#what else are you supposed to do with a child

[woso-dreamzzz]

Camp

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first time at camp

The first time you go to Sweden Camp, you're still a baby.

You don't even remember it but Magda does.

Magda knows it as the day that she was no longer the favourite Eriksson in camp. It doesn't really matter that she was the only Eriksson in the team but after your arrival, she might as well have been a ghost because everyone was just so enamoured with you.

"Where is she?" Frido demands when Magda turns up on the first day of camp babyless.

"With Pernille," Magda says," She'll come in a few days. It's not easy to travel with a baby, you know."

Frido waves a hand dismissively. "But they'll be here soon, right?"

"You know they're only here for a few hours, right? They're not staying."

Frido doesn't seem to hear her or at least doesn't acknowledge Magda's said anything because she goes off to do something else while Magda stays frozen in confusion in the lobby.

Pernille arrives a few days after camp begins and a day before the match.

The team are out practising on the pitch, running through passing drills. No one notices her there for a long while until Magda does a bad pass to Frido and the ball goes flying.

Frido turns around to retrieve it and immediately sprints off in the opposite direction. It leads to a few people following her gaze and breaking off into sprints of their own.

Tragically, Magda is one of the last to notice your arrival and is kept at the back of the throng of Swedish players that now encircle you and Pernille.

She forces her way through viciously until she pops out just as Pernille transfers you to Frido's arms.

You're still tiny but are old enough now to have enough strength to support your own head so you happily sit in Frido's arms as she coos at you softly.

You giggle, reaching a hand out to smack against her nose.

"Oh!" Frido says with a little laugh," Did you get my nose? Is that my nose? I think it is!"

Ordinarily, Magda would tease Frido for how high-pitched her voice has gotten in your company but then she'd be open to being called a hypocrite because Magda's voice does the same.

"Look at you," Zećira coos," Those are good reflexes." She nudges Magda teasingly. "I'm thinking Operation Mušović for baby Eriksson?"

Magda shoves her back. "It will be a cold day in hell when you turn my baby into the second version of you."

"It doesn't matter what position she plays," Caroline says decisively as the crowd parts for their captain," Because this little lady-" She takes you from Frido. "-Is the future captain of Sweden."

Pernille, who has mostly been ignored, sighs. "Or Denmark. She's my child too, you know."

"I suppose we could lend you her," Caroline says diplomatically," Denmark youth player, Sweden captain."

"I'll settle for it the opposite way around," Pernille replies but she's waved off as Caroline presents you to the rest of the team.

"You better watch out," Caroline says," Because we might have a new Eriksson in our defensive line."

"A Harder in your offence more like," Pernille says but, like Magda, she's mostly ignored.

Neither can do much as the team passes you around like something sacred. Everyone takes the time to coo and play with you before you're moved onto the next person.

The plan was for you to be introduced to the team for a few hours but be gone by dinner. Somehow though, you've taking your bottle in the middle of the dining hall.

Even more strangely, Magda is not the one doing it.

It had been a little difficult to get you to take a bottle after months of just Pernille's breast but Magda's glad she's got the opportunity to feed you as well.

She just wishes it didn't mean that other people can feed you now too.

Right now, it's Frido and Magda should have known that she would do this. She just adores you and hoarding your time is her game plan at home as well so it's no wonder she's doing the same at camp too.

"No," Magda says as Olivia appears by the table," Don't you dare."

"Magda," Pernille says," It's sweet."

Magda ignores her, pointing at Olivia in warning. "No! I told you guys no!"

"Everyone put into a pot," Olivia says," It's a collective gift. You can't say no."

"You know what? Yes, yes I can. No! You're spoiling her!"

"She's a baby," Olivia insists," She deserves to be spoiled!"

Magda can agree with that. You do deserve to be spoiled but there's a difference between getting spoiled and whatever Olivia's got in the four bags in her arms.

"No!" Magda insists," It's too much!"

"Not enough," Frido says," I was going to get her more but Caroline put a cap on the amount of money someone could put in the pot."

"Frido!"

"What? Didn't you listen? I didn't get her as much as I wanted to!"

Magda goes to retort back but a hand on her arm from Pernille makes her fall silent.

"Thank you, girls," Pernille says, taking the bags," I hope she gets lots of use out of what you've bought her."

[anarchy-and-piglins]

After a mere half hour spent in the same room as these people, Philza has already been reminded of why he doesn't normally answer a summons.

The constant staring annoys him to no end. He supposes it's to be expected, what with his country's reputation for being a complete enigma. The Antarctic Empire is one of the lucky few nations that operates entirely self-sufficiently, producing all their own resources. They do not trade with other countries often. In fact, the mountain ranges that border the very south of their peninsula do not offer any convenient trading routes to begin with. And since that same treacherous terrain also cuts the empire off from the continent in such a way that passing through becomes a challenge in wilderness survival, they're mostly left to their devices. Some folks still believe Phil's nation is a myth, a story conjured up by fairytales.

So Phil coming all the way out here for Dante's attempt at diplomacy must be quite the sight. Most people will die without ever having seen the king of the Antarctic Empire, no wonder they have a hard time looking away.

That won't stop Phil from getting some satisfaction every time one of these pompous nobles cowers if he so much as flexes his wings and turns toward them. He's currently locked in a bit of a staring contest with a man across the room. Phil doesn't know if he's another royal or random noble, but he does know he can't stand the look on this fucking guy's face.

At one point the man smiles more broadly, as if pleased that Phil caught him staring. He bows his head a bit, with Phil half-heartedly returning the courtesy, tucking in his wings to keep them from flaring automatically with the gesture. However, this leaves Phil's elbow to bump into somebody trying to slide past him.

Phil didn't expect anybody to be there, the entire crowd had been giving him a pretty wide berth all evening. He's even more surprised when he sees it's a child, maybe ten or eleven years old. His fancy clothes and intricately braided pink hair with golden jewelry betray him as a prince.

"Sorry," Phil says. He reaches out to steady the boy, but the kid flinches and steps back at his attempted touch, pulling his sleeves up over his wrists. "I didn't see you there, are you okay?"

The boy looks up at him and instead of answering, his blue eyes widen a bit. "You're the emperor of the Antarctic Empire," he says. The statement is delivered in a deceptively neutral tone, especially for somebody of such a young age. Phil is used to more dramatic reactions.

"I am. Call me Phil. What's your name?" Phil smiles gently at the boy. He always had a soft spot for children.

Again, he doesn't receive an answer. Instead, the boy's gaze moves across him for a moment, pondering. He grins slightly, but it's a strange sort of expression. Almost private. As if nobody else is supposed to see. "You're shorter than I thought you'd be," the boy says. Before Phil can blink or respond, he's disappeared into the crowd.

Phil is very much left completely flabbergasted.

Curiosity ever the greatest motivator for him, Phil walks up to the man who was staring at him earlier. The guy pales three shades at seeing Phil approach him, maybe thinking his rude behavior is getting retribution after all. But Phil couldn't care less about this man anymore.

He wants to know who the boy is.

