#and like necessities and my cats. which I have to buy a couple things for like a new cat tower and stuff when I move

[dotster001]

Girlies End

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Choose Another Ending

Jamil's phone had been non stop ringing for the past ten minutes. Which was unfortunate, because he was trying to take notes for Kalim, who would definitely forget everything the cat was telling them.

"Our next step will be to have you slowly work your way into Y/N and my daily routine," Grim pointed a yardstick at step three on the whiteboard he was standing in front of. "Recommendations include, offering to buy my tuna, buying me regular gifts, purchasing necessities we need around Ramshackle, like a new deluxe mattress, or deluxe slippers, or carpeting so that I don't need the slippers. Really, you can just use your imagination here."

"What about a new diamond choker, that's super shiny, so Y/N always knows where you are?" Kalim asked excitedly.

"That's brilliant! It's ideas like that that prove you're the perfect match for Y/N!"

Jamil would normally have been livid. But he knew that someone like you would quickly see that Kalim wasn't as complex an individual as you needed. And he would be right there for you to fall for…

And if not…well…he'd gotten quite good at controlling his signature spell. He couldn't say he hadn't warned Grim. He was practically begging him to do it at this point!

"Will you please deal with that buzzing? Kalim and I can't think!" Grim suddenly shouted at Jamil, as his phone rang for the umpteenth time.

He scowled, before muttering a "be right back" and answering the phone in the hallway.

"What?" He snapped.

He quickly apologized upon hearing his mother's voice.

"I was just wondering if Najma was settling in all right?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Jamil asked, completely confused.

"Well, she said you had a guest room all set for her, but I just wanted to make sure she was comfy, and that you were both behaving."

"Wait, Najma is here?" Jamil had a terrible, horrible, feeling in his gut that he knew where she was. 

"She said she saw you-"

"You're right mom, sorry, I've been overwhelmed lately and just got confused for a moment." It was a terrible excuse, he just had to hope his mother would accept it.

"Alright, just make sure you get some rest. Tell Najma I love her, and to be good!"

He breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up the phone. Then he made a beeline to Ramshackle.

The door was cracked when he got there, so he just walked right in. And the first thing he saw was Najma making out with you, heavily, on the couch.

He cleared his throat, and Najma looked up, startled, before bursting into laughter. Confused, you looked up and covered your face with your hands.

He watched as you looked flustered, and mumbled nonsense as though trying to explain yourself. Najma just looked smug.

"Sup buttface?" she said.

"Jamil, I can explain!" You said.

"Nah, he knows now, babe, might as well tell him," Najma said, gently caressing your cheek. She turned back to Jamil.

"Y/N and I have been dating ever since they came to visit a couple months ago. We didn't tell you cause we knew you'd flip out."

"I-gah-I'm not flipping out! But why would you do this?!?!?"

You shrunk deeper into the couch, looking at Najma like she would protect you from Jamil's yelling. Najma continued to look smug, even in the face of danger.

"You're totally flipping out. But it's cool. I know it's cause you're jealous that I landed a hottie like Y/N, and you're gonna die miserable and alone."

Jamil frustratedly ran his hands through his hair.

"Najma…Y/N…gah! Y/N, you like girls?" 

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yeah, Y/N likes girls, now get out of here so I can keep making out with my partner," Najma didn't even wait for him to react, she just grabbed your face and resumed kissing you.

"Najma-"

"Y/N, tell Jamil to stop being a little freak, so I can keep kissing you," Najma said poutily against your neck.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jamil cut you off.

"I'm leaving! Sevens, if mom asks me if I've seen you though, I'm ratting you out."

Najma flipped him off as he left.

Once he exited the building, he leaned against the outer wall and groaned. Leave it to his sister to ruin everything he'd spent months planning. He shouldn't have even been surprised.

Oh well, he'd let you tell Grimm that he wouldn't spend his life living like a millionaire at the Asim household.

The End

[powderblueblood]

FOUR TIMES YOU WERE STRUCK INCAPABLE OF IMAGINING YOUR LIFE WITHOUT EDDIE MUNSON

(+ one, of the many, where he felt the same about you)

part of the hellfire & ice universe eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, you know the drill, minors dni only warnings are for fluff and eddie and lacy being cute and in denial word count: 2k tagging @chiefbonkpruneegg happy birthday pal <3 enjoy this nonsense

TRACK ONE: LET'S STICK WITH TELEVISION FOR TWO HUNDRED, ALEX

You and Eddie balance on either side of Ronnie Ecker's couch like faithful gargoyles, armed with soup and homework. Ronnie's caught the worst end of some green-gooed virus, so you two have taken it upon yourselves to deliver the necessities; tomato soup with extra hot sauce ("To snot out the demons," quoth Eddie) and history homework. But something on the television sucked you both right in, Poltergeist style, as you entered the Ecker trailer. Some hot young thing called Alex Trebek, captaining the maiden voyage of a brand new Jeopardy.

"You know who would kill on this show?" Eddie says, settling himself on the armrest to Ronnie's sniffling left.

"Guh, who?" Ronnie asks, huffing the steaming vapors of the spicy tomato soup like it's paint fumes.

You're pitched on the other armrest, pointing the rolled up history homework toward the screen. "What is the White H--US Treasury, are you fucking stupid?! Have these people never seen a twenty dollar bill before? What is the White House!"

You toss a glance over to Ronnie and Eddie for reassurance, just in time to catch them sharing a look. A good ol' Lacy know-it-all look. "Oh, shut up. as if I have more useless information rattling around in my brain than--"

Both you and Eddie snap at the TV in unison, "Who is Elvis Presley!"

Your turn to share a look. Game on? Game on.

It rolls on like that for a couple of categories, Ronnie sipping her soup straight from the container between you, hiding a smile as you and Eddie gradually bark louder and louder. Who are the Marx Brothers! What is 'break a leg'! Who was Napoleon!

"What, you're paying attention in History all of a sudden?"

"I'm a solid C student thanks to you, baby."

It occurs to you suddenly and begrudgingly and all at once; Eddie's right. You would kill on this show. But more than that, you want to wipe the floor and wring Eddie Munson out like the mop that he is.

"The greeting which opened each episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents."

"What is," both of you, in perfect Hitchcock tonality and without missing a beat, "Gooooood eeeeevening."

TRACK TWO: LIKE IF BECKY SHARP WAS FRIENDS WITH A BIG GOOFY HOUND DOG

Your first honest-to-god paycheck from the Bookstore was a fat wad of tens and singles plus change and it was handed to you in a brown paper bag. Invest this wisely, said Ivana, so of course, you followed your heart and your hard earned cash directly to the thrift store.

The front bell ding-a-lings and you walk through the door holding your moneybag aloft like the biggest, blue ribbon winning-est gourd at the county fair. You are proud as hell, because you did this! On your own! This isn't your daddy's money, this isn't the result of a once-toyed with idea that you might make a really good cat burglar, this was yours all yours!

"Put that down already! It's like you're wearing a sign saying mug me!" Eddie, bringing up the rear, yanks your arm back down by your side.

You laugh, mirthful and Hepburnian. "More like try me! I'm a working woman now, Eddie! I can hold my own! I can buy boots, guilt free, no strings, no blood money!"

"Uh-huh. consider that glass ceiling of having an after school job well and truly," he picks up a lamp from the scarcely populated homewares section, mimes slow-motion smashing it, "shattered!"

"Plus!" you cheerily pivot on your heel, a spring in your step that cannot be unsprung, even by Eddie's welcome to the real world, jackass flavored attempts. "Who would ever dare try and rob me when I've got a big, tough guard doggy like you three feet behind me at all times?"

Eddie's eyes narrow, like he's not all the way peachy keen on how you've pointed out your inseparability. But. He doesn't deny it either. A broken-stringed tennis racket bops you on the head.

"You owe me gas money."

"Shut up, please. I am shopping."

TRACK THREE: BUSTER MOVES

We'll always have the movies.

You sit, glassy-eyed, in your regular seats at the Hawk as The Cook starring Buster Keaton ticks along on the screen ahead of you. This Keaton retrospective, which you had been looking forward to for weeks, which you had been threatening to drag Eddie to for weeks, is going down a little... bland.

Not even that over-the-shoulder gaze that has Keaton beaming lasers of lust right into Virginia Rappe's skull adds any spice. You don't even bring up the whole scandal with her and Fatty Arbuckle, which would ordinarily be fertile territory to plow through with Eddie as a rapt audience.

In fact, you don't even tell him to kick his feet off the seats.

You've zoned out, because you still have the chill of the penitentiary's visiting quarters under your skin. Your dad and his cruelty that the bulletproof glass couldn't dull. The usual escape to the movies bit isn't doing the trick.

Then, you feel shaggy waves tickling your shoulder.

"I can do that."

"What?"

Directly in front of you, Buster is giving it his best Salome, his dance moves all angles. This display of pure deadpan goofiness was what made you obsess over Keaton in the first place, falling head over heels for a man who kicked it long before you were born.

And to your immediate left, you have Eddie Munson in your ear, telling you, "I can do that."

"No you can't," you say, and it doesn't sound like half the challenge it usually would.

Then, in a jolt that makes the whole row of rickety theater seats shake, Eddie's on his feet and stripping off his jacket. And before you can utter some totally perfunctory what're you... he's hot footing it down the steps to the splash zone, the front row, of the screen.

"You know I've seen this movie a million times?" Eddie says, projecting his voice right out like he's performing a one man show. Munson: Meditations on Dumbassery. You sit upright, glancing around to double-triple check that you're definitely alone in the screen. And you are-- Hawkins doesn't have as much a taste for the non-talkies as you do. And you were pretty sure that Eddie didn't either, and yet...

"Are you serious?" you ask, a laugh starting at the back of your throat.

"Does this look like a call and response? Let the maestro work, please," Eddie chides you over his shoulder, turning his back and hopping in place like a boxer about to take the ring.

And then, all of a sudden, he's... dancing? Sort of? Well, he's certainly moving his body, but it's nothing like what Buster's doing, and it's nothing like anyone's ever possibly done and not been hospitalized for, because the way his limbs are moving is borderline inhuman and you are laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing in a way that feels like Eddie reaching right through the fog of your horrible, dissociative feelings and bringing you back into the light.

You toss popcorn at him and he totally fails to catch it in his mouth, his face lit up in shades of black and white by the projection.

"A million times, huh?"

Eddie, breathless, shrugs, "Alright, I lied. But you laughed."

Point to Munson.

TRACK FOUR: LIBERATING MY MAGAZINES

It was a favor that he'd agreed to before you even offered to buy him breakfast after, a favor that didn't need sweetening up. As his van rolled into Loch Nora, Eddie's brows knit a little bit-- and you wondered how much of him regretted saying yes so hastily.

"On a scale of one to felony..."

Your house hadn't been sold yet. Repossessed, sure, but not sold. It stood there, darkened and quiet and gathering dust and the sheer sight of it being the only house on your street with an overgrown lawn made your chest feel tight. You bet the neighbors had something to say about that. You bet the neighbors had a lot to say about you. Curtains were no doubt twitching when you and Eddie pulled up in front of your old driveway.

"It's fine. It's my stuff, anyway."

About a half hour later, Eddie drops a pile of slightly-weather beaten copies of Rolling Stone bearing your name and old address onto a table in the diner, the remnants of your now-cancelled subscription.

"You gotta wonder what they're putting in that new print format that kept those things from totally composting."

"Thank god they didn't! I need to finish that Tom Wolfe serial or I'll die," you declare as he picks up a menu and you rifle through the pile. "Order whatever. It's on me."

Eddie snorts. You're still carting around that dwindling brown bag of cash. "You don't have to do that."

"No," you say, eyes darting around to anywhere but his face, "but I want to. For helping me to liberate my magazines."

"Lace. I'd happily liberate your magazines without the promise of pancakes," his mouth twists into this little grin you can't help but think of as sweet, "but they do help."

"Order enough to keep us here for a while," you say, and pass him a Rolling Stone.

The next while passes silently between you two, passing issues back and forth until one of you picks out something the two of you can fight about. Eddie twists his rings around when he's reading; you gather this from the looks you keep sneaking.

It feels eerily relaxed. Slightly domestic. And by the end, over-caffeinated with the way you two are soundlessly cackling over an imagined world where the cover of Springsteen's Born in the USA isn't an ass shot, but a full-frontal dick shot. "But where does he put the flag?!"

It's one way to kill a Saturday.

SECRET SONG: SWAPPING NOTES

In the relentless waves of the morning crush to get to his next class, he almost misses you-- just like he'd like to almost miss this next class. But then, there you are with freshly-manicured nails digging into his elbow.

For whatever reason, you've taken it upon yourself to make sure that Eddie Munson doesn't skip! At least, where you can help it.

"Yoohoo! Spanish is this way," you say, reorienting him in the right direction in that insistent little way that you do. Eddie's pretty sure that if he sat on you, you'd snap, yet he lets you completely manipulate his clearly superior physical strength anyway.

"We're not in Spanish together!" he tries, a last ditch to get you to turn around so he can ditch.

"No, but French is juste par là so you are pas de chance, my friend!" you tell him with a stare that says I've been tracking your movements like a hunter, dumbass. See my big spear? From that gargantuan folder you're clutching, you dig out a paper. "I have that thing you wanted me to look at."

"Sssshut up, I don't need everyone to know," Eddie flushes. It's not homework he begged to copy from you for once. It is actually this comparative essay that he actually thinks he might not have completely screwed up. But he kind of wanted a professional not-screwer-upper-of-homework's point of view, so... that's why your little red pen marks are all over it.

"Why, whose reputation am I sparing?" He sees your point. You are basically walking arm in arm with him. You. "But, y'know, I was right about you! The thought is there, the execution just needs a little fine tuning."

"So it was..."

"Not amazing! But not awful. I've done my edits and you can just copy as per-- but absorb them, please, okay? Learn something?"

Eddie's head rolls back on his neck with this petulant groan and he almost clocks a freshman at elbow level, shaking his arms in total frustration. God, now you were giving him homework on top of his homework? He should have just paid you to do the homework!

