#to be clear: i do NOT care for her. at all. she's the worst person on this earth

[thestoryofusstan]

RISK PART II

pairing: mafia!harry styles x singer!reader

summary: Harry is in town for some.. less than legal business, and you're a local singer trying to get your foot in the door, and also planning your wedding. And maybe Harry is a little too interested in you.

warnings: cursing, mentions of death, i think that’s it??

-

At the end of the show, the band disappeared from the stage, and Niall and Harry busied themselves at the bar.

Jodie was the first one to come out.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted Niall with a grin, going up to press their lips together. “Hey, H. Enjoy the show?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “You guys were.. good. Didn’t know you could sing.”

“Oh, trust me, neither did I. It was Y/N’s idea to get me to do it. She’s been singing since she could talk. She’s pretty fucking good, too.”

“Yeah, first time we met Jodie wanted her to do karaoke and she kept saying she ‘wasn’t good’. Then fuckin’ busted out some Taylor Swift song like it was nothing. Speaking of, where is she?”

“Oh, she’s still in the back. She said she’d be out in a minute, she just needed a sec.”

Niall’s brows furrowed, “She good?”

“I think so. She didn’t seem off. But I think she knows Connor didn’t show and y’know how she gets.”

Niall’s eyes rolled at the mention of his friend’s fiancé.

“You don’t seem to like him much,” Harry commented.

“I don’t.”

“Why’s he so bad?”

“He’s jus’ an asshole to her sometimes. And usually, Y/N’s the first person to bite your head off about being a bitch to her. But whenever Connor does it, she just…”

Jodie finished for him, “She lets him. Plus, he’s super controlling. He wants her to quit the band once they get married so she can, like, be a housewife. And that’s literally her worst nightmare, he just doesn’t give a shit.”

“Yeah,” Niall nodded. “And the reason we moved in with them is ‘cause a few years ago—“

“Ni. Shut up. Y/N would be pissed if she found out we told someone. It’s bad enough as is.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Harry eyed them suspiciously, “What’d he do to her?”

“.. If Y/N wants to tell you, she will. But don’t bring it up or push it,” Jodie explained. “She’s normally pretty… unbothered, I guess. But she just.. is sensitive sometimes. And do not, under any circumstances, point out Connor not showing up tonight whenever she gets here.”

“Yeah, so switch the conversation. She’s comin’ over,” Niall rushed out.

“Uh… so, what’d you think about the show!” Jodie exclaimed, overly loud as you appeared behind her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Hello my favorite slut,” you greet Jodie.

“Aw, hello, my whore.”

You grin at her.

“What about me?” Niall pouted.

“You’re our favorite whore. But only for Jodie,” you shrug. Niall smiles as if he actually cares.

“Uh.. Y/N, this is Harry. Harry, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah. We, uh.. met this morning. He scared the shit out of me.”

Harry gave a half smile and raised his brows.

Niall laughed, “‘Course he did. He’s nice, I promise. He doesn’t bite.”

“.. I’d hope not?”

“It was a joke, asshole.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny. Asshole,” you mock him.

You can see Harry laughing out of the corner of your eye and it makes you smile, just a bit.

Harry takes a bite of the food they’d apparently ordered, “Who writes them?”

“What?” you ask, hoisting yourself up into the barstool next to him. You ask the bartender for a beer.

“The songs. Who writes them.”

“Oh,” you nod. Hesitate. He notices. Watches.

“Well, that answer definitely clears things up.”

“No. Sorry— I… I write them.”

“She just gets embarrassed ‘cause she thinks they suck,” Niall interrupts your awkward conversation.

“Which they don’t,” Jodie also interrupts.

You roll your eyes at them, “Thank you, peanut gallery.”

“So, what’re they all about?”

You were, honestly, surprised he was even looking in your direction. Whenever a stranger talked to him, he seemed exceptionally uninterested. When you talked, he was practically staring into your soul.

“Uh.. just… life, I guess?” you shrug with a laugh. You didn’t exactly wanna specify the fact that half of the breakup songs were about the man you were about to marry, and they were all recently written.

He shrugs, and it seems like answer enough for him. For now. It’s enough to hold him over until he gets curious again.

The bartender hands you the beer, and you give a grateful smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a beer girl.”

“Yeah, well… I’m full of surprises.”

You cringe as you say it.

“That was not as cool as you thought it was,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I realized as I said it.”

He opens his mouth, but is cut off by your phone ringing loudly on the bar top.

“Sorry,” you give an apologetic smile as you flip your phone over. You contemplate smashing your head against the bar as you read the contact information.

Connor❤️

“Of fucking course,” you roll your eyes, swiping to answer the call, “gimme a sec.” You give Niall and Jodie a signal before walking towards the front of the bar. You step outside as you speak, “Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“I told you, I’m at a gig. You said you were coming. Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I don’t wanna go to another dumb gig.”

“I— first of all, that’s rude. Don’t speak to me like that. Second of all, do you think I want to sit around and watch you compete fucking video games? No. But I do.”

“I don’t care—“

“Yeah, clearly.”

“You just need to be home soon.”

You scoff, “Yeah, okay, dad. No. I’m with Jodie and Ni and their friend. You’ll be fine at home without me. Or— and this is just a thought, so hear me out — you could’ve shown up and hung out with us.”

“You’re always at some stupid gig! When do we ever spend time together?”

You sigh, “I try to spend time with you, babe. You’re always on your phone or playing games. You always say you wanna spend time with me when I have a gig, but when we’re both free.. you wanna be anywhere but around me.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Okay, but that’s what it feels like. And.. I mean, it hurts my feelings. We’re getting married, and you can’t even be in a room with me for ten minutes?”

“That isn’t true—“

“It is, though. And yeah, maybe some of it is my fault. I do have a lot of gigs, but we’re finally getting noticed! It’s exciting, and I— I wanna share that with you, but you don’t really care.”

“You’re making this into something bigger than it needs to be.”

“Then stop fucking calling me when you skip my gigs and interrogate me!” you snap. “Just— don’t fucking call me, or talk to me, unless you want to do it without belittling and invalidating me. Bye.”

You scoffed as you hung up. You have to repeat your mantra to yourself as you inhale. I love him, I love him. We’re getting married. He’s just moody sometimes.

-

You walked back up to the bar, feeling a lot better than you had before. Jodie grinned as you approached, wrapping an arm around you.

“Hey, sexy! Where’d you run off to?” she asked.

“Asshole of the Month called,” you rolled your eyes.

“Remind me why we’re marrying him if we call him Asshole of the Month?” Niall asked.

“Okay, first of all, we aren’t marrying him. I am. Second of all.. shut up. He’s sweet most of the time.”

Jodie gave you a deadpan look.

“… Sometimes.”

…

“Okay, barely. But when we’re alone, he’s sweet, I swear! He’s just moody sometimes.”

Jodie shrugged, “We’re not judging you, babe. Just want you to be careful. We don’t want another—“ her eyes flicked to Harry, “uh… situation.. to happen, y’know?”

You look to him as well, before looking back again Jodie, “I know, and I appreciate it. But seriously, I can handle myself. I promise.”

“M’kay. Now, go sit down and get shitfaced!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” you jokingly salute her before resuming your position next to Harry.

“She hath returned,” he joked.

“I hath,” you grin before wincing.

“That was awful.”

“I’m aware. Don’t talk about it.”

“Never even happened,” he grinned.

“See? I knew I liked you,” you smiled, turning to the bartender, “can we get a round of shots, please? Thank you!”

“Phone call that bad, huh?”

“No,” you respond quickly. Too quickly. He doesn’t believe you, and it’s obvious. “No,” you repeat. “It’s just… he gets mad over things that aren’t even happening, and won’t let me explain myself. It’s just.. annoying.”

“That sounds annoying. You should punch him.”

You laugh at the absurdity of his words, “What? No. No! What? No.”

He shrugs, “Your loss.”

“… Are you— should I call the police?”

“I’m joking, babe, relax.”

“… You aren’t very.. how do I say.. good at it.”

“Gee, thanks,” he rolls his eyes.

“You just told me to punch my fiancé!” you exclaim.

He just grins at you, taking a sip of his drink. There’s a lull in the conversation, but it isn’t awkward.

“What’s the tattoo for?” he suddenly asks.

“Hm?” you hum, turning your gaze back to him.

“The tattoo. On your wrist.”

You glance down. “Oh. It’s for my older brother. It’s.. uh.. his birthday in Roman numerals.”

“.. Why the angel wings?”

You hesitate. You debate whether you wanna make it awkward.

“I mean… I’d assume it’s obvious, but.. he died. A few years ago. I was seventeen.”

“.. Oh.”

You fold your lips into a line and glance away, “Yep.”

The silence is awkward now.

“.. The weather is crazy—“

“Yeah! I mean—“

-

When the night came to an end, you and Jodie clambered into the Uber driver’s car. Niall and Harry, however, hovered outside.

“Hey,” Niall said, grabbing Harry’s arm to prevent him from walking away.

Harry turned, a confused look on his face.

“I just.. wanna say thank you.”

“… For?”

“What’d you think I was gonna do?” Harry laughed, “Threaten her with a gun?”

Niall sighed, “For being nice to Y/N tonight. She gets.. really upset when Connor doesn’t show, and she normally just ends up leaving straight after. Bur.. she seemed like she was having a nice time with you. So.. thanks.”

“I mean… yeah. You’re not exactly nice. So.. thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah. Sure. She’s.. sweet.”

“Yeah. Which is surprising, ‘cause—“ Niall stops, like he wasn’t supposed to say that.

“.. It’s surprising because what?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” he rushes out. “I just.. Look, I don’t wanna say anything, because she hates when people know, but.. she’s just been dealt a shitty hand in life. Like… your life, plus my life.. hers is still probably shittier.”

“Ni, what the fuck happened to her brother?” Harry asks.

“I.. how do you—“

“You told me, dipshit. And she has a tattoo for him.”

“.. Right,” he nods. “Forgot about that. I.. H, seriously, I can’t say. She hates when people know about.. the shit that’s happened. Like. Hates it.”

“Why? It can’t be that bad—“

“The same way you hate people being sympathetic, she hates pity. She doesn’t want people to be nice out of pity. She doesn’t want to get gigs out of pity. Seriously, I got her ice cream on her brother’s birthday and I almost died. She’s scary.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “She’s, like, the nicest person on Earth.”

“Until she’s mad! Seriously, wait ‘til you hear her and Connor fighting. She’s, like, female Gordon Ramsey.”

“.. What the f—“

“‘Ey, Ni, babe—“ Jodie shouts from inside the car. “Get in the fucking Uber before we ditch your asses!”

“Jodie!” you shriek with laughter. “Be nice!”

“Someone’s gonna call the fuckin’ cops! They look like they’re plotting murder!”

You tilt your head as you stare at them. “Oh.. yeah, nope, I see it. Get in the car, fuckers!”

-

When the Uber dropped the four of you off, Harry went to the guest bedroom and pulls out his laptop.

Would Niall kill him for what he was about to do? Probably. Was it a huge invasion of your privacy? Yes. Did he care? …. Unclear.

He opened up google and typed into the search bar.

Y/N L/N Brother.

God, Niall was gonna kill him if he found out about this.

-

a/n: sorry if this sucks i have a migraine & the whole thing deleted. so.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Hard Habit to Break

Chapter 4

Pairing: EddieMunsonxOriginalCharacter

Summary: When a chance at the career he always wanted came knocking at the same time that she received the worst news of her life, they were forced apart. Long distance, time on the road, and stories in the tabloids destroyed anything they had left, leading him down a dark road, playing the role of the bad boy rockstar his manager wanted from him. Now tragedy will bring him back to the town he swore to never step foot in again and face to face with her for the first time in years. Will he be able to stick to the plan or will she be the one habit he can't break?

Word Count: 6.7K

Trigger Warnings: Cancer battle, death of a parent, grief, addiction

18+ Only

“Now, as for the casket…”

The funeral director’s voice was a buzzing in the back of her skull, annoying, a gnat she wanted to swat away, as she followed her father into the showroom. Were they serious? Showroom? Like they were strolling in to pick out a brand new Porchse for her mom to hop in. Send her driving off into the afterlife in style. 

A flash of Linda, her long dark locks flowing behind her as she sped down the highway, the Monkees blasting loudly from the speakers. That smile, like the sun breaking through the clouds, stretching her face wide. It all flashed before Tori’s eyes, creating a physical ache in her chest, her hand attempting to rub it away.

Lacy’s fingers slid into hers and she squeezed her little sister’s hand tightly, willing any strength she could muster to transfer from herself to her sister. The twenty-four year old had burst into the the house this afternoon with all the dramatic flair she possessed, flinging herself into Tori’s arms, sobbing into her shoulder for a full ten minutes before she could calm her down. The two sisters had clung to each other like a dinghy in the middle of the ocean, seeking the kind of comfort and solace only the two of them could provide each other in their shared grief. 

“So, what do you girls think?” her dad, Frank, asked, running his fingers along the smooth wood veneer of a mahogany casket, only bringing forth that ridiculous image of a sports car to mind once again. “I want your mom…” 

He stumbled on his words, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly against his throat, just another rip across her already ruined heart. Tori knew this was destroying him too. Maybe her parents hadn’t been able to make their marriage work but they’d always remained a team, ensuring the girls were surrounded by love, that they always had everything they needed. They’d stayed friends, never stopped caring for one another.

“I want Linda to have the best, even now. She…she deserves that,” he managed, a finger running under his eye. 

He looked so brokenhearted, the sparkle that usually showed in his eyes completely dimmed now in the tragedy that had befallen their family. There had been more than one time over the years when Tori had wondered if he regretted the divorce. Did her dad wish he could go back and do things differently? Did he wish he would have tried harder to make their marriage work? Did he spend his life wondering if he’d lost the one person that was meant for him? 

The way he looked at her mom, even years after their split, it was clear he thought the sun rose and set on her. But they’d never tried again, at least not as far as she knew. Honestly, she didn’t even know why they’d split up. Her mom just always said sometimes two people can love each other but it’s not enough. That was a sentiment that Tori understood quite well. 

Tori attempted a smile that came out as more of a grimace, her face incapable of showing anything less than the grief and complete horror she felt at even having to be here. How was she making these decisions for her mother who hadn’t even had the opportunity to reach the age of fifty? It was so unfair that someone who was so full of life only got to live half of it. 

And was this really the sum of it all? Standing in this creepily clean room that smelled of death, no matter how they tried to mask it with gag-inducing floral air fresheners and cleaning products, choosing caskets and flowers? Talking about how to celebrate her? How to celebrate what exactly? Her suffering that went on for years? Her fighting with everything she had only to lose the battle in the end? Her being taken long before her time? Were they really expected to celebrate this tremendous loss? The hole it had created in their family?

“That’s good, dad,” she told him, wanting to give him the smallest bit of solace she could even when she could find none for herself. “I think she’d like that one.”

The truth was, Linda wouldn’t care whether she was buried in some fancy mahogany box or a plain one made of pine. But she just couldn’t bring herself to burst her dad’s bubble, not when he was trying so hard to do anything he could. 

