#and she gotta deal w that somehow

[aroacettorney]

au where bretus kindom took marias selmore as hostage to blackmail casey and have her track down heathcliff van bretus for them

[loregoddess]

saw the first volume of Cursed Princess Club in the store last Sunday as I was walking by the manga section, and the name was so unusual that I looked it up online when I got home, and found out it was on webtoons to read for free, and just finished it, and holy shit

literally one of the best stories I've ever read

[redstarwriting]

bestie

spider squad x black cat!fem!reader

request?: yes

request: “hi! okay i love your works and my brains been rotting thinking abt this lol. i was wondering if i could request a black cat variant! reader that somehow (idk how sorry ), she's apart of the spider-society? Given that black cats backstory isn't all that nice, maybe she has a deal W miguel to let her stay if she makes sure she uses her skills to help the society instead of stealing? and how the squad(miles, gwen, pav, hobie) meet her in the society?”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.1k

genre: platonic and chaotic LMAO

Warnings: language, stealing, bad Spanish, slight Gwen crush if you squint but also like not really

A/N: STOP I LOVE WRITING PLATONIC AND CHAOTIC THINGS!! i did change up the prompt a bit as they didn’t meet her in spider society necessarily (even though the did, they just didn’t know it lol) i hope you enjoy this anon! also if anyone wants to knows some of the specific songs that gave me black cat 2099 vibes lemme know 👀 i’ll make a post

pt ii - becoming hobie’s bestie

───────────────────────────────────

Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie were called to “the principal’s office” as they started calling it. So here they are, in front of Miguel, waiting to be reprimanded for something they did. “I have a mission for the three of you,” he says, pointing to Miles, Gwen, and Pav. “Hobie, you’re not needed.”

“Like ‘ell I’m not,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Miguel subtly smiles to himself. Reverse psychology. Works every time.

“Wait, what?” Miles asks, eyes wide. “You aren’t gonna yell at us for existing?” Gwen asks, equally as surprised. Miguel rolls his eyes. “For existing? When have I ever…” he trails off as Pav, Hobie, and Gwen point at Miles. 

And Miles points at himself. 

“Dios mío,” Miguel mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not doing that. This time.”

“What’s the mission then? Are we going somewhere new? Oh! Can I bring back a souvenir?” Pavitr asks, excitedly. “No, but I’m sure you’ll end up with some sort of souvenir regardless,” Miguel grumbles, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “Well, what do you mean by that?” Gwen asks and Miguel types into his computer. A picture of a girl pops up on the screen. “I need you to bring me her.”

“Uhhh what? You want us to bring you a… civilian?” Miles asks, and Miguel nods. “She’ll respond to you all better. You’re the same age,” Miguel says, and they all glance at each other. “Can you not be secretive for like, a couple of seconds? Is she an anomaly?”

“No, Gwen. Just bring her to Spider Society, please. She’s from this universe, so I’m just sending you to where I need you to go,” Miguel says, opening a portal for them to go through. They all glance at each other before Gwen shrugs, walking through the portal. Miles and Pav follow her, and Hobie rolls his eyes following the three of them. They find themselves… at a show? They’re on top of the catwalk in a stadium show, looking down at the audience. “What the hell?” Gwen mumbles and Hobie is intrigued when he sees the instruments on the stage. “Now why did he send us to a concert?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. Right at that moment, the lights go down and everyone starts to scream. “So, you think she’s in the crowd? How are we supposed to find someone in all of these people?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. “I can do it, easily,” Pav says, and Miles and Gwen give him a Look™. “What?! It’s simple you just look for her face! Miguel showed us a picture of her.”

“Aye, ‘e’s right. Found her,” Hobie says, and they all look at him. He’s pointing, and they follow his finger. “SHE’S THE SINGER?!” Gwen yells as the music starts. “Yeah. Guess we gotta wait for the set to finish,” Hobie says, shrugging and sitting on the catwalk, “Gettin’ a free show outta this shit at least.”

“Oh, please, every show you’ve ever been to has been free,” Gwen says, sitting next to him, taking her mask off. Hobie, Pav, and Miles all follow suit. “What does Miguel want with a singer?”

“I like her outfit,” Pav says, ignoring Miles’ question and sitting next to Gwen. Miles quickly slips between Pav and Gwen, shooing him away slightly. “Not my style. Lyrics ain’t bad,” Hobie says, leaning back and observing the performance, “She can sing, I’ll give ‘er ‘at.”

“I fuck with it. Lyrics speak to me,” Gwen says, and Pav nods. “She seems angry.”

“Yeah, that’s why I can respect what she’s doin’. Threatenin’ and angry music is cool,” Hobie says, bobbing his head up and down. Gwen nods. “Okay, guys, seriously, what does Miguel want with a singer?”

“Maybe she’s a scientist or something? Miguel needs her help?” Gwen suggests, and Miles shakes his head. “Nah, I feel like he’d just meet with her then.”

“He did mention she was close to our age, though. And her songs make it sound like she has an issue with authority,” Pav mentions, and Hobie nods. “I fuck with ‘er.” They all look at him. “Oh, I get it. She’s Hobie’s age,” Gwen says, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “What does ‘at ‘ave to do with anythin’?”

“You two are the same age, both have a problem with authority… whatever she is, she needs someone she can relate to to actually come with us,” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “Guess ‘at makes sense.” The four of them continue watching the concert. Even though it isn’t necessarily punk music, Hobie loves the lyrics. And Gwen loves all of the songs because she understands the lyrics more than the other guys. Miles is enjoying it because Gwen is enjoying it, and Pav is enjoying it because other people are enjoying it. However, neither of them would probably listen to this after this mission. When you’re nearing the end, Miles slips his mask back on. “Alright, everyone. What’s the plan?”

“We need to get backstage,” Gwen says, slipping her mask on as well. “‘ave a gander down there,” Hobie says, pointing at some marks on the stage. “What’s that?” Pav asks. “Pyrotechnics. When they go off, we go in,” Hobie says, and they all nod. “Hope they’re big enough that no one sees us,” Gwen mumbles and Hobie scoffs. “Gwendy, it’s a stadium show. It’s ‘bout to be big,” he says. The four of them prepare, running along the catwalk and getting ready to web back to where you would disappear to. Sure enough, the pyrotechnics go off and Hobie was right. They’re big. It gives them the advantage as they slip undetected backstage. They hide high up, watching as you run offstage after your encore. They silently follow you to your dressing room and Miles points at an air vent. Gwen nods, quietly yanking it off of its hinges. She crawls inside, taking a glance to make sure you’re still clothed, and then motions for the boys to follow.

Meanwhile, you’re wiping your makeup off, sipping on some water to soothe your throat from your performance. You walk away from the giant mirror to go grab a snack in the corner of the room when, suddenly, you feel like someone is watching you. You subtly unsheathe your hairbrush, which doubles as a dagger. Just in case. You take a deep breath, turning around, and throwing it. Miles leaps out of the way, and the other three’s eyes are wide. The accuracy with that throw was a little too good. “None of you are Miguel,” you say, on edge still. “Ay, don’t compare me to that bloody bloke. I’d rather die than be called ‘im,” Hobie says, and you give him an amused look. “I can arrange that,” you say, and Gwen clears her throat. “I just wanted to say your concert was like, totally, awesome.”

“Aw, thanks! Did you pay to watch?” you ask and she looks around. “Well uh… I, um—” She gets cut off by your laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t,” you explain. “Oh! Then no. Too cool to pay, you know?” Gwen rambles and Miles turns his head to her, giving her a look that translates into ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ You chuckle. “Why are you four here, then? Señor O’Hara miss me?” you take a bite of the snack you picked, leaning against the wall. “How do you know Miguel?” Pav asks and you snort. “Long story. Oh! He finally find out I took something from him?” you ask, tossing your food to the side and crossing your arms. “I… we actually don’t know. He just said we had to bring you back to—”

“Wait he’s actually inviting me into his super secret spider society?” you ask, a look of excitement spreading across your face. “Uh. Yes?” Miles says, and you squeal. “This is so exciting! My first time being invited, okay, great, hold on,” you say, quickly running off and behind the changing room divider. “Uh… you’re just gonna come with us?” Gwen asks, and you yell a quick ‘yep!’ They all look at each other and shrug. “No offense, sweet’eart, but I thought it woulda been ‘arder to convince ya. Wasn’t aware bein’ invited by a stuck-up wanker like ‘im was all it would take,” Hobie says, and they hear a giggle from behind the screen. “Oh this isn’t my first time in his little fanclub,” you step out from behind the divider, garnishing an all-black catsuit with shiny black gloves coming to claws at the fingers. A small eye mask adorns your face, and you smirk. “It’s just the first time he’ll know I’m there.”

“Holy shit, no way! You’re Black Cat!” Gwen says, and you do a little curtsy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance officially, Gwen Stacy,” you say, and her eyes get big. “How did you know—”

“Like I said. Not my first time there. Surprising since you all have that spidey sense or whatever, but guess I’m just that good,” you say, pulling out a dimension-hopping watch. “When did you—”

“Do I have to say I’ve been to your Spidertopia already again? Come on, I’m sure your pendejo of a boss is waiting for us,” you grin, and Hobie shakes his head. “Not my boss. I like you, though. Gettin’ fuck the establishment vibes,” he says, and you wink at him. “Thanks, Hobie Brown. Appreciate it. Also, Pavitr, you need to tell me what your haircare routine is,” you walk through the portal, and the four of them follow after you. Sure enough, you step out of the portal and stand right in front of Miguel’s desk. “Hello there, Spider-Boy,” you say, and he sighs. “(Y/n). Give me the device back. Now.”

“I’m good, actually. Been having too much fun with it,” you say, placing it on your wrist. He mutters something in Spanish as the four of them appear behind you. “Wait, if you’re Black Cat, why are you like… a superstar?” Miles asks, taking his mask off. “Was told at a young age to never settle for second best. So, I never did. Also if you want to steal from the big leagues, you have to be in with the big leagues,” you say, shrugging. “Damn, she is… so cool,” Gwen whispers. “We have an agreement, (Y/n),” MIguel says and you groan. “Miguel! Big guy, amigo, can I call you that?”

“No.”

“Don’t care, when have I ever stuck with an agreement?” you ask and he frowns. “This is all because you want to be able to come here whenever you want, isn’t it?” he asks and you grin. “You’re so smart, bestie,” you say and he groans. “You’re impossible.”

“I know. So can I come here and not have to worry about multiple spiders biting me all at once?” you ask, and he sighs. “Yes.”

“YE—”

“BUT!”

“Fuck, there’s a but,” you groan, as he continues talking, “No. Stealing.” You feign offense. “What makes you think I would ever steal something from here?” He points to your wrist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This was gifted to me.”

“By who.”

“Myself.”

“Esta maldita chica,” he mumbles, and you grin. “Well, thank you so much for approving my breaking and entering of your little arachnid club. I’ll be sure to return everything I’ve taken in hopes that you would notice I wanted to be invited,” you grin, and he clenches his jaw. “You step one toe out of line—”

“I woooon’t! Promise! Before I return everything though, I kinda have a heist planned in Earth-42,” you shrug, pulling up a portal. “I’ll tell Miles you said hi, Miles,” you give him a smirk, but before disappearing into the portal, you hear Miguel. “When you’re done come back here. I actually might be able to use you for something.”

You smile at him. “Say less, Spider-Man.” Then, you disappear. “We’re about to see a lot more of her, aren’t we?” Miles asks, and Miguel sighs and nods. “Dude! She is so cool!” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “She don’t take shit from no one. Respectable.”

“She’s funny! And she was able to shut you down, Miguel, that never happens,” Pav says, laughing a bit. “She seems kinda crazy,” Miles says.”

“What, like we aren’t?” Gwen retaliates and he shrugs. “I am perfectly sane! Most of the time…”

Miguel runs his hand through his hair in frustration as the four of them continue discussing you while walking out of the room.

He was not looking forward to the friendship the five of you were about to form.

───────────────────────────────────

[pedge-page]

does tommy ever feel the wrath of joel’s pregnant wife or does she reserve that specifically for joel? I feel like tommy would get on her nerves a little bit 😂

I was waiting for someone to ask this! Tbh I think preggo wife saves her wrath for Joel simply because shes comfortable with him and can relax and let her guard down. With Tommy alone....

Tommy Dealing with Preggo Wife

Warnings: just language and Joel and Wife being insecure in their own (slightly toxic) ways

- - - -

You were super pregnant at this point. A couple weeks away from making Joel a doting husband to a doting father, and he was probably more on edge than you were. Your anxious little poor husband Joel, freaking out that he needed to take a weekend trip away, and the only person he can rely to watch over you--

"I don't need to be fucking baby sat--!"

-- his sweet, helpless, innocent little pregnant wife, is unfortunately, Tommy.

