#I actually hate being like this sometimes

[qcatter]

A Nightmare

i hate tumblr it hates me, and nothing posts ever. on that note i was up all night haunted by Mer prowl who has seizures instead of crashes and wrote this whole thing out on my phone and it's 6 in the morning now help. why are word limits a thing even with readmores!!!> prowl is in a horror story while jazz waits eagerly for his buddy cop escapes heist can start. (prowl is in actual hell as an angel meeting a demon who's twisted like a horror funhouse mirror until he's barely recognizable as the same thing as you once.) @keferon like a cat bringing a dead fish.

Prowl sighed, swimming through the bright surface waters.  The chances of closing this missing persons case were *abysmal*.  Nothing to go on, not even a clue to just when he went missing.  Tracking down a missing mer through word of mouth out in the wilds from half (and sometimes full) feral mers.  The case was cold long before it had been handed to him.  Missing for possibly an entire moon before someone noticed and reported it.  

Prowl breached for a moment to get a lung full of fresh air and to scan the rocky coastline.  The leopard seal mer he encountered had been more concerned about Prowl leaving their territory than giving anything approaching general directions, let alone *accurate* ones.  Swim that a way for a day, zig zag through that reef, and the island with a bay that has a rock jutting out of the water that looks like a shark had a mer *cliff jumping* from impossible highs and landing into the reef a hundred feet away. 

 Completely insane and utterly deranged if not for the fact that Brainstorm was in fact, a flying fish, and was last reported working on upgrading his water pulpusion jet swim assist to work in the air. Not that he could have been leaping off of these cliffs.  The shear drop made them unclimbable,  let alone from the bay as the slope would be utterly exhausting to drag oneself up the - oh, that rock *does* look like a shark.  Well nobody said Brainstorm was anything but incredibly focused on his projects.  It did not change the fact he was not here *now*, and likely and run off after whatever flight of fancy he got caught up in. 

 It better not be humans again.  The wildlife laws protected them from getting captured or experimented on, but some mer alway got it in their head to mess with things better left alone.  Humans were dangerous, known for catching and killing massive amounts of sealife, from shrimp to great whales.  Rather ironic, as Orcas such as Prowl had a similar reputation.  A supposed genius like Brainstorm surely wouldn't have... he absolutely saw a boat or a human splashing on the shoreline and had to go poke it.  

Giving a few loud clicks to map out the shoreline. Prowl checked it against the list of human habituated island.  This one wasn't, but a boat migratory routed passed within a few miles of here.   Prowl couldn't help but grin to himself.  It might not be the best lead, but it was one that didn't involve speaking with witnesses that didnt want to talk.  Soon Prowl would be able to find what little tide pool Brainstorm had gotten himself stuck in, and get back to civilization.

Lightening flashed across the night sky, Prowl flinched back below the surface, blinking away pain and blind spots. The very air felt heavy, pressing down like the deep sea crushed organs.  Every time he went up to breathe it felt more like drowning.  Flipping back under the boat he hooked his claws back into its' belly plating.  From the tips of his fingers to the ends of his tail, he *ached* . City patrols at least had time to rest.  Trailing boats at a distance during the day was tiring, but at night it was child's play.  Humans could spot a whale breach halfway to the horizon when it was light out, but would miss him right under their noses the moment the sun went down.  The sea and storm rolled, and Prowl let it rock and cradle him against the boat.  It was nostalgic.  Comforting memories of being pressed against his mother's belly while resting growing muscles from endless swimming.  Water going from fighting every moment to easing soreness when you gave in and drifted.  His claws were numb. The ocean pulled, the humans howled and chattered to each other over head. The air was heavier than the sea and hurt to breathe, hurt to *think*.  Waves crested and caught the light of their lanterns, shattering it in the water like glass.  His hands started to shake.  The boat screamed a horrible screeching hiss as the humans all barked at it, a terrible symphony with the song of the storm. His aching tail went tense and stiff and his fins started to uncontrollably tremble.  Prowl shoved himself away from the boat and let sea hold him in its' imbraise as he fought his own muscles to grab ahold of his pendant.  The chain snapped but he managed to click the dispenser twice.  Shoving the two oily pills into his mouth he struggled to swallow past his swollen tongue.  One popped under his teeth filling his mouth with greasy oily bitterness. He gagged. A fresh mouthful of salt water washed some of it away.  Tasting salt, medication, and blood he finally managed to swallow as the waves rolled him against sand.

Everything hurt.

It was dry. The light was too bright. A howling barking collection of seals wouldn't shut up. Each noise sending stabs of pain into his head as they got closer. Something shuffled in the sand near him as a wave of water poured over him.  Something was touching him. *Hands* were touching him! With a sudden jerk as he was rolled over, Prowl awoke.

Hands were holding his face as water was poured over scrapes and gashes along his body. Blood trickled over fingers with dulll blunt flat claws as it leaked from his tongue.  A human face swam in and out of focus, muttering sounds and pointing tools.  It frowned at him. Then starting barking orders before clicking a light and shinning it at directly into his eyes.  The pain blooming from his eyes into his skull had him thrashing as humans shouted and pulled on top of him in an effort to pin him down. Vision blurred and spotting left him defenseless as a sudden pricking bite hit him and he knew no more.

Prowl awoke in a white void.

He drifted in the center.

The water tasted of salt, clean, empty and wrong.  Clicking sonar showed that it was a small room. Two thirds water, one third air.  The walls were flat and empty, as was the floor. Save for vents and light. Surfacing showed the oddly high ceiling to much of the same, save for a small flat shore and a door.  Flipping to dive Prowl stopped. Floating facing the floor, Prowl reached out and touched it, then stretched his tail. It breached the surface. One, two strokes of his tail as he swam to touch wall to wall. He turned.

One, two. 

Less powerful stokes let him do it in five. Swimming in a circle had him scrapping against the sides unless he went carefully and slowly.  Even the air was wrong. It stank of oils and grease and chemical and fish and ranked of animals.  Purgatory may have been aptly named.

A click and a clang. Prowl surfaced. The door on the shore opened. Two humans entered, grinning and chittering to each other. One stayed back while the other approached with a bucket of fish. Prowl stared, silently and flicked his tail in line order to face it directly.  It placed down its' bucket and bent down on its' strange legs and smiled at him. He bared his teeth back.  He was already cornered and caught, he refused to back down. Prowl was a killer whale, he would not shy from this thing. It grinned and begin wave a fish taunt him with it. He lined himself up slowly, holding eye contact as he floated perfectly still and perfectly pointed straight forward unblinking.  

The human rose, and began reach for the bucket. One, two. Prowl burst from the water and sank his teeth into flesh. The taste blood and fat filled his mouth as screams filled his ears. He held it down.  Digging his claws into loose false skin until they pierced the true one. Nothing Prowl caught ever escaped from him.  Something popped and pain popped against his side. Throwing himself off and back into the water he yanked the little anemone biter off of himself. It was a needle. The lights rippled and the voices swam. Prowl... drifted.

Prowl awoke in a blank white room. 

He floated in the center. The water tasted of salt, clean, blood and *wrong*.  The room was small, barely more water than air. The air smelled of chemicals, burning the inside of his mouth as he scented it. The flat shore recked of it. It was empty expect for a few stray drops of blood and an over turned bucket of fish.  Beaching himself, Prowl drug himself painstakingly slowly, one hand at a time, over to the door. The handle refused to turn.  Slaming himself against the metal only left him with bruises. After chipping his claws to till the quicks bled he finally stopped screaming. Instead he turned back to the fish, dragging himself back and begain to pick through it and began picking the bones clean. Nearly all were un prepped and raw, save one. A small mackerel had a small slit cut in it.  He swallowed it whole and gagged as the trace bitterness of meds bit his tongue and desperately tried to keep everything he ate down. He failed. Leaving the mess and the pile of bones Prowl return to the pool.

Prowl awoke in a small white room. 

He floated lopsided in the center. The water tasted of salt, clean and wrong. His fins were scraped raw. Paint had been chipped from the walls. (One, two, wall) Faint brown stains left where ever the water did not reach. Prowl did not remember making the fourth one. (One, two, wall) The lights were too bright. They never fully went out. (One, two, wall) Some machinery thrumbed and throbbed in his head.  He ached. The door buzzed and clicked. A human brought a bucket of fish inside and left it on the flat beach. His fins shook. The door closed and clicked. Prowl pressed his face into a corner and tried to block out more light with his hands but then the sounds roared louder.  He seized.

Prowl awoke in a dim dark room. 

He floated in the center peacefully. The water tasted of salt, clean, and wrong.  The spot where they injected him was sore and inched. His hands were sore from scraping them against the rock. His belly hurt from dragging it on the ground.  The lights brightened. The door buzzed and clicked. A human came in and slowly tossed fish in frount of him one by one as he ate them. He left the bones on the bottom of the pool.  The fish tasted wrong. The door closed and clicked. The lights stayed on until he fell asleep.

Prowl awoke in small white room. 

It tasted of salt and the waste and remnants of fish and wrong.  He flicked a bone at the door. It hit dead center. The door buzzed and clicked. A human came in with a bucket of fish. It tossed him a fish. He ate it. It tossed him another one. The next went high and he caught it. It threw the fourth into one of the corners. Prowl didn't even turn to look as he stared the human down. The human sighed and tossed another just over his head. He had to reach up to catch it. The human grinned. It tossed the next one even higher. Prowl had to halfway breach in order to get it. The human howled and chattered at him. It started swinging a fish back and forth before launching it straight up. Prowl stared the human down without moving a muscle while the fish landed with a plop a few feet behind. He did not move. The human did not throw anymore fish. Prowl shoved the bones into the filtration intakes.

Prowl awoke in a clean white room.

He floated calmly in the center.

The water tasted fresh, of salt, clean and wrong.  There was a hammock hanging in the water.  It felt familiar. Prowl wasn't sure if he had ever seen it before. He swam into it. It wasn't soft, but it was sturdy. A familiar dark kelp green that perfectly cradled his body with holes for him to fit his flippers in.   The hammock was too low in the water for him to comfortly lay with his head above water. With a long suffering sign he wiggled and twisted around till he was sitting up enough to lay his head on the metal pole.  The frabic was rough and hurt where his skin was soft and sore, but it was the softest thing in this room and he missed his at home.  Where he wasn't trapped and could cook his food and turn the lights off all the time and sleep in a soft woven hammock properly for hours at a time rather than constant small naps. The door buzzed and clicked. A human came in holding a bucket of fish and a long stick with a ball on the end. It stopped and stared at him. He stared back. It wailed at him and began chittering in annoyance. It waved a fish. Then tapped the other side of the shore with the pole. With a sigh Prowl pulled himself from the hammock and gave a gentle swish of his tail to reach over and grab the fish. The human tapped the hammock and dropped a fish on it.  After Prowl wiggled back onto it the human tapped its stick on the other side of the room and waited.  Prowl went over and tapped the spot. It was almost like a form of communication. Maybe if he could manage to get something across besides bared teeth and lunging, were clicks and whistles weren't.  Prowl tried tapping. The human just handed him his fish and tapped a spot way up on the shore. This was the stupidest thing Prowl had ever done. But unless he went where they tapped, it would refuse to give him the fish.  Nothing was working. Attempts at tapping and placing his fish down, throwing the fish and draging him self over to it and tapping, tapping and leaving to see if the human would go there. Nothing!  Tired and with his belly scrapped raw Prowl rolled off the shore and unto the hammock and wiggled until he had his head pressed up against the side. The human babbled at him and tossed him a few extra fish.  Prowl threw his own arm over his face and for the first time, managed a deep sleep.

Prowl awoke in that hammock with the worse crick in his neck and waist from where he was bent over himself. He slept on the shore the next day.

They took the hammock.

Prowl awoke in a small white room. He floated just above the bottom. The water tasted of salt.  He wondered if it was worth surfacing. The door buzzed and clicked. A group of humans came in. They brought the hammock back and set it up. One tapped it with the pole. Prowl swam in.  It handing him a fish and tapped the pole again and handed him a second one. The hammock lifted from the water and Prowl struggled not to squirm as he was held in the air.  Hands brushed along him through the frabic and down his tail. One pair grabbed his fin and pricked it with a needle. Just as suddenly they backed up, barked at each up and lowered him back. They gave him the rest of the bucket and left him there. Alone, in a hammock. This time it was high enough to layout and rest his head. Prowl slept.

Prowl awoke in a Hammock in a bright white room. It was the only thing in there besides himself.  The lights pulsed. He drug himself to shore and shook stiffly through his seizure. He stared fixed at the one brown splatter of dots on the wall that looked like a fish hook. The door buzzed and slammed opened and humans rushed in and started pawwing at him. They shoved him down and rolled him into the hammock and lifted him through the doors. Frozen and shaking he watched. Down halls and past many doors until they reached a room that smelled so strongly of chemicals he could taste it through his blood.  The humans frantically yelled and barked until finally after one of the needles they jabbed him with made him black out.

Prowl awoke In a small white room

The fish tasted different, but in a familiar way. The bitterness matched that of when he would bite through his perscription. The water still tasted wrong.

Prowl drifted and awoke.

The humans would try to make him follow the pole where they tapped it, and jump for his fish. He often would not.  It was easier not to but there wasn't enything else. There was nothing to do but drift after listening to his own screams ringing in the silence. 

So Prowl drifted.

[helen-with-an-a]

do ale/amor deal with any jealously issues?

specifically with it being amors first real wlw relationship

also if alexia’s past with Jenni is in this world does amor cope with that very well

I feel like when amor goes to England camp alexia isn’t jealous she’s just clingy because she misses amor but she does get a little stand offish when everyone is speaking in rapid English and using slang and she’s like wait what is going on, or when the girls tease amor about people from her past because they grew up together

but amor is like you can’t be jealous I only ever hooked up with those girls I only love you, but Alexia has an ex who she was with for a longggg time and amor could spiral and try and compare the two. Also the same issue when alexia and Jenni meet up and speak rapid Spanish and Amor is standing like what are you talking about!

Ok so lemme split this up, yeh?

Jealousy surrounding Alexia-Jenni relationship

There was a little bit at the beginning

Not so much in the sense of like ‘omg what if Ale still likes Jenni’ type jealousy because it is painfully obvious that Ale loves Amor so so so much

But more ‘omg what if Ale realises she wants someone who’s got experience in relationships/wlw relationships’ but that was quickly shut down with just how in love Ale is

It took Amor a minute to figure out Jenni and Alexia’s friendship but she’s chill with it all - she was more confused rather than unhappy about it

Amor knows that Ale would rather die than do anything remotely disrespectful and she knows she doesn’t have to worry about that at all

Amor is actually pretty good at Spanish now so Ale and Jenni chatting shit doesn’t really bother her, she can keep up fairly easily - it’s when Ale forgets Amor is there and starts yapping in Catalan around her friends and family that Amor is like babes stop

Jealousy surrounding National Camps

They both hate that they didn’t meet sooner in life but they can’t really change that

There is a little bit of confusion around the languages sometimes and they both feel a little left out at times but the other realises really quickly and fixes it asap

After tournaments both their accents get thicker and it takes them a minute to figure out words sometimes. They’re both like huh? when they come back from a tournament and have strong accents again and use slang without thinking

They don’t really get jealous over the friendships and stuff in the camps themselves - both know nothing would ever happen and they’ve all been friends for years/grown up together

[itsacruelsummerbaby]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍

The Red Thread of Fate… To your surprise, it turns out Hotch believes in it.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader || tags: fem!reader, bau!reader, soulmate AU || wc: 1.2k || navigation

You put the cup of coffee on the table in front of you, then pick up the Cosmo you left open. Out of the corner of your eye you see the small half-smile that appears on Hotch’s lips at the sight, but he doesn’t say a word, he just returns his attention to the report in front of him.

“I hate these articles so much,” Emily suddenly says in the seat next to yours, pointing at the page you’re currently reading. You send a questioning look her way, and she turns in her seat to face you. “I once took their “signs he’s into you” piece seriously, made a move on the guy, and it turned out he was into men.”

Somehow Derek heard this story over the music he was listening to, because he pushes the headphones down to his neck as he laughs. “Don’t tell me you actually used to believe what they write. It’s all stupid,” he says.

After briefly wondering if you should kick his shin under the table, you decide it’s not worth the fight. “It temporarily shuts down my brain,” you begin to explain. “That’s more than enough for me.”