Her mom had made it very clear that she didn’t want any fuss made over her death. Her mom didn’t want them to spend ridiculous amounts of money, saying it wouldn’t matter because she’d already be gone and the funeral and everything that went along with it was for all of them. Not for her. It was their chance to say goodbye and find closure. Tori’s brain flashed back to that day, sitting next to her mom, her frail hand, the veins so prominent with all the weight she’d lost, resting on top of hers. 

“Now, don’t you go wasting all my life insurance on some big, ridiculous funeral. Do you hear me, Tori? You know your dad will want to do something big and crazy but don’t let him. You do what you and your sister need to do to say your goodbyes and move on but I don’t want anyone going overboard. I won’t be here to enjoy any of it anyway. It’s not really for me. I don’t need any of that money because I’ll be dead. That money is for you and Lacy to split, to spend as you wish, to live your lives.”

“I know, mom,” Tori replied with a nod, her finger tracing over the thin skin of her mom’s hand, saying whatever she had to so they could move on. She wanted to talk about anything else but this. She’d put this conversation off for as long as she could, evading and changing the subject whenever Linda tried to bring it up, but her mom had been insistent. The doctors were only giving her weeks now and they were quickly running out of time. 

“You know…” Linda said softly, turning their hands, her thumb running over Tori’s palm, “you could use some of that money to go on a trip. A vacation would do you good, especially after all the time you’ve spent cooped up in this damn hospital with me. You need some sun, my girl. You’re starting to look as sick as I do. I hear California is pretty nice this time of year.”

Tori rolled her eyes at her mom’s very obvious implication. Leave it to Linda to worry about her love life when she was lying on her deathbed. This was only about the ninety-eighth time she had tried to bring him up within the last few weeks. Once the doctors had informed her that it was nearing the end, it seemed like she had her mind set to ensure her daughter was happy. And she obviously felt that she knew what exactly would do that.

It was the subject that Tori never wanted to discuss, the one she’d declared off limits years ago because talking about him was just too damn hard. She had enough hard in her life. There was no need to add more. She pressed her lips together and shook her head because this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for her mom to use her impending death to her advantage. She couldn’t yell at her mother or refuse her anything when she was on the verge of the end and Linda damn well knew it.

“Mom…”

Linda lifted her hand slowly, “I know. I know. You don’t like to talk about him but honey, we have to. I’ve followed all of your rules. I’ve respected your choices but I am running out of time and if we don’t talk about it now, we may never have a chance to. I can’t truly be at peace unless I know that you have found your happiness. We both know the only reason you didn’t follow that boy to California was because of me. And I am so grateful, sweetie, that you stayed. I am so thankful for all that you’ve done for me these past five years. You are the best daughter any mother could ask for. You’ve taken such good care of me when you should have been out living your life. You should have been making mistakes, having fun, being young. You’ve had to grow up far too fast. It wasn’t fair. You’re still so young and you put so much aside for me. But that particular obstacle will be out of your way in not too long here. I just don’t want you sitting around here, all alone, depressed and unhappy.”

Tori huffed, dragging her hand underneath her nose. “Sorry if my sadness is inappropriate to you. What should I be doing? Should I be laughing and dancing right now? She I be twirling in the wind, my hair billowing behind me, singing the hills are alive while my mom is laying here dying?”

“No. But I know you. Baby, I don’t want you to slip down some dark hole that you can’t climb out of. I don’t want you to keep putting your life on hold because of me. I have accepted my fate, sweet girl. It’s not fair and I wish I had more time. God, you have no idea how much I wish I could have more time. I want to see you and Lacy grow into the amazing women you are already becoming. I want to see you happy finally. I want to be there for everything life throws your way, the good and the bad. But that’s not the hand that life decided to deal me. And you know what, even for only getting forty-eight years, it’s been one hell of a ride. I couldn’t have asked for more. I’ve had more love and happiness in forty-eight years than some people get in one-hundred. I know what’s coming for me and Tori, I am honestly ready for it. I’ve fought the hard fight. I’ve fought so damn hard for so damn long and I am so tired, baby. I am ready to wave the white flag and the only thing I need before I go is to know that you’re going to be happy.”

“Mom, how can I promise you that? How can you expect me to be happy without you here? And what about Lacy?”

Linda tried to wave her hand in dismissal but it was barely a hover before it dropped back to the bed, “Oh please. That girl is going to be fine. She’s got you to lean on and you’re the strongest person I know. But I need you to remember something for me. She doesn’t need you to be her mother. She had one and yes, she’s going to lose me, but she’s grown now. She needs you to be her sister. Don’t go taking on more responsibility that’s not yours to take. And she…she’s Lacy. She goes where the wind blows her and she adapts as she needs to. She always has.”

Tori laughed, “Yeah. She’s definitely a free spirit. She wouldn’t think twice about packing up and starting over somewhere.”

“You can too, you know? You can sell this house and leave this town behind if you want. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I promise you that you are going to be okay. You take the time to grieve me but then you get up, wipe those years, and you go live your life. I need you to live, Tori. You’ve been living for me for far too long and now it’s time that you live for you.”

“Tori?”

She shook herself from the memory, running her hands over her face. Live for herself? She wasn’t sure she knew how anymore. Had she ever? She’d never had the opportunity. She’d been so young when all of this began. What would that even look like? When her dad said her name again, she looked up at him. 

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was simply asking if you had an outfit that you would like your mother to wear for her burial?” the director asked in an even tone, so professional for the grieving family. It was clearly meant to be soothing but it only grated her heart into shreds like a hard block of cheese against rough metal.

This shouldn’t be professional. It shouldn’t be calm and quiet. This wasn’t some peaceful summer day sitting on a picnic blanket under the sun, enjoying the tranquility as the water gently lapped at the sand. This was a raging storm, waves crashing relentlessly against rocks, pieces disintegrating into the mass of chaos. This was rain pounding down violently and washing away any traces of life from the beach, destroying sandcastles and obliterating footprints. How could any of them stand there so calmly as if the world wasn’t crashing down around them as they stood here talking about outfits?

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no. I honestly don’t know right now, not off the top of my head. But I can go through her clothes this afternoon and find something. I’m sure she had…I mean, my mom wears nice…well, she used to…before…I can drop something off tomorrow if that’s okay,” she stammered, the heels of her palms pressing against her burning eyelids. 

“That will be fine,” he assured her with a smile, his eyes darting down to the checklist he had on a clipboard. Of course. Death was just another thing to check off like cleaning the gutters or making your dentist appointment. Had to make sure you didn’t miss anything when someone was being erased from this existence. Make certain all traces were obliterated. “As for her jewelry, would you like us to remove it when we prepare her body or would you like her to wear it for the service? We can always remove it just prior to burial if you’d prefer. Many people choose that option so they can keep the jewelry as a keepsake for themselves or future children.”

Lacy glanced over at Tori, both girls at a loss, looking to each other to make the decision. There were just so many damn decisions to make and her head was spinning. She tried to think of the jewelry her mom usually wore. It wasn’t much anymore. Her rings wouldn’t stay on her fingers once she’d lost so much weight.

All she had on still was her necklace, the necklace her and Lacy had bought together for her the Christmas after she’d gotten her diagnosis. It was a silver phoenix, a symbol of her mother rising from the ashes, fighting back and defeating this ugly monster that was trying to invade her body and destroy her. A symbol that in the end had done nothing, meant nothing, because the monster had beaten her mother, beaten her down until her bones were brittle, her muscles atrophied, until there was nothing left but a shell lying in a cold storage room waiting to be pumped full of fluid that would preserve her just long enough for people to parade by and say how sorry they were. 

“Did…did you want the necklace?” Tori asked her sister.

Lacy shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and running off her chin. “No. Mom should keep it. Don’t you think? I mean, we got it for her…to help her fight, you know? To help…” Her voice broke off and she looked to the side, a whoosh of air releasing from her lips, her body trembling as she fought to hold herself together. “No. She should keep it. It should stay with her.”

“Very good,” the director nodded, eyes flicking down again and Tori fought against the violent urge to snatch that clipboard from his hands and snap it in half. What would he do then? How could he complete the job of erasing her mother without his precious checklist? “Do you have a florist you wish to work with?”

This was never going to end. Her teeth worried over her bottom lip, the skin already torn from how much she’d been doing that over the past few weeks. Why hadn’t she talked to her mother about all of this before? Linda had wanted to but she just couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to face it. No matter how certain her death was, Tori had wanted to hold onto hope. Now there were hundreds of questions that she didn’t have the answers to. She should have known these things. She should have already planned all of this so her dad and her sister didn’t have to be standing here doing this.

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling like she did in sixth grade when Mrs. Bollin asked her if she read the instructions thoroughly before completing the project. “Should we already have found someone?”

“No, of course not,” the director told her. “Sometimes people have made arrangements prior to their death and sometimes they haven’t. Either way is fine. We can help you with all of that. We have vendors that work with us but we are always willing to work with whoever you would like. Do you know what kind of flowers you want?” At Tori’s panicked look, he quickly added, “Or perhaps just colors? We could always choose the flowers for you if you had certain colors you’d like. Did your mother have a favorite color?”

“Yellow. She loved yellow,” Frank answered when Tori just stood there, silent. His hand came to his daughter’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Summer was her favorite time of the year and she always said yellow reminded her of long summer days: freshly squeezed lemonade on the porch, honey bees, daffodils, the sun beating down on you from the clear blue sky.”

Tori’s eyes moved to her father’s face, the lines weathered in the crinkle of his eyes, the pain etched in the hardness of his mouth. He still remembered so much about her mom, about their past together. She leaned into him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Excellent, sir. The florist we work with will be able to come up with beautiful arrangements for you. We can have one from her two daughters, one from her husband, and…”

“Ex…” Frank rasped, pulling at his collar uncomfortably as Tori straightened. He’d never gotten used to that term. Just a few months ago at the hospital he’d referred to Linda as his wife. Her mom had corrected him and he’d looked shattered, as if their divorce had happened a month ago instead of fifteen years ago. “I’m her ex husband.”

“Okay. Understood. Would you still like an arrangement put together from you?”

“Yes, yes. That would be fine,” he nodded jerkily.

“Alright and then we can have an arrangement from her children as well,” the director continued. “We can place them on either side of the casket with shelving set up around it for the other arrangements you receive from friends and family. Would you like a spray as well?”

“A what?” asked Tori. Why were there so many options? The person was gone. It shouldn’t be this complicated to leave the world. It was already complicated enough just to live in it. Leaving it should be peaceful and easy. 

“A spray,” he explained. “It’s a lovely arrangement that drapes over the top of the casket. Would you like me to show you some examples so you can decide if you would like one?”

“No. That’s okay. I mean, that’s fine. We’ll do a…spray,” Tori mumbled, wrapping her arms around her middle, trying to keep herself together, to keep her parts where they belonged instead of splattered all over the carpet of this depressing place.

“Also, you are welcome to create picture boards if you’d like. It’s a way to celebrate the time you had together. It’s always nice to see images of your loved one during all the times that you shared together,” he said with a smile, as if anything about this occasion was worth smiling about. As if Tori could focus on anything other than the fact that her mother was gone. “You are having a short showing here on Friday morning and then directly to Hawkins Presbyterian for the service, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Frank replied, his arm coming around Tori’s shoulders, squeezing her into his side, sensing that his daughter was coming apart at the seams and trying to take charge. Something he did not often do as he was probably the most emotionally fragile of all of them. She sunk into him, allowing him to hold her up, relieved to let someone else carry the weight for just a minute. 

“And do you have anyone who would like to speak at the service or do a reading?”

Frank glanced at each of his daughters and they both shook their heads. Tori couldn’t imagine standing up in front of a church full of people, sharing her grief with all of them. What could she possibly say that would begin to encapsulate the loss that was Linda Rhodes from this world? No, she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak even if she had something prepared.

“Perhaps consider it. We can always add that in later,” the director told them. “Pallbearers?”

“Oh. Well, that would be myself, Linda’s brother Paul, and then some of my girls’ friends. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington. Is that enough?”

“We may need two more, sir, as the casket is rather cumbersome but we can have staff step in if need be. You already have a burial plot and we have submitted the necessary paperwork for her internment. So, I believe all we have left is getting the obituary written.”

He smiled again and Tori somehow resisted the urge to slap it off his face as he waved his arm forward and they followed him back to office. Did he just call her mother cumbersome? Did they need more people? What if they dropped her? Jesus Christ. Tori couldn’t handle that. Maybe she could ask Will and Jonathan to help too. She released a large sigh as she dropped into a chair in the office. Now they just had to write the ending to her mother’s story. 

___________________________________________________________

A hand dropped onto Eddie’s bouncing leg, “Dude, you have got to calm down. You’re making me anxious.”

His eyes settled on his best friend. Gareth had insisted on coming along on this trip even though he’d assured him that he would be fine on his own. But, secretly, he was grateful because he’d been lying through his damn teeth when he said it. He was going to say goodbye to the only mother he’d ever known and facing the one person who could send his world crashing down by merely existing. He probably needed his friend by his side to keep him steady. 

With an audible sigh, he turned his gaze to the window, looking out at the expanse of clouds. Nothing could be seen but a sea of white below them as they flew toward Hawkins. Well, to be more accurate, Indianapolis. Hawkins wasn’t anywhere near big enough for an airport. A car would meet them when the plane landed to drive them into town. Two more hours and he would once again be in the town he hadn’t stepped foot in for over four years, the town he swore he would never step foot in again. 

And yeah, Tori was the biggest reason for that because Eddie knew he wouldn’t be able to see her without coming undone. He wouldn’t be able to look into those eyes, the blue of fire when it blazed hottest, without losing himself to the darkness all over again. But she wasn’t the only reason he had no intention of going back.

He’d swore he would never go back to that place, full of people who had judged him and treated him like wadded up gum on the bottom of their shoe for his whole life. He’d swore he would get out and that, when he did, he would never look back. Fuck Hawkins. Fuck those small minded idiots and all their bullshit. 

That town had made his life hell. The only bright lights had been his band, Hellfire, his uncle, and her. He was only happy when he was with his friends, in the trailer with his uncle, or cocooned in the safety of her house. Her mom would have Abba blasting through the speakers as she danced around the kitchen, making them dinner, and then would slaughter them in a game of Uno. It was one of the few places where he felt accepted, felt like someone actually cared about him, believed him, saw him as something worthwhile. 

“It’s not my fault if you’re anxious. I told you that you didn’t have to come,” he grumbled at Gareth, slumping down his seat, arms folded over his chest, looking every bit the petulant toddler.

“And I told you, yes I do,” Gareth argued right back. “Look, it’s not just about you, okay? You’re not the only one who needs to say goodbye or pay respects to a woman who was so good to us. You’re not the only one who loves Tori and wants to show up for her. I love her too, you know. I want her to know that. I want to be there for her. She wasn’t just important to you, Eddie. When you started dating her, she became a part of all of us and you’re not the only one who lost her.”