"The child I was just talking to, do you know who he is?" Phil asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Who- Oh, he's nobody, sir." The way the man blunders and becomes overly formal brings Phil little pleasure. "Prince Techno. From the Blade family."

"From the Blade family? What is he doing so far away from home?"

"He's King Dante's ward." 

Phil glances over to where the man is looking, in the direction of Dante himself. Techno is standing next to the king, head bowed a bit and seeming pretty disgruntled to be there. But when Dante lays his hand almost delicately on the nape of Techno's neck, the boy flinches again and forces a neutral expression on his face.

"You know how the Blade family is," the man says grimly. "Ferocious beasts of war, all of them. It's a wonder Dante has managed to secure an allyship. They even got close enough bonds to leave their son in Dante's care."

Thinking about the summons, about how Dante was a nobody three years ago who since managed to overthrow several small countries by using superior weapons and strategies - those the likes of which only the Blade nation is known for - makes several things click into place. Allyship? It makes sense. A lot of sense.

Then what is the uncomfortable feeling that seems hooked into Phil's gut?

(Maybe it's because of the flinching. Or because of how Techno seems to move around like a ghost. Or because when he pulled up his sleeves, Phil was sure he saw the faded blue and purple of bruises on the boy's pale skin.

The Blade family runs their kingdom in a similar way to the Antarctic Empire. They don't make allies. Only enemies.)

"Are you staying for the peace conference, sir?" the man is brave enough to ask, now that Phil has broken the ice. It's probably a question for many of them. Despite Dante's ruthless way of overtaking other countries, Phil's empire isn't threatened by him. He's only here as a formality. He has no reason to stay, no stakes in this game.

Dante pulls his hand away and it's like Techno can finally breathe again. Phil's eyes meet his for a moment, then the boy looks away.

"I think I'll stick around to see how things unfold," Phil says pleasantly.

[zombiigrll]

LONELY ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1061 ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst to fluff, swearing, depressed/traumatized reader, reader is glenn and maggies adoptive child, intended lowercase, the walking dead 7x1 spoilers, death mentions, lack of eating, suicidal thoughts, use of y/n .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hi! this is my first time writing and posting anything on tumblr so im sorry if its not the best </3 ive never really done oneshots before either so i dont really know what im doing LMAO hope you still enjoy!

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it was supposed to be an easy run. get maggie to the hilltop and get her help, that's all it was supposed to be. but, of course, nothing could ever be that easy. not for you. the last thing you expected to see, however, was your father-figure getting his skull beaten in, and almost having to witness your boyfriend getting his arm chopped off. you were distressed. you couldn't function properly. you had already lost your family once before at the beginning of the outbreak, and all of those same feelings came back after losing glenn. he had been there for you since the start, saving you from dying with your family. and now he was gone and there was nothing you could do.

you had fallen into a deep depression, similar to the one you had before. you locked yourself in your room, not eating, not drinking, occasionally getting up to use the restroom, but other than that, you were bedridden. you hadn't even changed your clothes from that night. the clothes that were stained in glenns blood. hell, even his blood remained dried across your face. you felt as lonely as ever, but at the same time, you knew you weren't. because every single day you heard knocks at your door. it was carl.

"y/n, please. just open the door. i can help you." he desperately spoke from the other side of the door.

you felt like shit for making him continue to come to your door everyday just for you to stubbornly remain in your room, but it felt like nothing mattered anyways. eventually, he'd give up, right? that's what you thought. "go away." you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. "just open the door. please." he begged again. he understood your struggles. he was aware of why you were acting this way, and he couldn't blame you. he knew how it felt to lose family members and people close to him. unfortunately enough for him, you stayed where you were, not opening the door for him yet again. but after almost a week had passed, he began getting more worried. he begged at your door for you to open it, he tried opening it himself but you had locked the door, blocking it as well so no one could enter. you didn't care. you were isolating yourself, barely sleeping. the only times you slept were when you cried so hard you fell asleep. you felt miserable. you were giving up on everything, hoping one day it'd all just end and you wouldn't have to worry anymore. you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else dying, because you'd be with them. no more funerals, no more fighting for your life... you laid awake on your bed, tears silently falling from your eyes as you stared blankly at your ceiling, those terrible thoughts swirling through your brain. but this night was different. you had opened your window, which carl took as the perfect opportunity. he was tired of not being able to help you due to your stubbornness, so he decided to crawl through your window. *thump!*

you quickly jolted up at the sound, staring at carl who was slowly sitting back up after not-so-gracefully falling into your room. he grabbed his hat and placed it back on top of his head before looking over at you. you stared at him with tears glazing over your eyes, your face scrunching up as you brought a hand to your mouth. "i..." you were speechless. your emotions got the better of you and you began sobbing. he quickly walked over to you, cupping your face with his hands as he looked down at you sympathetically. "don't cry..." he softly spoke, but his eyes quickly noticed the dried blood that was still on your face. "y/n..." "i-i'm s.. sorry." you sobbed, averting your eyes as you crossed your arms around your waist. he shook his head as he softly acknowledged your beat-up appearance, moving your arms from covering your waist as he pulled you in for a big hug. "don't be sorry."

you quickly returned the hug, squeezing him tightly as you sobbed into his chest. he broke from the hug, looking back down at you and your bloodstained clothes. "let's go get you cleaned up, yeah?"

you silently nodded. he helped you stand up and you almost fell over, but he quickly caught you. "...let's get you something to eat, too." ... the two of your were now in the bathroom. he helped you sit down on the seat of the toilet before grabbing a rag, getting it wet before walking back over to you. "this is gonna be really cold." he smiled warmly, slowly bringing the rag up to your face and wiping the blood off. you flinched slightly at the touch. as he's cleaning your face, his face turns a bit perplexed. "why... why didn't you open the door?"

you avert your eyes to the ground as you begin messing with your hands. "i just wanted to be alone, i don't know." carl looks at you with a bit of a somber gaze before continuing to clean you up. "i'm sorry for breaking in. i was worried about you. just... please, don't do that again. if you ever need help, i'm here. you know that, right?" "i know..." you looked up at him. "i didn't want you to see me like this. i..." you began tearing up again as you spoke. he quickly sets the rag down and puts both his hands on your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "i know, i know. it's okay." shortly after, he pulled you in for a quick kiss, his hands remaining on your face as he pulled away. he uses one of his hands to wipe away the stray strands of hair over your face, tucking them behind your ear. "you're so pretty. you know that, right?" he smiled warmly. "i love you." you laughed with a smile, a tear rolling down your cheek. "i love you, too." "let's go get you some new clothes, okay? and some food. i'll make you whatever you want." carl asks, grabbing both your hands. you nod, standing up in sync with him as you followed him back to the room. god, you were so lucky to have him. ─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 21 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - you and Spencer both make decisions you can’t come back from.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - past sexual abuse of a child, swearing, tears, murder, cheating, brief mention of oral (f receiving), vomit, pregnancy symptoms, double crossing, blood, stab wounds, death of a father, bruises, aggression, use of “whore”.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 21 - Miss Mysterious

The clock on the wall chimed twelve times in quick succession, echoing around the otherwise silent room. Spencer sat on the edge of the coffee table, the SIG still pointed at his father, who hadn’t moved from the armchair. 

