#WE COULD SEE MORE OF RUTH TOO

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

ALEX KISTER CONFIRMED MANDELA CATALOGUE VOL5 IS TAKING PLACE IN 1992 DOES THAT MEAN WE GET MORE CLUES ABOUT MARK AND CESAR????

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Husbands Boss x Married! Reader

"Just Another Day at The Office."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, misogyny, name calling, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem genitalia for reader, mentions of divorce, general perversion, praise, clit play, cheating, readers husband is a scumbag.

(AN: Requested by an Anon early today, and it made me feral.)

Tick... tick... tick... the sound of an office clock rings in your ears, the only sound louder is your heart, pounding in your ribcage. The clock was awfully loud, though you had never noticed it before, when you were coming to bring your husband a warm, home-cooked meal. Maybe then you didn't notice it because you weren't fearing for your future.

Morgan & Cole, the investment firm your husband had been working for for years had been doing better than ever, and in turn, so had your husband. Promotions, expensive raises, and more had been sent his way. The house was even being repainted. All that begs the question, how had you found yourself in this situation.

It was a few nights ago when your husband informed you of the deal he had made with his boss. Morgan, the co-owner of the company, had his sights set on you, apparently. At a holiday party, he approached your husband with an offer, an offer to get a night with you in exchange for another fat raise. You had always known your husband hadn't been the most loving, but you had never imagined his greed could get to this. The worst part was how casual the deal he described was. Approaching a man at an office party and asking to sleep with his life like you were discussing sports frightened you. You had only met Morgan once or twice, and while he seemed charming, him doing something like this made you very much doubt he was in actuality.

You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door opening. Morgan steps out of his office, fidgeting with his smart-watch when he looks up and sees your meek form in the office lobby. His brow furrows.

"Oh, Mrs. Peters, I hadn't expected you to met me here. I had intended to come pick you up. How long have you been here?" He asks. You gulp. "Not long, just ten or so minutes." You say, trying to hold eye contact. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I wish you would have knocked on my office door, I feel awful having left you out here alone. Come, we can head back into my office and chat." His voice is so soothing, and in any other situation it would have been nice. You enter his office, and he closes the door behind him, before sitting at his desk. You take the chair in front of it.

"So, I assume your husband-" His teeth grind as he says this. "Is assume he has gone over what this is about." You nod. "He did... and... and I don't know if I can do this. I don't know you at all, and I'm a married woman." You whimper. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, and Morgan sighs heavily. He comes around to lean back against the front of the desk, one hand supporting him while the other touches your cheek.

"I know this must be scary, I understand that. But I'm gonna solve both of those problems right now." He kneels down so your eyes meet his. "First, you worry you don't know me. Let me fix that. My name is Morgan Brant, I am thirty-two, and I live in a loft down on 37th. I like charcuterie and making my own organic lattes. I work out everyday, and enjoy walking through the city. I have both of my parents, Ruth and John, and they live in the city as well. Anything else you'd like to know?" You're too stunned and still panicked to respond, so you just shake your head. "Okay, okay. Good." He murmurs. A hand strokes your hair softly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. To your shock, for a man who basically paid for a co-workers wife to prostitute herself, he does seem genuinely upset at your fear. His eyes are filled with a sorrow, and he chews his bottom lip nervously. He looks down for a moment.

"Mrs. Peters, your second concern, about being a married woman, is very respectable. I appreciate that you respect the sanctity of marriage so much. I think your loyalty and love for your husband is beautiful." He pauses, and gently grips your chin so you look him in the eyes. "But... I worry that love and loyalty may not be returned. Mrs. Peters, I need you to promise me you will listen to what I am about to tell you." You gulp, his suddenly serious, yet still soft, tone worries you.

He stands, walking to the back of his desk and opening a drawer, grabbing a manila envelope before sitting down at his chair again. He pushes the envelope towards you, folding his hand together and sitting up. He looks as those this odd exchange is yet another business deal, as he sits like a man prepared to do whatever it takes to seal a deal. A real businessman. Your hand trembles as it opens the envelope. Your heart stops.

Inside, your husband can be seen in several photos, from many different angles. Some looked ripped from security footage, others appear to be taken at a distance. However, they all contain the same subject. Your husband, locking lips with various women, every photo a different one. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a choked sob. "N-no... I mean, he was never warm to me, b-but..." Everything comes crashing down at once. All those nights you waited up for him when he was 'working late', all those warm meals you brought him at work, only to be brushed off so he could talk to his secretary. It all made sense.

"I can't believe this..." You squeak. Morgan shakes his head. "You can believe it, I know you can. He's never loved you, I've seen how he treats you. Rejecting your meals, ignoring you at office parties and work functions. My dear, he is actively sitting at home and preparing to count the bonus he received for pimping you out to me." Morgan exclaims, his shoulders tightening. You put your head in your hands. "I'm... what am I going to do?! I'll divorce him, but I'll have nothing. I, oh god." You cry. Morgan once again moves to try and comfort you. His broad arms wrap around your shoulders.

"I know, I know this is scary. You've been through a lot tonight, your entire marriage even. But it's going to be okay." He cups your face. "I've been watching the two of you, you mostly." He hands you something. An empty tupperware container. "This is from his lunch yesterday. Every meal he rejected from you, I gladly took. I hadn't had the chance to eat something made so lovingly in a long time. They don't serve home-cooked meals like this at business conferences." He chuckles. "I saw how you would cling to him at those same parties he was ignoring you at, and wishing, praying you would cling to me like that." You look up, his confession is shocking. "Your husband... he is a greedy man, but he has pride. I knew I wouldn't even get a moment along with you unless there was something in it for him." He shakes his head. "Darling, I was just as disgusted as you were that he'd agree to that. As excited as I was, as I am for this moment with you, I was thanking whoever is out there that no other person at this office had tried something similar. I'm not some deviant, or criminal. I've had my fair share of sexual encounters, with prostitutes and escorts, but... I never felt anything. I need to feel something. I do with you." He says.

You shake your head. "You don't know me." You say. He shrugs. "You don't need to someone to love them, not at first. I hate to say this, but you didn't really know your husband, did you?" You sob again, and his sticks his hands out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry darling, that was out of line. I just needed to prove a point. What I'm saying is, I don't just want one night of pleasure with you. I want you to be mine. If you left him, you wouldn't be lost or desolate, you would have me. I could give your everything he has and more. Money, a penthouse, and my love. Real love. You deserve someone who wants to care for you the way you cared for that man-child. I can do that." You sniffle. "It's all so soon, and I don't... I'm scared." You say again. "I know. I hadn't wanted to do this here. I had wanted to show you the pictures and confess early on, I had plans to pick you up and take you somewhere nice to eat. I know the last thing you want right now is a fresh new relationship, I understand. But just maybe, the idea of revenge tempts you?" He suggests. You look up, and bite your lip. "What are you suggesting?" You ask.

"He thinks he's better than you, and that you could never leave him, because you have no one else, nothing else. Why else do you think he assumes their will be no repercussions for a night like this? He's so confident that you would never leave him, never even think about another man, that he truly believes you will return to him after he's pimped you out." Morgan moves closer. "I won't lie, I'll enjoy this, but don't just do it for me. Do it for yourself. Give in, leave him for a man who will worship you, who can give you more. Get back at him, and be with me." You shake your head. "You... you paid him to pimp me out to you like this though?" You exclaim. He nods "I had to show you how little he cared for you, same with the investigators I hired to get those photos." He nods in the direction of the envelope, now dabbled with your tears. "Besides, I've already signed his termination papers, I don't hire men like that here. He isn't getting shit for doing this to you." He assures.

In a moment of weakness, you break. The betrayal of the evening, the hurt and the fear, the anger, it's all too much. You sink to your knees, and nod. "Alright, let's do it. Just... be gentle, go slow." He nods. "Oh, my sweet. I'll do whatever you ask." He captures your lips, pressing your back against the front of his desk as he kneels beside you. His lips are soft, and taste of bourbon and mint. He smells like cologne, but a good kind, something smokey. Not like the tacky expensive stink of your husband, now ex-husbands favorite cologne. His tongue prods at your lips, and shyly you part them, allowing his tongue to slip in and suck against yours. He groans, and you both pull away breathlessly. While you take a breath, he immediately latches onto your neck, placing quick, feverish kisses along your collarbone. You gasp at the feeling, shrinking in on yourself. He grins.

"Does it really feel that good, that's quite a reaction." He chuckles. You blush and look to the side. "It's- It's been a while." He frowns and tilts his head. "How long is awhile, darling?" He whispers. "A few months, maybe eight or so." He shakes his head. "My poor girl, doing all that for him and he still wouldn't please you." He grips your waist, his lips on the shell of your ear. "To be fair though, even if he did, he couldn't make you finish. He would please himself, not you. But I won't, baby. Tonight, is all about you." You can feel a thick hardon pressing against your knee.

