#the end of the world for her mother. she can live life even when mostly wheelchair bound and just because Amelia has to step up

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

fuck it its lesbian week of visibility im dropping the Amelia lore. too many bisexuals* in Cela & co, time for Celias lesbian protégé to shine<3 so time for a ramble<3

[*Rametto is ace aro they just dated a boy for a few weeks to try [read: to rub it in Cecios face that he is chronically unable to get in a serious & honest romantic relationship] but the rest are bi/pan] anyway clarification over:

Amelia is one of the less doomed characters, mainly because shes 1. not part of the immediate family group [of her own volition] E.g. she never has her main residence be with Celia except for a few situations for a short amount of time where she he nowhere and 2. Shes part of the 'second generation' aka not Celia Tesoro, Conficcare or even Elenas cohort, so like Rametto, she gets the benefits of the older ones hard work as well as their protection as they grow into their own.

Her story is fairly simple, her mother is disabled due to a gang related attack, so she steps up to avenge her mother as well as make money to support them both. shes barely a teenager, but so angry at the world for her mother getting hurt that she starts hunting down local gang members to find out who did it and where to find them. she starts shaking down students at Rametto's school, leading to a fight where she breaks one of his year mates arms, getting her expelled from her current school. Rametto is curious at to why she was picking fights, especially given with Celia and Conficcares not so long ago rise to the district squad, people are looking to him as their future successor & leader of the younger members. Rametto tells her it wasnt any of them that hurt her mother, hoping to end the issue

but Amelia ends up joining Ramettos school, and thanks to her already existing reputation, she makes a name for herself as an excellent fighter and a smart one too. Her and Rametto are, to put it simply, rivals for the leadership of the students, and have their own followers and factions, but will join ranks when a threat appears from outside. they gain a lot of respect for each other, an open lesbian, and a glass closet case of gender nonconformity. she was traditionally strong and charismatic and he was manipulative and a chess master- they made very interesting enemies, but when united they were terrifying- and Celia noticed and not only fostered that competition, but also [with Tesoros help] carefully made them closer.

Celia became the adult Amelia could unload her worries to [when shes worried about burdening her mother], acting as an uncle of sorts, and Amelia remains one of the only people who Celia has talked about being a woman [or not] with, after Amelia eventually snaps at Celia about being a coward and not being herself, instead hiding behind masks and masculinity, and hiding from the misogyny she 'should' be receiving, but instead all of which gets placed on Amelia's shoulders.

[shoving my old tags here for an explanation for the implications of that argument: #idk why i havent really taled about her before#oh yea its her complicated relationship with Celia re: womanhood & the rejection of it#Amelia is not being transphobic? well thats not her intent. but Celia hiding something that Amelia gets plenty of shit for is important#i mean none of these characters even my beloved butch lesbian are meant to be paragons of virtue#but none of these fuckers are going to therapy ofc they be yelling at each other# and like i get it i feel shit that im genderqueer and yet just pretend to just be a man to be safer. #idk when i write that argument its gonna be uncomfortable but like. that why im writing these characters ]

like Rametto, she has a complicated relationship with Celia, and especially to do with what Celia has and has not chosen to do. still, because Amelia still has her mother who she can talk to, she fares a lot better than Rametto.

Eventually Rametto is forced to join Passione, and she is now the de facto leader after years of progressively friendlier competition. they are still best friends and rivals though, and they keep each other grounded, joking that they are blood brothers [despite neither being men]

if its not already clear, she a parallel to Elena [a openly girl leading] as well as a contrast to Celia who had to hide her own genderfuckery, where Amelia is openly a butch lesbian. but still, she can be so, in large part to Celia hiding her own identity. her & Ramettos friendship is so fun, both bitchy petty and extremely meaningful for the both of them [ALSO her mother survived and so she has a lifeline & family outside of the violent life, even as she needs to enter it- just like how Celia would have never fallen so deep if not for her mothers death. which is why Celia is seen by her as an uncle of sorts, whereas Rametto has said your not my father one to many times for him to not see her as one]

[chaedomi]

𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 ✦ wmmap

fem!child!reader x athanasia + claude de alger obelia (platonic!yan), violence, death, suicide, unhealthy relationships; to them you were a jewel, precious and highly valuable. they, in turn, will express their strong emotions toward you, even if it means resorting to… more hostile methods. ꨄ — masterlist

IN THE novel, Lovely Princess, the story went like this. True to its title, the book contained Lovely Princesses. There was The First Princess, akin to the moon, who held a gloomy and foggy disposition. Then came The Second Princess, resembling the sun, bright and cheery. And finally, The Third Princess, similar to the stars, was reserved but gentle and a source of comfort.

You were… The First Princess’s younger half-sister. Although your mother was unknown (you were found inside a basket in the gardens crying) those jeweled eyes and your uncanny appearance close to The Emperor were solid proof that you were in fact of royal blood. It was… certainly strange to learn that the book entailed you as an 'unimportant' character. While The Second Princess was adored by the whole continent, the love the people harbored for you, The Third Princess, could put The Second Princess to shame. They treated you as though you were some supreme gift bestowed from the heavens, to be treasured and pampered. And among those who glorified you… was your father, The Cold-Hearted Emperor. You were like The Protagonist more than The Second Princess could ever be.

You were also… the best sister anyone could ask for to The First Princess. Because The First Princess was deprived of affection in her life, she mostly relied on you to fill the gaps in her heart. And you endearingly did so, trying your best to shine a light inside her darkness. It soon became that you both were inseparable, attached by the hip.

…So, obviously, you will spiral down into despair over The First Princess's death. You knew The First Princess was innocent of The Second Princess's poisoning. She was simply too sweet to commit a vile act, especially when she too took a liking to The Second Princess. But, alas, your reasoning went through one ear and out the other, and without proper evidence, your father executed The First Princess.

However, just as The Emperor's wrath was not to be underestimated, so was the extent of your grief as you promptly took away your life hours after The First Princess's execution. And that was the sad ending of your story, The Third Princess.

HOW WAS THAT ANY FAIR??? The confusion of the roles and the cheesy plotline were already bad enough on their own, but your unnecessary death pretty much destroyed the chances of her leaving a positive review. Was it done to reestablish the fact you were an unimportant character, or to remind everyone that The Second Princess is the original best girl in the story…? No amount of copious explanations can ever make ATHANASIA understand the validation for your death.

What she can come to understand however is that you, out of all people, did NOT deserve to die. You had all the rights to receive a happy ending just like The Second Princess… and that is what she aspired to make a reality as she was tossed into the fantasy world of the novel. It was obvious that it all went to hell when The First Princess was executed at the hands of The Emperor. So, in order to avoid your death, she will have to avoid hers first.

A genius plan, she dubbed it, stealing various riches from the Ruby Palace to live the rest of her life on as she escapes. She also thought of the brilliant idea of taking you along with her, after all, being inside the palace is kind of… the reason for your death, was it not!? Why not avoid the source altogether!? Or… that is what was supposed to happen before she accidentally stumbled across The Emperor four years early. Now, she will have to scrap that genius plan. Damn…

On a bright note, as time passed, using an alternative plan, Athanasia eventually evaded all chances of earning death at the hands of her father. This means that you too won’t have a pitiful ending as you originally did! Yay!

You truly didn’t deserve to die, and Athanasia will keep on saying it as much as needed. The years she spent beside you as your sister, further strengthened her motivation to keep you alive. She also understood why The First Princess had a strong attachment toward you. Innocent, Pure, Patient, Merciful, and Kind… who wouldn’t swoon over a person with such admirable traits? What struck her heart the way it did, was your affection. In her previous life, Athanasia… didn’t have people around her to provide her with love.

So, it surprised her a lot when it happened. Sure, she had love from her Nanny and the rest of the maids, but yours had her heart pumping, energy rushing through her veins. It was warm… a feeling she wanted to cling to for an eternity. Was it silly that she felt envious of a fictional character? To think that The First Princess was subjected to this kind of treatment from you… How did it feel to live her dream? Not that it matters anymore. Now, she can have you to all herself! You wouldn’t mind if she got a little… greedy, right? Of course, you won’t! After all, if you learned of her tremendous effort to keep you safe, why wouldn’t you reward her with more of your presence? What she does is in your favor. So, don’t get too upset if what she does seems a bit extreme, alright? It’s all for your benefit.

Betrayal can hurt. But, betrayal stings when it comes from the person you trusted and loved the most. You didn’t understand why it had upset her more than it upsetted you. More so, if she was so against the idea, why hadn’t she said so first? She was supportive about it too, choosing to help pick out a perfect disguise for your outing in the town. So why was it that on the day you were about to leave, lo and behold, there was your father by your doorway, inclusive of his knight… and your sister beside him, smiling triumphantly? Maybe if you had paid attention to how the shine left your sister’s eyes as you told her of your plan, you could have avoided such a dreadful punishment.

What bugged you the most was how Athanasia carried out her day normally, and acted sweetly to you, as if she didn’t partially contribute to the punishment of breaking your legs. Today was no different, as she sat on the chair beside your bed rambling on about her day. “You know, that’s the most I’ve seen Daddy upset.” She laughed, tracing her finger down your legs. “Usually, he would never dream of even hurting a strand of your hair. What you’ve done was really bad…”

She smiled at you, her jeweled eyes looking all the more terrifying under the dark lighting in your room. “I don’t understand. I should feel despaired seeing my sister in so much pain. Why does it bring me so much relief?” She sighed, holding one of your hands in hers. “...You scared me terribly with what you told me earlier. My mind couldn’t stop focusing on the many possibilities that would arise with you out there. Even worse, what if they learned of your true identity, and an enemy nearby attacks you?”

“I agreed with your plan, solely to avoid trouble. If I said no, you would have avoided me, right? I… don’t ever want to see you in danger, or place you in it, knowing I could have done something to prevent it. Not like anything like that will happen anytime soon!” She gently poked your injured legs. “I will help ensure that too.” You didn’t realize that the tears building in your eyes began to fall, your sister’s fingers quickly working to wipe them away.

In the novel, CLAUDE naturally favored you more than The First Princess. Upon your first encounter during the festival on The First Princess’s ninth birthday, with an outstretched hand, he escorted you back to the party, leaving your older sister in the dust. You lived a rather lavish life after that, him spoiling you with exquisite goods. So, it’s not like you had to form some extreme plan like Athanasia to protect yourself from the dangers that lurked inside the palace. Everyone here adored you…

Yet, not only did Athanasia’s interference with the plotline create many changes for her, but it also resulted in triggering unsettling events for you. Now that The Cold-Hearted Emperor has learned to display affection for the firstborn he originally detested, where would that place you, the daughter he always loved?

…His methods were very much frightening, even traumatizing, you may add. The numerous times you witnessed something gruesome to the eye, for the littlest offenses toward you. He would imprison, he would murder, he would execute, all in your name. His presence too, was very much suffocating, more than Athanasia, and that spoke volumes.

You hated how they both attached themselves to you, but, if you had to choose, you would pick Athanasia in a heartbeat. For the cold jeweled eyes that scrutinized every movement you made were too much for your poor heart to endure. It was as though he was waiting, waiting for your slip-up, to gain a perfect reason to permanently confine you behind the walls of your bedroom. And you fear… that the day you kissed your freedom goodbye was approaching quicker than you initially anticipated.

“What will it take for you to treat me as normally as the rest?” the (h.c) haired girl wept, clutching on tightly her father’s robes. “Shall I become like my sister, Athanasia? If I do… will I become like a free bird, and be granted more privileges?” grief-stricken jeweled eyes peered up at her father. “Will you finally release me from the shackles you trapped me in?”

“Do what you want,” her father smirked. but, as quickly as her hope came so was it shattered. the piercing concept. his voice in her ears was the cruelest of them all. “Such a thing won’t happen till the day I perish.” what a terrible vow. she knew he would do anything in his power to maintain his promise. and so, the deepest of despair like never before flooded her eyes. what have you done to receive this…?

you were very precious. nothing, not even the rarest pieces in the world could be compared to you; you were the highest value among them all. for all, it was a high requirement to treat you with the utmost importance and respect. yes, to them, to everyone, you were, the jewel of obelia.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[crymyeyesout1]

Set in their sights

poly!marauders 

Summary: The marauders are all in a poly relationship with each other and Lily when they all individually become interested in a shy hufflepuff in their year. What about this little hufflepuff makes them all feel complete? Will she return their affections?

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of smut, lots of fluff, very shy oc, mentions of child abuse. let me know if there are any more

PSA: this is my first time writing on tumblr so please be kind, I'm trying my best. And there is absolutely no peter in this story so sorry not sorry. Please let me know if you like it and if I should write more.

✩₊˚.⋆✩⋆⁺₊✩

James and Sirius were hurriedly making their way through the train; their lovers were already in the marauders designated compartment and they were running late. It would seem as if the two hadn’t seen them since their fifth  year ended just three months ago, but in reality it had been only five days since their shared boyfriend and girlfriend had departed from James’ home where they had spent almost the entire summer doing whatever they pleased. 

“Pads slow down you are going to run someone over” James pleaded with his boyfriend

“ Prongs please we are late and I’m not going to-” he was cut off by a body colliding with him square in the chest and falling over. He peered down to see a small girl and became almost immediately enamored with in his eyes she was the most adorable girl he’d ever seen to others she was almost odd looking her hair was mostly pitch black but around her face and peeking out a bit from the underneath was bright blonde and all of it was naturally curly. The girl was wearing a hufflepuff jumper that looked at least one size too big with a black skirt and sheer tights that had some kind of pattern to them, stars, Sirius recognized and on her feet lay black worn out combat boots. Sirius reached out his hand to help the poor girl up and for a few seconds she hesitated almost as if she was scared of what would happen if she did take his hand, which reluctantly she did. He carefully pulled her to her feet and as he did so he took quick notice of her eyes: they were a dark gray and dull like there was no life behind them, they were slightly sunken and were surrounded by deep dark blueish purple eye bags. Just by looking into them Sirius could tell she was sad and it broke his heart a part of him wanted to take this girl and hide her away from all the evils of the world that she had already seen. He wanted to be the reason the light returned to those eyes. His thoughts were going a million miles a minute when someone clears their throat dragging him back to reality. It was James, his boyfriend, how could he be so stupid as to be so caught up with this random girl that he completely blanked on his relationship. He had two boyfriends and a girlfriend already. What was he doing ogling this poor girl? 

“Hello there, sorry about this brute, he can’t pay attention to anything even if it's right in front of him” James quickly apologized to the poor girl on Sirius’ behalf.

“It's quite alright” a soft and dreamy voice came from the girl in front of them, James instantly took more notice of the girl completely understanding he boyfriends staring now. In just three words you had encapsulated him and he needed more.

“Well little love, I’m James Potter and can I tell you how much of a pleasure it is to run into you. Please you must tell me your name, little love.” The girl blushed furiously at the nickname and softly responded.

“Abigail Gaunt '' Her last name caused Sirius to freeze, flashes of his mothers teachings came flooding into his brain. The Gaunts were the last known descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but the last living Gaunt was put in azkaban for murder by means of the killing curse, an unforgivable. How was one standing in front of him, and how was she a hufflepuff, oh how he would love to see the look on his mothers face the last known heir of slytherin sorted into hufflepuff. Surely she couldn’t be in his year, his own sorting into gryffindor had caused uproar but this, this was a whole new level. James had seemed to notice the shock on Sirius’ face and had elbowed his arm, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“Oh I’m Sirius Black, but of course you already know that doll” he winked at her and if her face could have gotten any redder it would.

“Um well yes but um I-It's nice to m-m-meet you” she stuttered out trying with all her might to act normal but in her mind no she wasn’t normal not even in the slightest bit. But two fourths of the infamous marauders stood in front of her and were they? Merlin forbid they were flirting with her? 

Impossible, flirt with her? What were they thinking?

She tried to reason with herself when a beautiful voice filled the hall

“There you boys are Remus and I were starting to worry oh! Who is this?” The voice belonged to the one and only Lily Evans, every aspect of her was beautiful, it was no wonder she had the three most sought after boys in the school on her leash. And what was that last part, she had noticed the small hufflepuff standing with her boys. Abigail might as well have been on fire with how hot and red her cheeks were.

“Lily Pads! We were just on our way when Padfoot decided to tackle Abby here” he looked down at her and cocked his head to the right “ I can call you Abby right? Good because that what I’m calling you, Abby is so much cuter sounding than stuffy Abigail” The girl now newly nicknamed Abby gave a small squeak as the larger and very muscular boy wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him and gave a small “sure”  when she noticed his expecting gaze. If someone could die from embarrassment Abby definitely would be long dead. 

“Oh it's so nice to me you Abby what year are you?” Lily gushed at the girl in her boyfriend's arms, she was just too cute and her deeply reddened cheeks only made her more so. Lily wanted nothing more than to kiss them but that would need to be discussed with her boys.

“Come on boys, let's leave Abby here to go find her compartment, I’m sure her friends are waiting, just as Remus is waiting on us.” She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Abby’s cheek then turned and walked back to their compartment. Abby didn’t have a chance to even think about how she definitely didn’t have any friends waiting on her, in fact the past five minutes have been the most interaction she’s had with someone her age ever she thought. Each of the boys had followed lily’s lead and each kissed one of your cheeks and moved to their compartment. Leaving Abby a flustered mess in the middle of the train.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part one

authors note: well, i got some type of writers block working on two other RR wip's so opened a new google doc and ended up with this. prob gonna be 3 parts, maybe 4. there's an almost five year time jump after this one, can you guess why? also, joe's wife is an oc, not galina.

first time posting my roman writings on here and trying not to freak out tbh

warnings: angst, infidelity, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

word count: 4,000

You know that assignment everyone at some point in their education where they research what they want to be when they grow up and share it with the whole class for a grade? Yeah, that big mammoth of a question that somehow you’re supposed to have confidently answered before even reaching double digits.

That was always super easy for you.

