood in the past year. Suddenly celebs who used to advocate for body positivity are all skinny - doing a hypocritical 180 on the self love ethos they were preaching.

But anyway that's diving more into social commentary and I don't want to veer too far from the original content on this post.

So 100% yes - a HEFTY MAJORITY of polin antis and lukola antis are blatantly fatphobic. If you cannot imagine Luke Newton can EVER have feelings for Nicola but think him and A are obviously a great fit - you're fatphobic. You can pretend you're objective all you want ... but think about why you're so FUCKING QUICK to defend Antonia and say she'll be together with Luke forever / she's totally his type when 1) she's barely been in the spotlight - she's done no interviews or anything for y'all to even get enough of an idea of her personality to stan her or bat for her 2) y'all don't fucking KNOW his type you just assume it's skinny women because his celeb crush is dua lipa and everyone loves hot and skinny women right? newsflash guys my celeb crushes are Zac Efron and Mads Mikkelsen and HELL YEAH I'd fall over myself to date either of them... but in a fuck marry kill contest I'd still choose to marry someone like Jack Black instead.

What you think is attractive as a fantasy is not always what you find attractive in a long term partner.

You're here on my page defending Antonia and insisting she's a better fit for Luke not because you know her, or like her, or even because you respect Luke. You're here on my page because you're using her as an excuse to come for Lukola. You're here on my page because you cannot imagine that a fat girl can be together with a "hot man."

Now check that.

[swallowedbyfandom]

Lay down your dreams

After she speaks with her mama she decides she knows exactly what to do. It is time to stop hiding she is so very tired of making herself smaller to be more palpable for the society. She is tired of people claiming to love her but never allowing her to speak. She is tired of allowing Colin to blame her for his own blindness. He was her most frequent correspondent, he could have figured it out if he ever bothered to think on it.

She looks at her once vibrant mother. She remembers thinking as a girl that her mama was the most beautiful Lady. Now her mama is worn too thin. Her fierce mother has lied, cheated, and literally stolen to support their family. Her tasteless, tacky mama is a survivor. So is she. Penelope respects that, is proud of it.

Dash it all. She is Penelope Featherington, The Lady Whistledown, that is a better legacy than being Penelope Bridgerton, the unheard wife of a third son. In a way she wants to thank him for being so stupidly hurtful she has finally had enough. She was willing to give up Whistledown for him. She did give up her only source of power for him however temporarily it was.

He however didnot even set down his hurt long enough to have a discussion with her. He claimed she entrapped him, when he was the one who ruined her prospects. She wishes to all that is holy that they had never been intimate. He was not worthy of her virtue. She has never needed Colin's conditional honor. The final straw was when he ignored her opinion on Cressida Cowper.

She heads back to Bloomsbury to gather her belongings. She has Rae and some of the Featherington staff pack her trunks and load them on the carriage before heading back to Featherington House. She hands Varley enough to make the Finch/Dankworth Ball the most elegant and gaudy ball Mayfair has ever seen. She wants her sisters and her mother to have a magical night that reflects the loud vibrant women they are.

She settles into her childhood room, to set her schemes into motion. She writes a letter for Violet explaining everything she wished to explain. The beginning, the middle, and this bittersweet end. She includes her engagement and wedding band. She shall have the letter delivered the afternoon of the ball. Let Colin deal with his mother's disappointment. Violet she knows will understand her reasons better than most.

Their ball is a victory for the ladies of her house. Widowed, married, and newly single alike. Colin of course comes to her after the Queen's judgement with his heart in hand. He finally sees her. He is beautiful, earnest and as always, he is a day late and a shilling short. She takes his hands in hers and tells him she had their marriage annulled on the grounds of fraud and lack of consummation.

He tries to protest but she will not have it. She drops his hands and speaks her truth.

"You had your chance to fix things, Colin. You turned your back on me. All your claims of love, devotion, and protection were empty. Our marriage was a farce. You never allowed me the dignity of explaining myself. You ran. You always run, Colin."

She cries silently while she continues. It will always hurt she thinks. The loss of this beautiful dream she no longer believes in. Colin has shattered her heart and her faith in him for the last time. Love is not always enough.

"I asked my mama how one knows if they are with child and she explained it to me. I started my courses two days ago and I have no symptoms. I can safely conclude I am not with child. You can no longer claim I have entrapped you. The annulment has been signed, sealed, and filed already. I have returned the rings to your mother and removed my belongings from your home."

