#(i am mostly failing but hey trying should count for something I think)

[littleragondin]

What am I supposed to do with myself now uh?! just go on with my life as if nothing?? Good luck with that.

[alovesongtheywrote]

holy fuckin shit girl nighmare academia 🤌🤌🤌

thank god for that person who asked for a pt.2, but I must ask for a pt.3 loll

♥ Summary:  here you go, 1000 words of reid scheming against the reader with the help of some familiar faces! [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: morgan and garcia being morgan and garcia, vague mentions of spencer wanting kids, threats of bodily harm at the very end

♥ A/N: yeah, ik the last one of these came out like. today. but im having a lot of fun, so until that stops. have fun with the enemies to lovers professor au

♥ Word Count: 1200

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

“Alright, my sweet brain boy, I’ve got the dirt on the Doctor- not you, the other Doctor.  You know what I mean.”

Spencer nodded- then he, in all of his genius, remembered that Penelope could not see him.

“What did you find?” he asked, pulling his legs up on his office chair.  He hadn’t left the university grounds after his fight with you and his call with Garcia.  You had left.  He was sure of it.  His office window gave him a great view of the parking lot, and hence, a great view of you leaving.  Reid, on the other hand, had stayed inside his office waiting for this second call.

“Well, it looks like you may have some competition in the doctorate department.  Doctor (L/N),” she stressed your title, “Also has three PhDs- one in criminology, one in law, and one in- get this- English Literature.  They’ve written a few really good articles, mostly on crime stuff, but also on Pride and Prejudice.  And oh, their takes on Elizabeth and Darcy- it’s enough to make a girl swoon.”

“Okay,” Spencer sighed.  None of this would help him get back at you- most of it was knowledge he could attain with a casual google search, “What else do you have for me?”

“Well, our dear Doctor is active in the community.  They help ex-cons get GEDs in their spare time, they donate to various charities and nonprofits, they support the local arts. They've got a lot of hobbies, they enjoy Halloween a lot- oh, and their mom is super proud of them.”

“What else, Garcia?”

“They have two cats, a couple siblings, a few nieces and nephews- it looks like they’re good with kids.”

“This isn’t relevant,” Spencer groaned, trying to hide his frustration.  He was looking for ways to get under your skin the way you had gotten under his.  He didn’t need to know every nice thing about you.

“Hey, you want kids, don’t you pretty boy?”  A deep voice that was very much not Garcia’s came over the line.

“Morgan is here, by the way,” at the very least, Penelope had the decency to sound a little embarrassed.

“I can hear that.  How long has he been listening?”

“Long enough to hear that you and this Mystery Professor would make a good match.  I mean, where else are you gonna find someone with three PhDs and a face like that?”

Spencer could hear Garcia’s gasp, even though she had pulled away from the phone.  When she spoke again, her voice was playful, “We’re looking for him, not for you.  What would Savannah say?  What should I say?”

“Easy baby girl, I’m just letting our boy know that I approve.”

“Hold on,” Spencer’s voice broke through the bickering of his former co-workers, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I am not interested in (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Oh?  Then whyfore the background check, boy genius?”

“Is something wrong, Reid?”

“No, no, it’s nothing- it’s not like they’re a threat to my safety or anyone’s safety.  They’re just…”

“Just what, kid?”

Spencer drew in a sharp breath, trying to keep his cool.  He had to be calm- collected.  He couldn’t let Derek and Penelope know that you were so deep under his skin, inside the tissue of his brain, that he couldn’t stop thinking about you.  He couldn’t keep his mind from running back to the image of your face, glaring at him as you took the typewriter from his hands.  They would get the wrong idea.  The entire wrong idea.  So, Spencer had to remain cool.

He immediately failed.

“They’re just really fucking annoying, okay!?”

“Damn, kid!  Okay!  What did they do, tell you that Doctor Who was just okay?”

“No, you don’t get it-” Spencer hissed, flopping further into his chair as he proceeded to rant about the entire typewriter thing.  He quoted you word for word, too- of course he did, eidetic memory.  Once he finished, Morgan and Garcia seemed to take on a new understanding of the situation.

“I see!  This wasn’t a love call, but one for information!!  A stockpile of knowledge for devious pranks- that is why you called, right?  You need info for getting back at the lovely Professor?”

“Yes-!  They aren’t lovely, but yes.”

“Kid, anyone who can make you write emails is lovely in Garcia’s book.”

“Listen to your local Morgan, Reid- now, do you have a revenge plot already?”

“Sort of?”  Spencer shared his plans with Garcia, smiling to himself at the sound of her laugh.  His brand of humor didn’t usually get that reaction. 

“Sounds perfect, Reid- I can help with that, but I’m gonna need a secure connection, Dr. (L/N)’s email address, and everything you know about the benefits of handwritten notes.”

Once the plan was fully fleshed out, Spencer hung up the phone and finally, finally made his way out of his office with a rare spring in his step.  His plan was set.  The trap was in place.  Your beloved technology would be your downfall.  As he stepped onto the Metro, he had to keep from cackling like an overdramatic villain.  He was at a high point, and he really didn’t want to be arrested for causing a disturbance.  

Meanwhile, back at Quantico, Morgan and Garica looked at each other, the now silent phone placed between them.

“So, those two are-”

“They are perfect for each other, yes.”

“We’ve gotta help him.”

“Absolutely.  Hey, once they get together, do you think he’ll introduce me?  I want to talk to Dr. (L/N) about their Pride and Prejudice hot takes.”

“Careful, Garcia.  We’re shopping for him, not for you.”

“Hey, I just appreciate a person who can see the true nuances in one Fitzwilliam Darcy!  And I wanna know which film adaptation is their favourite.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Rossi’s voice came from the door of Garcia’s office, “The rest of us have been ready to go for fifteen minutes.  What’s the hold up?”

“Nothing, Rossi.”

“We just found a perfect match for one Spencer Reid.”

“Really?  Interesting.  Tell me more later.  Let’s go.”

-

Two days later, you opened your PowerPoint slides only to find a presentation about the benefits of handwritten notes.  Everything you had in place for that day was gone.  All that was in its place was a genuinely well-crafted presentation about how writing notes by hand was better for attention retention and memorization.  

Honestly, you couldn’t even get that mad.  It was a good presentation.  

Still, you had a reputation to maintain.

You bit your lip and crossed your arms, becoming the picture of barely contained rage.  You took a deep breath, turning to your students and slapping a strained smile across your lips.

“Forgive me, my lovely students, but given this sudden turn of events, I’m just going to cancel class for today.  The correct notes will be on the class website later.”

You made your way to the door, leaving all your belongings behind in your haste, “Enjoy your afternoons, I’m going to go stab Dr. Spencer Reid.  In the throat.  Have a good day!”

A few students gave quiet, confused farewells.  Others leaned over to each other and whispered, “Stabbing is a sex thing, right?”

Technically, they were correct.

[joz-yyh]

Blighted Hearts - Ch. 11

SUMMARY: *Flashback chapter!* Bigby and Damian set off to explore the witch's house to see if the local legend holds true. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T ((for this chapter ONLY!!))

PAIRING: Abomination x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 2,877

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: Paracelsus finally makes her appearance!! For anyone wondering, Nephthys is the Egyptian goddess of death and darkness.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

“I can't believe we're doing this,” Bigby sighs, feet stamping through a dirt path of leaves.

It's a gloomy day, foggy and damp, appropriate for “ghost hunting,” the two travelers well past the outskirts of town, the woods fully engulfing them on either side.

Damian made sure to tell Baldwin where they were going should they fail to return by the designated time (he was against them going at all), but words could only do so much to stop a willful flagellant.

The werewolf is expecting something to pop out at him at any moment, eyes shifting all around, jumping at the smallest sound.

“Do you want to turn back,” asks the holy man, giving his companion a coy smirk.

Damian has shown no ounce of fear, but rather excitement, Bigby hard-pressed to admit he’s scared, give more munition to merit the superstition of the witch’s tale.

“A part of me does,” the wolfboy admits, clutching his shroud, “but the less rational side of my brain wants to keep going.”

“Listen to the less rational side.”

Bigby laughs, keeping close to Damian, their hands and shoulders brushing every other step, the lycan finding it comforting, grounding.

“There, do you see it up ahead?”

The bloody priest points, indicating a carousel roof of charcoal-colored shingles amidst the treetops, a beaten up weathervane as it’s belfry, setting it apart from the branches.

Bigby slows to an almost stop, having second thoughts now that the reality of myth was coming into focus. “Uh, maybe we should come back another time?”

“What's a matter,” the flagellant teases, "I thought you said nobody would be home.”

“There probably isn't, but I am just being um … neighborly. It’s probably too early for visitors.”

“What better way to be neighborly then to say, ‘hello?’”

Damian continues forward, Bigby floundering, having no choice but to join him, unable to let the half-crazed man go alone.

They approach from the front, the house encased by a cobblestone fence, an old wooden gate blocking the footpath leading to the door.

The lawn consists of mostly dead grass, the clearing upon which it's built having too much exposure to the elements, various junk scattered about the outside, heavy with rust and wear. Ivy also streaks across the cylindrical hut, a wire-enclosed garden on the other side that looks better tended to than the rest of the yard.

Damian unlatches the gate, letting himself in.

“Hey, maybe the gate’s closed because they don't want any company.”

“If they didn't want company, they wouldn't have made it so easy for us to walk in.”

‘Maybe everyone knows better than us,’ Bigby thinks, catching up to him, traversing across the overgrowth between the flagstones.

The flagellant peers through a nearby window, the glass dirty, cob-webbed, making out only dark shapes on the other side.

“Should we knock,” the werewolf asks, looking toward his companion, standing just outside the threshold.

Damian shrugs, pulling back, “You can try it.”

The branded lad goes to tap on the wood grain when the door swings open all by itself, announcing their arrival with an eerie creak.

“Umm, hello? Anyone home?”

Bigby's call is left unanswered as he hesitantly enters the space, greeted by stray raven feathers left scattered about the floor.

A table and chairs are among the first pieces of furniture he sees, books spread out upon it, a hearth on the left, herbs and garlic hung up to dry around the pegs.

Damian strides past him, taking in the sights, shelves and shelves lined with glass bottles and canisters, a personal apothecary.

“It doesn't seem as abandoned as we thought,” Bigby says, looking over the texts, recognizing some of the sigils from the spellbook, handwritten medical diagrams set astride it.

“Maybe she stepped out,” Damian muses, reading over the many ingredient labels, touching over various knick knacks.

“Even worse. Can you imagine coming home to two strangers in your house, touching all your stuff?”

Both men go stock still, a sharp grating noise alerting them that they were no longer alone.

“Someone's coming,” Bigby warns, a harsh whisper, “We gotta get out of here.”

“There's no time!

“Then, what do you propose we do?!”

“Hide!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere!!”

Damian runs off somewhere toward the living room. Bigby, in a panic, chooses what is arguably one of the worst places to hide: under the table.

The witch appears from behind a false stone wall, carrying an ample of glowing green, stairs leading down into the basement now sealing closed behind her.

“Seems restraints were not enough. Perhaps, we should sedate the subject next time. What do you think, Nephthys?”

The crow perched upon on her shoulder caws it's opinion.

“So what if you're the smartest known species of bird to exist. My brain is bigger than yours!”

Another lackluster caw.

“Oh, go fly off to be with that old hag if you don't like it. But don't come crying to me when she turns you into stew!”

A more incensed caw from her animated pet, wings flapping along with it.

“You know, I don't approve of cannibalism, but it would take weeks to harvest those ingredients on our own. Would you rather I strap a plough to your wings?”

Nephthys strongly objects.

“Didn't think so.”

The witch sets something atop the table, Bigby flinching from the sudden clatter happening just above his head, covering his mouth to keep his voice down.

The dark shade around him pauses, listening in.

“Do you hear that?”

Oh no. She's going to find him, skin him, boil him alive. Bibgy feels his breakfast churn in his stomach, swallowing it back down.

A gust of wind, a wobble from the squeaky door, a scrap of dead compost being swept in.

“Must've left the door open again.”

Her boots step across the floorboards, aiming to close out the draft, Bigby flooded with relief.

From here he can see the witch, she wears a dark shroud like him, but it's heavy, full of feathers, her grand mantle dragging across the ground, leaving a trail of plumage, practically a crow herself.

“Well, now that that's out of the way, we can finally begin.”

She lights a fire with a snap of her fingers, the hearth coming to life, making the cauldron there glow.

“Now let's see, what goes in first.”

She's consulting her books when another loud noise arises, something being thrown, rolling like a marble, coming from the other side of the room and Bigby instantly worries for Damian.

“What was that? Who’s there,” the witch demands, swirling to investigate, cape spread out like a breadth of wings.

Damian runs out from behind the couch, towards the door while she's distracted, seeing Bigby stashed under the table, helping him to escape.

They hear Nephthys caw just as they turn the knob, making their exit.

Bigby's heart is beating fiercely, taking a few gulps of breath as they wait, huddling around the exterior of the house, just below the window.

“Is she gone,” Damian asks him.

The wolfboy is almost too afraid to look, gingerly poking his head up to peer inside, catching the afterimage, the rush of a black-quilled shroud.

Bigby dips back down, shaking his head.

“We'll wait her out,” Damian whispers.

They hear stomping, clattering, cawing and then silence, the two men left in suspense of what's happened.

Seconds later there's an eruption of sound, the window being thrown open, the witch popping their stitched beak out, shouting a cry of victory.

“Ah-ha! Found you!!”

The flagellant takes the wolfboy by the hand, running as fast and as far away as his feet can carry him.

“Don't think you can escape from me,” the masked sorceress hollers, casting a spell at their feet.

Damian is momentarily circumvented, lethargic, coughing as a cloud of vibrant green blight surrounds them.

“C'mon! Keep running!”

It's Bigby that leads them away this time, unaffected by the bombs debilitating properties, tugging his wheezing companion along.

A dark cloud soars above them in pursuit, a shadow of a massive winged creature, it's shape blocking out the grayed yellow sun.

“She can fly,” marvels the werewolf, terrified of such brilliant skill.

“Most witches do,” Damian supplies.

“With a broom! She has wings!! I thought you said she never leaves her house!”

“Guess I was wrong.”

“Watch out!”