From as far back as you can remember, you wanted to be a teacher. It took until you were in middle school, almost high school for you to settle on an elementary school teacher, college for a specific grade. But, the teaching profession always called to you.

You chalk it up to your grandmother, undoubtedly one of your favorite people in this entire world. She was also an elementary school teacher who taught until she was expectedly called home when you were 14. Some part of you wonders if you’ve never even allowed yourself to entertain any other professions because of her loss. She was your best friend, and following in her footsteps was wanted but also felt somewhat necessary. Like you had to in order to honor her and her legacy.

A couple years into your career, you still think about that, how you’ve known from such a young age what you wanted to do with your life. Well, one part. 

In other areas, maybe the most important areas, you were lost as all of the outdoors. Mostly in one area, if you’re being honest, and truthfully, it’s not even what you want in as much as it is how you get there. The path is relatively simple: find a man, fall in love, get married, have babies, live happily ever after.

It’s such a stereotypical trajectory, but one you’ve also envisioned for yourself since your late teens. You’d gotten partying all out of your system during the early college years, somewhat in high school as well. Now in your mid 20s, soon to be late 20s, all you want to do is prepare to eventually settle down. Sooner rather than later.

And the issue isn’t even having no prospects. You have a prospect, he’s just unavailable. 

Because he’s already fucking married.

But can you even call him a prospect when that implies there’s some chance? Because there’s zero chance. You know this. You know this very well, too well. So why you still allow him into your bed and inside of you is beyond you. Yes, the sex is out of this world, but you desire more than that. Maybe not at first, but almost three years deep into this arrangement, most definitely.

You still think back to your first meeting.

Your best friend won a contest that not only granted her two front row tickets to a Smackdown show but backstage passes as well. You met so many wrestlers that night, some you grew up watching on TV as the little tomboy that you were as a kid. But, it was one wrestler in particular: tall, muscular, hair more beautiful and silky than any silk press your beautician mother could ever style, that changed your life. Whether for better or worse remains to be seen. 

He was attractive, extremely, possibly one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. But, the attraction was short-lived when you spotted the wedding band on his left hand. You’d be lying if you tried to say that was when the attraction sizzled out. It diminished, but it was still there. Still, you didn’t think much of it, that was until you received a call from a number on your phone that you didn't recognize. 

Why you even accepted the call is still a mystery. You never answered random calls, yet that one was an exception, an exception that resulted in you having an unexpected phone conversation with Roman fucking Reigns. He explained that he got your number from your friend who’d exchanged contact information with a wrestler she met that night as well. They were messing around too, that much you knew. And good for her. He, unlike Roman, was not married and therefore free to fuck around.

The conversation lasted much longer than it needed to, especially given the flirtatious nature it quickly took on. It was wrong, you knew this well, very well. He took vows, but you were also aware of those vows. And heat no point pressured you into anything, you could have cut it off. Flirtatious he was, but forceful he was not.

The conversations increased in frequency and length over a matter of weeks that turned into months, and before you knew it, your day started and ended with either a text or phone call from the wrestler. 

A small part of you knew that it would eventually escalate into more, a man like him seemed like he needed more. But, you stupidly tried to tell yourself that when that time came, you would remain strong and draw the line in the sand with just communication. Even if it was just as wrong as anything else.

It was a silly thought. 

Your resolve was weak.

You absolutely did not need to accept his invitation to fly you out to one of his shows, and you damn sure didn’t need to allow him to take you back to his hotel where your legs ended up wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you—among other things—until the early hours of the morning.

The days after that were rough. You felt absolutely disgusted with yourself. It was one thing to flirt with a married man, but it was an entirely different thing to fuck a married man. He wasn’t yours. He belonged to someone else. He had a life with some other woman. You had no right to insert yourself into that union, so you decided to sever contact with him, deleting his number from your phone and shoving the experience in the ‘biggest regret of your life’ box with no intention of reopening it.

Unfortunately for you, Roman, Joe, as he asked you to call him, was a persistent bastard.

You ignored his texts, so he called. You ignored his calls, so he texted. You ignored both, and this motherfucker showed up at your goddamn door. There were multiple times you could have and should have ended things, that being another perfect opportunity. If you told him to leave that night, not allowed him into your apartment, he would have listened. He was stubborn and resolute but also respectful. If you told him to leave, really told him, he would have done so.

But, you didn’t. You allowed him into your place and similar to the last time you were in his presence, ended up spread out on your bed with him balls deep inside you until you couldn’t feel your lower half. 

Now, fast forward three years later, not much has changed. You two don’t communicate quite as much in the day, and his visits are more spread out given the company’s current efforts at pushing him as the new face of the company. But, that doesn’t stop his visits to come see you and flights he puts you on to come see him, both of which always end with him leaving your legs jelly and throat raw.

All the while his wife sits at home unaware of her husband’s consistent residence between your legs.

The thought alone makes you sick, revolted at yourself, at how you’ve allowed yourself to reach this point in life. Closer to 30 than 20 and going on 3 years of being a mistress to a married man, a man who can never give you the future you want yet refuse to let go. 

Not that you’d ever allow yourself to really acknowledge why. 

That’s….that’s just too much.

________

Pillow talk was just something that naturally happened between the two of you. It made sense given that your relationship started out with just talking. He seemed interested in knowing more about you, about your likes and dislikes. He shared his as well. You weren’t beyond admitting that Joe was insanely easy to talk to, the flow of conversation always natural, never forced. There never seemed to be a dry spot between you two. 

And whether it was an innate ability to pick up on the emotions of others or just his, you could always tell when something was bothering him, could see when he came to you with a burden he didn’t want to discuss.

Not that that stopped you from asking. If he declined to talk about it, you respected it, didn’t push. But, more often than not, he would end up sharing things with you, mostly concerns regarding his career.

It seemed he visioned one thing for himself, while Vince McMahon saw another. He felt frustrated at times, especially when the fanbase started pushing back more. He never admitted as such, but you could see it hurt his feelings. How could it not? Kayfabe or not, Joe was still a real person with real feelings, regardless of the role he played.

And at some point, his visits to see you stopped always involving sex. That happened majority of the time, but there were occasions when he just seemed like he needed someone to be around, a distraction, someone to talk to. 

Someone like you.

“Come on.” You jumped up off the couch and offered your hand that he looked at with disinterest. “Don’t make me drag your big ass. It’ll probably break my back.” He lifts his brow, and you roll your eyes. “Joe, come onnnn.”

“Where are we going?” He finally asks, all the while sighing heavily and standing up. Though unnecessary at this point, he still takes your hand. You try not to think too much of the gentle squeeze he gives.

“To my kitchen.” 

Glancing over, he gestures with his thumb. “The place that’s like 3 feet away.”

You suck your teeth and shove against him. “Don’t be an ass. We’re gonna bake cookies.”

“Bake?”

“That’s what I said.” Though clearly skeptical, he follows you into the kitchen and watches as you start gathering supplies. “I spent a lot of summers with my grandma, and whenever either of us were having a bad day, she’d take us into the kitchen and we’d bake chocolate chip cookies. She’d always say there’s nothing a good chocolate morsel can’t cure.” 

Reflecting on those memories, so fond and cherished, brings a despondent smile to your face.

His eyes fall on you, sensing the sudden sadness. “You miss her.”

“Every day….” Shaking your head, you make a conscious effort to not make this about you and your grief. “Now, we need music.” You settle on some random “cookout” playlist that aids in setting the playful mood. To your surprise, yet not surprise, Joe keeps up without struggle. He's a fast learner, easily following along to your detailed instructions and explanations. Things get messy at times, as one does when baking, but it only causes the two of you to share laughter. Especially when you ‘accidentally’ get flour on each other. For you, it was an accident. His was definitely intentional. 

Still, between the laughter, light conversation, and New Edition serving as backdrop, it’s a sweet moment. 

“And now we wait,” you announce, plopping down on the sofa. “Wrestler by day, baker by night. Who’d a thunk it?”

He chuckles. “I never knew you could cook.”

At that, you nearly choke on the water bottle you’d grabbed off the coffee table. “Me? Cook? No. Not at all. There’s a reason every thanksgiving, my family only asks me to bring the drinks. My mom is the cook. Grandma was the baker. I can make cookies and a few select items. That’s it.”

You can still hear your grandma’s voice in the back of your head, chiding you for never allowing your mom to teach you how to cook. It just never garnered your interest, even when they swore up and down you’d never find a husband without knowing how.

Maybe they were right.

He joins you in the living room, settling on the other end of the sofa. “Maybe I could teach you then.”

His words—and offer—suprise you. “You can cook?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” He rolls his blue eyes. Some days you love the contacts, others you hate them. Today is a love day. They make his beauty even more exquisite. “Because of the big age difference between me and my siblings, it was just me and my mom a lot of times. They were either out and about or had either moved out. She’d ask me to help her out in the kitchen, and I picked up on a couple things.”

“You’re a fast learner.” That much is very obvious, in several areas of his life. “Was it ever hard? Like, not really having them around?”

He seems to think about her question before answering. “Yes and no. The twins moved to Florida when I was like three, and we became close instantly. It was like suddenly having two new brothers. Obviously, they didn’t live with us, so they weren’t always around, and those times were hard, I guess. But the older we got, the more we did together.”

The Usos. Also wrestlers trying to make names for themselves. He really does hail from a legendary dynasty. “I get that. It was just me and my mom, and she worked a lot to support us, so that’s why I spent so much time with my grandma. And I loved it, but sometimes it got lonely not really having siblings.” You look over at him, studying this massive specimen of a man who seems so unsure of himself right now, unsure of his future. He’d hinted at such during their prep, but you bookmarked the comment to revisit. “It’s all gonna work out, you know.”

His gaze is on you, partially disinterested, mostly in disagreement. Joe knows what you're referring to. He chuckles, darkly, “you sound sure.”

“I am,” you counter calmly. Moving to sit on your knees, you continue, “no matter what it takes, you make them respect you. You can do it, and when you finally find your footing, you’ll be one of the best to ever do it. Mark my words.” 

You’ve never been one to build up false hopes in anyone, far too familiar with the sting of disappointment. So every word leaving your mouth drips with sincerity. Joe is so much more than a “pretty face” or someone who got lucky by being born into a wrestling dynasty with a golden spoon in his mouth. He’s worked his ass off, you see how he works his ass off, so the last thing you’d want to witness is him become his own worst enemy by getting too into his head.

“You’ll see. They boo now, but pretty soon they’ll be cheering.” Moving to your knees, you lift your arms in a theatrical display. “Roman, Roman, Roman.” You yelp when his strong arms pull you into his lap, legs spread on either side of his thick thighs. “Would you let me hype you up? Like, damn.”

His smile, so beautiful and genuine, warms your soul. His spirits are lifted, and that’s all that matters. Joe’s hands are on your hips, palms massaging you through your shorts. You move your arms around his neck, resting on his strong shoulders “Thank you.”

It’s at this moment, you foolishly allow yourself to wonder. Wonder what it would be like for this to be the norm, for him to always return to your place when he has time off or in between shows. Wonder what it would be like to consistently be this safe space for him, to be in his corner and not just in the shadows, but in the light. To be supporting him ringside. To be his.

And for a second, you pretend. You pretend that you are his, and he’s yours. That this is your man, and you’re his girl. Just the two of you. Nobody else.

But the comedown from that is devastating, like a boulder sitting on your chest, a butcher knife to your heart. Because he isn’t yours. He never was, and he never will be. 

Mood sullen, you lower your arms to separate yourself. “I should…” You clear your throat, climbing off of him. The air is suddenly too stuffy, the room too small. You need space. “I should go check on the cookies.” 

Joe’s not stupid, far from it. You know that he has to pick up on your 180 in mood, yet he doesn’t pursue you, doesn’t ask questions, and you’re thankful for that. You need to not be around him right now, not so close, not so connected, not so in love.

You need to let him go. ________

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

Joe’s in the midst of sliding his shirt over his head, sitting on the edge of the bed when your voice, low and quiet, stops him mid movement. “What?”

“I said.” You blow out a big breath, unsure why your chest suddenly feels so heavy. “I can’t do this anymore.”

At that, he angles his body so that he can look at you, assess your face. He’s a big eye contact person. “What are you talking about?”

Irritation piques. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joe.” Gesturing between the two of you, you kick the blankets off and quickly reach for your t-shirt that got discarded last night. Being naked in front of him suddenly feels uncomfortable. “This. It’s done.”

He pauses for a second and then shakes his head, resuming his dressing. “Okay.”

His tone is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he thinks you’re playing around. Of course he would be in one of those moods, where he’s more irritable, less receptive and fucking stubborn. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not doing this shit with you right now.” Joe gets up and continues dressing himself, prompting you to climb out of bed and move in front of him. 

He can’t avoid his way out of this. You won’t allow it. It’s time to finally rip the bandaid off. 

You’ve sat on this for the last two weeks, since he last left your apartment and you realized you’d stupidly allowed yourself to fall for this man. Fall for a man who walks around with a wedding ring on his left hand, who’s always had that wedding ring from the moment you met him. You’re not upset with him, not as much as you’re upset with yourself.

You grew up the product of an affair, felt the stinging pain of being rejected by a parent whose selfishness resulted in the creation of life, a life he wanted no part of. Seen how your mom literally begged your piece of shit father to be in your life, to play some role. Heard how he cruelly rejected her, rejected you, calling you your mother’s bastard. A mistake.

It devastated you so deeply that you still can’t really talk about it without getting emotional. 

And yet, you idiotically found yourself playing the same role you used to judge your mother for: the other woman. 

It’s a role you stepped in, and one you must now step out of.

“There’s nothing to do.” You run your hands over your face and shake your head. Choosing to have this conversation at almost 4 o’clock in the morning probably wasn’t the best move, but you also know that if you give yourself more time, you’ll find a reason not to do it. And you need to do this. “You have a wife, Joe. A whole ass woman who loves you and would probably let you fuck her just as much as you like to fuck me. Go be with her, and if not her, find someone else, cause I won’t be that for you. Not anymore.” 

You’re not exactly sure what part of what you just said registered with him, but it’s obvious something did by the change of tone he takes. “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from where it should have come a long time ago,” you answer, crossing your arms over your body. “This was never right, and I refuse to partake in it anymore. I won’t be your whore anymore.”

You didn’t expect hurt to flash in his beautiful eyes nor for him to move closer to you, that hurt intensifying when you back away. He can’t touch you. You can’t allow that, because all it takes is only touch, one longing gaze, and you’ll be putty in his hands. This has to end. “Is that really what you think you are to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you, Joe,” you answer, honestly. It’s something you’ve battled back and forth with for nearly three years. Just what is it about you that keeps him coming back, keeps him in your bedroom, inside of you. At face value, it’s the sexual compatibility between you. Below the surface level though, there’s maybe more. You’ve never allowed yourself to venture there, and you’re certainly not about to right now. You know how you feel about him, but you refuse to really ask yourself how he feels about you. “And truthfully, it doesn’t matter, cause it doesn’t change anything.”

“So, that’s just it?” His voice is wounded, handsome face painted into a mixture of scowl and a frown. “Almost three years, and you want to throw it all away, for what?”

“For what…..Joe, you are married. You have a whole wife at home. Whatever issues you have that cause you to step out, work that shit out. Learn how to be with her. Cause I’m not doing it any more. I—I can’t.” Emotion imbues your voice toward the end, and you hate that shit. You don’t want him to see, to know, how much this has been eating you up as of lately. “I’m gonna be 30 in a few years. I want to be married. I want to have a family. I deserve that, and I’ll never have it as long as I’m messing with you, so I’ve gotta let you go.” You swallow the deep lump in the back of your throat. “And you’ve gotta let me go.” 

This time, this time you can see the part that wounds him, that digs into his chest. You’ve gotta let me go. 

Joe is fast, fast enough to move directly in front of you, large hands holding your face. He says your name, desperate almost. “Tell me what to do, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just….” He stops, and you close your eyes, refusing to see if it’s his own emotions coming up. You can barely handle your own cascade of feelings right now and refuse to take on his. “I can’t lose you.”

What you want…..

What you want is for him to never leave. What you want is for him to stay with you, to be with you. What you want is for him to have never met Jadah, never married her, never committed his life to her. 

What you want is for him to be yours and only yours, but what you want….is also what you can never have. 

“I—I want you to leave, Joe.” The words burn your lips, scorch your throat, ache your soul. “And this time….don’t come back.”

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to see the result of your heartbreaking, even if honest request. It’s because you know seeing him hurt will only cause your resolve to crumble, and you can’t have that. You have to be strong, have to be the woman your mother couldn't.

So, you remain there, remain silent as he steps away from you, his touch vanishing. There’s such an emptiness in his wake.

It’s only when you hear the front door of your apartment shut that you finally feel it, the caving of your stomach, the heavy lump move from the back of your throat, the release of the loud sob you didn’t realize you’d been keeping at bay. 

It’s when you finally allow yourself to feel all of the emotions of a woman who just told the only man she’s ever loved to leave. 

If only you knew his departure was just the beginning of the rest of your life.

[chocostrwberry]

I was thinking it be cool if Marinette was extremely lucky-

Like it’s a part of her character. She even introduces herself as “I’m Marinette, and I would say I’m a pretty lucky girl!”

Marinette being the type of person who would tell you stuff like “Oh I was worried about eating out today but then I found a 50 dollar bill so everything worked out!” Or “Apparently the road to school was blocked off, but I got there just in time for it to clear out so I wasn’t late to school!”

She finds a lil white dog at the park one day, spends some time looking for the owner out of kindness, and the owner turns out to be an old woman. BUT that old woman is extremely wealthy and a few months later turns out she had decided to sponsor Marinette’s education in her will so she can go to the most private school in Paris

Because she stands up for Juleka, Marinette starts dating Luka, and it turns out he’s one of Jagged Stone’s children so he put her on an album cover as a present AND free publicity for her designs.

Adrien, a TOP MODEL falls in love with her because she returns his mother’s necklace instead of destroying it, basically establishing the love of her life and a secure future if she likes him back.