"I wish you well, Mr. Bridgerton. Good bye."

She leaves him standing there.

She is as free as a woman in society can be. She is not yet comfortable with the attention and the problems she will face being Whistledown publicly but her mama will not be implicated in theft. The solicitor will believe the inheritance to be Whistledown income. It is not too far from the truth anyway. She has been discreetly paying down her papa's debt for years. Her family will endure. She will head to the country with her mama next week. She thinks she will write a book as her next endeavor.

Perhaps the Queen would be open to sharing her love story. It cannot hurt to ask.

[mostly-tame]

A year ago I flew into Michigan to get *my* dog. As soon as I got in the car we clicked. I was prepared to earn his love and trust, but right away we loved each other. Since then our bond has only deepened and strengthened. My love and adoration and admiration for him has only grown.

We've both come a long ways since we met; and I'm incredibly proud of both of us for what we've accomplished. He's my first dog of my own and I couldn't have picked a better first dog for me. He's precisely who and what I needed, and I honestly find him to be a rather easy dog. I greatly enjoy working with him, he's incredibly smart and eager, and once he knows what I want from him he takes only a few repetitions to get it down. I want to try Rally and Agility with him, and we've already begun some parkour type training. We of course hike and walk often, and have done a bit of canicross, and I want to do so much more of that, as well as weight pull, bikejor, and some more packing (I still have his pack, just haven't used it much lately).

Of course I also still greatly want to hunt with him. He's shown great interest in squirrel, raccoon, and rabbit, as well as skunk and opossums lmao, and I greatly regret that the last hunting season was spent slowly escaping a toxic relationship and not hunting with him. I'd like to try him on bear as well, he certainly finds larger game incredibly enticing, but that probably won't happen this season.

It's somewhat strange now, all of my coworkers and friends know me for constantly talking about and showing them photos of Torch, and not Kit. I never really expected to out live her by long, and I wouldn't have if I hadn't gotten Torch when I did. Any other dog, from any other litter, pairing, breeder, I would have backed out of before I got them when I lost Kit. But I love his parents dearly, and his breeder is truly one of my best friends, and i could already feel that he was right for me; so the photos I'd seen of him and videos and photos I got of him before I flew to him kept me afloat while I got through the most lonely few months of my life.

Every day I'm grateful to call him mine, to curl up with him at the end of the day, to walk him, to train with him, to hike with him, to play with him, to bury my face in his thick ruff. He's my sunshine dog, through and through. He makes me smile even when I'm the saddest and relax even when I'm the most stressed. There's no better way to soften my sadness than to curl up with him, softly wagging his tail at first as I pet him, until he tries to entice me into play. There's no better way to work through the things that stress and overwhelm me than to walk, run, or hike with him, working out the excess energy, grounding myself in the world and my being, and thinking things through. I am the happiest when I'm doing things with him.

I was prepared for a dog who would make me earn his love, trust, and respect, a dog who would be a bit of a challenge to train, a dog who wouldn't be very cuddly or affectionate, a dog who would push me more. Overall a dog who would make me work for and earn things more. Getting a teenage laika didn't sound like my brightest idea on paper. But I was ready and eager for the experience and work. But honestly? We fell into place incredibly easily and work amazingly together. He's bizarrely cuddly and clingy and while I don't need my future laiki to be as sticky as him, I love him dearly for it. He's precisely what I needed.

While I'm not generally spiritual nor do I generally put much stock in the idea of fate and destiny; I have no other way to describe how it feels to have him. Who he is and his timing are too perfect. He came to me precisely when I needed him the most. He keeps the shadows at bay. He's the light at the end of a long tunnel for me.

He's been mine for a whole year, and I wouldn't change him or trade him for the world. He's my pride and joy, and I look forward to many more years spent with him. @losech I know you know how much I love him, how much I needed him. I still have to say it again and again and again. I can never thank you enough for trusting me with him.

This art was done by one of my friends several months ago and still makes me tear up to even think about. You can find my friend at fairywren.art on insta!

[chirpingfromthebox]

Me just thinking out loud and inarticulately trying to wrap my head around my thoughts on the simmering dumpster fire that is my hometown team. Feel free to scroll on by.

I feel like something missing from a lot of the Curl discussion is the context it all happened in. Lots of articles and posts make it seem like the problem fans have is just that Curl got drafted at all. And I think the context around it all matters.

