#let my girl live

[shebunie]

Do you think you could write about mizu x reader being a belly dancer, how do you think she'd react when her traveling friend starts belly dancing to some music or something-?

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭.𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁, 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴─

“This is not helping,” Mizu mumbled while adjusting her cap, following the cheers and applause of a forming crowd not far from her. The narrow, bustling streets were filled with the lively sounds of market vendors haggling, the tantalizing aroma of spices, and the enchanting melodies of street musicians. 

The swordswoman couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration as she surveyed the scene. Mizu's wandering feet led her to a bustling square where a spirited atmosphere promised entertainment of all kinds. The crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage, and curiosity sparked in Mizu's eyes as she edged closer to see what the commotion was about.

As she maneuvered through the sea of people, the rhythm of enticing music filled the air. Mizu's sharp instincts honed in on a familiar beat—the intoxicating melody of dancing. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Mizu couldn't resist the pull of the performance unfolding before her.

On the stage, a mysterious figure gracefully swayed and twirled, casting a spell on the onlookers with every sinuous movement. The dancer's attire shimmered in the sunlight, adorned with intricate embellishments that caught and reflected the vibrant colours of the surroundings. Mizu couldn't help but be captivated by the mesmerizing display. 

Much to the woman's surprise, the mysterious dancer turned out to be none other than you. Realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind. It was you, donned in that attire of vibrant silk, with gems that cascade down your arms as it draped across those hips that clung to your form, accentuating the graceful arcs of movements. The tinkling sound of delicate bells attached to their clothing harmonized with the rhythmic beat of the music, creating a symphony that echoed through the marketplace.

Her travelling companion had somehow managed to gather an impromptu audience. Mizu's eyes widened as she observed your fluid movements. How their hips swayed, hands tracing intricate patterns in the air, and their whole body seemed to speak a language of its own. The crowd, initially drawn by the music, quickly shifted their attention to the captivating performance unfolding before them.

For a moment, Mizu forgot her annoyance and found herself mesmerized by your newfound skill. Your dance was a mesmerizing spectacle, and the rhythmic undulations seemed to cast a spell over the gathering crowd. The coins tossed into the makeshift hat at their feet served as a testament to the crowd's appreciation.

Caught in the hypnotic sway of the dancer's movements, Mizu couldn't help but appreciate the artistry. However, the stoic demeanour remained intact. Unbeknownst to her, a mischievous glint sparkled in the eyes of her companion, you who had been sharing the path to revenge for some time.

Seizing the opportunity to break through the sword wielder’s composed exterior, with a grin you gestured towards the makeshift dance floor. "Come on, Mizu! Join me!" Such infectious enthusiasm contrasts with Mizu's restrained demeanour.

Mizu's initial reaction was a raised eyebrow and a hesitant shake of her head, but you persisted, adding a teasing twirl to their dance. The crowd cheered, encouraging Mizu to let loose. She scoffed at the suggestion, her attention fixed on the performance before her. "I’m not much of a dancer," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of aloofness.

Dancing was not her forte, and she had always been more comfortable with a sword in hand than moving to the rhythm of music. But as the crowd's enthusiasm grew, and you continued to dance with uninhibited joy, Mizu felt a flicker of something within her—a spark of curiosity. 

You approached her with a twirl, "It's more fun when you join in," a whisper to her ear, you slyly intertwined your hands together, and you felt her stiffen. Caressing her face with a free hand, it seemed as if the market square seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the centre of the world. There was a subtle softness in your gaze, a silent invitation to step out of her comfort zone.

“I’ll guide you through it.”

After a moment of contemplation, Mizu sighed, realizing that resisting your infectious energy was a futile endeavour. With a reluctant smile, she gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you pulled her into the dance. The crowd erupted in cheers as Mizu tentatively moved to the music, her movements initially rigid but gradually becoming more fluid.