He didn’t know what he was so hesitant about, he could have easily killed him by now and been out of the house and on his way back to Caesars but something was stopping him. 

Did he want an explanation? And even if he got one, nothing in the world could excuse what his dad had done to him or anyone else. His dad was a sick and twisted person who had abused his own son’s trust and ripped little pieces of his soul away every single time he crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. 

His fathers actions had affected him in more ways than he’d ever even realised. Of course there was the obvious, his building of walls, his inability to get close to people. It had taken until he was twenty six before he was intimate with a woman for the first time. And he’d shut himself in the bathroom afterwards and cried and it was a long time before sex didn’t make him that emotional. 

It had later manifested itself in his dominance in the bedroom. You weren’t the first person he’d treated that way in bed, it had become a pattern for him. He had to take back his power by being in control and never submitting to anyone else in that way again. In doing so he was able to harness his emotions afterwards and not have to indulge in a post-coital sob. 

But there were repercussions from his fathers abuse in which he had never really noticed until now. When he’d finally been pushed over the edge to kill, every single man he had ended the life of was simply a surrogate. Each one was around his father’s age, all violent and evil human beings. Each man was a substitute for the real target of his rage. A rage he hadn’t realised had been building for over thirty years until right now. 

William Reid was Spencer’s ultimate boogeyman, the monster lurking in every shadow. He was Spencer’s Goliath and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to slay him. He just had to focus and not let himself get dragged down this dark rabbit hole. But it may be too late. 

He could still hear the sound of a zipper cutting through his mind in that room that was supposed to be his place of solace. He could see his fathers manic eyes as they loomed over him in the darkness. He could feel those rough hands all over his body and hear his own cries which his father simply ignored.

Daddy, please! You don’t have to do this. 

He felt his hand shaking as he held the gun, hot tears pooling behind his eyes. He sniffed them back, not willing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. He clenched his jaw firmly, grinding his teeth in a furious fashion and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

“You ruined my life.” Spencer croaked, his voice so unlike himself.

“I made you stronger.” William countered, narrowing his eyes on Spencer. “I was teaching you how to be a man.”

“Oh yeah? And how is that?” Spencer’s brows furrowed in angry confusion.

“You were so weak, pathetic, really. You never would have been able to take care of yourself. I was showing you the harsh realities of the world, you needed to learn that to get by in this life you have to be strong, grow a thick skin. I helped you.” William shrugged.

“Helped me?” Spencer spat, hand shaking violently. “You think molesting me helped me?” 

“That’s such an ugly word, Spencer.” William rolled his eyes. “But yes.”

“You’re full of shit.” Spencer jumped to his feet, proffering the SIG closer to his dad. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? That you fucking helped me? What about the other’s? Did you help them too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” William shrugged again. 

“Cut the crap, dad. I know there were other boys. A sexual predator doesn’t just stop unless someone stops him.” 

William slowly pushed himself up with the use of the arms of the chair. He was shorter than Spencer by a few inches, he’d gotten his height from his mother. Thankfully he’d gotten most things from his mom and not this man in front of him. 

“Let’s not talk about the others, Spencer.” William smiled at him. “You were the only one I cared about.” 

“Fuck you.” Spencer sniffed again as his eyes welled with tears once more. “You didn’t care about me. If you cared about me you wouldn’t have done what you did. I’m your son for fuck sake! You were supposed to keep me safe from monsters, not be one.”

“Of course I cared about you. I love you, Spencer.” William raised one arm and moved to stroke the side of Spencer’s face but Spencer quickly slapped him away with his free hand.

William, although frail looking, was fast and managed to grab Spencer by the wrist and circle his fingers around it. He noticed his dad’s eyes cast down to the silver band on his finger before looking back up to meet his eyes. 

“You’re married?” William frowned. 

“Yes.” Spencer tugged his arm free of his dad’s hold. 

“Does she know what you really are?” A smirk tugged at the older man’s lips. 

“She knows I’m a murderer.” Spencer spat, proffering the gun closer again. “I’ve killed multiple men just like you, the scum of the earth who need to pay for their crimes. And she loves me for it. She respects me for it.” 

“And let me guess, it's my fault you turned out this way?” William sighed as if he was bored. 

“Who else's fault would it be?” 

“Your wack job mother, perhaps? How many times did you witness her being violent towards me when you were young?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you didn’t deserve. And seeing my mom lash out from time to time when she didn’t take her meds and having my father sexually abuse me are two very different things!” Spencer raised his voice, spitall flying from his mouth in rage. 

“You got all your worst traits from her, you know?” William kept his cool. “Volatile, over dramatic. It’s a shame you didn’t turn out more like me.” 

“I’ll never be anything like you.” Spencer straightened his back, tried to rein himself in.

“Oh Spencer, you're already so much more like me than you realise.” William chuckled darkly and it made Spencer’s stomach turn. 

“That’s not true.” Spencer shook his head.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” William stepped closer to him and Spencer should have just shot him but he didn’t. He let his father come close to his ear and he closed his eyes when he felt the older man's breath against his face. “I killed Riley Jenkins.” 

Spencer stumbled on his feet, feeling his stomach somersaulting wildly and he briefly worried he might throw up. His father was cackling maniacally at the look on his son's face.

“No, that’s not true.” Spencer lowered the gun without meaning to. 

“The truth is Riley had more guts than you and he was going to tell his father what I did to him. So I had to kill him.” William didn’t show a hint of remorse for his actions, in fact he looked proud of himself. “So if you kill me, you’re only proving my point that you’re just like me.”

“No.” Spencer’s tears wouldn’t stay contained anymore and they started to fall. “No, I’m nothing like you.” 

“Put the gun down and walk away, son. Prove you’re not like me” William smirked at him.

“I…I can’t.” Spencer shook his head frantically. 

“Spencer,” William suddenly turned stern. “Put the gun down and walk away.”

“N-no.” Spencer’s lip quivered.

William exhaled loudly and before Spencer knew what was happening, his father advanced on him, managing to free the gun from Spencer’s hand before Spencer even saw him coming. With his other hand he swiftly punched Spencer in the stomach and when his son doubled over in pain from the blow, he grabbed him by the hair, tugged him one way and then shoved him to the floor. 

Spencer groaned as he hit the carpet but noted the knife hadn’t dislodged from his waistband. His father stood over him, pointing his own gun down at him and looking at him in frustration. 

“I don’t want to kill you, Spencer. But if the choice is between me and you then I will not hesitate in pulling this trigger.” William spat.

Spencer rolled onto his back, making sure the blade stayed concealed from his fathers vision. It was his only way out of this, he needed the element of surprise on his side. He just had to work out how to unsheath it and get one up on his dad before the other man got off a shot. 