"Ok listen very carefully," Joel starts, now having Tommy's full attention like he's about to ask him to do his first heart transplant. "She doesn't go anywhere unless you decide. She eats what you put in front of her, and you don't take her shit. She's gonna be bitchy and whiny and crying. She needs to rest. Rub her shoulder, put her feet up, whatever. But you gotta tough through and just make sure she understands that you're in charge. And what you say, goes. Got it?"

He knows Joel is relying on him to take care of his most precious belonging...who also is the devil. "Ok...ok. I mean it's like a... like watching a toddler, right?" Tommy asks, unsure about the whole thing.

"Yeah... a pregnant one that weighs more than ya and swears and probably will slap you a lot."

Joel smacks Tommy's shoulder lovingly with an encouraging smile.

Tommy feels even more hesitant. but he knows that he just needs to channel his inner Joel this weekend: stern, unmoving, and commanding, and he'll do just fine navigating you.

Joel hugs you real tight and kisses your forehead, inhaling your hair deeply as if to etch it into his brain. "I love you, baby, I'm gonna miss you so--"

"Later fucker." you pat his bum and wave him off as you waddle away in his large T shirt towards the freezer drawer, pulling out a Ben and Jerry's fudge pint with wet lips and a grin.

Tommy shrugs and helps Joel out to the truck with his bag. he waves goodbye as his brother backs out the driveway, shouting "YOU'RE IN CHARGE!"

I'm in charge, I'm in charge, he chants to himself, taking a deep breath before entering your house again.

"Alright!" he claps his hands together awkwardly but with a tone leadership. "We are going to stay in bed today,"

"Mall," you grump though a big scoop of ice cream.

"W-what?"

"M'goin ta mall. Yur takin mee," you nod towards him casually, gulping another spoon.

"uhh-h." Tommy looks around anxiously. Was this part of the test? He should put his foot down, yeah, Joel said you go no where unless Tommy explicitly said so. "N-no."

you swallow. "'Scuse me?"

"N-no? I mean... no! I said, we are putting you in bed, and what i say, go--"

"Thomas Miller," you say, and an eerie sense of fear swallows Tommy, sending shivers all over his body. Despite the 90 degree forecast, its like someone just tossed his insides into a freezer, and you were locking him in.

"Y-yes...maam," he whispers, feeling small.

"We can either do this... the hard way," you tilt your head with a sinister gaze towards him, as if referencing that bit of "Joel" he's trying to channel inside. "Or, we can do this... my way." The way you smile at the end is somehow even more threatening than the chilled tone you're having with him.

It was like when he and Joel broke his grandma's vase, and rather than yelling at them, she had the exact same terrifyingly threatening voice, and it made Tommy sleep with one eye open for a week.

"What will it be, Thomas."

He remembers to breathe shakily through his nose, licking his parched lower lip.

He doesn't want to be known as the guy who got beat up by his pregnant sister in law.

-

"Do you want a pretzel?" you ask kindly.

"Ah... no--no that's okay--"

"I'm getting you one, honey, just say Thank you."

"Okay. T-thank you."

Tommy bites into the cinnamon sugar one with the extra glaze you had ordered, and he had never felt such sweet heaven.

"Joel used to yell at me for my sweet tooth," he admits as the two of you stuff your faces and waltz slowly down the mall halls.

"Me too!" you bump his shoulder heartily.

Tommy lets out a relaxed sigh. From the moment he agreed to do whatever it was you wanted, the weekend had been fantastic. Turns out, you're not only super fun to blast kareoke to the worst songs in the car, but also all full of warmth, laughter, and even more suprisingly, extremely generous at offering to spoil him rotten like a mother with her favorite child.

"What can I make you for dinner?"

"Wha--no I'm supposed to cook for you--"

"Tommy stop please. I want to make you something. You have to be stuck with me all day walking like a slow penguin. I want to do something for you. You deserve it. "

You hadn't noticed Tommy pausing along your walk, watching you in awe as you waddled about, gently caressing your tummy absentmindedly as you window shopped.

This was the demon that Joel complained about every hour of the day???

And even more concerning was: how did someone like JOEL manage to score a girl like YOU???

You were so peaceful, generous, kind, loving, all smiles and willing to take care of him.

Was he doing everything right or everything wrong?

The two of you return home, with Tommy hauling more gifts that you had bought him. He really wasn't able to protest, with you somehow disappearing from sight conveniently, to his horror that he somehow lost you like a puppy in the park, and then finding you suddenly swiping your card at a register.

He should feel bad, truly, but you were just in such a good mood, he didn't want to seem ungrateful. And he also.... really liked all of it.

"Oh these are so fuckin nice!" He cheers, pulling out the new sneakers you had just bought in it's wrapping paper. "Mine are--"

"Old and ratty, yes I know that's why I bought them. Sick of your nasty shoes trailing my house--"

"S-sorry--"

"Bought you some fuzzy slippers too so you can switch out when you come in."

"Im not really a slippers guy..."

"You are now."

You ended up making a quick spaghetti, slapping him away every time he tried to hover in the kitchen. "I wanna stand! good exercise!" you nod with a smile.

And it seemed like you meant it. Despite babyzilla cooking and ready to burst out, you were light on your feet in the kitchen. Like a ballerina dancing and swaying, you hummed to a tune in your head as you tasted the sauce on the spatula. You were in the zone, in your world. and it was genuinely... beautiful. He understood it now, when people say pregnant women glow. the entire time, Joel always said you did, but he only ever saw how tired the pregnancy made the both of you.

Was... Joel the problem?

After a hearty dinner, Tommy washed up the dishes. You said your goodnights and headed to your master bedroom, tucked in, and lights off just as Tommy gathered his pillows down the hall in the guest bedroom.

He sighs, laying on his belly and inhaling the fresh linen before closing his eyes.

Not more than a few moments pass before he hears some sniffles down the hall. Then again, a cough and whine.

He sits up and heads down to your room, the door cracked and dark. he flips the light switch on to see you sitting upright in your bed, rubbing your eyes.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

"M'good!" you give him two thumbs up. "Night!"

He nods and flips the switch off again, turning away. he doesn't make it two steps before he hears your unmistakable crying.

He turns the lights back on to see you wiping fat tears from your cheeks, sobbing into your shirt--Joel's shirt.

"Hey...what's wrong? Are you okay? ya in pain? What can I--"

You pull your face up, lips trembling and all tear soaken. He sees your clutching one of Joel's jackets in your hands, wrapped tightly like you don't want it to leave you. A completely emotional mess as you huff and puff.

He puts the pieces together. "Ya miss Joel, don't you--"

"I MISS HIMMMMMM!!!!!!!!" you wail, erupting into a long cry into the air with slunked shoulders and larger tears strolling down from the creases of your closed eyes.

He tightens his lips awkwardly, not wanting to let out a chuckles. Turns out big scary pregnant "later fucker" wife really did love that dumbass. Its also probably the first time he sees bags under your eyes, like you were hiding your exhaustion. When Joel is around, you almost never looked tired. Just pouty and groutchy like a spoiled senior cat.

Maybe Joel wasnt the problem, but the solution. He knew how to take care of you, knew what you needed when you needed it, knew when to put his foot down, and even when hed watch you two bicker and bitch, joel knew exactly how to get you in bed wrapped around him like gumby. Every. Single. Night.

He rubs your arm soothingly.

"Why"-hiccup--"did he"--sniffle--"leave me!"

"He aint leave ya, just had some work."

"HE HATES ME!!!!!!!!!"

He shakes his head, knowing you're inconsolable. rather than trying to reason, he brings you to his shoulder so you can cry your heart out on him as he hugs you. "There there," he hums, swaying you two side to side.

like a crying toddler indeed.

"M'sorry," you whimper, rubbing your eyes with your balled fists. "Wakin' you up, me crying like this. I can't--I can't help it some times..." your voice waivers, face warm in embarrassment that you're burdening Tommy so much.

"Don't sweat it. You did a lot today. Can I get you anything to cheer you up?" he suggests, expecting a trip down to the freezer for a nice tub of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cr--

"Can you get the jar of pickles?"

That...is fine too.

He brings up the largest jar of dill pickles he's ever seen in his life, sets them in your lap. He pops open the sturdy lid for your eager fingers to pull a long dill out and slink it into your lips. the satisfying crunch echoes in the room as you munch.

You start crying again. "I Fucking HATE Pickles!" you groan angrily before taking another generous crunch with a confusingly delightful hum. "Like--I hate it, but they're good?"

He chuckles, taking a piece. He pauses, eying you fearfully as if he made a wrong move not asking your permissions to take one of your hated yet coveted pickles. You nod, and the two of you crunch down on the peculiar snack.

"It's probably from the baby..."

"Fuckin' weirdo." you pat the rounded hump of your tummy and swallow the rest of your slice. Though, the way you stroke along the skin so delicately with a little smirk, he knows you're already in love with your "fuckin weirdo" baby more than anyone could love anything in this world.

Tommy never really thought about the word "uncle" until this moment, and the first emotion he has to associate it with, is excitement.

"Mkay. I'm done now." You hold the jar out to him so he can close it. "Thank you, Tommy," you say sweetly with the gentlest, sleepiest smile. "I really appreciate it."

THIS IS THE ANGEL JOEL HAS THE NERVES TO COMPLAIN ABOUT????

He swears, if Joel comes back and calls him up later saying how insufferable you are, he may just have to size up and smack his big brother.

Tommy pats your head, tucks you in again and turns of the lights.

-

The next day you make Tommy take you to breakfast and get him as many pancakes and French toast he can stuff his face with. A spoiled little brother indeed, and as he swallows another lump of the best breakfast eggs he's ever had, he wonders how sweet life would have been with a big sister like you spoiling him every day instead of Joel making him do chores and shit.

Its not until Joel is meeting the two of you at a lunch spot that Tommy remembers exactly what Joel always groans about.

"Hi baby!" He grins, rushing to give you a big hug for the first time in two days.

And despite your crying for him last night, you only retort with "sup fucker" casually and near bored, as if you weren't sniffing his jacket and Wagging your imaginary tail in disguise.

Joel purses his lips sarcastically, knowing you mean well, and Tommy laughs. You two definitely understood each other way better than he thought.

"Im gonna wash my hands, you two get a table," Joel says, and disappears down the back entrance.

Your waitress greets you just as Tommy is helping you slide down into the booth, big baby belly and all.

"Just three waters, please,"

"And a pepsi! Lots of ice. Two pepsis actually. And bread. And maybe like uh milkshake to start off?--"

The waitress glances at Tommy with a raised brow, wondering if you're genuine or not. He shrugs and nods, noting "she's pretty far along if ya can tell."

"My older sister was the same way. I'll get that in. You two...sorry I shouldn't say it but you two make a cute couple--" she says kindly.

Unfortunately, its exactly at the same Joel returns and hears that last bit, directed towards you and Tommy.

She walks away just as you catch Joels bewildered expression, conveniently with Tommy's hand on your bump and another around your lower back (supporting you into the booth of course but JOEL doesn't see it that way with this new context).

You and Tommy open your mouths to dismiss the claim and misunderstanding, but ever defensive Joel just shoves Tommy aside, slides into your booth next to you and slams your hand into his lap, his bear paws enclosed around yours. Tommy quietly slides into the opposite end, met with Joels flaring nostrils and billowing steam coming out of them.

The younger Miller realizes that slapping some sense into Joel and "sizing him up" was a total pipe dream. He'd be lucky to live long enough to an uncle at this point.

You gotta defend your poor brother in law. "The waitress just saw--"

"Cute couple, huh," he seethe with gritted teeth his entire seething focus at Tommy rather than paying any mind to you.

"Joel stop, Tommy was REALLY great to me this weekend--"

"Oh I BET he was," he grunts, turning towards you with a scowl. "S'that why he got new shoes on?" Joel damn well knows Tommy didn't just pony up and buy new shit for himself this weekend, given he refuses to buy himself anything new for years past it's expiration.

Tommy knows he's never allowed to baby sit you alone again at this rate.

"She was crying last night saying how much she missed ya," Tommy blurts.

You kick his shin under the table, not wanting to let Joel know what a pathetic groveling mess--

"Wait really!?" he nuzzles closer to your, as if all the anger in his body dissipated at the notion his poor little wife was calling out for her hubby.

Tommy chuckles and nods. "We shared some pickles in bed, ain't that right?"

You slap your face just as Joel rears his once again flaring red face towards Tommy. "You did WHAT in WHERE????"