“I know,” he groaned, leg nervously jiggling once again. He did know. The guys loved her, not as much as he had. Nobody in this universe could love her as much as he had but pretty damn close. She’d become such a big part of his life, and in turn, she had become a big part of theirs. She sat through campaigns, practices, and more shows than he could count. Tori never missed a chance to watch them play. They’d all spent endless hours together. “I know you do. I just…this is going to be complicated enough as it is. I don’t want to overwhelm her with an onslaught of people she never thought she’d see again.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking. That he didn’t want to overwhelm her with people she may never want to see again. It was going to be bad enough when she caught sight of him, let alone Gareth. Thank God he’d been able to convince Jeff and Matt to stay behind, assuring them that he would pass along their condolences. He didn’t think she could handle her entire past showing up to slap her in the face right now. A reminder of everything she didn’t want anymore, everything she’d walked away from, delivered right on her doorstep at the worst moment of her life.

“Eddie, I am pretty sure aftering seeing you, everything else will feel like cake for her,” Gareth chortled. “I mean, come on. Tori is not going to care less about my being there. She loves me, man. I wasn’t the one who…well, let’s just be honest. You’re going to be the one to overwhelm her and that would happen whether I showed up with you or not. She doesn’t even know you’re coming, does she?” “I don’t think so,” he admitted, picking at his cuticles nervously, his teeth scraping at his bottom lip once again. “Henderson probably won’t tell her. He won’t want to give her the option to tell him no. He believes in just doing what he thinks is right and asking for forgiveness later. You know what a meddling little shit he is. And he’s never given up hope, you know? Living in some fantasy world where things can still…he needs to get over it. He doesn’t talk about her with me but he drops enough hints without actually saying it. So cocky, always thinking he knows what’s best for everyone.”

Gareth snorted, “Yeah. He’s annoying as shit but he means well. I don’t know if surprising her with you is a good idea, but hey, we’ll find out in a few hours, won’t we?”

“Yeah. About that…Henderson said that she was doing all the funeral home shit with her dad and Lacy today. I don’t know if I should surprise her today. She’s probably going to be exhausted after all of that and the last thing she’s going to need is another shock to her system. Maybe we should just head to my uncle’s and then go over there tomorrow, you know? Give her some time before we spring…well, me, on her?” Eddie paused, his hand running down his face with a loud groan. He hated this so much. He hated that she might not want him there. He hated that seeing her was so complicated when it used to be as easy as breathing. “Shit, man. What in the hell am I even doing right now? Maybe I should have just listened to you all and kept my ass in California. She is going to be so pissed off when she sees me.”

“She isn’t going to be pissed off,” Gareth said, shaking his head. “Surprised? Absolutely. Shocked? Definitely. Probably a little sad, too. But I really don’t think she’s going to be pissed that you came. It’s not like the two of you had some knock down, drag out fight and things ended badly with you two hating each other.”

“Well, it's not like things ended well, either,” Eddie shot back. “She kept seeing all those damn tabloid photos and I think she thought I was cheating on her. Fucking Gary and his stupid ideas, wanting me to be this hardcore rock and roll playboy.”

“I mean, it worked though,” shrugged Gareth. “They wanted you to be the next Steven Tyler or Mick Jagger. The guys want to be you and the women want to fuck you. Gary may have been an asshole but he was a smart publicist.”

“Gary can fuck right off. He ruined my goddamn life. She said she couldn’t handle it anymore. Between wondering who I was with and going months without talking, it was just too much for her to handle. And then I swore I was going to show up for her birthday party but that interview came up at the last minute and I forgot to even call and tell her. She hasn’t spoken to me in years, Gare. She wouldn’t even take my calls. Her mom or Lacy always had some excuse ready, claiming she wasn’t home. You know that shit wasn’t true. She barely left Linda’s side once she was sick besides going to work at the library. After a while, I just stopped trying because it was clear she had no interest in even speaking to me.”

For months after that last phone call, the call when she ended things for good, he’d tried. Eddie had been desperate, a man clinging to a life raft, needing to get her to change her mind. He knew things were hard at the moment but he had to believe they wouldn’t always be. He had to believe that things could get better because he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. 

He’d always believe they were meant to be. One day she would move out to L.A. with him and they would live in that massive house he’d always promised her with the infinity pool and the view of the mountains. But she wouldn’t even pick up the damn phone. Linda would say she was out with Robin. Lacy would say she was sleeping. Frank would tell him that she was at the movies with Nancy. It was all bullshit. He knew it. There was no way she was never there, never available, no matter what time of day or night he called. 

Tori had been avoiding him. It was as simple as that. She was letting him know that she was done with him and he had to accept it whether he wanted to or not. She hadn’t given him any choice in the matter. She’d made the decision for both of them and he had to live with it. 

What killed him, what he could never get past, was how easy it had been for her to end it, to walk away as if none of it had ever meant anything to her. As if all the plans they made had been some kind of joke to her. As if almost eight years were nothing but a blip in her life. How could she do that? 

It hadn’t been that easy for him. He’d spiraled down into a deep, dark pit of despair that he almost didn’t claw his way out of. He’d dove into the rockstar lifestyle, becoming exactly who she’d been scared he was. If that’s what she thought of him then that’s what he’d become. He allowed it to consume him, to fill all those jagged crevices she’d left inside him, trying to drown his sorrows in coke, alcohol, and sex that meant absolutely nothing to him. 

It had been ugly. The band had almost crashed and burned right along with him, everything they’d worked so hard for going up in one fiery explosion that had been Eddie’s failure to cope. If it hadn’t been for Gareth and Arty kicking his ass, forcing him to go to rehab, sitting by his side the entire time, he honestly might not be sitting on this plane right now. 

He’d been clean for two years now but it had been an uphill battle, one he was constantly fighting to maintain in a world that was full of nothing but excess and people more than willing to get you whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it. That was why he had to keep his senses about him on this trip, to remind himself that he was just here to pay his respects to a woman who’d meant the world to him. He was here to be a friend, to honor the relationship they’d once had, offer his sympathies, and then he was gone again. Out of her life, the way she wanted him to be. He couldn’t allow himself to hope, no matter what Henderson said. Hope was a precarious slope, one he couldn’t allow himself to fall down.

“Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know,” Gareth nodded, fingers tapping against the armrest, clearly taking his own trek down the dark, winding memory lane that was Eddie’s addiction. “I was right there watching you lose your mind when she wouldn’t take your calls. I was right there while you fell apart, doing anything to forget the pain. But Eds, you know as well as I do that Tori wasn’t wrong. Your relationship was not working. There was no way it was going to work when you had to be two thousand miles apart.”

“You don’t know that,” he argued, unable to say the words even when he knew his friend was right. Tori had tried to end things before he left but he’d begged her to try, lying to himself, convincing himself that they would be okay, that they were strong enough to make it. They were meant to be. Nothing could come between them. Clearly, he’d been wrong. He’d forced her into something she’d never wanted to do in the first place and he’d more than paid the price for it. 

“I do, man, and so do you. You tried. The shit she was dealing with was heavy. It was crushing her and trying to juggle you on top of it, it was just too much. It was that last bit that was going to bury her until she couldn’t breathe. And then the distance, the shit she’d read in magazines, never knowing what to believe or not, not being able to depend on you when she needed someone to lean on. I mean, I’m not saying it was anyone’s fault here but you can’t blame her. I think it was the only way for her to survive at the time.”

“I don’t blame her,” snapped Eddie, wishing like hell he wasn’t stuck on this goddamn plane. He needed a cigarette, he needed space, he needed some fucking air. He needed to get the hell out of this conversation. “I don’t, okay? I’m not angry at her. I mean, I was at first. God, I was so fucking pissed at her. I felt like she had just lied to me all that time. That she never loved me because if she did, if she loved me even a fraction of the way I loved her, how could she just cut me off? How was she not completely losing her mind like I was?”

“You don’t know that she wasn’t,” reasoned Gareth. “You weren’t there, Eddie. You aren’t there.”

“I know I’m not. I know I wasn’t…but I want to be. I mean, I want to be there for her right now. I used to be that person for her. I used to be the one she’d call, the one she’d run to when shit hit the fan. When her mom got diagnosed, she ran straight to me. When her dad got offered that job in Texas and she was scared he was going to take it, she ran to me. When Billy started harassing her at school, she ran to me. Her mom just died and she didn’t even call to tell me. The only reason I even knew how Linda was doing was because of Dustin. The only reason I knew she passed was because of Robin. I…I just want to be there for her like I used to be. I want to but I don’t even know how anymore. Hell, I have no idea what I’m even doing right now.”

Gareth laughed, his head rolling over the headrest to look at Eddie, “That’s pretty obvious. Look, just be a friend to her, okay? Don’t pressure

her. Don’t be all dramatic. Just pay your respects. Don’t make it weird. Try to be normal. Try not to be…well, you.”

“And just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. Don’t be over the top, okay? I know that’s hard for you but try. You’re not here to be her boyfriend. She didn’t call you because you’re not that person for her anymore. You’re just here as an old friend who wants to offer their sympathies. You’re here as someone who cared about her and cared about her mom. You’re here to pay your respects, say your own goodbyes, and be supportive. Don’t go all dramatic on her, alright? She’s got enough shit on her plate without you throwing yourself all over her and acting like an idiot.”

“I’m not gonna throw myself all over her. Jesus Christ, Gareth, give me some credit. I’m not some fifteen year old kid who can’t control his hormones.”

Gareth just stared at him for a beat, “Uh-huh…sure you’re not. Look, I know you loved her. I know you thought she was the one but it’s been four years, man. You don’t even know her anymore. She’s lived an entire life without you in it. All this shit with her mom has to have altered her. She may not even be the girl we knew anymore.”

“She’s still Tori,” he grumbled stubbornly, refusing to believe that she could be anything but the girl he’d loved for so long. “There’s no way the girl I met when she was sixteen, the girl who left me at twenty-four, is that different from the woman she is now at twenty-eight.”

“Maybe not but she’s grieving, man. The last thing she needs is you making shit any heavier than it already is. Just be cool, okay? No jumping on furniture to make grand proclamations or word vomiting all your thoughts all over her. Just be…cool.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I can be cool. I’m like the king of cool. Just read any of the articles written about us. I am the coolest,” huffed Eddie, crossing his arms, turning his head toward the window as they began to land, feeling anything but cool.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. I am forever trying to better my writing so feedback is always welcome and reblogs are always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. And if you do, please make sure your age is on your profile. I will not add if it's not. Next chapter will be posted on 06/19.

Taglist: @browneyes528@chevelle724@tlclick73@transparentenemypenguin@missmarch-99 @madaboutjoe

[lukedanger]

Caitlyn's Narrow Way Through without a Golden Path - A Spectulation

So, in the new S2 teaser, Caitlyn lists three objectives for her task force: locate Jinx, dismantle shimmer, and neutralize any of Silco's remaining loyalists. A clear set of objectives, and ones that in theory allow for precision as not every Zaunite is a Silco loyalist - the Firelights, for one. And ones that would almost certainly be in contrast to someone else's idea of how to retaliate. Say, a Noxian invasion? An invasion that this compromise of her leading a task force into Zaun can avert. Yet to do so, Caitlyn would still need to lead the Enforcers into Zaun as a military force: the opposite of what she wanted before.

This is not going to be pretty, but I think this is going to be a situation where she sees it as the least bad option. Caitlyn knows full well that the Piltover Council being exploded was not an attack by Zaun as a whole - Jinx made the decision herself. Caitlyn absolutely wants revenge, but I do not see her wanting to collectively punish all of Zaun for it.

Others, though, are itching to punish all of Zaun for the hexrocket attack. The most likely leading voice for that? Ambessa Medarda: if Piltover does nothing, then Noxus steps in. And Ambessa's methods would be an indiscriminate orgy of blood and fire that isn't going to care whether a Zaunite was one of Silco's men or a Firelight who opposed him. And we know that Noxus is sending at least one ship full of troops for the job from the teaser.

So, Caitlyn, now the closest thing Piltover has to a leader (assuming Jayce and Mel are out of action even if they live), steps up to the plate. She takes the reins before Ambessa makes a decision for them. And with that Sword of Damocles overhead tries to find a way through, however narrow, that avoids a total war between the cities or Piltover becoming a de facto Noxian vassal.

She creates a compromise to appease the warmongers while still avoiding collective punishment of Zaun, and asserts that Piltover is not free real estate. A narrow path of three limited objectives to resolve things in the absence of a golden path to bring justice to both cities. It is not a good solution, but the now-dead council missed every opportunity for one in their neglect and apathy. Cait makes a plan with the options she has available to her after all the better ones were lost.

Is it a good plan? Hell no! I fully expect that Cait's willingness to launch even a limited invasion of Zaun as a compromise is going to be because she wants revenge herself. At the same time, I don't think it is going to completely erase her good heart. She still is going to want the cities to heal, she just sees this conflict as one that needs to be resolved. Definitively. By her actions. Once she finishes fixing this crisis, they can deal with the actual root causes. The alternative means surrendering to despair and letting the broken system continue to fail.

But with her judgment clouded by revenge and no small amount of "I have to fix this because I seem to be the only topsider who cares", Caitlyn could lose the good heart we know her for in the first season. No doubt Ambessa will be there constantly encouraging Caitlyn to listen to the little voice in her head that says 'screw them all, they deserve to suffer for killing mom!'. To include more and more under the description "Silco's Loyalists" until that distinction is functionally meaningless. Or even starts counting Silco's enemies like the Firelights when they object to the inevitable excesses of the Enforcers.

This is where Vi will step in, I believe. She is someone who cares about Cait as a person and who is not going to fall in line to enable her worst impulses past a point of no return. I fully expect that Vi will call Caitlyn's judgment into question when it absolutely needs to be, painful an argument as it will be for those involved and to watch.

At the same time, it will be that argument that yanks Caitlyn away from the void she was about to step into. The other half of this is that when Vi calls Cait out, she listens and learns. It's just that this time, it is the lover's plea to the hero to step back before it is too late.

Maybe it is still too late for the main plan by the time this happens. Maybe this is what causes the final showdown between sisters as Cait has to let go and trust Vi to face this alone. Or maybe Vi has to do it alone because Caitlyn has to stop Ambessa as their timer runs out. There's a lot of ways it could go from here, but I think it will be a continuation of the same thing: a desperate attempt to find the narrow way through as every better option is closed off.