As the two of you danced together, Mizu's initial discomfort melted away. She started to enjoy the experience, feeling the freedom that came with letting go of her usual stoic demeanour. The composed woman found herself smiling genuinely, revelling in the unexpected joy of the moment. The dance continued, weaving a story of a blossoming relationship, adventure, and the magic that happens when one lets go of inhibitions.

As the music reached its crescendo, concluding their performance with a graceful bow. The crowd erupted in applause. Both panting slightly from the exertion, a triumphant grin plastered on your face.

"How was that?" you asked, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Mizu chuckled, genuinely impressed. "Well, that was certainly… different."

You beamed at her response, earlier worries about entertaining the crowd dissipating like morning mist. The sun's golden rays painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, creating a breathtaking canvas that stretched across the horizon. Having successfully navigated the lively market, found a quiet corner bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The distant sounds of the crowd blended into a gentle hum as they settled into a moment of tranquillity.

"You were amazing out there, Mizu," you praised, a genuine smile gracing your face. "Who knew you had such hidden talents?"

Mizu smirked, a rare display of satisfaction crossing her features. "I suppose there's more to me than meets the eye. But don't get used to it; I don't plan on making a habit out of dancing in public."

You chuckled, acknowledging her reserved nature. "Fair enough. But I'm glad you joined in. It added a bit of charm to the day."

As the sun continued its descent, the market square transformed into a mosaic of warm lights and shadows. Street vendors lit lanterns, creating a winsome ambience that enveloped the surroundings. Strolling through the narrow pathways, exploring the enchanting stalls that offered an array of exotic wares.

They shared laughter and stories, creating memories that would linger in their hearts long after the journey's end. Mizu, known for her stoicism and unwavering focus on the mission at hand, found herself enjoying the simple pleasures of the moment. The infectious spirit of you had a way of breaking through her walls, and for a fleeting moment, Mizu welcomed the respite.

As the night wore on, Mizu and you, sated and content, made their way back to their lodgings. The market square, now quieter, still echoed with the distant melody of music and the memories of a warrior's dance. Little did they know that their paths, intertwined by chance and connection, would continue to unfold with each step of their voyage.

#blue eye samurai #mizu brainrot #blue eye samurai x reader #fanfic #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #bes #fic #request #dancing #dance #let me free from my confines #bes comfort #my wife mizu #bes mizu #let my girl live #like ahhhh #this is everything #poetic writing #i love being down bad for her #she is so beautiful #aaaaaaaaa #oh my goddd #yes i do the cooking yes i do the cleaning #mizu being happy #mizu rest day cuz she deserves it <3

[ennawrite]

Tamlin was diving between Feyre’s legs like it was the last supper in the same god damn book her & Rhys fell in love and became mates.

Nesta’s book started out with her opening the door for Cassian in ANOTHER male’s shirt, while said male was still asleep in her bed. And guess what? Cassian and Nesta ended the book together, as mates & in love.

Anything and everything can happen in Elain’s book but if Elucien is endgame, her previous escapades with anybody wouldn’t deter the ending. Having sex is a perfectly normal and okay thing to do for a twenty-something year old woman. You can have sex with people you don’t love!! You can have sex with someone you do love and still not end up with them!!!

I’m not sure where this “well they’re sexually attracted to each other so they must be endgame!!” idea came from because it’s such an untrue, bizarre thing to say. Nesta had sexual fantasies about both Az & Cass, are they endgame? Feyre was all over Tamlin not long ago, are they endgame?

Let my girls have fuuunnn 😭

#acotar #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #sex positive #pro nesta archeron #pro feyre archeron #pro let characters be sexually attracted to each other #having sex is normal #let my girl live #pro azriel acotar #acotar critical #acosf #acomaf #feysand #nessian #elucien #gwynriel

[hrizantemy]

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW

Nesta lay in bed, her body feeling heavier than ever, as though the weight of the world had pressed her into the mattress. Days had passed, blending together in a haze of muffled sounds and dim light filtering through the drawn curtains. The silence was her only companion, punctuated occasionally by the faint echoes of life happening beyond her door.