The plague doctor swoops low, the two males ducking to avoid a strike of plumage, velocity nearly forcing them apart, rustling both hair and hood alike.

The bird woman glides on ahead, landing right in front of the strangers that encroached upon her home, wingspan blocking off the entire road, a bold declaration of her vascular reach.

She stares the culprits down, shiny lenses for eyes, wings now folded behind her.

“Well, well, just what do we have here?”

The boys stand by one another, not saying a word, the scholarly witch stalking closer, assessing them with richety, corvid movements. She recoils back, a discovery made.

“Ha! You came to steal from me, didn't you! Steal knowledge that is rightfully mine!”

“We didn't steal anything,” the wolfboy pleads, “We knocked, but no one answered.”

“And that gave you permission to let yourselves in?”

“The door was open,” the flagellant supplies, probably hurting their case more than helping it. “We came to see if the myths were true.”

“Oh, so you came to gawk at me? Ridicule me? Preach your ethics and faith? Ha! You're not the first to try. Ignorant fools! Always so naive to the truth!”

The witch pays particular attention now to Bigby, pointing her stark white nose at him.

“But you, you already know that, don't you? I smell the Otherside on you, abomination. And just how did you come to acquire your powers, hm? Did you do it yourself, or did someone else do it for you?”

Bigby growls at her, brows furrowed with anger, unanswering.

“Yes, you would do nicely,” the plague doctor surmises, gloved hand appraising the werewolf’s fangs, “come back with me. I am sure the blight from you would be most beneficial to my endeavors.”

Damian steps in, wedging himself between her sudden obsession, pulling Bigby to stand behind him.

“He's not interested.”

“Ha! Look at you! A leech that's only good for bleeding himself! Hm, I may have use for you as well.”

“Look, we're sorry we wandered into your home uninvited, but we would like to leave now, please,” pipes the branded boy, still guarded by the bulwark that is the flagellant's shoulders, propping himself up on top toes.

She cackles, Nephthys along with her.

“So you can bring the villagers to my door? Carrying pitchforks and torches? Out to burn everything I've built!”

“We wouldn't! We meant no harm, really! Just please, let us go!’

“Why,” she snaps, brandishing her silver dagger, “When I could just gut you both for trespassing and take what I want instead?”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Bigby snarls, his ears growing pointy, eyes luminescent, “please, don't make me.”

“To see a beast in action, now wouldn't that be a sight! Give yourself to me and I'll let your little friend here live.”

The wolfboy swallows, considering it, half tempted to agree.

“No deal,” Damian shouts, taking Bigby by the hand once more, opting to flee.

The flagellant suffers a slice from her weapon, but it was nothing deeper than what he was used to, running into the cover of the woods, knowing it would be harder for her there, having to match them on foot.

“Do you really think you can outrun me,” she cackles, amused by their persistent efforts, red coating her blade.

They're damn well going to try.

“That was so stupid,” Bigby warbles, a stumbling gait through the underbrush of fallen trees, “You’re bleeding!”

“As stupid as offering yourself over to her? Just keep running! We need to make it back to the church.”

Bigby's survival senses are tingling, something telling him to look back.

The witch's familiar, Nephthys, is closing in, it's smaller aerodynamic size easier to navigate through the tighter gaps in the forest, assaulting their eardrums with aural shrieks.

“Her crow is following us.”

“That would explain the screeching.”

Damian weaves them through the tree trunks, the crow firing blasts of regurgitated bile in attempts to slow them down.

“It'll catch up to us at this rate.”

“Wait, I think I have an idea! Hide behind this tree.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me!”

Damian nods, letting Bigby take over, following his plan.

The abomination waits, ears open for the bird's approach. His timing would be everything, waiting for that exact moment to lash out.

With a harsh whip crack, he stuns the familiar completely, it's body falling to the ground with a limp thump.

“You're quite good with a chain,” the holy man praises, watching as the corvid's feet twitch, a daze of little stars circling around it's head.

“I am sorry” the wolfboy offers to the indisposed creature, frowning at what he had to do, even if it was justified.

“You can apologize later. C'mon!”

The abbey is within their sights now, the two boys running up the steps in record time, pushing the doors open and then slamming them shut just as quickly.

They take a moment to catch their breath slumped against the sturdy wood of the entrance way.

“Do you think she's gone?”

“Dunno, but we're safe now.”

“We should get your wound looked at.”

“Just a scratch. Nothing to fuss over.”

“Still,” Bigby insists.

“Fine, if it pleases you.”

The abomination helps carry Damian further inside, arm slung over his shoulder amd waist.

“Remind me never to go on an adventure with you again.”

“Stuff like that usually doesn't happen,” the flagellant assures him.

“I bet,” Bigby chuckles.

Just as their nerves are beginning to settle down, there's a sharp rap at the door.

“Oh no.”

“You don't think …”

“She wouldn't … would she?”

As the boys debate on what to do, Junia wanders out into the hall, poised to answer the hubbub. “Oh, who could that be?”

“Junia, no!”

“Don't open it!”

The innocent girl doesn't hear them, offering a well-meaning, “Hello, who is it?”

“Where is he,” demands the shrill voice on the other side.

“Umm, ‘he’,” he vestal asks, a tad confused by the vague description, “Sorry, who is it that you're looking for?”

The plague doctor forces her way in, the unsuspecting Junia pushed aside.

“Don't play dumb. I saw him run back here,” the witch cries, beak waving through the air, “I can smell him, I know he's been here.”

Damian and Bigby are quick to hide behind the corridor, the hooded man poking his nose out to see Reynauld joining his comrade in the hall, ready to assist her.

“This a place of Light,” the knight says, a hand on his sword, willing to enforce it, “if your intent is not for worship, then I must ask you to leave.”

“Funny how my house was intruded upon, but I am treated as an unwelcome solicitor here,” she squawks, feathers poofing, doubling her size.

“If you seek to deliver a message,” the knight prompts, “then I am more than capable of handling it.”

“Very well, give him this. He dropped it while running away like a frightened little rabbit. And do tell him that he's invited for tea tomorrow or else a most wicked curse shall befall him.”

The plague doctor drops a small, inconspicuous pouch into Reynauld's hand, bidding him a sinister, “good day,” before gathering her opulent fringe for departure.

The knight shakes his helmet in disapproval, helping to steady the vestal from the debilitating intrusion.

“You really must learn to check the peephole before answering the door,” he advises gently.

“Yes, perhaps you're right,” she says, rubbing at the back of her head, still sore from being thrown against the stone.

“I better go explain what's going on,” Bigby says, feeling guilty for all the trouble they've caused.

“Best we find Baldwin first.”

“We can't wait for him. Stay put, I'll be right back.”

“Bigby–”

It's too late, the changeling has already revealed himself, walking up to the armored crusader despite their past differences.

“Umm, I am really sorry about all that. It's just a really big misunderstanding.”

“Why am I not surprised that the eldritch menace was after you ?”

The shapeshifter stands stiff, Reynauld's voice cold, foreboding as he leans in close, a sinister threat, setting the parcel in the abomination's upturned palm.

“If anything should happen to the church, I am holding you personally responsible.”

With that, the knight stalks away, lest he extract a punishment that's much worse than a warning.

Bigby tries not to let Reynauld's distasteful reproach get to him (this incident surely didn't win him any favors), focusing his efforts on the recovering vestal.

“Lady Junia, are you alright?”

“Me? Oh yes, I am fine. Surprised me is all. What did that strange woman want with you?”

“It's a long story, but before that, could you help me with Damian? He's hurt.”

“Oh, of course.”

As he shows the good-natured healer to the spot where he'd left the injured priest, Bigby can't help worrying about what's waiting for him inside that tiny hex bag.

[balkanradfem]

Cardiology is... Very connected to other fields, so it's simply if you don't have more specific specialists in your area, chances are a cardiologist will know what to test for and who to go to, at least in a very generic direction. But it's especially connected to rheumatology. Although if you have a traumatologist that could work just as well, but in a town (tiny) where I live a clinic didn't have one and still doesn't, so I just went to a cardiologist to refer me to another city and she was pretty good.

The way you're describing it you definitely have chronic pain imo. I think there's a very harmful ableist narrative in our society that if the pain seems to have a cause it's not "actually" chronic as if chronic pain just appears out of nowhere which is not true, but just suck at figuring out the diagnosis. Chronic pain is any pain that lasts for a long period of time, case closed. Even if you broke your leg and it fully healed and it still hurts you'd still have a pain that is chronic, for example. Triggers for pain are very common too, it doesn't have to be present all the time, in fact in a lot of chronic pain patients it doesn't. Still counts especially if your pain prevents you from functioning fully (I'd even argue it qualifies as disability to some extent, but I'm not a medical professional)

Not inflammation (although you can't rule out anything without tests), but like I said, nobody expects, or nobody SHOULD expect patients to know what's going on all the time, and there's no moral failing in visiting a wrong doctor for your pain because all healthcare is trial and error until you figure out the final diagnosis. Showing up to a vaguely correct doctor (or a general physician, if you have one) with a generic "hey there's something wrong, can I get help with it?" isn't malicious at all and is better than self-diagnosing in almost every case.

That said doctors can be and usually are shitty about it, especially chronic pain + misogyny combo (I've been chronically ill + disabled since around 8 years old, and I've only met two to four doctors that actually taken me seriously and gently and didn't shame for being in the state I am), so I totally understand not wanting to go through all that hassle and potential medical trauma lmao.

On that note maybe try looking into over the counter muscle relaxant?

Oh I love what you wrote here!

I never considered this pain a chronic type, but what you're saying is absolutely true, it is just a descriptor for pain that lasts for a long time. I'm sorry if my perspective on it was wrong! It's completely true that chronic pain can be caused and triggered by physical issues.

You're right about doctors too, my doctor seems to just be annoyed with me repeatedly showing up and not getting any better even after being checked out by two physio-specialists. I'll talk about it to her the next time I'm in and see if I can get a referral!

I did get a muscle relaxant medicine, and it does take the pain away temporarily, I will take it if my pain gets irritated (like if I'm in a situation where I have to run a few steps, that will cause me intense pain if I don't take the relaxant afterwards). But it's not something one could safely take for a long time and I ended up having some bad side-effects from it, so I'm mostly avoiding it.

[valkyurii]

I thought the game was trying to reassure us actually xD In a manner like, "We know we've stated multiple times that Malenia is undefeated. But worry not. You'll be fighting a half-dead version of her! She's defeatable!"

I guess there's always room to argue how intentional the blooms are since it's vague enough. Though, my opinion is… hmm.. Regardless of whether Malenia actively chooses to bloom, I think significant feelings of despair will inevitably be present. Because it's only natural to despair on the brink of death, no? Unless she has zero survival instincts. And it's not as if she can find closure like Millicent. During the first bloom, she fights with purpose. During the second, she's not expecting a fight. In both cases, whyever would she instinctually willingly go down just because she's "not supposed to win"? Anyone else in her position would be resigned to carrying their resentments to the grave. But that doesn't happen for her since she harbours a parasitic time bomb which exploits the human condition. These are my current messy thoughts anyway. But I don't particularly care if she bloomed on purpose.

Maybe Malenia's combo of difficulty + novelty needs time for evaluating or adjusting to. Maybe that's why more people are coming round to her now. She's like an acquired taste in a way? Which also means some people just hold feelings of aversion towards her.

Sorry to give you an awkwardly late response. Sometimes I overthink what to say even when anonymous. Btw, my ask isn't an essay question with a limited word count :P rant if you wish. I enjoy reading your response. Thank you. And I too hope you're well.

Hey anon, so sorry for the late reply I haven’t been on here much this past week 😅

Oh you’re right though it could well be the game trying to reassure us I was mostly joking lol. What Gideon says about her being in the Haligtree, but potentially being dead would give us indication that she may not be in a good state when we get there. Also speaking of Gideon I always find it interesting how he never seems to elaborate much on her. There’s an option to ask about the others but not her or Mohg or Miquella. Mohg I get cause no one knows he’s the Lord of Blood. But I still think it’s funny how the All-Knowing knows nothing about the Haligtree or the twins. And then when we tell him about Miquella he’s like “maybe we should kill him because I do not want to be around if he wakes up”

I agree with what you say about the bloom. Despair seems to be a key factor according to Gowry and while I tend to take a lot of what he says with a grain of salt, he does seem to be on to something there. It certainly seems to be the case with Millicent given the two outcomes of her questline. I don’t doubt it would be the same for Malenia as well. During her fight with Radahn she was physically and mentally exhausted by the end, making it harder to fight off the rot, which we know takes a lot of willpower on her part. Then there’s the possibility of her failing to win the war. You put all that into perspective and it’s easy to see why she acted out of desperation like that. That feeling of despair is bound to set in. This is all just my speculation though as I know it’s a very controversial topic at this point. It’s hard to discuss these things at times as there’s so many people who think the war was over nothing and Malenia just threw a tantrum because she couldn’t beat the Big Man and she just wanted to maintain her undefeated status. It’s so funny I swear, if she didn’t have that line about never knowing defeat people wouldn’t be so upset over this.

"During the first bloom, she fights with purpose. During the second, she's not expecting a fight. In both cases, whyever would she instinctually willingly go down just because she's "not supposed to win"?"

Yeah this is something that’s always confused me with this fandom. Because I am genuinely curious as to how people think Malenia should have responded in either situations. People seem to think she should have let both Radahn and the tarnished win simply because it would have been easier for both us and him, instead of using everything at her disposal to try and take us both out. They act like she should have just lay down and died. I mean god forbid Malenia fights with everything she has. This is like that argument I saw a while ago that was like “why does Malenia attack us on site?” I mean are people really mad at that?? We break into her home and stand in front of her armed to the teeth looking for a fight. It’s hardly surprising she wants to kill us lmao. The amount of bosses that do the same thing and yet no one ever complains when Godfrey opens his fight by launching at us in a similar way.

