imma say it. “kung fu panda” did more for body positivity and saying that you can be fat and still be healthy and liked than ANYTHING any beauty companies trying to get your money.
Hey yknow how Viper was born without fangs, but instead of being rendered helpless as her family thought she’d be, she instead used her other skills to become the best warrior in her clan?
And how Tigress had severe, destructive anger issues when she was younger, but instead of being painted as a “problem child” she was instead taught her how to channel her emotions into something constructive?
And how Crane trained extra hard to impress a girl, and was by all rights the hero of his own story, but he still didn’t get her in the end? And how the girl isn’t shamed for it?
It’s almost as if you get more mileage out of treating your characters (and the people they resemble) with compassion than you do just shamelessly stamping them with your own misconceptions and hang ups.
Thank you for all the interaction and kindness on my last post!
My name is Margaux and I am also known as Retrophiliac. I am Autistic, OCD, ADHD - I have Anxiety as well. I am self employed and an activist and advocate based out of western Canada. One of my pins is even in the Museum of Vancouver's openMOV!
I design pins, patches, stickers, keychains, magnets and so much more.
The items have a disability, neurodiversity, autistic focus - as well as really cute retro inspired designs.
I am on Etsy and I also have my own shop Shop best for USA & Canada.
Etsy will handle VAT, VOSS and IOSS for international orders.
But it's entirely up to you. My shopretrophiliac site has a larger selection including fidgets.
I also post frequently on instagram, facebook and tiktok.
P.S:
I run a few awesome facebook groups:
Made by Autistics Marketplace and Community
Autistic inclusive dating and friends
Neurodivergent Skills Connect
Disabled Entrepreneurs/Self Employed in British Columbia
Summary: Elliot's temper and anger issues force a wedge between the two of you. You ask for a separation in the hopes that it pushes him to get the help he needs.
Warnings: Separation and talks of divorce. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), not super descriptive...this is about love making and connection.
"That tension in your jaw? Your vein pulsing in your forehead? The way you clench your hands into tight fists? It's rage, Elliot. Pure, intense rage."
"How the hell would you know how I'm feeling, huh? Are you psychic now?" he yelled.
"I can read the cues, Elliot. And I know you, better than anyone else. If you keep bottling it up, eventually you're going to explode. God only knows who you'll take with you when you do."
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?!"
"It doesn't matter how many times you say it!" you yelled back. "A blind man can see you're not okay."
"You think because you're a shrink you know everything?"
"When it comes to you, I'm your wife, not a shrink. But I can't turn it off, Elliot. You need help."
"Screw you, (Y/N)."
He started to walk out the door and you felt your heart clench in your chest. You knew if he left, there was a good chance something terrible would happen.
"Just answer one question," you begged, stopping him in his tracks. "How many times have you thought about eating your gun?"
For the first time since the argument had begun, Elliot was speechless. You had never asked him that before and he didn't know how to answer you. He didn't know how to tell you that he thought about it all the time. He didn't know how to tell you that he'd almost made you a widow more times than he could count.
Even when he wasn't thinking about killing himself, he was making decisions that put him in danger...way beyond the typical line of duty scenarios. He put himself in harm's way so often it had almost become second nature. He tried never to think about you getting a knock on the door...his partner and his captain telling you he was gone.
If he thought about those things, then he couldn't be reckless. He couldn't make those poor choices. As it stood, those choices were already killing him inside. He'd pulled away from you long before you'd put the separation on the table. What was the point in hurting you more than he already had?
"Suicide's a sin," he mumbled.
"This isn't about religion. This is about you and the choices you make."
When he turned to look at you, his eyes were haunted--filled with a pain so deep you couldn't begin to comprehend it. You took a step towards him, desperate not to lose him. "Talk to me, Elliot. Just talk to me."
His heart ached hearing you plead like that. It wasn't in your nature to beg, and here you were begging for the second time in less than a minute. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth," you pleaded.
To your surprise, he turned around, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and ran his fingers over his face, emotion covering every inch of it. "You don't just wanna leave and get this over with?"
"Is that really what you want me to do? Do you I believe I think so little of our marriage?"
"No," he whispered, almost inaudibly.
"Then for once, Elliot, please. Just be honest with me."