“You want to kill me, go ahead.” Spencer shrugged, tears still silently rolling down his cheeks. “You’ve already taken everything from me, I kind of wish you’d killed me when I was a kid so I didn’t have to live with the memories of what you did to me. So just do it. Put me out of my misery.”

William swallowed, lifting his arm a little and aiming the muzzle right at Spencer’s skull. His hands were steady, tightly wrapped around the butt of the SIG and looking like he may well actually shoot Spencer and probably sleep easy afterwards. 

If Spencer didn’t act fast he was as good as dead. But he refused to let it end this way, at the hands of his abuser. He had to formulate a plan and enact it to perfection or he would die on this shitty carpet, in this crappy house and the last thing he would have seen would be the eyes of the man who molested him.

***

At some point you probably should have stopped to think about Spencer but honestly, he was the furthest thing from your mind. Not even your wedding band could distract from the intense pleasure that Jesse was bestowing upon you, quite frankly you could barely remember your own name. 

You’d lost count of how many times you’d imagined what his beard would feel like between your legs and tonight you’d finally been privy to it. The friction from his rough facial hair made the experience even more incredible than any other time you’d ever been eaten out before, and you found yourself grinding against his face to feel more of it.

He made you come with complete ease, as though he wasn’t even trying and when he sat back and wiped his hand over his mouth he was smiling sinfully at you.

“Jesus Christ.” You panted, still slightly writhing on the couch beneath him. 

“That’s half the reason I keep the beard.” He chuckled, laying down on top of you.

“What’s the other half?” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“How good it makes me look.” He kissed you again and you tasted yourself on his lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and using one hand to pop the button on his jeans. You were both still fully dressed, too desperate for each other to think about undressing. But you wanted to see more of him, if this was the last chance you got to be with him, you needed to commit him to memory. 

As if reading your mind, whilst you worked on shimming his pants down to his thighs he made quick work of getting his shirt off. You pulled him back closer to you, nestling him between your legs and your hands starting to graze over the tattoo on his peck.  

But then your stomach suddenly lurched in a way you’d gotten all too used to recently and suddenly you were shoving him away and jumping to your feet. 

Jesse fell back to the couch, staring at the back of your head as you sprinted to the bathroom. He heard the toilet seat being lifted and moments later the sound of you retching reached his ears. 

He pulled a face, tucking himself away as he got to his feet, cautiously following in your tracks. He found you kneeling over the toilet seat, head in the basin while you violently vomited. 

“Are you ok?” He approached you, sitting down on the edge of the bath and stroking your back. 

“Hmm.” You grumbled, sitting back once you expelled yourself and wiping your mouth. “That’s been happening a lot lately. It’s nothing to do with you, I swear.” 

“I should hope not.” He laughed, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You frowned up at him. 

“You’re pregnant right?” He frowned back at you. 

“No?” You shuffled backwards out of his touch. 

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, with the vomiting I just assumed. And I don’t mean this in the completely perverted way it’s going to sound, but I haven’t even seen you shirtless tonight and I can tell your breasts are huge. Bigger than I remember and I remember them pretty well.” 

“I…I don’t even know what to say to that.” You glanced down at your chest where your dress was stained with the drink you’d spilled. 

“Have you had any other signs? Urinating more regularly? Strange cravings or aversions to things?” He asked with a soft smile. 

You felt the colour drain from your face, feeling like you could throw up again. The signs had been there staring you in the face and you’d ignored them. But surely you couldn’t be? 

“I, uh, maybe? No. I don’t know.” You pushed yourself up to your feet. 

“When was the last time you had a period?” Jesse stood as well. 

“Too personal.” You shook your head with a groan. 

“Y/N, come on.” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“I don’t know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “They’ve never been all that reliable and I have been pretty stressed recently. There is no way, I cannot be pregnant.” 

“I should probably go.” Jesse smiled sadly at you. “This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it?”

“It certainly wasn’t a good idea.” You felt your eyes welling with tears although you didn’t know why. “I’m so sorry. I wish he didn’t have this hold over me.” 

“It’s called love, Y/N.” Jesse tucked your hair behind your ear. “You love him and you shouldn’t apologise for that.” 

“Maybe I don’t? I don’t know.” You shook your head. 

“Answer me something,” Jesse folded his arms over his still bare chest. “You killed Mary because she was threatening him.”

“That’s not a question.” 

“No, I know.” He chuckled lightly. “My question is: would you have done that for anyone else? For example, would you have killed her if she was threatening me?” 

“No.” You didn’t hesitate. “No I wouldn’t have.” 

“And that’s because you love him.” Jesse shrugged. 

“But loving him makes me feel like such an idiot.”

“Now you know how I feel.” He smiled wistfully at you. “I really should go before he comes back. How long are you in town for?” 

“Just tonight, I think.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“Far to travel?”

“I’m not falling into that trap.” You smirked at him. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He laughed. “Stay safe, Y/N. And if you are pregnant, good luck. For what it’s worth I think you’d make a great mom.” 

“Did you forget the part where I confessed to murder?” You frowned at him. 

“We all make mistakes.” He started walking backwards towards the door. “Take me for example, I was about to sleep with a married and potentially pregnant woman.” 

You followed him out into the living room and smiled to yourself as you got a great eye full of his ass, even if it was inside his jeans, as he bent down to pick up his shirt. You made sure to commit that to memory. 

You watched him put the shirt back ok, also trying to memorise every one of those tattoos adorned his body. He sidled closer to you again and cupped your face gently in his hands. 

“We can’t keep meeting in bars, Y/N.” He chuckled lightly. “It has to be goodbye this time.” 

“I still think you followed me here.” You teased him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“You wish.” He chuckled, reluctantly letting go of your face. 

He took a few steps backwards towards the suite door and you had to force yourself not to follow him. He gave you a sad half-smile as he exhaled heavily and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor.

“See ya, I guess.” You shrugged, once again wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“That’s you’re parting words to me? See ya, I guess?” He chuckled with a shake of his head. 

“What do you want me to say?” You laughed. 

“What I want you to say and what you can actually say are two very different things.” He rubbed his beard. “So let’s leave it at, see ya, I guess.” 

With that he offered you a wave and reached for the door handle, closing it behind himself. And just like he was gone. 

You stumbled over to the couch and collapsed onto it, your head spinning with the evening's activities. You’d really fucked up this time. Being with Jesse back in Butte was ok because you and Spencer hadn’t really been married. But now you were married and you’d let yourself get caught up in Jesse once more. 

Maybe in a way Spencer deserved it for the way he’d treated you in the past. You’d blindly followed him only for him to treat you like dirt. Sure things had been better lately but you never knew where you stood with him and truthfully, you weren’t sure if you felt safe with him. 

And what the fuck happened if Jesse was right and you were actually pregnant? Bringing a baby into this messed up situation, to be raised by two killers? That didn’t even bear thinking about. 

He had to be wrong. There was no way you could be. You were on the pill…

…fuck. 

You were on the pill. Right up until Spencer had talked you into leaving DC and you’d left your contraceptive behind in your hurry to leave. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

***

Jesse McGill took the elevator down to the ground floor and found a quiet area in the lobby before pulling out his cell phone. He ran his hand over his beard with a large sigh, a wave of emotions crashing down around him. 