Nino saying “This is Marinette’s world and we’re all just living in it” as a joke-

But when she gets the Ladybug miraculous, her life starts to fall apart. It’s kinda ironic, that the miraculous of luck happened to make her life worse off, but that might just be a silly side effect of being the holder? Like fate has it where it’s attracted to lucky people, but then it neutralizes it?

And so throughout the show, there are moments where like “everything turned out okay in the end”, but mostly it’s just one super slide of her civilian life going downhill. She still has moments where good things happen to her seemingly out of nowhere, but I’d like to think now they don’t last as long as she’s use to. They’re more fleeting, if that makes sense, because something always happens that ruins it.

Chloe invites her to her birthday party because they’re finally not enemies anymore, but then takes the blame for ruining it

Dates chat noir, her idol and crush, but he breaks up with her and gets akumatized

So you see her going from this happy-go-lucky girl who’s just like “Hee hee, oh well!” to a paranoid and anxious “I have to be careful, something bad is going to happen soon.”

[morphean42]

Rewatching Falsettos I was suddenly struck by an epiphany that I’m sure someone else has had at some point, but I needed to write out. This ending scene from “March of the Falsettos” jumped out at me from the first watching, but even though I recognised the nod to the “See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil (and lesser known do no evil)”, I didn’t know what it meant. Today, I tried to piece it together, and I think I’ve gotten it. These poses represent core attributes of the characters, as well as Trina’s view of them, so click the read more to hear the ravings of a mad man wayyyyyy too obsessed with this show

The idea of ‘evil’ to me is very loose. It can represent a lot of things for these characters; their actions towards each other, their character flaws, etc. But, for this analysis, one can replace ‘evil’ with ‘truth’. Each of the characters refuses to see, speak, hear, or ‘do’ the truth (please excuse the lack of grammar for that last one), and that is where the ‘evil’ stems from. Taking into account this is mostly based on Trina’s view of the men, I think ‘truth’ fits in well.

Let’s start with the one who fits in least— Jason. “March of the Falsettos” is a physical manifestation of how Trina views the men in her life (as childish and immature), but some slack is given to her son. He doesn’t sing his lines in falsetto, because we acknowledge he is in fact a child, and has more of an excuse to act as such. So, take his analysis with a grain of salt. The boy has every right to be a little selfish— he’s 10.

So, Jason has his hands over his eyes, representing ‘See No Evil’. This is a direct nod to his character flaw; his view of the world with him at the center. Although his parents are less than good to him, he still sees them through unfair lenses— ‘My mother’s no wife/My father’s no man’. He sings ‘everybody’s yelling and everybody’s ruining it’ in “Everyone Hates His Parents” because he is unhappy with how his Bar Mitzvah is turning out and wants to simply cancel it. He doesn’t have a concept of doing things for other people (again, he’s a child, I’m not blaming him per se), so he is blind to the will of others and refuses to see their side. In addition to this, even when Mendel tells him Whizzer will most likely die, Jason pleads with G-d to save him. He still views himself as the center of his world, thus Mendel’s line ‘Life’s not all about him’.

In addition to this, his ‘See No Evil’ means something when thought about from Trina’s perspective. She thinks her son is blind to the truth of the world, this son who stays inside playing chess alone, this son who ‘seems like an idiot to [Trina]’. She worries Jason will turn out like these other men in her world, blind to everyone but himself.

Now we come to Mendel, who has his hand over his mouth in ‘Speak No Evil’. Mendel’s flaw throughout the show is his refusal to accept the truth of any situation. He tells Jason to ‘feel alright for the rest of your life’ instead of actually trying to help, he is ‘frightened of questions’, he repeats over and over ‘I’ll make you well’ to Whizzer in the hospital. He will never say anything negative, nor will he allow others to do so. Even in the end of the show, he tells Jason they don’t know ‘when or if’ Whizzer will get better— he is still not accepting that it’s a definite thing. He believes that if he and those around him just don’t speak about the real problems, they’ll go away.

Trina’s view on Mendel is complicated here. In the next song she agrees to marry him, of course, and we know she at least likes him (the most of all three adults she knows). She says that Mendel ‘decides the role to assume’. She looks down on the fact that he can’t speak the truth to her, that he’s expecting this happy wife, this perfect new family. He wants her to play along with him and make their home together, even if she sings ‘liking our lives’ instead of loving. Even if he’s better than Marvin ever was, there’s still an element of control here. Mendel wants this family, and he wants them to all pretend nothing is ever wrong again.

Marvin, our titular character, is in the ‘Hear No Evil’ position. This one is fairly straight forward— he wants control and will never listen to the needs of those around him. He can’t hear what they actually need, he simply does what he wants. He also struggles with his masculinity throughout Act 1, his outward misogyny and need for the nuclear family (his treatment of Trina and Whizzer), so he imagines himself at the top of his family system. He will never take any other opinions, or counsel, in his decisions, seeing that as weakness. He’s similar to Jason in this regard, as he only hears what he wants to (like Jason only sees what he wants). He ignores the pain around him to pursue his own desires, he covers his ears and moves on.

Trina, of course, despises Marvin at this point in the show. Her subconscious showing Marvin in ‘Hear No Evil’ can tell us a lot about their relationship, how she was never seen as equal in decisions. Marvin always put her to the side, not listening to her needs, acting without thinking of her.

Whizzer is complicated. I’ve seen people laugh at his pose before, saying we’ve got ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, and Gay’, but I think he represents the ‘Do No Evil’. This final character is not often seen with the other three, and can be depicted with arms over the chest or covering the genitals. It wouldn’t make sense to have Whizzer be the outlier (especially because the fourth depiction of evil does exist), so I’m assuming he is supposed to be ‘Do No Evil’.

This fits in well with Whizzer’s flaws throughout the show. He doesn’t accept responsibility for his relationship with Marvin; seen in the lines ‘I’m not responsible’ during “Late For Dinner” or ‘I will not accept blame’ in “Games I Play”. He sleeps around, despite Marvin wanting monogamy, and clearly did not have an issue hooking up with a married man. Whizzer fundamentally doesn’t think his actions have consequences, he believes he has done nothing wrong (he has done no evil). Whizzer also has a hard time admitting to his love for Marvin. He says it ‘depends on the day’, he flat out says ‘no’ when asked if he loves him. He doesn’t want to show his love for fear of being too vulnerable, so he hides and doesn’t do anything about it.

To take this even further, him being ‘Do No Evil’ can represent his later question of ‘why me of all men’ when he is dying. He hasn’t done anything to deserve his death, and ‘all men get what they deserve’, right?

Moving on to how Trina sees Whizzer. He’s come into her life and ruined her marriage, though she ‘wants to hate him’ she can’t. She views him as the cause of her recent hardships, his actions being to blame. He is ‘Do No Evil’ to her because he has done evil in taking Marvin away (though it is obvious Trina is better off because of it). He has upset the careful balance of her world by breaking down the lies of her marriage and exposing the truth— Marvin never loved her, could never love her. She puts him in ‘Do No Evil’ because what he has done is what the rest of the men won’t— see, hear, speak the truth even at the detriment of her family.

Another way to view this is, of course, the fact that ‘Do No Evil’ is rarely seen with the others. Trina is separating Whizzer from the other men, not putting him in the same category as the rest of the ‘family’. He views himself as an outsider as well, yes he’s part of the group, but only as a technicality. Only as Marvin’s lover. Once he leaves Marvin, he is easily taken out of the equation and the remaining three do not feel the loss.

My conclusion is such: Each of the poses our men do represents the character flaw they must overcome throughout the show, as well as how Trina views them in her mind. I really hope this made any sort of sense, and if someone has already said all of this well… I guess it can’t hurt to be thorough.

I’m way too tired to read through this again so if there are spelling mistakes please print out this post, correct it in red pen, and send it to me by carrier pigeon.

[runninriot]

no reason to hide

written for @steddie-week day 1 | prompt: secret relationship

rated: t | wc: 4.5k | tags: Max POV, Max & Eddie friendship, Max & Steve Friendship, Steve and Eddie are keeping secrets, coming out, post Vecna, everybody lives | complete fic on ao3

The first time she notices something strange is going on between Eddie and Steve, is when Max wakes up in the middle of the night from one of those ghastly dreams that have been haunting her since the whole Vecna fiasco went down.

She does what she always does when she can’t fall back asleep - goes to sit on the steps outside of her home to listen to the familiar sounds of the trailer park, looking at the sky, the stars and the moon, reminding herself that she’s back in the real world. That the Upside Down and all its monsters are a memory of the past.

It’s been almost a year and things have finally gone back to how they were. Well, mostly.

Sure, those nights where the monsters come crawling back into her subconscious are draining sometimes, but after everything that happened to her, nightmares, a walking stick, and glasses are a small price to pay. She could’ve paid a much higher one, could’ve lost it all. She’s fine. And at least the nightmares are a burden they all share.

Her friends have them too, those restless nights. And even if that doesn’t make it better, the fact that they are in this together makes it easier, at least.

Max knows she can always count on them – her now-again-boyfriend Lucas and the stupid but lovable dorks Dustin and Mike. Even El and Will, who went back to California, are always just one phone call away.

She has Steve, who – while Nancy and Robin went off to college – didn’t leave.

He’s still here, still taking care of them in his annoyingly loving way, even though they don’t need him to be their protector anymore, technically.

She’d never say it out loud, would rather eat her own tongue than to admit it, but to know that he’s part of her life is kind of... comforting. Because he’s graduated from babysitter to friend long ago, has proven time and again that he’s a good guy with a big heart. Max likes him a lot, can understand why Dustin was always so drawn to him.

And then, there’s Eddie.

Before being caught in a war against evil and nearly walking into the light at the end of the tunnel together, she never really cared much for him at all. (And no, she did not have a very stupid, very tiny crush on him when she learned about him playing guitar in this awesome band. Anyone who suggests otherwise can talk it out with her fist, okay?!)

She had often wondered how much truth was behind all the rumours, the Satanic Freak allegations. Because while he obviously liked to cause trouble every now and then, he always seemed... nice. A little boisterous, maybe, but never violent or evil.

And then she got to know him when they were trying to prove his innocence while being caught in their final battle against evil, and realised how much they had in common.

How Eddie, like her, wears a mask to protect his vulnerable pieces inside. Carrying the burden of a broken home and too much pent-up anger on his shoulders.

Max sees a version of herself in Eddie, and seeing how far he’s come – even if he himself doesn’t think he has – is encouraging, in a way.

She never told anyone, but out of everyone, Eddie might have played the biggest part in her recovery.

When she opened her eyes for the first time after being in a coma, the first blurry face she saw wasn’t Lucas or Steve or even her own mother.

No. It was Eddie.

Half his body in bandages, leaning heavy on his crutches holding him upright where he was standing beside her hospital bed, smiling down at her, which looked painful because of the stitches on his left cheek, but it was warm and friendly and honest.

And in that moment, when the memories came back and the world came crushing down, Max was glad it was him that watched her fall apart. Because with Eddie, she didn’t feel the need to pretend that she was fine. He let her cry and wince in pain without commenting on it, just took her hand – no words of pity, no promises of false hopes, just a tight squeeze of her hand in silent support.

Their friendship evolved from there, got even stronger when they were both fighting their way through physical therapy, from frustrating setbacks to miraculous accomplishments.

He’s annoying sometimes, like a brother, but he’s the kind of friend that you love to fight with because you know they’ll never hold a grudge; Eddie's friendship is unconditional and Max cherishes that more than she'd ever tell him.

Eddie, like her, finds it hard to sleep sometimes. So, more times than not, when she goes to sit on the steps in the middle of the night, she finds him outside his own trailer – smoking in silence or listening to music with his headphones on.

They don’t usually talk, just share a few moments together in peace until their minds have calmed enough for them to get ready to conquer another day.

This is why Max doesn’t startle when she hears the familiar squeak of the Munson’s trailer door. Only when a car door gets slammed close, does she look up.

Weirdly enough, it isn’t Eddie who’s going for a ride. It isn’t his van that slowly turns and rolls out of the driveway.

It’s Steve’s car; there’s no doubt about it. She knows that car better than Steve likes to be reminded of.

    What the hell is he doing at Eddie’s place at 2 in the morning?, Max wonders, worries that maybe something is wrong.

But moments later, the trailer door opens again and Eddie steps out, dressed in his pajama pants, lighting a cigarette like he always does. He seems calm, happy. Not at all like something bad has happened.

Until he notices her and his eyes widen in shock, mouth hanging open with the cigarette stuck to his bottom lip.

   “Max! How- how long have you been out here?”

She doesn’t exactly know why she doesn’t tell the truth but something about the way Eddie looks at her tells Max, he might not want her to know about his nightly visitor.

   “Just came out like, maybe a second before you did,” she lies, watching his shoulders drop as the tension in his body eases.

   “Oh, uh, okay. Nightmare?”

   “Yeah.”

   “You wanna talk?”

   “Nah, just needed some fresh air. You?”

   “I- I’m good. Just, uh, just couldn’t sleep.”

They sit there for a while, both awkwardly looking anywhere but at each other, before Max can’t take it anymore, says her goodnight and goes back inside.

There is probably a good explanation for it all. Maybe Steve couldn’t sleep, too. Maybe he went to Eddie for some weed? (Don’t act so surprised. She might just be a teen but she’s not stupid, okay?)

Whatever it is, Max will never know because going by the way Eddie reacted when he saw her, she’s sure he doesn’t want to be questioned about it.

It’s fine. It’s none of her business anyway.

And Max forgets about it entirely until something strange happens again a few weeks later...

keep reading

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Love Once, Live Twice

Aemond Targaryen x F!reader [ONE SHOT]

warnings: fluff to angst to fluff, war, depression, s*icide, s*icidal thoughts, mentions of r*pe, character death, multiple character deaths, feelings of hopelessness, smut (not explicit), a happy ending tho!! Not proofread sorry

WC: 3.5k

You had met Aemond when you were little, after he lost his eye, Queen Alicent was looking for a lady-in-waiting to accompany her daughter as her daughter mostly stayed alone, lost in her world accompanied by non human creatures.

None managed to stay for too long, finding her too be odd and creepy, except you, you had always encouraged Princess Helaena's hobbies and showed genuine interest, and the princess great appreciated it.

You and her had grown close, and she had introduced you to her brothers, Aegon, Aemond and Daeron, Aemond was reluctant as first, he was insecure, his wound being fresh, he looked disfigured and he didn't want to frighten you.

But to his surprise, you didn't really care, you greeted him the same way as you had Aegon and Daeron and sometimes even sought out to him on your own to have a conversation or two and for the first time in his life, he felt that someone genuinely cared for him besides his mother.

Helaena had days where she just wanted to be left alone with no one's company, and you understood that and respected her privacy and her need for some alone time, the queen never really understood why because she thought you were close, but you had told her that regardless of whether they are close or not, the presence of people can sometimes be overwhelming, even if it's a close friends.

So you spent those days accompanying Prince Aemond, since you guys were closer in age, with him being only a few moons older than you, He had the same routine, train, study, eat and sleep, he would spend hours at the library after the teachings of the maesters to seek out knowledge of his own and you would often accompany him during those hours.

You both would bask in comfortable silence as you would read fairytales while he sat opposite and read about the histories and laws, you had tried learning but later realised that it bored you to oblivion, so you stuck to adventure, romance novels.

Those moments shared together in your childhood made your bond with all of them stronger, you had been the one to suggest sapphires for Prince Aemond to wear in his eye when he had healed and left an empty socket, he first considered emeralds, as they were green and he wanted to honour his mother.

You were surprised when he asked for your opinion, and your choice was the sapphire since you said it would suit his beautiful valyrian features overall better, and that it was also your favourite jewel.

And so sapphire it was.

Time passed by quickly and your and aemond's relationship blossomed more, you and helaena had also grown closer, she had grown quite fond of you, you both were good friends.

Aemond's nighteenth name day had passed and yours was coming soon, the prince had been receiving marriage proposals since his sixteenth name day but he had rejected them all, you hadnt really known why until your name day had finally arrived.

And under the godswood tree, after the procession of your name day had ended, which you had refused for it to take place but alicent said it was special and said that it was the least she could do for you, you went out on a walk before Aemond pulled aside and when the moon shone brightly he had given you a sapphire necklace before kissing you.

The kiss was soft and gentle, his lips moving against yours in gentle rhythm as you don the sapphire necklace around your neck, his hand wrapped around your waist while you held onto to his shoulder.

A shiver went through you when he pulled away and gave you a smirk, you slapped his chest lightly “what was that for?!” you whisper yelled and he chuckled before pulling you into an embrace.

“Mhm, is it wrong to show appreciation for my favorite Lady or her big day?” he felt his chest vibrate when his spoke, “You could've just gave me the gift and parted, yet you kissed me my prince, that is a very indecent behavior for an unmarried man and a maiden to partake in.”

“I intend to marry you, My lady.” he says and your heart stops for a moment before you pull away in shock and look at him, he looks down at you and cups your cheek, “Do not jest, My prince.” you say and grab his arms. He leans in.

“I am not, I do fully intend to marry you, I have wanted to, ever since I was of age, I rejected all those proposals because the one I had truly wanted was you, My lady. You have been with me through thick and thin, accompanied me since my childhood, and I assume it is safe to say that you have completely smitten me. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, with you as my Wife, the mother to my children.” you felt butterflies in your stomach at his confession, you embraced him again, in a silent agreement and also shyness, you felt him chuckle before he placed a kiss to your forehead.

Oh how you wished things would last like forever.

But they didn't.

They were not meant to.

You were aware of the growing tensions in between the targaryen family, and when viserys had finally died, hell broke free.

At first you thought things can be settled, and will go smoothly if rhaenyra had accepted the peace treaty, but she hadn't, and that was the final attempt in mending the drift between the house.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces when the maids had informed you that prince aemond had flown to storms end to give his hand in marriage to one of the baratheon daughters in order to secure their alliance. You knew it was foolish of you to hope that you and him would be endgame, you are never meant to be.