"I hate when you want me to better myself! Shit!"

"Well!" you say, in that bright, adorable, annoyingly-self satisfied way, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't see potential, so suck on that."

[chaibewriting]

HANDS OFF! ft. street rat! shota aizawa (aladdin au) x feisty! noble! dom! fem! afab! reader

-> NOTES: street rat! shota aizawa pickpockets the wrong noblewoman and pays the price in more ways than one. i wrote this without much thought or brain meats so im sorry if its not my best work 🙇🏾

-> WARNINGS: hypnosis, dubcon, gagging, unprotected sex, virigin aizawa (bc i said so), dry humping, unedited and unbeta read cause i’m lazy

THE human body needed a few basic things in order to survive, even at the bare minimal, one of those necessities happened to be food. And unfortunately, mainly due to his lack of social ranking in the hierarchy, a young scoundrel by the name of Shota was forced to heavily rely on his abilities to get his next meal. And no, they’re not any kind of special ability— unless you consider pickpocketing and pawning to be something special, then fuck just call him Superman.

Interrupted from his thoughts, the shaggy dark-haired man pressed a hand onto his stomach, grunting at the rumble that was embarrassingly loud. A few passerbys in the streets had walked past him with rather weary looks, shuffling away from him while clinging onto their belongings. He barely spared them a glance, knowing that there was a much more interesting target just up ahead.

This woman was wearing something custom made, something he’d never seen before, which brought him to the justified assumption that she was rich. And if he played his cards correctly, he could swipe a couple things from her that he could pawn off and have enough to not only feed himself for the next couple of nights but also enough to buy some food for the stray cats he’s ‘adopted’ that he often finds lingering around in alleys. He had plenty of experience with pickpocketing, it didn’t matter who his target was he always landed his mark and got away without a scratch.

So… how exactly did he end up in this predicament?

That was his first mistake.

Shota had picked up the speed of his stride, soon closing in on you from behind without trying to look too suspicious, making it seem as if he was simply trying to pass you to get to his next destination as quickly as possible. It should have been easy. It was always easy for him, but you apparently decided to rip the rug from right under his feet, catching him redhanded when he attempted to dig his hand into your pocket after brushing past you. You grabbed onto his wrist and pulled it up towards the sky, eyeing your wallet that was encased between his fingers. The lazy street rat was stunned, staring at you in shock and a tad bit of fear of what was going to happen next. He had been doing quite a decent job at evading the authorities but if he were to be turned in right now they would no doubt execute him. He had to get away, but how were you so fucking strong?

“My, my, my… Who do we have here? I think I’ve seen you before… On the wanted posters in the little nooks and crannies I go to get my liquor.” You hummed, continuing to grasp his wrist without budging, even with him constantly trying to pry your hand away or jerk back. “Listen, lady, I’ll give you your damn wallet back, just let me go already.” Shota hissed, suddenly feeling you squeeze at his wrist while narrowing your eyes at him, causing him to unconsciously shudder under your harsh and calculated gaze. “I don’t think so. You caught me at the perfect time, i’ve been looking for a young little thing like you for me to release my frustration. Perhaps we should speak more privately, hm?” You offer, though you give no room for arguments or even agreement as you’re suddenly tugging him towards a nearby alley. The people on the street have taken notice of the two of you but shrugged it off, figuring that you were probably just going to teach the scoundrel a much needed lesson, which you technically were.

Shoving the youngster up against the wall after releasing his wrist, a hum came from your throat as you caged him in, leaving no room for him to slip away from you. He was forced to feel your body press up against his, causing his face to redden ever so slightly as he glanced at you, attempting to intimidate you even though he was the one being intimidated.

Leaning back slightly, you reached into one of your dress pockets and pulled out a solid gold pocket watch that was worth a pretty penny or two. Immediately, his eyes left from your face and went to the pocket watch that was enough to keep him fed for months on end, maybe even years.

That was his second mistake.

“Watch the watch, and repeat after me, darling.” You demanded, though your voice was laced in honey and danger, unfortunately for Shota he was unable to break his gaze from the swinging watch and slowly felt himself slipping into some kind of unconscious yet /conscious/ state, causing him to fully let down his guard as he listened to the words that came from your glossed lips.

“‘I am now Lady Y/N’s property. I give all my rights to her. I was made to please her and only her.”

His mouth moved without his permission as he parroted the words back to her, causing a triumphant grin to spread across her lips. “That’s enough. What’s your name, boy?”

“Aizawa Shota.”

…

After performing some basic-level hypnosis on the unsuspecting street rat, getting him back to your place was as easy as leading a dog on a leash. You never expected that it would be so easy to get him to follow after you, most would have put up more of a fight, but now he was just following you around like a lovesick puppy.

Once you’d entered your home, you instructed him to take off his shoes and leave them at the door, doing the same for yourself before venturing further into the house.

Afterwards, you promptly led him to your bedroom, beckoning him with a finger to continue following behind you, which he did. As soon as he entered the bedroom behind you, you pointed towards the luxurious-looking bed and spoke.

“Sit, and wait, Shota.”

He did just that, watching you with those same loveisck puppy eyes that followed after you every step of the way, waiting for your next command. Simultaneously, you shrugged off your coat and placed it onto a nearby table, humming a random tune you’d heard in a tavern some nights ago, thinking through what you wanted to do next. You were interested in trying out your usual approach, wondering how he’d look starfishing and gagged.

Slipping into your closet, you found the medium-sized chest that sat on the floor and pulled it out, opening it up to remove a few specially made silk wraps from inside of it. With your new findings, you turned towards the bed where Shota still sat, he was awake, but he held no hint of emotion in his face, still heavily under the influence of your hypnosis which seemed to please you quite a bit.

“Stand up and strip for me.”

With ease, the unfortunate prey you’d sunk your claws into stood onto his feet and began to remove his tattered clothing (you’d have to burn those later), your eager eyes taking note of every inch of his exposed body. Even though he looked a bit malnourished and lanky, no doubt from not eating an adequate amount of food each day, he didn’t exactly look fragile. So, that meant you wouldn’t have to worry about breaking him just yet. You eyed the excessive amount of body hair that he had spread all over his body, it wasn’t unwelcome of course, you did enjoy the look of a rugged man crumbling at your feet, after all.

Walking towards him, you placed hand onto his chest and pushed him back onto the bed, watching in interest as his flaccid cock slapped back against his stomach with the sudden movement. You were eager to toy with him and you couldn’t do that if he was still mindlessly under your control, however, you still had to remain in control of him. And you always had the perfect solution. Balling the silk wraps up until you got the perfect sphere of fabric, you instructed him to open his mouth, shoving the fabric into it as soon as his lips parted. You heard him instinctively gag around it and grinned afterwards. Now, here was where the real fun began. With a hum, you snapped you fingers and watched as the cloudy mist in his dark eyes began to clear up. He looked around in confusion for a moment before his gaze landed on you and where you stood, over him at the very edge of the bed. And then he spoke. Or tried to at least.

“Whah eer wuu zoo…” He tried, mumbling against the silk in his mouth, after hearing himself struggle to speak his brows furrowed and he began reaching to take the foreign fabric from his mouth. You stopped him, clicking your tongue in dissatisfaction. “Oh no no, Shota. Don’t you remember what we discussed in the alley? You’re my property now, and you can’t just go around making decisions on your own, darling. You’ll keep that in your mouth until I say so.”

You sighed afterwards and began to undo your blouse, already eyeing his body with glee and interest. “Now, if you’re good and help me release my stress from this week… maybe I’ll take the gag out. Think you can do that for me? Ah, actually, I know you can.” You purred, a small smile revealing itself on your face as you peeled off your blouse and slid your skirt off as well, stepping out of it so that you were left in only your undergarments.

With slightly desperate movements and the speed of a huntress in heat, you crawled on top of Shota, watching as his eyes widened in surprise and his face burned crimson. This caused a thought to come to mind as you planted yourself right on his cock, sandwiching it between your clothed cunt and his own hollowing belly.

“Oh dear… Are you a virgin, Shota?”

The blush on his face only increased tenfold at your question and he quickly shook his head, attempting to dissuade you from such a suggestion. It didn’t matter to you anyways, but it would have been all the more entertaining if he was.

…

Getting Shota hard was not a difficult feat, especially not with you constantly rutting against his cock at a steady pace, effectively making your own pool of arousal start to drench your panties, mingling with the beads of precum that dribbled from his tip and landed onto his stomach. The sounds of his sweet muffled moans had urged you to move faster and rougher with your movements, the friction on resulting in your own moans as well. After you’d done your job, you rolled off of him, making him whine in need for you as you laid onto your back and stretched out your limbs, laughing at him.

“Don’t get all pissy now, I’ve done my job so its only fair that you do yours now.” You mused, laying comfortably on your back while pushing your bra up over your breast, letting them fall free from the contraption. “C’mon and put it in, I know you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Show me how good you are.” You urged, shifting around a bit to slide your underwear down until they were tossed away, exposing your soaked core and throbbing notch of nerves.

Many things came into play, a mix of hormones and hypnosis caused the pick pocketer to quickly sit up, gag still in his mouth, and get between your legs, mot even trying to hide his eager as he stared at your inviting entrance, his angry tip getting even angrier. With interest and clear amusement, you watched him closely as he grabbed the base of his cock and began to line himself up with your entrance, prodding at your folds with the tip, almost as if he was uncertain about where he was supposed to put it. It was almost cute, but you were getting a tad bit impatient, hooking your legs around his hips to bring him forcibly towards you, making him sink into you with ease and with little to no resistance.

While your moans were a bit more restrained and shaky, his moans were still muffled but were exceptionally whinier. He had fallen forward but quickly caught himself before he could crash on top of you, holding himself up by pressing his hands in the bed on either sides of your body. You’d pulled him closer until he completely bottomed out, his balls flush against your ass as he was fully inside you, kissing your cervix with his bulbous tip. You could have sworn you felt him throbbing inside of you. You probably did.

Shota, on the other hand, was on the verge of trembling and crying from pleasure, the sudden warmth and wetness closing around him and effectively trapping him in place, his eyes closed as his face only doubled with heat. He was sure he was going to cum if he moved even an inch. This felt even better than fucking his fist. A man could become addicted to this.

Simultaneously, you enjoyed the feeling of fullness but were waiting for him to move, watching him intently. When he made no effort or showed no signs of movement, you huffed, unhooking your legs from his hips and grunting at him. “What are you waiting for? The sun to set? Hurry up and move already, I’m growing impa- oh!” You were cut off by the feeling of him pulling out and slamming back into you, which was soon followed by a series of amateur jabs at your womb, repeatedly filling you with his thick veiny cock over and over again, the bird’s nest of his pubes consistently brushing over your clit with him bottoming out each and every time.

Even if he was an amateur with his thrusts, his dick was big enough to hit some delicious spots inside of your gummy walls that made you a bit delirious. You weren’t the only one, however, with the way he was still groaning and muttering praises that made no sense thanks to the gag in his mouth. As he fucked into you like an obedient and needy whore, you rubbed at your clit in rough circular motions, a string of curses leaving your lips as you enjoyed every second of the snap of his needy hips.

“Veels zooo gooo…” He complimented, though you didn’t know what he was saying exactly as he continued his speedy pace, the bed singing and creaking from the intensity of his assault on your drooling pussy.

This continued for a tad bit longer, as long as he could manage at least, before he mewled aloud, leaning over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “Mm hmm gmm…!” Suddenly, you felt heat shoot up into your awaiting walls that had been milking him since the moment you forced him to sink his cock in you, painting you sloppily with white. He’d slammed all the way into you to release his seed in you, not letting a drop escape as he laid out on top of you in exhaustion, forcing you to stop rubbing your clit.

You allowed him a second to collect himself, feeling the cold sweat on his body sink into yours as he remained laying on top of you, still buried inside of you. Lightly, you patted his back in an affectionate manner and spoke up. “We’re not done yet darling, I still haven’t cum yet.” That, made him stiffen up, and you almost felt his cock harden again inside of you like the command was enough to spur him on for another round.

“ineeding…. foooo… ooo.” Was the last thing he tiredly panted through the gag before he lifted his hips just a tad bit, burying his knees into the bed before he began lazily pounding into you yet again, the harsh slap of skin on skin being heard well into the night.

Well… he’d never be pickpocketing again, that’s for sure.

[turtlemagnum]

been thinking a lot about vtmb. it's occurred to me that if you're immortal, you're probably gonna need at least a single hobby if you don't wanna go insane from boredom, so here's my thoughts on that so far:

jack seems like the kinda guy who'd get way into blacksmithing/woodworking and stuff to that effect. partially based on vibes, but i could also see it serving a practical purpose as a vampire. kinda doubt you could just go to any old store and buy a silver knife to protect yourself from a werewolf with, or a wooden stake.

this literally just came to me in a dream and i'm not entirely sure how accurate it'd be, i think nines rodriguez might be like, weirdly into needlepoint? seems as good of a way to kill time as any, i suppose. in my dream he made a little picture of a cat with it. also, given how his name seems to be a reference to the guns he carries, maybe he's a bit of a gun nut? might be less of a hobby and more of a necessity though

i don't think it's known how recent of a vampire damsel is, but based off of vibes i'd guess relatively new, probably some time between nines turning during the great depression and the "present"(2004). either way, she strikes me as the kind of person who'd have been an omnivorous reader even before being turned, and given the amount of free time you'd have being immortal, she's probably read every political book on earth. she's the kind of gal to not only know who gramsci is, but to have read all of his works and have a deeply opinionated view on it all; though i couldn't say what because im not im not a FUCKING NERD (joke)

i feel like jeanette's main hobby is fairly obvious, but with therese i'm not so sure. i feel i could see her doing some ghost writing for a bad mystery novel or something, but part of me wants to just say that taking care of the asylum is her Whole Fuckin Life, y'know.

lacroix also gives off the vibes of an omnivorous reader, but he'd be more of the type to read those How To Manipulate People And Make Them Like You kindsa books, or things of that sorta vibe. if you could imagine the average CEO recommending it, he'd probably read it. whether it's out of a genuine desire to improve his skills, or to laugh at how bad the humans are at it, i leave up to your interpretation. if you asked him about it, he'd probably say something supremely condescending about how hobbies might be vital for those who have nothing better to do with their lives, and how he has his hands full with the city.