Sorry this just turned into a rant post. I appreciate the message anon and again I’m sorry I took so long to reply and didn’t really have much to say <3

[falinscloaca]

this is no place of honor. nothing good is buried here. like, look at those tags, jesus fucking christ icansayithewasalsojewish there they are, i'm at fucking PEAK 2:11 in the morning brain and i got hooked on the discourse rod like two hours ago at this point? i've been rewriting the same sentence over and over again trying to come up with a way to insult most of the people on this site while excluding all the people i'd feel legit fucking terrible making feel bad (which. includes forseeably anybody reading this unless the grace of god does- AAAAAAAUGHGHGHGGG JUST PUBLISH THE FUCKING THING

yooo this post literally begins "as a trans woman" and is about "discourse", uncool fetish shit, and like. idfk if theres even word for that other thing. People That Are Not Trans Women Keep Your Mouths Shut On This. Maybe Nobody Should Reply At All Actually? i've reached paranoid moralizing stink-beast levels that i don't even really know what to logically do with like i SHOULD post something and this is like my fifth time trying but also it feels deeply unwholesome to either reject or welcome outside input.

being a a trans woman, (which is. fucking relevant because YES THIS SHIT GETS TUMLBRFIED ALONG DEMOGRAPHIC LINESSSSS I'M REWRITING A FOLLOW UP THAT MORE DIRECLTY MADE CLEAR IT WAS ABOUT TRANSMISOGYNISTIC REACTIONS TO THINGS-RANGING-FROM-COMPLETELY-INNOCUOUS-TO-FRINGE-CASE-PERVERT-SHIT-I.-JFC-I-CANT-EXPLAIN-IT-MORE-AGAIN-I'LL-COLLAPSE) one who is NOT immune to internet horny in all its forms ranging from innocuous to.... Less [private information/"backstory" expunged tldr the internet can fuck you up especially if you grow to view it as a place of refuge] and is ALSO extremely adamant that Hey I Think That People Should Face Repercussions For Publicly Saucing Up On "Gross" (don't. make me spell out the exact points at which i think the enjoyment of a particular subject can be morally justifiable we'd be here all week and we'd kill ourselves before the talk was done) Shit but ALSO also the moral phucking filosopher in me can't shake off the feeling that Even Kink Shaming For Legit "Dangerous" Shit (in. interpersonal and cultural normalization ways not "shoot your boyfriend in the pancreas" ways) Still Fucking Counts As Sexual Harassment*** and. ghahghhhh.

at least if i didn't have a moral backbone i could hang out with those smug pretentious fictional bullshit loving DOUCHEBAGS but no i guess i'd chose "foolhardy and can-have-their-sense-of-Innate-Morality-swayed-into-fascistic-tendencies yet barring those incidencees are still fundamentally deep down good" to "i have pleasured myself with uranium-27 every evening for the past three years and its everyone elses problem, radiation is a puritanical myth" (or for that matter "foolhardy and easily swayed into fascistic tendencies and pretending to be good but its mostly people getting mad at trans women for calling themselves dogs or being furries". i do not intend to equivocate The Bad Thing Thats Transmisogynist with my own fucking sad little adoptive poop house filled with people failing to actually make any progress in extricating 'that stuugh' from the contexts where its fucking dangerous but like hey we're trying and i guess thats better than worshipping the the fucking stuff)

*** just bc i call it that doesn't mean arguments can't be made as to why its necessary or for the public good bla bla bla i'm not strictly arguing against it its just. even entertaining that it might be a lesser of two evils opens up so many fucking unsanswerable questions and my feelings-of-personal-shame-and-guilt engines just start kicking in bc this shit can't even be framed as "rationally" or "concisely" as a fucking trolley problem i'm moral relativisming my way into absolutism somehow i pray for hell to be real so that the duty of judgement can be left to hands other than my own for I Too am imperfect (albeit not in a way that gets off to children, LOL, get fucked i do still have the moral highground, like not over YOU necessarily but over those *other* dipshits that neither of *us* like)

[yandereloversblog]

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!𝕋𝕠𝕪 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕖 -> 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕤

Kisses ➤ “Hey, why aren’t you kissing back? Kiss me, me, me, me!”

───────•°˖~❉᯽❉~˖°•───────

>Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's 2

>Character: Toy Bonnie

>Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Murder, Unconsensual kisses, Galighting, Manipulative behaviour. Unhealthyand Toxic mindset, Toxic behaviour.

>Type Of Content: Prompt

>Word Count: 2387

───────•°˖~❉᯽❉~˖°•───────

•The more I read for this man the more this prompt seems so appropriate I went ahead and did it myself-

•I PROMISE I'll try making this one short -Future YL: This task was failed- XD also I'd like to mention he's mostly in human form here/android form cuz... Lips? And you don't want to be kissing hard metal

•And I made the one with Nightmare Bonnie a little too bloody so this one will include less gore and more manipulation XD

───────•°˖~❉᯽❉~˖°•───────

"What am I going to do with you, Bonnie?" You sighed, suddenly having to fix the rabbit's guitar again after he accidentally snapped a few strings off "Shouldn't you be thanking me? I got you a reason for you to spend time with me." Toy Bonnie huffed, pouted even, you refusing to appreciate your already limited time with him had the blue haired male upset, he was this close to starting a tantrum again and honestly you didn't want to deal with it. So swallowing up your pride your turned to smile at him "Thank you for letting me spend time with you." Though it was very forced and sort of annoyed Toy Bonnie took it.

He even grinned happily "That's right~ that's how you should do it~" He hummed happily, staring at you fixing his guitar, his staring problem was something you had learned to put up with so you ignored it, this decision on your part only encouraged Toy Bonnie to do it more, he took in your features, your eyes, nose, cheeks... Lips... Then Toy Bonnie narrowed his green eyes, a smirk appearing on his face as he continued staring at your lips, you were really lucky~ for him to find you this lovely, you should be thanking your gods.

Toy Bonnie then decided, immediatly pushing himself closer to you, a little kiss would be a good thank you for fixing his guitar, even though you should be the one thanking him instead for giving you a chance like this, but since he liked you he might as well treat you as special. You didn't move even when you felt his presence closer to you, knowing he usually did that to look at what you were fixing better. Only then you dropped one of your tools and immediatly leaned down to pick it up, causing Toy Bonnie to realize he just kissed nothing and blushed a bright red from embarrassment, immediatly pulling away

"Got it, I think it's fine now, why don't you try it out." You told Toy Bonnie and turned to look at him, only to find him looking at you with an annoyed and embarrassed glare "Ugh! Forget it!" He growled, getting up and snatching his guitar away, leaving you very confused as he walked away "That was random..." You mumbled with a frown, why did he have to be so rude??

...

A few weeks had past and the blue bunny's mood only kept getting worse, every chance he tried kissing you someone interrupted or you moved away last second, the fingers he kept tapping on the desk suddenly curled up and formed a fist, bringing it down to loudly punch the desk, shocking poor mangle who was just minding their business, he looked out the window, seeing you receive flowers from your significant other, it was Valentine's day so it was a normal gesture between couples but it angered Toy Bonnie to no end!

Especially when seeing how you acted, leaning closer to them and giving your lover a small soft kiss on the lips "That's suppose to be mine..." Toy Bonnie grumbled in annoyance, pupils even beginning to shake from anger. Mangle frowned in worry and confusion, looking at the desk Toy Bonnie had started to grip and pursed their lips at seeing how he had started to claw it down and leave marks from anger.

"You know, maybe it's just best if you tell them..." Mangle sighed, Toy Bonnie was already too much to deal with but now it had shot up to him being 10 times worse because of when you started dating someone "What would you know?" Of course he snapped at Mangle, glaring at them briefly before looking back to the window, daggers being thrown at your significant other "I know [Y/N] is a very sweet person so I'm sure they'll understand from where you're coming from or what you were trying to do." You put up with Toy Bonnie fairly well so Mangle had no choice but to think of you as a wonderful person.

Mangle's words stuck with the bunny animatronic, you'd understand right? 'So if I get rid of that worthless trash...' Toy Bonnie's line of thought started, a smirk appearing on his face 'You'll understand why I did it right?~ Besides having your attention on me is a must no matter what, you'll understand that too~'

Maybe Mangle regretted saying that once seeing the look Bonnie got on his face.

...

"They still haven't been found... Yeah I'm sure the police are doing their best..." You ended the phone conversation shortly after and let out a heavy sigh, leaning back on the chair you stared down at your phone, a picture of you and your s/o displayed on the screen. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying, who wouldn't when their lover had disappeared without a trace on the world and all they found were drops of their blood. You didn't like to think they were dead even if it already has been two months. Luckily everyone understood your situation and left you alone for tonight. Well everyone expect one.

It had caught you by surprise when you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, noticing two blue rabbit ears lean down you blinked in shock "Bonnie?" You looked up to meet his eyes, surprised to see him smiling down at you "Everything alright?" The question seemed a bit stupid when you heard it "No, not really..." You didn't want to go into detail, Toy Bonnie probably knew already and by how he was you knew you would be boring him with your problems "What's gotten onto you though?" Although the sudden act of affection, a hug and the loving way Toy Bonnie patted your head had you calming down for some reason, was this a way for him to comfort you without him feeling too embarrassed? It was sort of cute.

"Nothing~" His chirpy voice was making you shift uncomfortably on your seat "You just seemed down so I thought maybe we can do something fun!" From how he worded it you know it would be something that he did and wanting your praise and attention after "Sorry Bonnie but I'm not in the mood tonight..." Although you couldn't see him when you lowered your head to look at your phone again, Toy Bonnie was angrily glaring at the screen. That person was dead so why were you so hung up on them when Bonnie himself was right with you!? "Then I'll just stay like this until you feel better I suppose." He clicked his tongue in annoyance, his good mood disappearing immediatly.

"Didn't take you for the affectionate type." You chuckled, but Toy Bonnie stayed quiet and in response just hugged you tighter, maybe that was a wordless approval on his part. But the blue haired male was in deep thoughts, how could he get you to like him, he can't just take you with force, it will be too annoying to deal with. But then an idea struck him.

"... Thank you Bon..." Although your soft and appreciative voice caught him off guard, he blinked in surprise and looked down at you 'Huh... This isn't so bad...' Toy Bonnie smiled, leaning down to actually nuzzle you lightly, maybe this will be a new favorite past time~

The light warmth from the hug suddenly stopped when Toy Bonnie let go of you. Then he moved around to face you and you even flinched in shock when he knelt down before you, placing his hands on your lap and looking up at you with a frown, his bunny ears lowering down "I don't like it when you're upset like this [Y/N], it's annoying..." Despite the light growl and glare he sent up your way, you quickly realized he was trying to express that he was worried about you.

The more you looked at him the more you had the desire to pet him, and you gave in, gently raising a hand to lightly pat Toy Bonnie's head, even touching against his ear had it lightly twitching in happiness "I'm sorry Bonnie, but I can't not be upset." You let out a sad laugh, looking away "I can't stay put when they still haven't been found..." Your expression dropped at the mention of them again, unable to see how Toy Bonnie's eye twitched in annoyance.

"... I hate them..." He claimed loudly enough without even thinking, bitting his lower lip when you turned to lightly glare at him "They just up and left you alone like this... You look miserable and I hate them for it..." You found Bonnie's way of looking out for rather... Interesting, it was like he didn't want to show it but if he didn't he would die.

"I'm... Fine, Bonnie. I'm fine. It's not their fault" Toy Bonnie wasn't exactly a human so these things needed to be explained to him patiently... Truth be told, being the main one to go after this investigation and make sure to know everything was tiering you out "... I wouldn't do that." You blinked in surprise at Toy Bonnie's words, especially when he grabbed your hand from patting his head and brought it down to kiss it "I... Would never leave you alone like that." He then stood up, towering over your seated form and leaned down to get a better look "I hate them not only for that but for taking you away from me."

"... W-what...?" You barely choked out a response, Toy Bonnie's expression turning into an annoyed scowl "Everytime I tried showing you, trying to get you to spend more time with me or trying to tell you what I feel you always blew me off and wanted to leave as fast as possible." His expression was trying to make it seem like he was mad and glaring at you but his ears immediatly lowered down, clearly expressing that he was upset, he was even trembling "I-I didn't try to blow you off." You quickly tried defending yourself, if what you assumed to be the declaration of love wasn't enough you were getting overwhelmed, guilt overtaking you when you reminded of all the times you wished to just be done with whatever Toy Bonnie needed so you could go home. But you didn't remember being mean or rude.

"Liar... Whenever I tried using some excuse to spend time with you, you always looked so annoyed whenever I talked to you... Or when I tried showing you something I learnt or could do and was proud of you never even noticed it..." Toy Bonnie looked so sure of it, thinking past on it had you actually looked that annoyed and expressed yourself like that? "I didn't-"

"You did!" Toy Bonnie scowled, then quickly after he started trembling, looking down "You did..." His demeanour broke something in you, you tried to think up of an excuse but then stopped, if you did find an excuse or tried saying it was because Toy Bonnie was the one being rude... Looking up your heart broke at how his expression was seconds away from crying "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to... I didn't know you felt like that."

"... Be honest, you hate me don't you, [Y/N]? I didn't know that was true but since you admitted it..." Toy Bonnie let go of your hand, his upset and angry facade fading into a heartbroken expression for a split second "W-wait!" You quickly got up, grabbing his hand in a panic "I promise I don't hate you Bonnie, just..." You pursed your lips, trying to say anything but nothing came out.

Seeing your silence and panicked expression, Toy Bonnie wanted to laugh, it was so easy to manipulate you when you were tired and overwhelmed not only by trying to find that pest but now by his confession -That he wouldn't admit but it took a lot of power and his pride stepping down to say it-

"I always wanted to be with you, you know." So he took the lead, grabbing your hand again and picking it up to give it another kiss, calming down from being that angry and upset, he even blushed a bit "I wanted to express it as best as I could but..." He looked away, in both shame and embarrassment. You frowned, knowing you couldn't just share the same feelings towards him at this situation "Bonnie I-" And again, Toy Bonnie interrupted you "But then, they came along and... Took you from me... Right when I had gathered up the courage to ask you out and tell you how much I love you from the first time I met you, they just..."

He clenched his jaw, picking your hand up and placing it on his cheek, his hand on top of yours while nuzzling against it, seeing the ever so prideful and egotistical Toy Bonnie like this made your heart break, you sighed softly, gently rubbing his cheek with your hand and he looked at you in light shock, ears shooting up in attention.