"Tell you what, darling. Let me make you feel good, real quick. Something nice and easy for my sensitive girl. Then, I'l take you out. I'm not just going to have sex with you without wineing and dineing you. Then, I'll take you back to my place, I-I'll send for your stuff tomorrow, and if you want, we can go for round two." He coos, looking up at you with admiration and hope. "Won't my husband try to resist my stuff being taken?" You ask. He shakes his head. "He's not your husband. If he calls, I'll hang up. He sold you out, and if he gets pissy, I've go the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. I'm not letting you spend one more night under a roof with that man. You aren't Mrs. Peters anymore, you're Mrs. Brant. Now... let Mr. Brant make you feel good." Hands cradle your thighs, slipping the skirt of your sensible slip dress up over your knees. A hand paws at your panties, cupping your cunt as he sighs. "So warm, poor little thing hasn't been touched in months. I've only kissed your neck a little, and your soaked. Is it because I said I love you? Does your little cunt respond well to just being admired and appreciated? Oh, my darling." He slips your panties aside just a little, not wanting to ruin your outfit for dinner later. Fingers part your lips as a long digit strokes up, from your entrance to your clit. A finger prods the entrance, and you gulp at the throbbing heat you feel.

"Gentle, slow please." You murmur. He nods, placing a gentle kiss on your neck before slipping in his digit. His long, calloused fingers rub your neglected walls in all the right ways. "A-ah, Morgan..." You pant. "Good?" He asks. You nod, breathless already. He thrusts it in and out gently, before asking to add another digit. When you nod, he adds another, while his free hand circles your clit with his middle finger. Perhaps its from typing everyday, day in and day out, but he is skilled. Even when your husband has slept with you, you had never felt like this. A coil forms in your stomach as you pant and whimper.

"M-morgan." You moan. "Please, I need to-" You're cut off by him sharply curling his fingers, as they hit a spongy spot deep inside you. "Oh, god. Yes." You moan again. "Cum for me, darling, please. I want to hear you." Morgan's tone is suddenly more desperate ethan you had heard it all night. He's needy, begging to know that he is pleasing you in the way he so desires. "Say my name, would you? I just want to please you, I need to know it feels good." He begs. "Morgan, I'm gonna cum, shit-" Your walls begin to pulse, juices coating his fingers. As you moan, finishing your high, he kisses you feverishly, desperate for closeness.

When you pull away, panting as you come down from your orgasm, he licks your juices off his hands with a squelching noise, putting your panties back into place. He helps you to your feet, and hands your your purse. "Ready for dinner?" He asks. Tired and very hungry, you nod. "Just one more thing, and you don't have to do anything, I've dealt with this myself plenty but-" He looks down, the tent in his pants is still very prominent.

"May I handle that before we go out?"

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

 I don’t see any ladies here.

 He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see. 

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him. 

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ 

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily. 

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys. 

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor. 

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear. 

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for. 

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….” 

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.” 

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?” 

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else. 

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin. 

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open. 

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said. 

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there. 

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in. 

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit. 

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you. 

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you. 

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed. 

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so. 

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it? 

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked. 

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama? 

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.” 

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.” 

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it? 

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home. 

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.” 

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew. 

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.” 

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.” 

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge. 

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.”  Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, ���I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving. 

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life. 

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language. 

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again. 

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you. 

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill. 

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening. 

Maybe he had been running himself ragged. 

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure. 

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would. 

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running. 

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them. 

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought. 

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation. 

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing. 

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head. 

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.” 

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one. 

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers. 

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box. 

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there. 

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week. 

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare? 

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still. 

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming. 

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did. 

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core. 

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up. 

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time. 

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows. 

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night. 

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up. 

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps.  “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling. 

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

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[demelzathemer]

I'm watching the Doom Patrol episode for the first time ever and LOSING MY MIND, why didn't anyone tell me this is GOOD??? It's written by Steve Yockey and it SHOWS because the dialogue is absolutely the same as in the netflix series

Crystal is so catty and Edwin is fed up with people while Charles mediates, they're the same characters just played by different people?? I'm gonna add some shitty screensnaps here to yell about it

Obviously spoilers if you care about that;

Crystal <3 She looks closer to her comicbook self but has the same amount of sass as her netflix self

I swear I'm so normal about this bit of dialogue. Crystal telling Edwin Charles will protect him (with a baseball bat, mind you, they're in the States!) and their responses, I wish I could see Jayden and George act this part.

(I can hear "I'd do it anyway, won't I?" in Jayden's voice... weeps)

Edwin sassing out little girls again??? I lost it with the pose and voice

WEAK FOR THOSE BIG BROWN EYES

(Jayden's voice again. I know you hear it)

He should've been allowed to drape himself over Edwin like this too. Why would Netflix do this to me

"Love this." EDWIN??? He's way too happy that they're gonna smack their client with a shovel.

And CHARLES (pulls it out without anyone asking, he knows what's going to happen next) HANDS IT TO CRYSTAL so she can be the one doing the smacking???

And she's way too eager as well. What is happening here. Though I love how seamlessly they work as a trio now. Even if it's for the purpose of knocking out their unsuspecting client

"The price to open the door to afterlife is pain, and I'm the only one who can do it."

With the door handle being a BABYDOLL HEAD. With HELL FLAHBACKS. What the actual fuck?

I thought the doll spider was netflix original character??

And Charles immediately being "you don't have to do it, we can find another way in" I might be crying

Charles is afraid of water??? That's CANON?? It has to be, nothing has been changed about the characters so far!

Charles (with red-rimmed eyes): "I'm not scared! Just so you know."

Edwin (lying to make Charles feel better): "We know."

They're so in love. But what do you mean with "I'll make sure he's fine"? What are you gonna do, Edwin? Hold his hand on the boat ride? (They didn't show that part, so that's probably what happened.)

They had ONE episode and they still had to make sure that we know Edwin's gay.

I'm OBSESSED with this line and this repressed version of Edwin, I don't have the words right now but I read someone's brilliant analysis about it. (Pls link if you find it)

"I used to think that, too. But it's not 1916 anymore, you know?"

"Well, I'm not like you. But thanks for the concern."

Edwin, oh my god that is so sad. What makes you think you don't deserve happiness? I need to study him under a microscope

...Then STRAIGHT INTO death flashbacks??? They didn't leave anything out, watching this one episode spoils 7 out of 8 episodes of the netflix series?!

"She's good." Edwin appreciates Crystal! I love that they genuinely are a trio here and the boys know about her quirks like they know each other

Also David lore is unchanged too and Crystal bonding with Dorothy was so sweet

...THE NIGHT NURSE IS HERE TOO?? I thought she was a netflix original character too (Cat King, Tragic Mick and Jenny are, at least?)

AND SHE'S RUTH CONNEL??? ALSO WTF JUST HAPPENED

Her character is pretty different alright, and played very differently by the same actress??? And Charles just WENT FOR IT unprovoked?! Do they know about her in this universe, is she like a monster that's actively hunting them down and can be alerted by killing(?) I literally don't know anymore this is crazy

(Edwin was so cute jumping up and cheering lol. A bit jarring how much more he curses here though)

This is actually an insane episode, the trio with their huge amount of lore just drop in in the middle of already established group of characters and their lore and then, they're never seen again after this??

And they had flashbacks to both of their deaths without explaining ANYTHING about what the hell was that. Just five seconds of "being chased and covered in blood", teasing something about their relationship, Crystal dropping her goal of beating her missing memories out of a demon, no conclusion of wtf was "spider-face lady" aka the Night Nurse, etc etc. They needed their own show really badly huh

So netflix hurry up and give us a second season! After seeing this I'm blown away by the execution of Dead Boy Detectives and how Jayden and George really brought the characters to life. I'm so thankful we have that. Their chemistry really is what makes the show.

[theworldofotps]

Painting (Drabble)

Pairing: Lord Debling x Reader Word Count: 743 Description: Y/n is struggling with a painting when she recieves some much needed help.

So, I have never written fanfiction for Bridgerton before but after watching the first half of season 3 and meeting Lord Debling I couldn't help myself. I'm also very nervous to post this because it's a bit out of my comfort zone but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Dedicated to: @madhatterbri who encouraged me to write this, helped form the plot and is overall one of the best. I appreciate you so much thank you! (I haven't added my normal tag list since those are usually just for wrestling. If you'd like to be added to a tag list of anything I write besides wrestling let me know!) __________ Y/n let out a soft huff as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, staring at the canvas in front of her. She’d spent the last two hours trying to paint a bird from the book set on a stool in front of her. This was a painting she just didn’t want to mess up on but the more she stared at it the worse it seemed to look.