You remember crying to Helaena about it, she consoled you in her arms, your good friend and whispered loving words to you just like you had to her during all the time spent together, you were grateful for her.

You thought about confronting him when he returned from storm's end, preparing what you would say to him, but it wasn't how you had intended to take place.

The loud sound of doors slamming open and close in your chamber woke you from your slumber as you squint and sat up, legs dangling off the edge as you tried adjusting your vision to see more clearly, it was raining heavily outside, a tall figure strided towards you and fell to it's knees by your legs, pulling you by the waist before cradling it's face on your thighs, hands tightly wrapped around you, shivering, your nightgown getting wet.

“Aemond?” you questioned, noticing the silver blonde hair and the only response you got from him was a cracked sob, “I- i didn't mean to do it- i lost control. I- i didn't mean, im- I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” you felt warm tears fall on your nightgown, soaking through the material before hitting your thighs.

“Shhh, it's okay, what happened Aem?” you cooed gently, shushing him as you brushed his hair in a way to bring him comfort, he finally lifted his face to look at you, you had noticed how soulless his eye was, the usual glint of light gone from it.

He swallowed thickly, “I'm sorry, for everything.” he said, and just then you were reminded of his betrothal, but decided to push that topic down for some other time and you sat quietly, waiting for him to open up.

“I killed him.” he says

Your froze before blinking and looking at him, “Killed who?” you asked confused, he took in a deep breath.

“Lucerys, My nephew, I killed him— I didn't mean- I just wanted to scare him— but— but— Vhagar was attacked by Arrax and I lost control, and before I knew it— lucerys was no more, his dragon was more— their pieces falling from the sky.” his voice cracked as he explained, his grip tightening around your waist.

Your blood ran cold, you knew what this meant, they would all find out in the morning and he would be named as a kinslayer, but that isn't what bothered you, it's the fact that his words would not be believed by anyone and that the blacks would strike the moment they found out.

“Come here, Aemond.” you lifted him up before pressing your lips to his, he lifted himself up, not breaking the kiss before pushing you onto the bed as he deepened the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, he bucked his hips against you.

“Do you mind? I know this isn't how—” before he could continue you hushed him and agreed that it was okay, you both needed this so desperately.

You spent the next few moments coupling, his hips thrusting violently into your cunt, as if he was channeling his anger towards himself in such a way and you took it and encouraged him to do so, it wasn't your first time, he had taken your maidenhead already, of course no one knew as all the times you've both spent intimately like this were done so in secret, he had neared his edge and spilt himself deep inside of you, sighing into your neck.

That night, you had comforted aemond to sleep, cleaning both yourselves up before propping yourself next to him, cradling his head between your chest as you whispered words of comfort and reassurance to him, pressing kisses on his forehead, you had never seen him vulnerable.

If you ignored the context, it would be a loving moment overall, but alas, it can't be that easy can it?

Things got worse.

A son for a son they said.

You clung tightly onto to helaena as he hugged the headless body of her son, jaeherys and weeped loudly, screaming and sobbing as the blood stained her dress, “my baby, my baby my baby” she kept whispering and cooing lovingly at the headless body, you hugged her tightly, she refused to let go of the body but you had pried her off for the guards to take it away from her.

You didn't attend the funeral, not being able to see the sad look on your dear friend's face.

Time passed by, and Helaena's condition only got worse and worse, she would scream and wail loudly, she was gone to madness, and you felt burning hatred for the blacks at this, poor Jaeherys, Poor Helaena, they had done nothing to them.

You lost any remaining of respect for them the moment someone had informed that their original plan was also to have Helaena and Jaehaera raped, but they had only succeeded in killing Jaeherys, You grit your teeth.

It was not until a few days later, in your chambers, when you were informed that Helaena had thrown herself from Maegors Holdfast.

You felt dead.

You watched as her body was retrieved from the spikes below, her face holding an odd expression of peace, you sobbed loudly, pushing through the guards and getting to her, the guards had tried to hold you back but you kept thrasing in their hold.

You screamed, begging them to let go of you, so you may hold your friend one last time, tears fell from your face down onto the ground before they all looked in pity at you before queen alicent gave a sad nod to the guards with tears in her eyes to let you go and they did.

You immediately cradled Helaena's head bought it into your lap, clutching onto it and crying loudly, you don't know how long you stayed like that, sobbing uncontrollably before you felt someone tug up at your arms and it was Aemond with a sad expression on his face, you let go of her and hugged aemond tightly, you didn't care what people thought at that moment, you sobbed loudly into his chest.

You knew he felt guilty, that everything was his fault, although you knew it was half true, you couldn't hear him treating himself that way.

That entire day was spent with you crying in his arms, him consoling you, you knew he was in pain too, he loved his sister a lot, you both mourned the loss together in each other arms.

Days, Weeks, Moons passed by

And with every loss, you lost a piece of yourself.

Aemond now ruled as prince regent due to Aegons terrible condition which showed no signs of getting better.

You were helpless.

You had always been helpless.

Even now, when you were informed of Aemond's death.

Aemond had told you about the witch he found when he slaughtered the strong house, Alys rivers was her name, she was a bastard of the strong house he said, she had told him that she would help him in defeating his uncle, daemon.

Who Aemond despised.

It was also the day you broke the news that you were carrying his child inside your womb, he was so happy, it didn't matter that the babe would be considered, he couldn't care less, it was also the day that he told you that he didn't want to marry Floris Baratheon, that it had always been you, and would forever be you, but he was forced to, as it was his duty, and you understood him.

You remember kissing him before he left, cradling his face gently, giving him a warm smile, he promised that he would return safely, and that everything would be alright.

You allowed yourself to hope.

One thing about war is that you should never hope.

Only fools hope.

You fell to your knees the moment you were informed of his death, frozen up.

How many more losses?

How many more?

You couldn't do this anymore.

You lost everything you held meaning for.

Helaena, Aemond, Queen Alicent who was lost to depression.

She loathed the color green now.

The people who you cherished the most.

You thought about ending it, just as Helaena had, but the dragon breathing inside you had stopped you so, your child.

You lost him, but he left a small fragment of himself behind, in your womb, your child, who was now growing with each day, your only solace in times of battle and war.

But alas, they wouldn't let you have it either.

The son of Rhaenyra, Aegon III, to quickly fix everything, he was wed to jaehera, was taken and put on the throne to rule, and in his rule, your execution was announced.

For carrying the seed of Aemond Targaryen, they would ensure that none of the green bloodline should carry forward.

When your head was placed in the guillotine, you thought about all the moments leading up to this moment now, tears streaming down your face as you prayed to the gods above, that if you were given another life, another chance, you would wish things played out differently.

Your last thought was of Aemond, the boy you loved and spent time with, you loved him dearly.

That was the final thing in your mind before everything went dark.

You woke up with a painful headache, groaning you turned over to grab your phone and check the time, 7:13AM, you sighed heavily before getting up from the bed and rubbing your head to soothe the ache.

You had the same dream again, although no matter how many times you tried to remember entirely, it would always be blank, you couldn't remember the faces, nor what went down, you just remember crying and feeling miserable.

You were visiting the ancient building of red keep not far from the city, from a few hundred years ago, it was last burnt down by daenerys targaryen before they managed to rebuild it and preserve it ever since, it became a tourist spot since there were no more targaryens to inherit it, and you would be going with your friends as a way to hang out and also make the time worth it since they were all history freaks.

You noticed a text from your best friend, Helaena. She asked if you were up and that you would be visiting the keep at 11AM, you had plenty of time you thought and got up and started your day slowly.

You remember meeting Helaena online last year, you both clicked immediately and she had come many times to visit you and recently moved into the city to further study in a nearby university.

You remember her telling that she had 3 brothers whom she cherished very dearly, she had blonde hair and silver eyes which looked very godly, it was only then she mentioned that she was of valyrian descent, and that her native home was in Lys, where back in history when Old Valyria was destroyed they all sought refugee to.

You snapped out of your thoughts and got ready, getting in your car and driving to Helaena's place and picking her up first before fetching the rest of your friends.

“Oh by the way! Remember how I said I had brothers?” Helaena asks and you nod, “Well one of them is visiting town today, and he said he'll directly meet us at the red keep since he was also here for tourism purposes!” she says excitedly and you smile at her, “That's great, hel!”

You had parked your car in the parking lot located underground the keep, you noticed many cars around, I guess it was to be expected as it is a famous tourist spot, although you would be considered a local, you had never visited the keep, you didn't know why.

You all made your way out before entering the gates, you noticed how familiar it felt to you, and you walked front, leading your group along and helping them not get lost, and after a while, you all decided to part ways and explore further and deeper.

You didn't know where you wanted to go, and so, you trusted your body to it and let your feet take you to where you wanted to.

They brought you to stand in front of a tree, which seemed to have been taken perfect care of, the godswood, they called it.

You were surprised how this tree managed to withstand such destruction, obviously there were noticeable changes than how it looked before which you found strange, as it was your first time seeing this tree. You were lost in your thought until a voice broke you out of it.

“Y/n...?”

Your body froze, and your heart started beating loudly, that voice.

You recognized it.

You slowly turned around to look at the source.

And then as if on cue, a strong wind blew your direction, as you felt your head pang in painful ways before you remembered it all.

The dreams you saw, weren't dreams.

Those faces were now complete, all puzzles fell into place together.

It felt like someone was trying to mix oil and water in your brain, the overwhelming memories of you.

You let out a sob.

“A-Aemond?” your voice cracked and tears dripped from his eyes before he smiled and rushed to you, embracing you tightly, you hugged him back, taking in his scent.

“I missed you, I missed you.” he hugged you tightly, afraid that if he let's you go, he would lose you again, slowly you were running out of breath so you pulled apart before smiling up at him.

“I missed you too.” you say, no other words were exchanged between you both, you basked in the realisation that Aemond was back, you felt him kiss your forehead.

“I promised I would return didn't I?” Aemond spoke, trying to joke, you punched his chest lightly, “Yeah, and what? It took you 500 years almost.” you rolled your eyes playfully and he chuckled at that

“I guess you two found each other huh...” you hear Helaena's voice and you look at her, a smile wounding up your face before you pulled away from Aemond and went and hugged her.

“How long have you remembered?” you asked, “This morning, I had a dream.” she says and you tell her the same thing.

“It seems the gods have decided to reunite us all again.” Helaena said and you smiled, you knew remembering your past life would also bring in the sorrow.

Helaena remembering that she lost her child, and you too.

But all that didn't matter now, she and you both knew it was a new life, and she currently didn't have sons, nor was she married to her brother, and neither was there war.

Things were different.

You smiled at that, the gods heard your cries and pleas, and acknowledged all of the pain you went through.

“You know Aemond, you better keep your word this time about marrying me, otherwise maybe I'll go on dates and get myself a boyfriend.” you say playfully and he nudges your shoulder at that.

“I'll kill him.” he says so seriously that it has you and helaena laughing.

Things were perfect.

And they stayed that way.

[icaberries]

What if the Vinsmokes were in the Wano Arc?

Go read Part 1 here but TL;DR the Vinsmokes regain their ability to feel emotions and escape Germa with Sanji and the Strawhats.

Mostly headcanons with a side of canon plot.

They’re still modded physically, but now their pain receptors are active so they’re dealing with the ramifications of years of neglecting their body. Ichiji is partially blind from using Valkyrie, Niji has burn marks all over his body, and Yonji has chronic pain in his wrists. It's a struggle, but they feel like they deserve it after all the torment they inflicted.

Ichiji comes across traditional tattoo shops in Wano and decides to get new tattoos on a whim. The ‘1’ tattoo he had before had been his first rebellion against his father and now that he’s free he wants to add more to it. He gets tattoos for all his siblings along his other arm—a pink butterfly for Reiju, a blue lightning bolt for Niji, a green clover for Yonji and a yellow sun for Sanji. It helps to ground him when the Feelings™ get overwhelming and reminds him that he’s not alone in this world. 

The drama in Shokugeki no Sanji with Sanji’s soba stall still happens, only this time he’s backed up by the rest of his siblings who glares at the soba competitors in submission. 

Reiju is first in line when the soba stall officially opens. She’d had to fight her brothers and the Strawhats for it. Robin is a close second but only because Reiju was distracted by her. If you know what I mean ;) 

The handcuffs left marks on Sanji’s wrists. Surprisingly, it’s Niji who asks why Sanji’s hands are so precious to him and Sanji tells them about Baratie and Zeff. There’s something about the sparkle in Sanji’s eyes as he talks that draws them in, the way he speaks so highly and softly about his found family on the East Blue. They wonder, if somewhere down the line, Sanji would speak about them with that same fond tone. 

Niji gifts Sanji a pair of dark brown leather gloves, long enough to cover the marks on his wrist. Sanji wears it to the raid and Niji is quite proud of it and claims he must be Sanji's favorite brother now. Until Ichiji chimes in and says that Sanji’s hairstyle as Stealth Black/Soba Mask is more similar to his and confidently declares himself as Sanji’s favorite brother. Ichiji and Niji argue for hours.  

(It’s actually Yonji who's the favorite. Sanji only has one little brother and he’s got a soft spot for him.) 

Just imagine Law, Basil Hawkins and X Drake watching Soba Mask. Now imagine them seeing a group of brightly-colored siblings cheering on Soba Mask, while they themselves look like Sparking Red, Electric Blue, Wench Green and Poison Pink. It’s a good day to be a North Blue fanboy in Wano. 

AND NOW FOR SOME ANGST!

They witness Sanji awakening his modifications and for a brief moment they’re happy that Sanji caught up to them like he always wanted, until they see the horrified look on Sanji’s face. He looks so afraid to turn out like them, to the point that he’d ask his own crewmate (Zoro) to take him down if he ever ended up like them. They’re not even mad. They’re just sad and guilty that Sanji felt that way. 

There’s a brief lull in the battle and Reiju pulls her brothers aside to tell them about their mother and her sacrifice. She told Sanji that story so he’d remember that his life was worth living and being kind. Now she’s telling the same story to Ichiji, Niji and Yonji so they can remember the same thing. Sora wanted them to live and be good. 

After his fight with Queen, the brothers hug it out. Reiju may or may not have taken a picture.

Right after that, the brothers now hug Reiju! Because she deserves it alright! Years of pretending for Judge, of keeping her brother's in check and dealing with their mother's death, Reiju did her best to be there for all of them. Now she gets to see her little brothers grow up into the good people their mother wanted them to be and she can finally stop pretending. She can be herself again <3

(I love Reiju sm yall but that's just the eldest daughter syndrome talking)

The road to redemption is paved with triumphs and stumbles. It’s just fortunate for them that Sanji has a good sense of direction. 

AND NOW BACK TO FLUFF!

Yonji continues to cement himself as the favorite when he calls Chuji the cutest thing in the world and proceeds to share his snacks with the little guy. Niji and Ichiji never stood a chance. Little brother is strong and is hitting all of Sanji's buttons.

The worst part of regaining emotions though? It’s not the gooey mushy feelings of love, or the cold guilt and shame over their past mistakes, it’s the annoyance they now feel whenever they witness Roronoa Zoro flirt with their oblivious brother. They can’t stand him. Unfortunately, he makes Sanji happy so they’re forced to seethe on the sidelines while Zoro picks another fight/flirting session with Sanji. 

Reiju doesn’t tell them that it’s not just Zoro they have to worry about. Trafalgar Law keeps finding an excuse to check Sanji over for his “health”, a jaguar mink keeps asking him out to smoke together, don’t even get her started on Basil Hawkins and X Drake asking her for her blessing. That’s not even counting Sanji’s other suitors who aren’t in Wano right now. Their baby brother is quite the popular guy.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi! Sorry to annoy you, but can you maybe write a story about Maleficent and Hades's other child? She ( or whatever gender ) is Mal's sister, and they genuinely have a good relationship, but she grew up with Hades. She and Hades were like best friends. She had black and blue hair to match him and her mom. She was neglected by Maleficent, because Maleficent always paid more attention to Mal and in turn it caused a lot of arguments between her and Hades, causing their split up. Fast Forward, the reader, Chloe, and Red go back in time, and the reader sees her parents so in love and happy. She is filled with bitterness seeing them, but also longing, cause she never really got to know her mom. She tried keeping her distance and helping Chloe and Red. Little did she know, she caught her parents attention, who were trying to figure out the confusing person with dark black and blue hair. But the reader mostly got the attention of Maleficent. I don't know what else, except maybe make it angsty, but in the end make it sweet. Again, I kept saying 'she' but it could be gender neutral, if you want of course! I've never requested a story before, so this feels weird. But thank you! :)

this is definitely a long one but it's okay lol ; also dw about sending long reqs (that goes to everyone) but maybe use the small font cause I do go back and look over when I'm writing / it's a bit of a scroll for others but it's totally okay!! ; but I can definitely try to do this, this seems really cool! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; this is kinda one run-on sentence but I really don't care 😔🙏

HADES & MALEFICENT ; a sense of belonging

summary ; as you go back in time to stop qoh's coup, you see your parents at merlins academy and catch attention of them, though they don't know who you are

warnings ; language, mentions/talk of parental neglect / arguing / stuff like that

track ; lonely is the muse, halsey

word count ; 1.2k

masterlist

You didn't go a day without blaming yourself for your parent's breakup. You were never enough for your mom. Never evil enough. You never listened. You were your father's kid, you guessed. Thankfully, you and your sister were still close, your parents never having put a hole in your relationship.

Though, seeing them here, like this, before you and Mal, it made your heart shatter. They were highschool sweethearts. You never knew that.

They seemed so in love, they seemed happy. It was like your entire existence ruined them entirely. Forget the underlying issues between them, you were the problem. You'd always be the problem.

You shouldn't have come. You couldn't fix history. You didn't even know why you lunged at Red while she tried to disarm Chloe. You saw that pocketwatch, you should've assumed it would do something. Though, you wouldn't blame Red, she had good intentions to stop her mother from becoming a tyrant. Messing with time and history would come with consequences, though, you just didn't know how yet.