He stared at the floor for several moments before deciding to answer you, eyes never leaving the ground. "I think about it all the time, but I'm more inclined to be reckless than I am to eat my own gun."
You were taken aback by his words. You hadn't really expected him to be honest with you and you certainly hadn't expected him to give you that answer.
"Do you want to fix this?" you asked softly, unsure if you really wanted the answer.
He finally looked up at you. "I don't wanna lose you."
"Then get help."
**********
It had been six long months since you'd begged Elliot to get help. Six months since you'd told him you wanted to separate. Six months since you'd taken the kids and moved in with your sister.
You only saw Elliot on weekends when he came to pick up the kids, and even then it was only briefly. The only news you ever got about him came from Olivia when she would call you to give you an update.
You'd never wanted to split up...never wanted a divorce...never wanted to lose him. But you had to protect yourself and your kids. Plus, you wanted to shock him into getting help. Asking for a separation was the only thing you could think of to push him into finally talking to someone.
You had no idea if he was going to therapy or not. He'd never told you and you didn't ask. For the first time in 15 years, you felt like it wasn't your place to pry. If he wanted to open up to you, then he would do it on his own.
You were sitting at your desk, thinking about the past, remembering things you'd long since forgotten. Most of your memories with Elliot were good, but this wasn't a happy trip down memory lane.
You remembered when you got pregnant with your first child. Elliot had just joined the NYPD and you were settling into your new job with the FBI as a forensic psychiatrist.
When Elliot found out you were pregnant, he was thrilled...but as the days went on, his mood shifted. You started to worry about whether he actually wanted this baby or not, a concern you'd never had before.
One day, you finally gathered the courage to ask him what was going on. "El...do you not want this baby?" you'd whispered.
He'd been shocked. "Of course I do, doll! You know I've always wanted a family, especially with you."
"Then why don't you seem happy?"
He'd grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. A look of sadness had crossed over his features and he whispered his biggest fear aloud for only you and God to hear, "What if I'm like my dad?"
You knew his past. You knew how his father had treated him. What was worse was you knew exactly how badly it had damaged him. But you also knew him.
"If I know anything for certain, I know this," you began. You gently lifted his chin so he was looking into your eyes. "You are not your father. You are kind, loving, and gentle...and I know you're going to treat this baby as reverently as you treat me."
The memory almost hurt to think about now. You hadn't been wrong...Elliot was nothing like his father, but he'd carried that hurt with him for almost 40 years. It affected him in ways even he didn't want to admit.
You sighed loudly, trying to will the memory away. You didn't want to think about it anymore.
"Am I interrupting?"
You looked up with a smile. "Never. What's up?"
Your partner and close friend, George Huang, entered your office. "I heard the dramatic sigh. You okay?"
You shrugged. "Taking a trip down memory lane. It's nothing."
He gave you a look that said he wasn't at all convinced, but he didn't pry. "How are the kids?"
"They're all doing really well, considering. The twins keep asking when daddy is coming home."
He nodded his understanding. "And how is Elliot?"
"You'd know better than me. You're the one that sees him all the time."
"Only because you refuse to go to the precinct."
"It would be awkward and you know it."
He sighed. "Do you want my opinion?"
You groaned. "Professional or friend?"
"A little of both."
"Fine--go on."
He sat down in the chair closest to your desk. "He's different, (Y/N/N). Anyone can see that he's trying and the whole squad has noticed it, myself included. As your friend, I really think you should talk to him."
"What if he doesn't wanna talk to me?"
Huang gave you a look that said it all. "If you don't know how much that man loves you, then you're an idiot." He held up his hand to stop your protest. "And I know you're not an idiot. Talk to him, (Y/N/N). He needs you."
He got up and left your office without another word, leaving you to sit there and think about what you were gonna do next.
**********
It took a couple weeks, but you finally decided to take Huang's advice. You'd called Elliot and asked him to meet you for dinner at a little diner near the office.
You arrived about 10 minutes early and to your surprise, Elliot had already gotten a table and was waiting for you. It was very unlike him to be on time...let alone early.
He stood up when he saw you walk in, but when you reached the table, it became evident he didn't know what to do.
"Can I hug you?" he asked softly.
You nodded and offered him a small smile. He pulled you against him tightly and held on, as if he was terrified of letting go.