"... Thinking on it, I've always wanted to kiss you... So many times but we were interrupted, or you just left." The last part was more quiet but you heard it, it tingled the guilt inside you and just as you were about to say something until you suddenly felt his lips on yours. You stood still in shock and it caused Bonnie to inch away for a second, upset again "Hey, why aren’t you kissing back? Kiss me, me, me, me! "

The sudden behaviour had you raise an eyebrow in surprise "... Please~" His pleading expression still had you weak, so despite the strange guilt and disturbance you had on your chest, you leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

"There..." Blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment once you saw his self satisfied smirk and expression "Good~" The blue haired male laughed, cupping your face and kissing you again and again "You'll love me the most~" He hummed happily between kisses, finally gently running a hand through your hair and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, a sadistic and overjoyed grin on his face

"And I'll love you forever~"

[writing-prompt-s]

Hey there! First time anon asker, long time follower. I appreciate all the work you do for this blog. Just want to keep the conversation going about the Edison quote you retweeted, on "giving up" versus "knowing when to stop." Though Edison sucks as some comments pointed out, I happen to agree with the quote to an extent. I'm curious to know more about your experience. First, some background for my opinion: I work as a student tutor for fellow college students. One of the biggest things we learn as tutors is how to encourage students NOT to give up when they face a challenge. Lots of people, especially first-gen college students, give up when they're struggling in class because they assume they're "not smart enough" or something along those lines, when research and my personal experience show that that's not true. They are able to change their school habits and seek out help, but only if they already have a mindset where they believe they can do it. Those who don't believe in themselves are less likely to seek help and thus, more likely to fail. Students might also drop out of college or get bad grades because of things outside of their control, like losing their job or other difficulties that make it hard for them to continue at college. This is also an issue because some (not all) colleges have programs to help students during difficult times, but many students don't even try, they just drop out. I have benefitted from some of these programs personally, so even though they can't cure everything, these programs should be considered when a student is struggling. And sometimes, dropping out of college IS the best decision for a person, whether they intend to return later or go a different path. It's just that for many students, they don't have to give up on their education/career goals because of the hardships they're currently trying to work through, but they believe that there's nothing else they can do. The solution may be out there, but they "give up" because they didn't look for it. As a tutor, that's why phrases like "don't give up!" are so important for the people I work with. Not because college is for everyone or that people should sacrifice their well-being for a degree, but because students (again especially first generation college students, students of color, and low income students) have such low confidence in themselves and their ability to learn and grow through obstacles. The Edison quote wasn't about college, but I'm using my experience as a college student and tutor as a more concrete example of why the Edison quote could be useful. College student or not, I think having a "don't give up" attitude can get you through some hard times. So all of this is to preface my question: in your opinion, how can we know the difference between a healthy, "I will do everything I can to meet my goals" situation and an unhealthy, "I will sacrifice everything" situation? Sorry for this lengthy ask btw, if you don't want to respond I completely understand. Just hoping to hear your insight to the topic more. Thanks for this blog and for sharing your thoughts! -S

Hey S!

Read “The Dip” by Seth Godin. It counts about 80 pages but reads like 30. I highly recommend reading it and using the ideas in guiding your students. When you read it, it’s mostly common sense with a bit of oh damn, nice! But sometimes common sense needs to be conceptualized, made concrete, or put into context, and this little book does just that.

The main idea is to know if you should quit or persevere during ‘a dip’ by forecasting the probability of success and take costs/rewards into account.

However, this might not be everyone’s best skill, so some people might need practice or guidance. As Ray Dalio points out in his book ‘Principles’, everyone is wired differently. Just as our bodies come in different shapes and sizes, so do the compositions of our brains. Some people might have weak bones or naturally have lots of muscle mass. Others might regulate emotions well, or are weak at visualizing the future. (By the way, neuroscience tells us we can shape and improve our brains!)

The different compositions of our brains also affects communication between people. Everyone encodes and decodes information differently, and then also gets filtered through one’s own life experiences. So advice such as ‘first seek to understand, then to be understood’ is paramount before encouraging people to ‘not give up.’ If the other person doesn’t feel that you completely understand their situation, saying that actually might work counter-productive!

In my opinion, in most cases 'don’t give up!’ is a good motto for college students. You know what to expect from college. If you do x you will get x. If you stick through the dip (time spend getting good grades), you will get the reward (degree). However, as you point out, some students might face additional stress outside of college, or society might already have put them at a disadvantage. It might just become too much. You helping and encouraging students who are at a disadvantage is incredibly helpful. As humans, we are naturally wired to be interdependent. We cannot do everything by ourselves, nor should we want to. We thrive on meaningful relationships and social connections.

So where is the line between healthy and unhealthy? That’s actually a very tough question. Most people tend to think of life as a journey, always trying to get somewhere, trying to achieve something. It would mean telling people how to live their life and I have no clue. Of course, if in trying to get to your goal your body shows signs of it being unhealthy, stop or take a break. Stress is good, but not to the point where you break down. Self-management is key. Overall I would say it’s healthy if your values align with the process to achieve the goal, the goal, and the consequences of achieving it. But then again, always be realistic. Quitting frees up time, energy and other resources that can be spend on achieving a different, perhaps more rewarding/meaningful/attainable goal.

An attempt at a more concrete answer would be:

It’s impossible to generalize what is healthy and what is unhealthy as everyone has a different idea of what that is and is living their own complex life. Therefore, on a case-by-case basis, people should be taught to take a step back sometimes, contemplate what they are doing, analyse it, be open-minded, seek help from (qualified) people and ask for feedback and advice, and then make up their minds themselves whether what they are doing is healthy or not.

As @zeadtalost said in the comments: “Man’s gotta know his limitations”. But then I would like to add to it that ‘man’ should not be fool enough never to test what they believe to be their limitations. Because what you say is true. Often limitations are in the mind, and overcoming them is what will make people more confident and capable! So please keep doing what you are doing. I doubt you find this a concrete answer, but I am pretty sure the book by Seth Godin will help you lots! Also, by the length of your ask I can tell you are very dedicated and a compassionate tutor, and it’s your caring attitude that will give your students the best chance of succeeding!

[juliasjustanidiot]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 | c!technoblade

the struggles of parenting - c!technoblade x reader

synopsis: technoblade thinks he wouldn’t be the best dad when you  tell him you’re pregnant. However, he won’t know until he does it!

pronouns not mentioned, suggests female.

tw: female pregnancy, demon child

wc: 1.7K

italics represent future activities. This can also be seen as a continuation off of the scent of estrogen which was written previously by @faithajo24.

as you stared at your partner, you noticed the look of uncertainty plastered on his face. you patiently waited for him to process the news you had just told him. you honestly didn’t think it would take him ten whole minutes to process the fact that you were pregnant.

what’s there to process? you have a kid growing inside you, boom. you supposed there was also the lugging around a child that you would have to eat double to feed. going to the bathroom more frequently, random mood switches, and constant feeling of dizziness whenever you stand up, but techno didn’t have to deal with that. all he had to do was make sure you had every single food you craved-- which may change by the hour, but that’s not that big of a deal. he also had to rub your swollen feet sometimes, but hey, he signed up for that when he decided to knock you up.

in eight months, there would be a ton of wailing, a whole lotta shit around the place, and nights of listening to loud crying, trying to figure out what the small child wanted. it wasn’t that bad for him. sheesh.

“techno?” you called out after the twelfth minute passed. he just continued to stare at your stomach with wide eyes. the piglin hybrid hadn’t moved from his spot.

“this is not good.” were the first four words he chose at that moment. a large amount of hurt began to settle as you stared at your partner with disbelief.

“what?” was all you could manage to mutter. an expanding feeling of sadness overwhelming you. techno stared up at you meeting your gaze.

“we can’t be parents! i can’t raise a-a” he struggled to form a sentence, failing at getting out how he felt. the shock of practically being rejected consumed you, any happiness you were feeling before all completely disappeared.

“is there something wrong with raising a kid with me?” anger bubbling through your words.

“you? god, no, y/n! it’s not you! it’s me!” he corrected, standing from his chair, reaching out for you. his heart throbbed as he watched you move away from him.

“fuck you.” you uttered, turning on your heel to go to the exit of techno’s cabin. suddenly, you felt a grasp around your wrist, restricting you from moving any further.

“no, y/n. i’m sorry. that came out wrong.” he paused for a moment. he opened his mouth only to close it.

“yes, techno?” you said, your words laced with poison. whatever he wanted to say, he should get it out now before you start lighting things on fire with your new crazy pregnancy mood.

“i just don’t think-” he sucked in a breath, hesitating. “that i would be the greatest dad.” you cocked your head to the side, listening to his reasoning.

at this point, you weren’t sure if you should be angry at your partner for thinking he would be a terrible parent, sad for thinking himself unfit, or happy that you weren’t the problem. you decided to feel all three. “why?” was what seemed to spill from your mouth.

you didn’t understand how technoblade, the man who took in tommy when he finally recognized dream’s abuse, technoblade, the man who let ranboo move in around the area when he had nowhere to go, technoblade, the man that you loved with all your heart, couldn’t see himself as an amazing father to your child.

techno just stared at you, his red eyes expressing his affection for you perfectly. “why don’t you think you’d be the greatest dad?” you repeated, awaiting an answer patiently.

“well… there’s-there's feeding the kid!” you almost let out a howl of laughter. “what do you even feed something that small? it’s ridiculous! if i were to shove anything down that small of a throat, it would choke and die, alright? what more can i say?”

“please don’t shove anything down our future kid’s mouth.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, but it was just a thought and it can happen.”

“alright, kid.” you settled yourself on a chair in front of your kid who sat in their own chair with a chest in between the two of you to act as a makeshift table. “what do you eat?” you mumbled, staring down the smaller version of your now one month anniversary husband, but less piglin, and more cute like you.

the child just gawked at you with a big toothless grin, absolutely radiating with cuteness. “fuck, techno. it’s doing it again.” you called to your husband who was on the floor above, enchanting some armor for your little one, insisting that they needed protection despite the fact that you’ve told him numerous times that the worst thing that could happen to them is tommy getting ahold of them.

“y/n, don’t look them in the eyes! it’s when you look at them there that they get you!” he called from above.

“too late!” you hollered back, sucked into the action of looking your kid directly in their soft eyes.

with a sigh and a grumble, you heard the creaking of techno’s footsteps coming down the ladder to find you propped up on a chair and staring at your child indefinitely with an expression of utter joy as if you were entranced in their absolute adorableness.

he stalked over, picking up the tiny thing compared to him and holding them against his chest. the baby let out a squeal of extreme happiness. he took the spoon you had set down on the chest in front of you and grabbed a spoonful of the supposedly edible concoction you made for your baby.

you watched in awe as techno spoon-fed your child with a calm, affectionate look towards them. it made your heart swell with solitude.

“and-and changing it! changing the shit holder- the diaper! whatever!” he counted off the next reason.

“the… shit holder?” you asked with a look of half amusement and half confusion.

“shut up, alright? i have no clue how to be a dad.”

as you tried to tug the snuggie on your smelly child’s lower half, you struggled and watched it come undone for what you assumed to be the eighth time.

techno walked over and with a grunt said, “you’re doing it wrong.”

you huffed, “ho’kay, if i’m doing it wrong, you do it then.” you said with some attitude stepping to the side from the changing bench he installed for when your baby needed a diaper change.

he let out a small chuckle before taking over, your baby’s face lighting up when they saw they’re father in their line of sight.

swiftly and efficiently, the diaper was on. correctly. way better than you’d ever been able to do and way faster.

“you’re doing that from now on,” you hummed with annoyance, taking your child into your arms and kissing them on the cheek. “i’m not smelling baby shit for more than 30 minutes, trying to put on a diaper when my husband can do it in one.”

techno was about to protest, but stopped and held a smirk on his face. “then you’re throwing these out from now on.” he pointed to the already used diaper.

your mouth hung open before you closed it and bitterly responded with a “fine.”

“crying. what the fuck am i supposed to do if it cries?! what does it want? food? a diaper change? bouncing? fetch?”

“our kid is not going to act like a dog.” you pointed out.

“what the hell does it want when it cries?!”

the hours of wailing you had to deal with while techno was out somewhere was exhausting to say the least.

you had been left at home with your child for a couple of hours and when they started crying, it went on for hours until they got what they wanted. you had absolutely zero clue whatever the hell they wanted.

you have tried everything. you even managed to get phil, ranboo, and tubbo over to try and help you, but everything the four of you tried never seemed to work. you had come to the conclusion that your child was a demon from hell that would stop at nothing to get what it desired. if the shoe fits…

“have you tried putting your baby in rice?” ranboo suggested with a tone that made him sound like he was being completely serious.

“i’ve heard bouncing a child works! i dunno, i haven’t tried it. we’ve never had to deal with michael like this.” tubbo offered. “he mostly just makes little oinks and hops around everywhere.”

“maybe just throw the whole kid away. honestly, it worked for me.” phil shrugged.

“oh! i have nukes if we need-”

“what the fuck-” you spat as you stared at the three of them with shock. “we are not drowning my kid in rice, i already tried bouncing- it didn’t work, and phil, we are not throwing away my kid. and lastly, we are not fucking nuking my kid. at least, not without techno’s input. i can’t believe the three of you are parental figures.”

a few more minutes passed with more bawling, when your husband finally arrived home. “i could hear my baby from outside the house, why is it crying this time?” you, phil, ranboo, and tubbo all turned your head to techno with expressions that made you all look dead. “yeesh, you guys look terrible.” he commented.

“yeah, thanks, babe.” you mumbled, exhausted.

“you guys obviously haven’t tried hard enough,” techno mumbled, “because-” as he reached for his kid and put them in his arms. the demon in your demon child completely disappeared. “it just wanted attention.”

“what the hell?” you heard phil groan.

the three of you joined him in the groan, making you all sound like the undead. “it wanted you, techno.” you complained.

“good luck with that thing. i’m going to sleep. don’t call me next time it does that.” phil got up and dipped immediately, heading to his cabin.

tubbo and ranboo looked at each other and sighed. “we’ve got our own kid at home and i’m just glad he isn’t a demon like this one.” tubbo sighed.

“and michael’s literally from the nether!” ranboo added. “see you guys!”

and with that, they left you and techno and your child that was exuding happiness in his arms alone. “you are the worst.” you grumbled and climbed up the ladder to go to bed.

“i’d just be a terrible father.” techno said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “i wouldn’t know how to deal with it at all.”

“oh, i believe you, babe. i really do.”