But it didn't matter in this moment.

As you stand before Maleficent and Hades next to Red and Chloe, all you can feel is the numbness inside your heart. You could feel your heart constricting inside your body, like it was actively shattering here and now. They stand behind Uliana, her hand held in his.

It didn't matter to you that you were one of the first VK's to attend Auradon Prep, or that you helped outsmart Uma and save the king, or that you helped Mal's final decision to open up the Isle for good, you'd forever be a windchime in the window, catching mean, snarky comment that was thrown your way. You would always reassemble yourself to fit the perfect view of how your parents saw you. To Maleficent, a gift from Hades himself, sadly. To Hades, the best kid he could've ever asked for, even if he didn't agree with every decision you'd made in life.

You would just exist to decorate every miserable moment of their lives, including the past now, apparently. You were the muse to their world-renowned painter, the lonely muse who would forever be forgotten after being discarded, ar least to your mother. You couldn't begin to process what awful time paradox you were creating here.

As you walk away, following Chloe and Red back to the dorms to plan, your head hangs low. The past few minutes of actions had been erased from your kind as you blacked out, trapped in your thoughts. Your eyes has glazed over entirely, blindly following the duo you'd been dragged to the past with.

Your mother hissed at the audience who'd witnessed Uliana's fall into the enchanted fountain, something she did to scare you. Thank God she was a lizard now. Hades held his ember tight, his eyes fixed on you as you walked away.

Lonely is the muse.

You didn't know how or why, but you'd caught the attention of your parents.

The following afternoon, you decided to separate from Red and Chloe while they went to visit Bridget in her dorm, needing to borrow some powerful cookbook. You needed some air. You felt so heavy and held down here.

You run a hand over your navy blue and black hair, sitting in front of the fountain alone. You wanted to cry but there was no effort, no amount of emotion, left to do so.

You hated your mother because of how she treated you. You hated because you grieved the fact that you never knew her. She didn't tell you bedtime stories of her wicked past, she didn't teach you spells or how to be evil, you didn't know the damndest thing about her. You were always just a figment of her life to be tossed aside for her golden child, Mal. You spent years trying to become everything she'd ever wanted, and failed. Over and over. You were never enough for her.

You'd caught her attention here though. You were perfectly out of place for her to finally bat an eye to your presence. How ironic.

She slowly approaches from behind, her head slightly tilted, one arm crossed over her chest, her other hand held close to her face. She didn't know what to say, she just wanted to know who you were. You seemed so distantly familiar.

You quickly look over your shoulder, sensing her presence. She always felt like that, she always gave you that sixth sense. You walked on eggshells your whole life because of her. Her presence alone sent shivers up your spine.

"May I ask who you are?" she asks. "Where are you from, exactly?"

You blink, knowing you can't answer wholeheartedly. You couldn't tell her you were her kid, Y/n, one of two that she had with Hades on the Isle of the Lost.

"My name's Y/n. I'm... a transfer student. Far away place" you nod, quickly finding an excuse to give her, hoping she wouldn't see through you.

She slowly nods. "Your hair... I've never seen one of you with such a unique color. It doesn't look very... hero-like"

You glance back at Hades, who leans against a wall out of earshot, tossing his ember about. "Uh, yeah," you awkwardly chuckle. "I wouldn't say I'm a hero."

"Oh?" she smirks, quickly thinking to recruit you for whatever reason.

"I'm not staying for long," you quickly reply.

She nods, her smirk fading away. "Nice meeting you, I guess"

You nod, watching as she spins on her heels, returning to Hades, their hands intertwined as they depart, leaving you at the fountain alone again. You watch as they walk away, feeling the last fragments of your taped-together heart ripping apart.

All you wanted was to save that picture in your mind forever. To see them so content, to see them so proud of themselves. You really did ruin them. You'd ruin them in every timeline, and you couldn't fix it. You'd forever live knowing you broke them apart.

You did that to them.

And all you did was watch.

You knew you belonged with them, you knew you were supposed to be evil and follow in their footsteps. But you failed the moment you were born. Something just threw you off to her.

She couldn't ever love you.

At least she could pretend for Mal.

But what did you get? Nothing. Not even a thank you for trying to give her a second chance in that coronation hall. Not even a glance. You were invisible to her.

But here, you weren't invisible.

She wanted to know your name.

That was the most you'd ever gotten from her in your twenty years of life.

But you couldn't do anything. You couldn't ruin this for them so early on. You couldn't change their story to try and fix yourself. It doesn't work like that, you knew that. But something deep down inside wanted you to just reach out and make the most of it while you could.

You just wanted to know her. You just wanted to feel the warmth of her cold voice congratulating you for stealing candy from a baby or for scaring someone away, or lighting them on fire. It didn't matter. You wanted to make her proud. You watched on for years as Mal was her center of attention. Nothing you did was worthy for her to be proud of.

But here? You could make a difference.

A difference that wasn't worth making.

[antiporn-activist]

A Marketplace of Girl Influencers Managed by Moms and Stalked by Men

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/22/us/instagram-child-influencers.html

Seeking social media stardom for their underage daughters, mothers post images of them on Instagram. The accounts draw men sexually attracted to children, and they sometimes pay to see more.

Feb. 22, 2024

By Jennifer Valentino-DeVries and Michael H. Keller

The ominous messages began arriving in Elissa’s inbox early last year.

“You sell pics of your underage daughter to pedophiles,” read one. “You’re such a naughty sick mom, you’re just as sick as us pedophiles,” read another. “I will make your life hell for you and your daughter.”

Elissa has been running her daughter’s Instagram account since 2020, when the girl was 11 and too young to have her own. Photos show a bright, bubbly girl modeling evening dresses, high-end workout gear and dance leotards. She has more than 100,000 followers, some so enthusiastic about her posts that they pay $9.99 a month for more photos.

Over the years, Elissa has fielded all kinds of criticism and knows full well that some people think she is exploiting her daughter. She has even gotten used to receiving creepy messages, but these — from “Instamodelfan” — were extreme. “I think they’re all pedophiles,” she said of the many online followers obsessed with her daughter and other young girls.

Elissa and her daughter inhabit the world of Instagram influencers whose accounts are managed by their parents. Although the site prohibits children under 13, parents can open so-called mom-run accounts for them, and they can live on even when the girls become teenagers.

But what often starts as a parent’s effort to jump-start a child’s modeling career, or win favors from clothing brands, can quickly descend into a dark underworld dominated by adult men, many of whom openly admit on other platforms to being sexually attracted to children, an investigation by The New York Times found. 

For this investigation, the reporters analyzed 2.1 million Instagram posts, monitored months of online chats of professed pedophiles and interviewed over 100 people, including parents and children.

Thousands of accounts examined by The Times offer disturbing insights into how social media is reshaping childhood, especially for girls, with direct parental encouragement and involvement. Some parents are the driving force behind the sale of photos, exclusive chat sessions and even the girls’ worn leotards and cheer outfits to mostly unknown followers. The most devoted customers spend thousands of dollars nurturing the underage relationships.

The large audiences boosted by men can benefit the families, The Times found. The bigger followings look impressive to brands and bolster chances of getting discounts, products and other financial incentives, and the accounts themselves are rewarded by Instagram’s algorithm with greater visibility on the platform, which in turn attracts more followers.

One calculation performed by an audience demographics firm found 32 million connections to male followers among the 5,000 accounts examined by The Times.

Interacting with the men opens the door to abuse. Some flatter, bully and blackmail girls and their parents to get racier and racier images. The Times monitored separate exchanges on Telegram, the messaging app, where men openly fantasize about sexually abusing the children they follow on Instagram and extol the platform for making the images so readily available.

“It’s like a candy store 😍😍😍,” one of them wrote. “God bless instamoms 🙌,” wrote another.

The troubling interactions on Instagram come as social media companies increasingly dominate the cultural landscape and the internet is seen as a career path of its own.

Nearly one in three preteens lists influencing as a career goal, and 11 percent of those born in Generation Z, between 1997 and 2012, describe themselves as influencers. The so-called creator economy surpasses $250 billion worldwide, according to Goldman Sachs, with U.S. brands spending more than $5 billion a year on influencers.

Health and technology experts have recently cautioned that social media presents a “profound risk of harm” for girls. Constant comparisons to their peers and face-altering filters are driving negative feelings of self-worth and promoting objectification of their bodies, researchers found.

But the pursuit of online fame, particularly through Instagram, has supercharged the often toxic phenomenon, The Times found, encouraging parents to commodify their children’s images. Some of the child influencers earn six-figure incomes, according to interviews.

“I really don’t want my child exploited on the internet,” said Kaelyn, a mother in Melbourne, Australia, who like Elissa and many other parents interviewed by The Times agreed to be identified only by a middle name to protect the privacy of her child.

“But she’s been doing this so long now,” she said. “Her numbers are so big. What do we do? Just stop it and walk away?”

In investigating this growing and unregulated ecosystem, The Times analyzed 2.1 million Instagram posts, monitored months of online chats of professed pedophiles and reviewed thousands of pages of police reports and court documents.

Reporters also interviewed more than 100 people, including parents in the United States and three other countries, their children, child safety experts, tech company employees and followers of the accounts, some of whom were convicted sex offenders.

This is how The Times found its sample of 5,000 mom-run accounts.

The accounts range from dancers whose mothers diligently cull men from the ranks of followers, to girls in skimpy bikinis whose parents actively encourage male admirers and sell them special photo sets. While there are some mom-run accounts for boys, they are the exception.

Some girls on Instagram use their social media clout to get little more than clothing discounts; others receive gifts from Amazon wish lists, or money through Cash App; and still others earn thousands of dollars a month by selling subscriptions with exclusive content.

In interviews and online comments, parents said that their children enjoyed being on social media or that it was important for a future career. But some expressed misgivings. Kaelyn, whose daughter is now 17, said she worried that a childhood spent sporting bikinis online for adult men had scarred her.

“She’s written herself off and decided that the only way she’s going to have a future is to make a mint on OnlyFans,” she said, referring to a website that allows users to sell adult content to subscribers. “She has way more than that to offer.”

She warned mothers not to make their children social media influencers. “With the wisdom and knowledge I have now, if I could go back, I definitely wouldn’t do it,” she said. “I’ve been stupidly, naïvely, feeding a pack of monsters, and the regret is huge.”

Account owners who report explicit images or potential predators to Instagram are typically met with silence or indifference, and those who block many abusers have seen their own accounts’ ability to use certain features limited, according to the interviews and documents. In the course of eight months, The Times made over 50 reports of its own about questionable material and received only one response.

Meta, Instagram’s parent company, found that 500,000 child Instagram accounts had “inappropriate” interactions every day, according to an internal study in 2020 quoted in legal proceedings.

In a statement to The Times, Andy Stone, a Meta spokesman, said that parents were responsible for the accounts and their content and could delete them anytime.

“Anyone on Instagram can control who is able to tag, mention or message them, as well as who can comment on their account,” Mr. Stone added, noting a feature that allows parents to ban comments with certain words. “On top of that, we prevent accounts exhibiting potentially suspicious behavior from using our monetization tools, and we plan to limit such accounts from accessing subscription content.”

Influencers use TikTok, too, but Instagram is easier for parents to navigate and better suited to the kinds of photos that brands want. It is also home to a longstanding network of parents and brands that predated TikTok.

From time to time, Instagram removes child-influencer accounts for unspecified reasons or because people flag them as inappropriate, The Times found. In extreme cases, parents and photographers have been arrested or convicted of child exploitation, but barring evidence of illegal images, most of the activity does not draw the attention of law enforcement.

Like many parents, Elissa, who received the threatening messages about her daughter’s photos, said she protected her daughter by handling the account exclusively herself. Ultimately, she concluded, the Instagram community is dominated by “disgusting creeps,” but she nonetheless keeps the account up and running. Shutting it down, she said, would be “giving in to bullies.”

The account’s risks became apparent last spring when the person messaging her threatened to report her to the police and others unless she completed “a small task.” When she did not respond, the person emailed the girl’s school, saying Elissa sold “naughty” pictures to pedophiles.

Days later, the girl tearfully explained to her mother that school officials had questioned her about the Instagram account. They showed her images that her mother had posted — one of the girl in hot pants and fishnets, another in a leotard and sweatshirt.

Elissa had reported the blackmail to the local sheriff, but school officials only dropped the matter after an emotional interrogation of the girl.

“I was crying,” the girl said in an interview. “I was just scared. I didn’t understand what was going on.”

‘Walking Advertising’

In today’s creator economy, companies often turn to social media influencers to attract new customers. Giants like Kim Kardashian, who has 364 million followers on Instagram, have turned the phenomenon into a big business.

Young girls strive to do the same.

In the dance and gymnastics worlds, teens and preteens jockey to become brand ambassadors for products and apparel. They don bikinis in Instagram posts, walk runways in youth fashion shows and offer paid subscriptions to videos showing the everyday goings-on of children seeking internet fame.

“We costumed somebody for ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ thinking that would be huge P.R., but we ended up finding out the bigger return on investment is these microinfluencers,” she said. “We have parents that will spend thousands of dollars to buy styles that no one else will have. That’s our best market.”

The most successful girls can demand $3,000 from their sponsors for a single post on Instagram, but monetary gain can be elusive for others, who receive free or discounted clothes in exchange for their posts and have to pay for their own hairstyling and makeup, among other costs. Even youth fashion shows, including events in New York that coincide but are not affiliated with New York Fashion Week, charge the girls to participate and charge their parents to attend.

In interviews, parents defended spending the money to promote their daughters’ influencer ambitions, describing them as extracurricular activities that build confidence, develop friendships and create social media résumés that will follow them into adulthood.

“It’s like a little security blanket,” said a New Jersey mother whose mom-run account has led to paid modeling jobs for her daughter and invitations to work with sought-after choreographers. “She can help pay for college if she does it right,” she said.

A mother in Alabama said parents couldn’t ignore the reality of this new economy.

“Social media is the way of our future, and I feel like they’ll be behind if they don’t know what’s going on,” the mother said. “You can’t do anything without it now.”

One 12-year-old girl in Maryland, who spoke with The Times alongside her mother, described the thrill of seeing other girls she knows wear a brand she represents in Instagram posts.

“People are actually being influenced by me,” she said.

In 2022, Instagram launched paid subscriptions, which allows followers to pay a monthly fee for exclusive content and access. The rules don’t allow subscriptions for anyone under 18, but the mom-run accounts sidestep that restriction. The Times found dozens that charged from 99 cents to $19.99. At the highest price, parents offered “ask me anything” chat sessions and behind-the-scenes photos.

Child safety experts warn the subscriptions and other features could lead to unhealthy interactions, with men believing they have a special connection to the girls and the girls believing they must meet the men’s needs.

“I have reservations about a child feeling like they have to satisfy either adults in their orbit or strangers who are asking something from them,” said Sally Theran, a professor at Wellesley College and clinical psychologist who studies online relationships. “It’s really hard to give consent to that when your frontal lobe isn’t fully developed.”

Instagram isn’t alone in the subscription business. Some parents promote other platforms on their mom-run accounts. One of them, Brand Army, caters to adult influencers but also has “junior channel” parent-run subscriptions ranging from free to $250 monthly.

“Message me anytime. You will have more opportunities for buying and receiving super exclusive content😘,” read a description for a $25 subscription to a minor’s account. For $100 a month, subscribers can get “live interactive video chats,” unlimited direct messages and a mention on the girl’s Instagram story.

The Times subscribed to several accounts to glean what content is being offered and how much money is being made. On one account, 141 subscribers liked a photo only available to those who paid $100 monthly, indicating over $14,000 in subscription revenue.

Some of the descriptions also highlight the revealing nature of photos. One account for a child around 14 years old encouraged new sign-ups at the end of last year by branding the days between Christmas and New Year’s as “Bikini Week.” An account for a 17-year-old girl advertised that she wasn’t wearing underwear in a workout photo set and, as a result, the images were “uh … a lot spicier than usual.”

The girl’s “Elite VIP” subscription costs $250 a month.

Brand Army’s founder, Ramon Mendez, said that junior-channel users were a minority on his platform and that moderating their pages had grown so problematic that he discontinued new sign-ups.

“We’ve removed thousands of pieces of content,” he said. “The parents’ behavior is just disgusting. We don’t want to be part of it.”

‘The Wealth of the Wicked’

“You are so sexy,” read one comment on an image of a 5-year-old girl in a ruffled bikini. “Those two little things look great thru ur top,” said another on a video of a girl dancing in a white cropped shirt, who months later posted pictures of her 11th birthday party.

For many mom-run accounts, comments from men — admiring, suggestive or explicit — are a recurring scourge to be eradicated, or an inescapable fact of life to be ignored. For others, they are a source to be tapped.

“The first thing I do when I wake up and the last thing I do when I go to bed is block accounts,” said Lynn, the mother of a 6-year-old girl in Florida who has about 3,000 followers from the dance world.

Another mother, Gail from Texas, described being desensitized to the men’s messages. “I don’t have as much of an emotional response anymore,” she said. “It’s weird to be so numb to that, but the quantity is just astounding.”

Meta does not provide public information about who uses Instagram, so The Times analyzed data from the audience firms Modash and HypeAuditor, which estimate follower demographics based on their own algorithms.

The proportion of male followers varied greatly in The Times’s sample, according to the estimates. Many accounts had a few thousand followers who were mostly female. But while men accounted for about 35 percent of the audience overall, their presence grew dramatically as accounts became more popular. Many with more than 100,000 followers had a male audience of over 75 percent, and a few of them over 90 percent, the analysis showed.

To be sure, not all men following the accounts have bad intentions. Some are grandparents and fathers of the young influencers. Many have inoffensive profiles and simply post compliments or greetings, and mothers react appreciatively.

“In responding or even hitting ‘like’ on it, it boosts your algorithm,” said a mother in Florida whose 16-year-old daughter has been an Instagram influencer for six years. “We tried shutting comments off at one point, and some of the brands didn’t like that.”