“Is everything alright m’lady?”

“Yes Ruth, just having a bit of difficulty getting these colors to work and blend the way that I wish them too.”

“Please let me know when you are ready, and I shall draw the bath for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

Watching the maid leave, Y/n turns back towards her painting and examines the book once more. Adjusting the apron she wore over her dress to keep from ruining it, she dipped into her paints again. More time passed and her frustrations only grew as the colors started running and made the bird look like a mess.

Dropping the paintbrush in the pot of water she hung her head in defeat, deciding to just start all over again. Not having heard the door open she nearly jumped, feeling a pair of arms wrapping around her before a chuckle sounded in her ear.

“Sorry to startle you love I thought you heard me enter.”

“That’s alright my lord I just was focusing on something else.”

Alfred glanced around to be sure they were alone before pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

“Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I’m trying to paint this bird and all of my colors keep running I’ve spent hours on it but alas to no avail.”

Remaining silently as his eyes drifted over the canvas in front of them, since they had began courting he was trying to take interest in her hobbies. When he found out she had a love for painting much like his mother, it was one he quickly did his best to learn all he could about it.

“Allow me to offer my assistance to you.”

Grabbing her hand gently together they picked up the brush, the sparks of electricity she felt as they moved together dipping into her paint pallet. She could barely concentrate at the feel of him pressed against her back. When the brush touched the canvas, she let out a soft laugh.

“What is it brining you such joy my dear?”

“Your beard tickles my cheek.”

Y/n spoke softly as his own smile grew to match hers the two talking in soft whispers as he helped her fix the once ruined picture.

“What do you think?”

“It looks so much better thank you for your help now we both must sign it.”

She said pointing to the feather quill and pot of ink sat on the desk a few feet away from them, Alfred reached over grabbing the quill. Signing the name Debling then placing the quill in her hand so she could sign her last name.

Placing it back in the ink pot Y/n slowly turned to face him their eyes meeting hers lighting up as his softened.

“Miss. Y/n  I know this may come forth as a bit forward but may I kiss you?”

He asked a slight nervous quiver to his voice if you listened close enough she remained silently causing him to clear in throat. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured into anything. After a moment her smile grew as she leaned closer to him their lips brushing in the softest touch before a knock on the door sent them apart. Composing themselves she turned to see Ruth entering one more.

“Excuse me miss but your mother is looking for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth please tell her, that I will be right there.”

Ruth nodded, leaving them alone again y/n sighing softly she turned back to Alfred who gently touched her cheek.

“I must be going as it is rather late, I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon would that be alright?”

“Yes, I would enjoy that very much my lord.”

The pair left the room and y/n saw him to the front entrance, his fingers once more touching her cheek in a bid farewell. Watching him leave she sighed her arms wrapping around herself, the thought of his arms around her caused her face to heat up. Turning, she went off in search of her mother.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you know much about historical cuisine? Saw yet another anime with friends and they went the whole 'modern food always tastes better' bit. I feel tired of the trope and am wondering how different historical cuisine would taste compared to modern times. So anything you happen to know as a historian would be cool to know!

That varies MASSIVELY based on time and location. Like. Much more than fashion does, even, I'd imagine (in a given sub-region- I can talk about Mainstream European and Euro-American Fashion of the 19th CenturyTM but the food was so different in different countries that were dressing the same, if that makes sense? just as an example).

Food is often more globalized in a lot of places nowadays, so the characters might have more diversity of flavors from the regional norm than they're used to. But this could be a good or a bad thing- a woman from 17th-century Japan might love pizza and much sweeter Western pastries, or she might absolutely hate them. Which is not to say regional cuisines haven't evolved, too- a museum here in Boston used to have tastings of 18th-century-style hot chocolate, and it was very different from the modern sort. But that's the largest blanket difference across the globe that I can think of, food-wise.

Not sure what anime this was, so it could have been Japan-specific, but I feel like this gets applied the most to the 19th-mid 20th century UK and United States. The whole Captain America line about "food's better; we used to boil everything," for example, and the general belief that everything was bland mush in those areas until the 1950s and then it was incomprehensible Jell-O mold horrors until approximately the 1980s. And of course, none of that's true- there were plenty of dishes that used spices and different cooking methods, many of which are still popular today. See also: Jonathan Harker, a Normal 1890s Englishman, getting so rhapsodical about paprikahendl that he simply must have the recipe for his fiancee to make. There also WERE bland mushes and fluorescent nightmares, but there's less than ideal food today, as well.

(Note that I'm much less confident talking about the whole English StodgeTM thing as we get into the 20th century. That is outside my history wheelhouse and there's a lot of different stuff embroiled in it relating to class and such that I don't want to talk out my ass about. All I know is that I've seen plenty of recipes from as late as the end of the 19th century, from England and some from urban Scotland if I recall correctly, that made ample use of spices. Nutmeg, mustard, black pepper, rosemary, caraway, and cayenne pepper were especially popular (not all together obviously). There was a belief among the middle and upper classes that strong flavors of garlic and onion were distasteful to ladies, but the fact that cookbooks and such feel the need to mention it implies that those elements WERE being used in cooking generally, in the UK, at that time. So wherever the idea that All British Food Is Beige And Tasteless came from, it wasn't mainstream late Victorian cooking for adults as far as I can tell)

(They gave kids a fair amount of the beige and tasteless because they believed their digestive systems couldn't handle strongly-flavored- okay now I'm getting off topic. Read Ruth Goodman's "How To Be A Victorian." Anyway!)

tl;dr- The answer to "is modern food better?" is "that's literally impossible to answer as a blanket statement, since it's massively dependent on the character's original time, place, social status, and personal taste- and where they end up in the present, of course."

Now, I do agree that the trope is annoying the same way every single princess being totally shocked and appalled when her marriage is arranged gets annoying- not because it can't be true based on history and human behavior, but because fiction treats it as some kind of universal precept. Mix it up a little sometimes! Have a Regency character who comes to the present, finds out that her favorite local cheese isn't being made anymore, and loses her entire mind!

[m1ssunderstanding]

You know if even Francie is saying it I'm starting to think old Jim Mac may have been slightly abusive, I don't think that's the right word since what happened it was a different time and place etc. But with the way he treated Paul and Mike, especially after Mary's passing and how he expected so much more when his son was one of the most famous musicians in the world, it's just - his whole family to he fair it's like they never really saw him as human and more akin to a musical monkey

Yeah I would actually call it abuse. I think Jim probably had mostly good intentions and genuinely loved his sons, but that doesn't mean his treatment of them was just or didn't have any affect on them. By my definitions, there's emotional as well as physical abuse going on (Paul was expected and pressured from the time they started to realize how intelligent he was to grow up and save his entire family from poverty; Appearances were everything and emotional needs suppressed; There was no financial security; After Mary's death, Paul was extremely patentified, depended on emotionally and materially by the person who was simultaneously physically abusing him)

About the normalization of the physical abuse specifically for a minute, if it was so normal for the time, why is Paul the only one of the four Beatles to have experienced it? My family has always been working class, and my grandparents who are Paul's age were not subjected to the violence that Paul was. Not saying it wasn't more common then and more accepted, but it's also not something you can just pass off as "that's what everyone did in those days".

Also, I wouldn't be surprised at all if even in that one interview where Paul specifically talked about how he got Jim to stop hitting him, he was downplaying. That's what Paul does. We have no way of knowing. But it does fit with Paul's usual story-telling and framing of events that maybe it was more than what he said.

And yeah, the financial abuse started early and clearly continued far into adulthood, maybe up until Jim's death when Paul cut Angie and Ruth off for selling his birth certificate. Paul was trained as a door-to-door salesman for Jim's club as a nine year old in the literal projects. He figured out how to snatch other people's lunch tickets out of the fire at the inny and pass them off as unused. What are we going to do without her money? He first saw John when he was a paper boy and John was buying chips. As soon as the band started making money, he became the head provider of his family (Jim made 10 pounds a week at the cotton brokers while Paul made 15 a week in Hamburg) and when the band wasn't making money, he found whatever work he could to make up for it. Meanwhile, we have no reason to believe Jim wasn't gambling insatiably. As the child of an addict, I know addictions don't just go away and then resurface when they're affordable again, and Jim was certainly an addict. He gambled so much Paul had to buy his house back for him (that he'd bought for him in the first place while Paul himself was living in an attic room like some kind of starving artist at the same time as the rest of the band was buying their mansions).

Paul clearly loved his dad so much and craved Jim's approval, trying to find a girl Jim would approve of after Jane, trying to be a good family man, trying to stay close to his working class roots. You can even see it in his music, from When I'm 64 to A Walk in the Park with Eloise. (I think the 1920s & 30s influence in much of his music came from him genuinely loving it and also from a desire for his dad to appreciate his talent). But he also had no patience for Jim's frailty toward the end, didn't go to the funeral, and didn't write about Jim's death in MYFN.