[hella1975]

choked up in my room rn bc i was sat in the car with my mum completely lost in thought and she out of nowhere went 'are you okay?' and i was like 'yeah? why?' bc i was totally fine i was literally just thinking and she let it go and then five entire minutes later she goes 'are you sure? have i done something?' and she sounded so genuinely anxious and i could tell she'd been thinking about it the entire 5 minutes while id been completely oblivious and i spent so many years as a child letting everything bottle up until it all burst out in a messy and ugly breakdown that took her down with me and despite that she never hated me she only ever blamed herself for not seeing the signs and she's never been able to see my signs because i keep everything to myself and it terrifies her that she might miss something and she handles things poorly when she's scared and she gets too angry but fundamentally she's trying her absolute hardest to be a good mother and it wasn't always enough and i know i have to hold her at least partially accountable but also she's my mum and im her daughter and she always just wants to know if im okay and most of the time im not and somehow that feels like ive betrayed her

[barredandromeda]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[slippery-minghus]

hmm. had an actual conversation with nightmare coworker today that seemed mutually productive. she apologized for saying some bullshit that hurt my feelings and i clarified that my intentions are to help not to undermine her, and we both agreed that there's no competition against each other and that it's the lack of growth in our role that's the problem. it was...productive.

and further cementing for me that it is time to begin making my Exit. i will be sending out my resume to a few places this weekend.

i'm still processing the conversation, and am struggling to place myself in where i am responsible to better my behavior. because i genuinely don't want to be an ass, even though i really don't like this lady and will jump for joy the day i never have to see her again. she stated that she knows my intentions aren't to hurt her, and that she thinks i'm very kind. i apologized for if my behavior came off as undermining her, and said that my intentions are only to better my own growth—and that i know she's trying to succeed too. i validated her feelings, and complemented the effort she is putting in.

where i'm struggling with is: am i in the wrong/causing harm and needing to change if the issue is that her feelings are incongruent with what she knows of my intentions? her feelings are her responsibility (WOW i almost typed "her feelings are my responsibility". i feel like that's a freudian slip) and she states that she knows i don't mean to hurt her. i'm going to try to be more clear in wording my intentions with her (she feels like me trying to take work off her plate is to undermine her. when really, i'm caught up and see her getting overwhelmed, and i want to help and also have something to do since i'm bored).

but i'm really struggling to look at my role in this and pass judgement on myself. i can and want to do better, and i don't think i did anything wrong, but i'm always so hesitant to say it's not my fault or i didn't do something bad. like i can't trust my judgement on that. my intentions were good, her bad feelings are ones caused by her insecurities, which she more or less has expressed to be aware that they are not true—the hurtful thing she said to me, she acknowledged was said out of hurt and not what she actually thinks. so, is it fair to say i'm not the bad guy? i'm not in the wrong? i know good intentions that still result in harm don't absolve anyone, but when the things that are clashing are insufficient communication and reactive insecurities... i'm not a monster, am i?

[orkbutch]

Rambling about Astarion bc im bored at work. I like Astarion because I think he is a genius take on The Evil RPG Companion, and is an especially great take on The Fixable Bad Guy. I don't think hes evil, but I do think Astarion is a genuinely bad person at the beginning, and I think Astarion is only drawn away from being a bad person - and experiences a great redemption arc - via active intervention from others. Astarion would not redeem himself without guidance; he is absolutely bent toward self destruction and evil at the beginning of the story.

I think comparing him with Shadowheart is what drew me to that conclusion. If you are nice to Shadowheart, as in you talk to her and respect her boundaries and do stuff she generally agrees with, she will choose to free Nightsong all on her own. You don't need to roll to convince her at all, or romance her or even push back on her Shar worship that much. You just leave it up to her, and she chooses that path. (Side note, what brilliant writing.)

Astarion is not like that at all. Even if you were tight as fuck he would not choose the good option, with no input, in Act 2. Astarion, like all the companions, needs help and connection to reach healthy actualization, but I think its great, resonant writing that Astarion needs the most active intervention of all. Because he's had his autonomy so completely taken away from him, he simply doesn't know how to use it anymore. He doesn't know how to connect with other people anymore. He's someone that's learned to enjoy cruelty, to resent the pleasure of others, and to be entirely selfish for survival. It makes sense that he must be dragged back into being capable of trust. He needs to be forced to be part of a community again; caring about things; allowing for vulnerability and optimism.

And like. How fucking smart is it to have THIS guy in THIS game. Because of the tadpole and the existential threat they're up against, he is actually forced to work with you. This kind of character is so hard to do in most RPGs because its like... why wouldn't he just betray you all and leave? Why would he stick with you? The tadpole clears all of that up. Astarion must stick with you or hes lost and dead. Astarion knows that you and the other companions are collectively stronger than him, so he can't betray you. He is forced to rely on you by default.

This is also what makes him SUCH a good version of the "you can fix him" romance; you are almost never the direct target of Astarion's bastardry because he can't fuck with you. The problem with Fix Him's is that usually they are a threat to the romantic lead, and fixing him requires enduring, soothing and forgiving the worst of his badness as some kind of test of loyalty, hopefully proving to him that being bad isn't necessary (toxic shit). But Astarion... can't do that. He is afraid to actually fuck you over because you are directly tied to his survival, and because you quickly show yourself to be more capable than him. He cannot have real power over you. (Until he's ascended, then he becomes the absolute worst version of the fix-it.)

I do think the trade off is that Astarion not directing his bastardry at you makes it easier to Ignore that Astarion is A Bad Guy, but I think that'd happen even if he was more of an asshole to you, so who cares. I think he's got the best written Redeemable Evil RPG Companion arch I've seen honestly. I love that he's so fun while being so tragic, whether redeemed or not.

[sashisuse]

okay so what we’re not going to do is villainize shoko.

jjk 261 spoilers, thoughts, and a brief analysis of shoko. (and touching on some sashisu stuff. more specifically the sash part.)

i see a lot of people bashing her for not having a reaction to the body swapping plan and that satoru was like ‘i’m mostly surprised shoko didn’t object’ SO. here’s what i’ve got to say.

shoko didn’t object because she was fully under the belief that satoru was going to win. that it wasn’t going to happen. it was literally the worst worst worst WORST case scenario. she had SO MUCH faith in satoru.

let’s rewind back to the shibuya arc. what we knew about shoko at that time regarding her use of cigarettes was that she had quit five years (iirc) prior to those events. her smoking habits literally revolve around satoru’s wellbeing.

mind you this was after she and yaga learned satoru had been sealed. she heard the news and immediately began smoking. why? because shoko is a person who masks her emotions and she does it well. she’s not the type of woman to break down in tears. she’s going to hide it and instead light up a cigarette.

we saw this with her interaction with suguru. she acted very nonchalant about his defection and the massacre he committed on the village and his parents. but when we fast forward ten years and go to jjk0, it’s made abundantly clear that she still cares about him. during the meeting where yaga declares they’re going to kill suguru — i’m pretty sure his words were ‘exorcise the curse that is geto suguru’ or something along those lines — shoko leaves. she flat out walks out. and during the night parade of 100 demons, we have a moment where see the most emotion out of shoko that we have for the majority of the series. she’s angry. she’s hurt. she has these thoughts of something along the lines of like ‘you sure made a mess for us’ regarding suguru. and it’s especially prominent because it’s the first time we’ve ever seen her like this and only time. the closest we get to seeing that again is during the sukuna fight.

she literally cares so much but she’s just emotionally constipated and doesn’t know how to show it 😭 it’s an issue both she and satoru have. they deflect. they mask. they move on and yet the carry it with them somewhere deep inside them.

so we go back forward to satoru and sukuna’s fight. where we do see emotion from shoko but what’s most important to note is the panels she’s in. when they focus on her, she’s either smoking a cigarette, lighting a cigarette up, or we see her surrounded by cigarette butts.

we see her genuinely fearful at this point. she had full confidence that satoru was going to win. that’s why she said ‘do what you want’ and didn’t object. because in her mind, it wouldn’t happen.

it’s very important to remember that sashisu, whether you see it in a romantic or platonic way, was a group that cared so fucking deeply for one another. their bonds were deep. their love for their found family was deep. it’s part of the reason why suguru defected in the end. which i can get it into but not at this time. but at the end of the day, sashisu had ass communication skills and failed to properly understand one another.

and that seems to continue on with the satoshoko side of that, which was left after suguru left. and after he died.

also, it’s really important to remember that shoko is not like satoru and suguru. she’s a healer. that’s it. that’s all she does. she doesn’t get to fight or be on the front lines like they do. she’s the one who gets to wait behind and wait until the damage is done to do her job. she’s been doing this since she was (probably) 15, maybe even younger since we don’t know her backstory. she’s going to be emotionally detached. also, keep in mind this page:

specifically her first piece of dialogue. ‘it’s more like we have to do it.’

and that’s the bottom line.

whew. this was rough. shoko ieiri you will always be loved by me.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Knowing

I have just had the worst, or best, brainwave and I need to share it. 

Here is an AU for you.

Vader thinks that he killed his wife and child, right?

Right up until he meets little Leia Organa when she is 10 years old. Like his one brain cell woke the fuck up when he was confronted with a passionate, angry little girl with Padme’s eyes and his chin. This is maybe a month after she was kidnapped and returned to Alderaan. Leia decides that she would need to learn how to be a senator and insists that Bail takes her with him to the next session of the imperial senate.  

Bail does not want to bring her to the imperial senate. However he knows very well who her birth parents were, it is either Bail brings Leia to the Imperial Senate or Leia brings Leia to the Imperial Senate, probably bringing with her someone she really shouldn’t (Like actual Obi Wan Kenobi-I just want you to picture for a moment, because Bail certainly did, looking up and realizing that Leia is charging down the halls outside his office, dragging with her a bemused and sandy Obi Wan, both in badly conceived disguises).

Bail is super stressed as he tries to run a rebellion while riding herd on his well meaning but very direct 10 year old daughter on top of his normal duties as an imperial senator. Bail is also very afraid that the moment the Emperor sees Leia, he will make the connection between Leia and Padme Amidala (The emperor does not socialize with the senate any longer, thank the stars). He has no idea that Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, so has no cause to be more careful than normal (because Vader) about Vader seeing Leia. As such Bail does not even notice when Vader stops to consider them from the shadows. Leia is haranguing another planet’s senatorial aide who had chosen the wrong moment to make a bigoted joke. 

Vader is very abruptly, though mentally, thrown back to this very hallway 12 years earlier where he watched his wife do the same thing, for the same reason, possibly to this same aide. Though Leia is still a child and Padme was an adult, he can still see his wife in this little girl.

The realization that this is Padme’s child hits him with the force of a Ventanor. Followed immediately, before he even realized that this meant that his child was standing in front of him, by the soul deep knowledge that she must be protected from the Emperor at all costs. 

Vader had known for years that his suit had been designed to cause him more pain, he just thought he deserved it. The thought of Palpatine getting ahold of Padme’s daughter was abhorrent. Vader sticks to the shadows and watches, seeing how well Bail loved and protected Leia. 

While he is thinking(read Obsessing) about his daughter, the part of him that is always centered on Obi Wan points out that his old master had been one of the last people to see Padme after Vader choked her. But the little voice that spoke in Padme’s tones piped up, the shock of Leia living being enough to finally make this little voice loud enough to be heard, saying that until recently Obi Wan believed that Anakin Skywalker was all the way dead, he was protecting their child as best as he knew how. 

And Vader has issues with just about every choice Obi Wan Kenobi ever made. But he will admit that hiding Padme’s daughter was the best option. 

As Vader knows that paying too much attention to Leia would draw the Emperor’s attention, he would be willing to wait until the right moment to get his daughter back. His one concession to his need to protect her was taking one of his personal guard, one of the few units still made up almost entirely of clones, and assigning them to be Leia Organa’s bodyguard, her shadow (I also want you to take a moment to consider what that did for Bail’s stress level).  And then Vader gets to planning. 

With his one brain cell awake and focused on the Organa’s it takes Vader all of 15 minutes to realize that Bail Organa is running the Rebellion (I want it to be clear, this is not a slight on Bail at all, Anakin Skywalker was a war general, well educated through the Jedi on a number of subjects, and does have a fair measure of politics learning from both his former master and his dead wife).  However Vader is no more loyal to the Empire than Anakin was to the Republic.  In fact, upon realizing that Padme’s daughter had lived Vader firmly decided that he needed to find a way to kill Palpatine to crown Leia.  With the realization that Bail, and likely Leia (neither Vader nor Anakin have any idea what activities are appropriate for a 10 year old), are part of the Rebellion, Vader decides that The Rebellion would succeed (or everyone would die trying). 

Note: Vader only really gets away with no one realizing that he now supported the Rebellion because, well, no one can quite believe that Darth Vader supports the Rebellion. Most people think there is a new type of Space Madness, and that one of the symptoms is hallucinating Darth Vader giving you intel for the Rebellion.

By the time Leia was a teenager, rumors abound about the odd way that Vader acted around her. By sheer happenstance (and some judicial violence on Vader’s part) these rumors had never reached the Emperor. A good deal of these rumors implied that Vader was looking to the Princess of Alderaan as a wife.  The reaction Vader had, the only time it was brought up in front of him, was…impressive, even for the amount of violence he normally dealt out. Still there are members of Vader’s personal guard who watch over Leia whenever she is on Imperial Center, and no one wants to repeat the time when she was 12 when one of Bail enemies tried to kidnap her for ransom.  It took an entire corps of engineers to put those levels back to rights (after they scrubbed the blood off).  

So we get all the way up to the timeframe of ANH. The Death Star in this does not start out under the control of Darth Vader. It starts out under the control of Tarkin, it is important to note this. Leia still sends out R2D2 and C3P0 to find Obi Wan Kenobi, none of that part changes. 

It is after Leia is captured that Darth Vader shows up (does he lurk silently in any system that Leia is due to be in as often as he can get away with…why yes, yes he does). Tarkin had wanted Leia tortured, however no one wanted to find out how many decks Vader would spread their entrails across for touching her.  Vader arrives on the bridge just as Tarkin is threatening to blow up Alderaan. Tarkin orders the weapon to begin its charge. 

Leia, Leia who is so like her mother in that she will use every weapon in her arsenal, turns to Darth Vader and speaks to him for the first time. ‘Please’ she said, no effort to hide her distress, ‘please save my planet’

Something Leia had no cause to know-An angel who she resembled once thanked Anakin Skywalker for saving her planet. 

Tarkin is dead almost before she finishes speaking. Vader orders the DS weapons to power down and disengage, which is done post haste. Then announces that Leia Organa was now in control. 

So Leia now owns a Death Star (genuine article-never used). Leia is not sure if that is how this works, but no one is arguing with the tall man in black who has OPINIONS and will enforce them.  Leia manages to communicate this to her parents, who take a shuttle up to the space station to figure out what the fuck is going on, and what, if anything, they need to do next.

Two hours later: Obi Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, R2D2, C3P0, and Chewbacca have just been caught trying to sneak onto the Death Star. The Organas are still on board, trying to get answers (In that time Vader has said precisely five words to them ‘You have raised her well’).  It is to this room that the troopers manning the station (who are deeply confused and a bit conflicted because it seems like they may have all been forcibly defected from the Empire, but no one is willing to disobey Lord Vader) bring Obi Wan and co. and present them to Leia, as she is considered in command.  Somehow Luke’s full name (I kind of picture him still dumbly introducing himself to Leia, followed with ‘we’re here to rescue you’) gets used before the situation deteriorates. Which naturally causes everything to deteriorate further and faster than before.  

