#and i don't know how to tell her that it's because of her mom - my grandma

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my mom that my dad might be a murderer?

So I (14F) have an odd set of parents, to put it kindly. For the past year and a half or so, my father (58M) has been leaving, using drugs and being very angry when he comes back. (He doesn't usually yell at/do anything to me, so don't be concerned for my safety. I have people to go to.) He's been yelling at my mother (54F) about this man, I'll call him "D" (I don't know his age, I've never heard of or met him prior to this) and how she cheated on my father with him 12 years etc. And then he was yelling about how D was dead and she probably went to the funeral and.. whatever other nonsense.

My mother told me what happened the night he's accusing her of cheating. They were at the bar [my parents used to own a bar] and my mother didn't want my father to get drunk. He's a violent drunk. So, she asked D to stay with her, thinking that he wouldn't be like that in front of a guy that he respected. She was wrong. He kicked her out, and got in a fight with D. She left with her father, got a call from the hospital about my father having like a 4.0 bac and that was that.

I was telling my brother (35M) about this and he was really surprised. He knew D, and that he was a nice guy, and he knew how he died.

Brain trauma from being beaten up ≈ 12 years ago.

It didn't sound like D got in a lot of fights - my brother certainly was surprised when he heard the cause of death - so it was probably my dad. It makes sense why he's made such a big deal out of it, and was especially bad the day he (D) died.

My mother told me not to tell my brother anything that goes on in our house. I don't want them to have even more tension than they do, especially right now because she's sick (ckd, end stage, if that matters. she's got a couple years) and also - I don't think it would do anything. She already keeps evidence "just in case he kills her" so I don't think telling her would help. I also kind of want to tell her. I don't know. Would it be an asshole move?

(Obviously I know I don't have hard evidence against my dad, so I wouldn't state it as fact, just my theory.) anyway, 🙃 to find later.

#aita #am i the asshole

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************************************

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

*******************************************

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

***************************************************

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

***************************************

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna

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[old-school-butch]

Hello again <3

I sent you an anon that you replied to on April 1st, which was me asking how ex-TIFs are received back into womanhood. Your reply gave me a little foothold which ended up very comforting as I started coming out rapid-fire to all my friends as detrans. this is primarily a message for other people in my situation, who are afraid and might want a template of what you might expect will happen once you do come out with it.

Predictably, most of my friends dropped me; I've 3 friends left. Two of which continue to support trans people but can accept that i have different opinions (as long as i'm "not mean") and one of which has seen the gender critical arguments, accepted them, and agrees. So, heavy losses, but not total losses. My two siblings seemed to sigh in relief and reveal that they never believed in genderism at all, which is odd, because in my 10 years of being trans not one of them challenged me on it. my mom fell into heavy guilt over "letting me" do all this, although i was 18 when i took testo and 19 when i got surgery, so she really could not have stopped me, legally. i suppose she mainly grieves knowing that had she had the right arguments she could have saved her kid this, but i've told her she is not to blame and i hope she recognizes that.

i haven't received any real harassment, not from anyone that i PERSONALLY know, though my family has received... harassment targeted at me? my sister had a classmate begin sending her copious pro-trans propaganda (contrapoints videos) which she instructed should be sent onward to me (sis did not comply). hilarious how my 10 years of direct experience is suddenly null and void and i'm assumed to know nothing about transness.... 6 months ago i was helping people sensitivity-write trans characters. now, i'm told i can't speak for the trans experience at all, and that i do not know what it's like to be a transmasc person. told that i need to listen to the arguments more carefully, that i don't LISTEN, when i literally lived this for 10 whole years. girl, on god? they tell me i don't get it and need to educate myself. and have empathy of course.

but in general, detransing, i've discovered that there are PLENTY of people who do not actually believe in genderism but who will play along simply out of fear or social pressure. my friends aside, who i knew through "queer" circles, everyone in my family (expect my mom) has revealed they never actually believed in it. i think this might contribute to why trans people bully dissenters so badly. they know this is the truth, that no one really buys it. i think, subconsciously, i have known that too. i never downloaded grindr, i never went into the men's bathrooms. i knew that despite testo and surgery and pronouns i could never challenge men as an equal in their eyes.

interestingly, making new friends is not that hard. I lead with the fact i'm detrans and "don't believe in all that shit" and people are VERY eager to be able to, suddenly, voice their real opinions without being called transphobic. they begin with probing questions, uncontroversial statements like "i agree they shouldn't put males in women's sports..." but if you continue to agree and not punish this daring on their part, they will reveal, with much relief and enthusiasm, what they really think. most people, normal people, really do not believe it all? i'm a brash person and can take irl confrontations quite well, hence i feel safe putting myself up as a transphobe off the bat. and people are very into this. so. the old ass saying, just be yourself.... normal people will not volunteer anti-genderist opinions on their own but when i continue to state thing after thing they open up and agree and eventually feel safe enough to admit their own thoughts. making friends, especially with non-gendie women, hasn't been that hard.

i'm going to write another message about same-sex attraction in the genderverse, but it's also a can of worms so i will make it separate from this one. again, thank you so much, for having anon on and listening, and letting us listen to each other without fear. i would hug you. to be continued

Thanks for the follow up!

My only comment is that I think most people play along out of kindness, it's not all bullying and fear, but that does impose a silence on everyone so everyone feels quite alone with their doubts.

[042502]

Experimenting // C. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: You and Chris are two teenagers who started dating a few months ago, curiously beginning to experience new things together. WARNINGS: Adolescents, groping, porn, inappropriate language, obscene descriptions, among others.

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :) MASTERLIST!!

