#affordable laundry soap

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

I'm so sorry to ask cuz I know a lot of people are in need rn but literally $5 would make my life a lot easier!

🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

Hi! Are you a financially secure adult who'd like to help a physically disabled dyke living under the poverty line buy groceries? i'd be really grateful for any help at all!!

🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

a walmart card would be most helpful!! they can be sent anonymously (or not) and start at $5. (my email is thatdiabolicalfeminist at gmail dot com) i also have a food and necessities wishIist if you'd rather help that way (currently my most urgent needs are for the hibiclens, fiber bars & tp!)

🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

thanks for tolerating this on yr dash!!

🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

[dropsnectar]

When a Fox is Bored...

M!Kitsune x gn!reader

NSFW

A Kitsune who recently inherited a new territory, of which your house is smack in the middle of. 

As an easily bored spirit, he finds the thought of pranking you hilarious. He starts out with small things, moving your cereal bowl in the morning, replacing dish washing detergent with dish soap. He laughs quietly to himself as he watches you search for what should have been obviously in front of you, eyebrows furrowed, and confusion fueling his quiet laughter. He watched you run around in horror, trying to scoops bubbles into water buckets. Something about your confusion and panic satisfied him. 

He made a habit of visiting you and making something go wrong. But after the fifth prank, something changed. You laughed at how your water bottle, once filled with water, was now orange juice. Your missing backpack, instead of being on the table, under your bed. You cleaned the place up, reducing clutter. You kept your bags close, and hummed to yourself as you searched about, peaceful. This picked at something in him. Your worried expression had been his after all. He upped the ante.

He messed with your washing machine. That prank took a while, since as a spirit of nature, tech was foreign to him. Filled with pride expecting your eyes to go big and your lips purse for him, all you did was roll your eyes and take your clothes and laundry detergent to the bathroom. You turned on a little play on your little black rock, and filled the tub with water soap and clothes. Then you got to work, stomping like you were pressing grapes for wine. Despite the distraction of the “phone”, your face was still crinkled in effort, sweat drifting down your brow. He liked this expression. Maybe this too was a prank well done.

At some point, you had started making double helpings for dinner. In the past, meals of ramen and grocery potatoes salad had turned into steaks, chicken and pasta. 

You would pour two glasses of wine and put out a plate and a glass on the old stump by the back door. Curious, the kitsune would eat up, soon enamored with your cooking.

About time! It was only right of you to give him offerings. You were in his territory after all. In the mornings you would collect the dishes, and the cycle would continue.

Of course, this didn't mean he would stop his favorite source of entertainment. Far from it. He'd replace your coffee maker with one of a differing model. He'd leave piles of fruit by the door, savoring your surprised reaction as you looked around, not noticing the small form he had taken behind the door. He learned your preferences, your schedule, even your sorrows as you poured over a hastily scrawled budget that just wouldn't add up the way it should. 

He had to admit sometimes his pranks grew even farther then he meant to. You had dressed up to the 9s for a much needed job interview, with a man whose soul was so gray he could see it through the phone. You had gotten in your old, rusty car, only for it to get hit by a huge black Denali, five minutes from your house.

Out stepped a gentle older man in a weathered cardigan. The old man listened to you cry, as you waved about a dead phone, and explained how you couldn't afford this. You had missed the job interview you so desperately needed.

 This was the part that bewildered the kitsune. He wasn't sure if it was his own magic or yours, but the older man offered you a job on the spot, twice the salary you were looking for. The old man's aura was a gentle green. This satisfied the kitsune. This man would take care of his favorite victim.

His heart filled with satisfaction at how you bounced and garbled out thank yous. He didn't fail to notice that dinner that night came with a whole tray of brownies. You made him cupcakes when you got the huge insurance check in the mail. 

After dinner, he was surveying you as you watched “Net-fix”, something about a mute woman rescuing a lake monster, when you turned the TV off and headed upstairs. 

This intrigued the kitsune, as you usually watched television for another hour before passing out. 

You took off your pants and crawled into bed. The room was quiet except for your breathy moans as you pleasured yourself, one hand working yourself up under your underwear.

The smell that filled the room was mouthwatering. And the way you mewled out made the kitsune feral. He was on you in a few minutes, transforming from his invisible form to his most majestic one. He leaned over you, eyes red and hungry, as he pinned your free hand over your head and licked his lips.

“Its you.” You whispered, voice light and merry. It was like it had been a long grey winter and the sun had finally decided to come out. It was an expression he had never collected from you and it made his heart heavy.

“I knew you were here. Thank you. For everything.”

He stared at you, now full of apprehension. But a peice of him was still so full of joy that you recognized him. That you saw him and wanted him with you now.

“You have been my playtoy. I have made your life difficult more times than I have lightened it.”

“You kept me on my toes” you laughed out, tone innocent. “But I know how to deal with boys who tug my pigtails. And you haven't tugged on them in a long time.” You reached your other hand forward and brought it to his cheek. It was a gentle gesture of affection, but it did not have the soothing effect you intended. 

Your hand smelled so full of your core it drove him insane, dick throbing and hard under his robes. He took your hand and brought it to his mouth, swallowing down any residue that had been left on your fingers. The face you made was adorable, how your eyes glowed and the ghost of your tongue peaked out from your lips. He was going to collect so many faces from you tonight, and they would all be his. YOU would be his.

He discarded his robes and your underwear with magic, a tidy pile on the chair next to the bed. Then, he was on you, mouth nibbling your neck, biting you collarbone, before licking at the marks he had made. He rutted his hips against you for relief as he claimed your mouth, your tongue swirling around his. Your hands grasped hard to his back, nails scratching. It was your way of claiming him too, of this he was sure, and it was just too damn cute.

He dragged himself around your entrance, laughing and saying he wouldn't enter you until you begged him for it. You pouted at him and huffed, but eventually gave in, asking him to fill you. He did so with one hard thrust causing you to cry out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

He kept a quick pace. Your eyes were glazed, your core molten hot as he hit every little spot inside you that would bring you closer to release. You tried to hide it at first, hands covering your mouth but your eyes gave it away. He let you conceal yourself for all of five minutes before he had both your hands pinned above your head, his thrusts jutting at an unforgiving pace inside you. 

He was feral. THERE it was! That was the face he had wanted, the expression he had wanted to capture from you since the very beginning. Your panting, your eyes glazed over, mouth open in a silent plea, THAT'S what he wanted all along. And it was his! You were his now. The realization, the feeling of you, and the way you cried and clenched around him in release was what finally sent him over the edge. Against all odds you came together, riding out your ecstasy with sighing breaths. 

His mind was hazy with afterglow as he pulled you into his arms, large fluffy tails wrapping around your legs, arms, even one teasing at your face, a tickle. You laughed and kissed the fluff before turning over and kissing his nose, eyes bright. You were sated and happy. 

“Could we maybe, make a habit of this?”

He grinned at you. Every single feature of him was dripping with mischief when he replied.

“You think I'm satisfied with just this? There's so much more I have planned for you, you silly thing. Be prepared, got it?”

Part Two-ish

[ohmygraves]

the first time you and ghost became roommates, he didn't have a lot of things.

he had his essentials, packed in a duffel bag and like, two moving boxes and that's it. he didn't even have his own furniture or pots and pans, so the two of you didn't cook for the first few weeks living together. he seems perfectly content with just living with the furniture that came with the apartment, an old beat up sofa and dirty stained dining table, together with a few chairs and old mattresses in each bedroom. you made it a goal to get rid of the smelly bed as soon as possible, working your arse off to afford new beds for the sake of your back.

ghost, or well, simon, don't feel the need to own too many things. he thinks it's a nuisance, since well it'll be tiring to pack so many things when he needs to move again for some reason or another. even when he stayed in the barracks, his room was always the most bare out of everyone.

you were the opposite, of course. you liked having lots of personal items and memorabilia, or just trinkets that you like in general. your shared flat is full of your items, posters hung up on the wall, framed pictures, potted plants, consoles and books, whatever you have. it felt like the place was only occupied by you, and with how often simon was away on deployments and missions, it might as well be.

you both split duties when he's around. you cook, he does dishes. you take out the trash, he cleans the bathroom. you tidy things up and he'd mop/vacuum it. he insisted that you cook since he's not much of a cook himself (which, explains why he doesn't have a single kitchen utensils in his stuff) and that you're better at cooking than him. he'd gladly deal with all the dirty jobs for you, wouldn't be the worst thing he did anyway.