VV. writing poetry comes to mind, i actually quite liked what she wrote in the emails. she's probably read a fair amount of poetry in her time, assuming that she's not just Naturally talented (most people aren't). she doesn't quite strike me as omnivorous, but i feel as though she'd like stuff with a tendency towards flowery language and romance as a theme, being a toreador and all

gary. film buff, and also probably watches porn recreationally. not in the same way that a normal person does, but in the way one might watch animal planet

ming xiao was always courteous to me and frankly, right up to the end she struck me as not that bad and arguably something of a straight shooter; though judging from looking up the kuei jin ending i was just being manipulated (which, to be fair, is nothing new for this game). her characterization seems mostly to be polite, albeit manipulative, and generally intelligent to her core. not sure what hobbies might entirely entail from that, but i'm gonna go with a kneejerk reaction and say strategy games like chess or go, and reading philosophy books. seems like a good guess, at least; though i'll admit that we don't seem to have A Ton to go off of. unsure if that was intentional as her like, not wanting to show her hand too much, or if the writers just didn't have enough time to characterize her as much as they'd have liked (or even if they just didn't put that much thought into it)

there's a couple that are pretty straightforward imo. strauss and beckett are deeply immersed in their respective scholarly fields (magic and history, respectively). in terms of minor characters, officer chunk probably spends most of his free time watching tv, wong ho gives off the vibes of someone who'd be way into something specific but fairly normal (like sports or video games), tseng is a gunfucker (bro, same), fat larry's probably into basketball given his jersey, so on

there are a few characters i either didn't meet, get to know too well, or have much to say on. never met heather or yukie. skelter was angry at me from when i first met him and got even angrier the second time i tried to talk to him, and since i don't like people being angry at me and i didn't see any way i could change his mind i just didn't try (gonna see how that goes second playthrough though, since apparently there is more to his character. maybe it had something to do with how my first playthrough was with a ventrue?). venus is pleasant but i didn't catch much of a vibe of what she'd be into, probably just drinking and domming.

[jae-duhb]

Electro Archon & Fox Wife

I've seen this type of AU—archon!Tomo and nine-tailed fox!Kazuha—talked about before, and it's not that I have anything new to say; it's just a couple headcanons.

Like, Tomo's electric aura causes Kazuha's hair to become staticky; so, he turns into a big puffball sometimes. It can also linger for a period of time, and sakura blooms will stick all over him, much to Tomo's amusement and his chagrin.

Kazuha does NOT act as the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine. He's too busy being the Electro Archon's keeper, which is a 24/7 job. He's also Tomo's little wife; so, yeah, he's gonna be by his husband's side more than anywhere else.

The Raiden twins, Ei and Makoto, work directly under Kazuha and help him manage Inazuma's governance. Y'can't trust Tomo to do it bc he'll do things at a snail's pace. If it's not that, then he's FORGOTTEN about the Thing™ altogether.

The twins are probably why the Madame of Tenshukaku hasn't collapsed from overworking yet.

He's super on the ball when it comes to festival organization, tho. The faster that gets done, the more time there is to drag Kazuha around to all the different festive activities. That means it's safe to say the Yashiro Commission is very close to their archon.

Since "raiden" belongs to the twins as a surname, I'd rather Tomo's formal title NOT be Raiden Shogun. He might just go by "The Almighty Shogun" bc I can't think of anything cool and doesn't sound too edgy.

He's also called the God of Dreams. His storms over Inazuma are not as violent as the ones he upholds out around the surrounding ocean. The patter of rain and gentle roll of thunder lull the ppl into restful slumber. Nightmares dare not pierce the protective storm of a god to disturb them.

Don't tell Kazuha, but Tomo does, in fact, have an obnoxious collection of cat-related items. No, it's not clutter! No, he's not a hoarder! Please don't throw them away, Kaede-hime!

In equal measure, don't tell TOMO that Kazuha has a series of journals filled w haiku that do nothing but praise the hell outta his husband. The Electro Archon doesn't need a bigger ego than he already has. That, and he might cry.

The mandatory Booba Sword is here, except Tomo wields a claymore made from one of Kazuha’s tails.

He had it commissioned when Tomo returned from the Archon War as one of the seven victors. (He was there, actually; he made sure his handsome himbo stayed alive.)

Ofc, this all happened secretly; so, when Tomo saw his foxy babe short one beautiful tail, he thought somebody assaulted him. After many “calm down’s,” hugs, and kisses, Kazuha managed to explain himself. Kazuha: It’ll grow back, okay? Now, stop worrying! Tomo: Kazu-chaaaan! 😫

In case ya wanted to know, Kazuha still wields a sword and the power of anemo.

Tama the Cat exists and is a recent addition to their home, but Tomo carries her everywhere. He also demands the Shogunate staff address her as Tama-sama. Kazuha refuses, but he buys her hella fancy cat necessities. He will also personally cook her fish.

Tomo and Venti trade alcohol frequently (when Venti’s actually around) and try to out-drink each other. They bicker about how to best ENJOY alcohol, too.

Kazuha just shakes his head right along w Zhongli. He can’t really say much, tho, bc he likes a good drink just as much as they do. He’s simply more delicate w his approach (and doesn’t drink anywhere NEAR as much).

Tomo calls Kazuha every nickname under the sun, ranging from the cutesy Kazu-chan to the more refined Kaede-hime; but there is one name, one moniker, that he's never said in front of him unless it was in a formal setting: The Madame of Tenshukaku.

You'll only ever hear those words in succession if Tomo's whining in your ear after the kitsune gave him a good scolding. It almost sounds like he's referring to a demon or monster. Tomo: Ei, the Madame of Tenshukaku has struck again! Take pity on this poor archon! Ei: Your Excellency, please make haste. The meeting is in five minutes. Tomo: *audible gasp, face of betrayal* The Madame has taken you, too!

Kazuha doesn't really use nicknames. He just addresses Tomo as "Your Excellency" and "Lord Shogun" like everyone else, even if they're alone in private. Occasionally, Tomo can coax him into calling him something like "Tomo-dono," but it's still not casual enough for him. He'd rather his wife drop the honorifics altogether when it's just them. Tomo: You'll call Tama "Tama," but you can't call me Tomo? Kazuha: She's a cat, you're the ELECTRO ARCHON, Your Excellency. Tomo: Yeah, but you're also my WIFE, and I permit you to call me by my name when we're alone!

The reality is that Kazuha prefers the proper forms of address bc it reminds him that Tomo has risen to the highest position someone on their level can reach and earned his seat amongst the Seven. He's just so proud! Tomo still wants to hear his name, tho. Sometimes, he wonders if he'll forget his own name bc no one'll hardly say it these days.

[funkymbtifiction]

How an EP “Plans”

I thought I’d write something up to illustrate what it’s like being an EFP, since some of you aren’t aware of how the functional dynamics / overall behavior aspect of an individual type works. This is highly ENFP but also characteristic of an extroverted perceiving dominant.

I host “high teas” in my home at least four times a year for my intimate friends. Thing is, while I love hosting teas… there’s also a certain amount of anxiety involved in having a ‘settled plan.’ The notion of planning things extensively in advance causes me stress, because there are so many decisions to be made. There are choices between types of mini sandwiches, on what kind of quiche to serve, which scones will best suit the rest of the options, on finalizing the desert options (and making sure not everything is the same color or all has dairy in it). Those things are fun, but also something you have to plan to ‘test run’ in advance, which means scheduling them in ahead of time with enough room to spare so if you hate one option, you can try another.

Whenever I am in the process of doing this, my lower Te feels “pressed for time.” I get it done in advance, but feel anxiety about an encroaching deadline looming ahead of me with “so many things to do to get ready!” I make a loose menu and look for options at the store a couple of days before the event. If I see something that would work better, I buy it. I wait until the last minute to do housework, to prepare the food, and to decide how to set the table, because… it just… works at the last minute. I’m a perceiving dominant. Adaptability, changing my mind, and ‘flying by the seat of my pants’ is how I roll. But the idea of setting a firm commitment, a date, and having it loom toward me gives me angst. And yet, it makes all my SJ guests feel safe, and gives them something to look forward to. I provide the necessities as my inferior Si dictates – pretty table, pretty food and plenty of it.

When I went to a Regency tea hosted by an ISFJ, she had planned it all down to the smallest detail with a spreadsheet where she crossed things off. She had chosen appropriate music and flowers for the occasion. She had specific ideas about how it should look, taste, feel, and be. And she was pretty chill about it, except at the last minute, because that’s when things can go wrong and J types can get more anxious, whereas an EP just goes “eh, it’s fine, we can use this other tablecloth. I didn’t want to iron the white one anyway. :P”

I’ve seen this extend into how I handle my days, as well. I like to have a loose plan that I came up with myself (“I want to get these things done”) and then wing it as I prefer, prioritizing the “most important thing” (which is often my writing / editing). I can be flexible and adapt to unexpected circumstances, but I do like to feel some measure of control over my schedule. And it needs to be loose. I will  power through things at an incredible speed to get them done and crossed off my list. My ISTJ mother forced me to make a commitment yesterday in painting two walls in my room that I had been procrastinating about for months, because she wanted to help and only had a few hours to spare. So I had to make a commitment if I wanted assistance. Most people would dither around and take the weekend to paint a room. I got it done in 8 hours, all my furniture put back, and went to sleep in a normal, put-together space that kept me and my cats happy (my sinuses, not so much). I just decide on a whim to do something and power through it in little time. It’s a tert-Te super-power, like the time I decided at the last minute to make a friend a friendship album and got it done in 2 days.

I can frustrate other people, because I’m noncommittal, especially if it involves a long-term engagement. Always in the back of my mind is, “What if I get bored doing this for months on end?” If I join a Bible Study or a book club, I want to know when it’s going to end (6 weeks?) so I know where the escape hatch is. I can be “meh” if someone asks me to do something at the last minute, because I haven’t had time to mentally prepare for it, but I’m quite flexible in adapting when things go wrong. I just shrug and adjust my approach, the same as I would if I wrote myself into a corner in a novel and had to change everything two chapters back to make it work. I decided last week that chapter ten in my book was “dull.” I had one character with nothing to do, and not much of a preclimax, so I rewrote it. The character now accompanies another character on an ‘adventure’ that ties into the plot, but it rendered all that characters’ scenes in the next two chapters obsolete. It doesn’t bother me, though, because I can easily rewrite those two chapters to accommodate his absence, without hurting the overall structure of the story – it will be better as a result.

This is the strength of high Ne. Making it up as you go along, with confidence it will work, because it always does. It may not turn out how I planned it in the first place, but that’s fine because the plan was never fixed. I get things done in short energy bursts, but working on something too long bores me. Deadlines serve as catalysts for the final energy push needed to get me to finish something.

Being who I am also makes work easier. I have a job where it’s mostly doing just a few things here and there for days on end, and then a big ‘push’ right before an editorial deadline to get everything done. I do in 2 days what used to take an ISJ a week, because I work fast, I can rearrange an entire magazine as needed at the last minute, and work well right up against the deadline.

Hope that sheds a little insight into what it’s like to be an EP type.

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[aniseandspearmint]

I posted 5,417 times in 2021

128 posts created (2%)

5289 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 41.3 posts.

I added 6,667 tags in 2021

#lols - 1467 posts

#video - 1393 posts

#has sound - 863 posts

#art - 766 posts

#current events 2021 - 586 posts

#cats - 392 posts

#pretty pretty - 384 posts

#no sound - 287 posts

#dogs - 286 posts

#food stuff - 243 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and time travel plus disillusionment with the current socio-political climate and a nice examination of past events juxtaposed onto the now?

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I just pulled out our winter necessities because it is well and truly getting COLD here (and we have no heat aside from a few space heaters) and there’s a problem.

Our electric blankets are not working. Mine seems just dead in the water, no lights coming on when I plug it in. Moms.... Looks like the cord cracked up at the base of the controls? I’m not even gonna TRY to plug that in. *visions of tripped breakers and/or FIRE*

So we need to replace them. Which is... Not cheap. I can do without mine (it’s fine, I can sleep in three layers), but mom REALLY needs hers.

This year was NOT GREAT for sudden large expenses. Among some smaller things dying and needing to be replaced, our fridge died in August and that was a 100% necessary use of our saved funds. 300 dollars for a decent none rusty or moldy used replacement. Now the property taxes are due and we’ve handled that via talking to the guy we’re buying the house from (he’s paying it and we’re tacking 100 bucks onto our house payments for a while), but we’re pretty much broke this month. 

So, yeah, we just don’t have enough to replace the blanket and buy the usual things we need for the month.

If anyone could help out a bit, I’d be forever grateful.

I’ve created a registry HERE (wal-mart) with a handful of basics, and a couple of the heated blankets up for comparison if anyone wants to know how much they cost (I’m not expecting anyone to actually get those, don’t worry, lols). There’s also a coat and some slippers I noticed mom dropping back into the ‘save for later’ section under the cart.

58 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 15:16:20 GMT

#4

yanno, i think one of the (many MANY) reasons the sequel tril sucked so bad is that they somehow felt the need to up the ante and make things worse for all the characters?

like, my dudes, you did not have to do that. It’s STAR WARS. The galaxy already mostly sucks. The good guys are a literal drop in the bucket. A candle in the night. One small group of people trying to make the galaxy suck a tiny bit less.

The bad things did not go away once the empire was defeated and none of the fans expected it to. Rampant slavery is still a thing, tons of space racism, lots of ecological and cultural exploitation of newly discovered worlds (Prime Directive? That’s Star Trek, baby. New species and planets are sink or swim in the GFFA. Usually sink). The splintered remnants of the empire were still there making things worse in separate pockets of awful.

They could have created entertaining, compelling movies just by having the heroes continue the fight.