You pulled away and gestured for him to sit back down. You slid into the booth across from him and began to study him. You knew you shouldn't...but you wanted--needed--to know where his head was.
He actually looked shockingly good, better than he had in a long time. His eyes were clear and bright, and the bags that had once lingered under them were gone. He was clean shaven and his hair had recently been trimmed. All in all, he looked healthy and perhaps even happy.
"You look good," you commented softly.
"So do you."
You knew for a fact you did not look good...but you appreciated the lie. Being apart from him for so long had really taken its toll on you, as had taking care of the kids by yourself. You were tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically.
You looked down at the clothes you were wearing and felt a twinge of embarrassment. Your shirt was more wrinkled than you would have liked and you were pretty sure you'd accidentally gotten bleach on your black pants, as evidenced by the odd reddish stain you hadn't noticed that morning. You'd come straight to the diner from work, so you hadn't had time to change.
"I look like I slept on a park bench last night," you grumbled as you tried to smooth down your shirt.
Elliot chuckled, the sound clear and crisp. "You look as beautiful as the day I met you...cheesy as that may sound."
You blushed. "It ranks up there with cheesiest comments you've ever made."
He smiled. "It's nice to see you, (Y/N)," he said softly. "I mean really see you."
You simply nodded. You weren't quite ready to talk about the separation yet. "How have you been?"
He sighed, noting your subtle avoidance. "It was hard at first--really damn hard--but I'm actually doing pretty well now." He paused. "I, uh--I started seeing a therapist."
Your face lit up in surprise. You hadn't expected him to be honest with you so quickly. "Really? That's great."
"Yeah, it's actually been surprisingly helpful. I feel like I've broken down a lot of those barriers I had up, ya know? It was awful at first, but once I started talking, it was like I couldn't stop. For a while there, I was going twice a week. Now I'm down to biweekly and the doc says I'll probably be able to go to once a month soon."
You felt a little jolt of pride warm your chest. You were proud of him for owning his issues and for working to make himself better. All you ever wanted was for him to start to heal...if he couldn't talk to you, then he might as well talk to someone who could help him.
"George mentioned you'd been going to therapy. He said you were doing really well."
His expression soured slightly. "Huang told you?"
"He is my partner, you know." You sighed. "If it makes you feel better, he only told me a couple weeks ago."
"It's not that I didn't want you to know or anything...I just kinda wanted to be the one to tell you."
"When were you planning on telling me, El?"
"I don't know...I figured I'd just mention it when I picked up or dropped off the kids."
"You've been going to therapy for how long?"
"Almost 7 months."
"I'm proud of you, Elliot, I really am. But I wish you would have told me sooner."
"I'm sorry."
Your eyes widened slightly. "I...I can't remember the last time you apologized to me for something."
He looked down at the table. "I know. It's one of things we've been working on."
"I appreciate your apology," you whispered. "It's just--If I'd known about the therapy, I probably would have arranged this meeting sooner."
"Really?"
He seemed genuinely surprised and it broke your heart a little. "I missed you, El. Every single moment of every day for the last 7 months."
His eyes widened in surprise. "I--I didn't know."
A look of hurt flashed across your face.
"I just figured you wanted to get away from me," he said quickly. "I mean, you're the one who asked for the separation."
You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "I never intended to hurt you, Elliot. I just wanted you to get the help you needed. I..." you sighed. "I missed the man I love, the man I married, the wonderful loving husband and father...I just wanted him back."
He squeezed your hand. "I didn't even realize how far away I'd gotten from the person I was, but when I did, it was too late. You'd already pulled away and then we had that big fight and that was it...you moved out and I had to try and piece my life back together."
You swallowed thickly. "Something needed to get your attention, Elliot. My words weren't enough. I asked for the separation because I thought it would force you to get help. I never intended to take it any farther than that."
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I know," he whispered against your skin. "I think it saved me, (Y/N)--I really do."
"I'm glad, El. I really am." I just hope it saves us.
As if he read your mind, he spoke your thought into existence, "I hope it's enough to save us, baby. I still love you more than anything in this life."
Your heart skipped a beat just like it used to when you were young and madly in love with the man sitting across from you. "Nothing's changed for me. I love you more now than I ever have."