Far away on Imperial Center, the Emperor pauses in the middle of a hallway ‘I feel’ he says to no one ‘a disturbance in the Force.’ another pause ‘like some shit has just hit the fan’

Far away on Dagobah Yoda looks up, ‘weird, shit just got’

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: you get arrested and sent to the fortress of meropide after being oblivious to a Fontainian crime, so your boyfriend Nuevi gets you out by striking a deal with the Duke, Wriothesley ;)

tags: threesome, double penetration, semi-public, vulgar, explicit

wrd cnt: 500+

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

You couldn't believe the circumstances you were in, who knew Fontaine had some obscure rules with loans? One overdue day and you'd have rather get strucken by a loan shark than be sitting in the Fortress of Meropide right now.

You did get one call though, and of course the most sensible person to contact right now was the Ludex, who just so happened to be your partner. He could surely get you out of here, if anyone.

It was almost a whole hour wait, as Neuvillette was in the middle of a trial, but left as urgently as he could to come get you. That wasn't the only obstacle, the most difficult was the Duke.

"I'm sorry Neuvillette, I can't bend the rules for you" the brown haired man stammered on, "as much as l've done it before...this one's out of my control. She's in the files now." He explains. "I could try but it's too risky".

You heard back and forth for some time.

After what seemed to be hours of negotiations, it seemed your boyfriend ran out of all his other ideas.

"If it's really this hard" Neuvillette said, putting a firm grasp on your thigh, pulling it open slightly, "I don't mind...sharing some of the difficulties with you, Wriothesley. You've always been one for risks."

You felt your face burn in a deep pink hue, was he really about to whore you out? In this cell?

"Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen..." You thought in your head.

"Mr Wriothesley, there must be a way we can figure this out?" You plead. Going along with your partner.

"You two...you're quite forward huh? Do I follow you clearly?" He asked, standing from his chair to approach you two while loosening his tie.

It was exactly clear, and Wriothesley was exactly right.

"This place is quite uncomfortable, I can't believe you'd subdue her to this, Duke."

"Well I'm not the one who built it you know, I just run the place."

"Well honestly we need to reevaluate, seems all too gauche." Neuvillette admitted, complaining about the bars he was pressed up against.

"S-slow down- fuck..." You breathe out, barely managing to keep your eyes open while the two men bicker while deep inside you, all too casual in such a risqué act. Your back was pressed up against Neuvi, resting your hands on his arms which held you up, cupping your ass, while Wrio held your legs up, pressing closely to your front while they both put their cocks in your wet hole.

"Aww...getting tired? I can assure you it's better than staying in here my dear" Wrio says, gripping your legs tighter as he smirks down at you "If you were to stay any longer, I'd be real hard for me to ignore you now after this..."

You hear Neuvillette scoff at his flirty remark, "treading dangerous waters now Duke, be careful" he said, a slightly threatening tone.

"Lighten up...just making some conversation." He says annoyed, tilting his head in curiosity at your face, shifting down to whisper close to you, pressing your legs against him closer in turn.

"What's your name sweetheart?" He asks. His lips brushing against your cheek.

Out of breath, you mutter it out for him, almost unnoticed over the sound of your sticky cum soaked cunt and his lower stomach slapping together. Your moans bounced off the walls in the cold dark room. You wondered if anyone could hear you.

If anyone was listening to you mewl and cry in pleasure over getting stuffed full of cock.

"Fuck...you're so tight, Y/n..." He grunts out, fucking you even harder now.

"You're being so good my love" Neuvillette speaks into your other ear, "I'm sure we'll get you out of here now" he assures, caressing your waist with his thumb as he holds you up, his cock slowly hitting the gummy spot in your pussy, completely opposite of Wrios animalistic thrusts. "Right, Wriothesley?"

"Fuck- you feel so.... Huh? Oh yeah just- don't worry hun...I'll..." Wriothesley rambles incoherently, drunk on your pussy.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[ao3commentoftheday]

another writer stole parts of my fic.

i found out about it by sheer coincidence, because they were asking for a feedback on their fic on the server we were both part of.

i read the fic out of curiosity and noticed paragraphs and storylines taken from my fic.

the worst part is she's a bigger writer than I am, she has big tiktok account in my ship and she publishes chapters faster than me (understandable how now as she copies parts from other people) so her work buried mine down and surpassed by all stats.

She has bigger platform then me, bigger clout. I'm not on tiktok so i can't call her out on her own platform.

And she has my fic in her bookmarks.

I don't know what to do :/ Kind of want to call her out but also i can't muster the energy to fight a battle like this.

I never really see the point of call outs, myself. The people who love that person rarely change their minds. The people who support you already support you. All that a callout post will do is cause a lot of drama that you don't want to have to deal with.

Instead, I recommending reporting her work(s) to the Policy & Abuse Committee (PAC). They can investigate and determine whether plagiarism occurred. If it did, they will ask her to edit her fic to change it. If she doesn't, they'll delete it.

(it's more complicated than that and it takes a long time, but that's the gist)

To contact PAC, go to the work that you want to report (the one that she plagiarized) and scroll down to the footer. Click on Policy Questions & Abuse reports. Explain what you think happened and include a link to the work that you think she copied. If they are multichapter works, tell them which chapter(s) were taken and give them whatever other information you can to help them find the specific parts.

If more than one of your fics was affected, you can include all of the links in the same report - no need to report each one separately. Just make sure it's clear which story belongs to her and which belongs to you.

PAC may come back to you with questions. They'll definitely reach out to this other author. They won't mention your name, and you won't hear any details about the other person until PAC can tell you what their determination is. They take confidentiality very seriously.

I will say, ideas will need to be very specific in order for that to be the determining factor for plagiarism. Most of the time, the call will be made based on the text itself an how similar it is to each other. For more information about how they determine plagiarism and copyright infringement, you can see this post from a PAC takeover I hosted in April 2022.

PAC doesn't care who has the bigger account and they don't give two shits about clout. They just determine who wrote what, when and then go from there.

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 30

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of afterbirth; Breastfeeding; Newborn bodily functions; Scars and allusions to past child abuse.

A/N: Fuck me sideways, I have struggled to write since all this shit in my personal life. This chapter is pretty boring but I guess there are some fluffy aspects. And Thumper gets a name.

The tiny creature that had just been shrieking in Hershel’s grasp, was now rooting around angrily while you studied every perfect little inch of her. Her skin was pink beneath the drying, waxy mess of vernix caseosa—or whatever Hershel had called it—and blood. The old man had said if he had to guess, he would put her at about six pounds. Hilarious since she felt like she weighed thirty while you carried her. 

Her round little face scrunched up before she wailed again, disturbed from her meal-seeking venture by Carol leaning around Daryl to drape a blanket over her. When you looked up to smile at him, you found the archer studying his baby like he wasn’t quite certain about something. 

“What is it?” You asked, moving the blanket a little so he could see her better. 

“S’just—” He reached toward the bundle but withdrew. “Feels like—feels like she ain’t real.” You could see the tears brimming on his waterline, crystal droplets shining beneath the pale yellow illuminance of the van’s interior overhead light; how he would squint instead of blink in an attempt to keep them from falling. 

“Daryl, you—ow.” You placed your hand on your lower abdomen, finding it tight within a cramp even if the skin itself was slightly looser. 

“Ow?” Daryl appeared panicked but was desperately trying to keep himself together. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It was so odd to see him constantly grappling for control over his emotions when he had always—for the time you’d known him—been so careful not to allow too much to show. 

The veterinarian checked the cord to find it no longer pulsing. The contractions you were having now were mild cramps compared to before, Hershel advising you that you would need to give up your hold on Thumper to deliver the afterbirth. The archer watched as you handed off Thumper to Maggie. You wondered if he even realized why you hadn’t given him a chance to hold his daughter yet. Regardless, it was immediately apparent he hadn’t been listening in the slightest—

“Just an easy push, Y/N.”

“Wait! What?!” Daryl shouted. Meanwhile, you were clenching your fists and bearing down. It wasn’t the worst pain but considering you had just pushed a tiny human out of the same opening, you were a tad bit sore.

“Good, good. I can see it. One more push.” 

Daryl’s hand wrapped around one of your fists. You uncurled your fingers and let his slip between them. “See what?! The fuck she pushin’ again for?” The archer gave no time for anyone to answer that particular question before he was crawling and leaning above the space between your knees—just in time for the placenta to exit your body while you groaned through the discomfort. “What the flyin’ blue fuck s’that?!”

“It’s alright, son.” 

“It’s okay, Daryl.” Carol repeated. 

The archer had gone white again, swaying slightly and swallowing convulsively while scooting back toward you on his ass. You tugged gently on his hand before anyone else could interfere. “Hey, tough guy. Look at her.” God, you were exhausted but keeping your partner grounded was your priority. He had a baby to meet. Daryl’s eyes shifted to you and then behind you to the infant over which Maggie was currently gushing.

“She’s perfect.” The elder Greene daughter chuckled through her own tears. 

The hunter stared at Thumper, the color slowly returning to his skin. “Rick!” He belted out suddenly. “We clear?”

“All clear for now.” The former deputy called back, even though there was little more than five feet separating them.

“Good. Stop.” 

“Stop?” Rick glanced back over his shoulder, once and then again. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Stop the van.” This time Daryl barked the command, growing irritated. He gently extricated his hand from yours, moved toward the door, and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It was obvious he was waiting for the vehicle to come to a halt.

“Daryl, what the hell are you doing?” You queried while trying to divide your attention between him and Thumper being placed back against your skin. The baby began to squeak, working up to another bout of shrill cries before you shifted her, trying your hand at offering up a breast without any guidance. When her tiny mouth latched onto your nipple immediately, you felt a tugging sensation, but no pain like you had actually expected. 

“You’re a natural!” Carol exclaimed through her own tears and sniffles. 

Before you could offer comfort while the other woman was obviously distraught—likely reminiscing of the times just after the birth of Sophia—the van jolted to a stop and Daryl was opening the door, jumping out with his bag and crossbow, and closing it before you could say a word. 

“What’s happening?” You sat up just a little, your eyes wide. “Where’s he going? Rick?”

“Stay still. Relax.” Maggie cooed, dragging a finger tenderly down Thumper’s cheek. “Let her nurse. I’m sure Daryl’s got his reasons.” You nodded even though you weren’t truly satisfied with the answer. You were just simply too exhausted to think about it any further. Carol started handing Maggie blankets to roll up behind you. “We’re gonna getcha all cleaned up and as comfortable as we can until we can find somewhere safer, okay?”

“Just wrap this up until Daryl gets back.” Hershel spoke softly, placing a bloody blob of something onto a large piece of cloth before handing it to Carol. The sac was connected to Thumper by the slimy cord. 

“Do you think he’ll want to?” The other woman whispered. Sight and sound were starting to fizzle out. Your body was demanding rest, all reserves depleted. Thumper was suckling away, making the sweetest little snorting breaths between gulps. Maggie was wiping the sweat from your face and neck, sweeping the fabric back and forth over every inch of skin she could reach.

Hershel and Carol worked together to clean up the mess between your legs, the area swollen and sore and thank god you were so exhausted or that would have really hurt. When you opened your eyes again, you were covered with a blanket and Thumper was gone from your chest. 

“Thumps?!” You bolted upright, caught halfway by Hershel’s gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“She’s fine. You were quite out of it when she finished. Maggie tried to burp her but breastfed newborns don’t always need it. Now she’s there with Carol, getting cleaned up the best we can without warm water. The vernix caseosa can stay on her skin until she can have a good warm bath. It won’t do any harm. We just thought she could do without the other fluids.”

You nodded tiredly. “How long did I sleep?”

“Only about half an hour.” Carol answered, shuffling on her knees with the baby in her arms. “Rick grabbed the diapers from the truck and checked on everyone. She’s such a tiny thing, the newborn size almost swallows her.” She pulled the blanket away to place the baby against your skin and then covered her again with the small receiving blanket. Once Thumper settled, Carol pulled the thicker blanket over both of you. 

You felt your expression light up—casting shadows over your exhaustion—at the sight of that little face. God, she was tiny. The lack of blood revealed wisps of blonde hair, still molded flat in some places by the waxy covering. You could already see so much of Daryl in her that it—

“Where’s Daryl?”

As if summoned by his name on your lips, the van door opened to reveal the archer, clearly shivering. He tossed his bag and crossbow to the side and climbed in, rubbing his hands up and down his sleeved arms. He was clean, his hair wet while the strands appeared damn near frozen. His dirty clothing—vest and poncho included—was missing, likely in his pack. 

“Daryl Dixon, are you trying to end up with pneumonia again?!” Carol admonished. She shoved his bag out of the way quickly and tossed the last larger blanket around his shoulders. 

“C-c-couldn’a held ‘er like I w-w-was, right?” His teeth legitimately chattered, his gaze leaving Carol to look you over. “D-doin’ alright?”

You narrowed your eyes above the ghost of a smile. “Did you really go find a body of water to take a bath in the middle of winter?” 

“W-wouldn’a left ya but w-was d-d-dirty. Wanted t-to—wanna hold ‘er.” Once again, he was pale as milk but there was some color slowly seeping into his cheeks. Hershel wasn’t freaking out over his current state, so—contrary to the pressure threatening to choke you from the inside—you wouldn’t either. Daryl ran his tongue over colorless lips and ducked his head.  “If that’s alr-right?” 

Your mouth fell open, your brow furrowing while you blinked at him. Did he just— “Daryl, she’s your daughter. Of course you can hold her.” You were already moving an arm from beneath Thumper’s miniscule weight. When your hand found his, you pulled back with a hiss. “Maybe just get a little warmer first though, okay?” The archer nodded, but he still looked so uncertain. 

Hershel cleared his throat. He had remained still and silent throughout the exchange but then slowly crept down to sit on his knees at your hip. “In the meantime.” With a gesture toward Carol, he held out his hands. The cloth-clad placenta was placed onto his palms. It had apparently just been traveling around with Thumper wherever she roamed within the van. “Would you like to cut the cord, son?”

Still shivering but teeth no longer clicking together, Daryl’s expression molded into equal parts disgust and confusion. “The hell would I wanna do that?”

“It’s a tradition.” The old man explained. Carol was busy cleaning her knife with some rubbing alcohol. “It marks the start of life outside of the mother, when the father can begin to be physically involved in caring for the baby.”

The hunter brought his left thumb to his mouth, chewing on the side, granting a physical form to his inner anxiety. “Don’t it hurt ‘er?” You were curious as well, and you looked away from your partner to await the answer. 

“There are no nerves in the cord. She won’t feel a thing.”

Daryl drew back when Carol presented him with the knife. He looked to you. You shrugged a shoulder, careful not to jar Thumper. “It’s your decision.”

“Must be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or myself.” Hershel added. 

Lowering his hand from his teeth, Daryl eyed the knife. It was clear that he didn’t believe he wasn’t going to hurt his daughter. His thumb was replaced by his lower lip, jaw inching back and forth to gnaw at it earnestly. Without a word, he reached for the knife. Carol offered him a smile that he unsurprisingly didn’t return. 

“Where do—how does it—”

“I’ll help you.” The veterinarian reassured, balancing the organ on top of one hand while the other lifted the cord. “Right between the tape.” 

“Don’t that leave some’a it?” Daryl’s throat was visibly working as he swallowed. 