Suddenly, Hotch lays the report on the table and raises his gaze to look at you. “Good thinking. I would have been disappointed if it turned out you’re the type to consider this magazine as some sort of a Bible for women.”

Derek and Emily exchange glances, and even you raise your brows in surprise. Why is he paying attention to a conversation about such a magazine? Not like you mind, of course, which sometimes truly bothers you. You shouldn’t want his attention this badly, your dreams shouldn’t be plagued with thoughts of him being with you.

It all began when the first signs of troubles with his marriage began to show. You saw that something was eating him, so one day after work you went to his office and started a conversation to figure out why he always stayed late. For some reason, he decided to tell you the truth, going into details that were none of your business.

Is it an emotional affair? Maybe.

Is it bad? Probably.

Are you happy to have even a scrap of his attention? Surely.

“Did you really think that’s a possibility with me? That I’m like that?” you ask hesitantly.

Hotch’s gaze is fixed on you, as it was just the two of you on the plane. “No,” he admits softly.

The way you’re looking at each other piques the interest of your colleagues, and not just Emily and Derek’s, but JJ and Rossi’s too. Lucky to you, Spencer is sleeping peacefully on the couch. To make sure your boss finally stops, you tear your gaze away and gently bump your foot into his leg.

Sadly, Hotch takes this as a challenge and hooks his legs around yours while returning his attention to the report. The others lose interest eventually, hopefully letting this go for now. It’s bad enough that the man across from you is playing some stupid game with you.

This is the first time he makes such an obviously flirty move, which leads you to an uncharted territory. Is he planning to take whatever is going on between you to another level? Because if he is, you’re not really sure if you’re ready for it. He’s still married, even if Haley wants a divorce, you can’t jump into a relationship with him.

When you try to untangle your legs, he subtly glances over at you with a disapproving look, one which tells you he’s not letting this thing between you end anytime soon.

You know for a fact that he and Rossi had a glass or two of whiskey at the airport while you waited for the jet to be ready, but after this case, you honestly couldn’t blame them. Maybe it’s the alcohol that gave him the courage to make a move on you, but you’re afraid he’ll regret it the next day when he sobers up.

It’s your responsibility to be smart, to help him without making him believe you want something from him. He’s handsome, intelligent, competent, and yes, every woman would be happy to have him for herself, but the timing just isn’t right.

Less than two hours later the plane lands and the team disperses to finally head home, and sadly Hotch uses this opportunity to catch you alone. He gently grabs your wrist to make you come to a halt, and when you give him a questioning look, he just shakes his head and pulls you in the direction of a place in the hangar that’s far away from everyone.

“You need to stop,” you tell him right away.

He lets out a sigh and takes a step closer to you, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. That pull, that goddamn force every time we’re close to each other. Hell, it’s even present when we’re apart, trying to get me to see you again.”

It’s insane; he’s insane if he honestly believes this. “And what is this… pull exactly?”

“It was a mistake to make you forget it,” he whispers when he rests his forehead against yours. “If I hadn’t done that, we would be together now. Maybe Haley and I would have never gotten married, because I would have been waiting for you to be old enough.”

Making you forget? “What are you talking about, Hotch?” you wonder, the conversation making less and less sense to you.

His hand drops to his side and he takes a few steps back. “You wouldn’t believe it, it’s better if you don’t know. Forget I mentioned it,” he says with a small, sad smile.

But there’s no way you’re letting that slide now, you need to know what’s happening, so you reach out for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly. A move that makes him take a sharp breath, as if your touch sent a wave of electricity through his body.

“What wouldn’t I believe?”

“That we belong together. You always found me when you were little, you were honestly getting on my nerves sometimes,” he says with a short laugh. “But… I got scared of what this was, what this could be, so I asked someone to make you forget about me, about that string that connects the two of us.”

This rang a bell in your head. “Like the Red Thread of Fate or something?” you ask him quietly, unsure about the whole thing. He nods, but remains silent, so you go on. “Hotch, it’s… Why would I believe you?”

“You don’t have to. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe you really did forget about this for good, and in that case I'll have to accept that you will never love me back. Unless, of course, you’re willing to give me a chance,” he says softly.

Blowing out the air you’ve been holding in gives you time to think it through. It must be the alcohol, there’s no other reason for this stupid story. But in that case, why doesn’t he look drunk? After another few seconds of waiting, you let out a sigh and give him your answer, hoping he will come to terms with it eventually.

[lilghostiequinni]

Never Out There

Main Masterlist Carlos Masterlist

Pairing: Wife!female reader x Carlos Sainz Jr

Warnings: Fluffy, None

Summary: No one knew that your relationship had gotten far. Having only been public for a few months, people thought he was only your boyfriend, not your husband.... to the father of your child.

Requested: NO / yes

When you went public with Carlos, it was by accident.

You had been out with him and Lando in Monaco one day, and Lando said something that made Carlos kiss you, and Lando just chuckled and held up his hands when he did.

Well, it was caught on camera by a couple of fans, and so you and Carlos decided to announce it to the world that you were together rather than let rumors go around about your "supposed" relationship.

Though no one knew the extent of your relationship with Carlos, most thought that you had only just gotten together.

But the two of you had, in fact, been together for over ten years and married for seven.

You two also had three children, Carlos, age five; Landon, age 4; and Miliea, age 2, with a fourth on the way, but there was no bump in when the world found out about your relationship; it was why you and Carlos were out with Lando in the first place.

Kelly was your best friend on the grid the two of you bonding about being pregnant at the same time.

When you did start to show, you made a post about how much you loved your husband.

It was how you announced your pregnancy, seven-year marriage, ten-year relationship, and three other children to the world.

It wasn't conventional, but very you and on brand for what Carlos knew of you and what the world knew of you from what Carlos had told them.

There were many edits of the two of you, of how Carlos looked at you the same way that he and Lando looked at each other, and you thought the edits were like that were funny, the ones comparing you and Carlos to Carlos and Lando.

You would send those videos to Lando and to Carlos.

They would sometimes chuckle, and others just shake their head at you; Carlos was mostly the latter, while Lando chuckled.

Your kids loved their Uncle Lala; they got the name from Lando's niece, Mila, when you brought them to McLaren, and Lando's family was there.

When your relationship went public, you expected more hate than you actually got because you had seen what some other WAGs get it horrendously bad with the hate.

You didn't want that, but there were more supporters than haters, and you barely saw the hate comments because you were often too busy with your three, sometimes four children on top of your pregnancy.

But everything was good in your life with Carlos, and you were happy with him and the family you built.

It got ten times easier when everything was out in the open, well, the less private bits weren't but, most of it was out there for the world to see and judge, and you were okay with that.

A/N: Winner in the 300 Follower Cele This or That poll

Tags: @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @ellen3101 @barcelonaloverf1life @charli123456789 @amz824 @diaryofarandomkid @hadids-world

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[gingerteafairy]

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader part one here

summary: Warren weren't that prepared for the silly little thing called love, learing that, sometimes, you really need to fight for it (literally).

tags n warnings: highly suggestive (can be categorized as smut, but it's too small for that), language, fights, blood, angst, some sensitive topics. word count: 13k

Rule #5: Appearances Can Be Deceiving

Warren adjusted his tie around his neck once more, huffing as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He absolutely hated this. Ties, polished shoes, neatly pressed shirts... If it were up to him, he would’ve shown up in ripped jeans and an old t-shirt. Or better yet, naked—if that weren’t illegal. But there he was, in a freshly ironed blazer and expensive cologne.

And why?

Because of you.

You, who made him spend beyond his budget on a small bottle of sophisticated perfume. You, who convinced him to actually wash his hair, tying it back into a decent ponytail. You, who made him use the fancy deodorant he reserved for special occasions. His shaved face, smooth as a baby’s skin. You, who made every bit of effort feel worth it.

“Yeah. Okay.” Warren took a deep breath, snapped his fingers, and lightly slapped his own face. “Oh, almost forgot.”

He rushed out of the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he hurried to the living room. On the table, a narrow vase held a bouquet of red tulips, a folded note tucked between the petals. His name, written in his messy handwriting, made a smile involuntarily tug at his lips. He picked up the flowers gently, inhaling their scent, blinking a few times as if it brought him back to reality.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

He left an hour early, driving with an uncommon focus, determined that nothing—traffic, long traffic lights, or bad luck—would ruin this evening.

A familiar tune started playing on the radio, and without thinking, he began singing along.

“Close your eyes, give me your haaaand… Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understaaaaand?”

He was so caught up in the excitement that he didn’t even notice the strange look from a man in the car next to him, stopped at the red light. When he did, Warren furrowed his brow and slapped the side of his own car.

“What’s your problem?”

The man frowned, rolled up his window, and drove off when the light turned green.

“Coward.” Warren rolled his eyes and kept singing, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Am I only dreaming aaaaa… It’s eternal flaaaame.”

The tires slid smoothly along the road until, finally, his house came into view. Warren took a deep breath, turned off the radio, and replaced it with the CD he’d burned earlier that afternoon—but decided to keep it silent.

Before getting out of the car, he glanced in the rearview mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, made sure his beard was still in place, adjusted his collar, and cracked his neck to release the tension.

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispered to himself.

Then, he stepped out before his nerves could talk him into turning back.

He walked with determined steps to the door, straightening his posture. When the door opened, the sight in front of him stole all the air from his lungs.

You looked stunning.

The silk dress hugged your curves just right, elegant without being over the top. Your makeup accentuated every contour of your face, the sparkle in your eyes, the soft lipstick. Every detail contributed to the perfect image that Warren couldn’t stop admiring.

“My God…” He swallowed hard, blinking several times, making sure he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re…”

The word vanished from his throat.

“You’re… amazing.”

You smiled, blushing slightly as you adjusted the strap of your dress.

“Thank you.”

Warren blinked, as if returning to reality, and quickly extended the bouquet toward you.

“Oh! These are for you.”

“For me?” Your smile widened as you took the flowers, examining them with affection.

“I hope you like them…” He murmured, a little shy, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to hold back the grin that kept wanting to break free. You grabbed the small note tucked between the flowers, your name written on it in his handwriting.

“Hey, don’t open it yet.” Warren’s voice came out hurriedly, and he gestured with his hands as if trying to stop your movement in midair. “Wait until I leave, please.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow, pretending to open it.

“No… it’s just…” He took a deep breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at the ground. “I’m embarrassed, that’s all.”

You laughed softly.

“You’re not embarrassed to kiss me in front of my house, but you’re shy about a little note?”

“It’s different, okay?” He grumbled, looking at you from under his lashes. “So… shall we go?”

You nodded, closing the door behind you. He extended his arm, and you slipped yours around his as you both walked to the car.

When they arrived, he opened the passenger door for you, tilting his head slightly in a chivalrous gesture.

“Wow, such a gentleman.” You teased as you got into the car.

“I always do this.” He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue before walking around the car and sitting in the driver’s seat.

He turned the key in the ignition, and before starting the engine, he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“Did I ever tell you that you're the most beautiful thing in the world?”

Your face flushed, and an enormous smile spread across your face before you could even reply.

“No.”

“Well, let me tell you now. You look absolutely wonderful tonight.” He flirted shamelessly, not taking his eyes off you as he pressed the button on the radio.

The soft intro of Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton began to play.

You widened your eyes, surprised by the coincidence.

“No way, Warren.” You laughed, bringing a hand to your face. “Oh my God!”

“Casablanca, my dear.” He winked and started the car.

The music filled the car’s interior, and you let yourself sway gently to the rhythm of the melody. Warren, at the wheel, hummed along, occasionally pulling faces and pretending to play air guitar, making you laugh every time.

The CD playing was made specially for tonight. Warren had burned it earlier that afternoon, carefully selecting each track, though you might never know that little detail.

Or maybe, in a few years, he would tell you.

But not now.

Now, he just wanted to enjoy every second of this moment by your side.

The venue was packed, and that was clear as soon as they pulled into the parking lot. Cars lined every available space, and an excited buzz could be heard coming from inside the club, as if the very air was charged with festive energy.

Warren parked and, before even turning off the engine, he turned to you with a soft smile.

“Ready?”

You nodded, adjusting your dress over your legs.

He got out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door with a gentleman’s flourish. He extended his hand to you, firm and steady, his fingers warm against the cool night air. You took his hand, letting him help you out with grace, avoiding any misstep in your high heels.

Warren didn’t immediately let go of your hand. He kept his fingers intertwined with yours as you walked toward the club’s entrance. The red carpet led up to the main door, where a tall, serious-looking security guard stood waiting to check invitations.

He handed over the passes, and without delay, the security guard allowed them through. Once inside, a subtle mix of floral scents and fresh food enveloped you both. The hall was beautifully decorated, with sparkling chandeliers casting golden light across the room. There were snack tables strategically placed, while waiters moved around offering glasses of champagne. Background music played softly, blending with the hum of lively conversations.

Warren leaned in slightly toward your ear, his voice low but laced with genuine concern.

“Are you comfortable with all this?”

The warmth of his breath brushed your skin, sending a slight shiver through you.

“Yeah… it’s fine.” You reassured him, glancing around. Some familiar faces appeared, while others were just blurred figures in the crowd.

He didn’t seem entirely convinced. His hand gently slid to your bare back, the tips of his fingers caressing you softly, discreetly.

“If you want to leave, you know you can tell me.” The firmness in his voice was comforting, like a silent promise.

“Thank you, Warren.” You smiled, biting your lip lightly as you felt his almost protective touch.

His response came in the form of a gesture: his hand slid to your waist, fingers tightening slightly, as if reaffirming that he was there for whatever you needed.

“Hey, sweetheart! How are you?”

The sweet yet vibrant voice made you turn. A well-dressed older woman approached with a warm smile, the gleam in her eyes revealing genuine affection.

“Mrs. Beavers!” You exclaimed, opening your arms to welcome the woman's gentle embrace. “How are you? It’s been such a long time.”

Warren took a subtle step back, observing the interaction with curiosity.

“I’m doing great, darling.” Elizabeth Beavers pulled away slightly, holding your hands with warmth. “You look radiant tonight. More beautiful than the crystals in these chandeliers, and trust me, we paid a fortune for those.”

You smiled, feeling your face warm at the compliment. “Thank you. And you, Mrs. Beavers—you're still pure luxury and elegance.”

Elizabeth laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You’re quite the charmer.” She teased, giving your hand a light, affectionate pat. “But call me Elizabeth, you know I feel ancient when you call me Mrs.”

She then shifted her attention to Warren, appraising him with a long, discerning gaze.

“And who’s this handsome young man by your side? Your boyfriend?”

Warren, who had been silently observing until now, straightened up and extended his hand casually.

“Warren Lipka.” He said with a half-smile, sensing that Mrs. Beavers posed no threat.

“An exotic name for such a charming man.” Elizabeth quipped, winking her green eyes. You wondered how someone as sweet as her had ended up with a son like Daniel. They didn’t even seem related, much less mother and child. “And where’s Luke? He must be growing up fast.”

“At a friend’s house. They’re playing camping.” You responded, watching Elizabeth nod in approval.

“How wonderful.” She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You should swing by my place to pick up your gift later; I’ve got a little surprise for you, too.”

You laughed, already imagining what it could be.

“My dear boy,” Elizabeth continued, turning her attention back to Warren with a fond look. “Did you know this lovely lady was the most beautiful girl in school when she was 17?”

“Really?” Warren raised an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form on his lips. His hand returned to your waist, pulling you gently closer.

“Yes! The prettiest of them all.” Elizabeth sighed dramatically, fanning herself with a lace handkerchief. “And when I saw how sweet she was… Oh my, I nearly disinherited the useless Daniel just to have her as my daughter.”

Warren chuckled, enjoying the conversation more and more.

“And it looks like her little party girl is all dull and dreary,” Elizabeth added, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, Elizabeth, you’re being harsh.” You teased, laughing as you leaned in closer to Warren, settling against him in a side hug.

“My dear, she’s awful, dreadful.” Elizabeth shot a conspiratorial look. “If she ever dreamt Daniel had a kid with someone else, I’m sure she’d cancel the wedding.”

Warren, who had just been following the conversation up until now, furrowed his brow in confusion and made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Wait… she doesn’t know that they…?”