"Even after everything I've done? Everything I've said? All those times I let my temper get the best of me?"
"Even after all of that."
"I'm not sure I deserve it."
"You have my love and my forgiveness, Elliot. They're mine to give and I give them to you freely," you said gently. "It may surprise you, but I always knew why your temper was so intense, why you'd fly off the handle at the smallest thing...but you never wanted to open up to me, so I couldn't help you. I did the only thing I could think of to help you help yourself."
"I'll be forever grateful, (Y/N)."
"Me too."
He looked at you quizzically, so you elaborated.
"I'm grateful for your strength, your perseverance...for your willingness to change. And I will always be grateful for your love."
"It means a lot to me, (Y/N/N)."
"I always had faith in you, El."
He smiled, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something more...something that was clearly bothering him.
Much to your surprise, you didn't have to prod him for answers. "What about us, (Y/N)?"
"I always hoped the separation would be temporary."
"We were broken long before the separation, doll. As much as I don't want to admit it, it's the truth."
A look of sadness crossed your face. "I know."
"Can we fix it?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.
"I'll never stop trying," you whispered back. "I'm not ready to give up on us, Elliot."
"Neither am I. I never wanna lose you," he admitted. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."
"I think this is a good start," you responded softly.
"Forgiveness," he said simply. "Forgive ourselves and each other."
You nodded. "Forgiveness."
The two of you spent several hours at the diner--talking, eating, laughing, even crying. It felt good to be with each other like this...to hash out so many things that needed to be said, deal with all the things that needed to be handled.
Before you knew it, your watch read 10pm. You hadn't even realized you'd been siting there for so long. "Shit, it's 10! The kids will probably already be in bed."
Elliot looked at his watch in surprise. "I didn't even realize it was so late. Stay here--I'll go pay the bill and then I'll walk you out."
A few minutes later, he came back to the table to get you.
"Where'd you park?"
"I took the subway, actually."
"Oh, um...can I at least drive you home? Or if you don't want me to do that, I can call you a cab--"
"I would love if you took me home," you said, cutting him off.
He seemed relieved. He hated the idea of you being out late at night, completely alone. He couldn't guarantee you'd be safe in a cab anymore than the subway. "My car's this way."
He started walking down the sidewalk and you fell in step beside him. It was a chilly evening and you'd been completely unprepared for the drop in temperature. After a few minutes, you started to shiver, the cold cutting right through your thin shirt.
Elliot took notice immediately. "Take my jacket, baby. It's cold." He started to shrug it off and before you could protest, he cut you off. "You're freezing, so take the jacket. No fuss."
You accepted it gratefully, the warmth flooding your body the moment you put it on. "Thank you," you said softly.
"You're welcome."
As you continued to walk, his scent washed over you with every breath you took. His jacket smelled like him and it enveloped you in a warm cocoon of Elliot. His scent was even more intoxicating than you were used to, perhaps because you hadn't smelled it in so long.
You tentatively brushed your hand against his, gauging his reaction to the touch. Unlike you, he didn't hesitate--he intertwined his fingers with yours in such a familiar way, it almost made you cry. You hadn't realized how much you'd missed this...all those little things the two of you stopped doing ages ago. All the little ways you showed love or affection had seemingly died off, but what scared you most was that you hadn't really noticed.
"When did we stop touching each other?" you whispered aloud.
"What?"
You hadn't even realized you'd said anything out loud until he spoke. "Oh--I was umm...I was just wondering when we stopped being affectionate? I--well, I don't remember the last time we held hands."
His eyes darkened with sorrow. "Neither do I. I can't pinpoint an exact moment--all I know is that I missed this. So much."
"I missed you," you whispered. "In all the ways you can miss someone."
You'd just reached his car when you stopped talking. Elliot opened the door for you, but you didn't get in. He'd always been good at reading you, just as you were good at reading him. Years of loving someone will do that to you.
He took a step towards you so his body was mere inches away from yours. You looked up at him and your breath caught in your chest. As you stood there feeling like a love-struck teenager, all you could think was please kiss me.
As if Elliot heard your thoughts, he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours with a tenderness you'd long since forgotten. Your hands rested on his hips and you pulled him closer to you, desperate to feel his warmth.