you and simon get groceries separately (his "groceries" consisting of some type of booze and maybe toiletries, perhaps some snacks if he's feeling fancy), but very rarely you go together with him to tesco or something. you always have to remind him to note whatever things needed to be replaced at your shared flat, so that you don't have to go multiple times just to get a bottle of dish soap or toilet paper.

you two bicker like an old married couple sometimes, because he's a smart ass and would tease you, and you'd get mad at him for eating your things or using your soap/shampoo.

sometimes you wondered if rooming with simon was a bad idea, but he had always made sure to keep your job easy for you except for a few minor inconveniences he did on purpose just so you'd scold him. he helped move furniture and do the heavy jobs for you, and not to mention he leaves you alone, never nosy or get too friendly with you. although at the same time, he expected you to do the same for him.

if he tells you when he's coming back after missions, you'd get him a treat when he gets home, some beer already chilling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks on the counter, together with his favorite takeout dinner (of course, you'd ask for the money back. you're not made of money if you're rooming with someone). some snarky note like "shower first before you sleep, stinky" or "it's 30 pounds for everything, you're welcome".

simon didn't think much of it, but he definitely took you for granted. you're a nice roommate, you two get along, and you're a great cook. you made sure to feed him whenever possible (because you're convinced he'd actually forget to eat when he's alone, considering his groceries as mentioned before), and not to mention you made his masks and balaclava smell nice and clean when you do laundry.

you'd patiently help him sew, teach him how to mend his clothes when he has the time (which is still a funny sight seeing how small the needles looked between his thick massive fingers). he always gets frustrated, telling you that you did a much better job than his lousy stitches that wouldn't even hold up after one wear. you'd sew all tears and holes on his masks and clothes, patch the holes up when you could.

in return, he'd bring some of your favorite snacks home. he always said something along the lines that it was on sale, or that it's buy one get one free, but you noted that he always brought home your favorite things after you mended his clothes, or helped him in some way. you didn't mind, you liked the snacks and it's nice that he shows his gratitude in this way.

you try to ignore the thumping of your heart every time he hands you things while saying "reckon you'd like this."

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere roommate who is just nasty.

!Nsfw themes in this one!MDI!

Yandere roommate who desperately wants all of your attention. Good or bad, it doesn't matter to him.

You're always on the edge of snapping at him. He leaves dirty dishes out, empty cans and his clothing everywhere in your apartment. He even leaves stuff in your room! You have no idea what he could be doing in there anyways...

Yandere roommate hangs around you no matter what you do if you're home. He hovers over you as you cook, sits by you when you watch something on the TV, and he always seems to conveniently be walking in the hallway whenever you were using the restroom. He was big on physical contact too. He would let his hands wander down to your hips or thighs, and you would have to silently pull away from his touch.

Yandere roommate loves it when you so much as look at him. Shivers run up his spine whenever you yell at him for how he never cleans, or to give you some space. He's not actually lazy or messy, he just wants you to seek him out for once.

Yandere roommate who likes to sneak his cum into your shampoo, lotions, and soaps. He get's a rush knowing that at any point of any day, you'll be covered in something of his. He's even worse when it comes to food. You don't trust him to cook for you very often. There's always something off with the way his dishes taste, but you don't want to be rude. He always seems so excited to see you choke down the all too salty meal.

Yandere roommate who's so shameless about stealing your underwear. He claims that it's a mix up from the laundry room, but you know for a fact he doesn't wash his clothing often enough to justify how many times you've found your intimates, both clean and unused, in his possession.

He's just so gross, but he pays more than you do on the lease, and you're too broke to afford to move anywhere nearly as nice. You wish you could get rid of him every time you catch him spying on you while changing, or every time you watch him get hard while you yell at him about dishes.

He's getting worse, too. Last week he actually grabbed a handful of your ass in passing, and you glanced at his phone while it was open to find several photos of your sleeping face.

Yandere roommate always has a lame excuse for everything, and you wished you were in any other position where you weren't forced to buy them.

[3liza]

here's what I've learned to never pay full price for, because people are giving these items away for free or almost free on Craigslist, Nextdoor, Facebook, at Goodwill, and on eBay (which has a local pickup section) in every sufficiently populated location in the USA.

cost of acquiring these items ranges from "carrying it home from the sidewalk" to "getting a friend with a car to help you pick it up" which is the same amount of effort as going to IKEA for worse quality that costs more, with the notable exception of it being a pain in the ass to coordinate with craigslist sellers, and you often have to wait and watch for what you want to actually show up. it took me about a year to find an acceptable gamer chair left out on the sidewalk, for example. but they cost $100+ new, so I chose to wait.

a lot of this stuff is the kind of thing you don't necessarily intend to keep, just to use in transitional housing or until you can afford a better one.

1. printers of any kind. basic office inkjets are free. ink is easily refillable or has generic ink cartridges way cheaper than brand name for any inkjet up to about 2015, not sure how difficult the newer smart printers are to hack but there's no reason to own a newer one because printing technology has not improved since about 2005. you want a color laser for making zines and wheatpastes? it's on Craigslist RN and someone's mom is desperate to get rid of it

2. bedframes

3. desks

4. tables

5. chairs

6. bookshelves, nice oak bookshelves that don't bend like al dente spaghetti when you put books on them, are rotting on sidewalks rn because they didn't fit in someone's house. go get them

7. scanners. I find a working scanner by a dumpster at least once a quarter, and I don't pick them up because I already have one that I picked up from a dumpster years ago

8. hot tubs. everyone thinks they want a hot tub and that the maintenance and upkeep will be worth it, and they are wrong. Craigslist.

9. sofas, with the caveat that if you are in a bedbug region like New York State you need to be very confident in your bedbug screening skills

10. quality leather shoes. these last forever and are expensive new. eBay is best for these

11. plates, glassware, silverware. all of these are able to be sterilized to whatever standard you feel comfortable with but if you eat in restaurants you've already put a fork in your mouth that hundreds of people have drooled on so try not to fool yourself

12. televisions and computer monitors

13. houseplants. similar to the bedbug warning above, you need to screen these for pests like fungus gnats and mealybugs

14. dressers, wardrobes, china hutches, cabinets, chests of drawers, etc

15. mirrors

16. clothes hangers

17. moving boxes

18. mattresses to a certain extent. I don't like secondhand used mattresses but unstained, unused mattresses are surprisingly common, especially since the foam mail order mattress boom started and people keep getting told by the mattress companies to just get rid of/keep any mattresses they want to return for flaws or wrong sizes or whatever. bedbug warning on this obviously

19. sheets and towels. you gotta launder them obviously

20. basic clothing, especially for kids. normie type clothing is so numerous people often just throw them away because they can't get anyone to take them

21. kitchenware like cooking utensils and pots n pans. don't use chipped or scratched Teflon/nonstick if you can help it. everyone needs one basic steel chef knife, which can be sharpened and maintained indefinitely. people throw these away CONSTANTLY

22. household consumables like laundry soap and dish soap. people often accidentally buy the wrong brand, scent, or develop allergies and want to get rid of extra

23. pet supplies like collars, leashes, dog crates, litter boxes, litter itself, dog beds, toys, carriers, etc

24. medical equipment of all kinds. people who take care of all kinds of patients end up with tons of leftover, sealed, miscellaneous stuff when that person recovers or dies, and they often give it away. adult diapers, hospital beds, IV stands, crutches, walkers, wheelchairs, fracture boots and splints, knee braces, canes, catheter packs, ice packs, heat packs, sterile paper sheeting, gauze, slings, over-the-door stretching and rehab pulleys, mattress protectors, etc

25. washers and dryers, both the basic household cube type and the small twin tub or rock tumbler type. people upgrade these when the old ones are still working, just squeaky or a little weird or sometimes just old

26. vacuum cleaners. secondhand ones are sort of icky but you can get rid of the ickiness by wiping them down with a rag and isopropyl alcohol inside and out. use an exacto or utility knife to slice off the hair and string wrapped around the roller. buy a new filter on Amazon. people throw away vacuums that work perfectly all the time because they don't actually know how to clean them out or do maintenance. bedbug and pet hair warning obviously

27. microwaves

28. refrigerators

30. lamps

31. any kind of exercise equipment including stationary bikes, ellipticals and weights/weight benches

32. any kind of piano. there's a grand on my local Craigslist for free rn

33. scrap wood and lumber

34. pallets

35. wood shipping crates

36. newborn, toddler and baby equipment like breast milk pumps and storage, bottles, bottle racks, diapers, etc. anything a little guy will grow out of fast will end up being given away

37. air conditioners, humidifiers and dehumidifiers. these will be most numerous during their respective off seasons

list updated 2/13/24 based on recent Craigslist trawling

38. jars, both canning type jars and clean food jars like from pickled or jelly bought at the store