“Of course not, darling.” Elizabeth made a face of boredom. “You think he’s going to tell that airhead he had a life before her? Not a chance!”

Warren turned slightly to face you, leaning in to murmur in your ear.“Can I go beat him up now?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.“No.” You whispered back, trying to hold back your laughter before returning to the conversation.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s really you!”

The excited voice made you turn instantly, only to be pulled into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of floral perfume surrounded you, and even before seeing her face, you already knew who it was.

“Claire! Oh my God, it’s been forever!”

The hug was strong, almost overwhelming, but completely filled with affection. Claire pulled away just enough to hold your arms, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she took in your appearance from head to toe.

“You look stunning!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly before casting a playful glance to the side. “And who’s this, huh?”

The mischievous tone made you smile even before you could respond.

“This is Warren. He’s with me tonight.”

Warren gave a small nod, his eyes quickly scanning Claire before returning his gaze to you.

“Hmmm, bad boy vibe.” She teased, laughing, and you had to hold back a laugh too. After all, he was a bad boy, in a way.

“I get a little crazy with this, you know.” You said, winking at Warren before turning your attention back to Claire.

Before Claire could reply, Elizabeth rejoined the conversation, hooking her arm around Claire’s with a motherly smile.

“Claire, darling. We were just talking about Honey.”

The expression on Claire’s face shifted instantly, the laughter vanishing as pure disdain filled her gaze.

“That one’s even dumber than Dan.” She spat, tossing her long blonde hair back with an exaggerated motion. “The bitch said I use hydrogen peroxide to lighten my hair. Well, she’s the one who needs it to clean her rotten soul.”

“Claire!” Elizabeth scolded, furrowing her brows.

“Oh, Mom, stop. I know you were saying the worst things about that air head.” Claire crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes with amusement.

“Anyway, folks. I’ve gotta go. My boy’s waiting for me. My hot nerd is finally on my hands” Claire said, sending you one last knowing look.

“Tell me all the details later.” You teased, laughing.

“The normal ones or the hot ones?” She shot back, grinning slyly. “You know I can't stop talking about my love life, sunshine. You’re the only one who can match my freak.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and Claire blew a kiss before disappearing into the crowd.

“But Warren,” Elizabeth turned back to him with a playful tone, “If there’s one thing time has done for this girl, it’s made her even more beautiful.”

She pointed to you, a mischievous smile curling on her lips.

Warren looked at you for a moment longer than necessary, as if absorbing every detail of your face before responding.

“You seem like a good man.” Elizabeth continued, her eyes evaluating him. “Can I rest easy?”

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly. “If it’s up to me, you can sleep soundly.”

“Brilliant.” Elizabeth smiled, clearly pleased with his response. “Now, excuse me, I need to speak with Denver.”

She kissed you quickly on the cheek before heading to a nearby table where an elegant man waited.

Warren followed her movement, and upon seeing her greet the man with a kiss on the lips, he furrowed his brow.

“Oh… that’s Denver.” His curious gaze landed on you. “Don’t you think old couples kissing is kinda gross in a cute way?”

You simply smiled, watching them together. “Thirty years married. Can you believe it?”

Warren whistled lowly, shaking his head. “Seems almost unreal.” He mused, then turned his attention back to you. “Where do you want to sit?”

You scanned the room for a moment before pointing to a table further away from the bustle.

“Hmmm… how about over there?”

“Perfect.”

His smile was genuine before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. That simple gesture made your chest warm.

When you reached the table, Warren pulled a chair out for you, ensuring you were comfortable before gently pushing it back in place.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked, already scanning the room for the bar.

“Sure. Whatever they have. I trust your judgment.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s dangerous.”

You just laughed and shook your head, watching him walk away toward the bar. While you waited, you couldn’t help but watch Warren for a few seconds, admiring the way he walked with such confidence. His hair perfectly tied back in a ponytail, the sleeves of his jacket fitted just right, subtly revealing the hidden strength in his forearms.

Yes, you definitely trusted his judgment.

You rested your chin on your hand, your eyes following Warren as he approached the drinks table. He seemed lost in the vast array of options, furrowing his brow as he scrutinized the machines. His nose wrinkled slightly in concentration before he pressed a button – and immediately, liquid spilled over the edge of the glass.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“Oh, darling. You never learn, do you?”

The unexpected voice sounded far too close to your ear. Your body stiffened instantly, a chill running down your spine.

Daniel.

You turned your face and came face-to-face with him, his breath hot and laced with false sweetness brushing against your skin.

“Sorry… did I scare you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly composed your expression.

“No.” You coughed, subtly shifting your chair back with a calculated movement. “What were you saying?”

“About your boyfriend.”

Daniel’s smile was sharp, predatory. He crossed his arms, eyes darting between you and Warren, who was still fumbling with the drinks machine.

“I’ve done some research on him.”

Your jaw tightened. You kept your posture firm, but your shoulders instinctively tensed.

“And what does that have to do with your life?” Your voice came out cutting, harsh. You stood up, your body automatically adopting a defensive stance.

Daniel chuckled lowly, tilting his head to the side as if amused by your reaction.

“You always surprise me, doll. It was one of my favorite things about you.” He took a step forward, his hand reaching toward your face. You caught the movement before your instincts could even react – and you stepped back.

“Enough talk, Daniel.”

Your hand rose instinctively, slapping his with a firm strike. The sharp sound echoed between the two of you.

Daniel laughed. A low, drawn-out laugh. He glanced at his now slightly reddened hand and shook his head, as though genuinely impressed.

“Got some strength, huh?” He lifted his eyes to yours, a twisted glint in them. “They say bad company corrupts good manners.”

Your blood boiled. Your breath quickened. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes.

“What did you say?”

Your voice came out louder than expected. The buzz of the room quieted, and like a domino effect, people began to notice the tension between you two.

Daniel saw it. And he reveled in it.

He grinned, leaning dangerously close to your ear.

“Prisoners really cause some serious damage, huh?”

Shock ran through your body like a jolt of electricity. Your stomach dropped instantly, as if the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. Without thinking, you shoved Daniel hard, feeling the tension burst from within you. He stumbled backward, his feet sliding on the floor, but, surprisingly, didn’t lose his balance. Instead, he let out a loud, cruel laugh, as if it were just a game to him.

“What was that?”

Warren’s deep voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, penetrating. His expression was loaded with controlled fury, his eyes fixed on Daniel with an intensity that seemed capable of piercing through anything in its path.

You blinked, your heart pounding as if you had just run a marathon. Your gaze quickly scanned the room, trying to anchor yourself to something familiar, until your eyes found Warren’s. He was by your side now, the forgotten glass on the table, his jaw set, the muscles in his face clenched in a tense expression. The silence between you two was thick, like a bomb about to explode.

“What was that?” Warren repeated, his voice now lower, but the threat in his words was palpable, like a blade ready to cut.

On the other hand, Daniel, with a fake smile plastered on his face.

"She's so good when she's like this, isn't she?" His voice dripped with provocation.

Before you could react, Daniel casually reached out and brushed a hand over Warren's shoulder, as if brushing invisible dust off his suit.

"She only likes the ones who are at the bottom of the barrel. Such a masochist. Delicious in bed."

Warren froze.

The air grew heavy. You felt his body stiffen, the muscles in his jaw tightening. His gaze, once sharp, became lethal.

"What did you say, you motherfucking piece of shit?" His voice was low, hoarse, almost a hiss. He took a step forward.

"Did you learn that vocabulary in life or in prison, mate?" Daniel scoffed, his eyes swiping up and down Warren's body with calculated contempt. Warren's blood boiled. Without hesitation, he grabbed the collar of Daniel's suit, pulling him roughly closer. 

"Say that again if you dare." Daniel laughed. An irritating, petulant laugh that only served to inflame Warren's fury even more. 

"Looks like not much has changed since then." He shoved Warren hard, smoothing his jacket as if to erase his touch. Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and venomous. "Enjoy your little friend while you're at it. She'll have a baby with you when you start to get on with life." Just like he did to me and that little freak of yours." 

That was the last straw. Warren's punch landed squarely on Daniel. The impact was sharp, brutal. Daniel stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, clutching his face with a groan of pain. 

"Shit!" He yelled, pulling his hand away to see the blood running down his nose. 

"Warren, no!" You ran to him, but Warren was already blinded by rage, climbing on top of Daniel to throw another punch. 

The guests around you froze, some murmuring in shock, others watching the scene without being able to look away. Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, and you saw, in that instant, her heart breaking into pieces. Your own chest tightened—not for Daniel, but for her. Despite everything, he was still your son. Denver looked away, hiding his face in his hands, unable to watch. 

"Come here, honey." Claire pulled you by the arm, pulling you away from the fight that was unfolding. in an increasingly bloody manner. "You'll end up hurting yourself if you get in the way."

His body shook, blood pounding loudly in his ears. "Say that again." Warren's voice was a growl as he grabbed Daniel's collar, pushing his head against the floor. "Say it, you fucking bastard. Say on my fucking face." 

"Security!" Daniel screamed, twisting to try to gain control of the situation and landing a blow on Warren. The impact made a cut open at the corner of his mouth. Warren laughed. A harsh, almost animalistic laugh. 

"Even Luke can be stronger than you." 

The name hit Daniel like an invisible blow. His face contorted for an instant, but he quickly disguised it with a growl of rage. 

"You bastard!" 

He raised his fist, but Warren was faster, spinning and immobilizing him again. Seconds later, two security guards grabbed Warren, pulling him back. Two others grabbed Daniel, forcibly separating them and taking them to opposite corners.

"Let me go! Let me go." Warren growled, pulling away with a sudden movement. He ran his hand over his face, wiping the blood from the cut. "I'm going to kill you." "I'm going to press charges against you, you piece of shit." Daniel spat the words, trying to free himself from the security guards' grip. His face was red with fury and humiliation. "You're going to jail again!"

The crack of the slap echoed through the room.

You grabbed the collar of Daniel's shirt, pulling him closer, your eyes fixed on his.

"If you tell the police, I'll tell your fiancée what you said when you abandoned our son."

The color drained from Daniel's face.

"You’re not that brave."

He tried to laugh, but his eyes wavered. You saw the exact moment he realized that, yes, you would have the courage.

"I doubt she knows that." Your voice was cold, cutting. "And I don't think you want to ruin the wedding before it even starts the dollhouse acting to hide the jerk you are."

Daniel tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"Fine." He huffed, pulling away from the security guards and massaging his arms. "Fine. Fuck, okay. I won’t call the cops."

"Fine." You pushed him away one last time before turning to Warren and taking his hand. "But no visiting Luke."

You leaned forward slightly, staring at Daniel with a look of pure ice.

"You don't exist to him."

Daniel opened his mouth to retort, but Warren, still breathing heavily, cut him off.

"Wow, that was hot" He grunted without thinking, his eyes sliding up and down you, appreciating the fire in your eyes.

"Not now, Warren." You grunted back, forcing a brave face, trying not to laugh at the gravity of the situation. "You're dead to me and Luke, Daniel."

You took a step back, lifting your chin.

"Act like it."

"But—"

"Whoa, dead men can't talk." Warren snapped his fingers, interrupting Daniel with a mock-casual tone.

"What?"

"Quiet."

"You're—"

"How can you talk with all that dirt on your face?"

"Bro!"

"Rest in peace." Warren made the sign of the cross before raising his middle finger at Daniel. "In hell."

The entire room was silent for a second, until a small group of youngsters burst into applause and muffled laughter. The distraught parents tried to silence them, but Warren spun on his heel, spreading even more chaos.

"Censorship!" he shouted, raising his arms theatrically. 

"Warren!" You laughed, pulling him by the arm as the first drops of rain fell outside.

Without even looking back, you focused on the only thing that really mattered at that moment.

Warren laughing.

Free.

Turning back to the party just to give the middle finger to anyone who dared to exist.

He got into the car, the smile still dancing on his lips, patiently waiting for you to settle in next to him before starting the engine.

The rain began to thicken.

But you didn't care.

Because, that night, you left there the same way you came in.

Together.

"Where to?"

Warren's voice came low, still charged with adrenaline, as he got rid of his damp suit and tossed it carelessly into the backseat. His hair stuck to his face, messed up by the rain and the fight, and he brushed it away with a quick movement of his hand.

"My house." You replied, trying to fix your hair in the car mirror. “As soon as possible.” 

Without taking his eyes off the road, Warren felt around in the backseat, grabbing a random rag and throwing it to you. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re very welcome.” His playful tone made you smile. 

Without warning, he slammed his foot on the accelerator, making the tires screech against the wet asphalt. The horn honked loudly as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Screw all of you!” 

“That’s it! Screw you!” You laughed, leaning your face out the window, feeling the cold wind and light rain against your skin before shrinking back into the car. Your heart was still beating fast. Warren laughed too, but this time with a certain nervousness, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “What did we do?” 

“I’m so fucking screwed.” He let out a loud sigh. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

“You won’t.” You patted his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Trust me.”

He glanced quickly at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“Daniel doesn’t even have the courage to admit to his own fiancée that he has a son.”

“Coward.” Warren snorted.

The car was silent for a moment, only the sound of the engine and the rain filling the space. Then, a smile played on his lips.

“And what was that, girl?” He ran his tongue over the corner of his mouth, still feeling the metallic taste of his own blood. “Wow. I got goosebumps all over.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I’m telling you, you have the stereotype of a criminal.”

You leaned slightly towards him, lowering your voice.

“Yeah?” Your hand slid along the back of his seat, your fingers lightly brushing against the warm nape of his neck. “What are you going to do with that?”

Warren’s laughter died there.

He turned his head to you, his eyes dark in the dim light of the dashboard. He bit his lip, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Your innocent, shy eyes tried to hide it, but he knew. He knew exactly what was going through your mind. 

“This car is going to stop.” His voice came in a thick whisper. “And now.” 

Warren turned the steering wheel with a firm movement, throwing the car onto the shoulder of the highway. 

“Hurry, darling?” You laughed, feeling your own body heat up as he pulled the handbrake and parked in a darker area, away from the traffic. 

Warren leaned towards you, his hands sliding to unbuckle your seatbelt. His eyes burned with barely contained desire. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back.” The last thing you felt before you gave in completely was the heat of his hands pulling you into an urgent, hungry kiss.

You purred and took off your seatbelt, forcing your body onto Warren’s lap. He pulled the lever back so you could fit without moving the steering wheel, steadying his hands on your body when the seat reached its position. Straddling your legs on either side of Warren’s waist, you found yourself free to continue the kiss, holding his face in your hands.

Warren palmed your thighs, pulling your dress up so he could touch them directly, marking the spot with his firm fingers. He lifted the fabric once more so he could touch your bum, pulling the elastic of your panties so you could feel the softness of the flesh. You moved forward, brushing against the tent that formed in Warren’s dress trousers, panting into the kiss. You deepened, hungry for him: biting, sucking, licking. Whatever you were entitled to and Warren could give you, you took.

“Oh, shit.” You groaned, feeling the metallic taste in your mouth, remembering Warren’s cut. “I’m hurting you, aren’t I?”

“Fuck that bruise.” He grumbled, scraping his nails across your skin, pulling you closer. “You’re hotter than that.”

“You look so attractive with that bruise.” You whispered, kissing his mouth more calmly.

“Hmmmm, I think I’m gonna start hurting myself more.” He chuckled softly into your face, capturing your lower lip in a hickey. He noticed the small red stain of his blood on your lip, touching it with his thumb. “You look delicious with blood on your mouth. I’d love to visit you in jail if you killed Daniel.”

“Would you? And what would you do to me there?” You flirted, moving closer, shaking your hips back and forth. Warren gasped, throwing his head back, trying to maintain control with his hands on your hips.

“I was going to exercise my right to come and go, come and go, come and go.” He murmured hoarsely, pulling you closer to brush your lips against his. “Damn, I almost came imagining you killing the guy.” He laughed, breaking the kiss.

“You’re horrible, Warren. Look at that.” You laughed in disbelief, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“That’s not even the worst part.”

He began, his hands going up your back to slide the zipper halfway down, grabbing the straps of your dress to slide them down your arms, catching a glimpse of your breasts that he had fantasized about so many nights.

“The first thing that caught my attention about you after your smile was your hips.”

“Really?” You gasped, feeling his hand lightly support the weight of your breasts in his palms. “Why?”