·  · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·  ·  

written by me & edited by @faithajo24​

taglist: @aiyncel   @etheriaaly

[writingsfromhome]

Sorry x Rare

A/N: I got two lyric requests for Sorry by Beyonce and Rare by Selena Gomez. They were both sort of two sides of the same coin so I wrote them together it mostly goes from rare to sorry. Thanks for the requests, fingers crossed it lives up to what you wanted! <3

Synopsis: You and Harry have been together for a long time but he’s not the same man you fell in love with anymore.

-----

I move my dinner around on my plate, my gaze on the man pacing outside the restaurant on his phone. My man. But it didn't really feel like that these days. These days, Harry was a stranger to me--late nights, phone calls interrupting dinner, waking up to find him gone and not even sure if he'd come home at all.

I watch him remove the phone from his ear in a rush, stare at it, and then shove it aggressively in his pocket. He walks back in, cheeks pink and huffing.

"Should we ask for the bill?" He sits down in a flurry. I stare at his barely-eaten meal and my own dinner mashed to bits.

"We've barely had dinner."

"Babe, we've been here for over an hour since..." he takes his phone back out to inform me of how much time exactly but something must catch his attention because his sentence dies on his lips. I stare, he was so distant lately. "I'll drop you off at home, I've got to meet the boys they decided to talk business-"

"It's 8pm on a Thursday," I state the obvious. "Can't you catch up with them la-"

"This isn't an argument Y/N," Harry finally looks at me. He was done discussing it. He lifts his hands to the waiter and a minute later dinner's been paid for. He wasn't my baby, I think as we stroll outside to his car. I don't know who this man was.

***

I wake up the next morning with the weight of Harry on the other side of the bed. I could smell him, the booze sitting in his pores.

“Ugh,” I groan, not wanting to smell that first thing in the morning. I get up and start my day before I head to work. Soon, Harry appears squinting as I stir sugar into my coffee.

“I need a coffee,” he says, his voice hoarse. It used to sound sexy but now it was just another reminder that things changed. We lived like roommates and it hurt that he never wanted to talk. Half the time, he acted like I wasn’t even there.

I watch him settle with his coffee, taking the first sip and letting out a deep breath. A memory comes to me suddenly, the first year we were dating,

“I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” it was the first night Harry had stayed the whole night and I’d made him coffee in my outdated coffee maker. It came out burnt half the time but that morning’s cup was decent. We’re swaddled in my blankets--the room I rented back then had poor circulation in the winter.

“I think you’re still slightly drunk,” I lean my shoulder against his and cup the warm drink. “I’ve definitely had better coffees.”

“Maybe coffees are just better the morning after,” he says, glancing at me and I know he can see the flush on my cheeks. He knew I was shy talking about certain things in the light of day.

“We can say that,” I mumble into the cup. “It’s just nice to have a heat source.”

“Here,” he takes the cup from me and reaches over to put both on the nightstand.

“Hey I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know but if you’re cold, I know this other heat source--it even works for hypothermia.”

His statement causes a blood rush that warms me already but I don’t say no to what he has in mind. I could make us another cup later.

Harry catches me staring when he looks over and raises an eyebrow. I snap out of my thoughts and twist my lips into a smile, looking back at my own drink bitterly. Who was this man in front of me? Out loud, I ask: “How was your night? You came in late.”

“I was out with the boys.” he says in a tone that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. “It got late.”

“A text would’ve been nice,” I say, still looking at my cup.

“S’not like you were waiting up,” he turns to walk back towards the bedroom.

“Learned not to,” I mumble but I know he’s heard me with the way he pauses. But he didn’t care enough to argue, dispute it, nothing. He leaves.

***

"Guess who just made a commission that's more than I used to earn in a year?" April walks into the small office, an infectious grin on her face.

"You sold him on it?" I put away the file I'm working on and jump up to hug my friend.

"I had to flirt a little--give him a vivid picture of what he could have there, and he signed! I'm bloody brilliant."

April was my American ex-pat who I met when she was looking for a flat a few years ago. And now here she was, working for me at the small real estate office I managed with a few other people I considered friends.

"Do you know if he was single?" I tune back in to hear Janelle asking.

"No, don't give her bad advice!" I scold Janelle. “We don’t date clients.”

"I'm miserably single," April pouts. "I'll take advice even if it’s bad."

"Bad advice is to stay with your college sweetheart to the point where you're not sure he even cares about you." I say to no one in particular. It was just us in the office today, and they knew everything about my life so I didn't care much. But the pin-drop silence that follows is different. I look up to see my friends eyeing each other. "What?"

"Nothing." They stay tight lipped but I push and they crack. "Well, so...we know things are rocky between you and Harry..."

"Things aren't rocky," I clarify. "They're just...nonexistent."

"Right," April slides closer. "Soo, we saw him at the club yesterday."

I raise my eyebrow, "He told me he was meeting up with his boys."

"Oh!" They sound surprised I know, but they look at each other again so I push them. "He was...there was a girl? Sitting on his lap for most of the night? Like, nothing happened I don't think so?" She turns to look at April at the end of each sentence.

Personally, I feel gut-punched even though I suspected this. I knew he wasn't where he said he was going to be sometimes, or with who he said he was going to be with. But he cut our own dinner short last night to be with strangers yesterday? I grip the pen in my hand.

"Y/N honestly...you know we love you and support you. But, you're a special girl and you deserve better than that sod."

"Yeah," Janelle puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're a gem Y/N. There's someone else out there who's gonna see how rare you are."

"I know," I blow my cheeks out. We'd had different conversations like this before, although never this direct. I guess we'd never had direct proof of what my husband was doing until now though.

"He's an idiot not knowing you're so rare," my friends try to comfort me. I feel my eyes well up and I swipe at them. I wasn't going to cry at work but they must sense the tears because they excuse themselves, "We're going to get you a tea, and some pastries to celebrate April's sale. April?"

I keep my face buried in my hands as they leave, take a few deep breaths. "I am rare," I say to myself but even that makes me laugh bitterly. Harry and I had been together for 5 years and here I was trying to count up all the reasons we should stay together when he didn't even care. He was out with other women, and I was waiting around for him.

"I'm rare," I say again. "I'm special, I deserve better. I...deserve better."

When will u be home tonight? I text Harry before I lose my nerve.

Busy he says. That’s it. And then, Why?

What time? I ask again.

8 or so, he responds.

Okay, we need to talk then. I put my phone away, too scared what he might text back. A tear falls from my cheek onto my keyboard, landing on the letter H. It mocks me. I wipe it off, and before I can think about what I'm doing I smash the letter down with my fist. I stand up and walk to the back of the office, a window overlooks the busy street. I'd had enough, I decide. Fuck Harry.

I’m not sure how long I stand there stewing, but my friends walking in with pastries and tea ends the emotional boiling pot from overflowing.

"Thanks," I take the cup from them.

“So we were talking and...” April looks at Janelle and she nods. “You should come out with us some time. Like...tonight. Dance with us, with other people...”

“I...I’ve got something at 8,” I come up with an excuse. As angry as I was, I wanted to have this conversation. It was long overdue.

***

I check my time again, the last text Harry sent me Ok. But it was 8:25 and Harry still wasn’t home. I’d give him five more minutes, I decide. I’d already tried to ring him with no answer.

I stare at the ring on my finger, it was supposed to symbolize a promise he made to me. What a fucking joke. I should’ve never said I do in the first place.

Was it young love, I wonder. Did we do this too fast and we were just set up to fail? But I remember the good memories, the soft and sweet times between us.

“I-I’ve never done something like this before,” I tell Harry. “I hate heights.”

“Listen,” he crowds around me, blocking my view of his friends who are walking up the narrow trail like it was any old walkway. “You go in front of me, I’ll have my hand on your back the whole time. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

I look up into those gentle eyes and swallow my fear. “Okay.”

“I promise it will be so worth it,” he gushes, his excitement uncaged now that I’d agreed. “There’s no lights there so the stars are so bloody bright--I know you’re going to love it!”

I can’t help it, my lips crack into a smile at his boyish excitement. He catches it and pauses, a breath in this whirlwind of a night. What started out as a house party turned into a walk to a local beach which turned into a hike into the woods and up a precarious--and very steep--ridge to get to an isolated lookout. Only with Harry did I find myself in these situations. And I loved it. I loved him, I realise then. My expression must change because he tugs on my hand, probably worried I’d change my answer.

“Walk ahead,” he instructs and I nearly tip toe on the ridge that’s at least 30 feet across. But his steady hand on my back pushes me gently and I walk across confidently until I look down 2/3 of the way. I freeze in place but Harry’s ready. “Y/N, you’re safe here. Look at me-look...”

I crane my neck and he grounds me, oh my god how did I just realise now how in love I was with him? He squeezes my hand, asks if I was okay. I had to be, I couldn’t stay stuck in the middle.

Inch by inch we finally make it to the other side and I jump off with a yelp which sets Harry off in a burst of laughter. Pretty soon he’s lifted me over his shoulder and carries me to the lookout on the edge. My feet had been through enough, he’d said.

And he was right--it was so worth it; the view with all the stars laid out. The buildings and their light pollution below were blocked out by the outcrops and it made the stars twinkle in all their glory. It made it the perfect place to be with the person I loved.

“Isn’t it the most incredible view?” Harry whispers in awe behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I.....I have no words apparently,” I laugh and turn in his arms. “Thanks for pushing me, this...it was worth it.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears and gazes at me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold his gaze.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks with a smile.

“Compared to the view,” I glance behind us. “I guess I’m alright.”

“No,” he guides my face back towards his. “This view over that one, any day. M’just that lucky.”

My words die on my lips as I’m overwhelmed by this feeling between us, the one I thought would keep us together like this forever.

He raises an eyebrow when I go silent and I shrug, “I’m all out of words today.”

I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. I turn back around and we spend the moment in silence, drinking in the view. His friends chatter around us but they’re background noise. My life felt like a movie right now.

Before we leave as a group, I tug Harry back. This was a good as place as any to tell him. I press my lips to his, and it takes him a second but he’s kissing me back. Before it can get carried away I push away and tell him what I’d been thinking all night, “I love you.”

He takes a step back, and then he’s grinning and pulling me back. “I love you! I love you listen, I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks!”

“Weeks?!”

“Yeah weeks! My sister said it was too soon, I might scare you off!”

I think about a few weeks ago, I was intensely shy around him even then. Maybe she was right, but the idea that he talked about me to his sister makes me flush. I wrap my arms around his waist “I just...this moment is so perfect. I never want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” he’d promised. “I’m yours forever Y/N.”

When 8:30 comes and goes I call April, she lets me know where they were. “We’re so happy you’re coming! Are you sure you don’t want us to meet you somewhere else?” she shouts into the phone. When I tell her I just wanted to be where they were she reminds me to text them when I was nearby.

I have to dig into the back of my closet, past the pantsuits I wore to work, the casual dresses and loungewear. I still had some of my old party clothes, just a bit tighter than they used to be. But for where I was going, it would fit in.

Before I leave, I take a pen and scrawl a note: “Great talk"

My friends spot me as I walk in. The music is instantly too loud, the lights too bright, and there are too many people. But one of my them shoves a drink in my hand and pretty soon it’s the best place on earth. It was exactly where I needed to be. I turn off my cellphone and enjoy myself.

After a certain point, I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but pressed up against a body, feeling wanted, it drives me to keep dancing all night. Eventually, I crash at April’s and don’t roll out of hers until 11 the next morning. Harry’s barely an afterthought until I’m tucked in the taxicab taking me home and turn on my phone. 8 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 13 texts.

I’m shocked at the volume, Harry hadn’t blown up my phone like this in over a year. I listen to one voicemail: “Where the hell are you? I come home an hour late and you’re bloody gone with this stupid note here. Pick up! I’ve called you a billion times.”

I stare at my phone, I hadn’t heard Harry this passionate since...well it was a long time. And all it took was going out late and not answering his calls, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It almost makes me angrier; I had to partake in this juvenile dance to get his attention, even though we’d been married nearly 2 years.

He’s on a call when I get home, talking numbers or something. I head directly to the shower, clean up, and take my sweet time. It must’ve driven him mad waiting for me because by the time I’m out he blows a gasket.

“What’s this stunt you pulled last night? Wanting to talk and leaving me a stupid sarcastic note just because I’m late? Where were you?”

“Out,” I shrug. “I didn’t know you were late. You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t tex--oh I see, now we’re being petty yeah?”

That irked me, “I’m not being petty. It’s not like I get the same courtesy when you’re out late!”

“I’m busy, I can’t always be texting you!”

Excuses, I laugh and he looks at me like I’m crazy. “Busy what? Screwing other women-”

“Don’t be making shit up-”

“I’ve had people tell me that they see you with other women Harry! S’not a far stretch!”

That quiets him. Finally, he comes forward to stand inches away. “Y/N, c’mon. You and me...this is stupid. Sure I go out to party but I’m not-”

“Stop.” he was actually trying to talk his way out of this. And because I’d rather step in front of an oncoming train than cry in front of him, I head to the front door and walk out. I’d find someplace to crash today, but I wasn’t doing this.

***

“How’re you doing?” Janelle asks. I’d shown up at her doorstep and she set up her guest bed. She had plans so I spent most of my time burying myself in work, trying to get rid of all that angry energy pent up in me. Janelle had just come home.

“I’m just trying to move on. I don’t want to talk about him, I just don’t care at this point--I’m fed up!”

“As you should be,” she agrees. “Listen, I know we had a crazy night yesterday but I’m going out with some friends today and...maybe it’ll help you?”

I think about the killer headache this morning, but I also remember how good it felt to forget for a bit. I agree. Before I know it, Janelle’s found something that fits me and we’re back at a different club than the night before. Her friends are familiar faces but after a few drinks we’re all best friends. It feels great. Until I spot Harry’s face.

“That’s enough,” his face looms over mine as he pushes away the man I’m up against.

“What the fuck Harry...” I trail off as he pulls me away from the middle of the crowd. I try to pry his hand off but there’s too many people and he’s moving too quickly...and I’ve had a lot of drinks. “Let me go!” I say when we finally step away. We’re in what must be a private room. He seemed familiar with it--of course.