I really don't know too much about the extended family, anon, but it does seem the case that part of Paul's role in it, from the beginning, was to be a savior and a cash cow, and no one considered his humanity.

[gotskamstuff]

My honest review of PART 1 (that nobody asked for but I wanna talk about it)

‼️ SPOILER FOR S4 pt.1 (obviously but still a fair warning) ‼️

After watching the entirety of part one I have to admit that I am a bit confused by my own reaction ‘cause there are so many little things that I loved and missed about the show and we finally found back, but at the same time on the overall it kind of disappointed me a little how much time was taken away from the important things and going straight to the point…it was mainly ruined by Topper and Sofia’s storylines, both incredibly boring, repetitive and totally unnecessary.

I gotta say I LOVED episode 1 and episode 5 and half of episode 2, they had me hooked and got me really into the Outer Banks feels from S1 both in terms of adventure and Pogues dynamics, but I feel like half of episode 2 and episodes 3-4 nothing really big happened and there was just a lot of filler scenes, in terms of plot and storyline for the treasure hunt all that happened in 4 episodes is that they found the necklace and lost it, just in episode 5 they actively move forward.

There was so much unnecessary stuff that felt like plot fillers, probably gonna get a good portion of the fandom against this statement ‘cause I know the character got so many fans, but Rafe? The amount of scenes he got with Sofia repeating the same thing over and over was too much in my opinion, it felt like fan service just to get Drew on screen as much as possible. The whole Sofia character and storyline is actually insane to me how much screen time and attention got, no offense but…who cares? It’s kind of crazy that we got scenes of Sofia’s home, family, relationship, insecurities and background BEFORE WE EVEN GOT CLEO’S!

Too much screentime and too much attention to background characters (IMMENSELY background) that the audience could not care less about, especially when it came to the expenses of the main characters story and depth. This goes for Sofia just like Topper and quite frankly also Terrance.

Sofia is a character that we barely saw one season ago for a total of probably 2-3 minutes, now she’s taking up minutes upon minutes and various scenes IN EACH EPISODE and to repeat the same thing over and over again…I feel like one scene would have been enough to understand she doesn’t fit in with the Kooks and therefore she turns on Rafe, also there hasn’t been no built ups whatsoever neither over her or her relationship with Rafe. As i said we barely ever saw this character, why or how is the audience supposed to care or empathize with her? Why is the audience supposed to care all of a sudden about Rafe and Sofia’s relationship? It went from 0 to 100 out of nowhere, from the most irrelevant thing last season to now apparently being the entire storyline for Rafe. There would have been so many more interesting things to see about Rafe’s behavior after his father’s death, how he lost it, how he’s reacting and clearly trying to become the man Ward was, but no it was just “gotta invest and be good for me and Sofia”…none of the things he cared for (and literally went psycho for) were explored with any depth: his family, the gold, the family’s property at Tanny Hill he wanted to keep, how he said he’d seek revenge if anything happened to Ward etc.

Topper as well…did they not get the memo last season of how tired the audience is of his repetitive storyline? He comes, insults the Pogues, digs at John B about Sarah and blablabla, still WHO CARES? And who cares he got a girlfriend or that he has something to prove to her? Who cares that he hosts parties and who cares he was there surfing and causing problems with the Pogues? Who cares about this Ruth girl suddenly beefing with Kie? This has been done and over for 4 seasons now, we could’ve just seen him talk to Rafe once and impress his girlfriend about the investments on the land which is the only relevant thing for the plot.

And I’m probably gonna sound like a bitch here but Terrance as well, was it necessary? I mean, the only good thing about it is that we FINALLY got a tiny little minuscule bit of backstory for Cleo but even that was sooooo superficial. Once again they wanted the audience to empathize with something that was portrayed so minimally. Terrance reappeared out of nowhere without any explanation, told Cleo to comply and died…damn we could’ve at least seen a little more of that bond he and Cleo had, have him be there a little more for a couple of episodes, see him look out for Cleo and save her to empathize a bit more with his death and even find out more about Cleo’s upbringing since it’s something related to one of the main characters, but no.

Sofia, Topper, Ruth, Terrance and I’m sorry but I’m gonna include even Rafe in this list, are all characters that have no relevance anymore for the show and might as well not be there at all, they don’t add anything valuable to this story and just take away time from the plot with irrelevant and marginal scenes that no one cares about.

I guess my overall disappointment is that a lot of the Pogue’s storyline got put too much on the side and brushed off way too quickly for the sake of irrelevant characters who got way more screentime than needed to the point it started getting boring/irritating.

Barely saw Sarah and John B mourning their fathers, not even slightly explored the evident fear of John B turning into his dad that was just blurted out of nowhere by Pope, Pope’s family that’s been a constant in this series is nowhere to be seen, Kiara’s family dynamic and storyline is brushed off ENTIRELY with a 3 seconds flashbacks and with her parents suddenly being at the ceremony without a clue on what happened in between, Cleo’s backstory that was promised to us was just a quick show up in one episode of an old character and one line “he raised me since I was 13”…and can we talk about JJ’s reunion with Luke?

It was probably the most anticipated plot and one of the things the audience cared the most about and it felt so anticlimactic, same thing for the discovery of JJ’s parents. A MASSIVE PLOT TWIST in the main storyline of a main character blurted out like that so casually? Solved in one episode in a handful of minutes of screentime? I was actually getting really excited about the build up towards JJ’s past ‘cause I feel like they were doing a pretty good job with the hints and the subtle way it was getting anticipated that JJ’s mom was the woman who died and then Luke comes back without any type of suspense and in two minutes of screentime “I gotta tell you I am not your father and that wasn’t your mother” just like that, as if the Maybanks storyline isn’t what defined the entirety of JJ’s character and personality. There was so much more depth that could’ve gone into their reunion with mixed emotions and there could’ve been waaaay more pathos about JJ discovering his true identity. It was just thrown out there after 3 minutes on screen with his dad.

Even all the couples and ships, we saw more of Rafe and Sofia’s relationship than we saw JJ and Kiara (perhaps the most anticipated ship) or Pope and Cleo.

I feel like even the whole treasure hunt was moving so slowly and got put in the background, the only real high was in half of episode 2 with the scuba diving portion and in episode 5 when they actually go do something and they are in the catacombs, I’d include Cleo’s kidnapping but once again it got done and solved so minimally and once again interrupted by scenes with Rafe, Sofia and Topper when we could’ve been on the suspense for Cleo.

Personally I think that what people really missed about S1 ans S2 was the Pogues dynamic (which I ADORED so far in part one and this is something that to me made the whole season dear to me, finally they’re back with their essence) but also how action packed the show was EVERY EPISODE, back then it was almost as if each episode was its own mission for every discovery and every adventure they went on, it was a constant “onto the next move” and so high on adrenaline and action around the treasure hunt and I don’t know, it overall felt so slow this time and like they did so little discovery except the necklace and the crown (which was just mentioned).

And I gotta be real here, the reason why I say episode 1 and 5 (and half of 2) were my favorite was indeed because it was PACKED with the Pogues, the catch up to their story, their dynamic, moves being made in the plot with the treasure…and MOSTLY because they had the least interruption from all that Sofia and Topper boring stuffs that just kept breaking the flow of the story with irrelevant scenes.

I know that at this point I’m sounding so negative and believe me, the first person saddened about this is me. I was so excited for this season AND I STILL AM but I gotta admit, I really loved a lot of things (and I’ll probably show my excitement during the wait for part 2 with a lot of things I want to rewatch, theorize about and obsess over) but also I couldn’t get past my annoyance over the superficiality the main characters personal storylines suffered from compared to the excessive importance it was given to background characters.

And once again I’m sure my excitement over the episodes I just watched will probably build up in the wait for part 2 but it’s because I’ll be able to control where to direct my interest and attention concentrating more on the things I liked and found interesting, but I gotta say that my gut reaction on first impact while watching for the first time is that something kept breaking the flow of the storytelling so far (what I just explained about the excessive irrelevant subplots).

Get more screentime and more depth to our Pogues feelings and personal stories…WE DON’T CARE ABOUT SOFIA AND TOPPER!!

[sakkiichi]

TICKETS TO BARBIE.

watching the barbie movie with him.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao, Venti, Kaveh, Albedo, Arataki Itto x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, crack, modern au, headcanons.

word count: 1.6k.

so, i went to see the barbie movie the other day. my friend watched it too 🩵 (sadly we couldn’t go together, as we live miles away), but we both loved it, so i thought this would be a fun idea for some quick headcanons.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

— Kazuha just loves seeing how excited you are to watch the new Barbie movie. His warm eyes shine and his smile is lovestruck as he observes you rushing around, preparing your pink outfit.