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[blogfromneptune]

MELODIC HEALING

PAIRING clarisse la rue x apollodaughter!reader

IN WHICH clarisse and her siblings got a bit carried away during their sparing matches. lucky for clarisse, her girlfriend has gentle hands and a way with magic.

w/c : 1275

a/n : dior. that’s it… enjoy :)

sweat dripped from her brow as clarisse walked through camp. her siblings had ropped her into yet another sparing tournament which she won with ease. she was rather annoyed, to be frank. she loved her siblings, yes. she also loved battles. but she had plans to wake up early to properly freshen up and take her girlfriend for a walk after breakfast.

instead, she was awoken by the sound of an argument between her siblings; two of the newer members of the cabin arguing about gods knows what. that put her on a bad foot to begin with. she spent the time she could have had getting ready dealing with them and barking at them to clean up their mess. breakfast was anything but what she wanted. she scraped her offerings into the fire silently praying to her father to show up and tell her siblings off, before she walked back to her table where her brothers were beginning to arm wrestle.

one of their arms landed in her food and instead of yelling and knocking them right then and there, she slid her now squashed food away from her, stood up, and walked away.

when one of her sisters asked if she wanted to spar, she was already fuming with her cabin, so she agreed. it didn’t take long for all her siblings to be groaning on the floor, battered and bruised. clarisse stood tall above them, her face neutral and sweaty. she tossed her spear at her newest little brother, who caught it with ease. “make sure they see one of the apollo kids, or something.” and with that, she was off to find her apollo kid.

she heard her before she saw her. the sweet humming of her girlfriend brought a small smile onto the face of the daughter of ares. the apollo cabin came into view, and there she was, sitting with her older brother, will, and one of her new younger sisters. she was doing her hair, a variation of braids and twists that she somehow made look gorgeous.

her girlfriend was humming a tune as will laid beside her, an old, beaten cowboy hat covering his face and his green flannel covering his body as a blanket.

“…she brought this on herself with her desires. Your family will be stained, gotta walk away… now.” clarisse stood off to the side for a bit, listening to whatever melody her girlfriend was singing now, until she caught her eye.

a smile grew on the daughter of apollos face as she was sticking flowers in her sister's hair, but her smile faltered.

clarisse was quick to raise her hands, grazing her face with her fingertips. she winced as they made contact with the large gash she had forgotten about. she knew she was going to get an earful…

will groaned and raised his hat a bit, peeking out when his sister stopped her tune. he made eye contact with clarisse and the ever-noticeable mark on her face. he hissed, sitting up and gripping his flannel.

“come on, skipper. let’s leave sis with her uh…” will trailed off, deciding to leave it at that. he took his new little sisters' upper arms and pulled her up, managing to get her on his back. they quickly retreated into their cabin.

clarisse was careful with her steps, biting the inside of her cheeks.

this big, scary woman, looked up to by many campers and also feared by many campers, felt scared of her sweet little sunshine girlfriend…

who could probably kill her with a single note if she wanted to.

she mounted the steps, her girlfriend looking away from her as she tidied up the elastics and ribbons. her cowboy hat rested on the armrest of the rocking chair she sat in. it was a gift from will for her 18th. it matched her perfectly; a nice beige colour with a baby pink ribbon wrapped around it and tiny string embroidery of daisies and sunflowers.

she grabbed it gingerly and placed it over her wind-messed hair. she wordlessly stood up and looked at clarisse.

clarisse clenched her teeth into an awkward smile, “hey baby -”

“clarisse la rue.”

shit.

“hun, i’m sorry -”

“let me have a look at you,” the daughter of apollo whispered, coming up on her tiptoes and taking her girlfriend's face in between her hands. she turned it side to side, up and down, examining every inch.

clarisse allowed it, bending down and looking up to the sky. she knew how much the ray of sunshine hated when she fought others. whether it be verbal or physical, it didn’t matter. clarisse tried to stop the habit once they became official, but sometimes it was hard to avoid.

and since she hadn’t gone on any quest, she didn’t have a good reason this time.

the daughter of apollo took one of her girlfriend's hands, bringing her over and sitting her in the rocking chair she had been in only minutes ago. clarisse groaned as she sat, the aching of her muscles from this morning finally catching up to her.

she watched her girlfriend go inside her cabin and then come out with a little box she had grown to recognize as the official first aid kit of the apollo cabin. she knelt in front of her and gestured for her to lean forward, which clarisse did.

with no warning, she placed a cotton pad with alcohol on it to her cheek. clarisse flinched and hissed, the liquid feeling as though it was sizzling on her flesh.

“don’t be a baby,” her girlfriend whispered, hiding the little smile on her face as she looked down to grab another cotton pad.

“‘m not being a baby.” clarisse sounded like she was pouting. she would never act this way around anyone. but the girl in front of her brought out a completely different side of her.

she adored it.

clarisse closed her eyes, letting her girlfriend hum a small tune and the gash beginning to glow. it was like the scene from rapunzel- the movie clarisse was forced to see at gunpoint (gunpoint = her girlfriend's smile and puppy dog eyes).

she felt the wound begin to close in on itself. it was still a weird feeling, despite having experienced it many times before.

“there.” clarisse opened her eyes. the first aid kit was packed up and placed next to the entrance to the cabin. her cheek didn’t hurt anymore and all that remained was a faint scar that would heal by morning.

“thank you,” clarisse grinned but it didn’t help her situation. her girlfriend raised a brow, expecting her to explain.

she sighed and reached for her arm, her own calloused and bruised hand feeling as though it was tainting the delicacy of the sun gods daughter. “just a little tournament. had to let out some anger.” clarisse’ voice was low.

the daughter of apollo took a small step, her western-style cowboy boots clacking against the ground. both she and will came from southern families, but she never showed it until she got comfortable in camp. now she didn’t hide the slight ting of an accent she had or her love for the southern style.

“i don’t like it when you fight,” she said lowly, standing in front of clarisse and both her hands wrapped in hers. clarisse brought them up and grazed her lips on her knuckles, the faint smell of flower hand sanitizer filling her nose.

“i know… i’m sorry, sunshine.” when clarisse glanced up, her girlfriend was smiling down at her. just like the sun looked down on the earth.

[primaviva]

ICKS

PAIRINGS: gwen stacy, miles morales (42 included) hobie brown, pavitr prabhakar, miguel o’hara x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: things that give the teens and adults major icks from their girlfriends and crushes.

WARNINGS: mentions of toxic traits within relationships such as controlling behavior, privacy and boundary violations, etc. also not proof read !!

— GWEN STACY

to start, gwen is pretty easy going so it would take a lot for her to get the ick from her girlfriend or a girl she likes

PRIVACY: gwen wants her privacy and she will definitely start grimacing at you when you don’t respect her need for alone time or give her space when she wants.

this is like a definite turn-off for her and a major ick because she wants someone who will support her even from a distance and if you keep tryna force her out of her time alone… yeah you gotta go in her mind

TERRITORIAL: it’s not that gwen doesn’t like a jealousy moment. if she sees you death staring at someone who’s looking at her or tryna flirt with her while you’re right next to her because she loves when you get all sassy or jealous. she finds it cute.

buuuut that’s completely different from toxic jealousy like borderline territoriality. gwen does not want someone on her case 24/7. she will get the ick if she notices you constantly blowing up her phone. gwen has a life that she balances outside of being ghost spider and if you are spamming her texts when she just wants to hang w her friends and not you just for a moment then congrats cus she’s sticking her tongue out turning green ICK!!

EFFORT: gwen wants her partner to be motivated and just try for things instead of doing the bare minimum or something close to that.

example. if you wear sweats to dates or just basic outfits that look like you don’t care or show up a mess and you don’t have a real reason for it. she gets that life can be hard and she’s had a fair share of just putting on clothes for the sake of getting dressed. however, if you just do that just cus you don’t care you will have her so irritated. gwen is a fashion girl and is always trying to look good and attractive to you when she gets dressed for dates and if you always showing up lookin like adam sandler for the murder mystery movie premiere then i'm sorry but it’s not gonna work for her at all

“how did i come dressed in multiple layers of clothing and jewelry but you somehow, someway came to the conclusion to wear a soccer moms everyday work clothes? you can’t be doing this to me.”

RESPECT: gwen does not want a girlfriend who’s gonna act all high maintenance or try to make her do things she doesn’t want. if you’re always trying to change her or peer pressure her to do stuff that isn’t her personality she will start getting mad at you

example. she tells you that she isn’t comfortable with obvious pda yet you try to kiss her in public anyway

if you don’t respect how she feels as an equal then she can't be with with you it’s that simple

LEGALITY AND MORALITY: gwen wouldn’t be able to deal with someone who breaks the law that’s not for the good of others or does things they shouldn’t be doing. she would get the ick if her girlfriend smoked, did drugs, shoplifted, etc.

she would not get the ick per say just from seeing you smoke but gwen’s dad raised her by the book and she wouldn’t feel too comfortable being with her girlfriend or crush who does stuff she was raised to say is bad

unless you smoke or do other things for stress relief, she would be understanding but still try and get you out of it just for your own sake. but if you do stuff just to do it then it’s a bit of a dealbreaker for her. gwen will not have a girlfriend who’s face is posted on the door of fine fare cus she was caught shoplifting paper plates

MUSIC: this really isn’t an ick but if you have music taste she deems bad… and that’s gonna take a lot considering that gwen listens to everything but country like you would have to be born and raised in ohio for her to get the ick because of your playlists

and this wouldn’t be a deal breaker because she would gladly put you on with songs but if you disrespect her taste in music like that may be her third biggest turn-off after privacy and respect.

if you have even one country song on the playlist she might start violently convulsing

she’s a drummer so rock and alternative music is rooted in her passion so if her girl didn’t like her music taste or her bands music she would struggle a bit…. a lot

and if we talk about ICKS she can’t even say anything because she probably chews with her mouth open and gets her hands dirty cus this woman eats fast food crazy. she would hate it if you said cringe stuff in like a non satire way like if she caught you saying sum like “not in my christian minecraft server”

“babe, it’s 2023… not 2018 so don’t make me break up with you, okay?”

to summarize, gwen icks at if her girlfriend or crush doesn’t like her music taste because she can’t deal with someone who doesn’t appreciate something she’s passionate about, she doesn’t want someone who is overly clingy and controlling of her whereabouts especially if you don’t know she’s spiderwoman or she’s just wants to hang with her friends, she needs someone who will respect her privacy and her boundaries, she doesn’t want someone who she knows her dad will not like for their bad actions, and she wants someone who tries just as hard as her in what they do.

— HOBIE BROWN

hobie is another one where it’s hard to give him the ick

BOUNDARIES: he doesn’t want someone who is overly clingy or attached to his side. hobie wants his partner to have their own life and he can recognize when it’s unhealthy that two people in a relationship are closing themselves off to their friends for the sake of being together every moment. this also goes hand in hand with if all you want to do is has sex with him because to him, it’s more than just a high libido but you’re just using him physically. and don’t get him wrong he is just fine with a partner with a high libido but a constant demand for sex… he’s gonna raise an eyebrow.

“can ya like not try and claw my clothes right off for a minute? damn.”

but if he tells you something and you do it anyway it’s a total ick for him when he gives you something you’re supposed to respect but don’t.

example. if he asked for time alone to be absorbed in his own music cus it’s what he needs and you ignore it to do the exact opposite… very off-putting and weird to him

COMMUNICATION: communication is very important to hobie. he thinks it’s very important that partners comunícate their issues to each other or else it just leads to problems along the way

that being said, hobie hates it when you don’t tell him something. not in the sense that something happened to you and you won’t open up about it because he would never force that information out of you. however, if something is wrong and you just choose not to tell him? he absolutely hates that. it would just hurt him if you didn’t trust him to speak your mind or feel comfortable enough, especially since he’s always there for you

he will hate it even more when you lie to him like that’s a borderline deal breaker if you are constantly lying or doing half lies

IMMORAL: he doesn’t want somebody who has a bad moral compass and chooses to do bad things. and bad things don’t mean bad choices, it means someone who steals from others who are struggling themselves, someone who is rude to people for no reason, etc.

this is also related to if his girl is unfaithful as in if she flirts with others, entertains other guys or girls, and if she outright cheats or sleeps with someone else

this is a definite “you gots to go” situation

BORING: hobie is always tryna have fun and live in the moment and if the girl he likes or is dating can't do that then the relationship is doomed.