‘course, that would have necessitated a fucking PLAN.

58 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 20:16:03 GMT

#3

Holding Out for a Hero - Hildegard von Blingin’ & Whitney Avalon

this is amazing. And so cool that it’s not just an instrumental adaptation! There’s EXCELLENT vocals!

80 notes • Posted 2021-11-08 04:20:11 GMT

#2

i’ve been thinking about talking about this for a while, trying to find the exact right way to phrase things, but idk i’m just gonna ramble and hope someone catches my drift here.

I’ve been seeing lots of groups doing private outreach to homeless people, things like making bagged lunches for them and bags of toiletries.

This is VERY good. Cool stuff. THANK YOU.

There are some issues tho. Things I think people might not be considering when they do this.

First is, the food I’m seeing most often is Peanut butter and Jelly sandwiches. I know peanut butter is cheap, it lets you make lots of bagged lunches. The problem here is there are approximately 3 million people allergic to peanuts in the united states alone. I know, off the top of my head, about twenty people with mild to severe peanut allergies. The chances of you handing out a sandwich to someone that just can’t eat it is higher than you’d think.

I’m not saying don’t use peanut butter! I’m not. Just- ASK the people your handing food out to about allergies. Don’t just toss them/hand them a bag and walk away.

And have a few alternate bags ready. Prepare something else (bologna, cheese, canned chicken, etc), in a separate area to avoid cross-contamination. 

Another mistake I see people making is handing out bagged lunches in summer with condiments already on the bread. Unless the sandwiches are refrigerated, the mayo WILL curdle and make the sandwich inedible within an hour or so. So you wasted the food, the person you gave it to will have to throw it away or risk getting sick eating it (think about the last time food made you sick, and think about not having immediate access to a restroom or somewhere safe to rest while being that sick). If you’re making a sandwich that requires mayo or mustard, get some little packets to toss in, I’m begging you. If you can, see if you can find some of those little disposable icepacks. Last I checked you could still buy them for under a dollar.

Most importantly, and wow this is really hard to phrase right, I’m giving it a go and I’m gonna try not to get too emotional here. When you’re making these, when you’re preparing food bag at a foodbank, when you’re cooking and plating out food for a meal program, think about what YOU would want to eat. Like, I’m seeing some of these church groups and outreach whatevers handing out food I would honest to god not give a dog with the attitude that, ‘oh, these people are homeless, they’ll take whatever we give them and be grateful!’ 

Yeah, no, can’t not get emotional, sorry.

It pisses me off SO MUCH.

No.

No no NO. How DARE they say that shit about another person, standing there all sanctimonious as they hand someone who might not have eaten anything in DAYS a plate of undercooked unseasoned potato chunks and unseasoned green beans and turkey they cooked (overcooked) the day before and not even bothered to reheat. Of course the person will take it, eat it, they haven’t eaten after all, but it kills them just a bit more inside because the people serving it out couldn’t make it plainer to them that they don’t see them as human.

They are helping someone. These people are not lesser than them, these people are PEOPLE. If you would not serve the food you are handing out to your own family, you should be ashamed of yourself. 

(Thanksgiving/Christmas Meal programs I AM LOOKING AT YOU. Especially the one that shall remain nameless that I tore into about five years ago and was hung up on by. And all the foodbanks I’ve been to that were honest to god handing out moldy cakes and WAY expired goods.)

95 notes • Posted 2021-09-24 19:37:17 GMT

#1

I feel like I need to say this, as I've seen some concerning fandom purity bullshit crossing my dash.

This blog is unapologetically pro AO3.

I support them and all they do, may they continue to do it for decades to come.

52618 notes • Posted 2021-02-23 01:38:21 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[yanderecandystore]

aaa I love your work! Can we get some of the A.I reader and Ingrid going about their daily lives? Maybe with the A.I not being as naive and innocent as most think and Ingrid being totally soft for them.

Can we, dear? I'm joking, of course we can!

I'm currently dealing with some personal family related bullshit, so again, I'm sorry for taking so long to answer you. I'm going to be honest here, I think things are only about to worsen.

So I'll take longer to answer asks, and to write in general, so please be patient.

TW/Tags: reader is a bit sassy // they're kinda dating in this one 👀 // fluffy but also twisted in a way.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Something, something, clever title lol [Yandere!CEO OC x A.I Reader - Headcanon]:

Ingrid is a calm woman… Most of the time. She only loses her temper to the point of yelling at someone if they're being unreasonably stupid, or messing around with you.

This time, her employees have managed to check both marks! By not only pestering you to divide by zero but also constantly bothering you over the fact that you're a machine.

"- So, what have we learned today?"

"- Sigh… Don't ask the robot if they would date a microwave-"

"- Especially if?"

"- The bot is the most valuable employee, and the most important asset to the structure of this company-"

"- And?"

"- And if we bother them too much we'll be fired."

"- Good, good, I'm fine with this."

You watched the whole scene go down as you laughed to yourself. Geez, your boss is brutal sometimes, but honestly? They deserved it, even if you have learned to overcome humans making fun of the fact you're a robot, it is still kinda fun to see Ingrid defending you with such a strong grip.

You, of course, couldn't let this opportunity pass, so when she looked at you to see how you were, you made sure to look as unimpressed as you could. And truthfully, you weren't impressed by their apologies, it was flat and they clearly didn't understand what was the true issue of the situation.

Ingrid understood exactly what was written on your face, and then followed your reaction by imitating your expression. Except hers actually look threatening.

The employees were confused, did they do something wrong? Again??

"- C-Can we go now?"

"- Can you?" Ingrid asked while trying to guide their eyes to you. They have apologized to Ingrid, but not to you, the person they were making fun of.

"- We're sorry [Y/N]!" They said in unison hoping to please you and their angry boss.

"- Apologies accepted." You said. Although honestly, you kinda loved the whole situation. It was kinda bad yet kinda satisfying in a weird way. They kept bothering you through weeks and you haven't been able to truly finish your tasks, you should had come to her sooner but you felt like you were being a little evil by doing this.

And I mean, maybe you are, you're kinda holding your laughter as you see them humble themselves for at least once in their lives.

"- You were enjoying this? Weren't you?" Ingrid asked when all of the employees had gone out of her office. She noticed your smug little face, which she honestly couldn't help but love. It was adorable yet so mischievous, geez, you're terrible for her health!

"- Oh come on! You were holding your laughter too!" You responded back playfully, as she picked you up from the table you were sitting in.

"- Geez, you little brat!" She messed your synthetic hair and hugged you. Causing you to squeak because of how tight the hug was.

"- Ingrid! You're ruining my uniform!" You whined as she wasn't letting go. You're just so cute!

Even if she knows you better than anyone, knowing how you only act innocent when you sometimes can be a bit of a rascal, she loves it!

Most think you're a fragile dumb a.i, but the fact that she and only she knows the truth can be so thrilling, ya know?

"- Well, since we're almost done, what would you like to do when we finally go back home?" She asked while letting you go and fixing your clothes. The uniform that was given to you when you were being built fitted perfectly, yet it was so… Boring? Maybe she should buy you some new clothes, bringing you with her so you can choose for yourself.

"- Hmm… I want-" You checked your inner systems to see if you have any necessities to be fulfilled. You could either choose to simply go back home and fulfil those needs, or go with her somewhere else, like going to the shop to buy things for you or, well, anything else!

"- Ugh, I'm feeling stressed, I did a lot of things today you know?"

"- Like sitting around looking pretty?"

"- Exactly! Well, I was thinking, we could probably just go back home and watch something together, right?" You said. Honestly you weren't in the mood to go around, your battery was about to run out anyway.

"- As you wish." She said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Days went by like this, you two went to work in the morning, did your own personal tasks and would always decide on what you two would do when the shift was finished. You would either go on dates or just hang inside her house. There were events such as reunions between companies, a couple of parties between rich people (which you only enjoyed because you could wear shiny outfits), and stuff like that.

Although your life was generally really happy and comfortable, there were a couple of things you didn't like about your relationship with Ingrid. You started to wonder if you needed more than what she was offering.

Ingrid wouldn't let you go out of the house alone, she didn't really liked whenever you wanted to hangout with other people. Whenever you mentioned "friends" to her, she would always respond coldly to the idea.

"- Friends? Believe you don't need any. It's not like there is anyone at your level, [Y/N]. You're better than anyone, you're better than friends."

But you never really bothered about that. What truly makes your system meltdown is how she invades your privacy.

"- [Y/N], we need to talk."

"- What is it-"

"- Why do you have 1.389.657 pictures of cats downloaded in your files?"

"- Y-You looked at my data?? Why? When?"

"- When you were sleeping. And I did it because you were starting to run slower than usual. You were taking too long to respond."

"- ……………. No, I'm not."

You remember having a big discussion that day. She not only looked at all of your folders one by one, she even looked at your search history! The audacity, the nerve!

You remember going all the way to your room (which was hers, actually) and locking her outside.

"- You're being unreasonable-"

"- And you were invading my right for privacy!"

The fight was going throughout the entire night. There was a specific moment you thought she was about to destroy the door if you didn't let her in. You remember being terrified, you never saw her so… Aggressive.

Yet you couldn't find yourself to be completely mad at her. Either because you really cared about her or because your a.i was built to care for her, it didn't matter.

You saw her sleeping on the couch, her night had clearly been really rough.

You decided to give her a chance to explain herself. She didn't want to make you uncomfortable, she just really wanted to make sure you weren't lagging for anything else.

And well…. You ended up admitting the fact that 1.389.657 pictures of cats were really exaggerated. Maybe only two, maybe five per week would be better for you.

"- I'm glad today is Saturday, I don't want to move a finger." She said as she repositioned herself on the couch, it was really uncomfortable to sleep there, yet she couldn't find enough energy to get up and go up the stairs to her own room.

"- I'm just glad we managed to talk things out."

"- Yeah."

She went silent after responding to you. A whole second with you two enjoying the peace had passed before she said:

"- So. What did you find under the "Buff women" search on Google?"

"- I-! It-It was a one time thing, okay?!"

She laughed at your flustered robotic face. So it's true that robots can blush, huh?

God, you are amazing, you know? But she never promised that she wouldn't check your data regularly.

She just needed to erase the memories of you finding out she did. Nothing would change after that.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[floatingbook]

On minimalism

- what I took away, as a lesbian feminist.

I became aware of minimalism as a movement, or as a trend in a way, some five years back, by the intermediary of the blog of Ariana, paris-to-go (the website went down a few weeks ago, unfortunately). My experience of it was heavily linked with exposure to the zero waste movement, and perhaps that is why I took away what I took away from the minimalist movement.

In many respects, minimalism is very pretentious. All this white, all the emptiness, a sanitized experience of life, no apparent space for wonders and treasures collected in nature, no splash of colour, no sign of the lived experience, no mess. Minimalist spaces often have a dead quality to them, a lack of fire. Hotel rooms, the lot of them, where you can pass for a night and which will fade quickly from your memory. You can’t really live in a space like that. It’s a suffocating space of rules and nothingness. And in a way, all the furniture and objects displayed in those minimalist spaces are often onerous, hence absolutely not accessible to a penniless student (me).

What the current minimalist movement allowed me to do, though, is to reflect on my personal experience as a consumer. What am I doing? What makes me tick? How do I picture life and what motivated that picture? Media representation, governments’ injunctions regarding the economy and the ubiquity of ads paint a picture of life as an endless cycle of consumption-discarding. As if the products of human work had no value beyond a few weeks, a few months, a few years in the luckiest of cases. As if, for the good of society, we needed to buy and buy and buy to keep the world from collapsing. In a way, this is true; the current economical model, at least in the West, needs our constant consumption to persist. However, it is also true that I don’t need to buy new clothes every few weeks, or dozens of pens, or a new phone every trimester, or twenty mugs, ...

I can’t afford many things. As a feminist, I’m very keen to achieve financial autonomy, and that means that I need to be frugal. And minimalism has helped me distinguish between what I really need to be alive, what enhances my experience of life, what I wish I could have only to follow trends, and what I simply do not need. I have achieved a form of distance from material possessions. I of course buy first necessities and survival items in a timely manner, but when it comes to strictly enjoyable stuff, I always take a couple of months of reflection. This applies to book and clothes for me. In the last two years, I’ve bought two shirts, one dress, and a short. I don’t need more, and I’m grateful for that knowledge.

More generally, minimalist philosophy can be helpful in curbing a recourse to make-up for example, by offering a template to phase out most of the products you use until you only have a handful left, if quitting cold-turkey is too hard. It also offers insight into living frugal lives, which are a first step to independence.

I’ve also realized, thanks to minimalism, that sometimes putting in the money is worth it. And by that I mean waiting and saving for hand-made, women-crafted pieces instead of buying an imperfect, mass-produced one.

A very important realization was that the life that is sold to us in most media representation is not the only way to lead a successful existence. The knowledge that you don’t need a huge house and all the things it entails to consider your life good was a freeing relief.

Finally, what makes life truly enjoyable are not things that you can buy or possess. It’s dancing with friends, making food with your mother, helping someone repair something, teaching a kid how to count, watching a bird eat its weight in seeds, seeing the leaves go from spring green to deep emerald to all the shades of fire to a dull brown across seasons, listening to a cat purr by your side. It’s the hand of your girlfriend on a rainy walk, it’s a two am phone-call because you’re on the other side of the world, it’s the smell and chuckle of the waves breaking on the shore. We need things to stay alive, stay healthy and safe, but the added value comes mainly from people and from nature. Money and things can make your life easier, but there is life and life.

So to summarize, what I learned from minimalism:

You don’t need a lot of stuff to live.

Most of the things that make your life enjoyable cannot be bought.

Time, work and intent make things valuable.

Most media is trying to make you miserable.

You should only go through with non-essential purchases if they’re still relevant and desired after a two-month reflection time.

A few women speaking or writing about minimalism for your consideration: Lefie, Erin Boyle, Janell Kristina, Courtney Carver, Youheum. A good rule of thumb for looking into minimalism: if they’re telling you to buy something, run away. Also, decluttering done irresponsibly is just adding to trash in landfills, so don’t rush to toss out your past acquisitions in the bin.