“That will dry up and fall off. I’ll show you both how to care for it until that happens.” 

The exhale was audible, undoubtedly something he didn’t intend but also didn’t take notice. Daryl’s hand was shaking, the blade carefully pressed to slice upward and away from the skin of your newborn. You held your breath, afraid any movement or sound would cause her to stir. If Daryl accidentally nicked her, there’d be no consoling him.

The cut was clean and quick, Thumper remaining sound asleep throughout. Your head tipped back against your pillow of blankets, relief flooding through you in a tingling wave that left you once again feeling wrung out. Half an hour was not enough. You wanted to sleep for days. 

Turning your head was a chore, but worth it. Daryl was ignoring everything that was happening below the two of you, his eyes dancing between you and his daughter. “I know.” You whispered. His gaze found yours. “She’s finally here.” He nodded, his lips slightly parted with words he couldn’t seem to articulate. “It’s a lot, Daryl. I know. It’s okay.” 

He was trembling, but you were certain it was no longer from the cold. His entire world had just changed. He was a father, and—judging by the look on his face, the turmoil in his pretty eyes—he was terrified. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” Your question was met with a sharp inhale, his spine straightening. 

“I—” 

You were already shifting the baby, shushing and cooing when she squeaked and stretched in protest. 

“You should bond with her too, Daryl.” Carol was sitting against the interior wall, looking her own personal sort of tired. “If you feel comfortable, um—” She turned her head to look away entirely, staring at the opposite wall. “You should let her lay against your skin.”

Bless him, he looked as though he might hyperventilate. “What if—she might—don’t wanna scare ‘er.” Daryl stared at Thumper, her little head moving back and forth as you offered her to him. You wouldn’t tell him the baby was too little to be scared. That would only leave him wondering if she’d be afraid of him later, when she was older. He was so convinced that his scars would make his daughter fear him. 

That anger you had felt before, the inferno of rage that had boiled beneath your ribs—it was back. Had they been still alive, you would strangle those people that had hurt him, scarred him so deeply. Beyond physical. But they were dead. And you were there. You would do your damnedest to show him a different perspective. That he was good and not a product of his father’s anger or his mother’s absence. That he was loved. 

“She isn’t afraid and she won’t be, not of you.” You vowed, pulling Thumper in against your own chest once more. With a hand then free, you raised the blanket and slid over with a grunt. The pain wasn’t horrible but you were definitely sore. “Get under here with me first.”

Maybe one day, he would be beyond the urge to hide that part of himself. Until then, however, you were more than content to help him find any measure of comfort you could offer. 

Daryl hesitated, giving you a quick once over. “Won’t hurtcha?” 

You smiled, small and tired but genuine. “No. Now get under here. Don’t make me drag you while holding a newborn. You know I can do it.” You challenged playfully. Maybe you could lighten the atmosphere. With a pfft, he took the blanket from your hand and shed the one around his shoulders, his eyes darting over to Hershel and Carol. They had knowingly turned their backs. You almost wished they would leave but having someone knowledgeable there was a comfort you weren’t ready to be without. You had no idea what you were doing. Once he was settled, you did your best to pull up the blanket until he took over. “Unbutton your shirt?”

“Dunno if—”

“She already loves you, Daryl. You were the one to calm her down when she was river dancing on my intestines. Just—try?” He sighed, his fingers slowly working open the buttons before stalling. “If you’re too uncomfortable with it, we’ll fix it, okay? I’ll take her and then you can put her on top of your shirt.”

The deep breath he took trembled but he continued until he could part his shirt enough for his chest to be visible. Even with only your eyes on him, he began to exhibit obvious anxiety. 

“It’s only me.” You whispered while maneuvering Thumper. He could actually hold her later, when there weren’t four of you cramped up in the back of an old van with stow-and-go seats. 

The man looked like he was two seconds from sliding out from beneath the blanket and bolting—until the moment the baby’s skin finally touched his own. His wide eyes drained of any trace of fear to make room for awe. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Watching him closely, those two words were meant to be part of the internal monologue he had going on inside his head. His calloused hands had never looked so gentle, laying across Thumper’s back. He immediately lifted one and placed the other there instead with the previous palm resting on her little diapered bottom.

“She s’posed to be this small?” His voice cracked. You turned onto your side, slowly and stiffly, while he silently let his gaze wander over to watch you move. Wiggling to find a comfortable position, you settled with your head on his shoulder and your fingertips brushing repeatedly over Thumper’s head.

“Hershel said she probably weighs around six pounds.” 

“S’that okay?” His thumb was swiping back and forth through the slightly darker blonde hair on the back of the baby’s head. 

“She’s perfect.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, quietly. His head was tilted, angled to be able to see the little face of the human he helped create. “I, uh—thank you.” You lifted your head to stare him down, quiet yet questioning. “Y’know—for her.”

Your expression softened. Your hand lifted from Thumper to Daryl’s chin, guiding his head to turn. Stifling the grunt of discomfort that moving caused, you shimmied up just enough to press your lips to his. It was chaste but no less passionate. 

“None of that for at least six weeks. Minimum.” Hershel chided from the back of the van. 

Daryl huffed in annoyance, only slightly turning away to bark out “the hell’s ‘er mouth got to do with anythin’?” You laughed in spite of yourself, the action jarring and uncomfortable. 

Hershel even chuckled. “I mean no further, son. No intercourse. She needs to heal.” 

Damnit. You knew at that very moment, it would take you twelve weeks to coerce Daryl into actual sex. God, if your vagina wasn’t ruined after pushing out a whole human. Oh well, you’d be fine as long as he was still yours. You blinked, eyes glazed and thoughts wandering. He would still want you, right?

“Gotta make things weird, old man? Christ.”

Shaking your head, you pushed those worries aside for later. He was now warm and you had your personal space heater back. You molded yourself to his side and willed your body to relax. Daryl was there. Your little family was safe. Sleep laid its claim on you within moments. 

“Claire?” You suggested. Your hand alternated between rubbing and patting the back of the frustrated infant on your shoulder, coaxing out a burp that vibrated your collarbone. Don’t always need it, indeed. While Daryl sat across from you on the bed, rubbing the length of his left index finger across his lips, you adjusted Thumper to the opposite breast. Her little fists were flailing, her face scrunched up and red. The little squeaks and grunts were aplenty as she worked herself up to a squalling cry. “Ssh, here, Thumps.” The moment your nipple rubbed against her cheek, the baby rooted for it eagerly, latching on and suckling with gusto. 

“When she scrunches ‘er face like that, she looks like Merle.” Daryl snorted. His expression didn’t show it but his eyes held a distinct shimmer of sadness. 

“Wanna name her Merle? Merlene? Marleen?” You almost cackled at the look he pulled. “Okay, okay. I said Claire, grumpy gills.”

“Nah.” He sniffed and briefly glanced toward the window. You could hear the van and truck rolling in, hopefully with more supplies. “Makes me think’a that ear piercin’ place in all the malls.”

You thought about people that you had lost. Maybe you could honor them this way. “Andrea?” Daryl snorted. 

“She gonna shoot me when she gets older?” He took a deep breath and balanced his chin on his right palm, elbow pressed into his thigh. “Don’t really feel like she should be a Andrea.”

“Patricia?” You pressed on, stroking Thumper’s cheek with a fingertip. “We could call her Patty?”

“No.”

Your aunt maybe. “My aunt’s name was—actually, no. Nevermind.” This time, it was you that snorted. Daryl shook his head before he turned it back to the window. Thumper had released your nipple, even as her little mouth continued to try and suckle. “Can you burp her while I get all—” you gestured broadly toward your entire self. 

“Sure.” He slid off the mattress and leaned down to take his daughter, so carefully maneuvering her against the front of his shoulder. You kept your sights on him as he moved toward the window, offering the baby a little sunlight. 

You and Daryl slept in the van until the current safe house had been found. No one even woke the archer to help clear it. Probably because Thumps was still lying on his chest. Carol had been the one to wake the two of you, sending you into the bedroom while she heated as much water as she could for you to properly clean up and then to give the baby a warm bath.  Daryl held your daughter while you wiped her down. There was a fire burning in the living room and though you could feel the house slowly warming, neither of you wanted to take any risks. You removed the little knit hat from her head and took care in wiping away the remaining film over her skin. Patting her dry, you replaced the hat and moved on. Each area was bared, cleaned, and covered. You couldn’t help but smile when the archer looked away while you removed the diaper. You made it all the way to her feet before she woke up properly and started trying to suckle Daryl’s thumb.  “Barkin’ up the wrong tree, lil’ one. Gonna hafta talk to your mama if you’re hungry.”

And now here you were, tucking away your tits into a nursing bra while your partner rubbed the back of your perfect daughter by a sunlit window. Thumper was in a light blue sleeper onesie and wrapped in a pink blanket— littered with little birds—to make sure she stayed warm. 

You didn’t hear her burp but had no doubt that she did if he was taking her from his shoulder to the crook of his right arm. From your vantage point you couldn’t see much but you could tell Daryl was talking to her. 

While daddy and daughter were occupied, you laid back on the bed and stretched tired muscles. Your abdomen was still swollen but soft. It was your lady bits that were hot and sore. Forget taking a piss. You had nearly screeched when Daryl had accompanied you earlier, leaving Thumper with Carol. You were bleeding but thank god, Carol had warned you and handed you a couple of pads before you headed out the door. You hadn’t thought anything of it until you were standing over where you had urinated and it looked like a murder scene. 

“Jesus, it’s Nightmare on Elm St in my underwear.” You said as you rounded the tree. Daryl looked unamused.  “Ya gotta be so—graphic? Good lord.”

“Need to hunt soon.” Daryl spoke suddenly from the window. You sat back up with a wince just as he made his way back to you. 

“We have a lot of canned stuff. You don’t need to—”

“Doc said ya need protein to keep makin’ milk for her.” 

You didn’t want him to go anywhere. Logically, you knew it made sense. He was the only other hunter besides yourself. Canned veggies wouldn’t do much towards milk production and of course Daryl had asked about it already. Hershel had been pleased that Thumper was appearing satisfied with the colostrum you were producing, but she would need more even within just the next few days. 

“When?” You tracked him as he lowered to the edge of the mattress just in front of you. The baby’s little hand was curled around his middle finger and you weren’t sure he cared about anything else enough to divert his attention away from his newborn. “Daryl.” You chuckled. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t paying attention. 

“Purple because aliens don’t wear hats.” 

“Mhm.” Had he ever been this distracted? You called his name again amidst a laugh, each syllable bouncing. Finally, he looked up. Straight ahead first, as if forgetting where you were sitting. Then it was over to you. “You say somethin’?” 

“Welcome back.”

He mocked a laugh and then deadpanned. “Funny girl.”

Your smile remained steadfast. “When are you going out to hunt?” 

“Thought I’d leave in the mornin’. Y’know, stick ‘round to help ya tonight an’ make sure ya both’re all good ‘fore I go. Try to bring back all I can so that—” His mouth was still open, but the words stopped altogether. His brow drew inward. “Think this diaper’s toast.”

Oh god. 

The first diaper change.  

“Should I get Carol?” You asked in earnest. You had never changed a diaper before and Daryl had never indicated he had any experience either. Still, he shook his head. 

“Gotta learn sometime, right? Between the two’a us, how hard can it be?”

The answer: really fucking hard. 

“Daryl, you have to look!” 

“Don’t feel right to see ‘er—areas.”

“You’re her father and you’re trying to change her. It’s fine. You’re gonna get it all over your hands if you don’t look.”

“S’it s’posed to be that color?” 

“How the hell should I know? Can you hand me the wipes?” 

“What wipes?”

“You didn’t grab the wipes?”

“No?” 

“Was that a question?” 

“No?”

“Daryl.”

“Y/N.”

“Get the wipes.”

Twenty minutes later, Thumper was snoozing comfortably on the mattress, wrapped snugly in her blanket without a care in the world. You and Daryl, however, were staring at the small creature, appearing every bit as though you were trapped in the flashbacks of war. 

“I don’t think it’s supposed to take that long.” You finally commented. 

“Walker guts don’t even look like that.” Daryl’s voice was just as quiet and monotonous as your own. 

“It didn’t even smell. Shouldn’t it smell bad?”

“You’re complainin’?” 

“Touché.”

When Carol knocked, your heads moved in unison, two sets of wide, troubled eyes landing on the woman in the doorway. Her eyebrows shot upward, lowering slowly as she took in the scene: you and Daryl cross-legged on the mattress. Thumper just a few inches away. Wipes and a rolled up diaper on the floor below the foot of the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing against it to smother the chuckle that tried so hard to break free. 

“You two okay?” She finally asked, clearing her throat. 

“We look okay?” Daryl rasped. 

She struggled against laughter again. “You look like two first time parents discovering one of the joys of a newborn.” 

“We need help.” You were practically pleading, feeling horrible to ask it of the woman who had lost her only child. Daryl’s expression was just as desperate even if he would never grant it a voice. 

“Okay, let’s go over the basics.” Carol shook her head fondly and closed the door behind her. 

Several feedings and diaper changes later, Thumper was asleep between you and Daryl. Night had stolen the sun and a candle burned on the bedside table behind you. She was so far a quiet baby, only crying when she was hungry and would squeak and grunt when her diaper was soiled. 

“Expressing herself in grunts and other noncommittal sounds. She’s totally your kid.” You teased.  “Shuddup.”

Daryl’s hand was on the baby’s stomach, likely just as much for his benefit as hers. He was dozing, making a valiant effort to stay awake with little success. You were just as tired but you couldn’t seem to coerce your eyes away from your partner and daughter. Daryl had been so attentive and tender with you while you carried Thumper but seeing him physically interact with her was an entirely different experience. 

Once again, it was likely something he would internalize but he was absolutely in love. That little thing lying between the two of you had already stolen his whole heart. If you had any doubt of his desire and ability to be her dad,—which you didn’t—that would be long gone now. 

When you weren’t nursing her, she was with Daryl. He talked to her in hushed whispers like sharing secrets he’d never speak to another living soul. And she slept or stared at him while he stared right back. She had the bluest of eyes but Carol said they might not remain that way. 

You hoped they did. 

When she looked at you, you could feel her curiosity and adoration. You were her mother and she knew. She knew your voice, your touch. She knew Daryl. Carol said Thumper could only see in shapes and shades of gray, but you didn’t believe that. Not for a second. They way she would stare at Daryl, her little fingers squeezing the edge of her pink bird blanket. No, you didn’t believe that. 

“Think I gotta name for ‘er.” Daryl spoke suddenly, words rough off his tongue, laced with exhaustion. You smiled. 

“Oh yeah?” You wondered if he was even awake or aware of what he was saying. His eyelids were heavy, flickering open every few seconds. 

“Yeah. S’okay if ya don’t like it. Don’t really make no sense.”

You laughed within a breath, reaching to brush the hair off his forehead. When he didn’t speak for a moment, you found yourself too curious to let it go. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, with an mhm during the exhale. His index finger was gently rubbing back and forth over Thumper’s little hand while she had it fisted into her blanket. 