“ya gotta stop bein’ a downer on the mood doll. learn to live a little for once in yer life, yeah?”

by boring, i mean someone who can’t let loose and try to have fun. if you are super uptight, overly critical, or just don’t get his sense of humor or even have one then he’s gonna get the ick because he doesn’t want someone killing his vibe by taking everything too seriously or refusing to try and live a little

he also doesn’t want a drama queen like if you do way too much… yeah no

MUSIC: similar to gwen, if you don’t like his music taste he’s not sure if he will be able to continue the relationship

yes, this sounds like a big deal but you have to understand that music is a big part of his life and is one of his passions. it’s one thing to simply not be into rock and even that he’s iffy on, but for you to dislike it completely or drag it on? hobie wouldn’t be able to stand it

to summarize, hobie needs someone who’s gonna understanding his passion for music like him, he also doesn’t want someone who’s immoral and actively makes bad choices that they don’t need to, he also wants someone who can communicate to him as well as respects what he communicates back, and he desires someone who can match his energy

— MILES AND MILES G. MORALES

miles knows the type of people he wants around him so if he saw his girlfriend or crush doing any of these things he would definitely get the ick

MORALS: if you are objectively a bad person like just being mean for no reason, making offense joke (racism, transphobia, body image, etc) and passing it as your “sense of humor” or just literally anything where you are actively trying to disrupt someone’s peace he is literally fake vomiting at you

example. you see a girl wearing a perfectly fine outfit, not something crazy looking or anything, and make a rude comment involving her normal sense of style, body, looks, etc he is just turned all the way off

miles doesn’t want someone with an ego or someone who doesn’t show empathy for others so…ICK

NEEDY: miles wants a girl who is independent and has her own interests. so if his girlfriend or crush is always trying to hang out with him when he is trying to do his own thing or link with friends of his own but they won’t leave him alone? yeah it won’t work out.

he likes it when he knows his girl can take care of herself, even if he does like to play the protective role. but miles also knows that he has to balance life as a superhero, boyfriend, son, and friend to those around him and if you just make that more hard for him then he will get frustrated with the clinginess when he just wants to spend time with his loved ones. to an extent, he thinks a clingy girlfriend is cute! but overdoing it is just annoying and in a way takes away his own freedom to do things he wants.

example. his crush or girlfriend constantly trying to be next to him no matter what, especially in public when they are with friends or if they are both invited to a hangout and miles says he won’t go so his girl says she won’t go either just because he isn’t going (not because you know no one there, but only because miles isn’t doing it)

TRUST: trust is a big thing for miles. he wants to be vulnerable with his girlfriend and also be able to confide in her as well as get that same treatment back. if miles notices that you don’t have his back as much as you should, he will get a weird feeling from it but also very irritated because he feels he is there for you and as a girlfriend you should be giving the same energy back— if not more.

this also includes lying. miles hates it when you lie to him even if it’s a half lie or the “bended” truth. he takes it as a sign of dishonesty and that you may not be as loyal as he thought. he also counts lying as if you don’t tell him something and brush it off by saying everything is fine with you when it clearly isn’t.

“i don’t know why you saying you good when you clearly have a problem. you can talk to me, you know that right?”

it would physically kill him if you pulled a “well…” and then said nvm because that’s something he hates the most cus now he’s gonna be wondering what it was until you tell him. it will haunt him.

PRESSURE: miles doesn’t want to be pressured into doing things or guilt tripped. sometimes he doesn’t feel like going on a date or hanging out, but if you make him feel a certain way for choosing to be indoors and reading he will feel bad and force himself to do whatever you wanted to do. he doesn’t want that.

miles wants to feel comfortable in his relationship with you and doesn’t want to feel like he needs to conform to your needs and wants in fear that it will distort the idea you have of him. he doesn’t want to be taken away from his hobbies and interest that give him peace from the chaotic lifestyle he has, meaning that he really values his alone time to just be with himself.

DIRECTNESS: miles does not want to chase you and get down on his knees just for you to be honest or say how you feel. he also doesn’t what you to feel pressured but at the same time will get a little frustrated if you can’t open up to him even if he does understand. at the same time, miles doesn’t want you doing the silent treatment, playing mind games, or trying to make him jealous. that is one of his define icks because why are you purposely trying to ruin his mood and be petty?

BAD ATTITUDE: he hates it when you go out of your way to be disrespectful to someone who doesn’t deserve it.

example. his girlfriend or crush is rude to other people for the sake of looking “badass” while he tells you to just chill

and if you talk bad on your mama? if you just talk bad on your family when they don’t deserve it in general…it’s a definite ick because of how important his family is

example. if you have a mom or female guardian in your life and call them out of their name, make disrespectful comments, etc when they do simple things that annoy you instead of genuinely causing you distress or harm

“who gave you the audacity to talk about ya moms like that? she does a lot for you so you better chill with that. c’mon now she don’t deserve allat.”

it’s a major ick for him.

to summarize, miles wants a girlfriend that is there to support him whether it means being physically with him or allowing him the space he needs. he doesn’t want somebody who is going to stress him out on purpose, do things he doesn’t agree with morally, make him question his trust, and play with his feelings. AND RESPECT YOUR PARENTS.

— PAVITR PRABHAKAR

AFFECTION: pavitr is very physically affectionate and just shows his love very up-front. if he tries to hug you, hold your hand, or even touch you just a little and you give a almost disgusted reaction it definitely gives him the ick. and not in the sense that you are uncomfortable with physical touch, but if his girlfriend seems annoyed by him trying to show his love it definitely turns him off a little. not listening to him, not making an effort to talk to him, etc. it’s like when you go to hug someone and they try to close themself off mid hug and back away jus because…

example. pavitr laughs really hard at something his girlfriend says and goes to give her a playful touch but instead he sees her giving him a glare for laughing so loud before telling him to quiet down and backs away from his grasp

PESSIMISTIC: he doesn’t always expect you to be happy go lucky about life because if anyone knows that not every day is a happy one— it’s him. however, if you are constantly negative and bringing down happy moments for him or good news by the potential bad that can come from it or just always complaining? you’re basically killing his vibe and the last thing pavitr wants is to have a girlfriend that won’t be a energy vampire and will support him wanting to look on the bright side. he is spiderman after all it’s literally his job to give hope and he will try to inspire you but if he finds that his crush his continuously complaining or being negative when there is no need he will start to be turned off by the behavior.

he tries to start each day positive and be a light at the end of the tunnel for others who see him trying even after a bad day and if you aren’t with that you gotta go

“how come is it that every time something good is happening, your first thought is to say the worse thing that comes to mind? i think you may be struggling with something..”

BORING: this doesn’t mean boring in the sense that pavitr girlfriend or crush isn’t fun, but boring as in she tends to be lazy/a shut-in and doesn’t want to go out much. he is fine with staying in but he wants a girl who is gonna put just as much effort into seeing him as he is going to being the hopeless romantic he is. he definitely gets frustrated if you have a nonchalant attitude or don’t care about things because he feels like you should always work hard in what you do even when it comes to things in your personal life.

example. he wants to take you out but you rather stay inside and watch a movie even though you two haven’t went out in a while

EXES: this is a definite turn off if you talk about exes too much and not even in a way where you open up about possible trauma/hardships you endured but reminiscing certain times, discussing talking stages before you both got together, and such. he feels like if you’re in a relationship you shouldn’t praise an ex person you were romantically affiliated with. he doesn’t just find it awkward, but also a little disrespectful and shameless to just do it in-front of him.

it also makes him feel insecure and overthink like, “there must be a reason she’s bringing this up.” he’ll also get irritated if he brings up that he finds it weird/rude and in response you basically downplay it.

DISORGANIZED: pavitr would hate if you had a messy room. he feels like peoples rooms and houses are a reflection of who they are, so if you’re messy? yeah, no. and i don’t mean the type of mess where you were busy and stuff has been moved around and not cleaned up yet, depression bed, but full on sloppy and borderline hoarding. he could not deal with that and i can imagine him beginning to frantically circle your room and offer you free assistance if it’s that bad.

“are you sure you’re gonna clean this later? and what does later mean to you because-“

to summarize, pavitr wants somebody who is gonna be on the same positive wavelength he is, tries to make the most out of every day, remains respectful and affectionate, and puts effort into how they carry themself.

— MIGUEL O’ HARA

BAD LISTENER: something that will turn this man off almost immediately is not being good at listening to him, comforting him, and everything that has to do with this man’s trauma. miguel wants somebody who is gonna be a shoulder to cry on even if he won’t actually cry often. he wants someone who is listen to him and just let him dump his thoughts without putting any of the weight on you. but if you’re bad a listening it’s definitely gonna get on his nerves.

example. miguel is venting to you about gabi and how he feels that he failed her as a father and protector but when he looks up to see your face, he notices you aren’t paying attention by how clouded your eyes look— almost as of you’re thinking of something else entirely.

if his girlfriend or someone he has romantic interest in did that, his heart would shatter and if he showed any sort of change in emotion on his face in the silence you could probably swear you hear the pieces hitting the ground. it’s very important to him to have someone to talk to because his group of people who support him has gotten shorter and shorter throughout the years.

JUDGMENTAL: miguel hates a know-it-all. he doesn’t want to open up to someone who he feels will be critical of what he likes, his hobbies, his lifestyle, his choices and mistakes, etc. he doesn’t want somebody who is going to make drama out of nothing and just play games with him by saying stuff just to get a rise out of him. will it work? yes. does he hate it and it gives him an ick that you’re trying to get him angry on purpose knowing how he is? absolutely.

CLINGY: he is a bit hesitant to physical touch even when being touch starved. miguel makes it very clear that he does not want to be overly attacked with affection or forced into being affection because he father eases his way into it and basically take things slow. however, if you try to pressure him into being physically affectionate or just cling to his side he will definitely get annoyed.

he wants you to respect when he wants space or time to himself, and you showing that support and allowing him that is basically a silent blessing to him.

POOR COMMUNICATION: communication is very important to miguel. and not communication in terms of talking to him regularly and he gets mad at you of you don’t talk to him, because while that can be the case sometimes if he notices you avoiding him, it’s more so about talking to him.

“you know, i feel like a babysitter talking to a noisy kid that still doesn’t know how to listen to when they’re being talk to.”

example. he notices you acting off and asks you about it but instead of saying a genuine answer you make up a lie or completely shrug it off, which prompts an argument because he confronts you for not talking to him

miguel would never force you to open up, but he also doesn’t want you to lie. if there is truly something wrong, he at least wants you to voice that instead of lying and saying everything is fine because it creates distrust and other underlying problems. a simple “i don’t want to talk about it” would keep him at ease and he would offer you anything to make you feel better. however, if you go out of your way to not communicate well with him especially during arguments than he will begin to get the ick

example. you and him get into an argument and after it you decide to ignore him which he views as childish and petty as it causes a rift between you two.

DIRECTNESS: similar to miles, miguel wants his girlfriend to be straightforward with how she feels. he doesn’t wish for her to sugarcoat things just to try and ease his mind because to him that feels like bending the truth and taking away a layer of what you really want to say. he doesn’t want you to be “childish” when addressing problems in the relationship and he will set you straight or he sees you acting this way while he’s trying to communicate with you.

but if he can’t persuade you the act different as well as handle things better and you can’t bother to change, that will be the end of the relationship to him. biggest ick of icks for him.

also random but he also as icks linked to the self image of his partner. he would be an angrier man if you had bad hygiene, kept apologizing 24/7, and doubted yourself most of the time similar to nice guys who are just self pitying. even if you aren’t self pitying… his reaction is still the same.

“ay mamita, have some dignity please.”

to summarize, miguel wants a partner who is going to support him no matter what he needs to do and to ground him. but he isn’t looking to keep someone around him who is constantly neglecting his emotional needs, critical of his personal experiences, making his life harder by disrespecting boundaries and not wanting to communicate with him, and ultimately doing too much than needed.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

[luvyurself]

I’m going blind, I gotta have it somehow

I listened to two asmrs of francis and now I’m dry humping the phone

c/w: she/her pronouns, doppelgänger francis, suggestive but no smut, we rocking with the copycat cause he’s rocking with us

this is based off a c.ai omfg I’m the biggest fucking gooner UGHHHHH

______

this job was more overwhelming then what she thought it would be. being a doorman seemed like easy work, checking people in and making sure they were getting to their right apartments, it definitely felt like it could be smooth sailing for a good deal of pay.

of course, it would be that way, if the city she lived in wasn’t currently facing the ever growing doppelgänger problem that would be putting its people at risk of being killed.

the d.d.d branch had ways of dealing with these copycats that included checkpoints around the city, tight knit security in public areas, and of course her job: a doorman in an apartment complex.

people always have that mentality of thinking they can easily spot a doppelgänger, and for a while she thought she could too.

she came across multiple ones that can’t get the appearance right, one of them having an extra eye on his forehead, one lady with her entire face stitched up, or some other obvious abnormality in their appearance.

those encounters made her think that this job wouldn’t be as difficult, until some of them started to really put their time into getting the appearance right.

she nearly let in one of it wasn’t for the mole that she realized wasn’t even on her face like it was in the picture. or how quickly she shut the window after hanging up the phone with the real one answering saying he was still there.

after those ones, she finally started to get the idea that this job was going to be an overwhelming nightmare.

today was one of those days with multiple close calls and three held in emotional breakdowns.

she sighed out of her nose as she let in the last tenant of the night, groaning softly as she placed her hands on her head and tiredly rested it on the desk.

she was just about ready to conk out and take a nice long sleep, moving to stretch her body to sooth it’s aching muscles from sitting down for a long period.

she felt the back of her head meet with something and froze up, letting out a short gasp before a hand covered her lips, a low shushing sound came next to her ear.