The league shit canned Natalie Darwitz days before the draft, wouldn't say why, acted like they aren't saying anything because they want to respect Darwitz, but meanwhile Darwitz seems like she would LOVE to talk about the situation.

To make matters worse there's all this talk and speculation surrounding the role Klee had in this, and amongst that he goes to the draft table with the emptiest table of any team, drafts Curl in the second round, (you can tell the league already was ready for bad fallout from Curl because they had a prepared statement locked and loaded to go out in the youtube chat seconds after it happened), and then Klee IMMEDIATELY makes things worse by purposefully staging her draft photo to be taken with St. Paul's mayor Melvin Carter (a black man) and the assistant coach (a queer woman).

Then Klee, the team, and the league decide to handle the fallout from everything in the most half-assed tone-deaf manner possible.

Before the Darwitz debacle I had mentally prepared myself for the eventuality that someone would draft Curl. But I had prepared myself for someone doing it in the back half of the draft.

A team would get her, but at least it would suggest Curl's actions had lowered her value considerably in teams' eyes.

Like, none of the craziness happened, and Darwitz had drafted Curl in the 5th or 6th round, made a proper acknowledgement of the situation and their plan for moving forward, and Curl had made an apology video that was written by someone who didn't go to the American Political School of Empty Statements?

I think the community could understand. We wouldn't love it, but we could live with it. It would be like seeing a big spider in the corner of my ceiling: I certainly don't like it, and I'm gonna keep my eye on this, but as long as it doesn't step to me any further we'll be alright.

But that's not what happened. And that's not how it happened.

And I'm still not sure what to do with my Minnesota fandom at this point.

At the moment I'm waiting to see what the final team looks like. If they re-sign their queer players I'm willing to put in the work to fight against Mr. Potato Head's attempts to sabotage my team, and try to at least make the fan community as welcoming and inclusive as possible.

But if Klee and co. don't bring back Minnesota's queer players? Then I'm out. For the good of my own mental health I'll go support a different team until they can get their shit together.

Because I do believe that people can change. Especially people in their 20s who were dumb-ass ignorant assholes in college. And she's not my main problem. My main problem is what does this team and this league want to be? Because someone like Curl coming into a queer positive environment is one thing. But her coming into a place with nothing but conservative ideals and a pinkwashed door? That's something else entirely.

And if the people at the top are going to fire the woman who built the team, put a dude in charge, give a person with a history of supporting bigoted ideas a position of influence, and become the only team in the league without any queer players?

And then have the gall to claim to be an inclusive?

Fuck that.

[also everyone wants to act like Minnesota is some rogue villain in all this and that isn't fair. This isn't like the big league male teams: there are no individual team owners here. The league controls it all and their fingers are in every pie. But that's a whole different conversation.]

[latibvles]

happy early bday fellow june bday!! not 2 b melodramatic but since it just got super pre-thunderstorm dark outside, can i please request “sharing a kiss in a heavy downpour of rain” for viv/bucky OR your choice if that doesn’t vibe? — @shoshiwrites

kissing in the rain.

thank you friend !! <3 whenever I write these two I roll my eyes. they're gross disgusting married and I need to shake them like maracas. I got a postwar idea for this and ran with it. a little rain never ruined date night. and they have quite a few fond memories associated with rain as we all know. they're so gross and married for real this time

—

There’s no means of saving their clothes.

Okay, so Viv is being dramatic — a quick trip to the laundromat will make it alright. But they’re thoroughly soaked: the pale teal of her dress clings to her body like a second skin and droplets turn Bucky’s button-down halfway to translucent. He still puts his jacket around her good naturedly as he yanks her beneath one of the tall oaks off to the side of the beaten path.

Bucky’s strong arm is still wrapped around her waist, keeping her tucked into his side. She still marvels at the way he’s able to make her feel small in a way that doesn’t tear her apart.

His dark curls are weighed down by the rain, flat and sticking to his forehead — blue eyes impossibly dark, lit up only by streetlights. His fingers tap absentmindedly against the curve of her waist. It was still a couple blocks to the car, he’d wanted to see if it would lighten up a little more.