“So just because you heard I’m out and about some nights, you decide to come here and fuck around with random men?”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him, he was out of his mind. “I’m out having fun with my friends! I’m not here because of you.”

“Really? You come to the same place I come to all the time and dance with these strangers? And you’re drunk as fuck!”

“Since when did you care?” I ask. “Just leave me alone. You’ve been doing that perfectly fine the last few months.”

“I’m your bloody husband Y/N, you can’t just-”

“Then act like one!” I shout, and in the muffled quiet of the room with the bass thumping through it rings out. “I don’t need you! And you made it clear you don’t need me. These rings are a fucking joke, here-” I take mine off and throw it at him.

“You don’t mean it-”

“I do.” I give him a level stare, suddenly clear-headed. Maybe I’d process it later, but right now I was finally seeing what he’d become. He deserved to feel how I felt, and quite frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I flip him with both hands, “Quite frankly Harry, you can suck my d-”

“Harry!” A shrill voice rings out from the entrance that now carries the loud beats of the dance floor, swallowing my words. “Liam told me you were here!”

I glance at the brunette in the doorway and back at him. I couldn’t even muster an eye roll; I had enough.

“Y/N!” Harry calls my name as I walk out.

“No it’s me, Becky?!” she tries to correct him. I can’t help but laugh as I make my way back to my friends with a drink in my hand, feeling free.

***

“Y/N, it’s Harry. I don’t know how it got this shite just please call me back. Just give me five minutes that’s all I n--message deleted”

“He’s moved on to the office phone then?” Janelle asks, her desk was beside mine so she’d heard him as I checked my messages. It was two weeks since that glorious night when I’d dumped Harry’s ass. Although a lot of my things were still at our house, I was just staying in a hotel right now while I figured things out. One thing I knew for sure though, I didn’t want to see him again.

“It’s pretty pathetic,” I say. It was also pathetic how long I’d stayed waiting around for us to be magically fixed. But that was something I was working on getting past.

“You’re glowing without him,” April says from where she’s getting her files together. “Haven’t you got that showing out east?”

“Yeah, oh god is that the time?” I rush to get my files in order. “I’ll catch up with you later-”

“We’re still getting drinks after?”

“Yes, drinks!” I call out as I leave the office and head down to the lobby. I don’t expect Harry there, and I barely have time for him as he comes up to keep my pace.

“Harry, I’ve got somewhere to be please leave me alone.”

“Y/N, wait just please listen to me.”

“No.”

“2 minutes!”

“Not even 1,” I spot my cab out front and head towards it. I’m about to get in but Harry holds the door. “Harry let go I’m going to be late.”

“Just let me talk to you, please!”

I finally look at him and he’s quite a sight. His hair is matted and without it’s usual bounce. He’s got a rough look and a 5 ‘o clock shadow.

“You had plenty of time to talk to me for months, you were too busy at the club. Sorry not sorry,” I tug at the door and he lets go, I don’t spare a backwards glance as we drive away.

One of the showings is successful, I manage to sell the family on the home and we set up a meeting to go over details at my office later in the week. I’ve got a bounce in my step as I return to the office. I tell the girls I’d meet them at the bar as I finalize my papers at the office. My bounce falters when I go head out after 5 to see Harry waiting outside the building.

“Y/N,” he calls out when he sees me. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

“That’s called stalking,” I say. A few people walking past us turn to glance at him and he notices. He moves to the inside lobby and asks me to follow. With a big sigh I do.

“I know what I did.” he begins.

“Congratulations,” I roll my eyes.

“No wait, I know what I did to you. And sorry can’t cover it. Just let me make it up to you, we have history and-”

“You don’t get it.” I stop his monologue from going any further. “I’m gonna be just fine. Without you. You didn’t care about our history until you couldn’t have me. I don’t know what happened to you Harry, but you’re not the man I fell in love with-”

“I know,” he says, tears of frustration coating his lashes. “I fucked up, I-I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and I just-”

“Let her slip away? Is that the best you can come up with?” I scoff. “You know what Harry? I’m done with this! Boy...bye.”

“Y/N just--” he grabs my arm before I can leave and pushes something cold into my palm. My wedding ring.

“I don’t want this,” I push it back in his hand.

“Please just take it--hold onto it,” he pushes it back into mine and closes my fingers over it. “I can’t...I can’t hold onto it just take it! You don’t even have to think about it-”

“Harry,” I soften my tone. He was desperate and even though some part of me thought it was about time he felt this type of way, my heart hurt a little. I didn’t want him to see that though so I just tuck the ring into the pocket of his button up and pat it. “Goodbye Harry.”

I walk away with my head held high even though he calls out to me. I walk the few blocks to where my friends are waiting and their warm smiles are enough to help me push the memory of Harry’s teary eyes, and the real history we did have once upon a time away. I was done with him, no longer thinking about him.

I just kept telling myself, I was rare like a gem and I had to see that. And maybe one day, someone else will too.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[five-rivers]

Home

The building that housed Fentonworks had never been normal, no matter what neighbors and real estate agents might profess.

Things had happened there. Deaths. Wild twists of fate and shocking coincidences. People who lived there heard noises, saw things, felt things. Experienced sicknesses with no cause. Were cured of sicknesses without cause. Survived things that should have killed them.

It was a thin spot between worlds. Reality was a rippling membrane, frayed enough for things to shine through.

The construction of the neighborhood itself had been… strange. It happened much faster than it should have, as if there was a whole extra shift of workers on the project.

The townhouse that would one day become Fentonworks had stood out even in that mystery. Extra rooms, a basement deep enough to cause a nasty fight with regulators, features not approved by the architect.

It was a wonder they hadn’t hit any of the water lines or the sewage systems. A wonder- and an impossibility. So, the matter was ignored and dropped.

Then the next owners expanded that impossible basement, building another, secret basement and putting things in the walls- They were criminals, of course. It was expected for them to do illegal things. (Although exactly what they had done was… oddly uncertain.)

(Drugs, perhaps.)

Then, the lunatics. Then, the tiny cult that collapsed in on itself. Then the empty years, dozens of transient ghosts trying and failing to pass through, and the ghost hunters. So many ghost hunters, none of them particularly successful.

Then, the Fentons.

Then, little Jazz.

Then, little Danny.

Danny with wide eyes that saw too much.

And all the horrors that the Fentons could dream up, from living hotdogs to weapons that burned like stars and doors to places that should not be visited.

And this was Danny Fenton’s home.

.

The Manson estate was an odd case, even for Amity Park. Save for the basement, the entire building they lived in had been transplanted, brick and beam, from Germany.

Rich people were bizarre.

Even the Mansons couldn’t explain it. The man who had done it hadn’t been a Manson. The Mansons, who were relatively new money, all things considered, had purchased it from one of the man’s children. Anything to boost their prestige.

It was fancy, and it was old, a gothic and statuesque mansion worthy of its name. Still, it wasn’t quite fancy or old enough to merit the kind of expenditure moving it had to take.

Hence the rumors, squelched by the Mansons, that the place was haunted.

It wasn’t.

The rumors, however, were enough to get one Samantha Manson interested in the occult. Especially given how hard she saw her parents working to hide the rumors from her.

No. The mansion wasn’t haunted. For all it’s oddities and quirks – which only multiplied as the Mansons added more and more features to it – the building itself was mundane.

(The land it was built on might have been another story.)

And this was Sam Manson’s home.

.

The Foleys didn’t want to know what Tucker got up to in the attic, but liked to think that, with that one exception, their home was a nice one. It was on a nice street, in a nice neighborhood, just far enough away from Fentonworks to keep both sightings of the Ghost Assault Vehicle and resultant property damage and property taxes to a minimum. Within walking distance of the high school, a supermarket, and a park.

They kept the fridge and pantry stocked. Their food might not have always been healthy – red meat was an element of almost every meal – but it was always available and filling. They made an effort for the dietary restrictions of Tucker’s friends of course.

All the rooms were kept clean and neat. Even Tucker’s, by way of bribes. Everything was organized, everything had its place. Except, perhaps, for the stray shoe or piece of schoolwork.

But that attic.

It really hadn’t been anything, before Tucker asked if he could move his computer stuff up there. Just a storage space, one too difficult for either Angela or Maurice to climb up there often. They didn’t consider themselves old, but they couldn’t call themselves young either. Not with a son Tucker’s age.

Once Tucker had realized the attic was there, he had been fascinated. And, well, once he was old enough for them to not worry about him falling off the ladder, they let him go up.

Some days, it seemed, he didn’t come down.

Better than his faintly disturbing Ancient Egypt phase, where he kept bringing pictures of mummified corpses to the table. Or, worse, the werewolf phase.

And this was Tucker Foley’s home.

.

Amity Park had claimed the distinction of ‘most haunted town in America’ long before the Fentons opened their portal. In fact, that was the reason the Fentons had set up shop there, in the first place.

No haunted town was complete without at least one haunted house. Amity Park had several. Not to mention a haunted hospital, a selection of haunted schools, a haunted museum, a haunted pool, a haunted crosswalk, a haunted mall, a haunted football field… The list went on, essentially ad nauseum.

Of course, that list mostly consisted of places that became haunted after the Fentons built their portal. But even before then, some places offered their dubious charms to tourists.

Mostly gullible ones. More than half of the claims of hauntings before the portal opened were fraudulent in their entirety. These places quickly went broke and got abandoned when real ghosts started showing up.

One of these was the ominously named Raven House, which stood in the hills on the west edge of town.

The story the tourists of years gone by had been told was that a widower had lived out here, all by himself and that one day, he stopped coming to town, or paying his bills, or even getting his mail. When the mailbox at the end of the long driveway was full, the mailman decided to go check on the widower. What he found was a flock of ravens and a skeleton, entirely picked clean of flesh.

No such death had occurred there, nor in any part of Amity. No such person had ever lived in the house, either. The last owners, before the company that decided to market the house as haunted, were a couple with two children.

It wasn’t until months after the portal started up that it became haunted in truth.

.

“This place isn’t haunted,” said Danny, panning his flashlight over cobwebbed corners on the ceiling. “I don’t think it ever was.”

“That’s what, strike five?” asked Sam.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Four, actually,” said Tucker. “We counted the hospital as inconclusive, since we don’t know if anyone was there before Spectra.”

Danny nodded. “It’s weird, though, isn’t it? That no one lives here, I mean. It looks like a perfectly nice house.”

“Décor’s a bit… eh. Trying to hard to be haunted,” said Tucker, poking a raven decal on the wallpaper.

“I like it,” said Sam. “Needs cleaning, though.”

“Hey,” said Tucker, “you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Because I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal.”

“It isn’t as if anyone else is using the place,” argued Sam. “It could be a great backup hideout, if we ever had to… you know.” She glanced at Danny. “Plus, we’d be doing them a favor, really, keeping things clean and lived in.”

“I think it’s an okay idea,” said Danny.

“Yeah, but you think lots of dumb things are good ideas. Like showing up at a party hosted by people who publicly humiliate you on a regular basis.”

Danny grumbled something about trauma responses that sounded like a direct quote from Jazz and something else about that incident being ages (aka weeks) ago. Then, he brightened.

“We could get one of the little ectoplasm generators to power everything,” he said. “Remember all that stuff we lifted from Skulker and Technus? We could actually use it. Study and test things without worrying about whether our parents will walk in. I mean, your attic is great, but still.”

“Plus, we can have actual lab safety protocols. No offense, Danny.”

“I am the one that half-died in a lab accident, so… None taken.”

Tucker rubbed his chin. “Alright. I suppose I can see the appeal… But if we have stuff that can trace back to us, we could get in serious trouble."

“We’ll be careful, then,” said Sam.

“Anything I take from Mom and Dad has plausible deniability. They’ll assume ghosts stole it.”

“We also need to clean if we’re being serious about this. And get a fridge. And figure out the pluming situation.”

“Fridge is on the list. We have to be careful about the outside, too. If this place is suddenly well maintained, people will notice.”

“Sure, but that isn’t something they’d call the cops over,” said Danny. “They’ll just assume new people are moving in. If anyone sees it at all. We’re pretty far away from anything. But pluming won’t be too hard. We just need to bring our own water. Like, toilets flush using physics. If you dump more water in, they’ll go, no electricity required.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t even tell you how many time Mom and Dad blew out all our breakers with stuff in the lab,” said Danny. “You pick up a few things.”

“Well,” said Tucker, swinging his flashlight over to examine a discolored spot on the ceiling. “Then… Home sweet home, I suppose.”

.

There was a house in the hills in the west hills of Amity Park.

And this was the home of two and a half humans and half a ghost.

[fan-girling-101]

Pickup Lines

Corpse Husband X Reader

Summary: Just some pickup lines from Corpse in a round of Among Us.

Warnings: Maybe some swear words somewhere and my trashy writing.

Wordcount: 1629

Definitely not my artwork. Also I’m back and not dead. Yay! Tell me what you think and please request.

Rae, being the big sister she is, begged me until I had to give in to make her be quiet, got me to agree to playing Among Us with her gang. As in Poki, Felix, Sean, Brooke AB, Sykkuno, Toast, Fuslie, and Corpse. I have never once in my entire existence played Among Us. I stream but never this game. I mostly stream the Sims 4 and I just started The last of us two. I download the game and the proximity mod Rae told me to get. After setting up my stream and greeting the early people who come early I open the game and join the discord call.

“Rae you said you have someone new to play.” One of Rae’s friends says as I join the call. I can clearly tell from the voice that they are excited.

“Yea, she’s really annoying most of the time and we share DNA.” Rae laughs causing me to gasp. “ME! Annoying imposable!! I’m the most un annoying person in the world. The audacity you have Rachell Hofstetter.” 

“Guys this is my little baby sister Y/N.” Rae introduces me to all her online Among Us friends. A chorus of hi’s sound out in my headphone, really loud hi’s form some of them. “Introduce yourselves.” Rae commands the group.

“Hi I’m Sykkuno I have a plant hat.” 

“Ok, um Hi I’m the better sister Y/N nice to meet you all.” I kindly say with a wave though after I realize they can’t see me. “Oh God I just waved though none of you can see me. Let’s just start before I do more weird things.”

“We still have to wait for Corpse.” I let out a small oh as I mute myself and talk to chat.

“Corpse finally you’re here!” Syykuno’s voice is the first I hear in a while. He greets the player that’s 19 minutes late.