“Because women look really hot with that littl fat on their hips after having a baby.” He finished with a straight face, making you laugh out loud. “So, I kind of already suspected that the kid was your son because of your ass.”

“You’re a terrible person, Warren.” You spoke about his lips, stealing a slow and lingering kiss, massaging his lower lip with your tongue.

He licked his lips and went to your ear, biting the lobe before whispering. “And you love it.”

“You’re a bad influence on me.” You reciprocated in the same tone, closing your eyes to feel him distribute slow kisses on your neck, giving a long, slow lick to your throat.

“And I’m gonna influence you to fuck with me in this car right now.”

Soon his strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you closer. Strong, intense, passionate. That was Warren’s description of your body, of kissing you, of biting you, of hearing you moan, of having you completely. And you had him in that old car, now, so special to you.

Rule #6: Haste is the enemy of perfectionYou had convinced Warren to stay a little longer at your house after all the chaos that had unfolded. The atmosphere was calm, soothing, like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

He closed the door softly behind him, watching quietly as you made your way to the kitchen. You carefully poured water into the vase to preserve the flowers. Your fingers grazed gently over the delicate petals before you placed the note next to them, careful not to lose it.

That’s when you felt it.

Warren’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his warmth melding with yours. He leaned in slowly, pressing soft kisses along your neck, trailing down toward the base of your throat. Your body relaxed under his touch, your eyes instinctively fluttering shut as your hands found his, gripping them gently over your own skin.

He smiled against your ear before placing a long, lingering kiss on your cheek, tightening his embrace as if trying to merge with you.

You turned in his arms, but didn’t pull away, your bodies still pressed close.

Your fingers traveled up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his damp shirt. Slowly, they made their way up to his neck, then to his face. Your thumb traced a gentle path along his cheek, and for a brief moment, Warren closed his eyes as if savoring the sensation.

When he opened them again, the dimples were visible. His unruly curls fell over his face, even more endearing under the soft yellow kitchen light.

“I prefer you like this,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft texture. “Your hair is beautiful.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side, almost reflexively, as if your touch was pulling him in.

“I thought about cutting it,” he murmured, his voice quiet, hesitant. “I thought maybe I should look more like those neat, ‘normal’ guys... I don’t want people to look at us funny when we walk down the street together.”

You frowned.

“Don’t ever do that.”

Your tone came out firmer than you’d expected, and Warren’s gaze locked onto yours, searching your face. His expression softened, but his words were still filled with quiet resolve.

“Don’t change just to fit what others want, Warren. I like you just the way you are.”

He blinked, as if needing a second to process your words.

“You like me?”

The question came out in a disbelieving tone, almost startled.

You paused.

Only then did he realize the words that had slipped out, unfiltered, as if they were second nature to you. A warmth crept up his face, and his gaze faltered, as if he had just ruined the moment.

But Warren didn’t let it slip away.

His hands moved to your face, holding you with a gentle but firm grip, forcing you to look at him.

“I like you,” he said again, this time with more certainty. “I’m embarrassed to say things like this... I didn’t want you to open the note in front of me because I’m a shy idiot when it comes to stuff like this.”

He looked down, took a deep breath, and then met your eyes again.

Silence.

He was searching for the right words.

“It’s just that…” He swallowed hard. “You’re worth me losing my shyness. You’re worth changing.” His eyes studied every feature of your face. “Changing into a better man.”

There was something raw in his voice. A genuine longing.

“Clothes, shoes, hair... I want to be worthy of you. Because I know I never will be.”

“No, Warren.”

Your voice was almost a whisper, but it carried weight. You swallowed hard.

“You are worthy.”

He blinked, surprised.

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You took a deep breath. “I know you’ve messed up in life. Who hasn’t? But that doesn’t define you.”

You hesitated for just a second, gathering your courage.

“You are Warren Lipka.”

A pause.

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

You closed your eyes for a moment before reopening them and saying the words that had been stuck in your throat:

“My Warren Lipka.”

His lips parted into a smile. He was trembling slightly, but it was the kind of tremor that came from someone trying to hold back something much larger, something he wasn’t ready to let out.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead. His eyes fluttered shut before he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I like you.”

The confession came out as a whisper, thick with an emotion he hadn’t yet dared to name. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze intense.

The words I love you caught in his throat, but they were there, hanging in the air between you. You could feel it.

It was in the way his fingers trailed lightly down the back of your neck, as if testing the waters of something deeper. It was in the way his eyes burned with a desire to be closer, to bridge the gap between your souls.

“I like you too.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own feelings pressing down on you.

The silence cracked in the space between you, thick with unspoken words.

The moment felt too beautiful to be rushed by grand gestures, by too-big words.

“I really like you, Warren. A lot.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if savoring every syllable before pulling you into a tight embrace. His chest pressed against yours, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath the skin. His scent mixed with yours, a delicate blend that felt like home. And even without saying another word, you both knew.

You were his.

And he was yours.

For the whole night, if it came to that.

You stroked his hair gently before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Want anything before we sleep?”

He mumbled something against your neck, his voice muffled. “Just you.”

“Then let’s get rid of these wet clothes before bed.” You smiled, tightening your arms around him. 

Warren sighed, reluctantly pulling away from you.

���Alright.”

He ran his hand through his hair, the curls even more charmingly messy now.

“You can shower first, I’ll wait for you in the room.” He stepped back to let you pass, then paused, glancing over his shoulder. “By the way... where’s your room?”

You pointed down the hallway to the door at the end. “That way.”

Warren followed the line of your finger, nodding his head.

“Thanks. I was worried I might end up in Luke’s room by mistake.”

You chuckled, already walking toward the bathroom. As you closed the door behind you, the last thing you heard was Warren’s muffled laughter echoing through the house, filling the air with warmth.

Your body craved water in the middle of the night, pulling you from sleep. The familiar warmth enveloped you, and you realized Warren was holding you close. His arm was firm around your waist, as though he wanted to keep you there forever. His chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm against your back, his messy hair brushing against your skin.

You tried to slip away slowly, careful not to wake him. His arm was heavy, but with gentle movements, you managed to free yourself from his embrace.

You got out of bed and walked quietly to the kitchen, your bare feet meeting the coolness of the floor. You poured the water into a glass and drank in silence. Flashes of last night danced through your mind—too vivid to be just a dream.

Warren had been in your room. He was still there, sleeping deeply, and that was proof everything had really happened.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stood there.

Then, you remembered the note.

The one he’d written with the bouquet.

The one he’d asked you to read only after he’d left.

But… he was asleep. It wouldn’t hurt to look.

You tiptoed over to the table, carefully grabbed the note, and unfolded it. Your eyes ran over the first line.

“Hi, I don’t know how to start this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. You pressed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound, but your eyes were already glued to the paper.

“I have a rulebook. It’s called The Great Guide for Jailbirds in Love. I wrote it in prison when I was thinking about getting out and how I wanted to build a family.

One of the rules is: haste is the enemy of perfection. That’s why it took me so long to tell you I love you from the first time I saw you.

But you know I’m all messed up and love breaking rules, right? You didn’t need that much time to see that.

Well… that’s it. I love you, princess. A lot.

P.S.: Sorry if I start a fight and then tell you I like you. I get really scared when it comes to love.

I love you forever.

—Warren Sillyka.

(Also, I love the nickname Luke gave me. Congrats on raising such a cool kid. You’re an amazing mom. I want to be his dad, if you’ll let me. But maybe that’s just an excuse to wake up by your side every day. Now I’m talking too much. xo.)”

Your heart tightened.

You read the note once, twice, over and over again.

The “I love you” was there, unafraid. No hesitation.

You felt a smile stretch across your face before you even realized it, and with the note pressed to your chest like it was the most precious treasure in the world, you returned to the bedroom.

Back to Warren.

Back to the arms that, even in sleep, seemed to know exactly where you belonged.

Rule #7: Forgiveness Is Not Forgetting

The week flowed with the softness and intensity of a fast-moving river, its days drifting by in a harmony that felt almost like a dream. What once seemed trivial and mundane became extraordinary. Warren and you found yourselves closer than either of you had expected, a bond deepening without words, but through subtle gestures and glances that spoke volumes. You would purposely brush against each other, exchanging discreet smiles, your hands almost imperceptibly grazing as he, with a natural ease that felt rehearsed, would wrap his arm around your waist, as if by instinct—catching you before you could fall, though perhaps trying to keep you from losing yourself in something far greater.

The most intimate moments began to intensify. During lunch breaks, conversations flowed easily, often veering down paths that felt deeper than any trivial subject. And when no one was watching, the kisses in the storage room tasted of secrets and freedom.

It was a Friday afternoon when everything seemed even more vibrant, almost unreal. Luke, with that pink bubblegum sticking to his lips, was animatedly chatting with Warren, who leaned casually against the counter. Standing tall, he looked like a protective wall, listening intently to every word from the boy, even if their conversation was lighthearted and playful.

"Caleb the Giant knocked over my headphones, and you know what happened?" Luke said, his little legs swinging restlessly in the high chair, more excited than anyone else in the room.

"Oh, it was nothing, just a master move, huh?" Warren grinned, his eyes sparkling as he raised his hand for a high-five. Their laughter echoed through the space, but suddenly, he seemed to remember his role as the "adult." He straightened up, more serious now, though still maintaining a gentle tone. "But don't fight, Luke. Fighting never solves anything, even if Caleb is a walking bore."

Luke pouted, crossing his arms with a scowl. "That's not fair, Warren. You were cooler. Now you're starting to sound like my mom."

"And your mom is right, you know?" Warren sighed, still trying to maintain his responsible demeanor, but it was clear he spoke from his own experience. "Fighting only creates more trouble. But if anyone challenges you, you have to stay polite. Just say, 'No, thank you.'"

Luke wrinkled his nose, clearly skeptical of how effective that suggestion would be. "That doesn’t work with Caleb," he muttered, throwing his arms up in frustration as if the solution were just out of reach.

"He does that because, deep down, he’s jealous, Luke." Warren spoke in a more serious tone now, but it also carried a surprising understanding. "Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. People like Caleb do things like that because they don’t have what you have. He may have all the cool toys, but... what about the rest?"

"But he's rich, Warren! He has everything he wants!" Luke countered, a skeptical look in his eyes as if that was the explanation that should settle everything.

"It’s not just about what he has, Luke." Warren smiled wearily, leaning against the counter, his arm stretched out, his calm expression hiding a subtle bitterness. "Try forgiving him. That’ll throw him off. It’ll mess with his ego, be the ultimate power move. And you’ll have more control than you think."

"Forgive him?" Luke looked puzzled, his head tilted adorably as he mulled over the suggestion. "If I tell him I forgive him, it’ll be worse. He'll laugh at me again and spread it around that I’m a coward."

"That kid’s the real coward, Luke," Warren grumbled, almost without realizing he was dropping the "responsible adult" mask he was trying to maintain. "But look, if he keeps it up, you can play your final card: tell him you’ve got a bodyguard who's ready to stop all the bullying in the world."

Luke’s eyes lit up, immediately excited as if he’d found a new lever to pull. "And who’s this bodyguard?"

Warren, with a mischievous grin and an easygoing look in his eyes, extended his hand to the boy, exuding the confidence of someone who knew exactly the power a simple gesture could hold. "Warren Lipka, at your service, secret agent to Luke."

"Awesome!" Luke couldn’t contain his joy, raising his arms in an impromptu celebration as if he had already conquered the world.

"Warren, are you busy today?"

You stepped out of the office, a stack of papers clutched in your hands, your phone pressed against your neck, while your disheveled hair fell messily over your face. Your expression was tense, betraying the chaos of the day. You couldn’t help but move hurriedly, your eyes glued to the phone as if it were the only thing keeping you afloat in the storm.

"No, what’s up?" Warren asked, his brow furrowing in immediate concern. He approached you with quick, purposeful steps, his gaze locked on your tense face. He knew that when you looked like this, something urgent was happening.

"I need you to watch Luke." You replied, your voice tight and direct. Snatching the phone from your hands, you typed quickly, your mind racing at full speed. "I’ve got a parent-teacher meeting today, and his doctor just called me. She needs me to come in urgently. I’ll stop by Elizabeth’s to grab his gift while I’m at it."

"So, you’re going to be out the rest of the day?" Warren asked, his eyes never leaving you for a second, like he was trying to gauge what else might be coming.

"Pretty much." You exhaled sharply, frustration escaping through your teeth. Your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating, adding to the pressure already mounting inside you. "Damn, I have to go now. You can close early if you need to. If it gets tough, and if he wants to go out, be careful with the people around. If he starts getting too stressed, give him his headphones, okay?"

"Got it." Warren nodded, trying to process the flood of information while you already began to move, ready to leave.

"Thanks, Warren. Bye." You said, giving him a quick peck on the lips—a brief, yet meaningful gesture—before you hurried toward the door.

"Hey." He called, his hands automatically running through his messy hair. He straightened up and looked at you with a soft smile, his demeanor calming. "Now, that’s better. Bye."

"Thanks. I owe you one." You shouted over your shoulder, already heading out the door, your footsteps echoing quickly down the corridor. On the way, you dropped your phone, muttering a curse under your breath as you bent down to pick it up.

At least Luke hadn’t heard the mutterings under your breath, and without wasting any more time, you jumped into the car and sped off toward your appointments.

“It’s… four-thirty…” Warren started, adjusting the watch on his wrist before casting an amused glance at Luke, who was practically bouncing out of his chair. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his calm tone contrasting with the boy’s energetic excitement. "How about we finish our work quickly and then hit the mall?"

“Yay!” Luke shouted, his little eyes sparkling with excitement as he sprang out of his seat. He grabbed Warren’s hand, eager to rush down the hallway. "Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!"

“Why the rush, little man?” Warren laughed softly, matching Luke's quick pace until they reached the middle of the aisle, between shelves of cookies and snacks. He placed his hands on his hips, relaxed yet alert, like he was in perfect sync with the boy. "Let’s get the work done properly first, before anything else."

“It’s because there’s a giant octopus at the mall!” Luke exclaimed, releasing Warren’s hand and already hopping around in impatient excitement, eyes glued to him, waiting for him to start opening boxes.

“An octopus, huh?” Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face as he sliced open the box with a pocketknife, careful not to nick Luke’s small hands. He tucked the knife into his pocket efficiently and, with the other hand, began organizing products onto the higher shelves.

“It’s not a real octopus, Warren. I’m a kid, not stupid.” Luke teased, laughing as he grabbed a pack of chocolate cookies. He placed it within his reach, his eyes lighting up with the idea. "It’s like a ferris wheel for kids. And I love octopuses! My favorite is theGrimpoteuthis, or dumbo octopus if you find it hard to say. "

“What do you like so much about octopuses?” Warren asked, genuinely curious, continuing the tedious task. He leaned slightly forward to reach the top shelves, but his eyes never left Luke, interested in what he might say next.

“I really love octopuses.” Luke answered, his enthusiasm contagious, pausing to share his thoughts while still working. "Octopuses have 8 tentacles, and it’s almost the same distance I have from my mom. We have 7 years and 7 months between us."

“Wow…” Warren said, impressed but still keeping his playful tone. "But hey, let’s focus on the work, little guy. We can’t waste time on this right now, or the squid will be gone." He winked, teasing lightly, but with a smile on his face.

“It’s not a squid, it’s an octopus.” Luke rolled his eyes, chuckling as he returned to his task. He seemed to find a nice balance between being serious and playful. "Wanna hear more octopus facts?"

“Sure. Hit me with it.” Warren chuckled softly, his eyes bright with genuine interest in what Luke might say next. He admired the boy—his mini-me, but with his own spark. He wondered silently how you had managed to raise someone so wonderful, someone who, despite everything, remained so pure and curious.

“Okay, here it is. Did you know octopuses have three hearts?” Luke asked, his voice full of anticipation, his eyes locked on Warren’s face as he quickened his work pace, grabbing packages with the efficiency of someone used to the job.

“Three hearts? That’s a lot.” Warren mused, tapping his chin casually, though his eyes remained focused on the task at hand. He picked up the heavier packages with precision, his posture relaxed but attentive, and his curiosity piqued by the conversation.

“Yeah. And did you know they have blue blood?”

“No way, you’re lying.” Warren teased, laughing softly when he saw Luke’s mock angry expression. He could tell the boy was eager to show off his knowledge. "I’m kidding. Why is it blue?"