“mmm….I could say thank you for letting me in….” the voice spoke lowly, his other hand reaching to hold hers that was near the phone. he didn’t have a tight grip on it it, but the way his fingers barley rubbed her knuckles made her not even think to move.

a deep chuckle tickled her ear, “you’re one of the more…..easier doormen to convince….” he let his hand that was on her mouth drop, his thumb rubbing her bottom lip gently as he stood next to her, showing himself to her.

she felt her heart pounding against her chest, of course, of-fucking-course this doppelgänger chose to copy the milkman that lived in this apartment.

francis mosses was a man who she became very familiar with when she started here. he was always tired, spoke in a low and quiet tone, and was very very attractive.

she couldn’t help but fumble with her words like a school girl whenever she saw him. whenever he’d slide his id and entry request under and she’d shakily grab it, not daring to meet him in the eye while she compared the photos to make sure they were correct.

it was embarrassing multiple times when she’d slide his id back, only for their hands to briskly touch before she would pull away and apologize like a cliche rom-com movie. but that ghost of a smile that would grace his face would always make her want to relive it again and again.

and maybe, just maybe, she mistook the weird feeling in her gut the moment the copy cat of him walking in today was just the butterflies in her stomach from seeing him.

his hand going to run through her hair brought her back to reality, his fingers gently combing through and twirling it with his index finger.

“it’s funny how easy it was to convince you to open the door….you were practically drooling over me.” he spoke in a almost teasing tone, the hand holding hers went to squeeze it a bit more tighter.

she didn’t know how she was sitting there with her voice in her throat, but she finally felt it coming back as she let out a weak voice, “please…..please let me go…” she let her gaze look down to the hand holding hers, feeling her fingers twitch slightly.

in under different circumstances, if this were actually francis, she would definitely would be melting on the spot and be practically on her knees.

but this wasn’t francis, just a copycat looking for its next meal. she had to keep telling herself that to overcome the growing feeling of flustering and something else she will not entertain.

the doppelgänger gave her a small smile, one that looked exactly like how the real francis would, but this one had an eerie feeling to it. he cooed slightly, “aww….why would I do that?”

the fingers in her hair moved to her chin, tilting it up so she could meet his gaze, “what would you do, hmm? call the d.d.d?” he took a quick glance towards the phone, before back at her, “I could kill all these tenants in seconds before they could arrive….and you really don’t look like you can even overthrow me.”

the fake francis tilts his head, leaning closer to her, “in fact….I don’t think you would have the strength to even call them, I mean after all…” he gave a low laugh, “I practically have you melting in the palm of my hand.”

she felt her ears warm up, breathing getting shaky as she stuttered out her words, “I….I should….I….” she trailed off, the man in front of her humming, “you should, but….will you?”

god, god this affirmation wasn’t working. this doppelgänger was way too good at this. she felt like a mess for actually wanting it.

he brushed a hair away from her face, the hand trailing down to her shoulder as he leaned in closer to her ear, “you won’t tell on me….will you?~”

she swallowed sharply, her eyes squeezing shut as she embarrassingly shook her head, humming softly as she gripped her palm tightly.

the copycat smiled, his other hand resting on hers reaching to place on her thigh as he massaged it, “oh….you want me bad don’t you?~”

she let out a soft whimper, her hands reaching up for him to have a touch. a soft tut, his hand blocking hers from reaching out to him, “come on, baby….use your words.” he spoke in a sultry tone, making her melt even more into him as she mumbled out in a pathetic voice, “yes….yes I do.”

she didn’t care at this point that he wasn’t the real francis, she just craved anything that could satisfy her longing in her heart for him. and this doppelgänger was more then willing to satisfy himself and her.

francis let out a low laugh, letting go of her hands so she can finally reach out for him. he let his hand slip under her skirt, feeling himself shiver slightly at her hands going under his shirt, “oh….im going to enjoy eating you up~”

omg francis I’m coming ngh~

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 13 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: you know the saying "it's gotta get worse before it gets better??" Well, that's true lol But enjoy the ride!

***

“You keep actin’ like it’s not a big deal! Like we can just wake up and get over it.” 

“I never said that!” Charlotte called over him, attempting to drown out his blatantly false words. as she angrily folded her arms. She flopped back into the soft cushions of Dr. Matthews’ couch, angrily folding her arms. “But I’m sick of him acting like I’m the problem for focusing on OUR future? Shaun is the past. We’re supposed to be planning a wedding? You proposed to me! Why is it wrong for me to focus on that and not the past??” 

“Well, I don’t know if that’s what Michael mea-” 

Michael did not even allow their therapist to finish her thought before he jumped back in, his anger rising.   

“I didn’t travel back in time and stumble into a bathroom to find him hurting you, Charlotte! It’s what? Almost the end of April so this happened six weeks ago?? He is very much our present and potentially part of the future. How can I just pretend that ain’t the case? He will be a threat to you until he’s in prison. And I’m not interested in being caught off guard again when he shows up for round two. And you know I’m right!” 

“I don’t know that actually!” 

“Sure. Lie to your family, Dr. Matthews, and yourself all you want but I see you, Charlotte. You haven’t moved on either. You’re just trying to ignore it so you don’t have to deal with it. So you don’t have to talk to me about it. Better to pretend this is somehow a normal everyday experience rather than just admit that it’s fucked up. You can say you’re fine all you want but I ain’t gotta pretend I believe it when I don’t.” 

“Oh right cause you’re the resident expert on being stalked and almost murdered? Remind me when that happened to you too??” she snapped sarcastically. “Exactly! So why do you think your opinion of my progress somehow matters more than the only person in this room with actual experience surviving this and him. You’ve got no idea what it’s like. I’ve been here. I’ve survived this and worse. So maybe I am actually fine because I know exactly what this feels like. You can’t hold it against me that I’m not a broken thing that needs you to swoop in and fix her!” 

“I don’t need to know what that’s like because I know you! And I’m not trying to fix you. Cause I don’t think acknowledging your pain means you’re broken. I do know that the last time you swore to me you were fine, he showed up at your rehearsal and then he bruised your ribs. And I knew, I fuckin’ knew, something was up before I left and I went anyway because you swore you were fine. Call me controlling o-or overprotective or annoying or whatever but at least you’ll be alive to be mad at me. Cause I sure as hell am not gonna make the same mistake ever again. You want me to chill out? Then start bein’ honest with me when shit isn’t fine and maybe I’ll start believing you when you say it is.”

“You act as if I just lie all the time?? In our entire relationship, I’ve kept one secret from you, made one more mistake! If you can’t forgive me for it, why are we even here??” 

“Maybe I could if it was just one mistake. I love you with my entire soul, fuck you’re my everything. But for whatever reason, your go-to is to keep shit like this from me. He showed up at your rehearsal and you said nothing. Had nightmares that were so bad, you got sick and you told me everything was just fine. He hit you and threatened you and you still lied to me when I asked you what was going on. Same thing with your arm the night of the premiere. Do you wanna tell Dr. Matthews how you got that brace on your wrist and how you tried to hide it from me or should I?” 

“This again!” Charlotte threw her free hand in the air as the one wrapped in a black brace stayed in her lap. “It’s a sprain and it was an accident. I didn’t tell you because of this - I knew you’d overreact and we’d be back where we were in March! And I was right. One accident and you acted like I was gonna fall apart. I wanted to celebrate, have fun and you overreacted and just wanted me to be sad all night. So much so that you couldn’t even see what I needed!” 

“Overreact?? Wow. How am I supposed to react to finding out I hurt you??” 

“YOU didn’t hurt me! I got hurt, there’s a difference. And the only person who was bothered was you. You know how many times I’ve been hurt? Concussions, bruised and broken ribs, carpet burns, regular burns, broken bones, cuts, hell, I bruised a kidney once. I’m a fuckin’ walking Grey’s Anatomy episode. I don’t need to send you a press statement everytime I’m hurt.”  

“You know that’s not what I want! But you could at least tell me so I can help. Otherwise, what use am I to you?” 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Dr. Matthews interrupted the pair. “Enough. Both of you!” 

The couple had dissolved into a loud and biting vocal hurricane within five minutes of stepping into her Lower Manhattan office. Neither of them came ready for productive conversation but to unleash their frustrations onto a third party in hopes that she would convince the other that their side was the right one. 

“You just spent 10 minutes arguing and I doubt either of you even heard a single thing the other person said. Getting louder doesn’t ensure your point is heard, it just makes you loud. So let’s take a deep breath so we can actually have a conversation.” 

Charlotte took a few deep breaths before glancing at her fiance, guilt immediately surging as he jiggled his knee, a clear sign that he was upset. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hand rubbing her forehead. “We d-don’t speak to each other like that. I’m just…” She glanced away from him as her voice trailed off. She did not know what she was but she knew nothing was as ok as she wanted it to be. As she wanted them to be. “Frustrated.” 

“I know…” he acknowledged, letting out his own deep breath to release some of his anger. “I’m sorry too.” 

“Ok good. I wondered when we’d finally get here. It took one session for me to see this argument brewing but I honestly thought you two would never get here. So amenable to other, willing to make surface-level changes that don’t address the root cause of your problems but unwilling to be vulnerable and say the hard things that would actually help you move forward. But like a lot of things, sometimes we have to take a couple steps back to reevaluate and move forward. So tell me what happened since our last session to get us here?” 

Dr. Matthews’ calming voice was a sharp juxtaposition to the red hot anger they both entered her office ready to unleash. She was not wrong, this argument was simmering since Charlotte got home from the hospital and had boiled over without warning. Charlotte had thought they were making small inroads to being back to normal but Dr. Matthews now challenged everything Charlotte believed about their progress. She was so frustrated at Michael for setting them back but maybe she had just put too much hope that their problems were an easy fix and wouldn’t require the thing she dreaded most: vulnerability. But the last 48 hours felt like God saying that neither of them could sustain that much longer. 

Charlotte sighed and glanced at Michael, his own shame wafting off of him.

“It really wasn’t a big deal. The other night…” 

“WRONG! He can’t be dead!” 

“Whatchu mean wrong?? We watched that nigga get stabbed eight times.”

“Yea we also saw dragons and zombies… you’re telling me that in a world of dragons and zombies, a nigga can’t come back to life?? What about Beric???” 

Michael laughed. “Doesn’t mean everybody can do it just cause he did?? And how would he even come back? The entire Night Watch against him, Red Woman’s nowhere to be found. That nigga cooked. Had a good run though,” he remarked as he pulled their dinner out of the oven. 

It was Charlotte’s night off from the show and the couple’s chosen date night. Their therapist had recommended setting aside the time each week to reconnect and focus on them. And Charlotte felt as if it was working, they were slowly but surely becoming them again. Perfect? No. But even their playful fighting over mundane tv plots was a new development. Fuck… just being playful at all was a glorious return to who they once were. Their relationship simply existed day to day with such an overcast of tension, the overbearing weight of life and death, that there was little space or energy to feel anything light. But the excitement of the day had turned tonight’s mood celebratory and fun, exactly what Charlotte needed to feel like herself again. 

“Wow. You have nooo faith. That man’s comin’ back, I know it. Also if you were really killing off a character, is that how you’d write it?? The whole ‘is your favorite character dead?’ season finale cliffhanger almost always ends with the character being alive.” 

“We talking about Thrones, Els! The show that killed off the main character in season 1 and most shows ain’t doing that shit. So I still haven’t heard one real reason he can’t be dead dead aside from the fact that you gotta crush on him.”

Michael loved egging her on when she put on her nerd hat. Mainly because he loved seeing her come alive in this way, as if this part of her had always been suppressed in relationships and her light just glowed when she was able to be her. 

 Charlotte turned and glanced over her shoulder as she made guacamole to accompany their homemade enchiladas. She placed her utensils down before walking over to wear he perched against the counter, too invested in their conversation to multitask. 

“I mean even you have to admit that Jon’s brooding demeanor is sexy??” 

“I’ll never admit that!” 

Charlotte almost doubled over in laughter at the incredulous look on Michael’s face. 

“Reasonable crush or not,” she struggled to say as she reigned in her laughter. “I know I’m right. Mark my words, by the end of episode 1, Jon Snow’ll be alive and kicking. His character arc isn’t over yet.” 

“Wanna place a wager about that, honey bee?” 

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Sure… cause I know I’ll win,” she teased. 

“Loser has to give the winner massages, anytime requested, for a month.” 

“Two!” Charlotte interjected. She merely smirked. “What can I say? I’m feeling lucky today for some reason.”

“Oh for some reason? Could it be cause a certain actress, as of today, is now Tony-nominated Charlotte Bennett - soon to be Tony Award winning Charlotte Bennett-Jordan,” he amended with his perfect boyish grin that made her roll her eyes and giggle. 

“Maybe” she challenged with a modest look on her face. “Just… feeling inspired.”