I was standing in front of the refrigerator, leaning on the door. No matter how hard you search, the inside of the refrigerator would still be empty. I couldn't believe that my mother goes to work and forgets that she has a daughter to feed. what a bummer. My stomach growls with hunger and my moody face grows bigger. I remember that there was half of the bread I had for breakfast in the morning left in the cupboard, so I head over there and take a good bite. End of the month was always difficult in my house, my parents' salary was not enough.

I sit at the table and look out through the window. Since I left school at noon it seemed like a terrible rain was coming and it didn't take long to wait. The drops were pattering against the glass and the sky was dark. She still had her backpack on from having just arrived while she chewed the little bread I had left. I distract myself with some TV and settle down at the table, leaving my backpack aside. A few minutes pass until I hear a knock on the door. It's a little hard for me to see who it is because the rain soaked through the window, but I see a figure standing at my door.

I can't figure out who it is but I get up from my place to run to the door anyway, If someone is getting wet in the storm there must be a reason. Once I opened the door it's not hard for me to know it's Chris, so I smile excitedly, I don't even mind getting soaked in the rain. We had already seen each other at school all day, but I love seeing him again.

"Hurry up, stop looking at me and open up to me, I'm getting wet." Chris speaks, pretending to be angry as I open the door for him and we run towards the house. He has a bag in his hand with a Pepsi bottle peeking out of it.

Once inside the house I leave him a short kiss on the lips and go in search of a towel. When he returns to the kitchen he is obviously already quite comfortable at the table, as if it were his home.

"What's the matter that you came, honey?" I asked for. Every time I say a pet name to him I get butterflies in my stomach, a mix between shame and happiness to be able to call it that. We have been dating for a very short time.

He begins to dry himself with the towel and leaves it on the back of the chair.

"Your mom told me she didn't leave you anything for lunch." he finally says. He points to the bag he brought that has two hamburgers in it. My eyes lit up and he pulled me on top of him to hug him and fill his face with kisses. "Oh my God ma, You're seriously very hungry." He says laughing as he tries to reciprocate the kisses I give him on the mouth.

"I love you I love you I love you" I stayed sitting between his legs and got ready to eat, I was very hungry. Chris repeats my action and takes a good bite.

We started talking about trivial things and every so often we gave each other a couple of kisses. It makes me very happy to spend time with him outside of school because everything feels a little more intimate. He is very good company and he always knows what to say to me to make me laugh, I had a great time with him because in addition to being boyfriends, we are best friends.

"Bro, you don't know what Nate told me" Chris says with a gossipy lady tone. "Do you remember the girl who was chasing him?"

"Ema?" She asked with her eyebrows furrowed, he nods quickly with the burger in his mouth.

"He says they went to a boring party and out of nowhere Ema took him to the darkness and gave him a blowjob" He starts laughing out loud and I can't help but laugh with him. Not only about what he tells me, but about how he spoke with his entire mouth full.

"Oh Chris, you are disgusting."

"She is the disgusting one, how is she going to give him a damn oral, what if someone sees them?. I would die of shame."

Although I know that it is very easy for Chris to talk about that topic, I still feel sorry for him. We've been dating for a very short time and I know that this topic should be a little more normal for both of us, but I can't help but get nervous when I think about it.

"You already know what she is like, She is a slut looking for male attention, she must be more than fucked" say, trying to handle the situation and pretending that I understand everything.

Chris shrugs his shoulders and finishes his burger.

"Anyway ma, Aren't you ashamed of that?" He sees my confused face and adds "You know, stupid, to do it in places that can discover you."

Chris' comment makes me think he has no idea what he's talking about.

I laugh and deny.

"Did you do it?"

I pray to all the saints that their answer is no. If he answers that a woman touched him before me, I'm capable of fainting right there. Chris and me "We went out" since we were twelve years old, when we had our first kiss. But since we were both very little we wanted to try what it would be like to be together until he asked me recently and we made it official. So, he had all the freedom in the world to do whatever he wanted, And since he was quite shameless, I don't doubt that some girl jumped on him.

He takes a while to respond and that catches my attention. It makes me tender when I see him blush and I can't help but laugh.

"What's wrong Chris?" I ask laughing. I approach him and hug him tenderly.

"I thought it was obvious that not..." he answers quite embarrassed. I separate myself from him to look at his face and he is indeed quite nervous.

"oh fool, You don't have to get like that because of that. It's not that there is an age to do it, Just because others do it at your age doesn't mean you're obligated to do it."

He looks to the side, avoiding looking at me, he always does that when he's very embarrassed. My boy, I want to fill him with kisses. He turns to me again and crosses his arms, now not only is he embarrassed, but he seems offended.

"Do you?"

"Don't be stupid Chris" I approach and give him a kiss. "You know how I am, I've always been in love with you, how can you imagine that I could even touch a hair of another boy other than you."

"I don't know about the hair but the cock..." He responds laughing, he is no longer offended.. "Weren't you there because you didn't want to or because the moment didn't happen?"

I think about the answer a little, remembering a couple of random situations.

"You already know what Madi and Sofía are like." I remember him, referring to the fact that both have a long history. "They always tried to get me to have something with some random guy, but I always refused."

It seems that my answer gave him peace, I guess he must have been thinking the same thing as me, that no one has been with me before him.

"And you would like it...?" I notice again how the color rises to his cheeks. Although it makes me tender, it also provokes different things in me. The conversation has me quite comfortable and thinking about those things makes me start to become delirious.

"Yeah, could be..." I look the other way "And you?"

"Yeah, I don't know..." respond too, embarrassing "And have you looked at... any of that?"

We both avoid saying "the word", After all, we are two teenagers who are just learning about everything.

"You mean porn?" I go straight to the point, tired of your turns. It's not usually like this, but you can see that he really got nervous. He nods his head. "Oh yes, but I don't like the men's and women's ones very much."

"No? And what are you looking at?" He seems quite confused.

"of girls" I answer timidly. He seems surprised and laughs.

"Seriously you are...?"