There’s another version of this, one where she presses her face against his back as he bikes like a madman, where he’s singing at the top of his lungs and her laughter is swallowed up by downpour, and she feels herself falling just a little bit in love with the man so insistent on biking her to her hut in that mess. Now, at least, she can say with confidence that she is just that: in love with him. They’ve got the rings to prove it.

Viv looks up at him, and he looks down at her — the tip of his nose bumps her and she snickers.

“Don’t even say it,” he starts out. Viv snickers again, and arches an eyebrow.

“Say what?” Bucky says nothing for a few moments, allowing the downpour to fill up their silences as he continues to tap that nonsensical beat against her skin. Then he lets out a sigh.

“I told you so, about the umbrella.” Viv bites her lip a moment, then raises her brows.

“Well I did.” He pinches her side teasingly, she bats at his chest.

“What’d I just say?” Bucky half-heartedly scolds, looking down at her. Viv giggles, smug as anything as her other arm wraps around his front, meeting the one that was holding onto his shoulder.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah, right.”

John Egan, in spite of all his impulsive decisions, could be rather meticulous when required of him. He’d handled tonight with care, emphasizing how much he wanted to treat her tonight, for no reason beyond the fact that he could. And he did — brought her flowers and a dress she’d quietly eyed on an errand-run, pressing kisses to her temple and telling her to be ready by six. He took her out to dinner, then dancing.

He’d just forgotten an umbrella, or rather, decided he didn’t need it.

“It’s kinda like England,” she murmurs offhandedly. Bucky smiles a little, humming and nodding as his lips pull into a contemplative pout.

“Just need a sheepskin and those pretty silk shorts,” She bats at his chest at that remark, but his hand is grabbing at hers, keeping it pressed against his chest.

“You and those damn shorts—”

“Can you blame me? You scandalized me.” He teases and Viv scoffs in partial disbelief as he leans down. He’d seen her in much less by this point, but some things he liked to dangle over her head even now. His nose brushes against hers and she gives him a narrow-eyed look.

“I did not,” she defends, and she feels the rumble of the chuckle vibrating through his chest.

“You definitely did. I was respectable before you came along,” Viv snorts, opening her mouth in an attempt to argue, but Bucky’s kissing her before she can get the chance, keeping her hand pressed right up against his hammering heart and pressing his arm against the small of her back until she’s flush against him and her eyes are fluttering shut.

She thinks he may just dip her for the dramatics of it all, her other arm wrapping around his neck and holding onto his broad shoulders as he kisses her — soft lips, the faint taste of wine clinging to him. Any other kiss she’s shared with anybody else has always, will always pale in comparison to this. How the flush creeps up her neck even now, how her tongue pokes out to run across the seam of his mouth and he grunts in reply, but still opens up for her all the same.

They’re a lot of things. Modest isn’t really one of them.

His hand follows the curve of her waist, then lower, still, her shaky breath swallowed by downpour, by his lips stealing breath from her lungs as she opens her eyes to look at him.

“Careful what you start out here, Mrs. Egan,” Bucky mumbles, blue eyes dark, tone teasing. Viv grins at him. There’s something about the way he calls her that — the hand beneath his jacket, against her body, the chill of his wedding band and the gleam of her own. She doesn’t think she could get tired of that.

“Scared I’ll scandalize you?” Bucky kisses her again, briefly.

“Scared I won’t make it two blocks,” he refutes. Bucky looks out at the path. “Think it’s lightening up.”

Viv doesn’t get a chance to say anything — he’s hauling her along like a man on a mission. All she does, just like all she’s ever done, is laugh.

[slothelephant]

What if - and just hear me out here, it’s just an idea!

Instead of Eloise falling in love with a man or even a lady, the girl who is an avowed spinster, who has never displayed any real interest in romantic relationships with men or women (I am not at all convinced that she was romantically interested in Theo. I think she wanted his respect and approval.) finds a queer platonic relationship and lives an extremely happy life with a non romantic life partner.

I know it wouldn’t actually happen and so may people would be heartbroken if it did but as an aro ace person, I see myself so much in Eloise and the way she tries to support the people she loves in their pursuits of happiness but she clearly doesn't quite get it and is a little bewildered to see them chase after futures she can't imagine wanting and sad at being left behind. She thought that’s what she and Penelope were signed up for - becoming spinsters together and when Penelope grew out of that little kid scheming , I think she felt confused and betrayed because she never did.

Seeing her happy and committed in a partnership where she is valued and supported and able to love freely the way she can and wants to would be so so special to me.