39. rugs. most of my rugs are sidewalk finds. rugs will almost always be dirty. a decent consumer grade rug cleaner costs under $100, it's cheaper to just buy one if you have the space to store it. flushing the scavenged rug with soap, hot water, vinegar, alcohol, etc will clean almost anything but huge bedbug and allergen warning on this item

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[elsecrytt]

you fucking hate your job.

unfortunately, you also need it.

some old money family hires you to play housekeeper for their weird ass son. satoru gojo, you think.

he's handsome. just looking at him is a treat; stark white hair, bright blue eyes, a face like an actual idol.

and then he opens his mouth. illusion ruined.

whatever. you don't care that much about his "wow! you really didn't dress up for work, huh?" and "so, let me guess... no boyfriend?" you’ve dealt with worse.

you'd been excited when you got this job. you're broke. the pay is great. you're ready to do anything to not get fired.

you keep the apartment completely spotless, despite how many candy wrappers and packages he leaves around, the disaster that is his stupid fancy bathroom. 

seriously, who leaves soap and shampoo everywhere like that? who jerks off in the shower that often? throws towels around and knocks bottles and toothbrushes over? it's like he's trying to leave a mess.

you do his laundry, which he just leaves on the floor like a goddamn animal. there's some clothes with gross, crusty white on them.

one time, you'd caught him staring at you while you picked it up, smirking all the while.

this is the guy you’re being paid to look after. and you’re fucking trying! god, do you ever try!

you cook meals from scratch, hours-long, intensive processes. you check his fridge, shamelessly dig through his garbage to see what he likes and try to make things he'll enjoy.

he leaves empty boxes of takeout on the counter, your homemade dinner in the trash, untouched.

it's in your contract. you can't not cook for him. and you can't eat anything, either, not when you're terrified of getting fired and he obviously likes to make you miserable.

and your landlord just informed you last month - rent will be going up. and not by a small amount.

you'd just finished digging yourself out of one hole and life kicks you right back down.

you don't know how you're going to make rent this month. fuck, you don't even know what you're going to have for dinner. if you can afford dinner. if you can even afford to put the heat on tonight.

it's not even a question. obviously the answer is no.

sitting on the plush, luxury couch in gojo’s apartment, you bury your head in your hands, and cry.

maybe you can get another job? but there's only so many hours in the day. you're so fucking sick of working all the time. you already do.

is it too much to ask for life to cut you a fucking break?

"what's wrong?" your least favorite voice interrupts - and a hand on your shoulder, shaking you, none-too-gently.

"don't tell me..." there's that smugness, "are you cryin'?"

"sorry, i just need a minute." you say, swallowing your anger to look him in the eyes. "i just got some bad news. my landlord is raising the rent next month."

"oh?" his tone is only getting worse, "so what? just move out. or get some roommates, or whatever you poor people do."

god, the fucking mouth on this man.

"soooo? sounds like poor planning on your part," satoru says, casually leaning onto the edge of the couch, "i just don't get why you're crying about it. like, that's kinda pathetic, you know?" he snickers -

SLAP

dead silence. a sting on your hand. satoru's face bent to the side. you don't even regret it. not right now, as angry as you are.

"you-" a rant is just about to spring from your lips, and then -

satoru grabs your hands, pulling them into his, right in front of his face.

his cheeks are dusted red. pretty eyes wide and dilated, fixed on you. mouth twisted in a grin.

you glance down to the front of his pants, where a noticeable bulge has formed.

"do it again."

[noyzinerd]

Derek's Journey Into House Husbandry

Listen, Derek's inheritance was $117 million, same as Peter's. Derek's childhood was spent in a multimillion dollar mansion, with his multimillion dollar family, and he's had an affinity for expensive muscle cars. Then, all the places he lived in after the fire were decrepit safety hazards.

What I'm saying is this boy was a pampered little rich kid for most of his life before living as a hobo for the rest of it.

I like to think that for the first few months of Stiles and Derek living together, Stiles learns very quickly that Derek isn't exactly well-acquainted with "middle-class living".

Just imagine:

When Stiles gets home from work, he asks if Derek could start boiling two cups of water so that Stiles can make rice for dinner after he takes a shower. To which, Derek says "Um...sure."

However, once Stiles finishes and comes to the kitchen, he's met with this:

So, okay, that's on Stiles. Sure, he noticed Derek ordered food a lot and ate out constantly, but it had never occurred to him that he was literally living on takeout because he could afford to. The only reason he wasn't right now was because Stiles had cracked down on takeout (Stiles still had to stay relatively healthy for his job, afterall).

Unfortunately for Stiles, this isn't a one off.

When it's time to tidy up the place a little bit, Stiles tells Derek that he'll vacuum the carpet if Derek will sweep the hardwood.

Unbeknownst to Stiles, Derek hasn't ever needed to sweep before. So, about a half hour later, Stiles checks in, and Derek is just-

sweeping side-to-side, kicking up dust in the air and just spreading it to different areas of the room like a cartoon character because he doesn't know that you're supposed to use the broom to gather the dust into a centralized area (the dust pan) to be thrown away.

But Stiles doesn't have it in him to find it anything other than endearing. It's hard not to when Derek is so fucking earnest. He wants to be helpful. He wants to know how to take care of a house of his very own. Fortunately, Derek's eager to learn and a very quick study.

He learns that dish soap does NOT go in the dishwasher. He learns about the difference between laundry detergent and fabric softener, about emptying the lint trap, about changing the A/C filter, about ironing, about all the vacuum attachments and how to change the bag.

And every time Derek succeeds a little bit at adulting, Stiles sees this spark of joy and sense of accomplishment that is absolutely adorable.

It's not long before Derek takes to being a house husband like a fish to water. Which, honestly? Suits him. It isn't unusual nowadays to find Derek baking bread and watching telenovelas while Stiles is at work, or comparing cantaloupes at the grocery store in a cable knit cardigan and sweat pants.

Watching Derek do a little fist pump to himself every time he earns gas points on his rewards card at the grocery store makes Stiles want to melt into the floor.

[brett-is-afraid]

Do you know anything but the Wilbur allegations? I just saw somethings on Twitter and Wilbur also responded

Yeah. So, here's a rundown of the situation so far for anyone who might've missed it or might not know. Each link is going to include a specific timestamp for what was said. TW for detailed abuse

Shubble went live (she begins talking about it at 3:38) and talked about abuse she had experienced from another creator. She talked about how her silence was "only keeping someone else's peace" so she opened up about it.

She specifically did not name any names and stated she was talking about it to help avoid someone else being in the same situation.

She says that in the beginning, he had expressed that he had a tendency to bite and that he'd made sure she was okay with that because he "didn't want her to come back later and say he abused her." And that she had agreed because he had never hurt her, but it had become more often that he bit too hard and hurt her. But that he always seemed, "genuinely sorry" and that they would develop a safeword.

She stated that he would bite her in front of others and that she would have to laugh it off because she was embarrassed.

She specifically talked about being bitten by him and that she had communicated that it was too hard, that she did not like it. She says she was met with him blaming it on her, saying it was her pain tolerance or that she was being dramatic. She states that he would later show off the bruises to their friends and joke that it looked like he abused her. She also states that he would poke at her bruises while they hurt.

She said she had asked him to stop and he said, "this is who he is and he wasn't going to change."

She said he also would constantly contradict himself and would fight her on it sometimes, telling her that he didn't do/say certain things.

She also said he would weaponize the safeword to make sure she was hurting, ignoring their safeword and biting harder for "just a second before letting go" or grinding his teeth down and smile after.

She said she'd express her anxiety to him and he would always reassure her.

She also said she believes he lovebombed her a lot at the beginning and that he'd make really huge romantic gestures. (Calling her his soulmate and writing love letters, etc.)

She stated she'd caught him in lies before, but it had always seemed like it was small things and she didn't address it. He then lied about big things and had been caught by his friends.

She said he insisted he didn't want to break up and expected her to have solutions, but he refused to compromise. And she said he would flaunt that he'd never prioritize her over anything.

He also allegedly stated that he would never prioritize her over anything that would give him more fame and money, admitting that he'd grown to resent her and that was the final push she needed to leave.

She said when they broke up, they'd agree to be friends and that he said he could never imagine not speaking to her again. And then he never talked to her except for when she needed things back. She also said he threw away hundreds of dollars worth of her things.

She said that once, he pinned her down and had her try to get away. When she couldn't, he made that point that he was stronger and she wouldn't be able to fight him back.