 And the day had been inspired indeed as Charlotte woke up to the highly anticipated nominations announcement. Her first real shot at a lifelong dream, finally realized. When they said her name among the nominees for Lead Actress in a Musical, she felt the world stop on its axis. Everything she thought she had lost was hers again. 

Michael had been ecstatic for her, though not nearly as surprised by the news as she had been. If there was one person he would always bet on, it was his girl. And so they spent the entire day celebrating and Charlotte loved every moment of it. She had missed the version of Michael today brought out. Playful and silly, joking and laughing with her over mundane things, arguing with gusto about controversial storytelling opinions, going on tangents about his upcoming roles and his research. She missed his uninhibitedness, how he was unafraid to pull her into his arms, and be unrestrained. She just missed him. 

“Is that right?” he remarked as he reached for her, Charlotte playfully sliding out of his grasp so he could not catch her. 

Feeling emboldened by their return to some semblance of normalcy, she continued the game, giggling as she continued shifting out of his grasp as he reached for her. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them as he caught onto her game and soon they were in a full chase around the kitchen. 

Laughter filled the living room as they played their game of cat and mouse. By the time they were circling each other around the coffee table in the living room like opponents in the ring, Charlotte knew she was caught. She would have to concede and accept defeat, but she hoped that her capture would lead to a reignition of far more enjoyable games. 

She took off running by their couch, knowing Michael would grab her immediately and likely jokingly toss her onto it. However, as she rounded the corner, her foot caught onto the leg of their table, sending the clumsy actress hurling down to their carpet. She threw her arm out to break her fall, a searing pain shooting through her wrist as she landed on her stomach. 

She groaned as she lost her breath on the impact, immediately curling into a tight ball as the fall reignited a dull pain in her freshly healed ribs. She cradled her wrist against her chest as she tried to fill her lungs with air again.

“Fucking… idiot,” she forced out as breathing started to feel less like an Olympic task. 

“Shit! Baby, baby… Els. Talk to me, you ok??” 

She simply nodded as she used her good arm to lift herself up and turn around. 

“Yea, yea, I’m good. Just… annoyingly… clumsy,” she pushed out a chuckle as Michael helped her shift off the floor and onto the couch cushions. “As God… likes to remind me.”  

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, baby.” Charlotte was almost startled when she finally looked up at him, hovering above her. His eyes frantically searched her body for injury, his face blanched as if he had been startled by a ghost. His phone trembled in his hands as he rushed to unlock it. “Let me call your doctor… or… shit, your concussion just healed… Did you hit your head on anything?? We should get it checked anyway. Maybe I should just call an ambulance?? Gonna call an ambulance. Anywhere else hurt?? Your ribs? It didn’t get the same spot he… Probably wasn’t hard enough to bruise them but we should get it checked too… how’s you-” 

“Hey, hey, whoa. Slow down, baby,” she cradled the left side of his face, forcing him to slow down and go quiet for a moment. She could almost hear his heart hammering against his chest. “Take a deep breath, Bakari. I’m ok. Just a danger to myself and your expensive furniture,” she joked, hoping to calm him with humor, which didn’t work in the slightest. “Thank god I didn’t fall into the table. I know how much all this set you back. No need for doctors or ambulances. I promise. I’m good.” 

She bit down on her inner cheek to avoid the wince as one subtle movement let her know her wrist was, at best, sprained. She kept it limp by her side as Michael helped her to her feet. But the look on Michael’s face made her question whether sharing that now would only make things worse. So she said nothing at all. 

“I shouldn’t have chased after you like that. I should’ve moved faster when I saw you fall.” 

“We were having fun. We’re allowed, you know?” 

“Hurting you ain’t fun, Els. You’re hurt. Where?” 

“I hurt myself, you didn’t do anything. And I just hit the side of the table as I went down, I think. It hurts but will probably feel fine tomorrow. I’m ok, I swear.” 

“You sure?” She could see the disbelief in his eyes but she kept her face upbeat, ignoring the throbbing ache branching out from her wrist. 

“Yes,” she chuckled. “Now, can we go back to enchiladas and margs and debating the narrative choices of Game of Thrones? And celebrating the biggest day of my career? We still gotta pop that very expensive bottle of champagne Chris sent. Please? I’m really ok.” 

Her words convinced him to return to the kitchen where dinner waited. But they could not restore the carefree, celebratory aura they had 5 minutes ago. Instead, only that awful tension remained, leading to an uncomfortable silence that Charlotte could not break. 

Michael’s thoughts were no longer on their date night, but clearly preoccupied. Charlotte could almost see the wheels of guilt spiraling out in his brain. Her mildly funny dad jokes fell on deaf ears, her questions and prompts for conversation were met with silence or one word answers. Occasionally, she felt his eyes on her, studying her for signs of pain or discomfort. But thankfully, he found none and did not notice her first couple awkward bites using her nondominant left hand. 

She had every intention of telling him about her wrist once he calmed down but that moment never came. She tried to fight her way through the rest of the night, the couple even trying to catch up on a tv show together. But their usual vibrant commentary was silent as Charlotte stole worried glances at Michael and he did the same to her. 

She did not even understand how they got here. How he was this upset when the entire incident was her own fault. After all, what clumsy person thinks it’s smart to start a high-speed chase in their living room? She felt as if this was the best outcome she could have hoped for. 

“Michael… babe. You can’t just go silent on me,” she muttered grumpily, her frustration getting the better of her. “What’s wrong?” 

She had been doing as her therapist recommended, practicing understanding and grace as Michael navigated his emotions after everything. But as more time passed, she was simply too ready to move forward and growing frustrated with his lack of interest in doing so. He was stuck, firmly planted, and no amount of tugging on her part felt like it would get him out of it. 

The lack of intimacy in their relationship seeped into all aspects of their lives, including how they slept together. While they knew different rooms were simply too much distance for them, the furthest apart they could go were their separate corners of the bed. Charlotte tossed and turned most nights without her human weighted blanket draped over her. She understood the shift when her ribs were healing but he still held himself back from her, even after the all clear from her doctor. There were no playful touches or cuddling briefly before falling asleep, no more rolling away to cool off and Michael finding his way right back to her. They rolled to their corners after a chaste and subdued goodnight kiss before they both fell into restless sleep. 

But tonight, she supposed the distance worked in her favor, giving her space to gently elevate her wrist. She knew she would regret not icing it in the morning but somehow that seemed more inviting than opening that can of worms with Michael right before bed. 

“Just worried you aggravated your injuries or somethin’. You sure nothin’ else hurts? You can’t always tell right away?” 

She knew what she should have said. The truth. That she needed an ice pack and a doctor. But she didn’t. In that split second, she knew he would never let this go if he knew she was actually hurt. And she could not deal with that. It was just a sprain anyway, she reasoned. She had dealt with far worse. 

“I’m sure. Really. I didn’t fall off a ladder, I tripped. It’s fine. But if you’re gonna get stressed every time I fall, I’d rethink getting on this ride for life. You’ll be in for a hella stressful one.” Her tone was filled with amusement that finally did, minimally, tug at the corners of his lips. She leaned over and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Accidents happen and I’m not made of glass. Now take a deep breath and get some rest. Love you.” 

She turned over and closed her eyes, hoping that her words would be enough. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they would not be. 

But sleep was not something Michael would find tonight as he stared at the ceiling, wallowing in this stabbing guilt in his chest. He did not particularly want to be awake with his thoughts but he knew sleep was not a reprieve either. This monster, this fear chasing him and making him feel and behave in ways he knew were utterly irrational, haunted him every minute of every day. 

And all he knew was that he had to stay alert, stay ahead of it and protect his girl. Because the one time he wasn’t watching close enough, wasn’t listening or paying attention close enough, she got hurt. He would not let that happen ever again. 

***

Spring had officially settled into the New York City air but today, Charlotte was grateful for the lingering morning brisk that required long sleeves, praying it would hide the swelling on her wrist until she left for work. She grimaced and struggled to get her jacket on without moving her wrist much.  Some idiotic part of her had hoped it would magically feel better this morning. But that was dumb. So she was leaving a bit early to carve out time for an urgent care visit. But she knew Michael would never let it go if he found out. 

They had started to turn a new leaf and find their rhythm again. And Charlotte wanted to preserve that, not giving her fiance any more reasons to coddle her to death. Besides, Charlotte much preferred the old version of him to this one overprotective one. 

She turned it over in her head most of the night and decided that it didn’t serve them to make a fuss over something so small when it was clear Michael harbored some unfounded guilt. She’d get it fixed and pass it off as a rehearsal injury. No harm, no foul. 

Michael emerged from their bedroom with his work bag and shoes in tow as she finished putting on her coat.

“You ready?” He flopped down on the coach to put on his sneakers, Charlotte pausing with an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Where are you headed?” 

“With you.”

All good things must come to an end, she groaned to herself. She thought they had finally moved past him accompanying her to work every day like a guard dog. Some good things were simply too brief. 

“Michael… I thought we agreed you didn’t need to come with me anymore?” Her tone couldn’t hide her annoyance, and she didn't particularly care to. “I went to the theater by myself like a big girl all last week and was totally fine.”

“I’m not bothering anyone sittin’ in a theater watchin’ you practice, Charlotte.” 

“Yea no one except me,” she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. A wounded look crossed his eye for a moment that made her feel guilty. “Sorry, sorry. That was rude. I just thought… we were settling back into normal life again. I don’t need a babysitter when you pay for me to have a bodyguard anytime I leave this apartment. I’ll be fine.”   

“There’s nothing wrong with extra protection. You need it. At least till he’s in prison.” 

“I don’t actually. I can handle it.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

Charlotte paused, slowly turning in surprise as silent frustration morphed into roaring anger. “Excuse me? Who are you to decide that?” She paused. “Wait, wait, wait. Is this still about last night??”

“Nah.” 

“You sure? Cause you were fine before last night and now you’re back to being unnecessarily overprotective.”

“I don’t think it’s unnecessary.” 

“Why?? Cause I tripped over my own feet? I’m gonna get hurt, injure myself and you can’t freak out like this everytime. I’m a magnet for accidents who bruises like a fruit. I’m fine. You can’t keep acting like we’re still at DEFCON1. We’re not. Things are getting back to normal, can’t we just enjoy that? Please? For me?” 

He studied her for a moment before nodding softly, throwing his bag down on the couch. She closed the space between them and kissed him softly on his cheek. 

“Thank you. I am heading to the theater. I’ll call you when I get there. Love you.” Not thinking, she went to grab for her discarded bag with her injured arm before the pain forced her to awkwardly change course and use her other hand. She started to move toward the elevator when she heard his voice stop her. 

“Wait! There something wrong with your arm?” Michael’s voice reached her as she was pressing the elevator button to the lobby.  

“No, why?” She was so close. Literally steps away. How had she fucked this up? 

“Because I saw you strugglin’ to put your jacket on and you just avoided using that arm like you couldn’t. And now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you move it all morning.”

“Jesus… you get trained by the CIA at some point or something?” 

“Charlotte. I’m serious. What’s wrong with your arm?” 

“Nothing, Michael.” 

“You’re really gonna lie to my face right now? Ok… Move it.”

“Michael…” 

“Charlotte.”

She could always tell when Michael was serious, when he did not want to be trifled with. It was just rare that he had to direct that tone at her. But hearing it now, she felt resigned. She would have to tell him the truth and she could already tell.. 

This was going to fucking suck. 

“Ok fine. I tried to break my fall last night and my wrist hurts a bit. It’s nothing.”

“Fuck, Charlotte!” He closed the space between them quickly, only pausing when he noticed the almost unnoticeable jerk of her body away from him. He could tell she started to flinch but caught herself, not that that made it hurt any less. He held his hands out as he took the last couple of steps to her side. He gently reached for her arm, pushing her sleeves out of the way to find her wrist swollen and red. “It’s sprained or broken. Why didn’t you tell me last night?? I asked you hella times if you were hurt. I knew we should’ve gone to the hospital o-or called a doctor.” 

“That’s why I didn’t tell you!” She cried out in frustration as she watched the love of her life turn into this person she did not even recognize. “Because I knew you’d lose it. I knew you’d force me to spend the night in the ER regardless of what I wanted. I’m tired of you coddling me like I can’t make decisions, Michael!” 

“So cause you’re mad at me… you lied to me? Again??? After you promised you wouldn’t do that shit again.” 

Charlotte scoffed. “It’s hardly the same thing! This was literally nothing! A few weeks in a brace and I’m fine. So yes, I omitted a minor injury so you wouldn’t feel the need to take control! So you wouldn’t focus 100% of your attention on every stage of healing of my wrist or whether a fall triggered PTSD somehow. I have this under control and handled. I don’t need help. I. am. Fine. I don’t know why you aren’t listening to me when I say that.” 

“Maybe because had I listened to you the last time you said that, I would’ve come back from LA to plan your funeral!”