[changingplumbob]

Villareal: Chapter 6, Part 5

Joey's night concludes and preparation for family brunch begins.

CW: Moderate sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Luna (mummy) and Devin (mama) use some German and Italian. Bambino/s (Italian) Male child/children Buongiorno (Italian) Good morning Caro (Italian) Dear Nonna/Nonno (Italian) Grandfather/Grandmother Piccolo (Italian) Little one Zia/Zio (Italian) Aunt/Uncle

Joey wakes up with a start. He’s lying on his bedroom floor?

Marianna: Are you okay?

Joey: Marianna? What happened? We were just…

Joey pushes himself up feeling very confused. He was just at the nightclub. He’s used to the quickness of loading screens but this was something different. His genius mind is telling him to remain calm and gather facts but his paranoid trait is panicking.

Marianna: See I’ve never actually teleported someone with me before, I think I had the calibration off so you kind of passed out

Joey: Passed out? Yeah but- did you say teleport?

Marianna: Yes, I hope you’re okay. I was just reading your mind and I saw your photos and I hoped you might want one of real me

Joey: Reading... my... mind?

Marianna: It’s a thing we can do

Joey: Who is we?

Marianna: Oh you know… aliens

Joey is taken aback. Aliens? He always knew they were real but the research on their abilities was spotty at best. Unsurprisingly they didn’t exactly offer themselves up for tests. And he’d just…

Joey: Oh please tell me I’m not pregnant. I can’t be pregnant

Marianna: What? No! I’m not one of those ones. I was left in a carrier myself, I wouldn’t do that to a kid. I just… I know I’m a bit older than the other women in the photos…

She looks at the wall and folds in on herself a bit.

Joey: You’re saying… you read my mind, and know that me and the watcher need to keep track of my numbers with photos… and you teleported us here… because you were nervous that I wouldn’t want a photo of you

Marianna: I thought… you seemed to enjoy our time together so… you might want a photo of what I actually look like

Joey: I’ve never seen an alien before, at least not that I know of. But if you felt enough of a connection when we were woohooing, I’d be honoured to see the real you

Marianna: *smiling* Don’t freak out

Joey tries his best to keep his face straight as Marianna stretches. She changes from the human outfit into a cozy sleepwear number in alien form. It happened so fast Joey isn’t sure he actually saw the change happen. He has so many questions! But he has to remember this is stressful for her to.

Joey: You look amazing. Your eyes are spectacular. Your skin… you were glowing earlier right?

Marianna: *giggles* yes. When our emotions get strong it can be hard to hide and you just… made me feel all kinds of things

Joey: Likewise

He grabs his camera out and gets a shot of her to join the others.

Joey: I’m glad you didn’t mind read about my photos and decide to teleport me into an incinerator

Marianna: *giggles* No! Your mind… You make love but you respect the ones you’re with. Not incinerator worthy

Joey smiles and moves towards her, taking one of her hands and sliding her closer to him.

Joey: I don’t suppose you in any way used your alien powers on the dating app

Marianna: *blushing* Maybe. But I swear I didn’t coerce you in person, and I double checked your mind before-

Joey cuts her off with a kiss. She puts her arms around his neck and relaxes into him. She may not have been his typical type but seeing her, talking to her, everything that happened in that nightclub was what he wanted. Heck, he was glad she thought him worth messing with an app for.

Marianna: Why

Joey: Hmm?

Marianna: Why are you glad about that

Joey: Oh, mind reading. I guess I’m flattered my profile was attractive enough to warrant your effort. Can I give you a proper thanks?

Marianna: You did in the club

Joey: *whispers* Read my mind. You’ll see I can do better if you'd like to go again

Smiling Marianna uncurls herself from him and lets him unbutton her shirt and slide her pants off.

Joey: How did you change outfits anyway

Marianna: Oh that outfit was connected to my disguise. Remove the disguise and I can be wearing something else entirely

On his knees now Joey looks up at her.

Joey: Call me biased but I think you look breathtaking wearing nothing at all

Before she can reply Joey pulls her close and lets his mouth go to work. He is intrigued with the noises she makes. He thought he’d heard most of what women could sound like but the alien tone of her voice was something new. When she seems wet enough he stands up and she helps him out of his clothes. He thinks about what they could do next…

Marianna: The third option sounds good

Joey: *laughs* Try to stop reading my mind and just be in the moment

Joey hadn’t thought he’d be interested in woohoo with an alien but his time with Marianna was making him rethink his stance. A woman is a woman after all, and Marianna certainly had experience. He tried to hold out but with those alien vocals she got him to release even quicker than the last time.