You almost moved your hand to his shoulder to shake him awake, but refrained. He was—like you—exhausted, and within that state, he was emotionally vulnerable. You almost felt as if you were taking advantage of that, but there was a realization that you wanted him to name her. So, you would wait. Let him sleep or listen when he was ready to tell you. 

“Birdie.” He finally breathed. Without opening his eyes, he moved his finger to tap one of the birds on the blanket. “Birdie Jade.”

You felt the wet tickle of a tear running across the bridge of your nose and wiped it away before it could sting your other eye. Sniffling, you ran your fingers through the hair above Daryl’s ear. His eyes finally opened, clear and sharp, watching, waiting for your reaction. 

You pulled back your hand and laid it on top of his, over the baby’s blanket. 

“Hi, Birdie.”

[athenamikaelson]

Complaints and Harriet Styles Pt. 2

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Warnings- strong language, innuendos, mentions of blood and death.

Word count- 2.5k 

 “Would it make me a bad person if I said he was hot?’ I asked Caroline as I sat in front of her vanity mirror as she curled my hair.  

“Y/n,” Caroline frowned at me as she looked at me through the mirror, “he either killed or is trying to kill our friends. He’s a bad guy, so don’t even think about it.” 

“I’m not saying I want to bang the guy or anything,” As I say that the the thought crosses my mind and it’s clear Caroline knows that as well as her frown deepens, “Care don’t get your Barbie hair in a twist. Even though his accent is dreamy and his blue eyes make my knees shake. I’m not going to try anything, obviously.” I say mockingly as Caroline watches me as if she’s somehow aged 100 years since our conversation began. Which you know isn’t possible because she’s literally immortal. 

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. You’re either arguing with someone or hitting on them. Or even both!” She says as she throws her hands up in emphasis, the curler unplugging itself during her action. 

We both sit there in silence for a moment looking at the curler’s wire. I look up at her with a sly smile, “Does this mean we’re finally done? My ass hurts from sitting here and being your personal doll.” Caroline puts her hand on her hip with a displeased look on her face. 

“I haven’t finished curling the other half of your head, so turn around and shut it. And didn’t you just say I was the Barbie doll?” She says matter-of-factly as she replugs in the curler and waits for it to heat back up. 

“Ok well you are a Barbie doll, I’m more like that doll that Angelica had in Rugrats, y’know the one with fucked up hair and looks like she just got thrown into a blender.” I laugh at my own joke as Caroline rolls her eyes, a smile trying to make its way onto her face. 

I glance at my dark eyeshadow that makes my y/e/c eyes bright. 

“Why do I even have to go to this stupid dance, our school has like 14 a year. How does our town even have the budget for that? And why do we have to do weird decade dances?” 

“Y/N you’re going to homecoming, end of story. It’s our senior year. This past year has been so crazy that we deserve a little normalcy.” She says as she finishes my last section of hair. 

“Normalcy? You do realize that every dance we’ve had since last year has ended with someone dead or impaled right? It isn’t a Mystic Falls high school dance if it doesn’t end in blood!” Caroline just watches me in annoyance as she sprays my hair with hairspray, “accidentally” spraying some into my face.

“Bitch!” I cough out.

“Go get dressed!” She uses her strength to lift me up and push me over to her closet where my y/f/c dress is hanging.

I look over my shoulder, “I hate you.” 

Caroline smiles, “Love you too brat.”

-------------

I listen to the live band as I sip on the disgusting drink in my hand. Caroline who was supposed to chaperone tonight left me to go yell at Tyler for his wolfy crush or whatever on Klaus. I’m seriously debating on just walking myself home, since Caroline was my ride, as I watch on in disgust as teenagers grind against each other to the fast song the band is playing in the backyard of Tyler’s house. Somehow Tyler was able to put together a huge party since the gym was flooded last minute. Caroline didn’t seem suspicious but I on the other hand always think the worst is going to happen at any time, and with my friend group's history with dances I wouldn’t be surprised if something was going to go down tonight. I'm about to grab my bag and leave before shit goes down when I hear a British accent come from behind me. 

“Welcome everyone tonight,” I turn around, and low and behold that British fuck from Senior prank night is standing up on the stage in front of all of us, yapping about something. 

“This is a long time coming,” He says as he watches someone from the crowd with a smirk on his face. I follow his eye line to see Stefan staring back at him. Yikes. I look back to the Brit but find his eyes staring in my direction. I don’t think he’s looking at me until I send a look of disgust at him which makes the smirk on his face deepen. Fuck me. Wait. No. I quickly turn around and start to make my way to the edge of the party hoping to make my escape before I get sucked into whatever bullshit the Scooby gang is going to try to drag me into. I smile to myself as I’m about to be successful in my escape as my vision is blocked by something. Said something bumps me backwards throwing me off balance and I wait to hit the ground as I start falling, but nothing comes. I look up to see Klaus grabbing ahold of the top of my arm, keeping me from falling down.  

“What a fucking cliche,” I say to myself angrily. Klaus looks at me inquisitively. 

“What’s a cliche?” He asks me with that stupidly hot accent as I rip my arm away from his hold and put another foot's distance between us.

“You catching me,” I tell him but he only looks confused, “Y’know in romcoms when the girl trips and falls but doesn’t actually fall because the random hot main guy catches her. It’s a big fucking cliche.” I say huffing as Klaus watches me with that stupid fucking smirk on his face.

“And I’m the main hot guy?” He asks, clearly trying to get me to go along with his current ego trip.

“No, you’re not. Ryan Gosling is the hot main guy or Paul Rudd,” I let out a satisfactory sigh at Paul Rudd, “You’re more of the evil boos villain in video games.” 

“And what’s so wrong with being the villain?” He asks me as he takes a step towards me. 

I look at him with what I can only guess looks like a “are you fucking kidding me” look. 

“Literally everything. That’s literally the whole point of being the villain.” I put my hand out stopping him from stepping closer. Klaus watches me closely for a second too long. His gaze makes me quite uncomfortable because I can’t tell if he wants to kill me for speaking to him like I just did or applaud me for having the balls to. God, sometimes I just need to learn to shut the fuck up. 

“Dance with me.” He states as he puts his hand out waiting for me to give him my hand in return. My gaze goes from his face to his hand multiple times before I shake my head in annoyance. 

“No way dude,” I say as I start to book it back towards the house away from him. I don’t get far though because he’s in front of me again with a determined look on his stupidly hot face. God why does it always have to be the bad guys that are hot? 

“Either you dance with me, or I start killing your friends off one by one. I wonder where that blond friend of yours is, Tyler’s little girlfriend.” He says with a dark glint in his eyes. 

“Why?” I try to hold my ground even though I’m pretty sure I’m about to start pissing myself any second now. 

“Why what?” he asks me as he watches me.

“Why do you want to dance with me? Theirs like 200 other girls here that I’m sure would just jump at the chance to dance with some British guy.”

Klaus just shrugs his shoulder as if he himself doesn’t even have an answer to the question. 

“Because none of them have had the displeasure of catching my eye.” 

“And let me guess, I have?” I ask him. He doesn’t give me an answer though, only reaches out his hand once again waiting for me to take it. Annoyed I slap my hand in his and drag him to the dance floor. Once I push us into the middle of a big group, I turn to him.

“Don’t be pissy if I step on your toes.” Klaus just lets out a huff of a laugh as he drags my body closer to him so my chest is touching his. A shudder goes through my body at the contact and I mentally curse myself for the reaction. Fuck he smells good. Jesus Y/N get a grip, he’s just a guy. A thousand-year-old hot guy, but still just a guy. I look up to find Klaus already staring at me, with a knowing smirk on his face. I just roll my eyes as I try to play it off cool as he sways me to the now slow song.

“So tell me, how did you become friends with my doppelganger and her little group of followers?” A weird feeling of sadness flows through me at his question as I realize he only asked me to dance for information on my friends. 

“We grew up together. Small town like this everyone knows each other, sadly.” I say looking off to the distance and watching the other couples converse lovingly with one another. 

“Why sadly?” He asks me, and for a second I could’ve sworn I heard actual curiosity. I glance back at him and shrug. 

“I just hate this town. I never liked people knowing my business, and everyone here is so complacent with their normal lives. They never question anything or want to know more about anything other than what happens in our weird ass town.” I blush as I realize I just rambled on to a complete psycho about my feelings. But, the look on Klaus’s face isn’t one of annoyance or humor like the other people I’ve vented to usually have on their faces. His face turns from contemplation to understanding. 

“I know what you mean,” He says as he expertly twirls me around, “when I was a boy I grew up in a small village where the wasn’t much chance for prospering. I loved the arts and knew I would never be able to do anything with it. It made me angry. So I can understand your resentment.” He tells me and for a second I forget that he’s the blood-thirsty monster ruining my friend’s lives. 

“You like art?” He looks down at me with a soft smile as if the subject brings out a different side of him. 

“I’ve loved it for over a thousand years. The way emotions can be shown through a canvas and bring out emotion so foreign is unlike anything else I found over a millennium of living,” His eyes trail down to mine, “What do you think?” 

I nod softly in agreement, “I love art. Not really painting because I’m kind of shit at it, but sketching and just looking at art. Although I’m not a fan of this new-age art where someone can splash a canvas with a line of color and sell it for a million dollars. I like art that means something to someone. Art that when you look at it you can feel the emotions that the artist was feeling, every move of the brush stroke made with heart and emotion.” Klaus nods along to my rambling again with a soft look on his face. A look that I can’t quite decipher since it’s on the face of one of the scariest men in the world. 

As the song comes to an end I reluctantly let go of Klaus’s hands. He stares at me for a moment and I think he’s just going to turn around and walk off realizing he didn’t get the information he wanted but then a small laugh escapes his lips and he shakes his head. I watch on in slight confusion wondering if he’s having some kind of stroke or something. 

“You’re not like them you know,” he must notice my confusion because he continues, “like your friends. You’re nothing like them.” I pang of hurt pierces my chest as I turn away and start to walk off, “Well screw you too.” 

“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” He says hastily as he grabs my arm turning me back towards him, “You’re friends they’re small-minded. They think of only themselves and not the world around them, or how amazing it can be.” I go to interrupt him and tell him not to insult my friends but he cuts me off. 

“You need something bigger than this little town. Something that brings you life. When I originally saw you that night in the gym I thought you were just going to be like the rest of them. But you surprised me Y/n, and not many people can say that.” 

I just stare at him in amazement for what seems like forever as I try to piece together everything he just told me. In my stupor though a woman approaches Klaus and whispers something to him which makes his originally light demeanor change to something dark. The woman walks away as Klaus looks at me once more.

“Whenever you decide you want to be a part of something bigger, see something other than this little town I’d be happy to show you. All you need to do is ask.” He tells me as he grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I still can't get the balls to say anything as he gives me one last glance before he follows behind the woman. 

What the actual fuck.

-------------

I walked up to my front porch after getting dropped off by Matt because I guess Tyler drugged Caroline with vervain to save her from a pack of mind-controlled hybrids so that’s why she couldn’t bring me home. Sometimes I really hate my friend group. Why can’t for once we deal with normal people's problems like pop quizzes or acne? Like why does not one person in that entire group have a pimple on their skin? That’s the most supernatural thing going on here.

I’m about to open my front door when a small envelope catches my eye at the bottom of my feet. I look over my shoulder and only see Matt as he waits for me to enter my house. I wave to him with the envelope in hand and walk inside my house. I hastily open the envelope and pull out a piece of thick canvas paper. The paper is covered with a beautiful sketch of what appears to be an open field covered in flowers with grazing horses in the distance. Being so engrossed in the sketch I didn't notice the small note on the back. 

“There’s a whole world out there just waiting for you to experience, love. When you’re ready to experience it, I’ll be waiting.” – Klaus

Taglist-

@grac3aph3lion @megmcc2003 @kollover24 @nameunknownsthings

[roboticchibitan]

I remember when same sex marriage was legized in my state (3 years before obergefel vs Hodges which legalized it nationwide). It won by a very narrow margin.

People who had taken care of me when I was young, people who were like second parents to me, (along with half the other people I knew) were saying it was the end times because I could now get married. And I couldn't help but wonder... would those people have protected me, cared for me, let me play with their children, if they had known I would grow up to be queer?

I came out in 2011. I was lucky. My parents were accepting. My mom was clearly uncomfortable at first but she made it clear she loved me no matter what.

Except.

My dad didn't care if I was queer and assured me that didn't mean there was anything wrong with me (in a speech I didn't need to hear but I think he needed to say). But he still said "that's gay" and "that's faggy" anytime my little brother showed vulnerability.

And I was a lucky one. My father used homophobic slurs around me regularly. He turned the word gay into a slur with his homophobic mouth. And I was a lucky one.

When I came out publicly, my grandmother stopped speaking to me for a while. I'm lucky that she changed her mind. I'm lucky that my grandparents let me bring my girlfriend with me when I went to visit them in October. October of 2022 and I still consider myself lucky that my grandparents let my queer partner into their house. My other grandma likewise visited with us, and was polite and friendly, but she still refused to call my gf anything other than "your friend." Still lucky. Incredibly lucky.

People don't understand just how bad things were as much as ten years ago. When I came out at school, I was lucky. No one bullied me. No one shoved me into lockers or called me slurs. They all just stopped talking to me. I became invisible. I went to a small school. I was the only person who was out. Exactly one person talked to me the rest of the year. And I was a lucky one.

When I was in middle and highschool, the go to insult was "that's gay." I heard it constantly. Every day. Sometimes people said it to me to insult me, long before I even knew I was queer.

I was lucky because the worst that happened to me was social isolation and people using slurs around me or turning my identity into a slur. No one called ME faggy. No one beat me up behind the school bleachers. I was incredibly lucky.

I have experienced the word "gay" used as a slur far more than I ever heard the word "queer" used as a slur. Young "queer is a slur and only a slur" people need to know the world you live in is not the world the rest of us live in. Why is "queer" a slur but "gay" isn't? My homophobic father thought the word "gay" conveyed just as much offense and disgust as the word "faggot." So why is queer the horrible word that can never be reclaimed but people say "that's gay" as a compliment now? The loneliest I have ever felt was in a room full of teenagers who thought my identity was the height of insults. So why is gay fine but queer isn't?

I am a fat butch queer and I do not hide that. My shoes have a pride flag on them. I have a masculine haircut and wear men's clothes. I look queer.

And I am afraid. I dress like this anyway, because I want other queer folks to know I am a safe person. I dress how I do partially because I like it but also partially so any queer person in the room, no matter now closeted, can see me and feel a little bit safer. Because I will protect other queer people with my life if need be.

Because I am openly and visibly queer and live in a world where being queer can get you killed. Because it can. Gay bashings still happen. The alt right are getting bolder in their violence, and that includes homophobic/transphobic violence. There are organizations in the US that are actively pushing to make homosexuality punishable by death in Africa. They know they could never accomplish that here. But they would if they could. People want us dead.