He gnawed frantically on his lip as he pulled up the number he’d received a call from yesterday and then held it to his ear. It was answered on the third ring. 

“Did you do it?” The hurried voice came down the line. 

“I did what you asked. I saw her but I didn’t see Spencer and she didn’t say where he was.” Jesse sighed, he didn’t feel good about this at all. 

“Did you ask her about Mary?” 

“Yes.” 

“And?” 

Jesse closed his eyes. He had two options here but he had no idea which was the best one. He could lie and say you wouldn’t tell him anything about what happened to Mary, which wouldn’t be completely unexpected. He could tell the truth, tell them that you confessed to killing her but you wouldn’t give up where the body was buried. 

Or, he could go with option number three. He could tell a combination of the truth and a lie. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place. 

“Well? What did she say?” The voice came again, impatience riddled in their tone. 

“Mary’s dead.” Jesse opened his eyes again, making his decision as he spoke. “Spencer killed her.” 

“Goddamnit. I knew it!” The other man growled, slamming something loudly and causing an echo down the phone. “Did she say anything else?”

“No. She told me the body was buried somewhere it would never be found. Apparently Mary was blackmailing Spencer and he just-”

“I don’t care why he did it.” The man scoffed. “And she didn’t give you any indication of where they’re living or anything like that?” 

“No, I tried, I really tried. But she’s not stupid.” Jesse pushed his back up against the wall, eyes fluttering between people entering and leaving Caesars. 

“You know you did the right thing, Jesse? I know you probably don’t feel good about this, but you did the right thing. It’s not her we want, it’s Spencer. I’ll make sure she’s protected.” 

“I know, but it feels fucking rotten.” Jesse sighed again. “What happens now?”

“That’s not for you to worry about. We’ve got this from here. Get a room for the night, it’s late, catch a flight home tomorrow. Let me know how much they cost and I’ll ensure you get reimbursed.” 

“I don’t care about that.” Jess shook his head. “I liked her and I feel like I’ve betrayed her.” 

“You did the right thing.” The voice repeated. “I promise I only want what’s best for her. And that’s to get her away from Spencer. You’ve been a huge help. Thanks again Jesse.” 

Jesse hated being a part of this, depised that he’d been dragged into this fucked up mess. He’d meant it when he told you he loved you which only made this harder. But they say if you love someone you have to let them go, if they return they were always yours and if they don’t, they never were. 

He knew exactly which one you were. 

“Agent Alvez?” Jesse blurted out. He closed his eyes as if it might somehow relieve his guilt before he spoke again. “There is one more thing you should know…”

***

Spencer leant against the wall in the elevator as it made its ascent, staring at the closed metal doors while he tried to piece his night back together. 

Everything that happened after his dad shoved him to the floor and took his gun was a blur. His stomach ached, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had left him with a nasty bruise. His fist had clipped him right in the steadily healing scar from the knife wound you'd inflicted on him months ago. 

He remembered the pain, he remembered trying to think of a way to free the knife from the back of his pants. But it was like at some point he blacked out because the next thing he knew he was standing over his fathers dead body covered in blood. 

He’d counted forty three stab wounds in his fathers torso, sliced like Swiss cheese and damn near eviscerated. The man who had molested him, his biggest demon was dead. And the most poetically tragic part was that Spencer didn’t remember killing him. 

Maybe the haze would clear and over time he’d be able to piece the events back together. It was possible his brain was trying to protect him from the trauma of recollecting the murder of his father, but if it had safeguarded him from the memories of being eight years old, there wouldn’t have been the need to kill William in the first place. 

He’d cleaned up the crime scene, the messiest one he’d ever had to face due to the amount of blood that wept from those forty three wounds. He put his fathers body in the trunk of the Impala and found a sweater in the backseat which was lucky given the amount of blood on his hoodie. 

He stood in his fathers bathroom and stared at his reflection. His face and neck were splattered in the red sticky substance and his hands were almost entirely covered. He cleaned himself off the best he could and before he knew it he was driving away from the house. 

He stumbled through the lobby of Caesars as if he were drunk, his brain felt that kind of intoxicated haze too. He made it up to his floor and slotted his key in the door. In all honesty, after the events of the night, he completely forgot you’d be there. So when he shoved up the door and found you sitting on the couch in the suite, he had to blink a few times as he tried to piece back moments from earlier in the day. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, taking a few steps towards Spencer, your brows furrowed at his obvious confusion. 

“You ok?” You didn’t come too close, you were wary of him. 

“Uh, yeah.” He swallowed before clearing his throat. “Yeah I think so.” 

“You’ve been gone for hours.” You rolled your lips between your teeth. 

“I have?” He rubbed one of his eyes. 

“Are you drunk?” 

“No, no. Not drunk. Tired, maybe?” He questioned himself. “I should probably…I don’t know, sleep or something.” 

He started in your direction and moved past you and as he did so you caught the familiar smell of blood. That coupled with the tiny red drop you’d noticed on the side of his neck confirmed your theory about where he’d been.

“Did you get your phone?” You asked as he passed you. 

He turned back to you, squinting a little, clearly confused. 

“Uh…” he swallowed again. “Sure.” 

“Spencer?” You folded your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Who’d you kill?” 

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. He should have known you’d see right through him. 

“No one. It’s nothing.” He mumbled, opening his eyes again. 

“You have blood on your neck. And I’m pretty certain if you took your sweater off your shirt would be covered in blood.” You took another step forward. “Who’d you kill?” 

He sighed over dramatically, by way of telling you he didn’t want to be having this conversation. He rubbed his eyes, subsequently helping to clear the daze he’d been in and looked at you curiously, as though it was his first time seeing you. You noticed his eyes flick to your bicep and you followed his gaze, only then realising your mistake. 

You involuntarily raised your other hand and placed it over the flashing beacon that had been left behind on your arm, a symbol of your infidelity. 

“What have you done to your arm?” He grinded his teeth, loud enough that you could hear it. 

“I must have, uh, walked into something I guess.” 

“No. Nuh uh.” He shook his head, advancing on you and roughly tugging your hand away from the array of bruises around your bicep. “Try again.” 

“I don’t know where they came from.” You whimpered. 

“You’re lying.” He spat. “I’ve left enough bruises on you to know they are from someone’s fingers.” 

He wrapped his own hand around your arm just lower than where the red mark was adorned on your skin. 

“I guess you must have done it then. We did have sex earlier.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t me. Who the fuck did this to you?” 

“N-no one.” You chewed heavily on your lip, teeth digging deeply into the flesh. 

“No one? So you’re just magically producing bruises?” He snarled at you. 

“No.” You pouted. “Stop changing the subject. Who’s blood is on you?” 

“Who gave you these bruises?” He countered, still holding your arm. 

“Who did you kill?”

“Who hurt you?” 

You were at a stalemate, glaring at each other wildly, neither one of you wanting to admit the truth to the other. You’d rather he hurt you than admit that you’d cheated on him. And he’d rather die than tell you about what his father had done to him.