She also mentioned that he lived in a really filthy place and that she felt bad for him, believing that he just didn't know how to clean and needed someone to help him. She then states that she found out he had said that he didn't bother cleaning when she wasn't there because he would just wait for her to do it (which she only found out about after they broke up).

She said she did all the cleaning, laundry, paying for all the paper towels/soap. As well as food more than half the time.

She said she also paid for all the tickets and he never offered to pay after the very beginning. She said she also told him that she couldn't afford it and that he never traveled out to see her. He then agreed to pay for the cat sitter and did it once, and never again in the next months they dated.

Shubble never confirmed it was Wilbur, but Wilbur made a statement on it which can be found on his Twitter account.

He stated that allegations had come from an ex-girlfriend and while he claimed that he did not know he was abusing her, that he thought the behavior was consensual. He claimed he had messages that he believed proved it was, but chose not to publish them "out of respect for her."

He stated he was sharing his side to offer his perspective, but not to diminish or invalidate her.

He stated he recognized she felt her and that he wanted to apologize for it, that he had begun therapy and had made changes, committing himself to earning and maintaining trust from those around him.

[Image description in alt ids]

Neither have provided any visual proof or receipts to accompany their side of the story, despite Wilbur claiming to have it. Shubble has also not released any messages that may support her claims, although she never claimed to have them.

Other content creators have spoken about it.

Tubbo said he wanted to wait until Wilbur stated his side and that his response made him angry. He stated people might think he's biased for Wilbur, but they haven't spoken in private often. He also stated the response was "fucking vile" and that Wilbur made it about him. And that people in chat don't have any place in his chat if they're defending domestic abuse and he wants them to unfollow him. That he fully supports watching Shubble for more context.

Niki also spoke about it and stated,

"I see that people expect me to say something about the situation. Truth is that I was freshly 18 years old when I met him, while I did not see a problem with it back then I can now see how harmful he was to my young self and how damaged I am from that time. my time in the uk had some of the darkest moments of my life (and I think people can tell from the way I used to act on stream) I still can’t think too much about everything that happened back then without shaking and I don’t want to, I always felt so unheard whenever I brought up any situation regarding that time. I don’t want to say more as I don’t want to make this situation about myself."

Hannah also encouraged people to support Shubble and that she avoided unfollowing Wilbur at first because she didn't want to out who her abuser. But she has now unfollowed him.

Aimsey also stated Wilbur was not canceled, he was an abuser.

Badlinu also stated he had seen Wilbur be manipulative numerous times.

Billzo also added that he'd also seen Wilbur intimidate and manipulate his friends

As far as I'm aware, that's all that's happened as of now.

Sidenote: this is not an invitation for discourse or me trying to tell anyone how they should feel/react on said situation. This is just me trying to give an objective view of what's happened, please do not start discourse on this post/blog. As always, I will not publish any negativity about any creator as that is not what this blog is for.

[elekid]

We Need $$ ASAP To Do Laundry While Living Outdoors

The manner in which my family does their laundry is largely the hygiene center which provides unhoused people in this area with our only safe & free opportunities to shower/do laundry/brush teeth. To make long short, suddenly the machines and dryers are gone, and now there are few & far between opportunites to do laundry for free until sometime in June. Besides us are couple hundred other unhoused people (we uh...tend to not have the disposable income to afford laundromat industrial machine prices, not to mention laundry soap!!!) are also unable to access this service.

I'm making this post to ask for whatever funding you are able to donate in order to access the laundromat across the street for our local unhoused community and ourselves this week. I know that we cannot be the only people running out of clean clothes already...The opportunity to have clean blankets is something that I do not see why any person would deny to another human being!!!

Funds for this laundromat are loaded into a prepaid card that can only be used @ on-site machines, and wheeled cats/wagons can easily be used for transport. The only store purchases neccessary would be laundry soap / laundry sanitizer

We will wash as much laundry as we can afford to!!!

(I can be messaged to ask for alternate methods of sending $$$)

TL;DR HOMELESS COUPLE NEED FUNDS TO DO LAUNDRY FOR SELVES AND LOCAL UNHOUSED COMMUNITY IN THE RISING HEAT !!!

[stormysprite]

My first fanfic! I wanted to start out with a fluffy (and maybe a little crack-y?) oneshot featuring the lu boys. Link to the AO3 coming once my account gets approved later this week!

✨Magical Placeholder for Title Until I Figure It Out✨

Warriors stared down the strategy map, rubbing the pebble that represented him between his fingers. He’d battled unlikely odds before, but this was a whole new level of hopeless.

He had to try. For the sake of his brothers, he had to try.

“Captain?” Sky asked, fiddling with his sailcloth. “Are you sure we shouldn’t get the old man?”

“He’s compromised. Always has been for missions like this, he’s just better at hiding it now. We’re certain Hyrule can’t swim?”

“He shrieked when Wild went waist deep into the lake a few months ago,” Four said from Warriors’s other side. “I don’t think anyone in Hyrule’s world knows how to swim.”

That complicated things. Hyrule would be one of the most resistant to their plan, and they couldn’t just throw him in. Warriors considered using Legend to coax Hyrule into the water, but the veteran seemed to have a thing against water. Probably another secret. Legend seemed to have a lot of those.

Warriors rubbed between his brows. He sighed and looked up at the pine trees surrounding their campsite. He’d convinced everyone except Sky and Four—the only Heroes who would accept his desperate plan—to forage or collect firewood elsewhere. That had been an hour ago. They were out of time for finding other solutions.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll have to keep Hyrule in the shallows, then. Four?”

Four grinned, teeth glinting in the sunlight.

“Way ahead of you, Captain.”

Warriors nodded and turned to Sky. The Chosen Hero had already grabbed his gust bellows and gave him a grim nod.

“Good,” Warriors said. “There’s just one other part of our problem to solve.”

He placed his own pebble next to the river on the map and picked up the miniature wolf Sky had carved the other day.

“Not it,” Four and Sky said at the same time.

“I didn’t even—” Warriors turned from the map. Both his brothers had their fingers on their noses. The captain huffed. 

“Fine. I’ll wrestle the wolf. But you both are on laundry duty for this.”

“Small price to pay,” Four said.

“Yeah, I like my fingers right where they are.” Sky drummed his digits on the bellows with an apologetic smile. Warriors shook his head.

“Just get into position. Remember, quick and precise. We can’t afford mistakes.”

Four nodded. Coming from anyone else, Sky’s salute would have been sarcastic, but Warriors knew his fellow knight meant it. They both left, and the operation was on. Warriors took a deep breath, rolled up the map, and got his supplies from his pack.

He crept to the stream near their campsite, past the spot where Four had laid out everyone’s armor under the guise of repairing it later tonight. Good. Nothing would rust this way.

He crouched behind a bush near the shore and laid out his supplies. Three brushes for different hair textures, a pile of rags, a larger pile of fluffy towels, and the largest bottle of soap he’d ever seen. They hadn’t stayed in his world long enough to drag everyone to a bathhouse last week, but at least he’d had time to stock up. He lined up a smaller bottle of conditioner next to the brushes. Far as he knew, he’d be the only one interested in it.

A shout echoed across the forest. Phase One had begun.

Warriors grabbed the soap and squeezed a thick thread into the almost-still water. He wished he had one of Wild’s Korok leaves to stir, but a large stick he found near shore would have to do. He frothed the soap until a thick layer of foam sat on the water. Good thing Sky had offered to build a dam downstream so the soap wouldn’t wash away.

The lavender and eucalyptus soap floated into Warriors’s nose, making him relax. Another shout—no, that was a howl—jerked him into action. Four’s part of the plan must have worked. How the smithy knew what would provoke Twilight into transforming, Warriors had no idea. He didn’t want to know. Plausible deniability in case Twilight got mad. Warriors shuddered and returned to the bush.

Another howl. Footsteps racing.

Closer.

Closer.

Wheezing, Sky tore into the clearing. He spotted Warriors, nodded, and lined up with his back to a tree. Sky pointed his gust bellows at the water. No one approaching the stream would see him.

“Cheatin’ bilge rat!” Wind sprinted into the clearing after Sky, Legend and Hyrule just behind. “You’re shark bai—”

Sky turned on his gust bellows.

Wind screeched and flailed headfirst into the stream. Hyrule tumbled after him. Legend figured out what was going on and activated his pegasus boots, running against the gust. Sky’s bellows blew stronger. Legend lost his footing and splashed into the stream.

Warriors covered his mouth to hold back a snicker.

Three heads popped up from the water. Hyrule looked panicked. Legend looked torn between holding up Hyrule and dragging Sky in with them. Wind looked murderous.