“They have hemocyanin. I don’t know what that means, but my mom said that cyan means blue.” Luke explained with a thoughtful expression, and Warren nodded along, showing he was listening carefully.

“Did you know they’re super smart?”

“Oh, I know. I saw this crazy video of them escaping from aquariums.” Warren perked up, his voice rising a little with excitement, but he quickly caught himself. He didn’t want to sound like he was just telling any random story. The truth was, he’d watched those videos trying to learn escape strategies—something he never thought he’d need in real life. "But I get what you're saying. Octopuses are smart."

"Yeah, some even solve puzzles!" Luke shared, rubbing his hands together and shaking off the dust that clung to his fingers. He beamed with pride, happy to be teaching Warren something new. "I’m done."

“Me too, just one little thing...” Warren squinted, adjusting the price on a package of cookies that had been mis-labeled. He seemed more focused on the task now, but his eyes were still on Luke, keeping watch. "There. All done. Let’s go."

After getting into the car, Warren began to feel something new, something different from anything he’d experienced before. He glanced in the rearview mirror, checking that Luke was safe in the back seat, and a sense of belonging and purpose filled him. He found himself in a role he’d never imagined taking: someone who truly cared for another person, simply and genuinely. As he drove, he guided Luke, asking him not to stick his head too far out the window, helping with the small things the boy couldn’t quite understand or process.

For a moment, Warren felt as though he was healing something inside himself, something that had been lost along the way. He saw Luke as a kind of mission, a purpose. Taking care of him was something Warren never expected, but now it felt like something he would always do, a silent bond that couldn’t be broken, no matter what was happening around them. He knew Luke wasn’t his biological son, but there was something more, something neither he nor you dared to admit. The truth was simple, yet complex: family wasn’t just made of blood.

“Stay there, I’ll open the door.” Warren gently indicated, walking around the car to open the door for Luke. “Can you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out by yourself?”

“I can.” Luke replied confidently, stretching his legs to jump out of the car, but before he made any move, he asked a curious question, his eyes fixed on Warren as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Hey, why do you open the door for mom if she can get out by herself when she’s with me?”

“It’s chivalry, Luke. It’s a nice gesture that shows how much I care about her.” Warren answered with a sincere smile, carefully closing the car door to avoid hitting any of Luke’s limbs, even though the little boy was already far from the door. His posture was relaxed, but he was still focused on what he was doing.

“Hmm, so all the men who do that really like the women they’re with?”

“Most of them just don’t like seeing the car scratched or the door broken because they don’t trust the girls.” Warren replied with a playful tone, but also curious about Luke’s question. He took the boy’s hand as Luke extended it, beginning to walk side by side through the shopping mall.

“Do you think that about mom sometimes?” Luke looked up at him with curious eyes, as though the answer had a much deeper meaning than he realized.

“Only sometimes, when she’s wearing those huge heels or when she’s mad about something.” Warren responded with grace, trying to lighten the mood while holding Luke’s small hand. “Is she always that scary when she’s mad?”

“Very much. Uncle Daniel says she’s always been like that. One day he even wanted to call the police.” Luke revealed, squeezing Warren’s hand a little harder, as if sharing an important secret, a revelation. His tone grew more serious, as if he were sharing something he’d heard many times before.

Uncle Daniel? That echoed in Warren’s mind. He realized that Luke still didn’t know who his father was, and it caused a strange pang of discomfort inside him. But he forced himself to continue the conversation without letting that thought take over. What mattered at that moment was that Luke was right there beside him, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“Hey, why do you always wear headphones? Do you really like music that much?” Warren asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Luke’s father, as if the silence between them could ease the growing tension in his mind.

“My ears hurt if I listen to too much loud noise. My mom said I’ve been like this since I was little.” Luke revealed, and Warren felt his mind grow even more confused with this information. He was trying to make sense of it all but decided to leave the topic for now.

“You’re still little, Luke.”

“Boring.” Luke stuck out his tongue at him, but his smile quickly returned, and Warren couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re the strangest adult I’ve ever met, Warren.”

“And you’re the strangest kid I’ve ever met, Luke. We’re even.” Warren teased, beginning to swing their hands as they walked. He felt a connection with Luke, a strange sense that, despite everything he had gone through, maybe—just maybe—he could be a good example for this boy.

“Everyone says I should be normal and that I’m weird. I get sad about it. But it’s different with you.” Luke smiled, and those words made Warren’s heart tighten. He felt something so strong, as if he were seeing Luke’s true pain right there, but also his strength.

Luke was an incredible kid, too good for the world he’d been given. He didn’t deserve any of it, but Warren knew that, somehow, he could still be a part of Luke’s life, doing whatever he could to help him. He didn’t know the reason for Luke’s suffering, but something inside him told him that, if he could change anything, he would do everything possible to make sure Luke had a lighter future.

“You know, being normal is boring. Normal people are boring.” Warren began, cracking his neck slightly to ease the tension that was starting to build up. The conversation was taking a lighter tone, but he knew the impact his words could have. “One day, I told your mom I wanted to be normal, and she told me never to do that. She likes me the way I am. That’s really important.”

“She says that to me too, but she’s my mom.” Luke whined, swinging his hands together in a slightly exaggerated way, still with that tone of someone wanting to express all his frustration but not knowing how. It was as if the boy had some doubt about what it truly meant to be "normal" and how he fit into this world.

“But this time, I’m the one saying it.” Warren replied, now with a calm that almost sounded wise, as if the words were coming from a place of real experience and understanding. “Next time someone calls you weird, know that it’s a compliment.”

Luke seemed to absorb the information, and a shy smile appeared on his face, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Okay.” The boy’s expression, which had been heavy, was now more comfortable, lighter. Slowly, he was starting to understand that being who he was was fine, and he didn’t need to fit into molds imposed by others.

As they walked through the mall, Warren kept his thoughts focused and serious. He knew that, no matter how simple they seemed, people’s internal battles, even the smallest ones like Luke’s, were real. They were so different, yet so similar. Each had their own fears and sadness, and sometimes the pain seemed to come from such unexpected places. Luke was still so young, yet already felt loneliness, which made Warren’s heart tighten. He knew he couldn’t let that continue. He didn’t want Luke to feel how he sometimes did—lost and alone.

“Is that the octopus over there?” Warren asked, pointing to the children’s ride with a giant purple, colorful octopus, where a few kids were having fun, looping around and shouting with joy. He tried to steer the conversation toward something lighter, something they could both enjoy together.

“Yeah. I have the little card from when I came with my mom.” Luke said, all excited, grabbing his little backpack and opening it quickly to pull out his Aquamen card, which made Warren smile. The boy had a habit of holding on to memories, and it made Warren feel a pang of tenderness. “Here it is!” He showed the card with a victorious expression.

“Good taste, kid.” Warren teased, admiring the boy’s dedication to keeping that card with so much care. He walked over to the reception, validated the card, and added credits, always keeping Luke’s hand between his, as if not wanting the boy to get lost in the sea of people. It was their first outing, and in a way, Warren felt like a real father, trying to protect and make everything perfect for Luke. The attendant handed the card back, and Warren smiled as he returned it to the boy. “All set, let’s go.”

“Aaaayyy!!” Luke exclaimed, his hands clapping joyfully as he ran toward the line, jumping and skipping with contagious energy. “Come on, Warren!” He looked back over his shoulder, with that big, radiant smile, waiting for Warren to follow him.

“I’m coming.” Warren laughed, running to catch up with the boy. He already knew how important it was for Luke to have someone there, someone to trust. As he reached the ride, he placed a careful hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Alright, I’m here. You’re up next. Have fun. I’ll be right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Luke nodded, eagerly climbing into the seat of the ride. He looked a little nervous, but at the same time, his smile showed he was ready to face whatever came next. The attendant adjusted the safety belt, and Luke stayed there, firm, eager for the fun that was about to begin.

As the ride started to ascend, Warren watched Luke’s face carefully. He saw the boy’s smile expand, as if the whole world was too small to contain the happiness he was feeling at that moment. It was a genuine smile, the kind that only appears when someone is truly enjoying themselves. Luke’s expression was pure wonder, and Warren felt a deep sense of satisfaction, as if his mission was being fulfilled.

He stayed there, waiting, watching, feeling time pass in a more peaceful way. The octopus made a full rotation, and Luke waved from the top, his hands flailing, while his face lit up with contagious joy. Warren smiled back, a silent laugh escaping his lips, and moved a bit away, looking for a nearby bench to sit and wait. He bought a bag of popcorn, trying to distract himself a bit as time passed.

But inside, he was calm. The feeling of being there, part of this moment in Luke's life, was more than he had expected. It was as if, somehow, he had found a piece of himself in that boy. Something he hadn’t realized was missing.

Warren walked over to a distant bench, where exhausted parents occupied the seats, their faces revealing the weight of a long day, toys in hand, and tired gazes that said more than words ever could. But while he tried to distract himself by observing the scene around him, something caught his attention. Daniel was there. He appeared at the amusement station, his face weary, eyes slightly misty from exhaustion, still sporting a faint bruise that seemed to silently tell a story. Their eyes met. Warren felt a pang of guilt. That man still represented a part of an unresolved past, but he didn’t want to deal with that now. He waved briefly, averting his eyes from Daniel and focusing again on Luke, as if the problem wasn’t standing right in front of him. But, contrary to his plans, Daniel approached, walking with a downcast look, like a defeated lamb, carrying an invisible pain.

He stayed there, waiting, watching, feeling time pass in a more peaceful way. The octopus made a full rotation, and Luke waved from the top, his hands flailing, while his face lit up with contagious joy. Warren smiled back, a silent laugh escaping his lips, and moved a bit away, looking for a nearby bench to sit and wait. He bought a bag of popcorn, trying to distract himself a bit as time passed.

But inside, he was calm. The feeling of being there, part of this moment in Luke's life, was more than he had expected. It was as if, somehow, he had found a piece of himself in that boy. Something he hadn’t realized was missing.

Warren walked over to a distant bench, where exhausted parents occupied the seats, their faces revealing the weight of a long day, toys in hand, and tired gazes that said more than words ever could. But while he tried to distract himself by observing the scene around him, something caught his attention. Daniel was there. He appeared at the amusement station, his face weary, eyes slightly misty from exhaustion, still sporting a faint bruise that seemed to silently tell a story. Their eyes met. Warren felt a pang of guilt. That man still represented a part of an unresolved past, but he didn’t want to deal with that now. He waved briefly, averting his eyes from Daniel and focusing again on Luke, as if the problem wasn’t standing right in front of him. But, contrary to his plans, Daniel approached, walking with a downcast look, like a defeated lamb, carrying an invisible pain.

“Can I sit here?” Daniel's voice was low, almost as if he feared the answer, as if even the simple act of asking for permission was a burden for him.

“It’s a free country.” Warren replied, with a neutral tone, polite but carrying the coldness of someone wanting to maintain distance. He shifted slightly to the side, making no real effort to hide his internal irritation.

Daniel sat beside Warren in silence, his hands crossed almost defensively. His posture was slumped, eyes heavy with deep dark circles, as if he carried not just physical tiredness but an emotional weight that he couldn’t let go. He sniffed once, the sound almost lost in the tension between them.

“Did you come here to get hit again?” Warren asked bluntly, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. The question was direct, cutting, as if he wanted to wound that man a little more with his indifference.

“No… Actually, I was passing by and remembered this place.” Daniel said, looking around, his eyes lost in something distant, as if the memories of those times suddenly overtook him. “I came here with her when Luke was a baby.”

Warren didn’t answer. He only nodded, a small gesture, no words. He didn’t have much to say, nothing that would really matter in that moment.

“Honey broke up with me.” Daniel sighed heavily, as if the weight had been lifted from his shoulders, an unasked-for confession. “The same day, in front of everyone.”

Warren responded automatically, with visible boredom in his voice. “Sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t interested in sympathizing with Daniel anymore. The sad version of the blond man was starting to irritate him.

“I paid so much for that party. I did everything she asked. She drained every penny I had saved in my savings account.” Daniel continued, completely ignoring Warren’s grimace, unloading another piece of his pain. “She never had to ask me for anything, even when I insisted.”

“She?” Warren repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He knew exactly who he was talking about, no need to mention her name. He had heard it all before, and the frustration was beginning to build inside him.

“I was so jealous when I saw you two together for the first time.” Daniel confessed, his body sinking into the bench as if gravity itself was pulling him down, too weak to fight the weight of his own words. “We hadn’t spoken in years. I found out she never dated anyone after we broke up. Then, when I saw you together, with Luke smiling like he never did with me, my brain short-circuited.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Warren scoffed, rolling his eyes with an impatient tone. “Your big idea was to throw a wedding invitation at her?” He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The irritation was visible, and the words came with a subtle venom. He didn’t want to know about Daniel’s feelings, or his old frustrations. He wanted to focus on the present, and Daniel didn’t belong in that picture.

“I went crazy, don’t blame me.” Daniel said, his expression twisting with discomfort, fingers messing with his once-blond hair, which now looked dull and lifeless. “Deep down, I always knew I liked her, and I was looking for someone shallow to replace her. Someone who didn’t know anything about me, and I could pretend to be someone else to escape the past.”

“Then why did you leave her?” Warren cut through Daniel’s words sharply, almost like a knife. His voice was threatening, and Daniel instinctively clicked his tongue, letting out a frustrated huff. He knew that question didn’t have an easy answer, but Warren wanted to hear it from Daniel. Why all this mess?

“I never abandoned her.” Daniel grumbled, running his hand over his head, as if trying to push away the painful memories that still haunted him. “I just didn’t know how to take care of Luke. That’s all. I didn’t… know how to deal with him. It was getting on my nerves. Consuming me. I couldn’t concentrate on college and my parents are rigid about it. Every time I had to take him to the doctor or something.” 

Warren felt anger bubbling up inside him. “And what’s so bad about that kid that you’d do something like that?” The question came out almost as a shout, his patience already at its limit. He closed the popcorn bag tightly, his fist clenched, trying to control the fury that was about to explode.

“He’s not normal. You must know that. You don’t need to be an expert to see it.” Daniel pointed at Luke, who was still playing away, before turning back to Warren, as if trying to justify himself. “When he was born, he cried all the fucking time. After a while, he started to be quiet like a mouse. He wouldn’t express anything, wouldn’t talk. We took him to the doctor and they said they didn’t know what was wrong.” 

Warren's stiffness eased a bit. He leaned back in his seat, listening to the story, trying to keep control and process what Daniel was saying.

“I always liked parties and all. Whenever there was one at home, Luke wouldn't stop crying for a second.” Daniel continued, rubbing his tired eyes, a shadow of regret beginning to appear in his voice. “He didn't like being picked up, he bit people, kicked them. He was violent. He was a... freak.”

Warren bit back the curse that was about to come out, his fists clenched, his body tense as he tried to listen without losing his train of thought. “Freak.” The word felt like a punch to the stomach. He wanted to scream, but he forced himself to stay silent.

“I left them alone when he was about 9 months old. I couldn't stand living with it anymore. I thought: it was an accident, so why should i care?” Daniel's voice broke, and his lips trembled, as if confessing was torture. “Today I regret that.”

“Good for you, you should suffer more.” Warren spat, his voice cold as ice, uncrumpling the popcorn bag and grabbing another handful, his stomach churning. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Daniel, not after everything he’d done.

“So I heard from a phone call when he was three and a half.” Daniel trailed off, sobbing, his breathing heavy as he ran a hand over his chest. “Claire. My sister… Told me Luke was autistic.”

At that moment, Daniel broke down. He began to cry, his hands on his head, his shoulders shaking with each sob. Warren’s eyes widened, a little disconcerted. He looked around, desperately searching for something to distract himself, but here they were, in the center of everything, in a public scene he didn’t know how to handle.

At first, he hesitated, but something forced him to reach out. He placed his hand on Daniel’s back, a clumsy attempt to calm the man, trying to at least appear decent in the face of his pain. 

“She… raised money and went to these expensive doctors by herself and found out about this.” Daniel continued, his words coming out in a disjointed way as he wiped his face with his shirt. “She didn’t tell me about this. She found out from my sister. I tried to help, but she wouldn’t. She said I was fucking dead to her. I’ve never seen them since that day. Luke doesn’t even know who I am.” 