He suddenly let go of your arm and huffed loudly, stepping backwards and raking his fingers through his hair. 

“What are you keeping from me?” He mumbled as if talking to himself. 

“We all have secrets, Spencer.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You more so than anyone. So you don’t get to be angry at me if I choose not to tell you everything.” 

He glared at you, rage filled eyes scrutinising you in a way he’d never looked at you both. 

“Who the fuck even are you?” He shook his head. “I don’t even recognise what you’ve become.” 

“Me?” You spat. “Whatever I’ve become you turned me into!” 

“I made you!” He growled. “And this is how you repay me? Lying to me and keeping secrets?” 

“What can I say? I learnt from the best!” Your anger rose rapidly. “I should have known you were lying to me tonight. You butter me up with up sex and leave me here alone while you go out and kill even though I’ve proven to you time and time again that you can trust me! So yeah I went downstairs to the bar and I thought, hey, if my husband doesn’t want to spend time with me, maybe someone else will.” 

“You did what?” He snapped, suddenly grabbing you roughly by both arms and pushing you back against the nearest wall. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“What if I did?” You snarled, refusing to show your fear. “What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Who was he? I’ll fucking kill him!” He slammed you into the wall. 

“You’ll do no such thing.” 

“I cant fucking believe you! How could you do that to me? I married you! And now you’re picking up random men in bars? Have some self respect!” He was really close to your face and the metallic smell was overwhelming. 

“Since day one in this relationship you have done whatever you want to do and not given me a second thought. Why should I give your feelings any consideration when you give mine none? You just hate that I’ve grown a fucking back bone!” You fought against him but he was stronger.

“You think cheating on your husband is the same as my trying to protect you from what I’m doing?” 

“Project me? Oh please.” You scoffed. “I have killed three people Spencer, I don’t need protecting.” 

“Who was he?” He asked again, slamming you into the wall once more. “Or did you even stop to get his name before you spread your legs for him?” 

“Fuck you!” You screamed in his face.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you little whore. What kind of man fucks a married woman? A married woman he just picked up in a bar who he doesn’t even know? It actually says more about the man himself than you.”

“Fuck you!” You repeated, louder this time. “Jesse is twice the man you’ll ever be!” 

It was a complete slip of the tongue. You didn’t think you meant to implicate Jesse in that way but your rage had taken over. 

Spencer suddenly softened and his hands fell from your arms to his sides and he stumbled backwards like you’d punched him in the gut. He blinked at you as you kept yourself pressed against the wall.

“Jesse?” He croaked. “As in that fucking mountain man? He was here? You and him…? You really know how to fucking hurt me, don’t you?” 

He fell back to the couch and put his head in his hands. He thought you loved him, he thought he knew you. Maybe it was all an act that he’d fallen for hook, line and sinker. Maybe he’d never really known you, maybe he never would. Maybe you’d been on completely different pages all along. 

When had your heart ceased to beat for him, when had it turned numb? He loved you with every fibre of his being but perhaps it was time he let you go. 

Because as he looked at you now, he had no idea who you were. Behind your eyes you were a perfect stranger disguised as the woman he loved. You were nothing more than a mysterious effigy of the heart you’d broken. 

Miss Mysterious, who are you?

Who's the girl behind those eyes? Just a stranger in disguise?

Miss Mysterious, who could you be?

Where's the ghost of what we had? Did you erase it from your past?

Oh, so I pointed in every direction,

Oh well, looking for answers I'll never know.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

Miss Mysterious, may I ask:

Is your sunshine like my rain? Is your pleasure like my pain?

So delirious, casting your stones,

With the blood fall to my face,

Hoping that you'll lose your aim.

Oh, well it looks so bright with the lights out,

Oh well, I guess our stars forgot how to glow.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

No baby you, you broke my heart,

Now how do I get closure when you're only ever closed off?

Tell me who could take your place?

When these memories are telling me,

That we were not always,

Now don't even try to tell me that I should just relax,

And we're not strangled and over the tracks.

I tried to reach, I stretch out my hand but you turned around instead,

So many nights living inside just to connect with you.

Now I'm trying hard to win this but we've lost all we can lose,

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right?

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone".

Said if you love someone,

Now if you love someone,

Let them go.

Let them go.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories

[the-lady-bryan]

So Voldemort right

He's supposed to be this really super smart wizard on top of super powerful dark evil crazy guy, right.

Now lemme just say right now yes, I know the man was utterly fucknuts insane. But I can't help but question why he never thought to use, I dunno, literally any other deadly spell on Harry Potter. Keep in mind this fucker did not know Harry was a horcrux too. So he fully wanted this kid dead like super dead.

Like the first time this man used the avada kedavra on him as a toddler his body was vaporized. Okay, maybe he screwed up. Kid got lucky. It happens.

Second time he throws an avada kedavra at him they end up with priori incantatem. Okay, so it clearly didn't work a second time.

Third time he's like "ah, brother wands. Gotcha. I'll use someone else's this time." - so CLEARLY he is applying some thought to this process. He throws another one at the kid and once again, and I need to reread the battle of the seven potters section again as I can't be sure this happens in it or just the movie, but his borrowed wand... It breaks when their wands connect again. Oh and Hedwig takes a hit. So he gets lucky twice.

Okay... So now he realizes he not just needs a diff want he needs a stronger wand. So again, this highly intelligent, although insane, man is still applying logic here. He goes, gets powerful wand, and when they face off he uses it.

He hits Harry point fucking blank with an avada kedavra. Again not knowing about the horcrux thing which is why Harry survives.

But you would think, at the very least, when they square off ONE MORE TIME old Tom Riddle would have finally FINALLY realized the avada kedavra is NOT going to work on this little bastard. He has the single most powerful wand in existence and yes, I know Harry was it's true master yadda yadda yadda, but tell me you weren't just so exasperated when old Tom Riddle, this extremely intelligent and billed as a genius level intellect, chose to use the one single spell he now has explicit tangible proof DOES NOT WORK ON THIS ONE PARTICULAR CHILD.

Fucker would have stood a better chance if he'd just, I dunno,thrown a cutting curse at Harry's head.

Because what really were the chances, after point blank shooting him in the face with the killing curse who's only purpose in existence is to instantly kill, and the kid STILL BEING ALIVE AFTER, that it was actually going to work this time?

Like, I know the hero had to win and all that, and Voldemort was literally cray cray, and what he was doing was the definition of being insane, but still.

Dude was the dumbest smart person I've ever seen.

[papercranesandpride]

You know why else we need to normalize talking to children about genitalia openly and with correct anatomical terms?

Because right now, so many of us are raised to feel like they're supposed to be uncomfortable parts that you hide and are ashamed of, and that means that if you have bottom dysphoria, you have no idea that's not how you're supposed to feel about your genitals. They're supposed to be uncomfortable. Everyone acts like they are uncomfortable with their genitalia. That's why they never talk about them and have to hide them.