The sailor lunged up to grab Sky’s ankle, but Sky gusted until Wind fell back into the stream.

“You yellow-bellied, lily-livered, octo-brained seagull splat!” Wind yelled, but Warriors could hear him covering up a laugh.

“I have no idea what any of those words mean,” Sky said with a grin and an extra puff of air in Wind’s face.

Wind sucked in a breath, probably to ‘educate’ Sky. Another howl and a high-pitched, unheroic scream cut him off.

“Sky!”

Four tore into view and tossed Wild’s Sheikah Slate to Sky before jumping into the water. Wild burst from the bushes and dove after Four with a splash. Wolfie raced after them, skidding to a stop before the shore. He took a step back and looked around.

Come on, Twilight. Just a little closer.

Four burst above the surface, only for Wild to tackle him deeper into the stream. Warriors had only seen that look on Wild’s face once—right before disintegrating the iron knuckle that had downed Twilight.

Maybe Warriors had miscalculated his plan.

“Wild! Wild, stop—” Four spluttered, treading water while stopping Wild from dragging him to the bottom. “The Slate’s fine. Sky has it, look.”

Sky flinched as Wild turned his glare onto him, but the Chosen Hero waved the Sheikah Slate to prove Four’s point. Grumbling, Wild swam back to the edge and made grabby hands for his prized item.

“Give it.”

Sky held the Slate out of reach, putting it at the base of a tree.

“You can have it back after your bath. The Captain can’t stand our smell anymore.”

Caught in the moment, Warriors stood up from his hiding place to argue how that wasn’t what he’d said—he’d thought it, but hadn’t said it—before realizing he’d blown his cover. Warriors caught Wolfie’s eye. Wolfie bolted.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Warriors lunged for Wolfie and shoved his shapeshifting brother toward the water. Wolfie stumbled, but didn’t fall in.

How was Twilight heavier in this form?

A burst of wind from Sky pounded against Warriors’s back, pushing the wrestling captain and wolf closer to the stream. Wolfie dug in his claws and growled. Warriors pushed against the wretched-smelling mound of dog with all his strength, but Wolfie didn’t budge.

A splash was all the warning he got before five sets of hands shot out of the water, grabbed Wolfie, and pulled him in. Warriors sailed through the air and hit the stream, water and bubbles shooting up his nose. He broke the surface, coughing and spluttering. Eucalyptus burnedthrough his sinuses.

When he could finally see and breathe again, he cackled at the sight in front of him.

Wolfie squirmed as Wild and Legend kept him from swimming to shore. A cloud of mud surrounded the rest of the Heroes, mostly coming from the wolf. Wind scrubbed soap into the fur. Four rubbed Wolfie’s paws, freeing wads of muck jammed between the pads. Hyrule clung to Wolfie’s back and made bubble hats for the wolf. 

Warriors had never seen the mighty beast so undignified.

Wolfie whimpered. A chime sounded and black flecks started to swarm around him.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Legend bopped Wolfie on the nose. The black flecks disappeared, and Wolfie growled. Hyrule added a pompom to Wolfie’s bubble hat. “Your smell’s going to attract monsters if you don’t clean up this version of yourself. Honestly, your fur crackles.”

“And it reduces the risk of us getting sick,” Warriors said as he waded toward the group. He shot a dirty look at Sky, dry and giggling on the shore. “Which is the real reason I organized this.”

“Did you have to throw us in?” Wild asked.

Warriors shrugged and rubbed soap into Wild’s hair. If his brothers were going to focus solely on scrubbing Twilight, Warriors could make sure everyone else got clean, too. Wild melted under the touch and almost lost hold of Wolfie.

“We needed to do laundry, too. This hits two ChuChus with one arrow. Besides, would you have taken a bath if I’d asked nicely?”

Wild shook his head, but caught sight of something on shore and grinned. Warriors followed his gaze and felt his eyes grow wide.

Time loomed behind Sky, who hadn’t noticed him yet. Sky squeaked as Time picked him up and hurled him at the other Heroes. All eight of them plunged under, legs, arms, and one tail tangling together. They finally surfaced, Hyrule still using Wolfie as a raft. Everyone piled on Sky to make sure he got as drenched as the rest of them.

“Stop,” Sky said between giggling and failing to push them away. “That—that tickles!”

Which was the worst thing to tell a group of Links, Warriors thought. Chaos and mayhem were vital parts of the Hero’s Spirit. Even Warriors splashed suds on Sky after that comment. After all, Sky had a great laugh.

A shadow blocked out the sun, too sudden and dark to be a cloud. Warriors looked up.

Oh.

Oh, no.

He’d definitely miscalculated.

Time cannonballed straight for them.

Later that night, while they dried off and teased each other over dinner, Warriors admitted he screamed like a little girl. If only because his seven other brothers did the exact same thing. 

[starandcloud]

John "Soap" MacTavish Headcannons

This man can SPRINT in heels I will die on this hill

If it wasn't for the military, he'd sleep until noon

Probably work a nightshift too

He needs coffee to function, if he doesn't have coffee he's a grouch

Takes his time waking up, not an early bird

He needs like five alarms to wake up

Bathroom first kind of person

Sometimes takes a shower in the morning, depends on if he didn't the night before

COFFEE and juice

Sweet tooth, a horrible sweet tooth

Chocolate chip pancakes are his go to, or whatever the canteen has tbh he's not that picky

He sleeps in whatever, or just his boxers does not care-

He does not dress up, he's in a uniform and looks presentable 9/10 out of ten. He's in a t-shirt and sweats when he's not deployed

Takes a shower every night, sometimes multiple times in the same night if he still feels grimey after the first one

He doesn't take baths often, but when he does it has bubbles and a rubber duckie. He likes the simple things in life guys

He likes simple scents, nothing complex

He hates 3-in-1

He likes Mint toothpaste

He eats when he can, but has pocket snacks

He loves home cooked meals

He likes smoothies, the purple ones (that he can never remember the name of) he gets from a smoothie shop are his favorites

He never makes meals for later, he's not that organized-

Rarely has leftovers

Get's fast food once in a blue moon

Doesn't eat out much, unless it's a special occasion

He does most of the chores, he has a specific way he does things

DESPISES dishes, hates the feeling of the food being squishy and soft under his fingers

IMMEDIATELY washes dishes after using them

Does have a "laundry chair" but it doesn't last long tbh

Makes his bed in the morning, military taught him well

Has a car, but that's about it

Owns a car, but it's this little puddle hopper and it's beat up- He could afford a better car, but he's deployed a lot so he probably won't buy one

He literally takes his car through the biggest puddles ever, just to see the water arch. He's easily amused

Hates boats, especially after Graves

He has an Android

Special ringtones for everyone he cares about

He has it silenced 9/10, he silences it for missions and forgets to unsilence it

He has candy-crush on his phone and I will stand firm on this

He has the basic lock and home screens

He has snapchat but uses it for the filters, also has facebook for market place and Tiktok for the car videos

He has a few followers on Tiktok

He can block someone easy

He posts his cooking fails online

He probably has angered the baking/cooking niche online A LOT, dude probably has callouts from five years ago because he doesn't care-

He sleeps whenever, but totally has sleeping meds for his PTSD

He can either be up all night or in seconds, depends on how tired he is tbh

He's a light sleeper

He talks in his sleep, but it's mostly mumbles

Has nightmares more often than not

Has a bit of light from his TV, finds it hard to sleep without it

Sleeps with every window and door locked

Has his bed in the corner of the wall, hard to be attacked from both sides

His handwritting is damn near impossible to understand, sometimes Price has a hard time deciphering it

He's an outdoorsy type

The first memory is of being with him mom at a fair

He likes bread, just bread ;-;

He listens to literally everything, except classical it puts him to sleep

Very Artsy

He has Bachlers degree

He loves cats, and has one at his moms

Struggles with gifts tbh

He went from the tallest in his family, to the one of the shortest on his team

He's huge on physical touch, especially with his partner

He said something that made Ghost stop in his tracks once, and then ever did again. It was so stupid it was smart

Soap is so fucking sociable it honestly annoys Ghost

He really wants to get married, but doesn't want to put the stress of him always being deployed on his spouse and he doesn't want to die on them

He's allergic to Buckwheat, Shellfish, Balsam of Peru, Tegretol, and Cosmetics

Whenever something traumatic happens he shrugs and goes: "Well that happened" and goes on with his life

He has a lot of scars, mostly from war itself most of them are on his upper arms but some are on his chest and forearms

He has a scar from getting a gash on his leg when playing when he was a kid, he needed A LOT of stitches

He has one that looks like a cresant moon on his right hand ring finger

He honestly doesn't mind when people trace his scars, it's kinda soothing

A little kid once asked about one on his chest, which he got when a bomb went on prematurely, and he said he got it from a T-Rex to entertain the kid.