She turned her head slowly to the side, her eyes landing on the figure beside her. The girl, who had kept her company through these endless days, was tangled in the sheets, her body a mess of graceful disarray. Her wild hair fanned out across the pillow, an auburn halo that framed her sleeping face. There was a serene innocence to her features, softened by the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Half of the blanket had slipped to the floor, leaving her exposed to the cool air, yet she remained blissfully undisturbed.

Nesta’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in the contrast between her own turmoil and the girl’s peaceful slumber. She marveled at how someone could sleep so soundly, so untroubled, when the world outside felt so relentlessly unforgiving. The girl had stayed with her, never once complaining, through every bleak hour and dark thought that threatened to consume Nesta entirely.

A sense of gratitude, rare and fleeting, flickered within Nesta. This girl, with her messy hair and calm presence, was a lifeline in the storm that raged inside her. Nesta reached out, a tentative movement, and gently pulled the blanket back over the girl’s shoulders, tucking it around her with a care that surprised even herself. She sighed softly, her hand lingering for a moment on the warmth of the girl’s arm, before retreating back to her own space.

With a measured breath, Nesta began to ease herself out of bed, careful not to disturb the girl sleeping beside her. She moved slowly, her limbs stiff from the days spent in stillness. Her movements were deliberate, as if she were performing a ritual she had repeated countless times before. She had, in fact, done this so many times that she had memorized the positions of every creaky floorboard in the room.

As she shifted her weight to her feet, the bed barely stirred, the girl’s breathing continuing undisturbed. Nesta glanced down at the tangle of sheets, ensuring they were arranged in a way that wouldn’t rouse the girl. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a silver glow on the scene, adding to the hushed tranquility of the moment.

Her bare feet met the floor with practiced precision. She stepped lightly, each move calculated to avoid the well-known creaks and groans of the old wooden boards. One step, then another, she navigated the room with the skill of someone who had lived within these confines for a lifetime. Her eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, her mind tracing the map of safe spots she had etched into her memory.

Nesta paused near the door, casting one last look back at the girl. Her companion lay undisturbed, the blanket now snugly covering her, rising and falling with her steady breaths. There was something almost sacred about the peacefulness that surrounded her, a stark contrast to the turbulence Nesta felt inside.

She let out a slow, silent exhale and turned back to the door, her hand hovering over the handle. The metal felt cool against her fingertips as she turned it with care, pulling the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. Once in the hallway, she closed it just as gently, sealing the quiet sanctuary of the room behind her.

It was early morning, though the sky remained a deep, velvety black, with only the faintest hint of dawn on the horizon. The house was shrouded in silence, the world outside still asleep. Nesta moved quietly through the dimly lit kitchen, the familiarity of her surroundings providing a small measure of comfort. This had become her ritual, a semblance of routine amidst the chaos that plagued her mind.

She set a kettle on the stove, the soft hiss of gas igniting beneath it breaking the silence. As she waited for the water to boil, Nesta gathered her tea leaves with methodical precision, each motion deliberate and careful. The ritual of making tea was grounding, a series of small, manageable tasks that brought her a brief respite from the constant turmoil within her.

The kettle whistled softly, and she poured the steaming water over the leaves, watching as the rich, amber liquid swirled and settled in the cup. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, savoring the heat against her cold fingers. The steam rose, carrying with it the faint, soothing scent of the tea, and Nesta breathed it in deeply, hoping to calm the storm inside her.

She carried her cup to the small table by the window, settling into a chair that had become her sanctuary in these quiet, solitary hours. She never really slept anymore. Instead, she remained awake, her mind too restless for the comfort of dreams. Occasionally, she would lose herself in a book, finding temporary escape within its pages. More often, though, she simply sat, sipping her tea and letting the silence envelop her.

In her darker moments, she had turned to stronger substances, seeking oblivion in a bottle. But she had been trying to do less of that, less of a lot of things. It was a struggle, a constant battle against the urge to numb herself, to escape the weight of her thoughts. Tonight, though, she had managed to resist, choosing tea over spirits, and for that, she felt a small measure of pride.