— He’ll have to dedicate a poem to you, with Barbie’s signature color wrapped around you as the main theme.

— If you want to match outfits with him, your boyfriend will oblige, because even if the color choice is not something he’d wear usually, Kazuha loves the idea of matching with you and he adores even more how happy you look.

— Your sparkly gaze when you decorate his hair with pink strawberry and hello kitty clips makes his heart feel all warm and fuzzy, to the point of getting lost in your stare and completely spacing out when you call his name.

— “You’re so beautiful, dove.” Your lover dreamily sighs, when he finally comes to. Cupping your face, don’t blame him if he smudges your perfectly applied lipgloss with his honeyed kisses, alright?

— You and Kazuha are definitely that super cute and affectionate couple at the cinema. From holding hands, to him sneaking cheek kisses, to you feeding him popcorn… Everyone adores your little displays of affection, you two are just so sweet.

— Also, Kazuha looks so good in pink! If you tell him that, though, he’ll get all blushy. And oh, when you caress his face or kiss his forehead? He’s just like a baby bunny with how cute he is. However, he’ll be sure to fluster you with his multiple compliments…

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

— You quite literally have to drag him to watch the movie.

— “Barbie? Isn’t that for little girls?” He spat with a frown, arms crossed over his chest when you presented the idea to him.

— However, your boyfriend happens to be very soft for you, so just give him the puppy eyes and he’ll bend to your every wish.

— “Please?” “Ugh, fine, whatever.”

— He also pretends he doesn’t enjoy the hug and kiss you give him when he agrees to go with you.

— So, the day to go watch Barbie arrives, and Scara shows up at the living room of your shared apartment dressed in all black, ripped jeans on and purple headphones wrapped around his neck.

— “Well? Let’s go watch that stupid movie.” He says, purposefully averting his gaze from your all-pink outfit (he’s totally jealous he won’t be the only one to see you while you look this gorgeous).

— “Not dressed like that, you aren’t.”

— And that is how you proceeded to dress the angry cat that is your boyfriend in a pink top with frilly sleeves. (Alas, you couldn’t get away with making him wear a skirt, but at least you managed to put his hair in pigtails and snap a picture before he ripped the pink hairties off).

— Honestly, Kuni secretly enjoys the movie and thinks weird barbie is neat, even if he won’t tell you about it (yes, you definitely were imagining it when you saw him shed tears at that one scene with Ruth and Barbie).

✧ XIAO

— “Two tickets to Barbie.” And it’s two people, one clad in pink from head to toe, the other in all black, combat boots, and a bunch of tattoos and piercings. He’s wearing a pink butterfly clip in his dark teal hair, though.

— Xiao can’t say no to you, even if he’s overwhelmed by all the people present at the cinema, and the loud atmosphere and bright colors of a crowd dressed in shades of rose are not really his thing.

— But you squeeze his hand reassuringly, your gaze meeting his sharp golden one with that smile he adores to see on your lips. He gets to be with you when you seem so happy, so carefree, and that’s more than he could have ever wished for.

— Your boyfriend might not be wearing the signature color of the doll starring in the film, but his cheeks have certainly taken a deep flushed tone when you hold onto his arm lovingly, your fingers softly running over the swirling patterns of his inked skin.

— Please, please, please, buy something sweet for him to eat while you two watch the movie :( sweet pop corn, pastries, candy… Xiao enjoys mild and sweet flavors, so if you surprise him with a treat like that, he’ll get so flustered and happy! Are you gonna miss out on such an adorable sight?

✧ VENTI

— He’s right in his element!

— Totally wears pink clothes, pink accessories, heart shaped sunglasses and pink makeup.

— If you’d let him, he’d definitely show up in something like his archon outfit, but pink, wings included (yeah, he’s a victoria’s secret angel and he knows it).

— Don’t let him bring the bottle of rosé wine he tried to sneak past you, though, please.

— His mischief aside, Venti is actually one of the best people to watch Barbie with. He’s fun, is invested in the plot, songs and outfits, he’s a comforting presence and is well versed in pop culture.

— The only con is you’re a tad bit jealous that he looks better in pink that you do. He’s certainly slaying in that outfit. Rest assured, though, Venti is not at all shy when compliments are due, so he’ll be sure to shower you with plenty, and he means every single one of them.

— Loves the movie and loves getting to experience it with you. Under his carefree and cheerful front, your lover is someone who really craves for tranquil moments like this, just you and him, spending time together doing something you enjoy… Venti wishes all days could be like this, as much as he likes partying and drinks.

✧ KAVEH

— Similar to Venti, he’s thriving, and maybe he’s even looking forward to this more than you are.

— Has his outfit and makeup thought up days, if not weeks, beforehand (and obviously he has sparkly pink clips to combine with his clothes, as the babygirl he is).

— Kaveh will offer to do your hair, makeup and to help you choose your clothes. And who are you to refuse? Not when you know he’s amazing at it, not when he’s giving you the most precious puppy eyes this world has seen.

— He won’t let you pay for the tickets or snacks either, no matter how much you insist. Your boyfriend has a hard time accepting kindness, especially from someone as special as you; he could never let you invite him or even let you pay for your part and manage to sleep peacefully at night.

— During the movie, he’s living. Takes mental note of the dresses and fits, all the barbie dream houses and every different design he spots. His kind gaze is wide and sparkling and you find yourself staring at your pretty boyfriend more than at the big screen. To see him so… free and untroubled… You wouldn’t trade that for the world.

✧ ALBEDO

— You think it’s seriously unfair how good pink suits him (let’s face it, Albedo is royalty and will be pretty in literally anything) but right now, he looks not unlike a Barbie himself (unfair).

— If he’s in one of his teasing moods, he’ll give you the half lidded eyes and the shit eating smirk when you’re very much not inconspicuously staring at him with your mouth agape.

— “You look stunning yourself, my dearest.” The blonde will whisper, leaning close to your jawline as he cups the back of your head, the lingering caress of his lips on the skin right below your ear making your knees almost buckle.

— Actually is very interested in the critical message the movie intends to portray, and has everything figured out right before it happens (you can totally tell by the way his cerulean eyes glint knowingly, his chin cradled between his fingers, rosy lips titled upwards).

— Naturally, as an artist, Albedo takes note of every design and the whole colorimetry presented through the scenes. Your boyfriend hopes, one day, he can capture you in every shade of vibrant rose and sunshine, even if he believes no paint on canvas will ever do you justice.

— Definitely thinks weird barbie is cool and feels a little guilty because he knows if he were to give a doll to Klee, it would run the risk of meeting that exact same fate (probably accidentally, due to his little sister’s eh… rowdy and adventurous nature).

✧ ARATAKI ITTO

— “Itto, repeat after me: no, you can’t rename our shared apartment the mojo dojo casa house.”

— Itto probably relates to Ken, except for the latter’s actions, because your partner thinks all women are queens and he’d never do what Ken did.

— You probably have to keep an eye on him, to prevent him from being too loud during the movie; he means well, but he’s excitable and can’t help but comment and laugh noisily.

— Just give him a soft kiss on the lips and he’ll be silent for the rest of the film, wink wink. (Don’t blame him if he can’t pay attention to it afterwards, though, he’s just too entranced by your smiling expression).

— Itto would protect Ruth with his life. He adores his grandma, and somehow, the elderly lady from the movie reminds him of her; so, afterwards, he might beg you to help him choose a nice tea set as a gift and to accompany him to visit his grandmother.

— He’s definitely the type to buy some commemorative souvenir: an “I am kenough” hoodie; Ken’s fur coat, Barbie’s car… or any trinket made for the occasion. He’s just like a kid on a candy store, he looks so happy you don’t have it in yourself to deny it to him, even if he ends up buying some overpriced and maybe useless trinket.

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 2

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC

Summary: Jake struggles to ask for your help.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI (no smut in this chapter but there will be in future ones), mentions of teen pregnancy, adult language, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Charlie, we need to talk. I need you…r help.”

“Name it,” you reply.

You meant it too. You could never repay him or his family for everything they did for you and your mom.

Starting with your mom. You had been conceived on prom night, shortly after Lisa turned 18. Your sperm donor was the town’s golden boy who denied you were his and took off for college without looking back. Her parents wanted her to ‘get rid of it’ and kicked her out when she refused.

With $700 in cash, a suitcase, and her car, she drove west with California on her mind. Life had other plans though; her car broke down in the middle of Texas. The heat mixed with lack of water and abundance of stress brought her to tears, but then Ruth pulled up with a matching pregnant belly of her own.

Ruth and Tom helped Lisa find a job, a place of her own, and made her a part of their family by the time you came along. They helped raise you too.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighs, rubbing his temples.

“You had to eject and then were in the hospital, right? What did the doctors say?” You prompt, sensing there’s more but allowing him to leave out what he isn’t ready to share.