"No, Chris. But I like what girls do to each other, it seems more normal to me, I don't know... Boys are more aggressive with girls, and I don't feel like they enjoy it very much."

"Oh yeah, it's true. The kids say that's cool, but I don't think so."

"Yes, they suffocate or hurt them, I don't know if that's the case."

"How do girls do it if they don't have dicks?"

"Do not be stupid, Chris" I laugh. "You have never seen?" denies. "They didn't show you either?" deny again. "That's strange, boys always like it."

"I heard but never saw" raises his shoulders.

An idea crosses my head, but I'm not sure how good it is. We look at each other while we are both silent, thoughtful..

"Shall we look?" We asked in unison and laughed at the coincidence.

We both nod and I get up to go get the laptop. I go back to the kitchen, I clean the table a little and sit on my boyfriend's lap again. I open the computer, I search and put one of the videos. I look at Chris, he's curious and I smile because I know he's going to like it. The video starts playing, the girls talk and soon they are on the couch kissing.

"It's the way they do it, You understand?" I tell him, without taking my eyes off the video. "They do it as if they both enjoy it."

Chris is quiet, attentive. We see how they begin to take off their clothes, one of the girls is on top of the other and moves slowly on top of her. I like the way they tempt each other, how they play in some way, they don't go "direct" to the fact, but they enjoy all of the above. I wanted to see this just because I wanted Chris to see what it was about, but I didn't think it would turn me on even though I was with him. And while the girl is getting rid of the clothes that cover her opponent, I think about how good it would feel to have Chris's hands doing the same. Sliding his fingers into the straps of my bra to move them over my shoulders, squeezing my tits and even kissing them. I feel something strong on the mount of Venus that descends a little further to my femininity. It's the same thing I feel when I watch those videos alone, but it's enhanced a thousand times more.

Chris's heavy breathing hits the back of my neck and makes me fantasize some more. The girls, now naked, begin to rub against each other, moaning. I imagine how good it would feel to do that same thing on Chris's leg, or on top of his hand, or even on top of him. So, how I'm sitting now, moving. I have to bite my lower lip a little hard, I can't pay enough attention to the video anymore because I'm already lost in my thoughts. How good it must feel to do all that with him.

When one of the girls starts fingering the other, Chris pauses the video, throwing me off. I turned to see him confused, I didn't want to think about how he didn't like it or how he was angry about what I showed him..

"I need to go to the bathroom, ma..." He speaks with a serious tone that leaves me hypnotized for a few seconds. He never spoke to me with that hoarse voice, nor did he look at me with eyes tinted a darker color. I blink a few times and lick my lips nervously. He tries to push me off his lap but I stay still on top of him.

"Because?" I came to ask, without even getting out of how hypnotized it has left me. We stare into each other's eyes and I feel quite hot. I'm still trying to figure out all these new sensations we're experiencing.

"Because..." He looks down and I do the same as him, seeing how his erection is still visible above his gray pants. I had never seen it like that, so I was quite scared. "I'm sorry."

He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, forgive me" he rests his forehead on my shoulder.

"I'm hot too" I say out of nowhere, without thinking, completely on impulse. Although it's true, I don't know if it's okay to say it like that. He raises his head and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, making a mischievous smile that I had never seen before either.

"Oh really?" he asked surprised. "And what made you like this?"

"The video... and you."

"I?"

"Yes, because I've started thinking about you doing those things to me."

I don't know where I got the courage from, but the truths come out one after another from my mouth. I guess that's how it is when you trust someone to tell them what's happening to you. He runs the tip of his tongue over his lips slowly and deliberately, making me focus on that action. It doesn't go unnoticed by me how quickly his chest rises and falls and I have a hard time not looking down at his erection. His hands find a place on my waist and squeeze each side of it, making my breath hitch. I still have my back turned to him, he can barely see my face in profile. He raises one of his hands, caressing my back until he reaches my hair and pushes it aside, leaving my neck and part of my neck exposed.

"Would you like it...?" he asks close to my ear, shuddering. "Would you like me to do all those things to you?"

"Mhm..." I respond with difficulty, feeling how he begins to distribute kisses on the side of my neck. I feel so many things that I don't know how to explain each one.

"Have you ever fingered yourself?" I shake my head slightly. "And you rubbed like them?" This time I nod. His hands caress my waist with such slowness that it sends shocks throughout my body. "Can you imagine if I touched you like that?" His new deep voice makes me bite my lips just imagining what he proposes. His hands travel to my thighs and gently squeeze the area, giving light caresses. I shift a little, involuntarily bumping my butt against his member. "Jesus..." He presses harder on my thighs and makes a deep sigh leave my lips. I try the movement I made again and I feel the hardness beneath me again that makes me want to move more. I repeat this a couple more times and pull myself back, crashing my back into his chest. I turn my head and begin to kiss him, deepening it with our tongues and feeling some sounds interfere with the kiss.

From afar I hear the key making its way into the lock and I startle, quickly getting up from Chris's lap. I take the first seat I can find and forcefully close the computer. My mother walks through the door and looks at us both with a smile.

"They don't know who they let out early today." she says excitedly, but when he sees us both agitated he frowns. She is all soaked from the terrible storm that continues outside, so she takes off her coat while looking at us confused. "And those faces?"

Chris opens his mouth to answer but I rush to speak because I know his excuses are terrible.

"I just thought you were dad, you know how he gets when he sees that Chris and I are alone."

"Oh yes, it's exaggerated, you know they are children" she says, heading to the kitchen to get a glass and pour herself a glass of juice.

Chris and I looked at each other knowingly and laughed silently, looking at the ground.

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

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#໒✦⋮ 𝟬𝟰𝟮𝟱𝟬𝟮 ༄ ˀˀ #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo soft #christopher sturniolo soft #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo imagine

[howlingday]

on a scale of Gomez Addams to Vernon Dursley (for treatment of Harry not Dudley) where do you think Jaune's dad falls in terms of neglect?