That was also when he decided he wanted kids, when the kids eyes blew open wide and they bounced on their toes asking more questions. Which he provided absurd answers until the kids mom rushed over and apologized

The one on his chest was from a near-death experience, learned really quick how to run really really fast

He holds his partner close during cuddling, if their back is against his chest his face in buried in their neck. If he's laying on top of them, he has his head against their stomach and his arms protectively around their waist, or if his head is on his lap he just gently holds them and usually falls asleep

He's close with all of his family but is 1n00% a momma's boy

He stims by making faces, which is slightly weird if you don't know him wel

[comic-sans-chan]

cursed modern human garashir au where ds9 is an old ruined resort that was built by some evil rich motherfuckers years ago and was recently seized back by the native people whose land and economy it had destroyed. it's since been converted into an affordable apartment complex sort of situation (just... with a pool, bar, restaraunts, spa and tennis court built into it lol) and is run by sisko and kira. since it is rundown, odo gets hired back on to keep kids from further vandalizing it and o'brien's team gets hired on from the nonprofit organization sisko works for to fix the place up best he can. dukat is the old overseer of the property who drops by sometimes to remind them he and his hospitality business still exist, and my, what a fine job they’ve done renovating the place! it’s actually nice again. sure would be a shame if someone bought the property out from under them (lmao jk kardasi hospitality and starfleet are friends! no hard feelings. they should collaborate on some future projects, actually).

garak's a sad bitch who just lost his amazing morally dubious nepotism career at obsidian corp. (which absorbed kardasi hospitality) and moved into the complex just for the comfortingly familiar architecture. even tho he's not on the payroll for his (secret) dad's evil exploitative company anymore he's still vital to its continued efficiency and is an absolute sucker who still does unpaid shady work for them from time to time. so no one in the complex likes him, but also he's a very pleasant and fastidious queer man who pays his rent on time and has completely taken over the laundry room, to the benefit of everyone, because all the machines actually work now, it's always tidy, and there's a variety of forever-stocked detergents and soaps available, plus an iron?? there was not an iron before garak moved in. which is how it eventually becomes public knowledge that garak has an online tailoring and fashion design business, and he's actually pretty good at restoring clothes that get fucked by the washing machine or eaten by rats, soooo. yeah. they let him stick around.

meanwhile julian's a hot doctor who works at the local hospital and is absolutely buried in student debt that he refuses to let his moderately-wealthy family help him with because they're awful people who had him on illegal drugs without his knowledge since he was a little kid. they were afraid he had something wrong with him, apparently. he was too far behind in his class or w/e. they couldn't handle having a kid with special needs, so they pumped him full of dangerous experimental stimulants. only reason he found out is because he snuck off somewhere to start transitioning and had some tests done that revealed all the crazy shit in his system. he's insanely lucky he didn't end up in the hospital with seizures or fall into a coma or worse. not to mention his parents still dead-name him left and right over a decade later. it's a whole mess and a huge secret, because he technically has a history with illegal drug abuse, and it's a partially ongoing history because going cold turkey off drugs he's been on since he was six is Not A Good Idea, so??? fuck his life, actually. he lives in the apartment just down the hall from garak's. 

garak hates the country his dad's company expanded into and would like nothing better than to move back home, but it's not really logistically possible. especially since everyone there hates him cuz his (secret) dad's company is a mega-corporation that's completely taken over everything p much and is a complete monopoly nightmare, and he did... kinda... work there for decades. no one would hire him if he went back. it would be an extreme conflict of interest, since everyone wants to stay on tain's good side, including garak. but starfleet is interested in him, so he does some begrudging contract work for them sometimes, but he really has no desire to join them. he just wants to resume his old career and reclaim his assets.

julian's hospital is owned by starfleet, tho. his scholarship into medical school was also from starfleet, in fact--they're the only reason he was able to (sort of) afford becoming a doctor at all. so he's a big fan, even tho they are pretty hardcore anti-drugs in a way that's made him have to forge medical records and risk serious legal charges and prison time. julian comes across as a squeaky clean medical professional and an adorable idiot, but he's intimately familiar with back-alley dealings. which is kind of how he ends up helping garak with his drug addiction, and keeps said addiction off the record.

but basically, how it begins is julian likes to support the local restaurants in the complex and garak finds him there and thinks he's gorgeous, and it proceeds as expected. they fuck nasty and become codependent. ten years later, julian lives in a modest house with garak in his home country and garak irons all his old university hoodies.

[bloomingforerza]

Living with Style 5 + Sousuke head cannons

notes from bloom: @lamnwar thank you so much for requesting! i’m glad you enjoy my free! content 😂 you requested it over on my main blog, this is my writing blog! hope you enjoy :)

Haruka Nanase

🫧 When Haru moved to Tokyo for college, he asked you to come with him.

🫧 It’s a new city for Haru, and having you there eases his mind.

🫧 You’d probably argue about having mackerel for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so for your own sanity you decided to be the one who’d cook the meals.

🫧 Haru isn’t complaining, he thinks you’re an amazing cook

🫧 Every night he likes to break down his day with you, his head on your lap, the TV playing in the background. It helps him recharge his brain

🫧 He’s the type of boyfriend/roommate that would do your least favorite chore for you. Whether it’s laundry or dish washing or even cleaning a room, he’ll do it without even being asked

🫧 Makoto comes by every morning to make sure you both are awake and ready, since Haru’s routine has partly also become your routine.

🫧 Haru makes you come swimming with them in the mornings too. You attend the same college as Makoto though, and he hates parting ways with you after.

🫧 You have a special nighttime routine together that comes naturally after you move in. When you both are home for the night, after dinner Haru lets you snuggle into him for a little while and listen as you talk about your day.

🫧 He likes to be little spoon, but he also enjoys when you snuggle into him. He’ll press kisses to your head when you talk about rough moments in your day. He’ll laugh with you as well, never letting you think he wasn’t listening.

🫧 He’s the best listener honestly, but it’s apparent that’s only for you. He cares about what you have to say.

🫧 Boyfriend rating: 8/10. Roommate rating: 10/10

Makoto Tachibana

🫧 Gosh, living with Makoto would be a dream.

🫧 Makoto met you on his first day of college. After you started dating his first year of college, you began to sleep over quite often.

🫧 Considering you hardly ever stayed at home anymore, he knew it was risky, but he asked you to move in. He was so happy when you told him you would.

🫧 Waking up with Makoto every day is like waking up in a bubble. He felt the same, he woke up refreshed every day and never wanted to let you go.

🫧 But life had other plans. He was just thankful that you attended the same school.

🫧 After moving in, you began commuting with Haru and Mako. This included morning swim practice. Haru was kind to you, he didn’t get any weird vibe from you and you made Makoto happy.

🫧 He loves to dote on you. He has such motherly instincts for a man, it’s one of your favorite things about him.

🫧 He also likes to shower with you later on in your relationship. He loves to scrub shampoo on your head, and he’ll condition it and rinse it just for you.

🫧 He’ll even become confident enough to scrub your body with soap. That’s a fun morning.

🫧 Makoto just loves to make sure you are taking care of yourself. Feeding you is no exception. He’ll do the cooking.

🫧 But you don’t like letting him do EVERYTHING by himself, so of course you’ll help him by cleaning the dishes as he’s using them.

🫧 The two of you make a pretty good team. He likes to silently imagine doing all of this with a child between the two of you one day.

🫧 But he’s still not confident enough to let that be known to you. So he’ll just smile and soak in the present.

Nagisa Hazuki

🫧 Nagisa isn’t always the most responsible so you’re going to be pretty much on your own when it comes to most of the chores

🫧 But it’s okay because he’ll help you while you take charge. You’re vacuuming? He’ll pick up the large debris. You’re doing laundry? He’ll fold. You’re washing dishes? He’ll dry them.

🫧 He can’t cook but he’ll buy you dinner when he can afford it between rent. You just have to make sure it’s not something absolutely bizarre

🫧 He’s a huge puppy, always follows you around the house

🫧 Probably plays video games with you on your nights in.

🫧 Nagisa cares a lot about school, though, and when he’s not at swim practice during the week he’s studying.

🫧 He’ll forget to take care of himself, so you’ll bring him tea and snacks to help keep him motivated through the work. You might have to yell at him to not get distracted if he tries to get handsy with you.