The tenderness quickly turned to something darker, something more primal. You needed him--and he needed you--like a drowning man needs oxygen. He was your drug of choice, always had been, and you knew you'd never be able to quit him.
Elliot pressed his body up against yours, leaning you back against the frame of the car. He held onto you, lips parting to deepen the kiss.
You needed to breathe and you suspected he did too, but in that moment, nothing else mattered. It was you and him, locked in a passionate embrace you never wanted to end.
But it had to end eventually--the survival instinct kicked in and you pulled away from each other, completely breathless. You both sucked in air desperately as he leaned his forehead against yours.
"Baby..." he whispered.
"Take me home," you begged.
He pulled away instantly, a look of hurt crossing his handsome face. "I'm sorry, (Y/N/N), I didn't mean to--I shouldn't have--"
You grabbed him and tugged him to you so you could kiss him again. When you let him go, he stared at you in stunned silence. "Take me home, Elliot. Please."
He started to smile as the realization crossed his face. He'd thought you were asking him to take you to your sister's...not home. "You've got it, doll."
You smiled warmly as he helped you into the car before practically running to the driver's side. You chuckled lightly, his haste making you roll your eyes affectionately.
As soon as he was in the car, he was off--speed limit be damned.
"Babe, if you wreck this car, I swear..."
He laughed. "I won't, I promise. I just need to get my girl home, okay? She asked so nicely."
You chuckled again. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way--like a giddy schoolgirl or a horny teenager. As opposed as you were to breaking traffic laws, you decided to let it slide this time--the need to get home as soon as possible was really all you could think about.
In what had to be record-breaking time, Elliot pulled into the driveway of the home the two of you had shared together for almost 10 years. You hadn't been inside in months, but right now there was only one room you cared to see.
Elliot didn't even make it around the front of the car before you were closing your door and making your way to the house. He chuckled lightly as he ran after you, arms snaking around your waist to you pull you back against his chest.
"What's the rush, baby?"
"I need you, Elliot, and I need you now. Are you really gonna make me wait?"
The dark, seductive tone in your voice nearly brought him to his knees. "No ma'am," he insisted. Then he scooped you up like he did when you were both a lot younger and carried you to the door like you were his brand new blushing bride.
"Elliot!" you yelled, laughter clouding your voice. "Put me down! You're gonna strain your back."
He laughed too, but he didn't put you down. "Don't underestimate my strength, baby. Besides, you're light as a feather."
"You lie, but I love it."
He grinned as he carried you across the threshold. "I would never."
Instead of putting you down once you were inside the house, he continued to carry you towards the stairs. "Absolutely not!"
"I'm not gonna drop you."
"No, but we might fall down the stairs!" You started to squirm to make your point.
"Fine, fine. But only because trying to hold onto you now would probably be a death sentence." He sat you down gently. "Crazy woman," he teased as he leaned in to kiss you.
"Lock the door and meet me upstairs," you said before running up the steps to your bedroom.
He grinned ear to ear, and made sure to lock the front door before racing after you.
When he reached the bedroom you'd shared for almost a decade, his heart skipped a beat at the sight before him. Somehow in the 10 second head start you'd had, you managed to get down to nothing but your bra and panties. You were laying on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly, a look of heady desire on your face.
"Aren't you gonna come in?"
Elliot smiled and stepped into the room. "I was just admiring the view."
You smirked. "See something you like?"
"I see someone I love."
Your expression softened and you reached out for him. "Come here, baby."
He slipped his shoes off and made his way over to the bed.
"Wait--maybe take off your shirt and pants first."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Unless you want me to rip them off."
He laughed. "As sexy as that might be, I don't want to be vacuuming up buttons for the next month."
You laughed softly and watched as he quickly undressed. "Lose the undershirt too, while you're at it."
"When did you get to be so demanding?" he teased before complying with your request.
"You love it," you teased back.
He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you. His lips grazed your ear, as he whispered, "You know I do."
When he kissed you this time, you felt all the years of love the two of you shared, all the things you'd left unsaid for so long, and all the emotions you had both been holding back.
Love wasn't easy--it was messy and imperfect, but you wouldn't have traded it for anything. Very few people were blessed with true love and those that were knew to hold onto it. You had come so close to losing it--losing him--but you'd never let yourself really feel that loss. His gentle loving touch reminded you of everything you'd come so close to losing and it brought tears to your eyes.