“Corpse meet my sister Y/N, she’s our tenth player.” Rae butts in before Corpse even has a chance to talk.

“Whaddup baby.” An unbelievably hot voice makes it’s way through my headphones. I just sit there stunted for a second. His voice is Godly and amazing what I would give to wake up to that every morning.

“Uh um h-hi.” I giggle out feeling my face heat up a ton. My chat is going a million miles per hour even with slow mode. The ones I can read say something like SIMP!!!, that reaction tho, look at her blush.

“Hey, that’s my sister Corpse!”

The game starts with me being a crewmate. We all spawn around a blue circle table. I stay there for an extra bit trying to regain myself. “Rachell, how do I play?” After Rae gives me a quick rundown she leaves to the left to do her tasks. I head down to a place filled with boxes. I walk in circles around the boxes for a while just for fun when a body is reported. 

“Body in Nav.” Felix says being the one to report Sean’s body. 

I listen to the conversation they all have, silently observing what they have to say. That is until I’m brought into the conversation. “Y/N you’ve been silent.” Toast calls me out. “Where were you this round?”

“I was in a room.” I start off as the others laugh around me as I try to think what that place was called. “Sus” Someone says, causing me to panic. “Wait, give me a second it was a room with boxes some of them were like floating or something.”

“Storage?” Corpse asks, again causing my face to heat up. God this man doesn't even have to say anything interesting to make me blush, he could say the dumbest thing and I’d be hooked.. “Where else were you?” Toast asks clearly, trying to sus me for no reason whatsoever.

“Um… storage, I was there the whole round running around boxes. Why you so sus Toast trying to cover up the murderer are you?” I try to throw the sus back at the man. 

People start voting so I vote for Toast because why not, he’s being mega sus. My white head pops up next to Toast’s name with a little black head. And Toast’s cyan head pops up next to my name. We get into the next round and Corpse insists I follow him, so I do. I mean who can say no to him, certainly not me.

“Wait here,'' he tells me. I stand in Caf in the top corner unsure if I’m about to be killed or not. Corpse walks out of my sight before walking in front of me. “Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk past you again?” He asks, causing me to become a stuttering mess.

“I um I… I got ta-task to g-go do.” I start walking away feeling my face heat up. But he follows after me.

“I'm learning about important dates in history. Wanna be one of them?” No matter where I go Corpse follows after me giving out pickup lines.

“I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?”

“Corpse s-stop following me I um I-I I have tasks.” I stutter helplessly trying to get away from him passing multiple people laughing at me. 

“Can I follow you where you're going right now? Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams!” He uses another pickup line before a pink body gets reported. 

“The body is in the back of electrical.” Leslie is the first one to talk. The blush on my cheeks caused by Corpse Husband doesn't feel like going away anytime soon.

“I think Y/N and Corpse came from there.” Poki adds to the conversion by throwing the sus over to me and Corpse.

“It couldn’t have been Y/N I was with her the whole round.”

“Ye-yea yes it is not Corpse I-I um I was with him.” I stutter out. People start accusing Corpse because how unserten I sounded until Sykkuno stuck up for him saying he saw us together alot. Most of us skipped except a few votes on Corpse and one vote on Toast from me. He’s still sus.

And now the pickup lines from Corpse start again:

“I hope you know CPR, because you are taking my breath away!”

“If I had four quarters to give to the four prettiest women in the world, you would have a dollar!”

“Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!”

“I'm in the mood for pizza. A pizza you, that is!”

“If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?”

“Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?”

“Is your name Google? Because you have everything I've been searching for.”

“There must be something wrong with my eyes. I can't take them off you.”

“You must be a campfire. Because you're super hot and I want s'more.”

“My buddies bet me that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful person in the game. What should we do with their money?”

“Remember me? Oh, that's right, I've only met you in my dreams.”

“I'm glad I remembered to bring my library card. 'Cause I am totally checking you out!”

“I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty good with numbers. Tell you what, give me yours and watch what I can do with it.”

“Are you a time traveler? Because I see you in my future!”

“There is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn't have your number in it.”

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

“I was blinded by your beauty; I’m going to need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Something’s wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off you.”

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line.”

“I know you vented Y/N. Right into my heart.”

That’s all I hear for the rest of my steam. Each time making me more flustered than the last. My face has been red all the time and chat hasn’t failed to notice, making me more flustered each time I read a comment calling me out.. We were all chilling in the lobby going to do our last game when Corpse decided to use another pick up line on me.

“Hey guys watch this, watch this!” He says getting everyone to stop their conversations. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hi?...”

“You remind me of the twenty letters of the alphabet.” He starts. I tilt my head a little confused where he got twenty from. But like sure dude.

“Corpse buddy, there are twenty six letter in the alphabet.” Sean says, correcting Corpse who somehow forgot about six letters.

“Silly me, silly me how could I forget U R A Q T.” Again the blush gets deeper.

“Hold up man you're still missing one you can’t count!” Felix yells out over the chorus of awww. From the rest.

“Don’t worry I give you that D later.” I think I died and went to heaven. Maybe hell couldn’t be sure.

“Woah woah woah THAT IS MY BABY SISTER YOU ARE TALKING TO!!!! KEEP IT PG!!!!” Rae yells out over all the people laughing and saying things. 

“I think I’m broken.” I whisper in my mic, somehow over all the talking Corpse heard me. “Sorry Kitten, maybe I should come over and make you feel better.”

CORPSE was banned by Valkyrae

CORPSE was kicked from the call by Valkyrae

[ragingpancake]

Another alien planet, another "ceremonial" wedding. Only they want Rodney to marry Ronon. Rodney's resigned to it (maybe even thinks it is a little funny). Ronin's rolling with it too. John isn't jealous. No siree! Not at all.

Sorry this took me so long to write! Thank you so much for sending in the prompt! <3 @exuberantocean

He’s not jealous. He’s not. What’s it to him if the Bheirats have decided that this is the perfect time and place to celebrate a marriage, just because, you know, they came through the ‘Gate and Ronon immediately scruffed Rodney to keep him from tripping over that stupid root.

And just because Rodney couldn’t stay on his own two feet, they’ve clearly decided that the reason they’ve come is to take part in their very secret ceremony and that Rodney has to be Ronon’s intended because, you know, Ronon kept him from chipping a tooth or spraining an ankle. John doesn’t care, no matter what Teyla keeps trying to communicate with her expressive eyebrows. But if he’s a little sullen as the Bheirats lead them into their village… well, that’s nobody’s business but his own. ---

“So, I think next time, we should probably, you know, weed out the planets with super secret wedding ceremonies,” Rodney says because this is their what, seventh one this year? He looks annoyed, though vaguely amused as a Bheirati woman tries (and miserably fails) to thread flowers through his hair. It’s their seventh one, but the first time Rodney’s been married to anyone but John. John’s not keeping count or anything like that, but it does think it says something that four out of those seven marriage ceremonies had Rodney marrying him, so suck it, Dex. Not that John cares. “You know, we could just… not go along with it,” he suggests and he mentally high fives himself for how not jealous he sounds, like he hasn’t got a care in the world. “You know we must take part in the ritual if we wish to trade with them, Colonel,” Teyla admonishes gently and John’s face screws up in a look of annoyance. “I just don’t think we should force Ronon to do anything he doesn’t want to do, that’s all,” John says and Ronon shrugs. “’m good with it,” he says and there’s a smirk that makes John think that maybe Ronon knows he’s not good with it, the traitorous bastard. “Hey,” Rodney says, hands flailing as the Bheirati woman finally gives up and instead plops a flower crown on Rodney’s head. “What do you mean if he doesn’t want to do it?! I’ll have you know, I’d make an excellent husband!” No one in the room agrees with that, but John grimaces. “Look, I’m just saying that we don’t have to get married on every damn planet with a ritual! That’s all.” “Uh huh,” Ronon says and he raises his eyebrow in what almost looks like a challenge. John absolutely does not like that look. “What did you tell me about weddings on your world? Someone has a chance to stand up and challenge the marriage, right? You wanna challenge?” “I didn’t say that. He’s all yours,” John retorts, because he has some dignity and is he imagining it or does Rodney’s face fall just a little? “Good,” Ronon answers and that smirk is back. He claps McKay roughly on the shoulder, enough to nearly knock him out of his seat before he squeezes gently. “Guess we’re doin’ this then.” “I guess we are.” --- It reminds him very much of this Catholic wedding he’d been forced to go to once, in that it drags on forever. John stands stoically beside Ronon, some version of a best man, while Teyla stands beside Rodney, hand never leaving his shoulder as if trying to soothe him. John, for his part, tries (and mostly fails) to keep his eyes ahead and not look at Rodney, but every so often, he glances over and meets Rodney’s eyes for a split second before the other glances away again. John wonders if maybe he has something on his face. That’s the only reason Rodney would keep looking at him like that. Right? --- “You know,” Teyla says much later that night while they’re all celebrating the marriage, “these things would go much more smoothly if you would just talk to Doctor McKay about your feelings.” John glances at her, eyebrow raised. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She hums and John gets the distinct impression that if she had her bantos sticks, she’d beat the shit out of him for that. “Do you remember M3-X456?” “Yeah, the place that made you marry me. I remember.” “Mmhm,” Teyla responds, glancing over at where Rodney and Ronon are sitting, flower crown sitting atop of Ronon’s heavily dreaded hair where he’d plopped it earlier that night. “Rodney was very put out that the Drivots chose me to partake in the ceremony in place of him.” “What are you--…?” “I am simply saying that I do not think you are the only one who would’ve preferred to take Ronon’s place tonight.” She pats him gently on the shoulder. “I shall leave you to think on that one, Colonel.” But there’s nothing to think about, because clearly Teyla is mistaken. Rodney doesn’t--. That thought dies as he lifts his gaze and finds Rodney glancing over at him again. Huh. --- They make it back home without incident, save for Ronon’s major hangover that had him

puking up his guts in the gate room, but John thinks that it’s probably serves him right. An uncharitable thought, but a thought anyway. And it has nothing to do with jealousy! Nothing at all. Except maybe it does, just a little, and that can be the only explanation for why John calls Rodney to his office later that afternoon, looking supremely uncomfortable when the other arrives. “Listen,” he says, slouching against his desk, but he doesn’t get a chance for anything else before Rodney’s cutting him off. “No! You listen, Colonel! Just because I might not be your cup of tea doesn’t mean that others are incapable of noticing my charm and, and, and the fact that I might have more to offer than just my brain! Frankly, I’m offended that you think Conon wouldn’t want to marry me! What, do you think he’s too good for me?!” “What? Rodney, no, that’s--.” “Well! I’ll have you know that you were wrong! If anyone didn’t want to partake in that stupid ceremony, it was me! If these people are going to continue to force us into these damn things, we should at least get to choose who we marry!” And John stops short at that. “… who would you choose?” Rodney goes red at that. “No one. Absolutely no one. I have to go.” He turns and palms the door open but John stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Who would you choose, Rodney?” “… if you have to ask more than once, then you already know.” “Yeah,” John says and he tugs Rodney back to him, a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. “I’d choose you too, McKay.” John’s imagined before what it would be like to kiss Rodney, but never had he expected the butterflies and for a moment, it leaves him breathless. “Would you really?” Rodney asks when they finally break apart, blue eyes meeting hazel. “Absolutely,” John says, voice raspy, breathless even. “I mean, I’ve already married you on like, what, four other planets? I call dibs.” “You—what?” John kisses him again. “Dibs,” he murmurs against Rodney’s mouth. “But seriously, you think we can go back and get them to annul your marriage?” “You’re an idiot,” Rodney says, but there’s a fondness there. “Yeah,” John agrees. “Doesn’t hurt to check though, you know?” “Shut up and kiss me again, Sheppard.” John doesn’t need to be told twice.

[erina-writes-headcanons]

How would 2p Netherlands, Switzerland, and Belgium help a S/O who doesn't handle money very well?

Henry Maes, Voss Zwingli, and Emma Maes Helping their S/O Handling Their Money

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A/N: Hey there! I am not sure if you want the 1p or the 2P Switzerland and Belgium but I decide that you want the 2P version of them. I hope I am not wrong, If I am wrong, you can tell me in the private message.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities and mention of marijuana.

The picture is also not mine, credit to the owner of the pictures.

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2p Netherland - Henry Maes

One thing 1p Netherland and 2p Netherland have the same similarity which is. The two of them love money, gold and those luxuries that are really expensive.

However there is a huge difference between the two of them. 1p Netherland is rather stingy with his spending and money but not as bad as 1p Switzerland because he would mostly buy a marijuana to smoke. 2p Netherland would rather buy some expensive things such as weapons (arms trading) to collect or golds.

You are asking the wrong person if you want Abel to help you in handling your money because he also likes to spend his money a lot unlike his counterpart but he does think it's cute that you need his help to handle your own money.

I can see he would try his best to help you by giving you some kind of notes for you to always count on how much did you spend your money that day as he follows along with you too.

However, that could fail. Not because he finds it useless but rather he would soon forget about it and accidentally would buy lots of things and drag you along to spend your time together with him and make you spend lots of money too.

Henry would also try to help you by giving you a limitation on how much you can spend on your money as he tries to also join along because I believe he is aware that he often spends his money a lot.

This also could fail too sadly. The reason is not that he forgot, unfortunately. It was rather because each time he sees something that interesting, he would be mesmerized by it and soon the stuff already got paid.

I am really sorry but he is not someone you can rely on when you want to save up your money. However, don't get too hard on him because he did really tries his best to help you in handling your money.

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A pair of (E/C) glances at the papers inside of the black purse after they/she/he took it from the backpack. Taking a deep breath, there were only a few bucks in there with most of the pocket are filled by the bills. You can feel the soul of your purse dying and all of the 'corpse' of the money is flying into the thin air.

Closing the wallet, you were trying to remember all kinds of spending after hanging out with Henry. You should have been more careful because you realize the two of you are a monster when it comes to shopping.

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒- Flashback -𐐚 ° ˚ ₒ ∞

It was a bright day outside and a perfect day to hang out together with your boyfriend, Henry Maes. The tall man decides to invite you after his meeting with the other nations. Strolling inside of the road, there were many stores selling goods, snacks, clothes, and elegant furniture made out of woods.