🫧 He’ll invite you out to swim on Sunday mornings, and you’ll follow your workouts up with something extra healthy for breakfast.

🫧 He sometimes feels like you provide more for him than he can provide for you. But you’ll hold him and remind him you chose to live with him because you love him.

🫧 He tells himself one day he’ll have enough money to support the both of you. He hopes he can take care of you the way you can take care of him.

🫧 Waking up with Nagisa in your arms is almost like a safe haven. He likes to sleep in the honeymoon hug position, so you might have a little drool on your arm or shirt.

🫧 But he tries to make you breakfast sometimes and it’s really cute, especially when he starts to get the hang of it

Rei Ryugazaki

🫧 Rei is such a careful and practical man, but also a romantic and passionate lover.

🫧 Living with Rei is endless smooth sailing. Of course all couples argue, but when it comes to living with Rei you don’t have to communicate with him on what needs to be done.

🫧 Everything is 50/50 between the two of you. Rei hates vacuuming, so you take care of it. If you hate doing dishes, he’ll do them.

🫧 The two of you will take turns cooking every night, with date night every Saturday after school. Whoever cooks, the other helps.

🫧 You both have different preferences when it comes to cooking so it’s nice being able to alternate.

🫧 If you have a bad day, Rei is the type of boyfriend to surprise you with baked sweets when you’re walking in the door

🫧 He likes to have fresh flowers for the apartment every week as well. He likes to say it’s because flowers can brighten up any room just by looking at them.

🫧 He will never admit it, but watching you get dressed is his favorite part of the day.

🫧 If you ask him, he’ll say its cooking dinner with you. But he loves watching you meticulously pick your outfit for the day, and then watching your every move when you put it on.

🫧 He just thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, he could admire you all day long.

🫧 Rei is super smart, so if you ever need help with studying or homework he’s got your back 110% of the way. He’s the type who will help you solve it before he just gives you the answer, that way you’re still pushing yourself to try.

🫧 Just make sure you offer a thanks after you get an A ;)

Rin Matsuoka

🫧 Oh, geez. Living in Australia is a learning curve in itself for you

🫧 But your ever-so-caring boyfriend is there to help you every step of the way. He was in your shoes once after all

🫧 Rin loves taking you out for walks every morning. Sometimes you’ll both opt for a run, but most of the time you like to slow down with him and take in the new sights.

🫧 He loves to sit in the park with you at night, just to talk about your day together. He wants all of your grit, he wants to make all the bad disappear.

🫧 Rin is honestly the biggest romantic you’ve ever met. He’s the type of boyfriend who’d surprise pick you up from school and walk home with you.

🫧 He loves when you watch him swim. He always feels like he’s doing better if you’re there watching him. He’s definitely a show-off for you

🫧 Because he’s training to become a world-class athlete, making sure Rin is eating properly most of the time falls on your shoulders. He can cook, but there’s no guarantee he’ll cook something he should be eating.

🫧 But he’s ever so appreciative when you make his lunch for him, packing it with some nice snacks to help him power through the day.

🫧 When it comes to sleeping, Rin doesn’t always like to cuddle. But sometimes you’ll wake up in the night, and Rin will be holding you, big spooning you or holding you in a honeymoon hug.

🫧 Rin definitely talks in his sleep. Sometimes, when you’re lucky, you’ll catch some of the things he says. One time, you heard him say your name followed by “don’t let the chickens eat the rice.”

🫧 That had you cracking up for days. Rin always thinks your lying, but one of these days you’ll have to remember to record him.

🫧 He’ll get you back for making fun of him one of these days. For now, he’ll just laugh with you.

Sousuke Yamazaki

🫧 Life with Sousuke isn’t simple, and it’s not easy at times.

🫧 With his shoulder and just having surgery, you might have to pick up a lot of the house chores.

🫧 He always tries though, and that’s what counts. Healing should be his top priority, so you never hold it against him.

🫧 After his check-ups, Sousuke also likes to go on walks with you. Just to effortlessly talk and laugh about anything.

🫧 Waking up with him is so sweet. He tries to cook you breakfast since you always cook lunch and dinner. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

🫧 And when it doesn’t, he’ll just take you out to eat breakfast.

🫧 I feel like Sousuke is a chess man. If you have some free time, he’ll probably sit down and play a game of chess and just talk.

🫧 He always lets you think you’re going to win, but then he’ll put you in check before you even know it.

🫧 Pushing Sousuke to eat better is probably the thing you two argue about most. He drinks soda every day, it’s garbage and it’s bad for you.

🫧 He silently appreciates it though. Getting back into swimming won’t be easy if he lets himself get out of shape.

🫧 Sousuke is a simple man. He’ll bring you home a little sweet every day on his way home from work. Its his way of showing he appreciates you day in and day out.

🫧 He respects your space and you respect his. Honestly such an amazing boyfriend, and roommate. Helping him is never an issue.

[shaunamilfman]

bro i cant stop thinking about ur perv lottie 😫 so good

Thinking about stalker!perv shauna like...just everything. y/n is a celebrity and shauna is their #1 fan. literally. she somehow gets close with people who know you and asks about you. obviously, she knows her limits, but i feel like she'd ask what perfume you wear, or what laundry detergent you use so she can smell like you. she seems to be everywhere you go, even on secret vacations that only you and your manager know about. you dont bother your security guards about her because she doesn't seem like a threat. until this trip at least.

she seems to be getting closer this time. accidentally bumping into you at this small shop, saying she's here visiting family and cant believe you're here. of course, you dont wanna seem like a snob, so you accept her offer of taking a selfie. except when you leave, you notice that your water bottle is gone.

this is getting too long so let me get to the point 😭shauna cornering you in your hotel room with a knife (she wouldn't actually hurt you. or would she?) and blackmailing you with all the scandalous pictures she took of you. it would ruin your image, you know that, so you tell her you'll do whatever she wants. and she wants you. she'll take pictures of you two fucking to keep for herself. (and to blackmail you again later)

just obsessed with shauna being a little freak perv... getting off on stalking you. she definitely steals a pair of ur underwear after too. smirking while watching your future interviews, because she's the one who gave you those hickeys.

bro im glad you liked it!

i can 100% get behind perv shauna. shauna 100% runs one of those accounts that track your every move. she's so well known amongst your fans for always knowing where you are/getting unreleased pictures of you. perv shauna absolutely sprays your cologne on her pillow so can breathe it in while getting herself off. she breaks into your hotel room while your gone so she can snoop around all your soaps and stuff so she can use the same ones.

shauna has such an innocent look about her that even if you realized she was following you around a bit you'd just assume she was a little obsessed but nothing to actually worry about since she's not very threatening looking. more than anything it was because you got a little kick out of someone so hot following you around

shauna getting a picture with you at the store and breathing the smell of your shampoo in. she's such a freak but you can't help but shiver at the feeling of her breathing so close to your neck. you don't believe a word she says, but you really cant afford the scandal so you smile and nod along. shauna stealing your water bottle because your lips touched it so you're practically kissing if you think about it 🤔

your practically exhausted as you come into your hotel room, more than ready to collapse into your bed. you look in horror at your bed as it's filled with pictures of you in various states of undress. you glance around the room and stare at shauna with wide eyes as you see her, tensing at the sight of the knife in her hand. you knew that you could call out for security and they'd probably get here before she could do any major damage, after all you did think she was too obsessed to actually hurt you all that much. but there was something about her that made you want to give it to her anyway.

thinking about eating shauna out while she talks about how much she wants you, how long she's fantasized about this (shauna is such a talker). perv!shauna tying you down and riding the strap while taking even more pictures of you?? you know letting her do this is just going to make it worse but... you weren't all that upset about it, honestly. you're more than happy to let her climb you like a tree, even if she kept saying weird shit about the smell of your soap.

shauna is so possessive in general but perv!shauna is leaving you a walking bruise. hair & makeup nearly cries when they see how many hickies you're covered in. they do their best but the worst one is still clearly visible. shauna definitely gets off watching the visible hickey on your neck as you promote your new project.

[aliciameade]

Darkness at Dawn - Ch. 4

Title: Darkness at Dawn Author: aliciameade Rating: M/E Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: Even Bonnie & Clyde met their fate eventually.

Set five years after "Baby."

Also on AO3

Stephanie notices a shift in the way the other inmates act around and toward her after Emily lays claim to her. The intimidating shoulder-checks and glares have stopped; in fact, she’s given a wide berth when moving from point A to B.