"Hey," he said softly, noticing your tears. He brushed back your hair and he wiped a tear from your cheek. "What's wrong, doll?"
"Nothing, El," you assured him. "Everything is just right."
"You don't usually cry when I kiss you."
You laughed lightly and wiped your eyes. You reached up to touch his face and he leaned into your palm. "Losing you is my biggest fear," you whispered. "I came so close...I never want to feel that way again."
"You won't," he murmured as his eyes turned glossy. "I'm not going anywhere."
You sighed softly. "Make love to me, Elliot Stabler."
"Your wish is my command, (Y/N) Stabler."
Hips lips met yours again in a searing kiss. The way he touched you, held you, kissed you--it was passionate and loving, and you were once again reminded that it had been years since you'd made love like this.
His hands were gentle, but firm, as if he wanted to make sure you knew he wasn't going anywhere. The room was filled with nothing but his gentle whispers of affection and your soft moans of enjoyment.
By the time he was ready to enter you, you were already teetering on the brink, your body vibrating with need. He slid inside of you in one quick thrust, and you gasped his name in his ear.
There was nothing rushed about the way he moved, despite the pent up desire you'd both experienced. He gave you what you needed and accepted what you gave him. The soft sounds you made spurred him on, his need to hear you reach your peak his driving force.
"I love you so much, (Y/N/N)," he whispered.
You kissed him breathlessly. "And I love you."
There were a thousand things he wanted to tell you, a million sweet nothings, but those would have to wait. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so deeply connected to another person--so intimately intertwined. It was a feeling he could never put into words and he'd only ever felt it with you.
"I missed this," he murmured. "I missed you."
"I missed us," you whispered in return.
In truth, he'd missed everything about being with you. He would have sold his soul if it meant he never had to leave you. He imagined you wouldn't be particularly fond of such a thought, but he couldn't help the way he felt. You were his world and he would have done anything to keep you.
"I'm close," you gasped, nails digging into the flesh of his broad back.
"Hang on for a little longer, baby. I want you to cum with me."
"I don't think I can."
"Yes you can, doll. Do it for me."
You nodded and dug your nails in a little deeper, as if the reflex kept you from falling over the edge.
Elliot groaned softly, the pain mixing with the pleasure in just the right way. He knew he was going to have marks on his back tomorrow and he would wear them with pride.
His pace quickened slightly and your moans began to increase in volume. You continued to clutch onto him and your core spasmed around him, pulling him closer to the edge.
"I'm almost there, baby," he murmured.
You whined, unable to verbally beg him to speed up.
He took the hint and changed his pace again, chasing his own high. He knew you couldn't hold on much longer, but he was desperate to feel you reach your climax at the same time as him.
"Need to cum," you begged.
"Almost, baby."
You whined again, but you continued to hold on.
He knew he was seconds away from orgasming, but he waited until the very last moment to whisper in your ear, "Cum for me."
The moment those words left his lips, the cord in your abdomen snapped and you cried out as the wall of pleasure slammed into you. Elliot came at the same moment, a cry of your name ripped from his throat as he filled you with his seed.
You clung to each other as you began to come down from your highs, unwilling or unable to let go. Elliot collapsed on top of you and you held on tightly, enjoying the feeling of his warm body enveloping yours.
Through the haze of pleasure, you were reminded of how incredible sex was when it was with someone who loved and respected you as much as you loved and respected them. There was nothing special about the sex itself...it was missionary position for crying out loud, but the person you were making love with is what made it special.
"You are my heart and soul, Elliot. I could never love anyone the way I love you." You whispered the words into his hair, almost hoping he didn't hear you.
He didn't move for a long moment--so long, in fact, that you thought he may have simply fallen asleep. Then he lifted his head to look at you and the words he said would stick with you for the rest of your life.
"I never knew what love was until I met you--it was just a word, nothing special. I've been madly in love with you for as long as I can remember and I'll never want anything else. You are my everything, (Y/N)...my sun, my moon, my stars, my universe. You are branded on my soul for all of time."