Hm... That's a pretty good scale.

Gomez is especially attentive of his kids, and though his enthusiasm may get taken away when praising one of his kids, he will quickly shift gears to support his other child, though it may take some guidance from his wife, Morticia, like we've seen in the animated series. So, let's put him at... 10.

Vernon Dursley is... clearly at the bottom of the scale, even if his weight scale only shows three digits, considering he puts more attention and care to his biological son than to his adopted son/nephew. Dudley has his own room while Harry sleeps in a storage space under the stairs. To be honest, the only good Dursley in the house is Dudley, though he starts off as an entitled shit, he actually apologizes to Harry later on for how horribly he treated him (sure, I only know this because it's in a deleted scene, but eh). So yeah, 1.

Obviously, there are worse fathers in media, just like there are better fathers in media. Now, let's look at Jaune's dad and... Oh... Uh... It seems he's... misplaced... Not to worry, though! We can just look at what kind of person he was based on what his kids are like.

First off, we have Jaune's dad's "infamous" quote of "all you need is confidence". And I put infamous in quotations because people don't like that this was something he learned from his dad. But, to be honest, I think this is a great first step. Jaune's dad is clearly offering life advice for his son. It's not perfect advice, but it is good advice, especially for a lanky teenager like Jaune who only just decided to become a huntsman.

People will harp on Jaune's dad, saying that he should have trained his son to be a huntsman, but... I don't think Jaune wanted to be a huntsman until he was much older. Ruby, Yang, Weiss, and probably everyone else in the show already had training under their belts from an early age and chose to go to Beacon to continue their training so they can become huntresses. Jaune... didn't, if I'm assuming right. Jaune basically did the same thing as hopping on a bus for boot camp- Wait, no. No, it's more like he jumps into a platoon, SKIPPING boot camp so that he can get that OJT. Then again, there's probably a better analogy for this, but my point is that I don't blame Jaune's inexperience as much on his dad as I do on Jaune himself.

BUT there's also one scene that shows us what kind of parents Jaune's dad AND mom were like. Jaune says in V3 that when he left for Beacon, his parents told him "Hey, if this doesn't work out, you can always come home". Normally, this is common rhetoric for parents telling their kids that they can always fall back to their family whenever they fail. But Jaune interpreted this as "You are going to fail, and we'll see you when you do". Jaune believes his parents don't believe in him, which, if you consider they raised him, they probably have good evidence to believe this.

That said, let's look at how Jaune's sister turned out. Saphron, whom we meet in V6, is a married homemaker mom who opens her home to her brother and his many, many, many friends. That said, I want to take this time to say that if my sister dropped in on me with a dozen people looking to crash for the night, I'm... hesitant... to welcome anyone but her into my home. But Saphron, champion Arc that she is, welcomes everyone. Overall, Saphron seems happy, like, genuinely happy with her son and wife. She even goes along with Jaune's plan to steal the bullhead from Cordovin.

I'm probably speculating here, but I think there's two ways to look at this. You could either see this as "Mama and Papa Arc kicked out their daughter and she's much happier having left them" OR "Papa and Mama Arc raised their kids to rely on each other because family always helps family". Me, I prefer the ladder, and the second of the two options.

So on a scale between "maliciously neglectful papa" and "accidentally neglectful but still well-meaning papa", I would put Papa Arc higher on the scale simply for the fact that Jaune and Saphron don't really have anything to say about their parents being neglectful, intentionally harmful, or in any real negative light. But they still let Jaune run off to be a Huntsman with the family sword, so... 8/10. Good parents, but not perfect. He's no Bandit, that's for sure.

#rwby #papa arc #my thoughts #character analysis #saphron #saphron cotta arc #jaune arc #my answer #my answers #harry potter #the addams #the addams family

[seramilla]

Imagine Vaggie needing proof and when she's looking at the results of the tests that show she is Carmillas daughter she just stares for a long long moment and then she slowly looks up at Carmilla and chokes a bit before eventually asking what this meant...if this meant Carmilla had wanted or loved her and Carmilla just can't help but hug her close and whisper how she had been so wanted so so loved

"Show me."

"What?" Carmilla asks, trying to calm down, and allow Vaggie to calm herself down, as well.

"Show me the results. I need to see with my own eyes. Please!"

Still wiping tears from her eyes, Carmilla complies, and after rummaging around in her bag for a moment, pulls out a few leaflets of paper and hands them to Vaggie. The papers look so...boring and clinical. With a bunch of numbers, symbols, and indices that hold no meaning to Vaggie.

Except the result at the bottom, which is abundantly clear. Probability of parentage: 99.999997%. Vaggie's not a math person, but that seems statistically significant. Basically a certainty. Undeniable.

Vaggie places the papers down on her lap in front of her. She's visibly shaking now. Pushing them further down the bed, she seems to want to get them as far away from her as possible. Her head starts to spin, as she realizes her breathing is labored, like she's hyperventilating. Carmilla seems to recognize it too, because she's by her side in a fraction of a second. A large, strong hand is placed securely on her back, saying, "Breathe, mi querida."

Vaggie wants to tell her to stop calling her that. The test may be undeniable, but she's not...she's not this woman's darling. Not her mija, not her daughter, not anything. They just met barely a month ago. This woman doesn't know anything about her, has no right to be this affectionate, this parental, or...whatever else she feels entitled to.

"Please, stop," Vaggie begs, pleading with Carmilla, and pushing her hand away. "Please, Carmilla."

"I'm sorry," Carmilla says, a huge lump evident in her throat by the way her voice cracks. "I just wanted to...to comfort you."