His green eyes glances around before there was a twinkle in his eyes but as his S/O you did not see it because you were facing away until his hands grabbed your wrist and dragged you along, "H-Henry!? What are you doing?" you were surprised by his sudden action.

"I need to buy something! There's an antique shop and I need to buy something!" Henry's eyes were shining like a child waiting for a gift at christmas time.

"Wait! But you told me to save up some money and you would save some too!" You scolded the blonde man.

"B-But...I need to buy that old butterfly knife that were used in armies during-" It's getting hard to listen to his words since he has gotten faster in every word.

"No but-" He cuts you off.

"Please!!! I mean, you can buy something from there too and I bet you would find something interesting!!" He clasps his hands together, not remembering that he made a promise together with you to be careful with the spending.

"...Alright fine. Just, don't make me buy some stuff," You roll your eyes.

But soon as your eyes laid on the beautiful figure of the general of an army riding on a horse while leading his army. You could not help but buy it along with some old stuff as a display or decoration for your house without realizing that the two of you had spend lots of money together.

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2p Switzerland - Voss Zwingli

Unlike Basch, I do believe Voss is not someone who is a money lover, unlike 2p Netherland and 1p Netherland. He is rather neutral about it.

Also unlike their counterpart, Voss Zwingli is not someone who are frugal because he does enjoy buying expensive foods, especially expensive cheese.

He is really bad at managing his own money and spending but that does not mean he is entirely careless with his own money. He is slightly a little bit better at spending his own money than 2p Netherland.

During the Great Depression where the economy of the countries were really bad back then. Voss was able to control his own budget without being too frugal by limiting his spend on expensive foods and saving a little bit of his money.

However, he only does that because it was out of desperation because he needs to pay for something that are more vulnerable than just a food with more expensive brand.

I can see Voss can help you a little bit better than Henry (2p Netherland). He most likely would remind you to save your money in a band (or somewhere else) together with him.

Voss would also be giving you a tiny notebook so you can write down on that day how much you spent your money along with giving a limitation.

Voss Zwingli can help you but not as much as their counterparts because he isn't someone who is strict. He would only help you by reminding you to save your money and to be careful about how much you spend your money on that day.

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There were many printed papers with numbers scattered around the oak table along with black ink staining those objects with the table too. A pair of (E/C) stares all of the papers and biting their/her/his own lips, counting total of the monthly spending along with Voss's spending too.

Lately, the two of you had been going around a lot and going around some restaurants try some delicacies but the two of you did not realize how much you two spending your money together when having fun, especially trying cuisines with an expensive yet delicious swiss cheese. The two of you did not realize that the two of you spent a lot on that day.

Remembering all of those events, your eyes widened before using the palm of your hand and hit yourself on the face, realizing how screwed the two of you were. You realize that you two are really bad at managing money.

The sound of the facepalm immediately made voss alert, almost dropping the book on his hand as his eyes quickly moves up to you in a questioning look. " (Y/N)? What happened?" He asks, standing up from the bed before walking up at you with worry.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh before showing the papers, showing the total of your spending together with him. Upon noticing the numbers, the male flinched in surprise before he gives the look of 'are you serious' at you. Seeing his eyes, you immediately understand what he was trying to say even though he did not spoke it out loud and giving him a brief nod.

Voss glances the floor and sight before he was sitting next to you, you were wondering what is he trying to do because it's really rare to see him like this before your eyes widened upon hearing the words that escapes from his lips.

"(Y/N) Let's make a not of our daily spending. I think I have a small notebook somewhere in our room and let's plan out budget together," Voss smiles a little bit, offering a great plan to help each other with money management.

"Sure, let's make a plan for our budget and let's be careful with our spending next time," you told him.

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2p Belgium - Beatrice Maes

I believe Emma is a mix of bad at managing her own money but also good at it but it depends on her alter because she has five alters.

Her alters Emma, Ceil and Delma are very good at managing their own money. Emma would less likely to spend on expensive stuff because she would be less likely to buy branded clothes and prefer simpler clothes while Delma along with Ceil would be calculative when she is counting on her spending.

Her other alters are Analis and Hedwig would be bad at managing at her money. Analis likes things that are 'the best' for her and thus she will buy branded stuff for herself.

Her Hedwig Alter is a hopeless romantic but the reason why I say she would be bad at managing her own money is that she would be spending tons of materialistic things for her s/o. Thus, Hedwig is as bad as Analis.

Never ask Analis or Hedwig if you want Belgium to help you to manage your own money. Ask Ceil or Delma, they would be a perfect candidate to help you.

Ceil would gladly teach you how to spend your money wisely as she would also give you some hints to buy cheaper brands, careful on how much with spend

Delma would help you but be more strict as she would scold you when you spend too much money. She would also give a limitation on how much was spent on that day. She would also scold you if you buy useless stuff.

In conclusion, if you want Belgium to help you. You have to know which alters she is currently using because those who would only be gladly help you out are only Delma and Ceil.

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Many papers were scattered on the table as sweat ran down from the top of your head and fell to the ground. The room wasn't hot nor did you just finish exercising but rather you were sweating because out of anxiety that is slowly eating you out alive.

A huge number usually makes people smile like a dork but not now, if Delma or Emma sees the number of all of your spending. You know they are going to be really angry at you before you quickly fold the papers and stand up from the table, searching for a hiding spot to hide all of those bills and papers away as you were praying internally she wouldn't find it out before going out to clear your head.

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒- Timeskip -𐐚 ° ˚ ₒ ∞

It was a long walk from your house to the nearest convinient store as it takes around fifteen minutes by leg. However, it doesn't mean it's not going to tire you out since it's an occurrence if you want to buy something, you need to go there as you won't use your car nor motorcycle since it's just a waste of gasoline.

Your hand grabs the knob of the door before twisting it around and pushing the door away to get inside. Instead of meeting an empty room, Emma was there standing u with a glare in her eyes as both of her arms were crossed. You were nervous because you had never seen Emma like this until she shoves the paper you desperately hide.

The lump in your throat getting larger and suffocation along with a sweat trickling down from your head once again" Uhh.....I can explain," you trid to calm her down.

"Explain? It is clear that you spent lots of things again. Tell me what did you buy until your bill is too high." It was Delma alter who goes out to lecture you.

"Uh...it was...a car...our car. I mean it was to pay the car repairment," you take a deep breath and look down, feeling guilty.

"....I thought you were gonna spend on a useless thing. I'm glad you spend the money on something useful," Delma takes a deep breath before stepping aside, letting you get inside.

"Thank you..." you got inside, feeling relieved that you did not anger Delma.

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[ericspinkhair]

I can make you forget

pairing: soft dom!Jacob x reader

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: your life sucks and you find yourself seeking comfort in Jacob. he makes you forget everything by making you come twice

warnings: mentions of depression, abusive parents, nipple play, squirting

a/n: idk why I was like, yes, this needs some angst. maybe because Jacob seems like such a great comfort person so I needed to incorporate that into the story somehow

masterlist + requests

reminder: requests are open :)

The stress of graduating soon as well as having lost most of your friends was tearing at you. 

There were very few people you could always depend on. You had become friends with Kevin first by having to work on a project together for biology class. You had gotten along so well that you became friends and he later introduced you to his other friend Jacob. Of course you got close to him, too. He was the most likeable person you knew. Both of them were absolutely hilarious and never failed to make the corners of your mouth go up.

However, life just felt so overwhelming at times and that would lead to you withdrawing from any social interactions. Jacob and Kevin seemed to be the only ones to understand that it didn't mean anything personal and that it was something you needed to do. And when you wanted to talk or hang out again they were always more than glad to do so.

Though you hated being in school, your home life was somehow even worse. Your parents were always fighting and yelling at each other and you often hid in your room trying to ignore them as tears were streaming down your face.

Those were the times when you seeked closeness to your friends. You never told them what about your struggles but your silence was enough to make them understand.

One night, your parents were fighting particularly hard.

'You never do anything around the house. How am I supposed to do everything around here?? You couldn't even do the laundry like I asked you to. Was that too much to ask?' your mom confronted your dad. Her eyes were glistening and you could see her body shaking. The wild look in your dad's eyes indicated that he was heavily intoxicated.

'You think I have it easy, huh?? I go to work all day, EVERYDAY, so that you can live. I don't know if you've ever noticed but kids are fucking expensive!' It felt like he was just challenging your mom to contradict him. His words made you flinch.

'She is your daughter. Of course we have to feed her. That is our job as parents.'

'I NEVER WANTED THAT JOB!' He slammed his fist on the table. Spit was coming out of his mouth. 'I told you to abort the child but you wanted to keep her. Look where we are now. You got yourself into this mess. Y/n should have never been born. Things would be a lot easier.'

You were struggling to breathe as you realized that you were the cause of your parents unhappiness. Everything felt like crashing down and you just felt the urgent need to get away.

You had been hiding on the stairs so you got up, ran down and dashed to the door.

Suddenly, a glass was smashed against the wall beside you.

'WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?' your father bellowed. He slowly stood up and began walking towards you but your mom grabbed him by the arm. He slapped her hands away, accidently slapping her.

You opened the door and started running. It was raining and the air was freezing cold but you knew you couldn't go back in. Tears were mixing with the rain drops as you ran through your neighborhood. It was like your legs had a mind of their own as they kept on running further and further. Before you knew it you were standing in front of Jacob's house.

It was already late but you could still see a dim light burning in his room. Since you had left in a hurry you hadn't had a chance to take your phone with you. You resorted in throwing the smallest pebbles you could find against his window. The rest of his family was probably already sleeping and you didn't want to wake them up by ringing the doorbell.

The curtains were pushed aside and a face appeared shortly. After a few seconds Jacob opened the door.

'Y/n? What are you doing here?' He rubbed his eyes in confusion.

You stayed silent because you were struggling to form any words that would accurately describe what happened.

'Are you okay?' he asked worriedly as you didn't move. Not trusting your voice you just nodded your head. You didn't want to fall apart in front of him.

'Are you sure?' Jacob asked again, doubting that you were completely fine if you were standing in front of his house after midnight.

'No,' the emotions came spilling out of your mouth. You ran into Jacob's open arms and buried your head in his chest. Tears were streaming down your face. He embraced you tightly and you fisted his sweater and began sobbing uncontrollably. He stroked your head in a consoling way.

'Hey… It's wet out here. We should go inside,' he suggested and put an arm around your waist to lead you inside.

He gave you one of his sweaters and showed you the bathroom.

You blow dried your soaking wet hair and changed. While the hot air was blowing in your face, you were feeling empty and exhausted.

What had you done to deserve a life like this? Well the only thing you had done was to be born but apparently that was already bad enough.

When your hair was mostly dried, you went to his room. He patted the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. You rested your head on his shoulders and you sat there while Jacob was humming a quiet tune.

'Do you want to talk about it?' he gently asked you after a while. You shook your head.

'I just want to forget everything,' you mumble.

'I can make you forget.' You were confused by what he meant so you turned your head to look at him.

He cupped your cheek in one hand and slowly came closer. He was staring straight at your lips. You closed your eyes and leaned in.

The kiss started very simple. At first they were some soft short kisses, then they became longer and you started engaging your tongues. Hands began roaming and before you knew he was laying on top of you, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck and leaving hickeys.

He helped you get rid of your (his) sweater and slowly started massaging your breasts. He lightly brushed his palms over your nipples which made them stand up hard.

He experementally licked over one of them and your back arched in reaction. While taking turns sucking on your nipples he pinched the free one to keep both sides excited.

You were embarrassed by how much these simple actions affected you. You had tried playing with your breast while masturbating before but it had never really done anything for you. Jacob seemed to know what exactly to do to get you squirming at his touch.

He seemed contented by your intense reactions and smiled encouragingly at you.

His mouth started to wander lower and lower, leaving wet kisses on your rib cage and belly. When he arrived at the shorts, he made eye contact with you as if to ask you for permission. You nodded and he swiftly pulled them down.

He intertwined his fingers with yours as he slowly started licking your wetness. His nose brushed against your clit and you moaned loudly, squeezing his hands tightly.

As he started fucking you with his tongue, he let go of your hands and instead began twisting your nipples. The pleasure you felt in two different parts of your body was exhilarating.

You didn't know how long you lay there but Jacob took his time in making you feel good. He didn't stop until you had your first orgasm. It made your entire body shake and you tried to keep yourself from being too loud.

In return, you wanted to pleasure him now but he (gently) slapped your hand away at your attempt to go near his bulge.

'No, let me make you feel good. I'm already hard enough.'

And that was true. As he pulled down his underwear, his hard cock sprang out. Pre-cum was already dripping from the tip and it looked eager for some action.

After rolling on a condom, Jacob positioned himself behind you and pulled your back against his chest. Because he had prepared you enough, his cock slid in with ease and both of you let out a satisfied moan.

The pace started off slow and you turned your head to involve him in a wet kiss. As he picked up the tempo you let your body fall onto the mattress, only your butt left sticking up in the air.

You were pulling at the bed sheets and tried to drown out your moans in his pillows. You wanted to be loud and scream his name but his family was sleeping and you didn't want to risk being caught and get him in trouble. His quiet groans were enough for you to know he was enjoying this interaction just as much as you were.

At one point you let your ass fall down and you lay there completely flat on the bed. No problem. He just parted your ass cheeks and thrusted into you like this.

His cock hit places deep inside you and riled you up even more. When you started clenching around him, he picked up his pace and his thrusts became more irregular.

He came hard and you regretted not being able to see his face scrunched up in complete bliss.

Instead of ending it there, he slid first two and then three fingers inside you and moved them fast while stimulating your clit with the other hand.

The wet noises that came out of your pussy were an indicator of just how good you felt. Unable to control yourself, juices started squirting out of you but Jacob didn't pull out his hands until you were done.

You were breathing heavily against the mattress. You didn't dare turn around because you felt embarrassed about having squirted.

'You did so well,' Jacob encouraged you while rubbing your back. He then left to get paper towels to clean both of you up.

To say you had left a mess would be an understatement. His sheets were completely drenched in your fluids and even Jacob was wet all over. He didn't seem to mind though and just calmly cleaned everything (and everyone) up.

He then pulled you close and spooned you from behind.

'I hope I could make you forget. You should know that there are always people by your side that love you.'

As you were falling asleep in his warm embrace you thought you heard him mumble: 'Just like I do.'