Warren felt a tightness in his chest, but his anger didn’t go away. He couldn’t let this go.

“Man, you were the biggest jerk ever.” The words came out harsh, but necessary. He caught Daniel’s attention with a simple but cutting sentence. 

“What?”

“You were an idiot. The worst.” Warren continued, shaking his head in disapproval. “I know she forgave you, I do too. I can’t even imagine what the first few years must have been like…” 

“Then why does she treat me like this if she forgives me?” Daniel interrupted, his voice desperate, his pain showing, but also his confusion and wounded pride. 

“Forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting,” Warren said, his voice firm, almost emotionless, as he removed his hands from Daniel’s back, wiping them on his pants. “And she’ll never forget this, Daniel. It’s her son.”

“I know.” Daniel sniffed, running a hand over his face, and a hint of remorse showed in his eyes, but it seemed too late. “I know…”

“Uncle Dan?” Luke asked curiously, his voice soft. Warren didn’t even realize when the boy had gotten off the ride. He was so immersed in his own thoughts that everything around him seemed distant.

“Hey, baby octopus.” Daniel answered in a forced voice, trying to sound cheerful, but the smile he tried to show didn’t convince anyone.

“Are you okay?” Luke frowned, approaching him, his big, sincere eyes full of concern.

“Yes, I am, Luke. Thanks for asking.” Daniel smiled back, but the expression was an effort, his body tired and his mind restless. He forced himself to get up from the bench, trying to hide the weight of the situation. “It’s time for me to go.”

“You’re leaving?” Luke tilted his head to the side, visibly disconcerted. He looked at Daniel, who just nodded silently, as if that were explanation enough.

“I have to take care of some things.” Daniel lied, forcing his throat not to tighten. He didn't want the boy to see the pain in his eyes. Not now.

“Take care, okay?” Warren was sincere. Even though he hated him, he was still as complicated a person as he was.

“Thanks. Bye, Luke.” Daniel finally said, waving quickly before turning his back and walking towards the exit, his posture hunched, as if he carried more than just regret. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, disappearing into the crowds of the park.

Luke looked at the place where Daniel had gone, confused, as if he was trying to understand what had happened, but couldn't. He then turned to Warren.

“What happened to Uncle Dan?” Luke asked, his voice soft and full of uncertainty.

“Adults complicating simple things.” Warren replied, trying to make the moment seem light. He shook the empty popcorn bag, trying to mask the feeling of emptiness that still accompanied him. “Want some?” He offered the bag to Luke, but he knew the little boy wasn't interested.

“I want a burger.” Luke replied with a mischievous and defiant smile, taking Warren's hand again, as if it were something natural, as if they were together in any situation, without the complications of adult life.

“You'll owe me that trip when you're an adult. I'm getting my pockets empty.” Warren smiled, feeling a little lightness return to his heart. He threw the bag of popcorn in the trash with a determined gesture. “But I also want to eat something with more substance. Will you have some soda?”

“My mom won't let me.” Luke pouted as he started walking, his hand still firmly in Warren's. “She says I'll grow up with bad bones, she only gives me juice. She makes beetroot, orange and carrot juice for breakfast.”

“Typical of your mother. I hate beets.” Warren rolled his eyes, letting out a light, more relaxed laugh. He always found it funny how some mothers could be so strict about certain foods.

“I hate it too. It's so disgusting.” Luke whispered, almost as if he was confessing a deep secret, something that no one should ever know. 

Their laughter was spontaneous, a moment of complicity that made the day a little brighter. Despite all the heavy revelations that were still engraved in his heart, Warren knew that what mattered at that moment was to make Luke smile. He wanted, for a brief moment, to banish the ghosts of the past and give the boy something simple: happiness. 

“I bet you’ve never had Pepsi with lime.” Warren said, raising an eyebrow, trying to spice up the conversation with something fun. He started walking towards the fast food joint, determined to do what every father would do: spoil good habits with a pinch of fun, lots of sugar and fries to go with it. It was a small diversion, but he knew that these small gestures could mean the world to Luke.

[pigfartsviatardis]

One of our greatest failings and stumbling blocks in the left wing, imo, is this refusal to allow grace or forgiveness or redemption to those who make shitty choices. This need to paint anyone who engages with bigotry or even simple ignorance as the enemy, as irredeemable, even when they’re trying to learn or do better.

The sad truth is we all make shitty choices, and we are all fallible, and we all let our need for validation and belonging take precedence over our moral compass sometimes. All of us.

I’m not saying that anyone is obliged to forgive and forget in every instance, or any instance. But the vicious hatred towards maga believers doesn’t help anyone even when they’re on their bullshit. When these people are actively seeking to turn away from what is essentially a cult, continuing to spit on them for their past choices and past ideology, to mock them and reject them and punish them, is ONLY going to turn them right back around again.

If your response to that is ‘well they aren’t really sorry then’ or ‘that proves they haven’t really changed’, then take a good hard look at YOUR motivations. Do you want people to change? Do you want people to grow and learn? Do you want people to actually internalise that the maga cult is harmful and fascist and full of lies? Because that’s fucking hard to do at all, let alone without help and encouragement!

I get that people are hurt and scared and furious and the maga cult is the enemy. I get how it feels to hate these people when they so wilfully uphold such disgusting ideology. I get the vindictive instinct to say ‘I told you so’ and cheer when they suffer for their choices. I get it! They are in the wrong. But it truly feels like a lot of people on the left are clinging so hard to being morally right, they’re shutting down opportunities and space for change for the better. Change that we desperately need.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[olderthannetfic]

Man...heavy vent for your blog, but I often see so many fandom people who are "successful" in the typical academic way. Masters, med school, law school, phd, etc.

And that is great. I am happy for those people! I earnestly LOVE it when my friends, mutuals, following, etc get to do their dream job or dream degree. :)

But...that will likely never be me. I am an alcoholic dropout. Which is also fine. I'm working on myself. And tbh I've worked so hard just to stay the fuck alive that even just being here is an accomplishment. I left my cult I was raised into, I live alone (which is more so something I need than something I want, but still great I can do it). yes all I have going in my life is my GED, my IOP program, my dinky work from home admin assistant job, and the HRT i've always wanted and now no longer think I'll go to hell for getting (bc that is not a real thing). I am a survivor! I am badass! I have done great, all things considering!

But...that might be all I accomplish ever. Which is fine. But it's still hard, sometimes? Im sure most people have seen that post that is about, like, niche knowledge that fanfic authors have and apply to their works and whatnot? And that is...nothing for me. Nothing. I cannot apply any type of job or education or whatsoever to my fic because that never happened to me. This isn't me insulting myself, it is just facts.

I genuinely don't hate myself or anything, which in itself is great bc life trauma wants me to hate me! and i don't! I just...feel sorta worthless because I might never achieve more than what i have already achieved, which is barely nothing, and so many people seem to be successful and I am just not.

--

The successful ones tell you about it.

But also... given how much fic is either about extreme trauma with no actual plot or about people hanging out in a coffee shop, I am confident that you can apply plenty of life experience if you want to.

[lanternfeather]

thinking about modern au sevika x mean nonbinary barista reader…

• sevika gets a new job, one where she works from home a lot, which is great but she finds she can’t focus at all when actually trying to work in her home. so she goes to a cafe down the street that’s been there for years, but she’s never stepped inside.

• she’s one of the first customers of the morning, and reader is a miserable barista there, dark circles under their eyes, almost unable to smile. it’s early enough that you’re the only one there, the cashier hasn’t come for their shift yet so you’re on register and making coffee.

• you are very knowledgeable about coffee and espresso and just fed up every day with how stupid and annoying customers are. how they feel like they have to make jokes about everything. how they think it’s cute to come up in pairs to the register and fight over who’s paying. how they constantly misgender you. how they actually have no idea what they’re ordering and ask you for stupid shit that makes no sense. you love making coffee but you hate customers. the manager knows you have an off-putting attitude but you’ve been there for years, you’re reliable, and you’re good at making the coffee, so they can’t let you go.

• sevika is faced with a very hot yet off-putting barista and fumbles her coffee order: “can i get a coffee.” the look you give her could turn her to stone. “is that a regular drip coffee.” you ask, icily. “yeah, drip.” “and what size.” “uh….” she trails off, unfamiliar with what your cafe orders. her mind feels blank as she continues gazing at you. does she even remember what coffee is? she astounds herself with how clueless she sounds when she says “whatever works best for you.”

• you can’t resist the urge to roll your eyes. of course the first customer of the day acts like it’s her first day on earth. it’s a shame that she’s so hot. you just ring her up quickly and decide the size for her, not even bothering to ask her name or whether she’d like room for milk or sugar. she seems like the type to take her coffee black.

• sevika, embarrassed, accepts her coffee from you and goes to sit down at a table with her laptop. she feels giddy when your hands brush, but you quickly turn away to go hide behind the espresso machine, not making eye contact.

• she watches you throughout the day. how frustrated and miserable you seem. how it feels like you’re on the edge of snapping and telling off every single dumb customer. she knows she wasn’t much better, but at least she didn’t expect you to perform happiness and subservience for her. it made her blood boil when customers tried to joke with you or criticize your drinks or act like they knew more about coffee than you. she felt a lot of empathy toward you and swore that she would never be an annoying customer again.

• the next day, and the next, and all the following days, sevika’s the first customer of the day, and she gets her act together. now she knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t waffle around about it. she orders the same thing every day until you begin to prepare her coffee for her as soon as she walks in, she doesn’t even have to say anything.

• you start to appreciate her more. you appreciate that she is serious and to-the-point. sometimes customers act like they have to be funny or wry or self-deprecating about their caffeine addiction in order to “get a good grade in being a customer” and they expect you to go along with their dumb jokes. but sevika is clipped yet respectful and doesn’t bother you longer than necessary. you like that about her. you know she sits in the cafe all day to do her work. you start feeling a fondness toward her and maybe even looking forward to seeing her in the morning.

• slowly, so slowly, over months, you warm up to sevika. the day that you give her a sweet smile while handing her her coffee makes her heart leap out of her chest. she admires you deeply now- you don’t put up with anyone’s bullshit, you’re efficient and sharp, and extremely attractive to her. you feel yourself becoming attracted to her too. you think about her on the days you don’t have to work. you find yourself missing the sight of her stonily staring down at her laptop, diligently working. you feel a connection building.

• one day, during a slow afternoon, you decide to be brave. sevika’s still sitting at her table. you fix up another cup of her usual order and emerge from behind the counter. she looks shocked when you appear in front of her and set the coffee down.

• “i didn’t order another,” she says, puzzled, a small frown on her handsome face. you shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “i suspected you might appreciate another cup,” you say, trying to play it off like it’s nothing. she laughs slightly in disbelief, but accepts it. “thank you. i appreciate it a lot.” you smile, a little grimly, but she knows by now that that’s just how you are. “you’ve come a long way. i have to say you’re one of my favorite customers because of how easy you make it for me. you don’t make dumb jokes or small talk or complain at all. thank you for being actually normal about things,” you say, all in a rush. you’d rehearsed forever about this short monologue. you feel yourself blushing, and see that she is too.

• you know next to nothing about her, but you find that for the first time, you want to get to know a customer- only because it’s her. her presence comforts you by now.

[delulustateofmind]

hi hi hi it's me again!!

thank you so much for another unbelievably delicious portion of cult leader geto!! read it and had a question!!

wouldn't suguru be worried that if sex comes only as punishing method at first, his little lamb would assosiate it with something negative? how would he try to change such connections in her head? cause at first no matter how gentle/loving/slow he would try to be it would still be forced for her:(

i guess that in his mind it is like forcing kid to eat porridge, yk... (lmao). of course she doesn't want it, but she is just too silly to understand that she needs it. luckily for her, he knows! oh his god complex is shining as bright as the sun (if not brighter)

and if he still uses sex as punishment sometimes, does he just doing it roughly or does he adding more and more kinky/humiliating stuff? as i see it, it feels like those punishements could be meant to show her how bad things could possibly be and how much she should be grateful when he is being all gentle and loving.

oh i cant stop yapping when it comes to you lovely thank you so much for replying and listening to all of these tell me if it gets too much ahahah!! + if gojo owns a shrimp, nanami would own a hedgehog. grumpy, old hedgehog for whom kenny build the whole little house instead of regular cage. sorry. it doesn't leave my mind. btw hedgehog would love only nanamin (and hopefully his darling.)

❄️

Hi Pookie! It's always a pleasure to see you in my inbox! Thank you for indulging in my brain worms, though I fear the man writes himself at this point. Omg okay, I love this question because it taps right into his god complex and the way he rationalizes his actions. You’re so spot on - he sees it as something akin to training rather than punishment (in the last little blorbo I do think he just gave into lust at that point because what's hotter than your darling running away). In his mind, his little lamb is too naive to understand what’s good for her, so it’s his divine duty to guide her.

But the thing about Geto Suguru’s love is that it’s not just about control - it’s devotion. Obsession. Worship. Whatever you want to call it. You are his most precious thing, the heart of his world, the one pure soul in the middle of all the corruption and filth he has to deal with. He doesn’t just want you to belong to him - he wants you to love him, to need him just as much as he needs you. You are his soft spot, his greatest weakness, and that’s why he has to break you. Not because he hates you, not because he enjoys hurting you (he tells himself that, at least), but because he’s scared. Scared that if you're not shaped properly, you’ll slip through his fingers. That you’ll run. That you’ll force him to do some unsavory methods to keep you within his walls.

Because he’d rather destroy you than let you go.

The transition is slow because he wants you to believe that submission is natural- your true purpose. That you're the one standing in the way of your own peace. When you obey, he gives you the illusion of choice, affection, and “love.” He’s gentle and indulgent, praises you endlessly, and makes you feel like the most cherished being in his world (you are). You're his favorite, his special little lamb, as long as you behave. When you happen to resist? That’s when he corrects you. It’s never framed as cruelty - no, no, no. It’s your fault for making things harder on yourself.

Over time, he changes your outlook on reality. Rewriting what’s "normal." He makes you doubt your own instincts and forces you to question if you're actually suffering. Likes to remind you that there are people in the world who are starving, who don't get luxurious dinners hand-fed to them in the warmth of a person's lap. That they don't get to wear the finest of silks. Get to sleep under bundles of warm blankets. Honestly, Suguru thinks you're a little ungrateful.

However. when you finally reach your lowest point, when the exhaustion, fear, and helplessness finally sets in, that’s when he becomes soft. Loving. Almost unbearably tender. He holds you. He comforts you.

"See? This is what I wanted for you all along. Isn’t this better?"

With enough of these cycles, you start believing him, because who could love you more than he could?

When he uses sex for punishment...okay, so here’s the thing - I actually don’t think Geto has that high of a sex drive in general (he’s got two little girls in the house, come on, can’t be getting freaky). It’s also not about lust for him; it’s about control, about shaping his little lamb into what you’re supposed to be. He’s not doing this just to satisfy some primal urge; he’s doing it because he needs you to understand.

…Okay, and because he yearns for you. Desperately. He’d much rather have you come onto him - to feel you crave him, reach for him, surrender willingly. That’s what he truly wants. He doesn’t enjoy using sex as a punishment; it’s just a lesson, a reminder of how things could be if you just let yourself love him the way he loves you.

There are some levels of punishment (mentions of cervix fucking, dubcon/noncon, , shibari, toys, misuse of cursed orbs):

At first, it's just rougher, reminding you that this is what happens when you disobey. That he'll mark your skin with love bites, that his thrusts will be harsh and push against your cervix. Then, he adds elements of humiliation - pushing you into uncomfortable situations where you're completely powerless as he ties you with shibari ropes and allows himself free use of your body. Where you can't exactly ignore your body betraying you as he presses the vibrating wand to your clit on the highest setting just to remove it right when you're about to climax. Disobedient little lambs don't get to cum. He will do weeks of only anal, indulging himself into opening your tight hole for him, pressing his cursed orbs against the lubed rim (especially if you've been complaining about the plug) So he starts forcing comparisons: "Do you like this better? No? Then maybe you should think twice before defying me next time." As he pushes the orb deep inside, don't forget you will have to push it back out. Just to have your cries muffled with the pure white lacey panties he always makes you wear.