Charlotte’s comeback died in her throat as his words caught her off guard. She didn’t think about… that. It was a simple statement of fact. But she didn’t really dwell on it, how close she came to losing everything, how she only survived because someone else was there to save her. That she would have died as the woman he created - weak and broken - and not the person she believed she fashioned herself into. 

No, those were truths Charlotte had no interest in dealing with. So she forced her reaction to remain neutral, ignoring the ache in her chest that had nothing to do with physical pain. 

“So you’re just gonna hold that against me for the rest of our relationship? Just never believe me o-or take my word for anything ever again?”

“No but-” 

“Cause that’s what it’s starting to feel like.”

“It wouldn’t if you were just honest! I’m trying to help you.” 

Charlotte took a deep breath before turning to hit the button on the elevator door. 

“Ok… Honesty… Well, honestly, I’m getting a little tired of being called a liar when all I’m trying to do is help us. Honestly, I’m not sure how you expect me to be vulnerable when you aren’t listening to me. Honestly, I’m tired of convincing the man I love that I’m not gonna fall apart every second because he can’t stop treating me like I’m gonna fall apart every fucking second. Honestly, I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only person trying to move past this. And honestly, today, I don’t want your help. Because reminding me with every look and action that I’m a victim when all I want is to continue celebrating the biggest accomplishment of my career isn’t helping me. It’s just more of what everyone else in my life does. And honestly, I’m. Tired. Of. It.” 

She punched the elevator button hard, a soft chime letting her know it arrived almost instantaneously. Thank God. 

“So, want any more honesty for today or are we good?”  

“That’s not wha-” 

“I have an interview in 20 minutes and I can’t be late.” She cut him off, pressing the elevator button in rapid succession as if that would conjure it faster. “See you tonight.” 

And with that, Charlotte stormed out, leaving Michael alone with his frustrations and guilt. Charlotte was rarely angry at him but he could tell she was reaching a new height of frustration. But he did not know how to stop. Even standing there, equally as pissed off at her as she was with him, all he wanted to do was rush after her to go with her to work. He could be pissed and still protect her, right? 

He despised the fact that she claimed he was not hearing her. He was listening, far more intensely than she realized. Which is how he knew that all was not well for her, how he knew she needed the extra support even if she did not want to admit it. 

And then to find out that she kept something significant from him again. Had he not proven to her that he was going to be present? And protect her from every threat? Did she not consider him capable of fixing her problems, of helping her? That made him only want to prove himself more, prove he could protect her from anything that came her way. 

But he didn’t know how to get her to see that he was doing what he had to protect her, to not fail her again.  

“Wow. Ok… a lot to unpack there,” Dr. Matthews muttered. “Charlotte, did you mean what you said? About him not helping you?” 

“Well… kind of? At the moment, yes. He’s been helpful in a lot of ways, don’t get me wrong. And I love him for it. It’s just… I lied because… I mean shit, I just wanted one day. One day to not be a survivor or victim or be reminded that Shaun tried to ruin yet another thing in my present. In fact, I wanted to celebrate that even though he tried to ruin this for me, I still came out on top. But it’s like - and I don’t even think he’s doing it on purpose, which it’s been so hard to tell him - Michael can’t not remind me of it. It’s in every look, every touch, every decision. It’s like all he sees is the broken woman on that bathroom floor. And I don’t want to be made to feel like her when she’s dead and buried.”

“Michael, do you hear what Charlotte’s saying?” 

“Yea, and I understand it but… what else am I supposed to do?? What if he comes back? What if he attacks her again? I need to be there to protect her.” 

“He’s not gonna come back!”

“You don’t know that! Did you think he was gonna basically change his job so he could get closer to you? I’m not gonna underestimate that nigga… ever again.” 

“Oh and I did? I underestimated the man I slept next to for years? I’m the only one here who actually knows what he is capable of!” 

“Clearly you did if you thought you could take him on yourself.” 

“Right because I’m just a weakling who needs big strong men to swoop in and save her at every turn because I got hurt once?” 

“It wasn’t on-”  

“Okay okay, once again, deep breaths. Whew… the soul mates ones are always the most intense. Can’t even get a word in in my own office,” Tanya remarked. “Ok, you want to know what I hear? Two people who, despite their immense love and adoration for each other, aren’t actually ready to be vulnerable with each other. And without that, you’ll never understand the other person’s perspective because you’ll never have the full story and you’ll keep bumping heads.” 

“We know how to be vulnerable?” Charlotte argued back. “I mean even telling Michael what happened to me in the first place, sharing that was me being vulnerable.” 

“It was and that’s brave and admirable. I don’t doubt that you two have had moments where you offer vulnerability. But this situation you find yourselves in is unique and trauma, our fears, are often the hardest to share with others. I think you both are acting from a fear-based place and that’s understandable but you’ll never be able to move forward. Instead, you’ll just keep holding tight to behaviors you both know don’t serve you or your relationship.” 

“I’m not scared,” Charlotte remarked. “Maybe this would be easier if I was… at least then his behavior would be understandable.” 

“We all have fears, Charlotte. And I do think there’s a reason you opt for dismissing and lying about your own pain as if it’s insignificant. And it could just be an ingrained behavior but I think you need to ask yourself if there’s another reason you don’t trust the foundation of this relationship enough to be honest with Michael when things aren’t going well. And Michael, getting worked up to the point of distress over simple injuries, not being able to let your partner out of your sight… that’s not healthy or sustainable for either of you. And that’s more than general anxiety. And in our first session, you admitted that to us both. So ask yourself why you’ve reverted to something you know doesn’t work? Whatever the reasons are, I can help you both navigate all of it. But you’ve gotta be honest with yourselves and me about the reasons behind it. Until you’re ready to share with each other how that night changed you and your relationship, you’re just gonna keep having this argument until you break. And I don’t think either of you really want that?” 

The both of them shook their heads, her words were harsh but they both knew there was a ring of truth to them. 

“Okay good. So homework for this week is to do just that. Sit with yourselves, really sit with everything the other person said today and try to examine it. Not from a defensive posture like you’ve been doing but like you know the other person loves you and has your best interests at heart. And figure out the why behind your behavior. Keep asking why until you drill down to whatever is truly bothering you. Then… I don’t care when or how, whether you wait till our next session or do it while you’re alone, you’re gonna have to tell the other person your why. And to be honest… it’s gonna suck. But that’s the only way you’re gonna make it to the other side of this. Sound good?”

Charlotte glanced over to Michael who gave her a slight nod. He reached across the cushions and gave her hand a squeeze. 

“Sounds good.”  

***

Michael glanced over at Charlotte, her deep brown eyes set with sadness and far away from him as she changed out of her costume. He would have been more worried if that look had not been a staple in her eyes since their therapy session a few days prior. Whether it was the lingering silence and coldness between them or the reflection Dr. Matthews tasked them with, he did not know. But he knew one thing: he hated it. 

And as much as he knew it would suck, he was ready to do his part to end that. Whether or not he felt as if he was doing the right thing, his time reflecting made him realize that if Charlotte did not agree, he was doing the complete wrong thing. He didn’t have to sit with himself long to understand his why, understand what fears had him in a tight vise grip. As much as he dreaded saying it out loud, part of him dreaded an endless stream of sleepless, lonely nights even more. 

He missed his honeybee. His Els. He missed who they were before Shaun waltzed back into their lives. And he knew some of it was on him. He could not force Charlotte to trust him again, but he could be a better listener so he could show up however she needed when she asked… not when he decided she needed him.  

“Wanna grab dinner nearby tonight? Instead of heading home?” 

“Not really up for it. Been a long day.” 

He bowed his head, nodding slightly. “Neither am I,” he admitted. “But I think we gotta try.” 

He knew he was asking a lot of her after the days they had. They had whiplash going from the highest of highs to a low so low, it felt as if they couldn’t climb their way out. But he wouldn’t lose her and he wouldn’t allow him to break them. So they would try. 

And soon they found themselves in a near-deserted 24 hour diner next to the theater, Charlotte stopping in her tracks when he went to open the front door.

“You wanna eat here?” 

“Yea I know it doesn’t look like much andd I definitely saw a mediocre health rating when I was here earlier but well, I had a whole reason. We can go somewhere else though.” 

Charlotte shook her head. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s just… God is funny, I guess.” 

“What do you mean?” Michael asked as they situated themselves in a booth at the very back of the restaurant. Michael sat with his back to the door, not his preferred arrangement but he wanted to minimize the chance of a random stranger recognizing them. 

“I’ve been here before… when I left Shaun.” She pointed to a worn out booth on the other side. “Sat right in that booth over there with Jazz and it was the first time I admitted to anyone what was going on. We sat here for hours, drinking terrible cheap coffee and she saved my life. Just telling her, saying it out loud, gave me the confidence I needed to do what I had to. A week later, Shaun was at a bachelor’s party in Vegas and I was gone. Shocked it's still standing. How’d it catch your eye?” 

“Came in here yesterday during the show and… reflected. Over about 6 plates of greasy fries and cheap terrible coffee.”

“Oof, reflection. I guess that explains the six plates of fries huh?” she joked with a light teasing smile that made him chuckle. “Seems like that’s our needed reflection fuel” she remarked as the lone waitress came to take their order. Once she returned to the diner counter, Charlotte continued. “And what did you learn?” 

“My why.” 

“And are you ready to tell me?”

“Yes but then… if you’re ready, I need yours. Because I think you know yours already too?” 

“How’d you know?” He knew her far too well.  

“Cause you would’ve tossed and turned even more than usual the last few nights if you didn’t. That genius brain of yours would’ve never let you sleep.” He teased back at her, Charlotte laughing lightly. 

“I don’t know if I like how well you know me.” 

“I do… know you. And I see you, Els. So I know I’ve been overbearing and probably annoying, Charlotte. And I’m sorry for how that made you feel, like you weren’t being heard and I never want you to feel that way with me again. But you aren’t being honest with me or yourself and I can’t move on till you are.” 

“You’re right,” she admitted. “You’re… absolutely right. I haven’t been and I know why. I just… it’s not even admitting it to you. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, really. So let’s agree… no judgments, no anger, no arguing… Just our ridiculously painful reflections and ugly truths laid out in a rundown crappy diner. My future is with you and there’s no future here if we can’t talk about the hard shit. So… let’s talk” 

“Ok I’m in.” 

“Pickers of the terrible diner first,” she smiled half heartedly, turning the table over to him. Her hands wrapped around the warm mug the waitress dropped off moments earlier. 

Michael sighed, his eyes trained on the cast on her arm for a few moments. Charlotte’s eyes widened as she saw his eyes brim with tears. He glanced away from her, sniffling a bit to stop them from spilling over. She reached across the table and grasped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Bakari… baby. It’s just me. Just the two of us. You’ve been so strong for me our entire relationship and I love you so much for it. But you also have to trust me to be vulnerable, trust that I can be strong for you too. Talk to me. No matter what you say, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Michael nodded, internally working up the courage before he just decided to jump. Head first into it. That was always their way anyway, just leaping into what felt right and safe. And they had yet to crash and burn. They wouldn’t this time either. 

“A couple days after everything, I had this… dream. We were back in LA, married, livin’ together at the house. We h-had kids. Two boys, I think. I mean you would’ve thought time just sped up or something, it was so real. Everything I want for us, you know?” 

“It sounds perfect. I’m guessing it didn’t end that way though?” 

The back of his hand brushed away an escaped tear. 

“Nah, it didn’t. I came home and you were there. And so was Shaun,” he paused, his hand squeezing hers a bit before he continued. “He had a gun and he just voiced every guilty feeling living in my head. How I prioritized a fuckin’ movie role over you, how I went to LA even though I knew something wasn’t right. How you almost died and I could’ve been too late. How you probably think I’m like him when you flinch away or get scared of me. And the worst part was you agreed with all of it. You screamed at me for failing you.” 

“Michael, you gotta know I-” 

“J-just let me get this out, Els.” He sniffled and took a deep breath before continuing, “I woke up as he pulled the trigger and I freaked out for a minute. I’d just never had a dream feel so real. I reached and still there, and you flinched away from me. And it… fuck, it killed me, Els. It felt like God affirming everything I thought, all the ways I’d failed you. You didn’t trust me anymore, didn’t see me as safe. And every time I hear you cry in the shower because you think I can’t hear you o-or diminish your pain as if I shouldn’t care or act as if you aren’t worth being taken care of and protected, it reminds me that I can’t fail you again. I can’t afford to fail you again. I know I’ve been overprotective but I just… I can’t stop looking over our shoulders for him. Terrified I’m going to miss the signs again and this time, I’ll lose you.” 

Charlotte’s heart broke a bit at his words. Why had she not considered this? She thought he put all of his guilt and blame to rest but to know he had been harboring it for so long, everything made so much more sense. And she felt like the world’s biggest idiot. 