Nesta supposed she should have been more concerned about the girl currently occupying her space, but her mind had been too clouded to care when it all began. She had met the girl at a tavern, one of the many dimly lit, smoky places she frequented when the nights grew too long and the silence too suffocating. The memory of their meeting was hazy at best—admittedly, she had been blacked out for most of it.

Imagine Nesta's surprise when she came to, not in the tavern or some unfamiliar bed, but hunched over her own toilet, retching with a ferocity that left her trembling. And there, holding back her hair with a gentle but firm hand, was the girl. Nesta had been too busy expelling the contents of her stomach to question it, the whole scene surreal in her muddled state. When she finally managed to lift her head, weak and disoriented, the girl had assured her that nothing had happened while she had been drunk.

At first, Nesta had taken those words at face value, too exhausted to probe deeper. But the girl had stayed, even after the sickness had passed and the daylight had broken. She had stayed, helping Nesta to bed, bringing her water, and simply sitting with her through the worst of it. It was a strange thing, to have someone care without expecting anything in return. Strange, but not unwelcome.

Over time, the girl’s presence became a fixture in Nesta's life, and the initial surprise gave way to a reluctant acceptance. Perhaps Nesta needed something—someone—to fill the void that alcohol no longer could. The girl obliged, not just with her company, but with a quiet understanding that spoke volumes in the spaces between words. There were nights when Nesta couldn’t bear to be alone, and the girl was there, a silent companion in the darkness.

It wasn’t long before Nesta realized that she wasn’t the only one seeking solace. The girl, too, seemed to be using Nesta, perhaps for the same reason. They were both lost, two broken souls clinging to each other in the hopes of finding some semblance of meaning. There were no promises, no expectations, just a mutual understanding that sometimes, the presence of another was enough to stave off the darkness.

Nesta didn’t deny that she and the girl had been physical with each other. In those dark, quiet moments when the night seemed to stretch on forever, they had found solace in each other’s arms. It had started almost accidentally, a desperate, shared need for warmth and connection that transcended words. Nesta had never thought much about what it meant, and she didn’t think the girl did either.

Their encounters were not marked by grand declarations or promises. There were no whispered confessions or plans for the future. Instead, they simply fell into a rhythm, a natural progression of their shared existence. In the evenings, they would sit together, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about nothing of consequence. When the nights grew too cold or the loneliness too sharp, they would find comfort in the closeness of their bodies.

Nesta found that she didn’t need to analyze it, to label what they were or what they were doing. It was a rare thing for her, to let something be without dissecting it, without trying to control or define it. But with this girl, it felt natural. They continued like normal, their days marked by an unspoken understanding that extended beyond the physical. They both needed this, and that was enough.

The girl never pressed for more, never asked for anything Nesta wasn’t willing to give. In return, Nesta offered her what she could—companionship, a shared space, and those moments of physical intimacy that kept the encroaching emptiness at bay. They didn’t talk about what it meant because it didn’t need to be talked about. It simply was.

And so they continued, falling into an easy, unhurried routine. The girl would wake before Nesta, making tea or sometimes breakfast, and Nesta would find her in the kitchen, a silent, steadfast presence. They would spend the days as they always did, each finding small ways to fill the hours. When night fell, they returned to each other, drawn by a mutual understanding that neither could put into words.

The quiet creaking of floorboards, certainly not as discreet as her own careful steps, pulled Nesta out of her thoughts. She glanced up, just in time to see the door opening slowly, revealing the girl. The sheets hung haphazardly around her, barely covering her as she made her way to the kitchen. Nesta watched silently, her gaze following the girl’s every movement.

The girl went about making herself a cup of tea, the clinking of the kettle and the rustle of tea leaves the only sounds in the stillness. She moved with a sleepy grace, as if the weight of sleep still clung to her. Nesta said nothing, and the girl, too, remained silent. Their unspoken understanding filled the space between them.