"What, like a mom would?" Vaggie asks, her voice full of mirth she hadn't realized she'd been harboring. "We may be related, but I don't even know you! You almost left Charlie and me to fend for ourselves during that last Extermination! Now I'm just supposed to let you hug me? Treat me like I belong to you? Like you care?"

"What? No! I didn't know! That's not--!"

"What is it, then? Huh?! What kind of mother puts herself in a position to be killed when she's pregnant? Was I that expendable to you? Did you even care if you survived? If I did?"

"Vaggie, stop it--"

"Did you even want me in the first place?!"

"STOP!"

Carmilla's voice is so loud, it practically shakes the walls of the hospital room. Vaggie shrinks away, folding her small body in on itself out of fear of the woman losing control right in front of her. She covers her eye, expecting to be hit, like Adam or her commander would do sometimes. Her body is tense. She's bracing for it. But when nothing else happens, she opens her eye again, wondering at the impact that never comes.

Instead of an overlord, or a demon standing there, she sees a tired, defeated woman, using every bit of strength she has not to collapse into a heap on the floor in front of her. Carmilla is still crying. She looks back at Vaggie, and takes a few tentative steps toward her. When Vaggie doesn't protest, but looks up at her instead, full of an ache she didn't know needed to be filled, Carmilla collapses on the bed.

Carmilla doesn't ask permission. All of Carmilla's better judgement has already left her body, so everything that comes next is out of pure instinct. She needs Vaggie to understand. If Vaggie would only listen, she would know how much--how long she'd been--

"I'm sorry," Carmilla says, taking Vaggie into her arms, crying openly and longingly into the little angel's soft hair. "I'm so sorry. There's never been a day--a moment that's gone by that I haven't thought about you. Worried about you. Wondered where you'd gone and if you were okay."

Carmilla cradles the back of Vaggie's head tenderly, pulling her closer into her chest, where she used to hold her other girls. Where they'd always felt safest.

"You were always wanted. You were so, so loved. I...we cried for you. Grieved for you. Mourned the person we never knew. Please, Vaggie, believe me. We wanted you so, so much, mija."

Vaggie's not sure if she believes her. Not sure what to think. This is all too soon...too sudden...too much of a shock to her system. She's not even certain if she's in her right mind at this moment.

The emotion in the room is intense. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the last few days, or the pain medications finally kicking in. Whatever the reason, Vaggie grips Carmilla's shirt tightly. So tightly, her nails start to pierce fabric. She sobs into Carmilla's shoulder. Carmilla's shirt is soaked with her tears, but the older woman doesn't seem to care, and holds the fallen angel through it.

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories #vaggie carmilla related au

[citrusbusiness]

Hey it's time for me to rant about mildly annoying things about society and being aro/ace! (Long post warning)

Okay so when I was eating dinner with my parents today and we were talking about our grandparents for a bit. Specifically, my grandma getting sick, and how my uncle traveling around all the time but living with them did not help that. Anyway then I was thinking about him, because he's unmarried with no kids and so is my other uncle. So then I brought up the fact that I have no first cousins, making my one joke about the topic that I'm the onliest only child ever. And we laughed about it for a bit, but then my mom said something else.

“See that's why –and I feel a bit like Jane Austen saying this– that's why you have to get married”

And my aroace brain already did not like that, but obviously I wasn't going to tell her that because I'm not out?? And then my dad then butted in with a joke about the reason being that the family line would end if I didn't, which annoyed me, but interestingly, my mother brushed that aside.

Instead, she said “because when you get old you won't have any siblings or cousins to help you.”

I... Had not been expecting that. So I sat there, not liking where the conversation had gone but not doing anything about it. I just put it aside to rant about later (this is that) and moved on with my evening

But I've come back to it now.

I'm not mad at my mom for telling me that I have to get married. I'm annoyed at my situation and our society for existing in a way where she's right.

I don't have siblings or cousins I'm close with who could help me. The only people I have are my friends, and who knows if I'll still be friends with them? Also, I have maybe one actually aro friend, all the others are highly likely to get into romantic relationships and maybe have children. They'll have their own people to be taking care of. I'm just going to be lower priority, that's how our society works. Hell, with the internet the way that it is, there's no guarantee that I would even live in the same area as most of my friends.

And this isn't even just an old age thing. What happens if I need a serious surgery? What person, with their own job and family and life, has the time to spend taking care of their friend for an extended period of time? I mean, I might, but I don't have the whole romance thing getting in the way.

I realize that I'm being pessimistic and that I should probably have more faith in both my friends and the way the world works. I'm just frustrated that because we place so much more emphasis on romance than we do friendships, once people start pairing up the friendships get left behind a little bit. I'm frustrated that you could make an argument that I might have to get married, not because I truly want to, but for the sake of my own health and comfort in the future. I'm frustrated that someone can say something as uncomfortable to me as “you have to get married,” and still have a decent point.

Again, I'm being a pessimist and I'm not mad at my mom. Or my dad.

…I need more irl aro friends.

#aro #aromanticism #aromantic #aroace #kinda #mostly a post for the aros though #rant post

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

You what I think would be funny for Lilith's plot in S2 in regard to Lute threatening to boot her out of Heaven if she doesn't stop Charlie? Is if Lilith willingly moves back to Hell and joins Charlie's mission at the start of the season. Assuming she isn't staying up there as part of some long-term plan and really is just a political prisoner of sorts, she'd actually be relieved to be told she could actually leave Heaven and be with her family. All the drama around her being on Heaven's side as a threat to the Hotel and the first episode just has her pack all her stuff up, flips Lute off with both middle fingers, and just shows up at the Hotel screaming "momma's home!"

I don't know if that's actually the direction they'll go with Lilith given the overarching mystery surrounding her character, but I just think it would be hilarious if that's how S2 starts.