However, Suguru cherishes the sweeter moments with you. Like when you’re straddled on top of him, your wrists bound behind your back, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because you still have that adorable habit of trying to choke him. (He doesn’t mind too much. It’s cute, in its own way) Taking his time with you then, his big, calloused, warm hands firm on your waist as he moves slowly, too slow and teasing, just enough to drive you mad (seriously, he does this for hours). Drinking in the little whimpers, the frustrated huffs, the way your body starts trembling with lust as slick coats your thighs.

"If you want to cum, my love, you’ll have to work for it," he muses with that smug grin, "Move those pretty hips for me."

What he loves most is when you finally start to crave him. When the resistance fades, when the hunger in your eyes mirrors his own. When you lean in for his kisses, desperate, needing them as much as he needs you - and by then? He’s already untying the binds, letting his hands roam free, pulling you close to his chest as he drives his cock straight to the hilt.

"That’s it," he breathes against your lips, devotion laced in every syllable. "See how much better this is when you don’t fight me?"

RAHHHHH sorry for rambling so much… I just loved this question. I fear Suguru is just a little bit of a loser for his darling, but he has to bury it beneath all that manipulation and his desperate need for control. 😭 MWAH! Love you tons! 💕

[dad-friend]

I hate adding to post but there's one thing I wanna add; sometimes starting a new medication gives you what I like to call sea legs. You know how sailors get back on land and are like "what the fuck"? Sometimes there's a gap between the med working and your brain realizing it works. Obviously I can't speak for everybody, but in my experience if you're used to a something being difficult, you have to kinda muster up the courage and energy to do it and you might put it off, or you might flinch away from a vaccine or too-cold shower even though you're running 20 minutes late and need to get in now. You're expecting resistance before it happens.

When we get in that kind of habitual weariness, sometimes it can be hard to realize a medication is working. ADHD meds, for example, don't magically organize your life, but they make it possible for you to do so. You still have to build the new habits.

Anti-depressants can be similar; many have the "sun is shining, birds are chirping" effect, but a lot of meds take a few weeks to begin to work and then its still up to you to take care or yourself and distance yourself from things that may exacerbate your condition

At first it feels like when you try to lift a gallon of milk in the fridge that you thought was going to be heavy and find out that actually, somebody used most of it and you just ended up aggressively yanking the milk carton into the air, but eventually you build new habits!

Obviously if a medication straight up isn't working or is having negative side effects don't just keep taking it, but I find this kind of mental image to be a helpful way to explain how my meds work to others and set reasonable expectations for myself and others

Anyway, OP I'm genuinely very happy for you and so glad you were able to find what works for you. hope anybody reading this who needs that help can do the same

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[zeel-zzz]

Red Rose Surprise

[a rosekiller kid fic]

BARISTA BARTY | ROSEKILLER | WC: 2.7k

i'm not sure why no one's written a rosekiller kid fic, but i give you this. i will definitely expand on this because i just love this idea so fucking much.

"Stupid strawberry milk."

If Barty was allowed to say one thing publicly without the risk of being fired from his place of employment, he'd probably say fuck big companies who ruined coffee shops for regular ass people. 

Sure, the big coffee chains have been around for years and it’s not like he knew what ordering coffee was like before them, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t despise them.

At least they were taking away the really insufferable customers, or that's what his boss liked to say. The only reason she can say that is because she doesn’t have to deal with them. 

Barty’s known to have a shit attitude. This is especially known in the coffee shops that employed him so many years ago. He doesn't take shit from anyone, and who have been going long enough know that Barty doesn't fuck aroud. 

He’s pretty sure Rosmerta is using his bad attitude in some marketing scheme.

“Stop by The Three Brews and get uniquely insulted by our prickly barista as he makes you latte art.”

He has to give it to her if that is actually what she’s doing, it’s one hell of a marketing tactic.

Still, it doesn’t mean he enjoys dealing with the annoying customers, and sure, he does know how to make the complex orders, and yeah he technically can make them, but it's not like he wants to. There’s a menu for a reason. Barty was not going to make a triple shot latte with a fraction of every type of milk substitute they had in stock. 

I mean, he could use the syrup pumps when people wanted hyper specific orders, but there’s a reason why they were placed so far back. Barty wasn’t going to walk all the way back there when the next customer just wanted an espresso. Getting orders out quickly got him tips and tips were what paid for his lunch.

What really worsened them was Rosmerta's seasonal menu, because now if Barty said they ran out of something they could just point to the menu’s seasonal options. 

“If you’re out, why are you still offering it? The least you could do is take it off the menu."

Apologies Susan, he wasn't aware someone could simply wipe off the words from their laminated menu that was placed in front of the cash register.  

He also hated the menu because it meant he had to put even more effort when serving. It’s not like you could serve a ‘Heart Flutter’ with a frown. It ruins the atmosphere or whatever.

Sometimes he wishes he would’ve just taken Regulus’ money, at least then he wouldn’t be forced to work the morning before Valentine's Day listening to the same romantic pop songs as he wiped down the coffee machine for the umpteenth time. 

One more hour, he just had to hold off for one more hour.

The door chimed and Barty only rolled his eyes when he heard the soft clicking of metal rings rubbing against each other.

“If you're not gonna order, you can make your way out, Sirius. I'm not dealing with your shit today.”

Barty could feel the judgemental stare of a mother on the other side of the counter. If it wasn't for the fact that he was still on the clock he would've flipped her off already.

“You can't kick me out Crouch, Rosmerta loves me.”

“Rosmerta loves using your face to draw up business. Hurry up and get behind the counter before we get told off again.” Barty threw him an apron that Sirius was just barely able to catch.

So, the thing was Sirius didn't actually work here, and technically he wasn't allowed behind the counter, but it's not like Sirius needed the money and Rosmerta wasn't going to keep him from working for free. 

“Are you still pissed off that I'm ditching you to go out with my super tall, super smart, super hot boyfriend tomorrow.” 

Sirius pulled his hair back carelessly before tying it up. Only Sirius Black could present an effortless look with no actual effort.

“Do I need to remind you that I've already had the pleasure of enjoying your super tall, super smart, super hot boyfriend.”

Barty had in fact had a go with Sirius’ boyfriend some couple months back. They hadn't known each other at the time, and Barty was certain that if he hadn’t hooked up with Lupin that night, Sirius and Remus would have never even met. Sirius’ entire relationship existed because of Barty.

“Don't talk about Moony like he's a piece of meat.”

“Oh, so only you can objectify him?”

Sirius nodded as he took off his jacket to hang on a hook and tied his apron. “Boyfriend privileges, but you wouldn't know about that would you Crouch.”

He wouldn't actually, Barty Crouch Jr wasn't known for settling. Not a single one of his relationships lasted longer than three months, at least if you didn’t count Emmeline Vance, who Barty tends to go back to every couple months when she’s single.

Sirius didn't count Emmeline as a relationship.

Barty could only roll his eyes before he started on the next order, cappuccino, no foam. He wanted to kill someone.

And so it went for the next half an hour, Barty rotated from creatively insulting one of his regulars and resisting the urge to pour the frothing milk on some prick's head. 

“Fuck this, I'm taking a break, call me if you don't know what your doing.”

Sirius waved him off before he turned to the cash register with a bright smile, his loose curls falling to frame his face. Barty wasn’t even surprised when the woman began to stumble with her order, Sirius had that effect on everyone.

He was sitting across the counter when a little girl walked in all by herself.

Bright blonde hair held in two crooked pigtails. A set of plastic butterfly wings that were sliding off her shoulder, her face decorated with glitter and star stickers. He was pretty sure that the smudged paint around her eyes was supposed to resemble wings as well. It was the sparkling princess skirt and mismatched shoes with untied laces that really pulled the whole thing together.

She was already heading towards the display case, eyes focused on the pastries that had been delivered earlier that day by the local bakery.

Sirius leaned over the counter when he noticed who Barty was looking at. 

“Hi sweetie, you see something you like.”

The girl looked up at Sirius with a nod before she pointed at one of their last brownies. Barty bit the inside of his cheek, he was really hoping that someone wouldn't take it before his shift was over.

As if to sense his despair Sirius looked over at Barty in question.

Would Barty be generous for the first time in his life and sacrifice the last brownie to the little girl who had her face pressed against the glass, or would he be a selfish prick and break this little girl's dream?

Barty sighed before gesturing for Sirius to give it to her.

He hated kids. He hated seeing their round faces with their big eyes.

Oh, but the smile that broke out the moment Sirius handed it to her in a napkin was heart melting. Barty couldn't help but laugh at the way she began to jump around in joy. Her little wings flapping with each jump she made.

“Luna, there you are. What did I tell you about running off on me?”

The girl turned around proudly presenting the brownie she had just received, “Evie look, brownie!”

Barty hadn't even noticed when the guy walked in, too focused on making sure she didn't slip on her untied shoelaces.

He was tall, and that was saying something because Barty was tall. He might not have been Remus Lupin tall, but he was definitely tall. He also had blonde hair, nearly platinum. Barty was almost in awe of how good it looked on him. He didn't know many people who could pull off platinum.

Silver septum ring with plenty of other piercings on his ears. Each one carrying silver jewelry. Barty couldn't help but think that gold would've suited him better.

“I can see that angel, but I only have enough for one treat right now. You're going to have to choose if you want this or your red rose surprise.”

The girl, Luna, pouted, and Barty wanted to groan. Kids were his weakness.

Sirius looked over at Barty unsure of what to do. Barty only mouthed his response.

“The brownie's on the house.” Sirius gave the customer that charming smile of his as he rested his arms on the counter. This was the real reason Rosmerta kept him around. Always so charming that Sirius Black, no one could resist him. 

“My boss just loves fairies, and she told me that every fairy who visits is supposed to get one treat for free.” 

Luna beamed up at Sirius before turning around to the guy, Evie, and sticking her tongue out before turning back to Sirius.

“I want a red rose surprise.”

“I don't think we have those here.”

Evie let out an exaggerated sigh before he kneeled in front of her. “Imma have to work my magic little moon. Why don't you go pick a seat and enjoy your brownie while I get that red rose surprise.”

Fuck it all to hell, ‘little moon’. Kill him, kill him now. End his existence before he ends up falling in love with a complete and utter stranger.

There was something that needed to be known about Barty.

He found people who were good with kids attractive. And he didn't mean it in a ‘Oh, wow. That's so cute. You're sweet and protective.’ kind of way, but more like, ‘I don't care if it's biologically impossible. I want to have your kids so that I can see you do this for the rest of my life.’ kind of way.

Regulus says he's absolutely mental and this is a result of his daddy issues, while Sirius says that it's perfectly reasonable because it's exactly how he feels about his own boyfriend.

Seeing this super hot guy talk to this little girl like she was the only good thing in the world made his heart race a little. A strangely weird feeling because even though he's felt this way before, it's never gotten this intense.

His friends find the dichotomy between what he's like and what he finds attractive absolutely hilarious, because Barty liked pretty people. He liked sweet looking people who take control of a situation with a smile on their face. A big contrast to Barty who was covered in tattoos, used cheap black box dye, and had a shitty ass personality, or so he was told.

His last boyfriend would disagree, but Sirius refuses to listen to anything James Potter had to say in regards to Barty. Skewed perception was his reasoning. 

“Cute kid, is she your's?” Sirius stood back up and eyed Evie as he stood up, blue eyes following Luna as she sat down at one of the booths.

“My sister's, actually. I’m babysitting today.” 

“Oh, and what, no girlfriend to help you out.”

The guys smiled at Sirius and Barty wanted to roll his eyes. 

Although in a fully committed relationship, Sirius Black was incapable of not flirting with their customers. He's probably the reason why Barty has to deal with so many annoying customers. Charmed by Sirius and insulted by Barty, only at the Three Brews.

“No one at the moment, but Luna’s a good help in getting people interested. Someone's bound to find me worth sticking around for.” He smiled at Sirius and although Barty couldn't see just how lethal it was he could definitely see its effects by just how red Sirius was getting.

It wasn't by much, but no one's been able to get such a reaction from him since he's gotten with Lupin. It wasn't often when Sirius Black could be brought to blush, and if someone ever did manage it, it was a sure fire way to get Barty interested.

Sirius looked over at Barty and Barty took it as his cue to go save his friend from possibly ruining his newly established relationship.

The transition was quick and simple. Barty pulled Sirius back and told him to check on that order Rosmerta had placed for sandwiches for the incoming lunch rush. Sirius barely had time to wish him luck before he was pushed to the back where the phone was.

“Good morning, I'll be serving you since my coworker doesn't know how to keep from drooling when he sees a pretty face.”

And fuck did he have a pretty face. Barty was going to need more than luck to get through this.

“Well, I'm not complaining. One pretty face replaced by another, nothing to be disappointed about.”

Red alert, red alert! This is not a drill! Why the hell is this guy flirting with him?

“Um– what would you like to order? We have plenty of Valentine's Day specials if you're feeling festive, but we do have regular coffee if you aren't looking for anything fancy.”

Barty looked over at the little girl who was carelessly kicking her feet as she broke off a piece of the brownie. He was kinda regretting giving it to her now. He could really use some chocolate to ease the nerves that were eating at him. 

“Do your Valentine's specials have strawberries?”

No, no, don't do this to him. He really didn't want to make anything too difficult. He already had to make three of those today and tomorrow that all he would be doing.

“Some do.”

“Okay, then, do you mind just putting regular milk in a cup, adding some diced strawberries and whipped cream with strawberry syrup on top. It's my niece's birthday today and I always get her one of these, but the last place we went to ran out of strawberries.”

“So, the red rose surprise is just strawberry milk.”

He shrugged a little, “It's what my parents used to do for my sister and I on our birthday. I guess I'm just following the tradition.”

Oh, he was so fucking screwed.

“Yeah, I can make it work, Evie.”

He laughed and Barty could only stare at him as he covered his face in embarrassment. 

“It's Evan actually.”

“Barty.”

“Well, thank you Barty, you just saved my day and made her birthday ten times better. How much would it be?”

And Barty knew the moment he made eye contact, he was done for.

“It's on the house, a gift for the birthday girl, and you if– if you want something?”

“No, I'm good for now, but thanks.”

Evan smiled and Barty swallowed nervously.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Yeah, no problem. I'll have your drink ready to go in a moment.”

Evan nodded his head before he turned around and sat next to Luna who was now staring at him with wide eyes and head tilted to the side. As soon as Evan sat down she turned to him and pointed at Barty before gesturing at her cheeks. 

Evan laughed for a moment before looking over in Barty's direction. They made eye contact, Evan winked at him and Barty quickly turned around to get that drink ready.

Strawberry milk, strawberry milk, strawberry milk.

How the hell was he supposed to make strawberry milk?

“Hey Barty, are you okay? Your face is all red.” 

Barty jumped at Sirius' words

“Relax, it's just me.”

“You know how to make strawberry milk right? I mean the pretty kind that you see all over Instagram and shit.”

“Yeah, I used to make it for Reggie. Why?”

“Teach me.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to make your stupid strawberry milk.”

“I can just make you some.”

“No, you have to teach me so I can give it to that little girl and then when Evan sees how good I'm at making strawberry milk he'll have no other choice but to marry me so I can keep making strawberry milk.”

Sirius blinked at him before laughing. 

“Evan? Is he the reason why your face is all red like that?”

Barty wanted to strangle Sirius or drop to the floor and die, preferably both, but not necessarily in that order.

“Fine, I'll teach you how to make it, but first go wash your face. You're as red as a strawberry right now.”

Barty could only hang his head in embarrassment when he saw his reflection on the mirror. Bright red, strawberry red.

Stupid red rose surprise. 

Stupid strawberry milk 

Stupid Barty for falling for some guy named Evan.

tags: @the-person-that-did-that @saiichai

[dandysworldhcs]

Okokokok Boxten hcs!!!

His wind up is sensitive, and he hates it being turned. Unfortunately, a lotta kids are curious about what song he plays… There was a rule actually made to not wind him up :/

Everyone thinks he’s a scaredy-cat but I think he’s just super shy!!! He probably loves horror movies… but like, the “so bad it’s actually funny” kind

has perfect pitch :]

was one of the few toons that was made out of different materials other than felt! He was made from a wood marionette. The ichor did fix up the visible joints and stuff like that, but if you look closely on his mouth you can slightly see an indent similar to a puppets!!!