The girl joined Nesta at the table, sitting across from her with her tea. She seemed engrossed in the simple act of drinking, her eyes occasionally drifting to the window. The world outside was still dark, with only the faintest promise of dawn on the horizon. Nesta, book in hand, resumed her reading, though her attention was divided.

The girl’s presence was a quiet comfort, a steadying force amidst the turmoil of Nesta’s thoughts. She sipped her tea slowly, her fingers curled around the warm cup, her eyes reflecting the dim light. The sheets had slipped further, but she made no move to adjust them, seemingly content in her casual disarray.

Nesta turned a page, the soft rustle blending with the girl's occasional sips. There was no need for words between them; their silence was filled with understanding. The girl looked out the window again, her expression contemplative, and Nesta wondered what thoughts occupied her mind. But for Nesta, this was enough. She continued to read, letting the rhythm of their shared silence settle over her like a comforting blanket.

#sapphic nesta #no one asked but you still get this anyway congratulations #might be a series honestly #anti acotar #anti acosf #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti cassian #anti azriel #anti amren #anti morrigan #anti nessian #pro nesta #nesta archeron deserves better #let my girl live #I accidentally tagged wrong so I fixed it

[artistcarcass]

I don’t usually talk about Bridgerton on main BUT I WILL SAY: I want a season or even a Queen Charlotte style once off on Violet so badly. Let Mama Bridgerton have her own love story!! I want to see how she fell in love with Edmund! I want her to find new love as her children start leaving the nest! Give my girl her moment!!

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton netflix #violet bridgerton #let my girl live #she’s such a sweetheart :( #rare post #text post

[sillykytty]

"Tigress should have been the next Dragon Warrior 😭"

TIGRESS ACCEPTED SHE WASN'T THE DRAGON WARRIOR, SHE ACCEPTED THAT SHE DIDN'T NEED TO BE, SHE ACCEPTED THAT SHE WANTED TO FIGHT FOR JUSTICE AND PROTECT THE WEAK ONES

U KNOW WHY??? CAUSE SHE (JUST LIKE THE OTHER FURIOUS FIVE) WANTED TO BE THE DRAGON WARRIOR FOR SHIFU

BUT THEN SHE REALIZED THAT SHE WAS MORE THAN THE "CHOSEN ONE" AND EVEN MORE THAN JUST A KUNG FU MASTER

SHE LITERALLY DECIDED TO BE HAPPY AND HERSELF¿¿¿!!!

Let my girls alone (Zhen and Tigress)

#kung fu panda #kfp #master tigress #kfp tigress #kfp zhen #you don't get them like I do #let my girl live #literally #AND DON'T MAKE TALK ABOUT TAI LUNG #mf just wanted to live #she is just a girl

[lynx-224]

ppls hot takes r getting a little too hot

#like i saw someone say they wanted grover to be the brains of the quest #when annabeth is right there?? #and then someone was complaining abt how they ruined annabeths character in ep 4 #like how so?? she continued to be smart outspoken and she babbled on abt architecture #and too many ppl r saying annabeth is gonna be the traitor lkek let’s use critical thinking skills shes risked her life for him #they’re not gonna be enemies #the luke defenders r funny tho #but i’ve seen too many wrong opinions abt annabeth #bitches jus wanna complain atp #let my girl live #lynx talks #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #walker scobell #annabeth chase #leah sava jeffries #hot take #grover underwood #rick riordan

[cap-apologist]

Tw for miscarriage

PSA to The Rookie writers: Lucy Chen cannot get pregnant until at the earliest the end of season 7. Maybe a Chenford proposal for the season 6 finale but that’s it. Think about it? If she got pregnant now:

A: She’d have an abortion. First of all, her body, her choice. But that would hurt Tim and it would hurt Lucy. I don’t want that for Chenford. Just no.