That would be hilarious. I been headcanon that Lilith had to stay in Heaven as some political plot. Not quite a prisoner...yet still is one. Like a lesser version of prison...like a house arrest but not in your own house.

But with Lute going to Lilith and basically telling her to go home and discipline that kid! I never thought of it like that before. But its funny. Lilith probably..oh go to the place I been wanting to return to for 7 years? Don't have to tell me twice. Picking up a "home sweet home" decoration on her way back.

Lilith being this whole mystery who set up to be fiercely independent then season two she be the stereotypical basic white girl and/or tv mom. "Who wants fresh baked cookies!". Live laugh love sign hung somewhere in the parlor of the hotel when she return. Being overly motherly and wifey to overcompensate when she was gone.

I don't think that will happen either but it be amusing.

The thing I think with about Lilith deal with Adam is Lute obviously knows about the deal...because of how season one ended. But lute doesn't exactly know what's the deal is exactly. Lute knows about the deal and the light gist of it. But not the finer details or the why. So Lute ordering Lilith around could very well be a great undoing (against heaven?) unbeknownst to Lute.

I do hope when she appear, she has a similar entrance to the hotel as Alastor in the pilot. I think it be a fun callback/parallel

*knock knock knock. Charlies open the door.*

Lilith: Hel-!

*Charlie slams the door shut in complete disbelief on what she seen. There's no way her mom standing on the other side of the door. Its some hopeful hallucination. Charlie opens the door again and Lilith is still standing on the other side.*

Lilith: -Lo!

*Charlie slams the door again.* "My mom here!" She said stunned.

"Oh my gosh...my mom actually here!!!" Charlie said gleefully in her rapid growing excitement. *Vaggie in the background in disbelief. "Wait...what...seriously?"

Charlie slaps her hands over her cheeks and drag her cheeks roughly down in horror and panics.* "I slammed the door in her face. Vaggie! what do I do?!!?"

Vaggie: "You let her in!"

*Charlie opens the door after trying to compose herself a little. After all, shes a grown woman now wanting to appease her mother by her behavior despite slamming the door in her face*

Lilith: "May I come home now?"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin thoughts #hazbin theory #lilith #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin lilith #lilith morningstar #char #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie morningstar #Lute #hazbin lute #lute #hazbin hotel lute #vagg #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie

[boilingrain]

There’s something silly to me about Bluestar x Yellowfang

It’s just “yeah Firestar’s moms should date”

Old women with tragic backstories and the very orange boy they separately adopted

#it's a great ship I love it #listen you can claim Bluestar wasn't a maternal figure to Firestar & that she was just his mentor but you can't do that with Yellowfang #She canonically tells Fireheart that she wishes he was her son #That's not a thing left up to reader interpretation or anything. The direct quote (from Rising Storm) is #''I wished you'd been my son but I could not have borne a cat like you.'' #(there's more to the quote but I can't fit all of it in the character limit of the tags) #(or technically I could but it would have to be several tags and I don't feel like doing that) #she also says ''I only regret that I will miss watching you become what Starclan has destined you to be.'' to him in that same bit of dialo #that is his mom. Like you cannot reasonably deny that #I'm going to shut myself up now before I actually write an entire essay about Yellowfang in the tags of this post #because I know myself and I know I'd do it #Warrior Cats #yellowfang #bluestar #bluestar x yellowfang #blueyellow #(I think that's their ship name?) #(I'd make a joke about how we should just call it ''Green'' but I'm sure that joke has been made already) #and because I mentioned Starclan's most special little orange boy #wc firestar #firestar #honestly if I ever decide to do fun character tags that's what Firestar's will be

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

#oh wow... #i just had an oh shit fuck moment #wow #i usually complain about the one therapist i had in my entire life and how she wouldn't just listen to what i was saying #if it didn't fit her textbook definition of whatever she was thinking at the time #and how i talked to her about my anxiety and how that made me feel and she would only focus on how i acted #so the example i gave her was the one time i went into a shop to buy something by myself #because my mom didn't want to go in for me and arguing with my mom in front of the shop in public and then inevitably have to #go in myself either way was way worse to me #because of the embarrassement of arguing in public. the fact that my mom was gonna spend the entire walk home telling me how i have to #''just suck it up and learn and just overcome my anxiety because i don't have a problem'' or whatever #and then having to go into the shop where the lady had been watching me from inside the entire time how i clearly didn't want to go in #and possibly be even more awkward with teary eyes because of the anxiety and awkwardness i already bring to the table any day... #all of those things that were going inside my head were trumped by the fact that i did go in and did buy what i needed #although my heart was coming out of my chest the entire time... all that didn't matter to my therapist because in her words: #''if you had anxiety. you simply wouldn't have gone in'' #which is ridiculous #but anyways... i just had an epiphany... that was masking wasn't it? #forcing myself to do something that brings me major discomfort to make my mother and the shop lady not judge me? #pretend i'm a normal human being just doing normal things instead of someone who's about to have a heart attack buying embroidery thread? #panicking the entire time because i wasn't prepeared and hadn't scripted the entire transaction in my head? #yet still going in and putting on my ''normal person'' mask to try to seem like i wasn't just dying seconds ago (and still was)? #isn't that literally what masking is?! #and the ''autism specialist'' ass therapist was like ''if you did it then you don't have a problem'' #when i'm literally telling her how much of a problem it actually WAS?! #you know what's the best part about all this #that when i told my mom after i left that therapist that she didn't listen to me because [insert everything above] #my mom's response was ''well sometimes therapist will say things that you don't want to hear but you have to accept them''.... #same woman who's always saying how much she hates therapists because they ''will say whatever and pretend they know shit'' #ok so it's only The Truth when I tell you it isn't...