Brands that feature children from mom-run accounts face similar challenges.

Dean Stockton, who runs a small clothing company in Florida called Original Hippie, often features girls from the Instagram accounts, who earn a commission when customers use personalized discount codes. After initially deleting many male followers, he now sees them as a way to grow the account and give it a wider audience because the platform rewards large followings.

“The Bible says, ‘The wealth of the wicked is laid up for the righteous,’” he said. “So sometimes you got to use the things of this world to get you to where you need to be, as long as it’s not harming anybody.”

Mr. Stockton said he deleted male followers who were disrespectful or sexual in their interactions. An examination by The Times of the three dozen brands that are popular among mom-run accounts found inappropriate, predatory or pornographic followers in almost all of the brands’ accounts, including Original Hippie.

Many of the men posted pornography, or their bios included sexual language and emojis that child protection experts say pedophiles can use to signal interest in children. For instance, one follower of a children’s dance wear brand described himself as a “thong & anl sx lover.” A user named “sexy_69nazi” followed a children’s apparel company and exclusively posted pornography.

Chixit, a brand selling swimwear and other clothing, describes itself as “an International Sorority,” but business records show that it was run by Philip Russo, who advertised himself as a tutor operating out of his home in the Hudson Valley of New York. Other websites registered to Mr. Russo’s email are a tutoring business and inactive domain names describing sex with animals.

After The Times reached out to Mr. Russo, the website for his tutoring business went offline. He did not respond to multiple messages seeking comment.

‘Girls Become a Currency’

The vast world of child-influencer followers on Instagram includes men who have been charged with or convicted of sex crimes, and those who engage in forums off platform where child sexual abuse imagery, including of girls on Instagram, is shared.

The Times traced the account of one follower, who goes by the moniker “jizzquizz,” to a man named Joshua V. Rubel, 39. He was convicted in 2008 of sexually assaulting a 15-year-old girl and is listed on the New Jersey sex offender registry. (Instagram’s policy bars sex offenders from using the platform, and the company said it removed two accounts after The Times pointed them out.)

Another account belongs to Daniel Duane Huver, a man in Lansing, Mich., who told law enforcement in 2018 that he had “top fan status” on girls’ pages, a designation bestowed by Instagram’s sister company, Facebook. The police searched Mr. Huver’s cellphone after it was confiscated by his probation officer and found hundreds of images and videos of children, including many considered inappropriate and sexually suggestive and two believed to be illegal (showing minors engaged in explicit acts.)

Mr. Huver told officers he was sexually attracted to children and masturbated to images of them, according to police records. He was charged with possession of child sexual abuse material, but the prosecutor in Eaton County later dropped charges, citing insufficient evidence because of the poor quality of the imagery.

Mr. Rubel did not respond to requests for comment. Mr. Huver said that the police mischaracterized his words and that the lack of prosecution was evidence he had done nothing wrong.

In monitoring multiple Telegram chat rooms, The Times found men who treat children’s Instagram pages and subscription services as menus to satisfy their fantasies. They trade information about parents considered receptive to producing and selling “private sets” of images.

A group with more than 4,000 members was highly organized, with an F.A.Q. page and a Google sheet that tracked nearly 700 children, identifying them by hashtags to help members find them within the long chat history. The group’s logo showed a child’s hand in an adult hand.

The Times asked the Canadian Center for Child Protection, an organization that monitors online child exploitation, to review links and other potentially illegal material posted by the Telegram groups and elsewhere. The center identified child sexual abuse imagery involving multiple underage Instagram models from around the world, as well as sexualized videos of others, including a preteen girl wearing a thong and a young teenager raising her dress to show her bikini bottom.

Men in these groups frequently praise the advent of Instagram as a golden age for child exploitation.

“I’m so glad for these new moms pimping their daughters out,” wrote one of them. “And there’s an infinite supply of it — literally just refresh your Instagram Explore page there’s fresh preteens.”

A small group of men go even further and cultivate business and patronage relationships with mothers.

One man posts videos and photos on Instagram of girls thanking him for shopping sprees, gifts like iPhones and iPads, and cash. If he does not receive a message of gratitude quickly, he sometimes shames the mother and daughter on his private Instagram account.

Another makes recommendations about increasing visibility by using specific hashtags and photographers. But two mothers said they became suspicious, and stopped working with the man, after he suggested they make certain their daughters’ nipples and other private areas could be detected through their outfits.

A third man tried to persuade a mother to sell her daughter’s used leotards because many men, including himself, were “collectors,” according to a recording of the conversation.

“In retrospect I feel like such a stupid mom, but I’m not stupid,” said a mother of a young gymnast, who dealt with similar men before she realized they were predators and received threatening messages from several of them. “I didn’t understand what grooming was.”

Sometimes the men flirt or try to develop virtual romances with mothers, offer to protect them and become possessive and angry if they interact with other men.

“It’s almost like the girls become a currency,” said the gymnast’s mother, who did not want to be named.

This feeling of ownership and jealousy can drive attempts at blackmail, The Times found.

Instamodelfan, who sent threatening messages to Elissa, sent blackmail threats to at least five other mom-run accounts. When one mother responded, he demanded that she sexually abuse her child and send him photos and videos, emails to the mother show. She refused and contacted law enforcement.

The Times communicated with a person identified on Telegram as Instamodelfan who said that he lashed out at the mothers because he believed other men got illegal images of children and he wanted them for himself.

Reporters also received information from an anonymous tipster, who they later found was linked to the blackmailer, indicating that some parents had produced explicit imagery of their daughters.

The Canadian center reviewed the imagery and said it included illegal nude photos of two girls. One girl’s mother said she was shaken to learn of the photos and did not know who could have made them. The other girl, now 17, said in an interview that the photos were for her and a girlfriend and that she told law enforcement that they had been stolen.

Others images either were borderline illegal, were too poor quality to be conclusive or were digitally altered, the center said.

Several mothers who had been identified by the tipster said they reached out to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, which, they said, had conducted an investigation. The F.B.I. declined to comment.

Ultimately, the gymnast’s mother said, a federal agent told them to stop talking to men online.

“They told everyone to get off Instagram,” she said. “‘You’re in over your head. Get off.’ That’s what they told us.”

‘My Limit of Pedophiles’

Meta failed to act on multiple reports made by parents and even restricted those who tried to police their own followers, according to interviews and materials provided by the parents.

If parents block too many followers’ accounts in a day, Meta curtails their ability to block or follow others, they said.

“I remember being told, like, I’ve reached my limit,” said a mother of two dancers in Arizona who declined to be named. “Like what? I reached my limit of pedophiles for today. OK, great.”

Mr. Stone, the Meta spokesman, said “there are lots of reasons an account might face limitations or restrictions based the account’s activity,” and therefore it was difficult to know why parents encountered these problems.

Ms. Pastore of LA Dance Designs said it was “very much overdue” for Instagram to add the ability to filter by age and sex to help identify suspicious followers. “If you’re starting to gain a following, there needs to be some sort of way to control it,” she said.

Even some egregious violations led to no action by Meta.

One parent reported a photo of erect male genitalia sent in a direct message. Another reported an account that reposted children’s photos with explicit captions. A third reported a user who propositioned her child for sex, offering $65,000 for “an hour” with the girl.

In response to those three reports, Meta said either that the communications did not violate “community guidelines” or that its staff did not have time to review them. In other cases, Meta told parents that it relied on its “technology” to determine the content was “probably” not a violation.

Separately, The Times found comments that included links to sites identified by the Canadian center as trading illegal, nude imagery of children. None of those reports received a response from Meta.

Former Meta trust and safety employees described an organization overwhelmed despite knowing about the problem for years.

“You hear, ‘I reported this account, it was harassing my daughter, why is he back?’” said a former investigator for the company who requested anonymity. “There are not enough people, resources and systems to tackle all of it.”

In recent years, conspiracy theories like QAnon, which claims Democratic politicians are trafficking children, have led to an excess of unfounded reports that have muddled the evaluation of child abuse tips, three former Meta trust and safety employees said.

A 2020 document that surfaced in a lawsuit described child safety as a “non-goal” at Meta. “If we do something here, cool,” the document said. “But if we do nothing at all, that’s fine too.” The lawsuit was brought against Meta and other companies claiming damage from using social media. Lawyers for the plaintiffs declined to provide more information about the document.

In documents from 2018 included in a separate lawsuit making similar claims of harm, a top Facebook executive told Instagram’s chief executive that unless changes were made, Facebook and Instagram were “basically massive ‘victim discovery services,’” an allusion to the considerable evidence of abuse on the platforms.

Mr. Stone, the Meta spokesman, disputed the suggestion that the trust team was understaffed and underfunded, saying that 40,000 employees worked on safety and security and that the company had invested $20 billion in such efforts since 2016. He also referred to a previous statement about the lawsuits, saying they “mischaracterize our work using selective quotes and cherry-picked documents.”

In addition, he noted that Meta reported more suspected child abuse imagery to the authorities than any other company each year. In December, it announced plans to encrypt its messaging services, which would reduce the reports.

‘It’s All Over Instagram’

Experts in child protection and development say young people should never be made to have negative feelings about their bodies. But clothing that is appropriate in a gym or dance competition may take on an unintended meaning when shared online.

Children’s dance attire regularly features strappy bra tops, sheer fabric and bikini bottoms, and popular cheer outfits combine sports bras with little skirts — part of a long-term trend toward more revealing clothing for girls.

“In the dance world we’re in, they’re half naked all the time and their legs are in the air,” said a mother in Massachusetts who declined to be named. “And if you’re not used to seeing that, maybe it’s different.”

Lynn, whose granddaughter in Texas is an ambassador for a cheerleading brand, said there was no logic to the reactions her posts received. Photos of the girl’s feet attract the most extreme comments, she said. “You can’t stop weird people, I guess.”

Still, many of the would-be influencers suffer. In some instances criticism of the posts, and accompanying bullying, becomes so severe that mothers turn to home-schooling.

“She got slaughtered all through primary school,” said Kaelyn, the mother in Melbourne. “Children were telling her, ‘We can’t play with you because my mom said too many perverts follow you on the internet.’”

In the United States, parents have substantial leeway in making decisions about their children. But people who suspect illegal behavior on Instagram quickly discover that the authorities are overwhelmed and typically focus on the clearest-cut cases.

Even the most unsettling images of sexualized child influencers tend to fall into a legal gray area. To meet the federal definition of so-called child pornography, the law generally requires a “lascivious exhibition” of the anal or genital area, though courts have found the requirement can be met without nudity or sheer clothing.

There have been criminal prosecutions against parents accused in child sexual abuse cases.

In Louisiana last year, a mother was arrested and charged with working with a photographer to produce illegal images of her daughter in a thong bikini. In Texas, a mother was sentenced to 32 years in prison in December for producing nude photos of her 8-year-old daughter with the same photographer. And in North Carolina, a mother is awaiting trial on charges that she took her 15-year-old daughter to a photographer who sexually abused her and she failed to get medical help when the girl tried to kill herself, according to court documents.

Still, those prosecutions are rare, and some male followers of the mom-run accounts openly welcome the windfall.

“As long as this stuff legally exists, I just enjoy it :),” one of them wrote on Telegram.

“Exactly,” another responded. “It’s all over Instagram.”

[shenachigans]

IN MY DREAMS | Cassandra Kiramman

PAIRING: Cassandra Kiramman x Fem!Reader

CW: angst BUT bittersweet ending, old people wlw (Cassandra is in her mid-50s and reader is in her early 50s), tragic-ish love, 1950s Hollywood inspired in terms of homosexuality-ish, mentions of homophobia, give them a break they’re both old people stuck with regrets and customs of the past :( I guess you can say they’re both closeted, but Cassandra’s sexuality isn’t labeled she just loves reader, sort of 2 perspectives: first one is reader, second is a mix of both but mostly Cassandra’s, both are too depressed and heartbroken to notice their love is reciprocated, back in the old day women are expected to marry a man, reader is also a matriarch of her own family like Cassandra, most likely ooc Cassandra

SUMMARY: Cassandra loves you back, and you love Cassandra back: A confession made after decades of mutual depressive pining.

A/N: It’s giving Evelyn and Celia from The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo in a way, I don’t know why. I’ve been hyper-fixating on one of the Arcane milfs, Cassandra Kiramman, and Arcane in general lately. Don’t get me wrong, Caitlyn Kiramman is a FINE woman. I love her and her girlfriend, Vi, too, but her mother is for me to ask for her hand in marriage. PLEASE ONE CHSNCE. Oh, and I hope you shed tears as I did writing this, and if you haven’t figured it out, yes, this is based on the song “In My Dreams” by Red Velvet. I suggest you listen to it on loop while reading. Immerse yourself, dear reader. I want tears shed suffer like I did h/j (not really). Anyway, enjoy!

WORDS: 2,169

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

“In my dreams, you love me back,” is a mantra you’ve said to yourself all your life when you met her as a little child yet exposed to the harsh reality of the world. Her name was Cassandra Kiramman, the young scion you knew was now the head of her clan and a respectable Councilor of Piltover. 

Those beautiful blue eyes still shined with ambition, pride, and even greed, but you never thought of her differently for those qualities, rather, you respected them as they helped her become the woman she is today. Her graying hair and the fine lines on her features prove the years she has been on the top, something you were never able to achieve, but that’s okay because she still kept you around, her childhood best friend. 

You don't know why, but you’re grateful. You were nothing compared to her, with only your family name keeping you afloat. Yet, that family is not comparable to the Kirammans, the family you wished to be part of because that would mean you belonged to her, something you’ve always wanted but will never have. 

It's tragic, really, for the woman you love only regards you as a dear friend, either blinded by her ambitions to notice or never pointing it out despite knowing. You hoped it was the latter, to let her know you loved her, to let her acknowledge your love and devotion even if she would never reciprocate them because you were only a friend. Nothing more can happen between you two, especially not when she has a family of her own with a husband and daughter.

Caitlyn was someone you considered your own, having been present in her life since she was born. You remember the first time you saw her in Cassandra’s arms. The little one grasped your gloved finger with resilience, smiling up to you with the same blue eyes her mother owned; the same eyes you fell in love with. She grew up to be a stark contrast to her mother in terms of personality despite being the physical copy of the woman you love. However, stubbornness is what they share and you find it endearing. 

What would life be like if you and Cassandra had children as lovers? But that wouldn't happen. Never in a million years, never in the multiple lives you lived and would live in. Despite the one-sided love you share, you will always love her, even if it hurts more than any physical pain could inflict on your body, because "In my dreams, you love me back." 

You would settle for friendly love, something strictly platonic, a rock Cassandra can lean on in a time of need, even if your mind told you multiple times it was time to stop, that it was time to let her go and move on to live a happy life where she wasn't your world. But it’s difficult when she was your world when she was the one who gave you light. You couldn’t let her go, and now it has been decades, facing a reality far different from your dreams.

“Do you still plan on getting married?” Cassandra asked out of the blue, a cup of tea in hand, clasped between nimble gloved fingers in the privacy of the Kiramman residence garden. She had prepared your favorite tea, personally brewing it to your liking just to see that satisfied expression on your face.

Cassandra studied your features to see how time had treated you with your graying hair and fine lines. You still looked as beautiful as the day she first met you when you two were children. A glimpse of your bright smile had rocked her world as a young scion, who focused on nothing but her duties for the future. The way your eyes now crinkled with wings when you smiled, she found it endearing.

She wanted to remove her gloves and reach out to feel your cheeks with her bare hands, to feel the warmth of your skin on hers and brush it so lovingly with her thumbs as she pressed her forehead against yours, but she withheld her inner turmoil with a masked expression. Touching you so intimately felt inappropriate considering you two were only good friends.

You raised a brow as you placed your teacup on the saucer, setting it on the table. A small amused chuckle left your lips. “What do you mean? I fear I’m too old to marry, Cassandra. If you’re worried about who will inherit my clan, I assure you, my niece is more than fit for the role. Even if I did marry and have a child, the little one would be far too young and inexperienced to carry such a burden on their shoulders,” you say with a smile, and you miss the way her lips frown slightly at your answer. 

Cassandra watches as you sip your tea, the way you elegantly hold the cup and present yourself before her with manners unmatched by royals is sickening. The person before her was not the same person she knew and fell in love with years ago. Who was this? Where was the person who always brought a smile to her face and made her heart swell? Why did it feel like you were slipping away, despite your proximity?

She had been contemplating these questions for the past three decades. You had built barriers around yourself, and even she couldn’t get through them to see the real you and what you were feeling. She didn’t want the woman she loved to hide behind a mask, but she never dared ask because she was scared. She was scared she couldn’t help you, she feared that her love would drive you away with disgust and contempt. 

A woman loving another was unacceptable when you and Cassandra were younger. You two have seen the consequences of people who tried to fight for it. It was seen as crude and you two were both heirs to your respective families. She couldn’t risk tarnishing your family name and your safety, and she couldn’t risk her position, that would mean she would never be allowed to see you again, so she kept you close as much as she could without raising suspicion, but she also kept you at an arm's distance albeit reluctantly. 

All Cassandra needed was to be by your side as much as she allowed herself. She yearned for more, but that would be selfish, that would mean disregarding your privacy and space, and she was seen as selfish since she was on the Council, but she would never put herself first when it came to you. 

“I don’t think you are too old, and yes, I am worried about who will succeed you, but… that wasn’t why I was asking,” Cassandra said carefully and averted her gaze onto her tea, the liquid reflecting her face. She saw the creased eyebrows on her features, and how her eyes seemed to have glazed with unshed tears. She can feel your curious gaze on her and she blinked profusely to calm her eyes. She didn’t want to worry you for suddenly crying. “Are you not lonely?” she asked as she looked at you expectantly and the way you smiled felt like a knife to her heart. It was rueful and she hated it.