[nekojitachan]

My kitty and I agree that we'd love to see more not in the stars. She wants to see that kitty representation.

Well, this isn’t Not in the Stars (not yet), but it’s kitty representation? Sorta? It’s what hit me when I sat down to write yesterday, and hopefully now that it’s out of the way, I can get into Not in the Stars.

It’s not Death!Neil, but it’s Cat!Neil! This is the set-up for the sequel to No Ordinary Cats, basically (Cat and Mouse, unless I think of a better title).

Uhmm, think it’s pretty safe - the violence is all off-screen/in the past, mention of NIcky’s past, Aaron’s past, Andrew’s past and Neil’s past (all very vague), of someone being homophobic (potentially), and potential drug use. All vague.

*******

Andrew pulled off on the side of the road on 76 near Lake Murray, before it merged into 26 outside of Columbia and when the traffic was non-existent; he got out to stand by the passenger side while he lit a cigarette. It only took a couple minutes before the door opened and Neil emerged, fully clothed. It was the first time his boyfriend was in his human form since that morning; he preferred to spend the time in the car curled up on Andrew’s lap unless he was driving (which was rare considering his utter disregard for traffic laws and confusion every now and then on what side of the road to drive on).

“Almost there?” Neil asked as he hesitated a moment before he leaned against Andrew’s left side, a warm, welcome presence; he wore one of Andrew’s old hoodies and black skinny jeans with tears at the knees.

“About two more hours,” Andrew informed his furball of a boyfriend as he rubbed the back of Neil’s nape, which prompted a faint purr. “Hungry?”

Neil raised his right hand and tilted it back and forth through the air in a ‘so-so’ sign, which meant that he could hold out a while longer and left getting food up to Andrew. “Just want to get this over with, to be honest.”

“We’ll hit a drive-thru,” Andrew settled on before he took one more long drag on the cigarette then tossed it aside, not eager to meet his ‘dear’ family but wanting to get it ‘over with’, too. He gave Neil’s nape a gentle squeeze before he let go and returned to the driver’s side of the new Maserati, the one indulgence he’d allowed himself after the whole Malcolms debacle (that Neil had practically insisted upon after the Nissan had been totaled).

There was something to be said for Neil in cat form curled up on Andrew’s lap while he drove, a silky-furred, purring creature he could pet in a soothing, mindless manner while he sped down the highway… yet having a gorgeous redhead in the passenger seat who smiled and chatted away about various landmarks or mocked idiots who drove below the speed limit was also nice. It wasn’t that Neil didn’t like to spend time with Andrew in his human form (oh did he enjoy his time with Andrew when they were alone and he wasn’t a cat), it was just after dealing with the last of his father’s people hunting him down but finding out that his mother’s family were looking for him, Neil was being extra-careful while they relocated across the country.

Across the country to Andrew’s long-lost family.

Andrew’s long-lost family, which he’d been more than ‘happy’ to ignore the last few months, except that they now gave him and Neil a logical excuse to leave California (to leave the scene of the crime, so to speak) and set up a new life far away from everything – Andrew reconnecting with the bastards who’d abandoned him.

He didn’t give a fuck about some identical twin his druggie (and now dead) mother had kept instead of him and an unknown cousin who’d stepped in to help said twin, but it gave him an excuse to get Neil the fuck out of Oakland before these mysterious Hatfords tracked him down.

Tracked them down.

Andrew wondered if he’d given something away in his posture or scent because Neil slowly, cautiously, reached over to place his left hand over Andrew’s right one on the gear shift. “If this doesn’t work out, we can always go somewhere else,” he offered in a quiet voice.

Andrew clicked his tongue as he entwined their fingers together. “I’m not going to Toronto or wherever north you have in mind so you can frolic in the snow.”

Neil scowled even as he tightened his fingers around Andrew’s. “Canada’s a civilized country that doesn’t believe in declawing cats in some parts, why wouldn’t I want to go there?” he asked with a sarcastic tone of voice. “You’ll just love Nova Scotia once you give it a chance.”

“That sounds rather cold to me.”

“As cold as your heart, apparently.”

They spent much of the drive to Nicky Hemmick’s house bickering, which Andrew privately enjoyed (not that he’d admit it); when he did stop for food, he made sure to pick a place that had fish sandwiches, just to tease his boyfriend. Neil gave him one of his haughty ‘cat looks’ but ate the thing, never one to turn down food that was still good (or mostly good – the furry bastard had an iron stomach). By the time they’d reached Hemmick’s house, the conversation had switched to Neil needing to wear a licensed tag while in his cat form and what type of collar Andrew was going to buy him (Andrew was leaning toward spiked black leather).

“If you even think of putting a bell on me, your precious leather seats will be shredded beyond repair,” Neil threatened as they pulled into the driveway of a small house with faded yellow paint but with recently cut grass. “Uhm, is this it?”

“So the GPS says,” Andrew drawled as he put the Maserati in park. “What did you expect for two guys barely of legal age?”

“Uhm….” Neil’s fine brows drew together as he seemed to think about that. “But you were doing all right on your own.”

Andrew snorted at that as he turned off the car; he noticed that someone had flipped on the porch light and figured they’d have company soon. “All right in a one-bedroom apartment.”

Neil turned to smile at him even as he undid his seatbelt. “But I liked our apartment.”

So had Andrew; the place had grown beyond a place to crash into something more the last several months, someplace that had belonged to him and Neil.

Now they had to start over again, with two strangers.

“Follow my lead,” Andrew reminded his boyfriend in the French he’d learned from the furball as the front door opened to reveal a young man with black curly hair and a dark complexion wearing brightly colored clothes – Nicky Hemmick. “And let me do the talking.”

“What talking?” Neil murmured, yet he gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.

Nicky waved in excitement as he rushed down the porch steps toward the car, which made Andrew sigh as he reluctantly left the vehicle; Neil did the same, though he paused slightly when another figure, almost identical to Andrew, slipped out onto the porch. Aaron Minyard was dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized blue t-shirt, his blond hair cut short on the sides and left spiky on the top. Andrew only spared him a moment’s thought before he stood in front of the Maserati with Neil behind him as Nicky barely came to a stop a couple of feet away.

“Hi! You made it! We were getting worried because of the time but you made it! And wow, what style! Nice ride, cuz! Nice ride and nice cutie!” He gave a too-appreciative look at Neil while Andrew caught Aaron grimacing at the comment. “You are the boyfriend, right? You’re-“

“He’s Neil, and he’s off-limits,” Andrew warned while Neil shuffled even more behind him as if to hide, spooked as always by strangers like the half-feral creature he was. “We were slowed down by an accident outside of Asheville this morning.”

“Uhm, okay.” Nicky gave a nervous laugh as he finally got the hint and took a step back. “You still made good time, but I guess it helps to have such a nice ride.” He cast an envious look at the Maserati before he shook his head. “Where are my manners? Come on in, do you need any help with your stuff? We’ve a room ready for you and there’s food!”

“We got it,” Andrew informed the- his cousin, he reminded himself, aware of Aaron’s silent, sullen attention from the porch as he and an anxious Neil fetched their few belongings which had survived the run-in with the Malcolms from the back of the Maserati.

Neil had always traveled light and was a creature of few possessions, and had only been upset about losing his blanket from their apartment being trashed; once it was clear that he was staying with Andrew, he’d converted the contents of his binder to digital accounts. Andrew was annoyed over the loss of a pair of Doc Martens he’d broken in just right (and had taken that out on Romero Malcolm, along with the asshole daring to think he could treat Neil as a belonging), but otherwise had also learned to not grow attached to things. Once they’d decided to leave California, they’d stocked up on a few necessities and figured they’d get whatever else they needed once they hit Columbia.

Nicky clucked his tongue when he noticed the one duffel bag slung over Neil’s left shoulder and the two bags in Andrew’s hands. “That’s it? That’s all you have?”

“And an expensive as hell car,” Aaron muttered as he shuffled toward the door, his attention still focused on Andrew.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly at the snide comment. “Life in the foster system taught me to keep things to a minimum,” he drawled, and felt a slight twinge of satisfaction when Aaron’s shoulders tensed at the jab and Nicky’s breath hitched.

“What about the boyfriend,” Aaron asked, his tone bitter as he glanced over his shoulder while he opened the squeaky storm door. “He a foster kid, too?”

“Vagabond, you could say,” Neil called out as he followed Andrew close enough to be his shadow, his steps just as quiet. “My mom didn’t like to stay in one place very long.”

“What about your dad?” Nicky asked, and judging from young man’s stunned expression, Neil had graced him with that smile. “Uhm, yeah, the house, let’s show you the house,” he sputtered in a rush to change the topic. “It’s not much, but it’s something!”

Perhaps, perhaps not, but it was better than a trashed apartment, a bunch of uncomfortable questions which Andrew (and Neil, especially Neil) didn’t want to answer, and a too obvious starting point for some freaky cat-shifting British mobsters with unknown intentions on the hunt for Neil. The only person who knew about Andrew’s suddenly unearthed family (other than a certain furball who was checking out their surroundings with an intensity that Andrew could feel from behind him) was Pig Higgens, who the doctors gave a twenty percent chance of regaining consciousness one day after his run-in with the ‘lovely’ Lola.

Unless these Hatfords could manage to wake the not-quite dead somehow.

They entered the house to step into a kitchen at least twenty years past due for a renovation; the floor was covered with clean but worn linoleum, the cupboards were small, metal ones painted the same pale green as the walls, and the white countertop bore a few chips in spots. Yet it was clean (except for a couple dishes in the sink) and showed signs of personality (the novelty mugs and dish towels, the curtains with smiley faces, the magnets featuring male pin-up models on the fridge), was better than most of the kitchens in the foster homes where Andrew had grown up.

“You can, uhm, just set the bags down for now,” Nicky told them with a nervous smile as he gestured to an open spot off to the side, near the doorway which led to what looked to be the living room. “I’ll give you the grand tour after something to eat? I made chicken enchiladas, I figured if you’re from California you must like Mexican food.”

They hadn’t eaten much that day, the stop for fast food aside, so Andrew nodded, which made Nicky grin with satisfaction. “Just sit down, I’ll make up your plates.”

Neil waited for Andrew to sit first and grabbed a chair at the table next to him, even scooted it closer, his pale blue eyes quick to take in everything and lean body tense as if ready to spring into motion at any moment; Andrew knew that he wanted to shift into his cat form and poke his whiskered nose into every crevice of the house until no spot was left uncovered, to ensure that the place was safe and find a hidey hole or two. Since that wasn’t possible right then, Andrew reached out to rest his right hand on his boyfriend’s nape and gave a blank look at his brother when Aaron gaped at him.

“Ah, so you like guys, too,” Aaron eventually spit out with a small moue of disgust which nearly made Nicky drop a plate over by the sink; a drop of sweat ran down the side of his face and his hazel eyes slightly glazed.

Andrew continued to gaze at his brother while he rubbed his thumb along the side of Neil’s neck. “You hiding something from me, FB?”

Neil made a faint spitting sound as he gently nudged Andrew in the side with his bony elbow. “Considering how often you threaten to neuter me? Not funny.”

“Well, there you have it,” Andrew told Aaron with a slight nod. “I seem to ‘like’ guys.”

“You like tormenting people,” Neil murmured in French as he glanced around the room through his overlong bangs, only to repeat the faint spitting noise when Andrew ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s thick hair – the wrong way. “See!”

Aaron stared at them in disbelief while a smiling Nicky returned to the table with two plates. “This is all such a surprise – I mean, first finding out about you after Aunt Tilda died, and then when you’re finally willing to talk to us, that you have a boyfriend and want to come here!” Nicky’s expression grew wistful while Aaron glanced aside as if he found the stove to be of paramount interest. “I mean… we’re so happy you’re here, but it’s… well, I’m happy to have something in common already,” he admitted as he twisted his fingers around a silver chain he wore. Then his expression turned almost lecherous. “We both have excellent taste, cuz!”

“How are we even related?” Aaron mumbled as he got up from the table to fetch a can of soda from the fridge with trembling hands, then left the room without another word. Nicky stared after him with a worried expression, while Neil gave their meals a few careful sniffs before he picked up a fork and began to eat.

Judging that to mean it was fine to do the same, Andrew started breaking up the three cheese-covered enchiladas on his plate while Nicky jumped up to fetch them something to drink as well. “Uhm, I’m sorry about that,” the young man babbled after he set the soda down in front of them. “Aaron’s been through a lot in the last few months, between Tilda’s death, finding out about you, me appearing and deciding to stick around to help him out and now you guys showing up.” He gave a nervous laugh as he toyed with the chain once more. “He’s not so much homophobic as… well, my parents and aunt are ‘old school’, I guess you could say about it.” Nicky’s dark eyes dulled with an old pain and his smile faltered when he talked about his family. “He’s got a lot to unlearn.”

Andrew frowned while he swallowed a bit of dinner (it was pretty good). “He better learn quickly.” He wasn’t going to put up with Aaron sniping at Neil, brother or not.

Nicky appeared ready to argue at that, then glanced at Neil, who had finished two of the enchiladas and pushed the remaining one around on his plate (a sure sign that he was full); when Andrew scooped it on his plate, Nicky smiled. “I’m sure he will.”

The rest of the meal was spent with Nicky babbling about the house and where everything was, his job as a waiter at a local diner, and the neighborhood. Once they were done eating, he did indeed give them a tour of the house (Aaron ignored them from his spot on the couch), culminating with the bedroom on the second floor which was ‘theirs’. “It’s not much, but the bed’s new and something tells me you two won’t mind sharing.” Nicky gave an exaggerated wink while Andrew reminded himself of all the reasons (not many) why killing his cousin right then would be bad.

Mostly they had to do with the Hatfords.

As soon as the pest left and closed the door behind him, Neil was busy examining almost every inch of the room, checking the windows and beneath the furniture (behind as well), crawling into the closet and standing on the tips of his toes to look up the walls as much as possible; Andrew sat down on the bed to watch the show. “You gonna pull up the rug, too?”