“Yeah. They wanted to send me for rehab at Naval Hospital Camp Pendleton and I just…panicked and said I’d go home, not remembering that Ma and Dad are gone for another 2 weeks. I was fine with asking if you’d help me out with the physical therapy but this-“

“Will you stay with me and let me help you? There, I asked so you don’t have to,” you smile.

“That’d be great,” he laughs, squeezing your knee.

“Did you call your parents? Do they know?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’ll know they’ll turn right around if I did and you know how special this is for them.”

You nod. They were on a road trip, spreading some of Lisa’s ashes in the favorite places she and Ruth traveled to.

“Your mom is gonna tan your hide…and probably mine when she finds out you,” you sigh. “Did the doctor send your records? Orders? A plan of care?

“Yeah, in my bag,” he winces as he tries to sit up.

“I’ll get ‘em. What hurts? Leg? Shoulders?”

“Everything,” he sighs.

“Why don’t I get you in the tub and you can soak while I look at your records?”

“That sounds good.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

After feeding him and another round of NSAIDs, you hand him the crutches.

“The crutches are set too low,” you observe out loud.

“That doesn’t surprise me. I pretty much took them and ran.”

You shake your head.

“You’re a terrible patient,” you say as you guide him to sit at the edge of the tub.

“I know.”

“You better not pull that shit with me,” you tease as you kneel and begin to wrap the cast with plastic wrap.

“I won’t, I’ll be good for you.”

You gulp, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush rising to your cheeks.

“How’d you manage to get all the way here on a bum leg?”

“Rooster. He picked me up from the hospital, helped me pack, and then brought me to the airport. He sweet-talked TSA and they let him bring me all the way to the gate,” he laughs. “It got a little tricky when I landed but an older guy saw me struggling and brought my suitcase to the Uber. The driver took it out of the trunk when he dropped me off and was going to bring it to your porch but I insisted I was good. As you could see, I was not good.”

“No, you were not,” you agree, rising to help him stand and step into the tub. “Okay, now shirt off.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, pulling off his shirt and tossing it past you.

You can’t help but gasp at the deep bruising on each shoulder. “Oh, Jake.”

“It’s okay. So how…?” He trails off wondering how much of him you’re going to have to see.

“I’ll help you down if you can slip your shorts and underwear off like that?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

It’s a process but you do it and close the curtain to give him privacy and he drops his shorts out of the side.

“All set,” he says.

“Not a fan of underwear?” You tease.

“One less layer to try and pull on,” he replies.

You toss a washcloth over so he can cover up while you place a bath stool in next.

“It’s gonna be cold,” you warn once his leg is propped, turning the water on.

He hisses when the water touches him, but it warms quickly.

“A bath bomb? Really?” He asks as you drop one in.

“Yes, an Epsom salt bath bomb. Should help with the soreness.”

“Mmkay. Smells nice,” he sighs.

You leave to find the paperwork and turn the water off when you come back, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

“It looks like they want daily PT, a follow-up with orthopedics this week and…for you to see a counselor,” you say, reading the notes.

“Yeah, they think I have PTSD,” he says quietly behind the curtain.

“Okay well I can see if my counselor can take you on, she does virtual care. I will obviously take care of the PT, and I’ll ask Dr. Hayes if he’ll fit you in,” you say.

“I’m sure he’ll fit me in if you fit him in,” he mutters.

He almost sounds jealous.

“I’ve never ‘fit him in’. It was one date. He’s a great guy, it just…wasn’t right.”

He wasn’t right because he wasn’t Jake. Just like every other failed relationship.

“You see a counselor?” Jake asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I started after mom died, it’s helped a lot.”

“Good, yeah that’d be cool if she could see me. God this feels amazing. I don’t know the last time I took a bath.”

“Enjoy it. The hard work starts tomorrow.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You throw a load of laundry in and start on supper while he relaxes.

“Charlie? Can you help?” He calls from the bathroom, frustration lacing his tone.

“What’s up?” You ask from the doorway.

“Every time I raise my arms to wash my hair I start sliding down,” he sighs.

“Hand me the shampoo.”

The groan he lets out when you massage it into his scalp is downright sinful and sends a shot of arousal straight between your legs.

“That good, huh?” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush rising up your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement, and your eye catches the washcloth over his groin twitching.

“Sit up a little and I’ll get your back,” you tell him as you soap up your hands.

He obliges and his head drops forward with a heavy exhale as you wash his back.

“Feels good too,” he murmurs, sucking in a breath tensing when you get to his lower back, almost to the top of his butt.

“Sorry, does that hurt?”

“No, I’m uh…ticklish.”

“Your back is ticklish?”

“No, but my ass is,” he mutters, pink staining his cheeks.

“Interesting,” you laugh, scoffing when he gently splashes you. “I assume you can get the rest? Wouldn’t want to tickle you.”

He snatches the washcloth from your outstretched hand. “Yes. I got it.”

You laugh, closing the curtain to let him finish washing before handing him the detachable showerhead to rinse.

You manage to get him out of the shower with only one accidental view of his butt and no falls, but you’re just as wet as him now.

His eyes darken when he looks over your chest at the wet t-shirt clinging to your bra-less breasts.

“I’m uh…gonna go change. I’ll grab your clothes. Be right back!” You rush out as you close the door.

Your heart races as you pick some clothes out of his suitcase.

What is happening?

His phone is vibrating nonstop, so you bring it too.

“I’m decent,” he says when you knock.

“Here, I brought your phone too. It was buzzing like crazy.”

“Thanks, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Holler if you need me,” you say as you walk to your room, fanning yourself the whole way.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake ignores his erection as he unlocks his phone, realizing he forgot to let Bradshaw know he made it safely.

🐓: You make it okay?

🐓: Have you fallen and can’t get up?

🐓: ?

🐓: I’m about to text Charlie. Maybe I’ll ask her out too.

🐓: Dude. I’m actually starting to worry.

3 missed calls from 🐓.

Jake: Sorry man, I forgot. I’m exhausted.

Jake: Also, fuck off. Leave Charlie alone.

🐓: Glad you’re okay.

🐓: You finally gonna tell her how you feel?

Jake: I can’t. I can’t lose her if she doesn’t feel the same.

🐓: Pretty sure she does. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.

Jake: I don’t know…I just don’t know. Where would I even start?

🐓: Tell her how you called her name when you were about to die. Chicks dig sappy shit like that.

Jake: 🤦🏼‍♂️ and you wonder why you’re single.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: Got a little bit of their families histories and why they’re so close. The tension is starting to rise ☺️

Let me know whatcha think!

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

[crazybiaatch]

I'm just gonna put some of my npmd hcs out into the world bc I have been thinking abt this musical all week and if I don’t talk abt it i Will Explode

Peter Spankoffsi

Polish Jew - ethnic, non practising.

Parents aren't around (travel/dead/lost custody) so he lives with Ted, he was originally living in Clivesdale and was shocked by the Clivesdale hate.

Moved to Hatchetfeild in the 4th grade and was immediately bullied by Max for being from Clivesdale

Had an emo phase

Ted and Paul set up playdates with Richie, Pete, and Alice so they could bond

Ruth Flemming

Lives with her autistic dad

Dad is touch adverse, Ruth's love language is touch. This is why she is so desperate to be touched.

Wannabe Discord Kitten

Plays COD - bullies everyone for sucking at it

Scarily good at English (it's the knowledge from the play)

Richie Lipschitz

ME

He was actually the "I have the power of God and Anime on my side" kid

only listens to Ops/Eds/Osts/J-Pop and Midwest emo music

If he wasn't already being bullied so severely, he would be a full blown emo

Grace Chastity

Baptist

Her parents didn't let her attend sex ed but she already knew everything from finding wattpad as a child

HATES Wattpad when we see her in the show

yknow those people who rant and rave about ao3 being full of cp and r/pe and all those other things? yeah that's her

runs a modesty outfit inspo insta account

She does actually mean well at the beginning of the show. The end is more complicated.

Max Jagerman

transmasc

WAIT GUYS DONT LEAVE IT MAKES SENSE

hypermasculine to reach his dads expectations

youngest brother (older sister at the least - also middle child brother but I'm not as sure on that)

poor

was scared of Coraline as a kid

If he was Australian he would literally just Be A Guy down here

100% makes Jagermeister jokes

Stephine Lauter

half black (duh)

CHUB

army

runs a very popular edit account

when her dad took her phone, her fans held a wake for her

horrible driver with way too much confidence

ofmd fan

was once a child on roblox scamming people for their robux

is now an adult on roblox taking dress to impress way too seriously

has written fanfiction

BONUS

Kyle is secretly a complete and utter geek and only became comfortable being geeky after Max's disappearance, he was also the only one on the team to actually mourn him when they found out he'd died (also offcier Bailey's son)

[miidnighters]

It's my birthday ! To celebrate, I wanted to put together a little shout out of people I love because it's the most surefire way to get compliments back in return (I'm kidding!). Thankyou so much for writing with me and mashing our barbies together and making this hellsite such a fun place to be.