That was, without a doubt, the most romantic thing he'd ever said to you--and he'd said a lot of romantic things in the past 15 years. Your eyes filled with emotion and you tried your hardest not to cry.
He pulled himself up and leaned over you to kiss you gently and sweetly, a kiss you returned gladly. When he pulled away, he laid down beside you and tugged you to him, not quite ready to let go of you.
You nuzzled into his chest with a sigh, perfectly content to stay right there forever.
Elliot kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tightly, making sure you knew he wasn't going to let you go. He knew there was still going to be a lot for the two of you to talk about, but you'd managed to reform a connection that you'd both lost, and he'd be damned if he let it break again.
He wasn't at all surprised when you spoke up as if you'd read his mind. "We still have a lot to talk about, El."
He chuckled softly. "I know, baby, but we'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. For now, I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms."
You sighed happily. "I think I can live with that."
It didn't take long for you both to fall asleep, the comfort of each other's arms all you needed to feel safe, protected, and so very loved. Love is never easy, but it is always worth it.
I got pretty fed up with looking for words to replace said because they weren’t sorted in a way I could easily use/find them for the right time. So I did some myself.
I’M DRUNK OR JUST BEING WEIRDLY EXPRESSIVE FOR A POINT/SARCASM
Hooted
Howled
Yowled
I WONDER
Pondered
Voiced
Wondered
OH, YEAH, WHOOPS
Recalled
Recited
Remembered
SURPRISE BITCH
Revealed
IT SEEMS FAKE BUT OKAY/HA ACTUALLY FUNNY BUT I DON’T WANT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD
Scoffed
Snickered
Snorted
BITCHY
Tattled
Taunted
Teased
Edit: People, I’m an English and creative writing double major in college; I understand that there’s nothing wrong with simply using “said.” This was just for fun, and it comes in handy when I need to add pizzazz.
actually i'm reblogging this again with commentary, fuck it.
There's people in the notes talking about "not basing your worth off numbers", and like. that isn't what this post is about. It's not a threat, either, it's a comment on how this site works, at a mechanical level.
Likes are worthless. Let me say that again.
Likes. Are. Worthless.
They don't do anything. They're a bookmark. They were never part of how tumblr works - in the early days we didn't even have a like button, and the site still more or less acts as though we don't. They're personal bookmarks and the only people who "get" anything from them are you (you bookmark the post) and the OP (maybe a very slight serotonin boost), but they don't keep the post in circulation, they don't keep it alive.
Without reblogs, a post will be dead in the water within an hour. No matter how good it is, no matter how many hours of painstaking love and attention its creator put into it, it will be dead within an hour and never seen again. It gets pushed down the dashboard and nobody aside from the followers who were online when it was posted will see it.
And there's a huge difference in engagement on posts that get even one lucky reblog from someone with wider reach - that one reblog shows your post to five, ten, fifteen other people, and if one of those people also reblogs it, and so on and so forth, that's how posts stay alive and in circulation.
It's like a contagion, but we're sharing creativity instead of disease.
And that matters. That "lifespan" of the post matters, artists and writers give up on this site and go to sites where posts have longer lifespans because it sucks to spend hours of your life, maybe even days, to get two notes and some fucking pocket lint for your efforts.
We create for ourselves, but we share because we want people to see it, because that engagement offers positive feedback and encouragement to continue.
But more than that, if every post (whether art, fic, gifset, whatever) is dying within an hour or a day of being posted, that means it's not making it onto your dashboard. And if it's not on your dashboard, you won't see it. This kills the site, after a while. You stop seeing the posts, because nobody is putting them on your dashboard, because this site doesn't have an algorithm like twitter and insta's and it shouldn't, it's the last bastion of chronological timelines.
Forgive my giant fucking rant I am so tired right now and full of the plague but like stop acting like artists and writers are just being whiny little babies, or "threatening" to withhold our fucking work (you're not entitled to it! it's ours! if we get nothing out of sharing it we're well within our rights to keep it private!) when we say this site will dry up without reblogs. We're just stating facts.
also I’ve seen some people in the tags say ‘oh there have always been more likes on posts’ no there haven’t ????
these are posts from 2013, look at the ratio
not to sound like a nursing home resident but back then people know that the point of this site was to reblog things and share them, not to bury them away among your other 23k liked posts