Like. I wore leggings constantly as a child, tween, and teen. Like every single day. They were the most comfortable pants and they came in the best patterns. Obviously I did. And yeah, I felt a bit weird about how tightly they fit in the crotch, but of course I did. You're supposed to feel weird about everybody being able to see your crotch like that. Like, people will tell you that you can only wear leggings with long shirts specifically to hide that clear view of the crotch. So obviously I was uncomfortable with it, and obviously I didn't question it in the slightest—because I thought I was supposed to be.

This is true of sex in general, as well. I would have realized I was super dysphoric a lot sooner if there wasn't a narrative that women (and even when I knew I was nonbinary I still culturally saw myself as a woman, having been raised as one and all) are uncomfortable with sex. It turns out, it is not, in fact, normal to see sex as a thing that is done to you instead of a thing that you do. It is not normal to feel like if you're being penetrated, you're inherently powerless. Those feelings were because I have never actually been fully comfortable with taking that role in sex. And maybe I would have realized just how fucked up all of my conceptions of sex were if we just made it even more clear that yes, cis women are supposed to enjoy sex too. They also have an active role. It is not just something done to them.

Maybe none of that would have changed anything. Maybe I still wouldn't see what now seems incredibly obvious. But I wonder. And this is why non-stigmatizing sex education and sexual empowerment is important not just after puberty, but for all ages. Because if you don't know that you're supposed to like these things and feel comfortable with them, how are you supposed to know when something is wrong?

[callsign-rogueone]

fractured - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x reader You break your arm, but Nolon isn't available to mend it. Bodhi takes care of you in the meantime. [request] words: 1.1k 🏷: no book spoilers. she/her reader in an established relationship with Bodhi. mentions of injury (broken arm) but no blood and no description of how it happened. just some fluff of Bo taking care of you.

Bodhi is out of his seat as soon as he sees you exit the exam room, looking a little worse for wear -- your arm is in a sling, the bridge of your nose split, and you’re walking slowly, like your legs are sore.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Xaden said you were here, but nobody would tell me anything. What happened?”

“I fractured my arm in two places,” you explain, “But Nolon is busy, so until he’s done with whatever else he has going on, I have to heal the old fashioned way.”

You leave out the details of how it happened, and hope that he won’t ask. He doesn’t -- he just takes your bag from your ‘good arm’, slinging it over his shoulder before you can protest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You give him a pained smile, letting him lead you back across the bridge to the rider’s quadrant, where everyone is sat down for dinner, in the middle of a spirited conversation. You slip into your normal seat, thankful that nobody seems to notice your condition or make a scene -- until they do.

“What’s with the sling?” Imogen asks, raising an eyebrow.

Every head at the table turns toward you. Great.

“Nolon was unavailable,” you answer in a tone that does not invite any more questions -- that seems to be good enough for them, but you still get a few worried glances and pitying looks from your friends in response.

You poke at your food, attempting to cut it with the side of your fork and failing -- it isn’t sharp enough. You set the utensil down, giving up; you aren’t that hungry, anyway, not after the painkiller the healers had given you, which isn’t doing anything except make you nauseous. You really hope that Nolon will be back tomorrow, because living like this is going to suck.

Bodhi notices your dilemma and slides your plate toward him, wordlessly taking your knife and fork and cutting everything into bite-sized pieces for you before he gives it back.

You thank him quietly, managing to eat half of it -- better than nothing, you suppose. Maybe you’ll feel better at breakfast.

He’s sitting on your right, your uninjured side, and he keeps you close to him all through dinner, tucked into his side.

When everyone is finished, he picks up your bag again, carrying it upstairs to your room, right across from his, following you inside and setting the bag on your desk chair. “Do you want help changing clothes? I promise I’m not just asking because I want to see you naked.”

You don’t laugh at the joke, kicking your boots off roughly, not caring where they land. 

“I’ll be fine,” you answer, turning your back on him. You’re sick of this, of feeling like a child, of being coddled and given those concerned looks all through dinner, like you can’t handle yourself -- like you haven’t had worse injuries, like you hadn’t run the gauntlet and bonded a dragon and literally everything else this terrible school asks of its students.

You try to tug your shirt off, hissing in pain at the movement of your arm. Hot tears start to flow down your cheeks as you continue to struggle, the fabric getting stuck on the thick wooden splint the healers had put around your forearm as a temporary fix.

“Hey,” Bodhi coaxes, “let me do it.”

You sigh, admitting defeat and taking a few steps toward him, allowing him to help get your good arm out of the other sleeve first, and gently untangle the shirt from the splint, tossing it into your laundry hamper with practiced ease.

He wipes away your tears with a gentle brush of his thumb, cradling your cheek in his hand. The familiar softness of his touch relaxes you near-instantly.

“I know this is frustrating for you, and I know you’re a badass independent woman dragon rider, who can take care of herself, and that’s one of the things I love most about you, but it would be easier -- and it would make me feel better -- if you let me help you. I love you, and I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Love you too.”

You stay like that for a moment, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes -- you’re exhausted.

“We’ll go by the healers before breakfast and see if Nolon is back,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But until then, I’m gonna be here to help you, okay?”

You make a soft sound of acknowledgement, working up the courage. “Stay the night?” you ask softly. 

“Gladly,” he answers. “I’ll even bring extra pillows.”

There’s a moment of soft, comfortable silence that you want to linger in forever -- you really don’t feel like trying to shower with this thing on, or to lay down in bed; even with Bodhi by your side, it’s going to be uncomfortable, especially with how much you usually toss and turn during the night.

“I never asked you how this happened,” he realizes.

You stiffen, silent.

He looks at you with a seriousness you hardly ever see, deep concern with anger simmering underneath. “I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

You shake your head. “Nobody hurt me.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you -- you could very well be lying, because you don’t want him to go off and beat someone up just because they bested you in a challenge, but there weren’t any challenge fights today; they’re over for the rest of the school year. Had someone gone out of their way to injure you, to make an attempt on your life? 

“My love, I’m serious. If someone tried to-”

“I tripped over my own shoelace and fell down the flight of stairs by Kaori’s classroom,” you interrupt quietly. “Half a dozen first-years saw the whole thing.”

He knows you well enough to know that you’re telling the truth, that what he’s seeing is genuine embarrassment -- the shyness in your voice and the warmth of your cheeks give it away.

He laughs in relief, and at how deeply unserious this whole situation is. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smile. “It’s pretty funny.”

It’s hilarious. You’d completed your first year largely unscathed, sustaining no major injuries, but an untied shoelace had nearly done you in.

“That’s it,” he declares, “I’m tying your shoes for you every morning from now on.”

You laugh, wincing when the motion jostles your arm and sends a jolt of pain through you.

“Oh, honey,” he soothes. “C’mere.”

You settle into his arms, leaning against him as he embraces you, careful not to touch your splint.

“I love you,” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“I love you too,” you reply. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, my love. Always.”