“I don’t need to marry to avoid loneliness, Cassandra,” you say. “Marriage was not something I particularly wanted, though it was needed to keep appearances but I survived as a spinster. I was surprised Mother didn’t nag me too much for not finding a husband and bearing children. May she rest in peace. Father didn’t really have a say, but he told me that marriage…” You look into her blue eyes. “…wasn’t the only thing that binds you to the person you love.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened at the revelation. What you said was true, that truth was what allowed her to marry Tobias and have Caitlyn with him for the clan’s sake. But the way you gazed into her eyes, it felt like those words were meant for her. She couldn’t be seeing things, could she? Times have changed… Would it be okay for her to say it? To hope that you love her like she loves you? She steadies her breath and places her teacup and saucer on the table. It’s now or never. 

If she can’t say it at least once in both of your lifetimes, does she even deserve to love you? 

Cassandra could feel your gaze as you watched her with furrowed brows when she suddenly discarded her gloves and stood from her seat across from you to stand by your side. Her heart was hammering in her chest when you craned your head to look up at her as she towered over your sitting figure. She could tell you were confused, maybe even shaken, when she just stared at you, but she saw how you widened your eyes when she slowly and gently cupped your cheeks with her bare hands and stroked the apple of your cheeks with her thumbs. 

She saw part of the real, old you in your usually guarded eyes, it gave her a flicker of hope and her lips started to tremble when you didn’t push her away and instead placed your hands on hers. She had wanted to hold you like this the moment she realized she loved you. 

“Cassandra, what are you—” you say with worry but you cut yourself off when you see the tears that swelled in her eyes. This wasn’t like Cassandra, the normally poised and dignified woman you loved. It reminded you of the rare times she would become reckless like Caitlyn when you two were younger. 

She never told you, but those were the times she felt the most human, not because she didn’t have to put up fronts, but because she could be human with you without judgment and expectations and show herself to the person she loved, albeit having to limit herself from her insecurities.

“I never told you this, I couldn’t dare let you see this side of myself, but I can’t keep it hidden anymore. I have dreams I think about all the time. In my dreams, there was you and I…” 

Cassandra paused and averted her eyes from you by lowering her head, gazing at the necklace she gave you as children with a pendant that matched the color of her eyes to keep a part of herself with you at all times. She can’t believe you still held onto it after all these decades. Did you cherish it that much?

“...We were lovers. In that world, I could love you freely without the duties and expectations placed upon me and the judgment of the world. In that world, I could call you ‘my wife,’ ‘my dearest,’ and ‘my love.’ I could be by your side to love and dote on you. We would have as many children as you wanted and have little versions of ourselves running around the Kiramman or your family’s residence. In that world, we would grow old together, watch as our family grows, and leave a mark of our love even as we take our last breaths…

I love you, and… In my dreams, you love me back.”

Cassandra hadn’t realized she was crying until your hand cupped her cheek, your thumbs wiping the falling tears. Your touch was so tender and she leaned into it, to the warmth of your hand, and hesitantly met your gaze. 

Oh.

You were crying too. She didn’t want you to cry. It pained her to see you so hurt and in tears, but you were smiling, it was a smile she hadn’t seen in forever, the smile she fell in love with. She was taken aback when you stood from your seat and brushed her silver hair to the side before pressing your foreheads together, your noses brushing each other’s. She closes her eyes when you do and basks in your proximity and warmth, her arms encircling your waist. Her heart swells when you speak.

“I also have the same dreams, my love,” you say, resting your hand on her shoulder as you continue to stroke her cheek with the other. “In my dreams, you love me back. I never wanted to wake from them, and I prayed that you would stay forever so that we would be happily forever after.”

You never knew she also felt this way and that she would admit her feelings for you, it makes your heart flutter. You may never have each other exactly like you would want in both of your dreams, but the admission that she loved you back was all that mattered, and you can tell she felt the same which puts a smile on your face, the smile she always brought to your face when you were children. 

“I love you, too, Cassandra. I’m happy my dreams have come true.”

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[aperrywilliams]

They Will Never (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer's girlfriend is jealous. During the Christmas party at their daughter's school, the other moms don’t stop hitting on him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+; Minor DNI. Suggestive and dirty talk. Smut (fade to black) at the end of the fic. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I’m back!!!! This past months have been a rollercoaster in many ways. Well, talking about this fic, it could be a sequel from "That Wicked Love" multipart I wrote a while ago. Nonetheless, it could be read as a stand-alone.

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I never thought it would be easy. When I discovered that I was pregnant and Spencer wasn't going to support me, I was sure the world had ended.

There were weeks of thinking over and over again about what I would do with my life. Then I decided I would have Olivia, and that's it.

I don't regret my decision. Liv is my little girl, and I love her with all my heart, but motherhood is hard.

Since Olivia was born, my life has mostly revolved around her. Being a mother is a full-time job. But I have been managing the best I could. I continued working after she was born, and with time, some of my personal life returned too.

However, the stability of our little family was broken when a bloody bastard kidnapped my little girl two years ago. She was four back then.

That wasn't enough, though.

What were the chances of Spencer working on my daughter's kidnapping case?

I forgot to mention that I never told him I would continue my pregnancy, so it was a surprise for him to see me and know that he had indeed been a father.

Fortunately, Spencer’s team recovered Olivia and three more kids kidnapped by the same guy.

What followed was a rollercoaster of events and emotions. Spencer wanted to be in Liv’s life, and although I swore never to talk to him again, I couldn't deny my daughter of her father.

He showed regret and swore that leaving me alone while pregnant was the worst thing he had done in his life. He looked genuinely sorry, and he wanted to make it up to Olivia.

Against the odds, I let him.

He became the best dad for my girl. Since then, he has been for her at every step.

The problem? Having him close awoke those feelings I thought were buried the day he left.

I tried to ignore it. I really tried. Even if he never did something to make me uncomfortable in our co-parenting roles, I did feel off with it.

I still loved him. And months after, Spencer confessed that he still loved me too.

Would it be a bad idea? Maybe. But I left my heart to speak louder than my brain. That's why we have been dating for the past three months.

So you can guess how odd it is having your daughter’s dad as a boyfriend. Some people think we are married or living together when we are not. Others believe we are just co-parenting and don’t have a relationship.

Usually, I don't care what people think. But right now I wish things between us were clearer to the world, specifically for the moms who had Spencer cornered in the venue of this year’s school Christmas party.

Am I jealous? Yeah. But how could I not be? Spencer is the epitome of the young-hot dad, caring and lovely. And polite. Very very polite. So much so that even if he had noticed their advances, he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he likes that.

This has me overthinking, and I wouldn't say I like it because it brings all kinds of insecurity thoughts to my mind.

Right now, for example, instead of going to interrupt this obscene flirtation, I'm walking to the opposite side to check if Olivia needs anything. I can't bring myself to do something different.

It didn't help to hear part of their conversation when I was passing by a while ago.

“Your wife is a lucky girl, then,” Kimberly chimed, patting Spencer’s forearm.

“My what?” the man asked, confused.

“Your wife? Olivia's mom?” Kim explains, tilting her head. Then Spencer realizes she’s talking about me.

“Oh! No, actually, we are not married,” he corrected. God, Kimberly’s eyes go wide as if she found a gold mine. The rest of the moms there reacted in the same way.

I have nothing against that fact, but with them knowing it? It's like a door was opened. A door to the shameless coquetry, and I hate it.

I knew Spencer wouldn’t be consciously flirting with them, but seeing him laugh at their jokes and don’t even flinch when one of them gripped his forearm not only made me see red.

It was even worst: it made me self-conscious.

I know it's an irrational feeling. Of course I know there are people better than me in many things. I wouldn't pretend to be a superwoman or something close to that. But since Olivia started preschool, I have been feeling less than the other moms. At first, it was because I was raising her alone and working simultaneously. I couldn't make it to every school event or whatever they planned during the year. Now, also, there is the fact that it’s Spencer who can fulfill that role, and I still can’t. He is the cool dad with a cool job. And there are cool moms with cool jobs too, who he’s talking to at this precise moment.

Doing the math, it doesn't look like I could be up to that kind of expectation.

For the rest of the evening, I avoided being close to Spencer and the other moms. Instead, I focused on the kids and that Olivia could have fun at the party. After all, it was the primary purpose of this activity.

The ride home was mostly silent. I tried to concentrate on driving and not look at Spencer from the corner of my eye. Liv was fast asleep in the back seat.

The streets were filled with snow, and you could see the Christmas lights on the windows of each building we passed. The ambient was clearly festive, but I didn't feel or look that way.

Maybe Spencer felt something was off, but I guess he didn't want to bring it up in the car. He only made some random comments about the party, and for all of them, he got from me a curt hum in response.

When I parked, he took hold of a sleepy Olivia in his arms and helped me upstairs.

It was a well-known routine since we told Liv that Spencer was her dad, and she warmed up to him. Every time we got to my apartment after an afternoon together, he carried our daughter to her room and got her ready for bed. The little girl would open her eyes and demand a bed story from her dad.

Spencer loves reading to her, even if he knows most of the stories by heart. That's one of the many things they share as father and daughter, and I try to give them the space to do that. That's why this time, like others, I headed to the kitchen to make myself some tea.

With a mug in hand, and after switching on the Christmas tree lights, I plopped on the couch. I didn't notice before how much my feet hurt. What can I say? The afternoon’s overthinking even dimmed my body aching.

Great, now I can add ‘old and wasted’ to my self-deprecation list.

I let my eyes be entertained by the colored lights, wondering if I was being overdramatic. My thoughts were interrupted by Spencer sitting beside me.

“I couldn't finish the story, and she had already fallen asleep,” he announced, lifting my legs so they could rest on his lap. Thoughtlessly, he started rubbing my feet.

Silence took over the room. I tried to concentrate on the pleasant feeling of his hands on my aching feet, but my face sure didn't hide my sour mood.

“What's wrong?” Spencer asked cautiously, inspecting my features. I tried to play ignorant.

“Uh? What do you mean?” I lied. Spencer frowned.

“You are too quiet. You didn't say anything during the car ride, and I could tell you avoided me most of this afternoon,” he recounted.

Shit. Obviously, he noticed.

“I’m just tired,” I lied again. I didn't want to explain what was bothering me. It was silly, and I felt stupid for it. He was about to say something to question my answer, but I didn't let him.

“Maybe you should go home. I think it's better I go to bed,” I pointed, detaching my feet off his lap and sitting straight on the couch. By all means, I avoided making eye contact because I knew he would realize what I was trying to do.

During the past months, he had spent the night at mine before, but it wasn’t a habitual thing. We decided to take it slow, and neither he nor I had put pressure on that matter.

Spencer’s frown deepened, nonetheless.

“Okay. I’ll go,” he announced. “But first you need to tell me what is bothering you. I don’t bite the ‘tired’ thing,” he declared, shifting his posture on the couch to have a better look of me.

“Nothing is wrong,” I repeated, but my voice sounded even less convincing than before. The man hummed, thinking about what to say first.

“Did you know that in the US the 95% of people who are asked for a confirmation to a statement actually lie about it?” He commented. I huffed, already feeling trapped.

“Great. Now is where your 187 is displayed,” I said under my breath. It was a thought that wasn’t meant to be said at loud. But it slipped.

Spencer tilted his head.

“Hey! Now I’m worried. What happened? What did I do?” he asked in a high pitch tone, scooting to my side. I shook my head, sighing.

Maybe it was better to get clean and tell him everything.

“You - you didn't do anything. I mean, yeah. You were there, all cute and sexy. It's your fault! And they? They were all over you, gawking at you as someone looks at their prey!” I grumbled.

“They?” Spencer asked in confusion.

“The other moms, Spencer! Now you will tell me you didn't notice?” I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest and placing some distance between us on the couch.

“You mean at the party? No way. That not happened,” he refuted, shooking his head.

The bastard was denying the most obvious thing! That made anger fill my body, and I had to stand and start pacing. It was that or scream at the man.

At the loss of words, Spencer stood too, following my pace with his gaze.

I knew he could see the fuming escaping from my ears, but I didn't care.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to start. I bet my pacing in the room wasn’t helping him.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled softly to catch my attention. I turned to see him. His confused look only fueled my irritation.

“Fuck, Spencer! How can you be so clueless? They were hitting on you! God, if it were up to them, you'd already be tied to their bed frame,” I shouted, hands waving in the air to accentuate my point.

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“What? That's not true. They were being nice. That's all,” Spencer defended. Sure, he has to be oblivious right now. I would have punched him to make him realize the truth.

“Nice, uh? I didn't know nice meant touching the guy in front of the whole people every chance they got. Or are you going to deny they did that, uh, genius?” I sneered now with my hands on my hips. My blood was boiling inside as I remembered the scene.

Spencer cleared his throat. He was recalling those details, and they were hitting him now. Cautiously he took a step forward, hands trying to reach mine.

“Hey, don’t get upset. I - I didn't see that. I’m sorry,” he said, stepping in front of me and prying my arms from their position on my hips. His fingers traced delicate patterns on the back of my palms.

“I should have seen it. I didn't think it was something like that. You know I’m pretty stupid in that kind of thing. I’m really sorry,” he apologized.

I really wanted to stay angry, but seeing those puppy dog ​​eyes, looking intently at me made it difficult.

Argh! Why just one look from him it's all that it takes to feel my knees go weak?

“Don't look at me like that!” I protested.

“Like what?” He asked, kind of amused by the reaction he provoked in me.

“Like you were an innocent pigeon. All men are the same, honestly,” I complained, leaving the grasp of his hands. A new rush of anger came quickly. Spencer pursed his lips; he could tell the reason why I was upset wasn’t just the moms flirting with him.

Before I could turn and walk away, Spencer stopped me grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently so I could look at him.

“Please, don’t go. I’m sorry I didn't notice. But you know why I didn't? Because they are not you,” he declared, intertwining our fingers and grasping our hands with his free one. I looked at him, with some treacherous tears fighting to come out.

He continued.

“They are not you. You are the only one that can get my attention that way,” he declared, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

“I’m not that special, you know?” I mumbled, pursing my lips to stop the tears.

There it was. The intrusive thought in my mind replayed over and over since it hit me this afternoon.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, realizing there was more than jealousy because of him.

“Don’t say that. Of course you are that special, and much more!” He rebutted, and I chuckled bitterly.

“Am I? I mean, why would you be happy with me when you can get a successful well-manicured super mom like them?” I pointed.

“What are you talking about? What is that thing about super moms?” he asked, now taking hold of both my hands.

I sighed. It was something that was hard to explain, even to me. I left the grasp of his hands, running mine through my hair, collecting my thoughts.

“Look. I don't expect you can fully understand it. Honestly, I think I can’t understand it either. It's just - I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m not doing enough. I’m not a successful businesswoman with a six-year-old daughter, a nice car, all dolled up, perfect makeup, and baking cupcakes for the whole school, like Kimberly, you know?” I shrugged, feeling small and vulnerable.

Of all that people, I chose to compare myself with Kimberly Garland. The incarnation of a super mom. She was known as a successful CEO at a technological company. Mom of three and recently divorced. She always shows up to school activities, no matter what. And not only that, she actively participates, whether cooking, taking care of the ornaments and decorations, or whatever it needed.

How could you compete to that?

“And do you think that no being like her is a bad thing?” Spencer asked me.

Did I believe that? Perhaps I did.

“Maybe it is. Don’t you think Liv deserves a mom like that? Or you a girlfriend like that? I saw you talking to her today, and I couldn't stop thinking she could offer more than I could.”

It hurt to say those words out loud, but they were the ones plaguing my thoughts at the time.

Spencer's face softened. Great, now I'm sure he felt pity for me.

“She can’t. Kimberly or whoever you’re comparing to. You're an excellent mom, (Y/N). And the best girlfriend I can ask for," Spencer stated now strocking my cheek.

I felt silly making a fuss but the insecurities were there. I couldn't help it. The embarrasment made me downcast my gaze to the floor.

“My sweet girl. Look at me, please," he asked, tilting my chin up. I did so, my cheeks turning red under his gaze.

“Olivia is a lucky little girl, you know? She has the best mom in the world. A mom who loves her and would do whatever it takes so she can be happy and safe. Who cares if you can’t be in all those school activities? Not her, because she knows you love her. It doesn't matter if you are not a company CEO. You have your job, and thanks to that our daughter has had everything she needs. You took care of her alone in her first years. On top of that, you have always sought her well-being and happiness. You let me be in her life even after I hurt you years ago. I will always be grateful that you did,” he said, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear.

“She deserves having her father around,” I pointed. It was a decision that I made when we spoke again after Olivia’s kidnapping. Although my hurt feelings, I couldn't deny my daughter of her father if he genuinely wanted to be in her life. Our problems as adults didn't have to be a problem for her.

“And she deserves the wonderful mom she has,” Spencer declared, kissing my forehead. I blushed at the compliment.

“Now, regarding this relationship,” he began pointing between the two of us. “You have nothing to worry about. They don't stand a chance, and you know why? Because they don't even compare to the most beautiful, smart and brave person I've ever met. Who owns a small bookstore downtown, and my heart. The woman I fell in love with the moment I saw her—the mother of my child. Who gave this idiot a chance to be in her life again even when he didn't deserve it. They are not you, my sweet girl. They will never be, and that's why I could never even look at them the way I look at you.“

Fuck Spencer Reid and his ability with words.

“You mean it?” I asked tentatively. Still unsure if he was being serious.

“Of course I mean it. I’m here for the long run, and I hope someday - sooner or later - we can take the next step. I want everything with you, (Y/N), but I’ll go at your pace. I promise.”

I couldn't help the giggles that left my lips.

Could love make you this way? I felt lighter and confident. Spencer's words made me see that I have no reason to sulk that way.

“Keep talking like that, and you'll get the world, Dr. Reid," I stated, now wrapping my arms around his neck. He chuckled.

“I don't need to get it. I already have it with you,” he said, giving a peck to my nose.

"You're a sap," I teased.

"And you love it,” he added, leaning down to kiss me. I happily obliged and kissed him back, tightening my grasp on his neck. His hands planted on my hips to keep me steady.