He’s an artist! He mostly draws plants and landscapes. He’s sometimes commissioned by Shelly to draw prehistoric landscapes and plants

-Stari (I’m gonna start anon tagging these)

stari you absolutely cooked with these.holy shit. these are all going in my pile of hcs now

[rhube]

I bought seeds from some gardening company once and they signed me up to their free magazine. Every quarter, at least, I was getting this thing that I know I never consented to. I never once opened it. And I never ordered from them again.

The weird thing is that it *isn't* complete nonsense. (Having worked in marketing.) A certain amount of just seeing a company's name more can make you trust them more, think of them more, buy from them more. And for a certain percentage of people - like those who would fall for email phishing scams - they genuinely won't see anything wrong with all this unsolicited mail. They may even appreciate it. Those people go on to actively subscribe, and the monthly donation or regular purchase from that small number of people is worth pissing off the majority who might have only bought from you once or twice anyway.

*Sometimes* that's what's going on. Sometimes it's stupid competitor research that is cheaper than user research, and which is used by poorly funded marketing teams because seeing what your nearest competitor's are doing and making sure you're doing it too is way easier than sourcing a sufficient quantity of users/customers to see if it actually works.

So enough companies with business models who have the scattergun approach, because they only care about the small number of people who won't mind or might even like being bombarded like this, means that companies for whom this isn't a good approach just copy them because it's such a huge trend.

To be honest, your C-suite bod doesn't have opinions about this (unless the business IS data harvesting or marketing, in which case they are selling this model to other companies). They are interfering in marketing in other stupid ways, like saying that every new thing has to be called an 'app' even if it's not an app, or that the business should be called 'X' because they think it's cool.

No, the way C-suite dicks affect this bullshit is by not adequately funding their marketing teams. I know a lot of people on this webbed site talk a lot of bollocks about marketing because they hate getting spammed, but if you're GOOD at marketing, you know what you need first and foremost is USER RESEARCH. That's gold dust. But it's expensive. It is UNDER-funded marketing teams that resort to this bullshit, because they can't do proper research where users can say 'yeah, we hate that'. And this happens a lot in tech companies, because the C-suite thinks the only parts of the company that matter are the devs and Sales (sales is not the same as marketing; they work on commission, so are motivated to be in your face all the time until you cave). Marketing is a department full of writers, designers, and sometimes researchers. C-suite generally think of those types of people as dead weight.

C-suite idiots will also hire department heads that only tell them what they want to hear, and that they want to hear is 'costs go down, line goes up' - it is the only thing they care about. And THOSE people hire people who either do shoddy competitor research because it's cheaper, or pressurise others to cut costs and meet tight deadlines that mean that user research simply cannot be done.

Tech C-suites behaving like this is also because a lot of tech is heavily invested in data harvesting to tell companies who to spam when and where. So their sales teams are deeply invested in convincing the senior management (below c-suite) to buy their crummy 'spam these people all the time' tech.

So yes, C-suite fools have a role in this bullshit, it's just more complicated and far reaching than most people think. And ultimately it is ALL driven by the Quick Sale ethos of venture capitalism, which doesn't care about pissing customers off long-term if it can get a sale now. Those people will be gone to the next thing when the company is floundering after alienating a large percentage of customers.

One of the surest signs that business executives are failing their way to the top is that every company you so much as order a toothbrush from thinks it's a sound marketing decision to email their customers multiple times per week, and then when people inevitably "update their email preferences" to tell the company never to email them again, they add more and more checkboxes to the email preferences page and say, oh well you never explicitly told us not to email you about toothpaste, because they only just added the toothpaste checkbox, so now you have to go uncheck the toothpaste box or just start marking all their emails as spam.

And it's not just retailers that do this! If I donate to your nonprofit, why are you punishing my donation with a constant barrage of spam? A few times a year, sure, send out a newsletter that actually has something to say. Anything more than that indicates to me that your nonprofit is dumping my donation into the bloated salary of some C-suite executive that spends half their day watching TED-X videos and the other half driving competent staff crazy by demanding they do stupid marketing schemes that will drive away donors.

[sunsbaby]

𓂃 ❝ living life for the first time ❞

a little more about my baby lighter .ᐟ reader; aka feu

𑁤 . if theres somewhere in a room far away from sam and dean, that's where you'll find feu.

it's not that she hates the winchesters—she's actually rather grateful for their hospitality. she's only afraid of the death that looms over them. how the whisper of the dead cling to their voices as they speak. they had no issue sealing her fate right before the witch cast a spell, so why wouldn't they now? if only she realized they only wanted to help.

𑁤 . feu finds comfort in those like her.

often sneaking off into the boys duffle bags and gathering their lighters. her feet padder against the flooring of the bunker as she rushes off into her room to speak with them. her voice is soft and gentle as she reassures them of their inevitable fate—not realizing that it was actually reassuring herself as well. she collects lighters, even the ones others would see as ugly because she feels bad. they are put on display in her room, and she talks to them continuously throughout the day.

𑁤 . feu loves the cold.

even as a lighter the silver casing engulfed her in a cool hug, unlike the warmth she provided. in the dead of winter you could catch her outside in only her undergarments—which the boys have to keep telling her she can't walk around like that—laying in the snow making little angels. in that moment all her fear and worries wash away as she giggles, smiling from ear-to-ear. an expression the winche have never seen her wear.

𑁤 . she often has to be fiddling with something or tracing a pattern to calm down.

feu's fingers often find themselves fidgeting with her necklace, sliding the pendant around as she listens in on the sounds it makes. sometimes if she's under a lot of stress—most likely from being forced to go on a hunt—she'll trace around the burn marks and rust adorning her body. though at times she wants to scrub it all off and wish she was a lighter again, maybe then the world wouldn't be so cruel.

𑁤. feu enjoys being in the presence of both blade and dem, after they turned human.

she'd spent long enough time in that god-forsaken duffle bag of theirs to become somewhat acquainted with both weapons used by the boys. when feu found out they were turned human as well, she immediately clung to their sides like a child would to a parent. her fingers always grasping onto one of their hands or the backs of their shirts. she sought comfort in their nature, and the knowledge of them living their first life as well. as she gradually warmed up—with the help of dem and blade—feu spent her time tapping away on either sam or deans computer with dem; playing their silly games together of course.

𑁤 . she cannot read nor tie her shoes (do not judge!!)

feu would attempt to help the boys with finding lore, after she finally got used to them. but soon came to realize she did not know what the jumble of letters sounded like. when she tried to form the sounds her eyes fogged up and her brain began to hurt as she struggled to figure it out all on her own. sam and dean had to calm her down as she cried about not being useful to them anymore. during hunts that she tagged along on, the most simple ones the boys went on at that, she often tripped on her laces. her knees always had scrapes on them due to the fact she did not know how to tie her own shoes nor did she want to learn—learning was hard. sam had came up the idea of giving her slip on shoes, those did not work the best either, so they just let her run around barefooted or with socks on. unless she absolutely HAD to wear shoes.

sunny yaps! MY BABY LIGHTER!READER HOW I WANNA PROTECT U FROM THE WORLD! GO CHECK OUT @h8aaz !READERS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I SAID SO!! I KNOW THIS IS SO LONG AHHHH

special tags! @bluemerakis @h8aaz @dulcescorderitas @daylighted @titsout4jackles

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[solarmorrigan]

18 with platonic stobin please! (Sorry if this sends twice I got an error message >:( whack)

Did not send twice, but I'm glad it came through at least once!

18. Headache - Platonic Stobin

cw: mentions of alcohol use

-

Robin is certain of three things:

1) Today is going to be terrible, 2) she’s dying, and 3) Steve is the worst.

Well – okay, no, that last one isn’t really true; he’s actually making breakfast for them both right now, which is great, because, again, Robin is probably dying.

It’s just he has the audacity to bustle around their kitchen like he hadn’t had just as much to drink as Robin had last night, like the morning sunlight filtering in through the windows isn’t stabbing painfully into his eyes the way it is Robin’s, like his stomach isn’t roiling like they’re on a ship in a storm, like the dark circles under his eyes and his sallow complexion don’t indicate he’s every bit as hungover as Robin is.

“How are you even functioning right now?” Robin whines from where her head is half hidden behind her arms, slumped over at the kitchen island.

Steve shrugs. “Practice, I guess?” His voice is a little croaky, but he sounds otherwise unaffected, and Robin hates it a little.

“There is no way you’ve been this hungover often enough to just be used to it,” Robin argues. “I would’ve noticed.”

“No, not hungover,” Steve answers with the soft breath of a laugh. “Just– migraines, y’know?”

Robin gives a vague, affirmative grunt, but it takes a few long moments for the meaning of the words to reach her through the soupy mess of her brain.

“Wait,” Robin mumbles, braving the murderous rays of the sun to look up at Steve where he’s standing over the stove. “This is what a migraine feels like?”

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling right now, but– are you nauseous?” Steve asks.

Robin swallows thickly, humming in the affirmative.

“Kinda dizzy?”

“Mm.”

“Light and noise make you feel kind of like you want to die?”

“God, yes.”

“Head hurt so much that you wish it would actually just fall off?”

Robin jams the heels of her palms into her eyes, nodding pitifully.

Steve hums. “Then that’s about it, yeah.”

“Oh my god.” Robin drags her hands down her face, staring blearily at Steve as he pokes nonchalantly at the eggs he’s currently scrambling. “You do this regularly?”

“Sometimes it’s not as bad. Sometimes it’s worse. That’s when I get stuff like trouble seeing, or talking. But I guess?” Steve shrugs again, the line of his shoulders stiff; it’s clear he doesn’t feel well, but he’s far more active than Robin thinks she has the capacity to be right now. “Like, this sucks, but I’d still classify it as okay enough to go to work. Maybe run errands, if they’re important.”

“Oh my god,” Robin mutters again, laying her head back on her folded arms. “You deserve financial compensation for being alive.”

Steve snorts. “When you find someone to talk to about that, let me know.”

The quiet clink of porcelain against tile sounds just beside Robin’s head, and she opens her eyes, unable to remember when she’d closed them. Scrambled eggs and buttered toast are laid out temptingly on a plate before her, looking good enough that she’s willing to contemplate actually eating them despite the faint protests of her stomach.

“Did you take something for your head already?” Steve asks.

“Tylenol,” Robin says, fingering the edge of the plate. “Definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Steve rounds the island, coming to stand behind the stool Robin is perched on. “Here, sit up straight for a minute.”

Robin groans, but slowly drags herself upright. Behind her, Steve laughs.

“Don’t complain; I’m gonna make it worth your while.”

Before she can ask just how he’s going to do that, Steve’s hands come up to rest at the juncture of Robin’s neck and shoulders, large and strong, a little clammy, but comforting and warm all the same. Then he digs his thumbs into the tense muscle at the back of Robin’s neck, and she thinks she might actually murder him.

The pain only lasts a few moments, though, before the stiff muscle gives way under Steve’s attention, loosening and relaxing until the persistent ache that’s been radiating from the back of Robin’s head begins to ease.

“Holy shit, you’re magic,” Robin says, hushed, almost reverent, shifting slightly in discomfort as Steve moves on to her shoulders, before the muscle there yields, too, granting another ounce of relief.

“Magic, huh?” Steve teases, sounding warm and smug. “I’m gonna remember you said that.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll deny it. You’re too full of yourself as it is,” Robin says, though it comes out with zero conviction, on the tail of a pleased sigh.

“Uh huh.” The massaging motion of Steve’s hands slows and tapers off, leaving him rubbing warm, comforting circles just at the slope where her neck meets her shoulders. “Well, now that I’ve worked my not-magic, do you feel like you could eat?”

Robin looks at the eggs and toast again and finds that her stomach has calmed a little now that her head isn’t pounding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. I didn’t put all that work in just to have it go to waste,” Steve says, moving back around the island to hop up on his own stool, pulling a second plate towards himself.

“Oh, yeah, ten whole minutes of work. You poor thing,” Robin drawls, but there’s an amused little smile tucked up into the corners of her mouth.

It might not be such a bad day after all, she decides, and she’s probably not dying, but she does know that Steve is actually, probably, the best.

[chemyaart]

Rant about the cookie run kingdom fandom

Okay, so I know I'm gonna get hated for this, but I don't care. Ignore if you're sensitive.

First, I just want to clarify that it's for every fandom, of course, bad apples exist everywhere. But at this point, I can't believe what I'm seeing. The more a media is cute, kid-friendly, the more the fandom is crazy (and not in a good way)

So, I want to adress the things that bother me a lot.

Firstly, I think the Beast Yeast update was both a good thing and a bad thing to happen. Let me explain. Of course, the enemies into lovers trope has always existed and it's the most popular trope, but I think that update actually flipped upside down the fandom. Toxic ships has always existed (like affocara, redpastry, etc..) but they weren't that common I think?

But after that update, it never became the same thing again. It honestly makes me uncomfortable how shippers say "hAhA ToXiC yAoI" for everything, especially Shadowvanilla. It makes me cringe (I like sometimes when it's funny cringy, but not uncomfortable cringe you know?)

I hate how CRK content mainly ships (like 90% of the time) it's sexual.

Of course, I guess sex jokes/suggestive jokes can exist, but it comes to a point where it's like everywhere. These shippers only think about these 24/7.

One thing that adds with the fandom, is how people love to woobify the characters. The misrepresent/misinterpret the character for something they're not. Headcanons are fine, but when I see Shadowvanilla, and purecacao fans... I'm really concerned. They woobify the characters into "b-b-b-but he's g-g-g-ood!" or "I'm j-just a-a innocent uwu gay boi" I understand if you're a kid/teen, but when I see adults doing that, I'm like actually scared.

Every character is complex, and it doesn't have to be romantic. I actually like the Shadowvanilla ship, but not to this extent. And I don't like them romantically. But I would love to see them grow.

Plus, not just woobifying the characters, but also just changing them entirely. Like their personalities, and just only keep one trait. For example, Pure Vanilla Cookie. He's the most popular cookie with Shadow Milk, and all I see is just him being all innocent and nice. Of course he is friendly and generous, but (especially purecacao shippers) think he's weak or something. But when you see him defeating Dark Enchantress ALONE in the video, he isn't WEAK at all.

Or Dark Cacao, all they make him is "manly man who is strong and protects his boi" or "neglectful dad bad dad". When it's much more complex than that. I'm shocked when their account is JUST about this ship. Like I like Purelily and Cacaolily, but I don't post to this extent about them. And even if I wish for Cacaolily to be real, I'm not delusional enough to repeat that they're canon like some shadowvanilla and purecacao fans do. Of course, you can say that they're joking, but there are actually people that seriously do this ☠️ (do what you want, but I just can't belive it myself)

Plus, the amount of times where these shippers also looked at the tiniest details of an interaction, and thought, "it's canon" it's actually crazy. Like I've seen a post about how Dark Cacao's face in the fight between the ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, meant that he loved Pure vanilla cookie in a romantic way ☠️

Obviously characters can care about eachother without liking them romantically. Plus, not only Dark cacao was saddened, but also Hollyberry and Golden Cheese. But you don't include that for your ship.

You guys can understand that I really hate Purecacao, right? Well, unlike Shadowvanilla fans, they don't attack me personally, and they're actually cool. The experiences I had with Purecacao shippers made me hate this ship.

Also, stop hating characters for no reason, because of misunderstanding or something. Whether it's Golden Cheese Cookie, where there are people who think she's selfish and as bad as the beasts, Lord Oyster, or anyone tbh. A lot of characters are hated for no reason, either from their design, or what they did. What I mean is, okay, hate a character, but PLEASE have a at least a reason why you hate the character, and not just because it blocks your ship 😭

It's actually crazy Kingdom fans hated Revel Cookie and Okchun Cookie just for their "simple" design? A lot of CRK fans are so narrow minded it's sad. I really hope your minds opens up more, especially to other ships. For example, rare pairs are cool, and I don't see the problem with it except if they're problematic like age gap, pdf things yk?

I hate Purecacao, Affocacao, but I just block their tag. They just love drawing them kissing and making out. As much as I hate them, I won't threaten them or sending death threats over it, you know? I'm really sorry if I was too rude, my emotions get over me, I really hope it didn't hurt you.

At the end of the day, do what you want. Just don't interact with me. And please improve yourself, a lot of you guys need therapy, myself included. I needed to rant.