Marianna: *softly* don’t worry, I take it as a compliment

Giving him a final kiss Marianna begins to redress while Joey cleans up. Unfortunately his paranoid brain still hasn’t settled down.

Marianna: Joey, I haven’t impregnated you. Relax

Joey: Is it okay if I like, tell people…

Marianna: *laughs* You’ll have a photo of me on your wall, I’m fairly sure they’ll believe you woohoo’d an alien

Joey walks her to the front door and watches her go, again somehow missing her changing back into her human disguise even though he never took his eyes off her. Pondering the events of the night he locks up and heads to bed, hoping he’ll be able to get enough sleep to put in an appearance at family brunch.

The sun rises alongside Luna and Devin. In the room next to theirs two toddlers yawn and greet the day, racing each other to their potties.

While Luna tackles some chores that need doing Devin and Joey pull together to prepare brunch. While Joey works on bagels Devin sorts out place settings.

Devin: Did you have a good night

Joey: I did! I woohoo’d an alien

Devin: *dubiously* How much did you drink

Joey: I’m serious! I’ll show you the photo later

Devin: It’s not an in action shot is it? Because I love you but there are limits

Joey: No! But it’s got me thinking, there must be other occults out there

Devin: Focus on the *Joey spills stuff* food…

Joey: Don’t panic, I’ll clean it up

Devin: I’ll give you a hand when I’m finished this

Joey: But like I was saying, since aliens do exist on earth some of the other stories must be true

Devin: What stories? Some of us spent our time learning Shakespeare not becoming cryptozoologists

Joey: I wouldn’t woohoo bigfoot! Unless you know bigfoot had a hot human woman form... But if I could land a mermaid, a vampire and say… a werewolf, then I could be the most experienced sim in game! Like how many other sims could claim that achievement?

Devin: Dream big little brother. How’s your game coming

Joey: Slowly, I’ve put the beta out and I’m waiting for reports from play testers. Should be ready for a final polish after brunch though

Devin: If you need someone who doesn’t understand video games to test I’m happy to help

Joey: *laughs* That’s not a terrible idea sis

Devin: It’s my idea, of course it’s great

The sound of wobbly footsteps can be heard in the corridor, the twins are up.

Joey: Uh oh, here comes trouble

Devin: Buongiorno bambinos! Did you not feel like sleeping in

Alfred: No mama. We be awake for family

Rilian: Yes. Nonno and Nonna coming?

Devin: Absolutely. Did you two get dressed all by yourselves

The twins beam and chatter over each other excitedly before sitting down by the counters and spending time on their tablets.

Devin: That’s the table set. I’ve pushed the high chairs into the hall so we can all fit. Alfred, Rilian, are you okay with sitting on the bench?

Twins: *too engrossed in screens to reply*

Devin: I’ll take that as yes. Are your bagels finished yet

Joey: Not just yet. Trust the process, they’ll be good

Devin walks over to her sons hoping that they’ll listen more the closer she is to them.

Devin: Any requests for breakfast?

Alfred: Cereal!

Devin: Caro we have cereal when we don’t have guests. On Sundays we get nice breakfasts. Rilian?

But Devin’s picky eater is ignoring the question about food.

Devin: Mama could make… omelettes, French toast, pancakes-

Alfred: Yes!

Devin: Pancakes, si? Oh looks like Zio Joey has finished making bagels for us. What do we say?

Alfred: Thank you Zio Joey

Rilian: Thanks Zio

Devin: That’s my bambinos. Mama is so proud of you remembering your manners

Rilian: Mama tell Mummy?

Devin: Si, I will tell Mummy

Joey: When did this stereo break? I swear it was working when I left last night

Devin: I figured you’d probably be the best one to fix it

Joey: *starts fixing* And what if I get electrocuted?

Devin: You know tech, you’ll be fine

Rilian: Go Zio Joey!

Alfred: Zio can do!

Joey: I suppose. Gosh I hope Deanna is getting better at her robots, she got fried last time I visited

Devin: She enjoys tinkering, I guess some zaps are the price to pay. Okay bambinos, mama’s going to make the pancakes

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