When she returns to her cell after breakfast, meekly eaten next to Emily like the property she’s perceived to be, there’s an assortment of items on her bunk. A bar of soap and small bottles of shampoo and conditioner—all name-brands that are far better than the cheap, harsh options they’re provided. Several chocolate bars. Even a bottle of soda and a new toothbrush. She doesn’t know where it came from, but in prison, it was the equivalent of finding a bag of money. She didn’t even eat much chocolate on the outside, but after putting everything away, she settled on her bed and happily ate one. She even split it with her cellmates, who seemed to gain a level of confidence over the following days as well.

They’re protected by proxy. They’re Stephanie’s friends, and everyone knows to not mess with Emily’s girl.

It makes prison life more bearable. She still has to pretend that she’s not voluntarily following Emily around the rec yard, and she has to pretend that she’s being dragged against her will into empty cells and behind trees, and it was a particularly thrilling moment when Emily “jumped” her in the open group showers, making Stephanie get on her knees in front of everyone until Emily yelled at them to leave. She never could have predicted that prison would afford her the opportunity to act out so many fantasies, ones she didn’t even know she had until they were happening. It felt dirty and wrong, and maybe it was. It was also dangerous if they were to get caught. 

Weeks pass. She begs guards to use the phone to call her lawyer, citing her rights being violated by denying access to counsel, but they just laugh in her face or ignore her entirely.

At least she eats better now. Emily gets favorable treatment from the inmates working the kitchen, and so does she. One day, they even got to share an apple. An apple!

She’s going on eight months in when a guard shows up in her cell, cuffing her wrists and chaining her ankles to lead her, by herself, in a direction she’s never been taken before. “Where are you taking me?”

There’s no response from the guard, who jerks on the chain around her waist. He unlocks a door they eventually reach and pushes her through it. It slams closed and locks behind her.

Her attorney is sitting at a table with an empty chair waiting for her.

It’s an emotional conversation. He shares the gravity of her situation. What should happen next. What could go wrong. That once they finally get back to the USA, the process will finally begin and the time spent in prison in Greece will have been for nothing. That she and Emily will be tried separately, and that they will try to get one to implicate the other.

Stephanie would rather spend her life in prison for a murder she committed and failed to get away with, what she deserves, than let Emily be convicted of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Four months later, she and Emily are sitting on a prisoner transport plane above the Atlantic Ocean flying west. 

They’ve been extradited to face the laundry list of charges against them. They’re charged with many of the same crimes—first-degree murder, conspiracy, forgery, insurance fraud, and money laundering. Stephanie earned the bonus charges of kidnapping for taking Nicky to Greece and perjury for lying under oath at Sean’s murder trial. Emily’s bonus charge is bigamy for marrying Stephanie without divorcing Sean.

Their cases are messy, full of twists and turns and gray areas, and it’s those gray areas that her attorney assures her will result in exoneration. Is it kidnapping when Emily agreed to it, even if Sean didn’t? How can there be bigamy if there was no legal marriage to Stephanie? The exceptions are plentiful, and she gives herself a fifty-fifty chance in front of a jury.

Emily, asleep in her seat on the other side of the aisle, armed U.S. Air Marshals between them, has repeatedly promised that it will work out, that Stephanie will be okay, and that she’ll be reunited with their boys.

Each time Emily reassures her, she grows more worried. Emily is too confident about the situation, and red flags are starting to pop up in her mind.

The flags fade into the background for a while, because she has to adjust to her new home: York Correctional Institution in Connecticut. 

Detective Summerville is there when they arrive at intake. There’s no reason for him to be, but he is and doesn’t say a word. He just sits and smiles haughtily while they’re fingerprinted and photographed.

York is a far cry from Thiva. It’s still a prison, but it’s clean, comparatively. They have uniforms, and Stephanie’s gray sweatpants and maroon T-shirt are sized appropriately. She only has one cellmate who gives Stephanie the house rules on Day One, which she makes sure to follow. The food is tolerable. Comparatively. The chaos is more organized. Her attorney arranges weekly funding of her commissary account from her assets that haven’t been frozen by the government.

She’s surrounded by convicted felons and hardened criminals with serious charges awaiting trials. Like herself, she supposes.

At her bond hearing, she’s denied release despite her plea to be allowed to care for her son and her attorney’s arguments, for all the reasons she anticipated. She’s fled the country once. She knows how to change her identity. She’s accused of first-degree murder.

Freedom is denied with the slam of a gavel.

Prison is lonely. It’s monotonous. It’s dangerous. She struggles to not become a target of others’ misdirected rage, and she’s an easy target being as small and unassuming as she is. It’s apparent to everyone that she hasn’t made a habit of being locked up, and quickly earns the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ (or ‘Punkin,’ as most pronounce it), and several women try to stake claim to her. Several terrifying close calls keep her looking over her shoulder.

Many of them lay off her once she reveals she’s there on a murder charge after persistent questioning at meal times, and that she did time in Greece. Prison knows prison, she learns, and surviving the conditions of the facilities there earns her some respect. A few more finally leave her be when she mentions her wife is locked up there, too, also on a murder charge, and that her name is Emily Nelson.

It’s how she learns Emily’s done what she does best: she’s become a dominant inmate in her block better known as Half-Nelson, and the moniker makes Stephanie laugh. She assumes Emily made quick work of whoever the leader of her block was when she arrived. She hopes she wasn’t injured in the process.

News of power transfers travels quickly, and inmates in Stephanie’s block already know who Half-Nelson is, and were perhaps even warned to stay away from Stephanie if she were to guess by the way they stopped their repeated advances on her. She wishes she’d decided to drop Emily’s name much earlier. It’s also the first time she realizes she might have a way to communicate with Emily, if other people are, if only she can figure out how.

It’s all the things she knows prison is intended to be. They claim it’s supposed to be rehabilitative and teach her a lesson, but all it’s doing is filling her with her own rage and eroding her ability to trust people.

She gets to see Miles sometimes. It had taken many phone calls, a lot of tears, and a lot of breaking down her ego to convince her mother to take him in after Stephanie had kept him from her for nearly six years, leaving her to assume both he and her daughter were dead. It took even more phone calls and meetings with her attorney to set up a new guardianship—this time through Stephanie’s legal name. But she’d managed to get him stateside and avoid the foster system.

Visitations with him are hard. She had delayed it as long as she could, foolishly holding onto a false hope that this would all disappear tomorrow and she’d be released to wrap him up in her arms and kiss the top of his head and pretend that none of this had happened.

But time proved that would not be the case, and three months into her incarceration in Connecticut, she saw her son for the first time in a year. The reunion was in front of a prison guard and her judgmental mother who’d driven him down from Albany where she had moved to when she’d retired while Stephanie had been living her new life. Miles was taller than Stephanie now. She’d missed his thirteenth birthday a few weeks earlier.

He was angry. She wasn’t able to stop crying. He wanted to know what was going on, why she was in prison, why he wasn’t able to see her for so long, and where are his other mom and his brother. When can they all go home? Why did they do this to them?

She didn’t have any good answers for him. She promised she would explain everything eventually, and begged him for patience, trust, and understanding. She knew Nicky had been returned to his father not long after her arrest. She knew Emily was in prison. And she knew, via her attorney, that Emily was fighting her own custody battle for Nicky to not lose her rights permanently.

Even if Stephanie’s mother would allow it—she never would—Miles is disallowed from talking to Emily. She’d been his mother half his life, and he wasn’t allowed to talk to her.

It broke Stephanie’s heart, and it pained her to imagine Emily’s heightened isolation. At least Stephanie has her mother and Miles. Emily’s mother had been suffering from dementia for years, and Stephanie’s not sure if she’s still alive; even if she was, she knows Emily would want nothing to do with her. Stephanie and the boys had become Emily’s entire life, and they’ve all been ripped apart.

Unlike their incarceration in Greece, here her relationship with Emily is part of their records. Summerville made sure of it. Their permanent separation is mandated. She hasn’t seen Emily since they arrived. It’s maddening. It’s heartbreaking. She misses her wife and Nicky. She hasn’t been in control of her life for more than a year, and it feels like she was pushed out of an airplane without a parachute and she doesn’t know when she will finally hit the ground. She’s still falling.

“Smothers. Visitation.”

She has a black eye when she’s retrieved from her cell one morning. She’d carelessly reached for another inmate’s water cup, mistaking it for her own, and was promptly shown her mistake.

She checks the calendar on her wall; she doesn’t have an appointment with her attorney and Miles isn’t coming for another two weeks.

She’s shackled and led to the row of phone cubbies, and her blood runs cold as she sits down to find Sean Townsend waiting for her on the other side of the glass.

~*~*~*~*~*~