[isfjmel-phleg]

😶

#random personal stuff #I have just made arrangements for a trip that I know my mom would like to take too #to go to my late aunt's memorial #and I was really hoping Mom would come too #but it's like she's looking for every excuse not to make arrangements #says she doesn't want to ask my dad because he's sick/stressed/etc. #so she probably won't go but will later bemoan that she couldn't and I will feel like a heel for going #at least...I hope not but I suspect from long experience that this is how it will go down #I am this close to just calling Dad myself and asking for her and offering to help out #but that would be interfering #wish I could tell her to just communicate with Dad anyway #better to get it settled than assume anything and miss out #sorry you don't need to know this but I'm telling you anyway #this is an awkward position to be in with our family dynamics

[mars-ipan]

overcoming anxiety (through practicing the things that scare you) is so interesting. i used to be horrified of taking up space or alerting other people of my presence. now i'm compelled to tell strangers i like their outfits or hair or earrings- on bad days i tell maybe a quarter of them. do i still overthink it? absolutely. but i call attention to myself to tell someone else my opinion. and with the way they tend to smile and tell me "thank you!" i'm pretty sure it's taken to heart.

i used to be horrified of making phone calls as well. this is one i'm still getting over- i just Don't Like Doing It. i used to have a phone call routine that i still joke about- realize i need to call someone, cry, avoid it for a few days, suck it up, write a script, memorize the script, cry again, final script read, make the call with the script in front of me. and i would be Exhausted by the end of it. i don't cry when i need to call people anymore. i'm even needing scripts less and less- i've found out that people actually won't kill me if i talk a little too fast or stumble on my words. i doubt i'll ever like making phone calls- i especially hate robots (i'm afraid they'll mishear me and direct me wrong or a person will suddenly show up and i won't be prepared)- but i can make them now.

i get overwhelmed really easy. just a thing that happens to me. my brain is really really good at taking one task and breaking it up into thousands of little tasks and it feels like i'm drowning. if i try to make it fewer larger tasks then it starts to feel insurmountable. i was completely lost on how to deal with this (other than avoid until you get that panic attack and can do work in the post-catharsis calm until 6:00 AM) until one night when my dad (who i often meet late at night due to overlapping mental illness symptoms) asked me how to eat an elephant. i looked at him, confused, and he said "one bite at a time." that was way more effective than any other analogy i've seen has been. "light at the end of a tunnel"- i don't feel like i'm moving forward, i feel like i'm scaling a wall. "steps on a trail"- i can see my destination, but it feels impossible to move forward. but eating an elephant? that sums it up perfectly. this huge task which seems impossible at a glance. but it must be done. so you eat the elephant, a bite at a time. every time i'm overwhelmed i repeat that phrase to myself. it hasn't made any major changes yet, but it keeps me calm enough to start before i hit the panic attack, which i'll take.

i was such a perfectionist growing up- i actually thought it was a good thing (school always taught me to strive for perfection). but it made me scared to try new things- if i wasn't immediately good at them, then it clearly wasn't for me. i'm still not great at starting new hobbies, but i try a lot of new things within the hobbies i already have. i test out different ways of making art, i try new puzzle games i don't understand, etc. and the feeling of steady improvement reminds me that i don't need to be good right away. some of the most satisfying moments don't come from immediately being good- they come from achieving that skill over time. i'd like to try to learn to sew soon.

idk it's interesting. i rewire my own brain's fear response by doing the Horrifying Thing enough times for me to understand that no i will not die. and while i'm doing it it feels like nothing is changing. i get so stressed every time- it can actually take a lot out of me (turns out fight-or-flight burns a lot of energy). but i look back at then vs. now and i realize how far i've come, and i can't help but think "huh. neat"

#marzi speaks #this post has no point. i am simply thinking out loud #i think understanding the root of where the anxiety comes from helps a lot too #like. my mom feels most secure when she's in control #she doesn't like situations in which she can't control how she responds or what happens when she does #it makes her feel helpless. and that's how her GAD affects her #it's also why her fear response is 'fight'- she stress-cleans and expresses authority because those are things she can control #it's a self-soothing technique #but for me it's different. i'm most at ease when i know where i am and what's going on #this could be for plenty of reasons. i'm bad at directions and time blind so i feel lost easily #i had to learn to do a lot of things by myself growing up because my brother needed a bit of extra attention #my parents used to sometimes forget to tell me about things- i wouldn't know we were going somewhere until they asked me if i was ready #or even just that i was always surrounded by so much information and i love learning with my whole heart #when i can't know what will happen next or why something's happening in the first place i get disoriented and frightened #i don't need to have a say in what will happen. i just need to know. then i can roll with the punches #this is why MY fear responses are flight and freeze #i self-isolate because i know environments like my room and my mind #other people are unpredictable. i know what i will do #i like puzzles because they're something i can learn and figure out. once i understand it's a matter of patterns #and they take my mind off of the unknown i'm worried about #my mom will engage in a lot of conflict behavior. i engage in a lot of avoidant behavior #yes this caused arguments growing up lmao. i'd be freaking out abt smth and she'd be confused as to why i wasn't just going and fixing it #or she'd be freaking out abt smth and i'd be confused as to why she didn't try to just get all the facts #but we're better communicators abt that now teehee #it's interesting though. we have the same illness (generalized anxiety disorder) and are similar in a lot of ways #but because our root fears are different our responses to them are different #this could also be learned #my mom grew up poor and didn't get to do a lot- she worked her ass off to have financial freedom #i grew up comfortable with every question i asked entertained by two very smart parents. when a question can't be answered i feel dissonant #it's probably a bit of both in some cyclical manner. still nifty to think about

[hidendumbassvillage]

.