Neil gave him another haughty look. “I want to make sure it’s okay.” His hands twitched and crept toward the hem of his shirt.

“No,” Andrew said in a rush as he straightened up. “No changing, not tonight, not until I put on the new lock,” he insisted as he gave the door a potent look. “And then not outside the room until they’re both out of the house.” They’d talked about it on the drive to Columbia, the rules for Neil’s shifting in a household of strangers.

Neil made a low growl of frustration as he stalked toward the bed then curled up next to Andrew, only to relax against him once Andrew threaded his fingers through Neil’s auburn curls. “It’s… it’s so difficult. I want to make sure it’s all right, to know we’ll be all right here.”

“We will,” Andrew assured his lover as he held out his left forearm; even with the armband covered by the sleeve of his black t-shirt, Neil understood the meaning behind the gesture, as when Andrew motioned to the bag which contained the gun he’d pocketed from Romero Malcolm. “We’re prepared this time.”

“Hmm.” A slight purr escaped Neil as he rested his head against Andrew’s right shoulder. “Still, I’ll be happy when I can check everything in both forms.” He was quiet (save for the faint rumbling which was softer in his human form) for about a minute before he slowly pulled away. “About Aaron.”

Andrew frowned as his hand dropped from Neil’s hair. “Yeah? He’s a bit of an asshole.” When Neil’s upper lip twitched as if to form a smile, he gently flicked his boyfriend on the nose. “Collar with a bell,” he taunted.

“Shredded leather,” Neil shot back as he swiped his right hand over his face, then became serious once more. “He smells… odd.” At Andrew’s unspoken question, Neil’s brows drew together. “Something chemical.”

Andrew had caught the slight shake to his twin’s hands earlier, and the sweat on his forehead even as they sat in the air-conditioned kitchen. “Hmm.” Something to consider. However, right then he was tired from driving for a few days and just wanted to enjoy being on a comfortable bed with Neil stretched out next to him.

*******

[purplesurveys]

1059

surveys by lets-make-surveys

1 - When you wake up, do you get up straight away or do you lie around in bed for a while? Lie in bed, even on work days. I work from home, so there’s nothing to prepare or look nice for, anyway. I can stay in bed and just roll out of it and head to my desk at 9 AM to start the day.

2 - Who was the last person you video-called with? Have you done this more often since COVID hit? Video calls make me anxious, so I’ve always turned them down even when it was someone I’m close with who was trying to call, like Angela. The only person I’ve felt comfortable having video calls with was Gab but that obviously hasn’t happened in a while. I think the last people I saw on video was my dad’s family, though I was still shy and asked my mom not to put me in the shot for too long.

3 - How many times a week do you go out for food or drink? Back then I’d do it 2-3 times a week. Then Covid happened and I had to stop; but now that I’m starting to try to put in more effort to take care of myself, I try to bring myself to a coffee shop for me time at least once during weekends.

4 - Do you prefer getting takeaway or actually sitting in a restaurant and eating your meal there? Dine-in. For me ambience is a big part of eating food, and even if I had the once-in-a-lifetime chance of getting to eat the absolute best meal in the whole world, if I’m eating it alone at home I would still feel like shit.

5 - Where’s your favourite place to get takeaway coffee (or whatever your drink of choice is)? Starbucks. We have five joints in the highway I live on alone, so it’s both a personal preference and a I-don’t-really-have-a-choice type of situation haha.

6 - Do you tend to keep your phone on silent, vibrate or loud? It’s on vibrate during work days; then I’ve formed a habit of putting it on Do Not Disturb during weekends or holidays.

7 - If you have pets, when was the last time one of them annoyed you? What happened? Cooper thought my hand was a toy earlier so he was biting on it, and not in a very playful way.

8 - When was the last time you went into a bookshop? Around a week ago when I was buying presents; I needed to get my cousin the mechanical pencils and eraser she wanted for Christmas. I also came across the bookshop that Gab and I would make a habit to visit, but I didn’t go inside as I didn’t know if I was prepared for the memories that would inevitably flood back. I looked through the stuff they had on their windows, though.

9 - What was the last thing you ordered off Amazon? I don’t know if Amazon operates here. But the last thing I got from a local e-commerce app - don’t judge me HAHA - is a phone socket featuring the face of my newest K-drama crush. I placed my order literally 10 minutes ago.

10 - When was the last time you took a dog out for a walk? Is this your own dog or did you borrow someone else’s? Yesterday. Both were my family’s dogs.

11 - What jewellery do you have on at the moment? Not wearing any, haven’t worn any in a while.

12 - Do you have any products in your hair right now? What are they? Just shampoo and conditioner. I never put anything else on it; I don’t really deem hair products other than those two a necessity.

13 - Have you ever used a VPN to access foreign content online? Hahaha no. I’ve wanted to try it out, but I’ve always been paranoid that the NBI would come knocking at my door the moment I install one of those.

14 - Who was the last artist you listened to? Is this someone you’re a fan of? She’s a Korean singer named Cheeze, though she’s honestly unfamiliar to me. The song she contributed for the OST of Start-Up is my absolute favorite in the entire tracklist, and that’s how I knew of her.

15 - What was the last thing you had to drink? I’m at a cafe joint right now and they didn’t have my usual order of caramel macchiato, so I opted for a Spanish latté because it sounded new to me.

16 - When was the last time you cooked something for the first time? Did it work out the way it was supposed to? I made a Monte Cristo sandwich, if that counts as ~cooking; this was about a little more than a monthh ago. It worked out significantly better than I was expecting, given how rubbish I am in the kitchen. I lacked a couple of ingredients, like mustard for the sauce and the right kind of cheese, but I still ended up liking it.

17 - Black cats are considered to be bad luck - is this a superstition that you’ve ever believed in? Not me personally, but I know this is still widely believed in my country. It’s sad, so I approach black cats whenever I can and play with them for a bit.

18 - Would you ever eat blue cheese or do you find the idea of eating mould to be pretty repulsive? It is definitely not my favorite; I’d say 5 times out of 10 I would consume it, and the other 5 I would set it aside. I enjoy it the most in pizzas and as a sauce for chicken wings.

19 - Do you visit the dentist every six months like you should? Is that the standard schedule? Lmao. I only go when I have to.

20 - How old were you when you first used the internet? Was it dial-up or did you have access to proper broadband? I was first exposed to the internet at around the ages of 3 and 4, when my mom would use the dial-up internet to email my dad (he had just started to work abroad). For many years I thought Yahoo Mail was the only website that existed, since that’s all I saw my mom use. Eventually my dad got broadband for the family by the time I was 10, and the first website I ever looked up was YouTube.

21 - Are you old enough to remember using floppy discs? I remember those; I just never had to use them myself.

22 - When was the last time you purchased an actual DVD or CD? Andi gave me a Petals For Armor CD for Christmas, if it counts. Because they’re the most awesome fucking friend. The last DVD I bought myself was probably a Beyoncé's Life Is But A Dream, which was...holy crap, 7 whole years ago.

23 - Do you shave? Which body parts and how often? I do. I shave my underarms every few days, and my legs monthly.

24 - What’s your favourite season, and what are some of your favourite things about that season? We don’t have the usual four seasons we hear about in other countries; we only have wet and dry. Between those two, I definitely like wet more because I love the rain, and I like how cold it can get.

25 - When was the last time you burned yourself? I took a big bite of a lumpiang togue yesterday when it was still piping hot, so it felt like I almost burned my tongue and the roof of my mouth. But since I was a guest at my dad’s family’s house, I couldn’t spit it out.

26 - Have you ever been the victim of a theft or robbery? What was stolen? Did the police ever catch the person who did it? Someone stole my wallet in high school, and I never got it back. It was a small petty thing that the police didn’t need to be involved in, lol. I know my mom’s family got robbed when she was a teenager, though; the worst thing that got stolen was their grand piano :(

27 - What was the last TV show you discovered that you really liked? What was it that got you to watch it in the first place? START UP. I first heard of it from my co-workers who would mention the show here and there; and because I was new to the team and wanted to have something in common with them so that I can break the ice, I figured I should start on the show myself. Ended up getting obsessed with the show and gaining a new Korean crush altogether.

28 - Have you seen any of the live-action Disney remakes? Which one is your favourite? What about your least favourite? No, those have never looked even remotely appealing to me. I never saw the point of recycling movies that already exist and already feel magical by themselves.

29 - Do you have any exciting plans for tomorrow? If not, how are you planning to spend your day? It doesn’t sound exciting on its own, but I’m very much looking forward to be a homebody tomorrow haha. We’ve been with extended family for five days straight and I’m at a café right now for some me time, so tomorrow I can’t wait to just be at home and lounge around.

30 - Would you ever keep a working dog as a pet? Do you think it’s fair to keep dogs like huskies in flats when it’s so different to their natural environments? If the dog is already trained or certified to be a certain kind of working dog, I don’t see the point in keeping them for myself when they could be beneficial for other purposes. The only time I see myself adopting a working dog is if they’re already at the point of retirement and would need a loving home to live out their remaining years.

--

1 - Are you a fan of garlic bread? Do you eat it on its own or as part of a bigger meal? Love garlic bread; I regularly have it with my pasta and occasionally, pizza.

2 - When was the last time your area was under some kind of weather warning? Did it end up being as bad as predicted? Last month, during Typhoon Rolly. Other cities had worse experiences, but it also wasn’t sunshine and rainbows on our end. We had a blackout for around two days and I had to file for an emergency leave four days into my new job, which was super embarrassing. It didn’t flood in our street but the water was high in other areas in our village, so we couldn’t go out for a while.

3 - Do you ever buy things from charity/thrift shops? What was the last thing you bought from there? I don’t recall ever buying anything from either.

4 - The last time you got fast food, did you eat in, takeaway or go through the drive-thru? My last fast food wasssssss Jollibee, and my parents got it for takeout so that we could eat as a family at home.

5 - If you have multiple pets, do they get along with each other? Hahaha no they don’t. It’s been six months since we got Cooper but the two still don’t get along, unless it’s Kimi trying to hump him. It’s understandable; Cooper is a vibrant pup that’s super excited and play bites all the time, and on the other side is a nearly 13 year old, nearly blind, can’t-smell-as-well-as-he-used-to senior dog; and I get that Kimi’s more sensitive to sudden movements now.

6 - Do you ever buy things off eBay? If you do, do you participate in auctions or do you just use the “buy it now” option? I never go on eBay. And since I’ve never checked it out, I never understood the gimmick of the website.

7 - When you go out, do you worry that you’ve forgotten to lock the door or turn something off? Yeah, this is especially the case with locking the front door.

8 - What fruits and vegetables have you eaten so far today? Do you tend to get your “five a day”? I didn’t know five a day is a thing of some sort; but it’s only 8:47 AM and I haven’t eaten anything at all yet today.

9 - When was the last time you were in pain? What caused it and did you manage to get it sorted in the end? Last night when my back was giving me hell. As for the cause...idk, years of bad posture maybe? I was able to deal with it for a bit with the new massage pillow that my dad got for Christmas.

10 - Do you live in an area that gets lots of snow? Do you like it? If not, would you like to live somewhere that gets that cold? I would love to move somewhere that’s generally more cold. Humidity gets exhausting to deal with.

11 - What was the reason for your last doctor/hospital visit? My fever had already been lasting for a week and wasn’t showing signs of going away. No Covid symptoms, just pure hellish fever.

12 - If someone had told you that 2020 would see a global pandemic, countries going into lockdown, compulsory face masks and millions of deaths, would you have ever believed that you’d live through something like that? My personal biggest surprise for 2020 wasn’t even the pandemic. I would have had a more violent reaction if I was told I would no longer be in a relationship and be barely talking to my then-girlfriend of six years by the end of 2020.

13 - Do you prefer having the blinds/curtains open or closed when you’re at home? Does it depend on the weather or the time of day? Always closed. I don’t ever voluntarily open the curtains or windows to let the sunshine in.

14 - Do you use an ad-blocker on your computer or phone? Why/why not? I use one on my laptop because the ones on YouTube can be extremely annoying. I didn’t know it was possible to put on ad blockers on phones (is it?).

15 - Do you still use a paper diary/planner to organise your appointments and schedules? No, but I’m thinking of getting a planner again for 2021. I used to get a Starbucks planner every year just because I wanted to get into their Christmas promo hype, but I never completed any of them. Now that I’m working and am busier all around, I see the bigger need for a planner. These days, I use a Google extension called Momentum to list down my to-do tasks. My parents also got me a corkboard for Christmas on which I stick notepads with things I have to do for the day.

16 - When was the last time you charged one of your electronic items? Do you have to charge that specific item often? I’m charging my laptop now. At this point it’s always plugged in because I want to keep the cycle count low, though I’m not sure if it’s the healthiest thing to do.

17 - Have you ever thrown or broken something in a temper? Yes, definitely. I’m not normally aggressive when angry, but sometimes it happens.

18 - What does your outfit look like today? Did you pick it out for a special reason? I have on a black sundress that I didn’t change out of. I wore it yesterday when I went to a coffee shop to spend some time on my own.

19 - Do you follow any vlogs or podcasts? What is it about them that interests you? I do follow certain channels who do vlogs, but I never tune into them since most of them have gotten a little uninteresting. I’m also subscribed to several podcasts like Andi’s and Renee Young’s, but I’m not always in a podcast mood; I subscribe because I want to support them.

20 - Aside from Tumblr, what websites do you spend the most time on? Do you go through phases of visiting certain websites? I visit Twitter and YouTube the most often. I will binge Reddit every now and then, and I will get into a Wikipedia black hole at least once a week.

21 - Do you have a good relationship with your siblings? If you don’t have siblings, what about your cousins or extended family? I do not maintain a relationship with my brother after he physically assaulted me last year. My sister and I are on good terms, but we’re not close in that I can cry to her or that we know each other’s secrets. We have a very good casual relationship, and we never argue.

22 - When was the last time you were up early enough to see the sunrise? I hate the sun so I don’t really do that lol.