The kiss deepened, and only we parted when the need for air was too much.

He looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face.

“You know?” he started, kissing my cheek and then my jaw. “There is only one bedframe I would rather be tied to right now. And there is only one person I wish would do indescribable things to me as I’m tied up at her mercy,” he whispered in my ear, and immediately, I felt shivers down my spine.

“Spencer, don’t. That's not helping,” I mumbled with my eyes fluttering shut.

“Isn’t it? Why? Are you thinking about it right now?” He teased. The bastard knew what he was doing. “You would like to see me all tied up, waiting for my sweet girl to do what she wants? Would you like to be in control and show those moms who own me?” he asked, as his lips left traces of kisses on my neck. His hot breath was hitting on my skin and making my desire grow.

“Spencer,” I moaned, lost in his words and eager for his touch.

"Tell me what you want. I'll give you anything," he whispered in my ear, hands running down my sides, giving me goosebumps.

“You. I want you.” Those words left my lips like a prayer—the utter confession of desire and pent-up tension. Spencer grunted.

“You already have me. I’m yours,” he murmured, pulling up the hem of my shirt, so his hands could sneak under to feel my skin.

“And I’m yours. Totally yours. But I need to feel you,” I confessed. I was so lost in his touch and starved for more.

Spencer understood the meaning of my words, so he kissed me hungrily, walking us backward in the direction of my room.

That night Spencer proved to me, with kisses, caresses, and words of adoration, that my insecurities were unfounded. It's true that I'm not like Kimberly Garland, but I don't have to be. I have a daughter whom I adore and who

loves me, a job that fills me with satisfaction, and a boyfriend that I love and who does an excellent job of showing me how valuable and loved I can be.

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Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19  @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @pebble-has-a-mirgraine @anamiad00msday @chlochlosworld @milivanili99

[altades]

Vashwood rant

I can't sleep so why not analyze vashwood in the middle of the night

Now, this analysis is mostly of the manga, with maybe small takes from 98 and tristamp

To start let's look at the boys from their respective beginnings

Vash is so cruelly mischaracterized as a child, and it might be a little bit of trismaps fault, even though i do love it, or maybe people are just putting characters into boxes without really thinking about it but Vash is so not soft-shy-nice little baby brother. The whole thing with him being younger is so insane to me, i get why if Nai was born like 10 minutes earlier he would make it his whole personality (very sibling thing to do) but it's just so stupid. No, they have 0 age difference and it doesn't affect their dynamic cuz the are literally twins for the love of god. And, really, when you look at the manga as kids Nai was the emotional one! And he still is!

Nai is plagued by fear and anger and resentment and those emotions are what drive his every decision. Vash, on the other hand, is much more in control of his feelings and doesn't show them as much. That is to say that pre-tesla nai is the one worried about their relationship with humans, about their future, he's the one crying after talking to Conrad (what a sweet child he was) while Vash seemes much less scared.

And when they find out about Tesla Nai is the one who faints - he’s the more reactive one, the emotional one. And that small difference is what sets their paths so differently. Because Vash actually gets a chance to talk to Rem and figure things out.And that talk is so very important because it makes Rem, who already was everything to Vash, even more important. 

Now, I want us all to think about how terrified Vash was after seeing Tesla cuz he probably thought his own mother was going to dissect him and his brother. But then she saves him when he tries to end his own life, proving that no she’s not gonna kill him, because she, as every human, has the capability to learn from her mistakes and make better choices. (too bad Nai didn’t get that lesson lol)

And then we get to the big bad things. (it’s genocide) But the important part from that whole ordeal is Rem’s sacrifice. Because, listen, I love stories where humanity is shown to be capable of change and forgiveness is a virtue and love and pussy and all that but oh man can it be so so unrealistic and a little bit insane to watch (su im looking at u (i love su but oh boy that is not how the world works unfortunately)) but Trimax manages to make it work so well. I believe that’s cuz Vash is a very kind and loving man but is also completely out of his mind and has horrendous mommy issues. At least half the reason he doesn’t kill people is because Rem has died to save them, and killing them would make it all be for nothing. If he kills these people or if he lets them die would that mean that Rem died for nothing? Did she sacrifice her life to save these people only for her own son to end their lives? AND you know I’m right cuz he literally says it in the manga but also BECAUSE HE DOES THE SAME FOR WOLFWOOD (also he did kill Nai when he had the chance but we don’t have time to unpack that)

All of that is A LOT and very complicated (i love Vash he’s so well written he’s my perfect little meow meow) now let's talk about Wolfwoooooooooood /twirls hair/

WW is much easier to understand and analyze cuz he is, just a guy,, WW is just a normal person who gets insanely unlucky and gets in THE WORST possible situations (If he ever played DND he would roll straight 1s). That is to say that his story is sort of a way to show how much life in the badlands sucks, but also that there are good things even in the worst places (the orphanage) And WW reacts to situations in the most rational way possible way - he kills to survive. he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t get a say in it. If he could chose he would just live with his family and friend and do whatever. And that, him being so normal in such a violent and bloody world is what makes him suffer all the time. His inner moral compass is screaming at him what a terrible person he is and he promptly ignores it.

That is until that moral compass manifests itself in the form of a tall, blond and handsome stranger that he’s supposed to lead to his death. The stranger who turns out to be the most compassionate and kind man WW’s has ever seen. Who he’s supposed to kill. It’s like finding an oasis in the desert and being forced to burn it to the ground. And WW doesn’t want to do that, and he refuses to believe that the oasis is not a mirage so he tries to get Vash to kill someone, even if it’s WW himself. (It doesn’t work.)

As we all know WW changes his mind because of Vash’s influence. And he dies for it. Because even though Vash’s beliefs are born of human virtues, no man is made to walk his path, for he is not human and any mortal who tries to follow an angel to the skies is doomed to crash. WHAT YOU DON’T EXPECT IS THAT THAT MAN WILL BRING THE ANGEL DOWN WITH HIM

There is this line I wrote for an art i’m planning to make and if you’ve read this far you deserve a lil spoiler - “have you found absolution in bringing an angel to his knees?” and it captures perfectly what i'm thinking. And also Vash spends so much time trying to be closer to people but I think him killing Legato might’ve been the most human thing he’s ever done. Cuz it’s is so beautiful in the way he does it for the memory of the person he loved and yet so ugly in it’s cruelty.

I’ve said this before but most of the time when there is a human/ some immortal powerful creature relationship I don’t think the human is that special but WW HE SO IS. Maybe it’s the way that he’s just as deep in the nuclear bombs with personality business as Vash is, being one of said nuclear bombs, but still remains a normal person with relatively good morals that he can anchor Vash to a sort of normality that he doesn’t get often. Like what other guy would get hunted by all sorts of freaks with you, get in trouble all the time, get shot and etc and etc and then go for a drink with you like it’s a normal wednesday? Wolfwood. Or maybe it's that WW learns of every worst part of Vash, he sees him be on the brink of losing himself, he knows Vash has actually caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and ALMOST did it again after Julai, and still stays with him? He sees Vash become something that is not human at all and still stay? Idk MAYBE IT’S ALL OF THAT but WW is just so important and so down bad but we all know that already so i’m not gonna add to that

Anyways, I got this all out of my system gn

[gardenofnoah]

middle aged touya my beloved 🫶🏼 (cw: drinking)

in his 40s, Touya is relatively tame. he spends most of his time working on his bike in the dingy little garage across the street from his place. he doesn’t need to work anymore (finally benefitting from nepotism, he thinks with a snort), but he finds himself helping out the elderly couple that live next to him from time to time, usually with an uneven shelf or a leaky faucet. they don’t ask him about his scars and the wife sends him back home with some sort of bread or sweet dessert every time, with the intention of fattening him up, since he won’t do it himself—which he finds ironic because he eats more and with a consistency that he hasn’t ever until now. 

he establishes a routine without meaning to, and at the end of every day he finds himself looking forward to going home—also for the first time in his life—because when he opens the door he’s nearly taken off his feet by the 93(.7, says the vet) pound monstrosity that he cohabitates with. 

he found himself walking through the kennels of the local animal shelter a few years ago, after several of his mother’s gentle nudges to find himself a companion. after making it explicitly clear that she was barking up the wrong tree for grandkids, she just rolled her eyes, shaking her head. 

“I think it would be nice for you to have something to take care of,” she told him, expression only a little worried—but mostly just fond. 

so that’s how he ended up in front of the last kennel in the pound, lowered to a crouch and speaking softly to the huddled, shivering mass at the far corner of it. even as crouched in on himself as he was, touya could see the pale scars that littered his otherwise dark brown coat. he felt the phantom ache on his own skin.

“he’s been here a while,” a worker muttered from behind him, “not sure how much longer they’ll want to keep him here.”

touya turned his head to regard the voice, raising an eyebrow. “what d’you mean?”

“he’s on the euthanasia list. we’ve tried to keep him off of it for as long as we can—but he’s aggressive and there haven’t been any interested adopters. time’s running out for him, unfortunately.”

the reality of it turned in his stomach something familiar and wholly unwelcome. he was overcome with a feeling of sympathetic kinship—it was just like the world he knew to chew up and spit out everything it could. 

he decided he’d try to stop that cycle where he could. 

“I’ll take him.”

“get off of me, you fuckin’ heifer” Touya laughs, pushing the dog back in a way that has it bounding back toward him, eager to play despite his age. neither one are particularly gentle, but there’s an underlying respect that comes with time and patience to keep the rough housing playful. touya hasn’t named the thing (because despite all of the ways he has changed, he’s still a bit of an ass), but any time Fuyumi brings his nieces over to visit, they stuff him into frilly princess costumes and call him whatever variation of “Princess Spotticus Snuffalopagus” they come up with that day—he figures that’s enough. 

he’s home to change and then he’s out the door again—because another first for him has happened unexpectedly: he’s found himself a few friends, and they have a standing Friday night meet up down at the bar across from the bike garage. none of them are much for talking, which suits Touya just fine. he strides up to the bar and takes his regular stool, nodding the familiar faces to the left of him and ordering his usual dark beer. it’s something he looks forward to now—the quiet comradery, the absence of the need to look over his shoulder. 

and right now, he is pointedly not doing that, because he thinks that if he just ignores the tap on his shoulder, it might just stop. 

it doesn’t.

“look, you little fuckin’ runt—” he snarls, turning to the source of the irritation—

“will you hold my drink?”

the interruption stops him dead in his tracks, long enough to blink back the shock at having been truly and willfully ignored to get a good look at you. 

at least 10 years his junior, clad in a pair of high-waisted jeans and a black tank top that leave just enough to the imagination to peak his interest. he realizes he’s staring, and his eyes snap to yours to find a knowing little smirk on your face.

“and why the fuck would i do that?”

“only for a minute,” you roll your eyes, like you’re the one that’s inconvenienced by this, “i just have to go to the bathroom.”  

he sighs, clipped and full of irritation, but holds a hand out to you regardless. you give him a smile that he immediately has to turn away from, huffing out a little “hurry up” as you turn toward the bathrooms. there’s no one around but him and his friends, but he finds himself curling your drink into his chest anyway, hunching over it like something nefarious might drop into it from above. 

it’s only a moment before you return, and much to his chagrin, you hop up onto the stool next to him and do well to make yourself at home, turning to hit him with another lopsided grin. he shoves your drink back in your hand a little too roughly—you pay it no mind, thanking him for watching it. 

“you just give your drink to any old stranger you find?”

you laugh a little, tipping your drink back to take a sip. he watches the tip of your tongue swipe a stray drop from your lip and he knows he should look away. 

he doesn’t.

“not usually.”

“that’s quite the fuckin’ gamble,” he gruffs, taking a sip of his own. 

“maybe,” you say, like you know something he doesn’t. he doesn’t like it. 

“don’t you have friends to get back to?”

“mm, yeah—i suppose i do,” you set your drink down and reach your arms up in a stretch—he has to look away then, because your chest strains against your tank top and he’s suddenly worried for his old heart—“what’s your name?”

he studies you then—eyes you with overt suspicion and you let him, smiling sweetly at him in a way that makes him nervous. he tuts at you, looking away to hide the flush that he feels creep up the side of his neck. 

“touya,” he grits out.

you repeat it, trying it out on your tongue, and he nearly comes out of his skin. you hop down from the stool, far too close to him—he doesn’t know why he wants to lean into your proximity.

“see you next time then, touya.”

he feels you well after you’ve gone. when the air stops vibrating, he lets out a sharp exhale, dropping his forehead to his hands on the bar top in front of him. the man next to him barks out a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder in some show of knowing sympathy. 

he’s too old for this shit. 

[breannasfluff]

Lost Without You

Whump Rating: 2/5 TW: Depression

The shadow is defeated. A portal appears and the Chain knows, this is the final one. Tears are shed, promises and light-hearted threats are made, and everyone gives a last hug goodbye. Then, one by one, they step through the portal and vanish.

They were already in Wild’s world. He’d already gone through his last portal without realizing it. The blackness swirls, sucks in, and vanishes. The champion stands in the grass field, alone. The breeze blows through the grass, turning it into waves over the low hills. Far away, a wild horse whinnies. Then silence falls again.

Wild stares at the spot where his family vanished for a long time before finally turning in the direction of home.

Things aren’t the same after the journey ends. Link—no need for a nickname, now—goes through the motions. He helps Zelda, speaks with Purah, and tries to fall into the rhythm of life. The little house in Hateno, despite how he loved it previously, is too empty, now. Each corner is filled with memories of eight other boys and men laughing, joking, and filling his life with joy.

He can’t sleep in his bed without remembering times Wolfie curled up at his feet, or Hyrule crawled in and clung to his arm after a bad dream. The horse shed reminds him of Time, chewing on a piece of straw and telling ridiculous stories they couldn’t discount. With the old man, anything could be true.

Finally, Link gives the house to Zelda for her research and sets out to circle Hyrule. He’ll check in with the other races and towns. Maybe there he’ll find the meaning he lost. Yet each place holds the happiness of people moving on, while he is stuck in the same place.

Friends marry, break up, learn new skills, and build homes. Families change; growing and shrinking, yet never dying. Their lives are ever-churning onward. With each town, Link finds himself looking forward to the next less and less. He no longer has a family to visit. Well, it’s not a bad idea to travel the wilds. He’s often more comfortable there than anywhere else.

At first, it’s a good idea. The wilds are quiet and he falls into the rhythm of nature. There are no travelers out here and he can go days without needing to speak. After a while, he starts chatting to the air, telling his missing companions about his travels.

“There’s a fox mother in a den over there. I snuck up and looked at the kits. I think she noticed me, but I made sure not to get too close. Oh, some grasshoppers; I should catch them for making elixirs in the future. You know, I really cleaned out my stores making potions for everyone.”

The only answer is the wind. Link is quiet for the rest of the day.

The weeks blend together and he fully gives up on seeking out towns. Even traveling is losing its appeal. What’s the rush? There’s no goal; no people who need him to check in. He told Zelda when he left he’d be off the grid for a while.

What’s the use of a hero after the journey is over? He’d barely had time to settle after the first one before he was dumped into the Chain. Now, an eternity without his family looms. Each day, Link rests a little more. For each meal, he has a little less. He’s just…not hungry.

Slowly, he numbs to his surroundings. He takes an infrequent wash when he comes across a lake, but there’s no one to worry about. Link wakes tired and lays on his bedroll for hours, debating getting up and moving further. He collects less until he’s only depleting his supplies, not adding to it. Well, that’s easy enough to fix; he’s not hungry anyway.

Link doesn’t know how long he’s been out here. He could warp home; warm to a shrine or a town. Maybe he should be around people. But the idea of talking to people? Socializing? Keeping up the persona of a hero? It’s exhausting.

Mostly, Link sleeps. Maybe, one day, he’ll climb back into the shrine and they can suck the life back out of him. This body is on loan, anyway. Maybe next time, they’ll find a better hero to fill it with. Someone whose family is still around to support him.

Someone is screaming.

This is odd for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that Link is in the middle of nowhere. Someone could have encountered a rare enemy, but the scream is…excited? And raising in pitch and volume.

“Where is he?”

“The gem should take us right to him!”

“Do you think he’s underground?”

“What—where do you come up with these things?”

“Like a cave—wait, look over there.”

Huh. That sounds a lot like Wind and Warriors. Silly, because they are gone. Everyone is gone. Maybe this is it. His mind snapped and now he’s hearing voices.

Footsteps get louder and Warriors looks down at him in the grass, hands on his hips. “What in hyrule are you doing down there?”

Wind’s face pops into view, showing off straight white teeth when he grins. “Hey Wild! We missed—hey.” The smile fades, excitement seeping out. “Did something happen to you? You look, uh…”

“You look like shit,” Warriors finishes. He leans down, reaching out a hand. “You good? What happened?”

Link doesn’t take the hand, just stares at them. “That’s it,” he whispers. “I’ve gone crazy. Hallucinations.”

Wind socks him in the shoulder, much too hard to be a hallucination. “Get up! Warriors got a crystal! We need to get the others!”

“What…?” Link finally sits up, then stands. Woah, his legs are kind of shaky. Warriors grabs him, then hisses as his hand closes on a shoulder.

“How skinny are you? Wild, seriously, what happened?”

He transfers his gaze to the captain, slowly tracing over familiar features. “You left.”

“Yeah? Didn’t you have people to come home to?”

Link shrugs. “Not my family.”

“Wild? Are you okay?” Wind tugs on his tunic sleeve. “Did you miss us?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes for a long moment. “A lot. How—how are you here?”

The captain snorts and waves a gem on a chain. Took a while, but I got Cia to make a gem that will let heroes open portals. We’re picking everyone up to see how things are going.” He looks Link up and down. “You, my friend, are in dire need of some help.”

Link stares at his feet. “I don’t…know what to do anymore.”

Wind leans against his side, wrapping him in a half hug. “You rely on your brothers. We’ll get you back on your feet, okay? Twi is never going to let you out of his sight again.”

For the first time in a while, Wild smiles. “Let’s go see our family.”