#don't mind me #i've built wall so high around myself that when I called my mom crying this afternoon i couldn't even tell her it's because i wanted to end #physically breaking down and yet i still can't let down my walls #now my dad is coming home and we'll have a talk together but I have no idea how to handle the situation #he's never come close to my walls #i'm pretty sure my walls are hiding a pit of emptyness btw #i feel like i'm being attributed feelings by other and I'm so used to saying “yes that's how I feel” when in reality idek #i'm not sure i've been really deeply honest with my psych but I can't open up in 30 minutes same problem as always #i can't even tell him that i need his help figuring out whether i'm on the spectrum or not (i just need to know) #don't rb ovbiously #not naruto

[uzu-hime]

So like legit how does one make friends when they are

-too adhd for normal people

-too depressed for adhd people

-poor (no money to do things or go places)

-25 on the outside, single mom for 10+ years on the inside

-so so lonely but so so afraid of adding anyone else to the "only want to hang out with me when you need free therapy" group that includes everyone I know

#i want friends #but i don't know how to make them #or where to find them #im too weird for a lot of people and too introverted for others #and for some reason everyone i do befriend always ends up being basically my therapy patient #or they only ever want to hang out on their terms which... don't exist #side eyes my friend who always says 'i miss you guys we should hang out' in the group chat but then turns me down #for her boyfriend every single time i try to make plans #'he works night shift i have to clean during the day' girl are you his girlfriend or his maid?? #if you don't want to hang out with me just fucking tell me instead of playing cinderella all the time #my mom says i should get out more and do more things but honestly i live in bumfuck ohio #what things???? #rural america is a nightmare for being social if you don't have money and also don't want to hang out at your local high school #i can't even go to the park in town by myself because too many women have been abducted there #im not making this shit up #i just want someone to sing silly songs with me and try on stupid outfits just for fun and go to new restaurants #no one has ever heard of and sit in the woods in silence for a while and maybe take a nap together and compare grov #*grocery lists and just. #why is it so hard #what is wrong with me that the only friends i have only like me sometimes #even my mom who likes me all the time won't even go shopping with me anymore #she's too burnt out from working #maybe it's not me #maybe im just another victim of capitalist america's isolation #even then i don't know what to do about it. my cat helps but im still just. lonely. #im tired of being lonely #vent post #ignore me

[da-proti-toku-grem]

feeling like a total asshole today 👍

#an aunt's mom passed away yesterday night #i didn't really know her that much just spoke to her a few times for the typical merry christmas & happy new year you know #so when my mom told me i felt bad for my aunt bc i knew they were really close but i don't feel SAD #but my parents seemed to be like so shocked and sad and my little brother even started crying #and i felt absolutely nothing #idek what my mom saw in my face but she went like 'don't you feel anything?' and like wtf am i supposed to feel #like. i'm sorry for my aunt and everything but i just????? #that already made me feel like an absolute asshole but now we have to go there (like 2hours away by car) #and because i am an adult now i *have* to go to the funeral home (?) today and to the funeral tomorrow #and i REALLY don't want to and thought it's making me so fucking anxious bc i haven't been there since my grandma passed away 2 years ago #i really don't want that feeling that i felt back then to come back #not right now #not when i've been starting to feel a bit better this past week #but i'm already failing at that because they started to come back the moment i was told i have to go #and i feel like a fucking asshole because my aunt's mom literally passed away and she (and her whole family) must be heartbroken right now #and all i can think about is that i'm anxious #i'm anxious to go back there. i'm anxious just thinking that i'll have to express my condolences to people that i don't even know #i'm anxious because i'll have to TALK to people and at least try to look a bit SAD but i can't just fake it #bc if i don't look sad my brain tells me that i'm an asshole that doesn't have feelings like apparently everyone around me has #but if i fake it my brain tells me that i'm an asshole bc why tf do i have to fake my fucking personality #why can't i just express my fucking feelings like normal people do and the only thing that i know how to do is fucking complain #like. i know i rant a lot here but it's literally the only place where i talk about my feelings #i NEVER talk about my feelings with anyone because idk HOW to do it #i have like a million things in my mind that i want to tell my mom or my therapy for example but when i finally convince myself to do it #i just CAN'T. the thoughts won't leave my mouth because i don't know how to phrase them properly #so nothing ever leaves my mind unless i make a post here bc apparently writing my thoughts in english (my 2nd language) #is easier than talking in spanish #and at least if i write them here they don't just stay bottled up in my mind #but i'm too tired of myself and my stupid brain that tells me that i do everything wrong :/ #i'm gonna shut up now bc i once again reached the tag limit

[doom-dreaming]

how do i tell my mother that coming into my room calling me "lazybones" if i'm still in bed at any time past 7 a.m. for YEARS has done near-irreparable damage to my self-esteem and created shame about being able to just fucking relax?

#but she can rot on the couch playing mahjong on her ipad all day it's fine #i don't feel at all angry when i come home dirty and tired from work #and she tells me i'm making dinner #while she sits curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and a book #sure mom. let me just take a shower and i'll get right on that #but please do let me know how hungry you are five times while i'm trying to scrape together some energy #i need to get out of this house #some small part of me kinda hopes she just doesn't come back from vacation #and. and . #as i'm giving her a VERY NICE vacation pedicure last night #she goes 'hey could i maybe use your hardcase on this trip? it'd just be easier in a customs search' #oh the brand new really nice hardcase suitcase that you got me for my birthday? that one? #not one of the four other suitcases you own? #sure. go ahead and take it #anythign else i can get you queen? #my belongings are not my own #my life is not my own #my time is not my own #yes i know i have control issues but i think i've earned them a little bit #i never learned to set boundaries and could never say no to my mom without being reprimanded #and i feel like a shell of a person because she's belittled my individuality if it doesn't conform to her worldview #and i feel like i'm dangling this husk in front of people and saying 'yep this is me. my whole essence' #all because i can't say no to her taking my fucking suitcase like it was never really mine to begin with #like she's just entitled to all my shit #i'm fine. i have a meeting with my therapist next week. i'm fine.