Also, seeing how this has changed from my last shoutout at Christmastime - notably, the people I tagged as "people I love who I don't write with very much" but who now I write with or talk to every day lmao.

Please let this have tagged everyone I wanted to tag

@92328

I love u so much. U know I do. I love all the random questions u ask and ur request for Isaac Facts and the fact that you refer to Morgan as "Nora's Husband" and the way you wanna lock Flynn up in a tower to keep him a baby forever. Never change lmao.

@bloodykneestm

Bender ur characters are chefs kiss and our dynamics are chefs kiss and I get such a huge smile whenever I see u in my notifs (either here or on disco). I love the things we come up with together.

@cigarettesandcoffee

My darling! I know you're not writing a lot atm but it makes my day whenever we chat and whenever you pop up with some random love. All of our pairings are so good and I can't wait to see what we cook up for the others.

@draconisa

I know you're ALSO not writing a lot atm but Dany and Isaac have my whole heart plus everything that we're doing on the multi for everyone there like. My brain is still stuck on Harts and Vasile like. Does it get any better?

@epistrefei

HELLO. ARTEMIS. WOW. I am so in awe of the original spin you're able to put on such a well-known character - and it's not just Artemis and Billie, it's Barty and Flynn, and watching what you do with Zahrosa and so many others.

@exquisitexagony

Sami is my baby. The relationship they have with Flynn and Bella (or Bella and Arthur) and all the others is so special to me, as well as everything we have going on your other blogs (Callie and Shimi, for example? Yes).

@fangmother

Rainer is who I want to be when I grow up. If I could be half as confident and gave less fucks. I love seeing all the wild shit she gets up to and following her different relationships with people who have been in her life for varying lengths of time.

@freekzout

What can I say about the freekz? Callie and Funke's relationship is so special to me BUT also the friendships we've built? Lu and Ruth? Flynn and Ruth? Bella and the both of them? Not to mention your other blogs - Bella and Connie in particular.

@inrovina

Every relationship my characters have with Xeno is SO special. Flynn and Lake are SO special. I'm so excited for what other shenanigans they get up to and all the potential new stuff we're doing on your multi !

@kurjaks

I need to put this man in an enclosure and study him. I love him so much, and I love the careful way you've crafted him, and the truly unique way he carries and conducts himself. PLUS the way we chat ooc? Peak.

@mystiika

Every one of your muses is a darling to me. We've started creating such interesting relationships between a few of our muses in varying stages of romance or friendship and I cannot wait to do more with you.

@recitedemise

Every time I see you in my notifs I know I am getting fed the Good Shit. You have such a way with words and what we've crafted between Gale and Callie is really something special to me. Plus to varying relationships w Harts and Bella? Yes.

@sorrowsick

There is no muse of yours that I don't love down bad. We have some truly batshit stuff going on and I know that I can always come to you with the wildest ideas and we can make it work. I am truly your biggest fan.

@soulmissed

August is the only child character I write with and I think that says something bc it's hard to write a child without them being too much of a caricature and it's hard to build relationships without them being one-note but you so it SO well, so we have such beautiful ties.

@starlyht

One of the true lights of my life I adore seeing u on my dash and in my notifs. We have some great ties between our characters and I truly love seeing your thoughts on lycanthropy or drow society or whatever takes your fancy.

@stcllata

I love that every pairing we toss together just seems to Work lmao. Whatever the situation, whoever the muse, we can always put them together and come out with something good. And by good I often mean shippy but like. Who's gonna tell us no?

@tewwor

I am so in awe of your mind and your worldbuilding, and I am so lucky to be able to play in these spaces you've built. I love the relationships we've built and I love that we can throw different characters together to see what sticks.

@vitalphenomena

I say this with the UTMOST affection but this is the most messed up roster of characters I've ever seen and I adore writing with them. I adore exploring all the different facets of their characters and how my characters interact with their struggles bc they're NOT perfect.

@whileurmine

If I see a man over 30 on my dash, odds are it's you. I love your roster and I love our OOC hate sessions and I love that we can both puck up and put down starters like nothing. Whether it's something established or a new idea we can always put a pair together.

@yxkanna

I know you're ALSO not writing atm but I have to let you know how much I love you and your babies. Not just Nick but all of them. We have some really interesting dynamics both platinic and romantic and I can't wait until you're back to pick them up.

And then of course some other shoutouts of people I don't love any less but perhaps don't write with or talk to as often <3 (which should change, honestly. Come yap w me <3)

@abysswarden | @berylcluster | @bucketkicked | @byanyan

@coastercrushed | @corsey | @cragsnow | @demonstigma

@downspirals | @fvzzyelf | @godstrayed | @hegrudges

@idnull | @kxllerblond | @lcngdays | @nabaidhean-neonach

@platiinums | @pohlepen | @redemnation | @strszyga

@withbeasts | @xinxiins

[crimsonxcloverr]

dale kobble x reader.

content warning: fluff, slightly annoyed dale, mental health issues/reader having a bad day, poor eating patterns, casual intimacy, mentions of blood from minor injury, playful banter.

word count: 2197

a/n: i tried to keep dale in character the best i could! we also deserve to be comforted by our favorite old man. enjoy!

TENDER LOVING CARE

ruth helps you up and tells you to go back inside as you sniffle. you wipe your tears with the back of your hand and let out a soft sob. you were already having a rough morning, it was just one of those days, but now your favorite jeans you thrifted were completely soaked and they were ripped on the knees. as you walk inside, dale can hear your sobs from downstairs.

“jesus christ,” he sighs running his fingers through his hair. “what now?” he hollers from the basement, his voice filled with a hint of annoyance.

there was no response which annoys him even more.

he was in a time crunch and needed to get this doll finished. he goes to get up and his annoyed demeanor softens as he sees the emotional state you’re in and your scuffed knees.

“oh, little angel,” he coos softly as he gets up and makes his way to you. he wraps his arms around you and squeezes the daylights out of you, your soft sobs muffled in his chest. “why don’t we go upstairs and get you cleaned up? hm? come on.”

he takes your hand in his and guides you up the basement steps, your knees throbbing and burning.

“take off your jeans so i can get a better look, my angel. i don’t wanna ruin your jeans any further,” he suggests while removing the clutter off the counter.

“it’s not like i’ll wear them after this,” you reply with attitude as you hop on the counter, dale completing ignoring you as he hums a tune while searching for some bandaids in the bathroom.

you knew he’d fix your jeans for you. you were just having a rough day.

you listen as he rummages through the medicine cabinet and comes back to the kitchen with some ointment and a couple of knee bandages.

“where’s the hydrogen peroxide?” you ask softly as he washes his hands, his back facing you.

he turns to face you again. “it’s not good for your skin. ruth told me. hold still so i can see,” he whispers.

his slender fingers delicately grip both of your legs, his eyes carefully looking for any gravel he needs to pick off before fixing you up. you can’t help but stare at him, your heart swelling at how attentive he is. you push the hair that’s dangling in his face behind his ears and you let out a soft chuckle as he looks at you from under his brows.

“no pesky stones, but i need to clean you up,” he says softly, grabbing a few paper towels and saturating them in soap and water. “might burn so hold still…”

he carefully pats your tender skin as you sit there sucking air between your teeth trying to deal with the stinging sensation. you grip his robe and he can’t help but smile. he continues to wipe up the dry blood and the plasma that oozes from your scrapes.

“i know, i know, baby, just relax,” he tells you, his voice soft and caring. he pats you dry and applies some ointment to his finger, gently rubbing it on the now clean wounds. “see? wasn’t too bad?”

you sit there silently for a second looking down at your knees, your fingers pressing the bandaids gently to make sure they were on securely. as dale cleaned up the mess and put things back the way they were, you make your way to the basement. you didn’t even bother putting pants back on, you just wanted to lay down at this point. you pull the blankets back off the mattress and lay down, pulling the blankets back over your head. you close your eyes and try to take a nap but you can’t help but feel dale’s eyes burning through you. a smile forms on your face as you hear his slippers dragging across the floor, his weight shifting the mattress a little.

“what?” you ask trying to hide the smile on your face, trying to keep him from pulling the blankets off you.

“oh come on, stop acting like a little brat,” he chuckles, moving the blankets off you, his body weight pressing you into the mattress.

he lays there on top of you, your face cradled in his hands. he lets out a soft hum and stares at you, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“my poor angel, having such a rough day,” he sighs softly before kissing your nose. he really needed to get that damn doll done, but he knows you’re having a rough day. “anything i can do to help?” he watches you give him a shrug, your smile fading. “hm… how about we do something? we can… listen to music? or we can just lay here and talk?”