B. She’d have a miscarriage. Hasn’t Lucy been through enough trauma. Give my girl a break.

C. She’d have to pick being a mom over being UC. At least for a while. After all that hard work Lucy put into her career, cause eventually she’ll become a UC detective, she has to put her dreams on the back burner for her child.

I love the idea of baby Chenford but not yet.

PS. I’m a whole hypocrite cause I just wrote a Chenford miscarriage fic.

#chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #let my girl live

[gildedmuse]

What do my fanfic and OPLA have in common?

Reminding the fandom how badass Kuina is.

#all hearts #shameless plug #Kuina is so badass #OPLA did her justice #then it killed her #fucking bastard #let my girl live #one piece #shimotsuki kuina #one piece live action #also zoro is super gay in both #just saying #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #one piece fanfiction #one piece au #zoro as a heart pirate #kuina as a strawhat

[sotvtaughtmehowtofeel]

I know you’ve heard of trauma dumping in conversation but have you heard of trauma dumping in narrative? where a story just keeps traumatizing the same character relentlessly?

#this is about ellie #ellie williams #LET MY GIRL LIVE #LET MY GIRL HEAL #the last of us #tlou

[girluimfailing]

Girl some of the ppl I seen y'all genuinely crazy enough to find any fucking reason to shit on Talia. And it's baffling. "she raised damian in an abusive environment" and she's a terrible person. "She gave him up for adoption and didn't care about him" and she's a terrible person. "She abandoned him and dropped him off at Bruce after he was born" and she's a terrible person. Like what do y'all want her to do? abort? There are still gonna be ppl who blame HER for that, aren't there?

#talia al ghul #again. I Get yall like her being a terrible person or at least not a great person #But you DONT get to shit on her for that #specially to push your ships #let my girl live #she had no choice smh

[kitttttchaos]

Annabeth better watch a movie before Season 4 comes out bc if the beginning of the BotL is her only opportunity to see one and Rachel Elizabeth Dare ruins it—

I’m sorry but Rachel will lose every ounce of respect and compassion I have for her. This goes BEYOND Percy, okay, this is serious

#I will throw hands #let my girl live #I already got over my previous hatred for Rachel bc that’s not right #but if she ruins this #omg #Annabeth chase #percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo disney+ #pjo tv show #pjo series

[hawkinsincorrect]

Dr. Owens: Eleven, maintaining a normal social life as someone with your powers is- is problematic at best.

El: This is the 80s. The 1980s, in point of fact, and I can do both.

#let my girl live #incorrect quotes #stranger things #eleven #el hopper #sam owens #source: buffy the vampire slayer

[mirrorballmika]

I stg if Mika gets possessed for a forth fucking time I'm gonna-

#danger force #mika macklin #df spoilers #let my girl LIVE

[esmes]

me vs the urge to throw hands when people continue to dogpile and complain about annaleigh's lovett accent

#they’re going off the cast recording alone most of the time and haven’t seen in her action tbf #but even so!!! even when i had heard just by the sea and her little bit at the beginning of epiphany i did not gaf #my father is a whole Englishman and i couldn’t care LESS if hers is not a perfect cockney accent #let my girl LIVE #it's campy and she's FUN #next!

[loveourfuture-c]

People who are hating on Kimberly for liking and kissing Canaan are stupid.

#leave my girl alone #should she have talked to Whitney about it? yes but her not doesn’t make her a bad person #let my girl live #tslocg #tslocg spoilers #also don’t hate on Whitney for being upset she has every right #the sex lives of college girls spoilers #the sex lives of college girls #whitney chase #kimberly finkle

[krissywakeupbyler]

I’ve been watching a lot of reaction videos of people watching ST for the first time and I am truly appalled at how many people said Max had a bad influence on El.

Like it’s BECAUSE of Max that El even realized that she’s allowed to be her own person and not what someone else wanted her to be. El smiling because she’s experiencing what being a young girl is like for the first time is so amazing and we should all be THANKING Max for that.

#el hopper #max mayfield #elmax #stranger things 3 #people are dumb #let my girl LIVE