[elliespuns]

It’s definitely not a hate comment towards the actresses; it’s just a critique of the makeup staff or whoever’s responsible for that. But what I’m getting at is that both Bella and Isabela look way too young; they could pass for 10-year-old girls, and the worst part is they’re trying to sell us on Isabela carrying a child all empowered and Bella taking care of the baby like Dina’s partner??? Bella will end up looking like JJ’s slightly older sister. And can you believe both women, barely 5’1, are going to be taking down every guy in their path??? Good Lord, I’m so frustrated.

And I’m sure as hell we’ll just settle for whatever they give us and eventually accept it, but it’s not what we deserve as fans.

I agree with everything you say. Not here to dis either. I loved season 1 even though there were so many things that made me roll my eyes or mad for actually not happening at all (like all those Ellie and Joel moments they screw us over with by not delivering them and making their bond less impacful). But this is too much. I get it. They can't make the actresses meet the original Ellie's height, but with what the make-up artists can do nowadays, I was at least expecting Bella to age for the show. 

We can't have two (19 and 20) year old girls slaying everyone throughout their way of Seattle if they look like 12 year olds. Not to mention one of them is supposed to be pregnant; how's that going to look? Also, the cast for Jesse? Young Mazino definitely looks like Jesse's real age, so we're now having Dina, who is 12, date Jesse, who's over 20?

I love this duo for how capable they both are as a team. I don't mind that they won't look exactly the same, but the age, chemistry, and dynamics should fit. If I'm not getting this, I don't want anything else. 

I am not the one to point out flaws, and I usually look for the better parts in everything because I can appreciate effort, but I feel no effort really has been put into anything I've seen leaked. It feels like everyone's just pissed that Pedro won't be there on set to light up everyone's day, so they just kind of gave up on trying, or idk. It's just sad.

I can't even start thinking about certain scenes because they get even more hilarious when I imagine them based on what I've seen so far. Can you imagine the weed den scene? I don't want to watch two 12 year olds make out. Or the shamblers encounters? (if there will be any). Not even talking about the farm era, where Ellie and Dina live as a couple with a kid. If they don't make the girls age, nobody will take the whole show seriously. There are already so many people disliking S01 (most of them are game fans), and the creators just keep adding to the pile of dislikes. People are gonna be so angry and upset. 

Look, these are just leaked photos, I get it. Maybe the girls were just testing/practicing. Who knows. Maybe they'll even surprise us. But until then, I know I won't be expecting much because I'd rather expect the worst than expect a lot and then get a slap in the face.

[saintsenara]

what did you mean when you said tom was "grooming" ginny during cos?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

"grooming" is when someone establishes a social relationship with a vulnerable person and then convinces this vulnerable person that they are their closest friend in the world, that they alone understand and support them, and that they alone can be trusted to act in their best interest - in order to isolate, manipulate, control, exploit, and abuse them.

[know the signs!]

the term is primarily used in a legal context, and it is primarily used in cases in which the vulnerable person is a child who has been sexually abused - but it can be used to describe relationships in which both people are adults, and which contain neither sexual nor physical violence [i.e. relationships which feature emotional abuse or coercive control]. it often refers to relationships established online over significant periods of time - although short-term and in-person grooming is also possible.

the difference between grooming and other forms of abusive behaviour is that grooming hinges on flattery, rather than threat. someone who is being groomed will not [at first] be afraid of their abuser - they will feel listened to, supported, and understood; they will enjoy the conversations they have with the person who is grooming them; they won't think that any of the conversations they've had or information they've disclosed have crossed a line into behaviour they should tell someone about.

and so many victims of grooming often don't realise what's happening to them until the abuser has isolated them from other support networks and primed them to rely on them alone - and has also made the victim like them and want to avoid upsetting them - at which point the groomer will start a more active campaign of abuse against the victim [for example, making them perform sexual acts, or making them work for them as a drug dealer], using the strength of their supposed "friendship" ["i thought you were my best friend, but i guess you're not if you won't do this for me..."] to secure not only the victim's compliance, but to manipulate the victim into thinking that they're behaving consensually and with agency ["other people don't understand that you want to do this... but i do... i understand you better than anyone in the world..."].

and this is exactly what tom riddle does to ginny in chamber of secrets.

he makes ginny believe that they're best friends - and that he's the only person who truly understands her - by initially chatting to her about [relatively] benign things:

“The diary,” said Riddle. “My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes - how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how” - Riddle’s eyes glinted - “how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her...” [...] “It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom... I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in... It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket...”

it's unlikely that ginny regarded any of these things as personal secrets which nobody else was aware of - she is embarrassed and annoyed that her whole family know she fancies harry [and tease her about this accordingly], rather than terrified that they'll find out that she does.

but riddle then clearly manipulates her - since he's her best friend! - into disclosing things which she hasn't told anyone else:

“If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets."

which she is clearly terrified of him revealing:

“Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you?"

which he then uses as a springboard into getting her to do things for him:

"I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her...” “What d’you mean?” said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.  “Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?” said Riddle softly. “Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat.” “No,” Harry whispered. “Yes,” said Riddle, calmly. “Of course, she didn’t know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries... far more interesting, they became... Dear Tom,” he recited, watching Harry’s horrified face, “I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad... I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”

it's up to interpretation whether riddle convinces ginny that she's responsible for the attacks or not, but it's certainly clear that he promises her that he won't breathe a word of her fears that she is - and that this keeps her in thrall of him for months after the attacks begin:

“It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” said Riddle.

this entire arc of chamber of secrets really is textbook grooming [which i am sure was intentional, given the fact that so much children's literature is didactic]

while the doylist text immediately ceases to care about what happens to ginny at the end of the book because of standard genre reasons [both children's stories and mystery stories - which chamber of secrets is - always wrap up with that sort of "everything's fine now, no long-term problems here" vibe], the watsonian explanations are interesting to grapple with.

especially given the... lax approach the wizarding world takes towards the safety of children.

[nicstylus]

Finished >:D

[sneakyboymerlin]

Begging you all to watch the show without the m•rthur lens, because all sense of who these characters even are has been lost here.

[iloveyouitisruiningmylife]

spending my whole life trying and trying and trying and trying to be good enough for people who don't give a fuck about me

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hella1975]

are you guys thinking about touya todoroki today because i am

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Rant

I love my job because I love working with kids. I love seeing them grow and watching the ways their little minds work and helping them when they need it.

I also hate my job because I'll get used and abused all day, having to do things that AREN'T MY RESPONSIBILITY because literally no one else is paying attention to the kids, I am the only one watching even though I'm NOT the teacher, I'm NOT the classroom aide, I am a one-on-one.

But I CARE. I care so FREAKING MUCH about these kids that I can't just not do anything. I have TRIED to not do anything. It never works. And it's maddening and I hate it I hate it I hate that I can be USED in this way.

But by God these kids do not deserve to suffer just because I'm the only adult in the room willing to DO MY GOSHDANGED JOB so I do more than I should because these are LITTLE PEOPLE who don't UNDERSTAND. I want to wear a shirt every day that says, "I'm doing this FOR THE KIDS."

I just wish somebody else would do it for them too.

[gigginox]

hm. i feel like this game is trying to get a point across