23 - What movie series did you last watch from start to finish? Was it one you’d seen before? I only ever do this with Twilight. I have my annual Twilight Saga marathon where I watch all five films in one afternoon hahaha.

24 - Do you still enjoy watching children’s TV programmes? What was the last one you watched? Yeah, but only the ones I watched as a kid. My cousins and I watched the Wet Painters episode of Spongebob last Christmas Eve right after we finished Midsommar.

25 - Who was the last person to tag you in something on social media? How do you know that person? I have no idea. I’ve been going in and out of deactivation, so at this point I’m sure people no longer have any clue if I’m on a certain social media website or not.

26 - What was the last thing you took a photograph of? It was a screenshot of something I wanted to show Angela.

27 - Are you a fan of giving animals human names? Sure. I certainly find it funny when pets are given incredibly ordinary human names, like Bob or Mark.

28 - When was the last time you weighed yourself? Were you happy with what the scale said? Christmas Eve eve, when I saw a weighing scale in my cousin’s room. I mean it’s what I’ve weighed for the last 5 years or so, so I have no complaints.

29 - How often do you buy yourself new clothes? What was the last clothing item you bought for yourself? Used to be a few times every month, but I have not bought anything new since before the pandemic. The last items I got were still the tops with puffed sleeves that I bought in March.

30 - What is the reason behind your mood today? Is this something you could have done something about? I’m mostly at ease; a little anxious because work continues for a certain headache of a client even though we told them our office would be on shutdown; and a little melancholic for no reason. I’m trying to combat the latter by doing my embroidery and it’s kind of helping, but the sads are still lingering.

[fairstarlights]

​Crowns and Thorns

Chapter Summary: Patton and Logan take Virgil on a fun outing.

Chapter Warnings: N/A - Enjoy the fluff -

Chapter Pairing(s): Logicality

Word Count: 1,761

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

- Chapter 5 -

After tea was finished Virgil took the cups and deposited them into the sink to be washed later Patton grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the main room. “For all your hard work Logan and I are going to take you out and do stuff! Just for a while since Logan is a stick-in-the-mud.”

“I am a person and there is no mud in here, if there was Virgil most likely has cleaned it by now.” Virgil snorted at Logan's reply. He was as dumb as he was smart it seemed. Virgil lightly shook out of Patton's grasp and took a few steps backwards because the guy apparently doesn't know about personal fucking space. 

He opened his mouth to object but it died on his lips as he remembered these people worked for King Thomas and gave him this job. 

“Can we go out another day? I'm kind of tired from cleaning and would like to relax.”

“Kiddo! This is exactly why you need a few hours out of this place! It's boring because your work place is also your home and you can pick stuff up to decorate your room or something.” Patton said as he grabbed both Virgil and Logan and lead them through the door, Logan knew not to protest and Virgil just didn't have the energy for it.

The town-square was bustling with people doing whatever people do and a lot of one day set up shops among the normal every day ones. Crowds made Virgil anxious, but since he had all that free time while Roman trained he had time to explore and get used to it. As used to it as allowed anyway.

 Patton seemed to enjoy all the people and Logan looked apathetic. Something else seemed to be there, something in his eyes spoke more emotion that Logan seemed to allow himself to show. Virgil considers himself rather perceptive but his intuition lacked so he wasn't even going to try to guess.

“Patton, would you please let Virgil go? I do not think he will be running away and if he chooses to do so it would not be the end of the world, finding him would not be a problem.” Logan said and Patton pouted, but let go.

'If I wanted to be found.' Virgil thought to himself. But just like Logan said, Virgil didn't disappear into the crowd after being freed. It almost made him want to do just that but he kept that impulse at bay and focused on the shops around them.

“Wait, I don't really have money right now.”

“Do not worry Virgil, we will buy the things you require. After you cleaned the place from that horrible disarray, we could do this much for you.”

“Logan is right! There was no way we could have done that ourselves with all our normal day things. We didn't think we'd even be able to hire someone in time because of the little time we have for things like that. Then an angel walked through the doors and made our dream come true.” Wow this guy was as extra as Roman. Ugh, he needed to not think about him right now.

“I'm not an angel.”

“Of course you are, you saved us!” Patton went to ruffle Virgil's hair and Virgil promptly ducked and hissed. Logan and Patton looked at Virgil like he had two heads and the anxious boy was filled with immediate regret. Not because he was embarrassed, no, these were just two very important people to the King. He needed to be more careful.

“You're like a little black cat, oh my goodness.” Patton gushed as he pressed his hands to his face, which looked infuriatingly adorable. If this guy kept up the cute names there would end up being words. Logan seemed to realize this and cleared his throat, his face back to it's usual neutral expression.

“Patton, I do believe you wanted to stop by the cafe? Perhaps we could go and get a bite to eat.” The curly hair boy gasped and jumped up and down, making his curls bounce slightly chanting yes's before taking off into the crowd, hand in hand with Logan. Those two were going to get caught one day and Virgil didn't want to see what would happen. 

He went to the only cafe he knew of and happened to catch sight of the two dorks going in. As Virgil entered the smells of the pastries and tea hit him like a horse drawn carriage to the face. That had happened once at his home village and Roman had a field day over it, nearly chasing after it but relented due to Virgil not wanting to cause more of a scene.

Virgil shoved the thoughts away and sat down at the table Patton and Logan were sitting at. The place looked like something Virgil couldn't afford on a daily basis or even a weekly basis. Maybe not even monthly. Logan and Patton were likely to give him a living wage but he wasn't sure how much he would need for food, clothes and other life necessities and still have room to do a little bit of indulging. Not that Virgil would indulge too much, he wants to make sure he can money saved up just in case something happened to his job.

The waiter came up and asked for their order. Patton got a couple chocolate chip cookies and tea with cream and sugar. Logan got a jelly filled scone with black tea. Virgil ordered a slice of chocolate cake with water since he just had tea.

“Water? That's interesting.” Patton commented and Logan nodded.

“Yes, I think Virgil is doing the best thing, unlike you Patton. You should be look after yourself better.”

The two playfully bickered back and forth till the waiter gave them their order, and then dug in. Virgil noticed there was a half sliced strawberry on top of his cake and internally cheered, he loved strawberries. After chatting and hearing a fluency of puns from Patton, they finished their treats and tea, or in Virgil's case: water, Logan paid and they headed back out to the square. 

Logan took them to a small shop full of furniture and some other smaller things. Virgil ended up with a dark violet tea cup set, silver cutlery and various other things for the kitchen. For his bedroom he got black blankets and curtains (to keep out the light) and a black mirror to match.

“That's an awful lot of black kiddo, don't you want something with more color? You're not getting only black because it's cheapest are you?”

Well he wasn't far off. Virgil didn't want to spend anymore than he had to, plus back in his village blacks, browns and greys were the cheapest because they were the easiest to make, so Virgil grew a fondness for the color. He did like purple as well, but that was a color for the wealthy and unfortunately he was not one of those. Though with the things he was currently buying he felt wealthier than he ever had in his life.

“Nah, I just like the color or the lack of. Just that type of person.”

“That very well may be, but we can not have our messenger only wearing black. You are not undercover and black is the most useful at nighttime. I recommend us stopping by the clothing store to buy something with a color of your choice. I would recommend purple since it is the color we wear to identify ourselves.”

“We could get you a haircut too! Your hair's in your eyes.” Patton chimed in.

“No. My hair stays the way it is.” Virgil defended and coincidentally his bangs fell further into his face. He didn't stop to move them despite them tickling the top of his nose. Logan looked reluctant but didn't voice it. Patton shrugged and happily steered them into the most expensive looking clothing store Virgil had ever seen. Oh boy.

After hours of looking and butting heads with the Logan, Patton and the store clerk, Virgil ended up with a black shirt with purple trimmings on the color, down the sides of where they buttons were, sleeves and the hem. It also had a purple pocket. It came with a pull over cape, black with purple trim. His pants were black with purple around the bottom of the pant legs. A messenger bag was added to the mix and was white with intricately stitched gold and purple trim. He had the same clothes but in white with purple trimmings. Two purple outfits were added, one with black and one with white. All with matching capes. 

Virgil thought he saw Logan grab a pair of shoes but it happened so fast he wasn't sure if he saw correctly or not.

As they left the store Virgil realized something very important. “Do I pick up the things later?” Patton giggled at that and danced around the darker and emptying square.

“Of course not silly! We had it all delivered. Couldn't walk around with it all day or keep taking stuff back to your home, that would be tedious. Oh! We had new cleaning supplies and table with chairs delivered as well. And food!”

Well, Virgil was speechless. “Oh wow. Uh, thanks.” He said lamely and Patton quickly ruffled his hair before Virgil could react. Not that he would and he thinks Patton knew that.

“It is not a problem. These are basic things you require and we are more than happy to give them to you.”

“Yeah! No worries on paying us back cause we definitely needed this time out too.”

“Oh. Oh no. How could I have not paid attention to the time? We must left, Patton and I have things to attend to back at the castle. Your things should be there already and put away, please do enjoy and take care of them.” Logan said as he offered his hand. Virgil shook it and Patton's as well as the two rushed off towards the castle.

Virgil watched them go till they got into a carriage. He turned around and headed back towards his new place of residency. The day could not have gone any better and if day were even nearly the level of happiness he was feeling and definitely not showing, he will eat his left foot.

Back in the carriage Patton was feeling proud of himself from the various happy looks Virgil had been sporting the whole day.

---- Fic Tag List ----

@laytonsartblog, @ambrechandra

Thank you <3

[introvertintuitionfeelperception]

Types of men we want to marry

For those of you idealistic, sensitive men out there, and my heart does go out to you for your continued survival in a conformist society that tries to mold men into masculine archetypes – please feel free to change the gender of the following types of individuals to that of Female, or Male, depending on your preferences.

The Sensitive Artist

Marrying the Sensitive Artist, with his deep, soulful eyes and melancholy outlook on life, is sure to be rewarding – especially if he lives in a dingy attic that overlooks other rooftops in a romantic city, like, say, Paris.

The two of you can spend twilight evenings walking down the boulevards, past quaint cafes with green awnings and golden lights flickering behind the windows, other strolling couples, the odd bicycle rider passing by in a tinkle of bells, having deep, philosophical conversations.

Back at his “studio”, the prints cluttering the walls and the floor resembling multi-coloured puked-up guts can offer plenty of fodder for further philosophical thought – as an INFP, you are sure to discover the meaning of life in a splotch of red and green paint, or uncover a fantastical scene in something that looks like a dog’s breakfast after it has been partly digested. Your rapture at his artistic talent will satisfy him greatly.

In return, he will listen to your deepest desires and dreams, understand the despair you feel towards life and the world, and refer to you as his “Muse”, which you will brush off with an embarrassed air, smiling shyly, but secretly feel very pleased about. However, be prepared to pay for meals and other necessities while with him, and, when the man racks up hundreds of dollars in debt buying new easels and paint tubes, remain uncomplaining as you scrawl your signature onto the bill handed to you by the delivery man at the door.

Who knows: Through your experience with the Sensitive Artist, perhaps you will learn something new: that your INFP nonchalance towards money was wrong, and that no matter how “deep” a partner is, sometimes the depths of his pockets is a little more important.

The Good, Caring, Responsible Man

What INFPs need most of all from other people, and which they very rarely receive, is kindness; and this man is bound to provide this scarce resource in abundance.

He will care for you, just as if you were his own flesh and blood, treating you as the fragile, little creature you are: Helping you with real-world tasks, like filing for a savings account at the bank or getting your car registered; comforting you in the middle of the night when you start crying remembering something horrible you said to someone last year; and he will never berate you for being “too sensitive”, or “too quiet.”

No matter what happens to you in the outside world you can have the comfort of always returning to someone who will tell you that he loves you, and cooks you nice, warm meals to show you that he cares. Unfortunately, though he will be smart enough to work as a system’s manager at his accounting firm, chances are he will not possess a drop of imagination, and bore you to bits. In which case, you will have to decide which is more important: having your own equivalent of a talking pillow to soothe you after being battered by the vagaries of life, or someone you can intellectually connect with.

Intellectual stimulation is simple to obtain on your own, in the form of books and, well, more books, so perhaps it would be nice just to settle for someone who cares. Then again, books are fine company on their own, and, unlike this particular breed of the male species, never become too smothering.

The Executive

The Executive is assertive, confident, and bold – in other words, the ENTJ Myer-Briggs Personality type, who values rules, systems, actions and logic, and is the antithesis of the INFP personality type.

Isabel, creator of the Myer-Briggs Personality Type Test, however, has proclaimed the Executive to be the most compatible with the Dreamers. Though I have yet to completely puzzle out her reasoning – the two personalities could not be any more different – nevertheless, it does not require too great a leap of the imagination to envision the Executive being charmed by the INFP’s air of mysterious shyness, and the INFP attracted to the Executive’s boldness and social ease. After all, we often admire what we lack in ourselves, and opposites, as they say, do attract.

In this relationship, regardless of what gender you are, who the dominant partner is clearly defined. You will always have someone to tug you down from the clouds back to earth  with his rational thought processes, thereby helping you to take action rather than daydream your life away; but be prepared, as he is a predominantly logical thinking, to sometimes have your feelings trampled over, and to pick up your battered heart from the floor at the end of a long day.  On the other hand, expect good conversations, as both of you, being intuitive, will probably enjoying imagining the future together, and developing long-term plans.  You will also not have to worry about having your bank account drained, as this type of man is often quite successful in the career, usually opting to work in lucrative fields such as business.

Ultimately, he will be appear powerful and dynamic – captivating, even – but this relationship is liable to go down in flames unless either he grows a little more sensitive to your feelings, or you grow a little tougher in order to withstand his constructive criticism. Still, it can be the basis for a good partnership, and you may even find yourself peeping a little more out of your shell due to his influence, growing a tougher exoskeleton – but, if I were you, I’d stick with the books for less heartache in the long run.