Young people need to understand that. And they need to understand that the people who did the most work to free us from criminalization were queer. They identified as queer. And they weren't the perfect law abiding queers toeing the line of what's acceptible. Because being queer itself was illegal. You could end up on the sex offender registry for being gay. In fact, there are queer people who are STILL registered as sex offenders just because they were queer in 2001. Pride wasn't a permitted parade with wells Fargo floats. It was angry queers illegally marching down the streets, screaming "We're here. We're queer. Get used to it."

Being openly queer is a radical act. It is still a radical act.

I did not live through Windsor vs the united states, the referendum 74 debate, my father punishing my brother for being human with homophobic slurs, and the pearl clutching fearmongering about "the gay agenda" (that was a go to phrase for 2012 homophobes) for some LGBT kid to come at me with TERF bullshit they got off tiktok about how my identity is a slur and I'm a horrible person for using it.

I was a lucky one and I'm still saying "no, absolutely not" to this bullshit.

Queer is more inclusive. Queer accounts for any possible fluidity because people change. Identities change. Queer is there for people who know they're Something Different but are not sure of the details yet. Queer is intentionally vague. When you're young you want everyone to know exactly who you are but as you get older you realize actually my identity is none of your business. In fact, sometimes when you tell someone your identity, you're handing them a bludgeon for them to hurt you with.

If you have trans classmates, you do not understand the world the rest of us grew up in. Trans people were not a public topic. They were not even acknowledged as existing by most people. I didn't know what being trans was until I was like 17. I'm nonbinary now and consider myself trans 10 years later.

And I didn't even have it that bad. But you know what? It still sucked and it was still hard and I can't imagine what it was like to grow up a decade before I did. I had it easy compared to most people.

If you can jokingly say "that's gay" when someone expresses queer love, then you can fucking handle people using the word queer as their identity.

The infighting and policing each other has to stop. You're oppressing queer people with this bullshit. It does not matter what words queer people use to describe themselves when there are people actively killing us. What are you doing? For fucks sake look at the bigger picture. Direct all that rage at our oppressors and the people who mean us harm. Queer people and he/him lesbians and bi lesbians and people who use neo pronouns and whoever else is the discourse of the day do not deserve this kind of treatment. Punch a homophobe and maybe you'll feel better.

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason part 4

Summary: Both of your national teammates find out your little secret, you both get a little scare and Alexia has some making up to do!

Warnings:⚠️ pregnancy?, mentions of miscarriage (doesn’t actually happen), angst

Masterlist (contains other parts)

~~~~~

You’d hung up the phone almost immediately after dropping the news onto Alexia in a fit of rage. She’d accused you of cheating for fucks sake who wouldn’t be angry. Your phone constantly lit up with notifications beside you, tears that had halted temporarily began flowing again. You were spiralling yet again, your breathing picked up but this time you managed to calm yourself down before you panicked, focusing on the baby and grounding yourself.

For once, you were quite thankful to have your own room in the hotel, it provided you the peace you needed right now. Flipping your phone over, you were met with several messages from your wife.

“Lo siento bebita, please talk to me”

“I’m an idiot I’m so sorry let me know you’re ok”

“I didn’t know amor answer me por favor”

Tear tracks stained your cheeks as you wandered out of your room, needing to clear your head. Now that your wife knew about the pregnancy, you were much less concerned with subtly (that much was clear in the way you wandered out of your room looking worse for wear). You trudged along and reached the elevator, pushing the button to take you to the hotel’s communal area.

Upon reaching it, you were met with the presence of several of your national team mates, strewn around in various places. Georgia and Leah were currently in an intense game of FIFA, Lucy and Millie were laughing at something on Lucy’s phone. Alessia was sat next to Ella and Mary on the large sofa.

As you took it all in, you met Alessia’s eyes and saw the look of pity they contained.

“ah look what the cat dragged in” jeered Mary loudly, catching the attention of your other teammates. “Wait are you alright lovey?” She asked worry clear in her tone.

“Yes sorry” you laughed wiping your eyes “just a little personal trouble” you offered

“hmm you’ve had an awful lot of that lately y/n are you sure you’re ok?” questioned Leah, trying to maintain a stern, captainly tone but failing miserable as her concern shined through the facade.

“Yes it’s just something to do with my relationship that’s all” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, especially not after the heated conversation you’d had with your wife who was still blowing up your phone with apologies and phone calls.

“Oh shit y/n I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be pushy” grimaced Leah

“It’s alright you’re captain it’s your job, plus it’s nice that you care” you answered

“Of course I care y/n we all do, you’ve been so down lately and we’ve not known what it was” she replied, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Yeah you literally turned down my secret chocolates the other day” bellowed Georgia

“What secret chocolates?” Asked Leah with a raised eyebrow

“Erm nothing” cowered Georgia

“Sorry guys I didn’t mean to make you worried it’s just…” you trailed off pondering to yourself. Telling them would run the risk of it getting out somehow, not that you didn’t trust your teammates but it was more that staff would over here and spread it to the wrong person. Although, if you swore them to secrecy what’s the worst that could happen? Rumours regularly circulated about you, specifically yours and Alexia’s relationship. Not long ago someone had started a crazy rumour that the two of you had gotten a divorce and that you were moving to Arsenal.

“Earth to y/n” said Leah as she waved a hand in your face.

“Sorry my mind wandered” you apologised

“It’s alright, what were you saying?” Leah asked, a curious expression on her face.

“I’m pregnant!” you blurted without a second thought.

“WHAT?!” Shouted Leah

“You’re pregnant???” added Lucy

“How does that even work?” Asked Ella with a puzzled look

“Yeah I’m pregnant it’s Alexia’s obviously and it’s ivf Ella that’s how that works” you stated bluntly.

“La Reina knocked you up chica” laughed Lucy, earning her a smack on the head from Leah.

“Congratulations y/n! Aren’t you happy?” Asked your captain

“Yes but it’s just causing a bit of an argument at the moment” you replied staring at the phone in your hand, thinking of your earlier phone call.

“Oh I’m sorry darling, but hey it’s something to celebrate with some good food!” Leah announced, signalling to the team that dinner was ready in the dining area.

——

You sat down at the long table amongst your teammates and staff members, Lucy having piled pasta onto your plate after seeing you put a small roll of plain bread and butter.

“You’re eating for two now chica, have to protect putellas’ precious cargo now don’t we” claimed Lucy which earned her a large sigh from you.

You were next to Keira and Leah at the table with Lucy and Mary sat opposite you. Bile had settled in your upper stomach and was threatening to enter your mouth if you attempted to eat anything more. Morning sickness had somehow become ‘every hour of the day sickness’. This realisation had you pushing the pasta around your plate aimlessly with a fork.

“you alright? you’ve barely touched your food” questioned Keira from beside you, alerting the attention of Leah.

“Yeah just feel a bit sick that’s all, the baby won’t let me keep anything down” you said with a half smile

“Try this” said Leah, offering you some plain pasta as a pose to your tomato covered portion. You accepted gratefully as she halved her portion and scraped it onto your plate.

Your stomach already settled at the lack of smell that the pasta possessed. Taking a bite you were nervous, eyes already scanning for the nearest bin.

“Better?” questioned the blonde

“Much better actually, thanks Leah” you smiled, your stomach having settled.

“You sure that the baby is Alexia’s and not Leah’s” joked Mary with a laugh

“Oh God don’t even joke about that I’m surprised Alexia didn’t accuse me of somehow getting pregnant by Alessia” you snarked back.

“So that’s why she was being all weird when she phoned me” chimed Lucy

“Oh no what did she say to you?” You sighed

“She just sounded pissed and was asking after you and then I told her about our conversation earlier and how you were being weird. Then I just mentioned Alessia coming to speak to you so she swore about it and practically hung up instantly” finished Lucy

“Yeah she’s a tad dramatic” you laughed awkwardly.

“She just loves you a lot” added Keira “but I don’t disagree, she’s pretty intense” chuckled the midfielder.

——

You hadn’t spoken to Alexia since the other day, something she hadn’t taken very well. She’d opted to call Lucy and Keira multiple times when she realised you weren’t going to pick up or answer her texts. She’d also not so subtly taken to stalking the lionesses socials, fans picking up on her recent following of them on TikTok, an app she almost never used.

She had tried to leave camp to watch you play Denmark, begging the coaches after Spain’s 5-0 win over Zambia. Unsurprisingly she was met with a hard no and a scolding that saw her spending rest day in the gym with her trainer.

Luckily, training finished just before the second half, meaning Alexia could catch it on the Tv. She practically raced to the showers, before getting ready at record speed and heading team room to the large tv to put on the game. She made it there just for the second half, checking her phone and realising that you were winning 1-0 and had played the whole match so far.

She watched intently, thankful that most of the play was in Denmark’s half and anything you had to do was little more than basic passes at the back.

It was around the 60th minute when the rest of the team joined her, Athenea and Ona moaning at her for hogging the big screen.

“Alexiaaa please can’t you watch this on your iPad?” Begged Athenea

“No” said Alexia sternly

“She’s just watching out potential future opponents” offered Irene weakly

“Nah Ale just wants to watch her girl play” insisted Aitana with a giggle

Alexia’s eyes were fixed on the screen as she stared at you anytime you were on screen. Irene and Jenni were in the corner watching her, discussing whether or not they should be worried.

“She does this often though she’s always studying games she’s obsessed” claimed Jenni

“True but she’s not even watching the game she’s just watching Y/n” replied Irene

“True maybe she’s just super in love it’s kind of cute”

“She looks stressed Jenni, like she’s going to throw up anytime y/n gets the ball I don’t understand”

Alexia’s breath hitched as Pernille harder made a break straight down the middle, heading in your direction. You ran to meet her and time seemed to slow for Alexia as she watched you extend yourself to slide tackle Pernille, the ball ending up back in possession of your team, Pernille landing in a crumpled heap on top of you.

Whilst watching this happen, Alexia let out some sort of unprecedented squeak which gained the attention of her teammates as they shifted themselves to watch the screen. You didn’t get up immediately, Jenni and Irene watching as Alexia drew blood on her hands from digging her nails so hard into her palms.

“Ay dios mio why isn’t she getting up?” Questioned Aitana which caused Alexia to somehow dig her nails even further, the vein in her forehead looked ready to burst from the stress.

They all watched intently, breathing a sigh of relief when Pernille got up and extended a hand to you as you slowly got to your feet. Your shirt had ridden up in the process, Alexia could’ve sworn she could see the early formation of a bump on your lower stomach, something that would be completely unnoticeable unless you were looking for one.

“Alexia are you ok?” asked Misa from her position next to her on the sofa.

Without realising it, Alexia had allowed some tears to roll down her cheek in relief that you and her child were likely fine.

“No I’m not” she replied much to the surprise of everyone. Normally the captain refrained from showing any sort of emotion, especially over something as simple as a risky tackle that her wife made almost every day.

“Alexia what’s going on you don’t normally react like this is everything ok with you? With y/n?” Asked Jenni

“No she’s pregnant and stubborn” stated Alexia as though that were the most mundane statement in the world.

“SORRY WHAT?!” shouted Jenni as the rest of the team jeered in surprise as well.

“Yeah she won’t talk to me either she’s mad at me” said Alexia

“Well I’d be pretty mad if you knocked me up when i was the World Cup squad for my country” stated Jenni sarcastically, earning giggles from the younger girls

“Why’s she mad at you Alexia?” Asked Irene in her mothering tone

“I accused her of cheating, shouted at her and then she said she was pregnant and I told her she shouldn’t play but she’s stubborn”

“Well I can see why she’s mad at you” added Aitana

“I’ve tried talking to her since but she just ignores me, Lucy and Keira said she’s doing fine but she’s refusing to tell their manager too. It’s like she’s pretending it’s not even real”

“She’s stressed Alexia, maybe start asking the right questions and not being angry at her, see it from her perspective” suggested Irene

“She won’t talk to me though”

“I’m going to phone Mary and ask her to put Y/n on the phone for you when the match is over” said Ona

“Ok Gracias Ona” replied alexia

——

The final whistle had gone just over 20 minutes ago, England winning, so Ona took to dialling the her ex-teammate.

“Hi Mary, can you go get y/n please. It’s for Alexia not me” scoffed Ona. “Yes I know she’s mad at her, Alexia is trying to make it better, yes she’s told me the news”

Ona could hear muttering and rustling in the background which resulted in her being met with your voice. She handed her phone to Alexia whose skin had paled significantly. Irene and Jenni took to ushering the team out of the room to give Alexia some privacy.

“Hello?” You called into the phone

“Hola bebita please don’t hang up give me a chance” pleaded Alexia

“Fine what is it Alexia”

“I’m so sorry amor for everything, for how I reacted and for jumping to stupid conclusions about Alessia. I just got jealous of how she made you so happy and I was miserable without you”

“I would never cheat on you Alexia I love you, only you!” You insisted

“I know that bebita I’m just stupid and immature and I’m sorry that I haven’t supported you properly about the pregnancy and that you felt you couldn’t tell me immediately because of what I’d say about playing”

“You would’ve forced me not to play Ale. I need to play because if I’m having the baby I’ll be out for a bit and I might not be as good when I come back so I might not make it to another whilst I’m at a good age”

“Is that what you’re worried about? You’re an amazing player y/n and you’re only 25 you’ve got so much time left”

“What I’m not good enough then Ale”

She couldn’t help but smile at the nickname, a symbol that you had began to forgive her.

“You will be I promise you will be and if not I’ll bribe fifa and you can play for Spain with me”

“Ale I’m being serious”

“So am I Bebé I have a lot of spare cash”

You laughed down the phone at the idiocy of your wife.

“I’m sorry too Alexia, I should’ve given you a chance to explain, the hormones are making me crazy at the moment”

“It’s ok amor I was stupid and I’m so sorry for that I just love you and pequeña and want to keep you safe. I watched your match and I think I had a heart attack when I saw you go down for the challenge”

“It scared me too, maybe I’m dramatic but I went to the toilet afterwards to check my underwear for any bleeding”

Alexia drew a breath at your words, fighting the urge to shout at you for being irresponsible and playing whilst pregnant. However, she withdrew and decided to offer comfort instead.

“I’m sorry y/n/n that must have been scary. I know I don’t like the fact that you’re going to play until the end but I understand why you want to and I know you’ll play without my blessing anyways but please just ask for a substitution next time you feel even a little bit scared”

“Of course I will mi amor I know you’re just protective of me and bebé and I love you for it but we’ll be ok. I promise after the World Cup finishes, I won’t play matches I’ll just train and we can tell Jona to shorten my exercise plan” you insisted

“Okay that sound good to me, I love you so much y/n and mi princesa”

“It could be a boy Ale” you laughed

“It could be but I have a feeling, call it ‘instinto maternal’”

“Ok bebita if you say so, te amo mucho”

“te quiero más, both of you” she replied

You hung up the phone with a smile, feeling instant relief wash over you as you’d made up with the mother of your child.

Placing a hand on your mostly flat stomach you whispered “I love you baby and so does Mama even if she’s a little bit overprotective sometimes”

Thank you for reading, Part 5 coming soon please leave any feedback in the comments or anything in the asks box! ❤️