“no. i’m fine.” you roll over and he frowns. “i don’t wanna do anything today.”

“not even go thrifting? or out for lunch?” he smirks trying to persuade you into getting up and moving around. “have you eaten anything today?” he kisses your cheek gently.

“i’m not hungry,” you mumble into the blanket. “besides, don’t you have the doll to finish?”

“yes, but that can wait.”

you both knew he’d regret it later, but his main concern was you.

“i’m gonna go run you a nice warm bath then i’ll make us both lunch and some hot coco, with those marshmallows you like, hm? how’s that?” he whispers in your ear before giving your cheek another soft kiss.

“okay,” you chuckle as you finally give in.

moments pass and you’re brushing your hair in the bathroom as dale sits on the ledge of the tub checking the temperature of the water. he looks up at you and sighs noticing you’re spacing out. his heart aches for you, wanting nothing more than to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

“you ready? i’ll turn away if you need,” he says softly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable knowing you’re in a vulnerable state.

“no, it’s okay,” you sigh really not wanting to do anything but to lay down. it all felt like a chore.

dale notices your behavior and sits on the lid of the toilet, his hands gently undressing you and making sure not to accidentally bump your scrapes. he tosses your dirty clothes in the hamper and watches you carefully lower yourself in the warm bubble bath.

“mm,” you hum softly, the warm water soothing you already.

“perfect?” dale asks as he lowers himself next to you outside the tub. he smiles when you nod and he grabs an old plastic cup nearby. “put your head back, baby. let me take care of you.”

you do as he says and he begins to wash your hair, his slender fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp. he chuckles at your reaction, loving the way you’re practically falling asleep to his touch. he rinses your hair and continues to pamper you, your body exhausted from all the emotional stress. he moves onto washing your body carefully, trying his best to help you relax. he rinses you off once more and sets the cup down.

“i’m gonna go get towels, you finish washing up,” he says softly while standing. “i’ll be right back.”

you finish up and stand there, dale appearing in the bathroom with fresh towels. he holds one out for you and you get out, dale so kindly wrapping it around you.

“you want this one for your hair?” he asks. he acknowledges your answer with a nod when you shake your head no. “let’s get you dressed.”

he pulls out a pair of underwear from your pile of clothes and grabs a teal t-shirt from his drawer. he hands you the clothes and cups your face in his hands when he sees tears in your eyes.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers softly brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “you’re gonna be okay, alright? i’m here, ruth is here too, you’re safe. it’ll be okay, my little angel. okay?” he gives you a few gentle kisses on the lips and pulls away. “i’m gonna make us some lunch and then get that hot coco started. why don’t you get dressed then pick out some music?”

you nod and sniffle, wiping your tears and watch as he goes upstairs to tend to lunch and the hot chocolate. you get dressed and flip through some of his albums after brushing your hair. you don’t find anything assuming at the moment so you just turn on his stereo, the station you picked playing some classic rock. after a while dale comes down with two plates of food, a smile on your face when you noticed what he made you.

“it’s your favorite,” he smiles. “go on, sit, sit.”

“okay, okay,” you laugh as you sit down on the mattress, dale leaning over to put the plates down. “wait!” you grab his wrist to keep him from going upstairs. “thank you.”

“oh, it’s not a problem. you know that.”

he ruffles your hair playfully and descends back upstairs. he comes down and plops down in front of you, opening your can of soda. he takes a sip and you let out a scoff while grabbing your can.

“sorry, had to see if it was poisoned,” he teases.

“let me check yours then, you jerk,” you laugh loudly as you lean over and grab his, dale quickly snatching it back.

“nope, sorry. you have your own,” he chuckles at the banter between you both. he leans forward and gives you a few smooches. “eat,” he whispers against your lips, his tone authoritative.

you can’t help but smile at him and the way he’s so protective over you. you start chowing down, dale watching you as he eats his own meal. it was the first thing you had all day so it was quite nice.

“i worry about you, you know that? you need to start taking care of yourself, and im not kidding,” his voice was filled with seriousness.

“yes, i know,” you sigh. “it’s just one of those days and i don’t know why, i just-“

“it’s okay not to know why, baby, but that doesn’t mean you need to be mean to yourself.” he grabs your hand and kisses it. “i love you, little angel. promise me you’ll be nicer to yourself.”

the seriousness in his voice and the look in his eye makes you melt. this man loved you to pieces and just wanted to take care of you.

“okay, i promise,” you say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “but you need to promise me the same. i’m tired of seeing you drained because of these damn dolls.”

“okay, deal. but i do need to finish it,” he chuckles as he finishes his meal. “done?” he asks when he sees your nearly finished.

“mhmhmm, i don’t want this.” you hand him the last piece of your food and he looks at you as you feed him.

“mmm, yummy,” he teases and gives you a wink.

after sipping hot chocolate and talking for a little bit on how you were feeling, dale gives you some space to journal and relax as he finishes his doll. you look up at him, his back and broad shoulders facing you. he was so kind and gentle with you today, it definitely helped you. you get up and set your journal aside, quietly walking up behind him. dale was focusing intently on his work until your hands covered his eyes, the sudden action catching him by surprise. he lets out a small huff and a chuckle when he realizes you’re being silly.

“now what do you think you’re doing back there, little angel?” he placed his paint brush down and grabs your wrists to pull your hands away. “so nosy, you just couldn’t let me work in peace?”

“nope,” you giggle adding to the playful banter as he pulls you onto his lap, his large arms wrapping around you.

“mmm,” he smiles, squeezing you tightly in a jokingly manner, causing you to grunt softly. “my sweet angel, all mine…”

“mmfp, okay,” you laugh trying to escape his grasp. he loosens up and looks at you as you sit there straddling him. “thank you for taking care of me today. i appreciate it.”

“oh, baby… you’re absolutely welcome,” he whispers rubbing the small of your back. “everyone needs a little tlc, right?”

“maybe one day i can pamper you?” you suggest, dale’s brows going up with a smirk. “i’m being serious, kobble,” you laugh and nudge him.

“i know, im just picking.” his smirk fades and he lets out a sigh. “i really do need to get this done.”

“okay, so finish it, no one’s stopping you.” your tone was filled with sass and dale couldn’t help but shake his head at how much of a handful you were being.

“alright,” he sighs pushing the chair in with you still on his lap. “you needy little thing.”

you sit there with a satisfied expression while playing with his hair, dale working diligently on his doll the best he could.

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[anotherdragon]

you know, I was thinking earlier.

At first I was thinking about how desensitized the residents of Hatchetfield are to death and dissapearances. Grace said it herself: "This is Hatchetfield. People Go missing every day!" And you see it, too: how Max going missing and Richies death almost seems like an afterthought; and its played off as a joke, as 'oh haha look they care more about some football game than a kid going missing' but it really gets sadder if you think about it? Like imagine knowing that any day you or a family member or one of your closest friends could go missing at any time, and just needing to...except that. And it would explain Pete's admittedly little to no reaction to Richie and Ruth's deaths, while he still might be upset over it, he came to terms with that possibility years ago. everyone did. always at the back of each residents mind, that today it was a stranger, a name you wouldn't even remember an hour from now, but tomorow? It could be you. It could be someone you love.

And then i got thinking a bit more: we see a lot of shit like this throughout Hatchetfield (while its probably for the sake of keeping the episodes seperate, im pretty sure nmt2 all takes place in the same timeline, and like. Thirty people are mentioned to have died in Killer Track??? The honey queens go missing every year[well, leave town the day they went missing and never contact anyone in hatchetfield ever again but you have to admit thats suspicious] People just. going missing at Abstinence Camp and no one looking into it???) but all that aside. What I cant wrap my head around is 'Hatchet Town'. the entire song is about the citizens of hatchetfield getting paranoid and pointing fingers and in general getting aggressive over the murder of two teens. But??? 'By Best Of You' everyones just. stopped caring. Shapiro can be explained away a bit by her seeing Max, but with the killing of three teenagers, the mayors secretary and the 'disappearance' of the mayor any normal school would probably. Cancel homecoming. (I could probably also go into a whole thing about how the specific way richie was killed and the MESSAGE WRITTEN IN HIS BLOOD point towards the killer being a student. which you would really think would lead to the canceling of an event like this). And they just??? Decide to still hold the event??? (which is even funnier knowing that ANOTHER STUDENT GETS KILLED AT HOMECOMING)

So uh. Not even sure what the point of this post is anymore. I refuted my own post and then refuted that. Now im just confused. What The Fuck Is Going On In Hatchetfield. Why did all the residents of hatchetfield fucking swing to the other extreme for three minutes and fourty seconds. huh.