The Quiet Writer

For those INFPs out there who are fond of writing themselves and are looking into it as a career, the Quiet Writer has the ability to offer the perfect partnership – it will be practically like dating yourself! A shared love of literature will be the glue that binds the two of you together, and dates will probably consist of visits to the bookshop or the library, tottering back to the car with tiny towers of novels balanced in your respective arms.

The rest of your time together will probably be spent sitting together or in separate rooms writing or reading, with the occasional visit to the other’s room or lifting of eyes from the page, to comment on what one has read, or written, and ask for additional input regarding it. Birthday presents will be books, and more books, and for the two of you, the idea of a good evening is to sit, side-by-side, at the kitchen table, upon which lies an open dictionary, and giggle over the strange words that exist in the English Language – erinaceous, for instance, which means to resemble a hedgehog. The next morning, you will say to the Quiet Writer, as he awakens with scruffy bed-hair beside you, “My darling, you look most erinaceous,” and the two of you will burst into laughter again. By all accounts it sounds like the perfect relationship, but there is always the chance, the two of you being equally retiring and antisocial, for the relationship to dwindle away into something that more resembles two roommates, sharing a living space, than  anything romantic or loving. But, you know, at least you’ll have plenty of books.

I hope this selection of potential mates has given you some food for thought. Do not forget that dating is not confined to Myer-Briggs Personality Types, and that any personality type can fall in love with any personality type, as each of us are too complex and nuanced to be encapsulated by four mere letters.

I, however, in the process of writing it,  certainly came to some conclusions of my own – namely, that, well, as long as I have books, there is very little else I need; but, we all desire companionship, sooner or later, so it’s best to keep an open mind regarding such things, even if having a partner, though it might be an evolutionary imperative, is not exactly a psychological necessity. This should not rule out the possibility of one enjoying having someone warm to curl up against at night, when your heart is too cold, and the world is too big.

But, then again, you could just get a cat for that – much less maintenance

[maisstories]

I Need Your Help

To be more precise, my girlfriend needs your help. The reason I am the one writing this text is because right now she is so depressed and discouraged that she doesn’t have the strength to believe asking for help would make a difference, and that… that terrifies me.

For those who don’t know us, I am Mai, and my girlfriend is Kari. Under different circumstances, we should have our lives all nicely sorted out, but as we are all aware, we live in the kind of dystopian world society at large likes to pretend only happens in fiction. Especially Kari. You see, I’m from Spain, and Kari is from the US. This means an entire ocean separates us (otherwise I would’ve bundled her up and brought her home, believe me).

Kari is a poor wlw who lives in a very conservative area (as in, Bible Belt conservative). She has ADHD, which went untreated most of her life, hampering her at every turn. First, because she grew up in a very conservative Catholic family and most Catholic families just Don’t Believe in Those Things. Now… well, now because she has no medical insurance and can’t afford to pay for medication. Cute, isn’t it? And that’s not even the best part. Kari has depression, that I mentioned, but this whole situation, and the hopelessness it causes her, has brought forth suicidal ideation. I don’t have the words to express just how scared I am by this. It paralyzes me. There is nothing, physically nothing I can do if they ever get the better of her.

To add to this, it has been made abundantly clear to Kari that her parents won’t help her if she becomes homeless. They didn’t want a child to begin with. A gay child? Yeah, no, forget about it.

(On a bit of a bright note, Kari has two adopted cats, which are the cutest fur balls over. They’re her closest emotional support most days, and I am very grateful for them. I can’t cuddle her or be physically there for her at all, but I can at least ask her to go cuddle them. They’re not even on the particularly scratchy side for cats).

Currently, Kari has a job, but despite taking on as many extra hours as possible, she cannot make enough money for rent. In fact, she cannot make many other basic necessities, which I will list here because they’re important, I am worried sick, and we really do need help:

-Work: Kari lost her previous job for one of those completely absurd, US-only reasons back in late October. I say absurd because any company trying to pull that shit here in Spain, and most likely anywhere in the European Union, would’ve been fined out of business. But hey, Country of Freedom and all that, isn’t it? She finally found a new job mid-November. Lower pay, though, which means it doesn’t help her cover full rent.

-Rent: As many people in the US will know, and others not from the US will have heard, rent outside of isolated areas is ridiculously expensive, especially for such a large and unpopulated country. The Wonders of Capitalism. As such, Kari is forced to pay a truly monstrous amount of money for a minuscule space to live in, one that ate up most of her previous salary and that surpasses her current one.

-Bills: Let’s not forget these. She rations. As much as she can. Electricity, water, internet… she goes for cheapest and least use, so far as to monitor her use of water during showers, but this still adds to her expenses.

-Food: Now’s where things get to a truly awful degree. When she moved to the place she lives in now (and if anyone wants the story that led to this move, please ask, because that’s an entirely other level of fucked up), she had to apply for food stamps, because she had barely no money left to feed herself and her two adopted cats after all the mandatory expenses. Food stamps people don’t look at the money you have left after bills, they just look at your income, so she was allotted $16. Useful, right? Anyway, fast forward to late October: Kari loses her job, so, obviously, one of the first things she does is contact the food stamps people to update her situation and have her allotment reevaluated. No response. Contact again. No response. This keeps going on. Mid-November, she gets a new job (still no response from the food stamps people despite the many attempts to contact them). Last Friday, her food supplies consisted of a bit of chicken, two fish fillets, and a couple eggs. I do not kid you. Today, the food stamp people finally answered her call: they won’t look into her case until, at least, December.

That’s it for the basics. As you see, it’s a wonderful situation.

Now, my role in this, as I’m sure some of you are wondering.

Let me start by saying this: I am a heavily disabled woman (nearly blind) living in an isolated area with the worst public transport system this side of the Mediterranean Sea. I am incapable of even getting out of home without assistance and someone to drive me at the moment. This means, having a job where I currently live is out of the question (I’m working on getting a job somewhere else where I’ll be able to live on my own. Sort of). My only source of income right now is my Patreon account, the earnings of which go fully to Kari because my girlfriend’s wellbeing matters to me much more than anything I could ever need for myself. I may say whatever I want about my parents’ belief that my relationship isn’t real because they don’t believe you can forge real connections through the internet (or the fact they want me to have a BOYfriend because they want grandchildren), but at least they’re so terrified I’ll break the moment I step outside on my own that they take good care of me.

Still, unfortunately, I’m only a writer, and a writer’s Patreon doesn’t make enough money to cover for such serious issues.

But Kari is the most important person in my life. I’m not exaggerating. I never thought I’d fall in love. I’ve always been the weird one out, the blind kid teachers coddled too much out of pity so other kids disliked and picked on, the one who was so odd that didn’t even fit with the weird kids in school. That happened everywhere, anywhere I went. Even in some fandom groups. It came to the point I stopped trying. It came to the point I thought once my parents died I wouldn’t have anyone. I’d stopped making plans for the future. There was no future for me.

And then I met Kari. She can make me smile with a silly gif and an obscure quote I thought no one else knew at 3am when I’m on the verge of tears because I feel trapped in my own house; she can get me excited about doing a joint cosplay in the distant future when I’d given up on cosplay years ago because I had no one who wanted to go to cons with me; she listens to my stupid history rants and even shows interest in them, when the most I’m used to getting are eye rolls and a change of topic.

Kari is the best that’s happened to me. Ever. And I want her to be happy. I want her to not have to worry about rent; I want her to be able to buy herself a chocolate bar because she feels like it without having to feel guilty for wasting the money. I want her to be able to live without the fear of being evicted every month, without having to worry about tomorrow’s meals because she ran out of food stamps and the fridge has only a can of soup left for the weekend. I want her to be able to go to the doctor when she’s sick and buy the medication she needs to get better.

But I don’t have the power to do this. Not now, not yet. So I’m asking you, everyone out there, to please help us. Help her.

And, I’m afraid, November is an awful month for Kari. Due to the late date at which she found her new job, she is missing a large chunk of rent. I’m doing everything in my power to gather money, and I ask —no, beg— you to help. Donate something, anything. Even if it is small, many small donations can make a difference.

Originally, we wanted to do a GoFundMe page with a three-month goal of 975 dollars to cover that period’s expenses (yes, guys, we’re missing about 500 this month. It’s that horrible), but every single crowdfunding website we have found works through bank accounts. Banks in the US are sharks; they tax you for not having enough income, for not having enough activity… Basically, if you’re poor in the US, you have to pay to have a bank account that will never have any money in it because the bank will eat it up. So, until we find an alternate crowdfunding site that allows to collect through paypal, we have set us several other safe forms through which you guys can donate to help Kari.

Paypal.Me: https://paypal.me/findyourwaycrafts

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/findyourway

Kari has a crafts store, because she is a fantastic artist (and you should totally check it out), with much stuff already on it and other stuff planned to come:

Store: https://findyourway.storenvy.com/

Store Tumblr: https://findyourwaycrafts.tumblr.com/

However, these things take time to take off, and we are running out of time in November. So please, please, help us cover the remainder of Kari’s rent for this month. Even if it’s just a dollar, three, five, a purchase of a necklace. Anything. Please, help us. Help Kari keep a roof over her head this Winter.

[playghosttrick]

Ghost Swap fic (courtesy of @fyeahghosttrick) for @kamil-a! As soon as I saw the third prompt concerning the ten-year stretch I grabbed onto it and banged out a little slice of life near the beginning. Hope you like it!

It had been weird in the beginning, using various people to go out and purchase necessities. Not for him, of course (he was dead, the most he needed were new clothes and a place to stay) but there was one little attachment to the living world that made his maneuvering into a ritual:

“Miaow,” Sissel called as he came running into the kitchen. Sometimes Yomiel dusted it just to keep up appearances, to remind himself that even if his existence didn’t take up space, his body sure did and that body was an anchor to reality and – “Miaow!” Sissel rose on his hind legs and tapped at the man in red with his paw. Yomiel, lightly surprised out of his thoughts, turned his cyan gaze to the cat before lowering his hand from the tabletop. Sissel rubbed against it as he started up a purr that filled the silence of the room. It was much better than nothing.

But he had to keep this cat fed and healthy and warm and if that meant abusing his power to control the living, then he’d do it. He’d do it with little blot on his conscience because what was a couple of bucks for some cat food, right?

… He’d learned quickly that cats are picky. Sissel had only sniffed it a few times before immediately returning to begging for food from the man in red, and Yomiel found it both endearing and annoying. Great, so he’d obviously picked the wrong brand and had wasted someone else’s money for nothing. With a grunt, he got up (not before giving his new cat a scratch behind the ears) and left to try again.

Sinking into someone’s core got easier each time he did it. The way they feebly struggled against him was still disconcerting (like holding someone’s head underwater until– he scrubbed that imagine spot out of his mind) but with practice, it seemed to go more quickly and with less fuss. He had to hurry, though: Sissel was probably yowling up a storm back in the apartment, poor guy. Growing cats were hungry cats, right? Like people? He’d look it up when he was back home.

Okay, so this time he actually had to interact with someone. Yomiel cleared his puppet’s throat as he approached an employee at the dingy-looking pet store, and spoke carefully with halting words. Most people had just come to assume that his host had some sort of speech impediment, and the polite ones never mentioned it at all.

“Can you, please, help me pick out some food, for my new cat?” She flashed him a perfect ‘this-is-just-my-job’ smile. “Certainly! How old is it?” “I don’t know, but, he’s still, pretty small. And he’s picky.” “Right this way, sir!” Even if he was using someone else’s face to interact, it felt good to be addressed. If not for the lack of sensation everywhere, Yomiel would have even tricked himself into thinking she actually was talking to him. No time to dwell on that now, though. There was a cat to feed.

After buying 'special formulated kitten food’ (and leaving it outside for his body to retrieve safely away from security cameras and the like), Yomiel entered his shell and 'pulled’ it around himself like a coat, standing up with a bit of difficulty before pulling himself together, so to speak. The walk over to the food wasn’t long, but there was already another stray cat trying to chew through the layers of paper.

Chasing away a cat wasn’t difficult, but the emotional cost… nonetheless, Yomiel picked up the bag only to note the many pairs of eyes focused on him from an overturned garbage can in the alleyway he’d stowed it in. With a sigh, he tore open the top of the bag, reached in with a bare hand, and tossed a fistful of the dry food out. The eyes flinched back before several feral kittens poked their heads out, sniffiing the air. They watched Yomiel with explicit wariness, but at least that hadn’t changed.

Since they were waiting for him to go, the spook in red let them be and left. Only to hear an insistent mewl behind him. A white cat with a torn-up ear was following. With a sigh, he tossed a couple pieces of dry cat food at them too, hitting the cat in the face. Sure, he regretted doing that a little, but it was done. “Yowwwl!” It was still following him for another block. “For the luvva gods.” Yomiel turned and stomped at it, making the cat flinch again. Sure, he felt a little worse, but he had to take care of Sissel.

“YOOOWWWL!” The cat was almost at the steps to his apartment complex. Yomiel turned one more time and hissed, baring his teeth and dropping his jaw to make the sound. It stopped and fluffed up in alarm, just long enough for the man in red to pass into the building without a white cat on his heels. That didn’t feel bad at all.

“Sissel!” Yomiel called as he opened the door to his apartment. “I’m home!” He half-hoped to hear her call back and ask him if he’d remembered everything he needed to make dinner for them this time, but there was only the sound of– “Miaou!” He almost stumbled as Sissel attached himself to his owner’s legs, weaving around them in a figure eight. The poor thing was probably expecting to topple over from starvation any minute now, but the constant movement of Hungry Cat made getting over to the bowl an ordeal and a half. As soon as the food hit the bottom Sissel immediately tore away from Yomiel and buried his kitty face in it, crunching loudly.

“Whew. You’re pretty needy, aren'tcha?” asked the human, not expecting an answer. The cat just swished his tail, which was probably a response, but also probably not. Things were peaceful again. The memories of the other stray cats were fading. He only had enough room here for this one, anyway, and it wasn’t like they’d helped him figure out how his powers work. They didn’t have Sissel’s name. They weren’t Sissel. They weren’t important.

“You’re a good cat, Sissel.” The name sparked nostalgia in him. Yomiel contemplated getting some wet cat food for his pet, next time.