“Hey. Look at me,” she demanded, not speaking until his expressive eyes were trained on hers. “There hasn’t been a single day since I met you that you’ve failed me. I d-don’t need you to try and prove you’re my safe place or that you can protect me. You just are that by existing, by loving me and showing up for me. And yea… it might take some more time for my body to catch up, but that isn’t on you. That’s on me for not dealing with it. And PTSD is just a fucking bitch,” she chuckled, causing the deep creases of his frown slack a bit. “But I don’t blame you, not then or now. I lied to you, Michael.” 

“But I should’ve-” 

“Should’ve what? Been a mind reader? Sacrificed a job on a hunch? That’s not a fair expectation for yourself, baby. Nor would I have ever wanted or expected you to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime for me. I don’t need a savior, I just need you to be there as best you can. And even when I didn’t realize how much I needed you, you did and came back for me. How could I ever think a man who sees me as clearly as that is a failure?”  

“You asked me to move here to protect you. And I didn’t. And now he’s back out there and I need to know you’re safe until he isn’t a threat to you anymore. You were gone for five minutes, Els. That was all it took. And now, it feels like if you’re out of my sight for long, I just spend the time on the verge of a damn panic attack.” 

“I asked you to come with me to make me feel safe, to love me, and support me. Not to be a bodyguard. And that’s what you’ve done and more. You know what I love about how you love me?” 

“What?” 

“You’ve always seen me. Every little detail, every word, every oddity and intricacy. You see everything and your love has always reflected that, has always been exactly what I needed. But you can’t love me like that if you can’t see me. And you can’t see me fully if you’re always looking over my shoulder for him.” 

“And if he comes back around? What then?” 

“Then we deal with him. I know he could come back and there’s not much I can do about it. The only thing I can do is not waste my time, our time, waiting for him to knock on our door. He can’t be our anchor, holding us in one spot when we need to move forward. What kind of life would that be for us? I never felt like I could win against him but this made me realize that I win every day by thriving. He tried to hurt me on the opening night of my show and in June, I could potentially win a Tony for that show while he waits to go to prison. That feels like victory in some way to me. And I can live with that. I can live every day knowing that every time he’s shown up, I’ve just come out on the other side stronger and better for it. I could waste my life waiting around for him or I can live it. And I just need to live my life. And we just have to be us. And more than anything, I just want us back.” 

“I want us back too. But I can’t do that if you aren’t even being honest about how you’re feeling and what you need.” 

She sighed. “So I guess it’s my turn, huh?” 

She stared at him for a few moments before saying, “When I left New York, he had taken everything. My identity, self-esteem, personhood. He took it all and left me with the scraps. And for a while, even with the entire country between us… I still lived in terror of him. Afraid of my shadow, afraid to speak without permission… to look people in the eye. I could put on the character of Charlotte to perform for a couple hours a night or for a day on set but what he created was just a shell of a person. And I hated myself for it.” 

Charlotte glanced out of the window at the cars rushed past them, the city that never sleeps indeed. 

“And eventually I put myself back together and I said he’d never break me again… never take that power again.” 

She glanced over to him. “And then he showed up here a-and I realized that terror wasn’t gone… I just let it go so quiet that I forgot it was there. And the moment I saw him, it was like I was that broken girl all over again. When he hit me, while I laid on the ground apologizing to him, you know what he said? ‘There she is… the real Charlotte.’ Like he knew I had dressed up the shell all pretty and different but on the inside? I was… am still hollow… still his broken scared plaything who couldn’t fight him.” 

Michael’s heart broke at how despondent her voice sounded. But as hard as it was for her to admit that, he could not pretend he was not glad she did. This was easily the most honest Charlotte had been with him in their entire relationship, the most revealing about her own insecurities and pain. And regardless of what it took to get there, he knew what a monumental step forward this was. 

He doubted therapy would do much for them, or him individually, at the beginning but Dr. Matthews seemed to hit a home run yet again. 

“But you did fight back, Els. You fought him.” 

“I fought him because of you. Because I saw you in the crowd. Because you came back for me. And I should’ve told you that. You’ve spent almost two months believing you failed me when you saved my life twice that night. I fought and without you, I would’ve lost. I dunno, I guess I just didn’t want to admit that when it comes to him, I’ll always be broken? I’ll always be hollow. And that felt like admitting that all that work and healing to create the woman you fell in love with, the woman I was finally proud of, was a lie. And why would you want to be with a shell? And everytime you treated me like this fragile broken flower, it just felt like you were agreeing that I hadn’t changed too? And that just made me want to prove that I had.”

“Honey bee… You really believe that? That you’re a shell?” 

She shrugged. “What else am I supposed to think? I worked so hard and when I had the chance to show him that I was different, I froze until I knew there was someone bigger and stronger to help me.”

“You wanna know what I believe?” 

“Always.” 

“I think you gotta start giving yourself more grace, baby girl. To survive what you have and be where you are today? You didn’t need me or Jazz or Lauren or Jackson or anyone else to do that, that’s just you. And I’m not even talking about your insane roster of accomplishments. You’re light, baby. I mean literal light, you lighten up every room you walk into, people gravitate toward you in a way I’ve never seen. No one would blame you for being jaded or hardened but you aren’t. You laugh loudly and love hard. You aren’t hollow, Els. You’re overflowing with life and love and light. That’s strength. And acknowledging how he hurt you, how it still hurts you, doesn’t diminish that.” 

“I don’t want to acknowledge that version of me, Michael. Especially not with you. This isn’t a part of me I ever wanted you to see. Didn’t think… you could love me the same if you saw how broken I am. I guess that’s why I’ve also been pretending like I’m fine. Dealing with all this and being open about it… I don’t wanna turn you off.” 

“I wanna see it though, Els. I need to understand you, to support you. I’d marry you tomorrow if we could. You thought it’d be this easy to get rid of me?” 

“Falling into a million pieces after a stalking ex felt like it would be enough? You must really be in love with me then?” Though she meant it as a statement, he could hear the question in her words, her intonation spelling out her doubts. 

“No number of stalking exes could make me fall outta love with you. And there’s no reaction you could have, no number of nightmares or whatever that would do it either. I ain’t going anywhere. I love you and I should be supporting you the way you need it, not however I think is right. I knew that and I still haven’t been doing it and I’m sorry for that.” 

As they talked, Charlotte felt lighter than she had since Shaun waltzed back into her life. Unburdening all of her fears and actually talking to Michael made her feel like they could actually take a step forward, even if it was a series of baby steps. 

“Thank you and I can’t promise that tomorrow I’ll just be an open book. But I promise to try harder to be. I used to have to hide everything from everyone. No one knew the real story cause if I was honest, everything would fall apart and I thought I’d lose everyone. And I guess I convinced myself that going at it alone is the only way to avoid that? And this made me realize that… that’s all I know how to do. But I know I can’t go at it alone all the time and I shouldn’t. Our love was built to withstand a lot more than I give it credit for. So I will try harder and be more honest about how I’m feeling with you. Keeping things from you isn’t right, regardless of the reason. And you deserve better than that. I’m sorry too.” 

“Apology accepted. I know it won’t be easy for either of us, I ain’t expecting that. Let’s just promise that everyday, we’ll try?” 

“That I can do.” Charlotte studied him for a moment before getting up and scooching into the booth next to him. 

She threw caution to the wind and pressed her lips to his. The first second was tentative, as if she was mentally prepared for his sudden rejection. But instead he merely encouraged her, a gentle hand cradling her neck in an effort to bring her closer. And she leaned into it, savoring the renewed intimacy between them. All was not perfect and there was still work to do but she realized that with Michael, she didn’t need perfection. She just needed him. 

She only broke their intimate moment when she remembered they were most certainly in a public place. It hadn’t felt like it but she often felt like, when she was focused on Michael, everyone and everything around them melted away. But she also didn’t want a photo on the shade room tomorrow of them making out in a random diner. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For being here and loving me.” 

“Always, Els.”   

***

Michael let out a deep content sigh as he found himself back in his favorite sleeping spot, his face buried in the nook of her neck. 

“Fuck I missed this.” 

“Me too… you’re a really good weighted blanket.” 

“Damn, that’s all I’m good for??” 

Charlotte made a face as if she was contemplating his other qualities. “Yea… that and other fun bedtime activities,” she offered with a joking smile. 

“Say the word and I can show you just how good I am at those activities too.” 

“Not tonight. But only cause I know you’re gonna wanna make up for lost time and I want us to actually stay awake for it.” 

“I’d prefer you be awake too,” he muttered sleepily, the late hour starting to get to him. 

Charlotte could feel the tell-tale signs of Michael starting to drift off but despite the late hour, she found her brain unwilling to turn off as she thought about them. And how lucky she was to be with him. Weeks of disagreement and strife but they still found their way back to each other, found safety and refuge to reveal their fears and actually come closer together after so much time apart. 

If asked, Charlotte wasn’t sure she could find the words to articulate the love she had for this man and the love she felt from him. She never believed she would find this - someone who loved her so deeply, so purely. Someone whose love didn’t hurt. Who loved her scars she saw as ugly and the parts of her that she hid from the world, the parts that were barely bandaged together. For some unknown reason, he did. And he chose every day to love her through it all. 

The painful stinging of tears behind her eyes hit her as she sniffled. This is what hope and excitement about the future felt like, something that before Michael she rarely felt. Because regardless of what happened with her career or anything else, she couldn’t wait to build her life with him. This love was light and everything she hoped for but didn’t believe she deserved. And for the first time since the incident, she wasn’t scared to lose it. She no longer felt like she was watching their love story in fear of the end, but that she was watching it blossom. Because this was just the beginning of their story. 

“You good?” he asked as she sniffled quietly, lifting his head to find her eyes glistening in the dark with tears. “What’s wrong, honey bee??” 

“Nothing, nothing. These are happy tears, I think. I just… Marry me.” 

Michael let out a confused chuckle. “I know it was a crazy few days back then but you remember I already did this right? Proposed?” 

She reached over and turned on their bedside lamp, Michael shifting so she could sit up. 

“Yessss I know. I’m not reproposing. I’d never propose to a man, goes against my religion. I’m saying… Marry me… now. Well, not now as in here,” she amended quickly. “I mean, we’re in bed and we don’t have a marriage license but I don’t wanna wait.” 

“Els… don’t say that shit if you don’t mean it. It’s been a long few days, an emotional few months. We don’t gotta rush if you aren’t ready…”

Michael did not want to get ahead of himself or too excited, worried that she was swept up in the emotions of the day. After all, deciding to get married right away was something he would usually suggest, not her. She has always been the more cautious one where they were concerned. But he could not deny that if she was serious, she would be making him the happiest man on this planet. He was so ready to be her husband, to vow to love her for the rest of his days. He was dreading the year+ it would likely take to find the right time for a wedding given their schedules. He had bounced around ideas of smaller, intimate destination weddings in the fall but they hadn’t found the right fit yet.  

“I’m not rushing. I can see how it looks like that but this isn’t rushing. And I know we still have shit to figure out. I just… It’s gonna sound cliche but whatever time I have with you, whatever time I have to love you and be loved by you? I don’t want to waste it. I don’t wanna wait 3 or 4 months till we’re back in LA or however long it’ll take to plan some big wedding I don’t need. You’ve never wasted our time, Bakari. You’ve always been so sure and moved with that assurance. And I’ve never felt rushed by any of it, it’s always just felt right. And this? I feel sure, it feels right. We could wait if you want to, I’ll totally understand. I know this is literally insane. But I’m ready to be your wife, to build a life with you. I’m ready for our next step and I think you are too? Maybe?” 

At his silence, she added. “And it doesn’t have to be a big thing. We can go to the courthouse for all I care.” 

Silence. 

“Say something… please. Before I pray that God let’s the ground swallow me whole from embarrassment.” 

“My bad my bad. I was trying to find the words but then got offended at you thinking I’m gonna give you a courthouse wedding like we’re two teens trying to hide a pregnancy or some shit.” 

“What?? There’s nothing wrong with a courthouse wedding.” 

“Nah there isn’t but what about your family?? Mine? You don’t know how happy this makes me. And I’m all in without hesitation. But you deserve a special day, not a drive by at the courthouse. Give me 30 days, Els. Memorial Day weekend in LA, let me make it special for you.” 

Charlotte transitioned to sitting up on her knees before literally catapulting herself into his arms with pure excitement. Michael had to roll a bit to make sure they didn’t topple right off the bed. 

“We really doing this?? We’re getting married in 30 days?” 

“Yea! I can’t wait to be your wife, Bakari. Besides, you were right, Tony award winning Charlotte Bennett-Jordan has a far better ring to it.” 

“Fuck I love you so much,” his heart could’ve exploded into a million pieces in his chest. There was work to be done but they’d do it together, every day for the rest of their lives. And he couldn’t wait. 

“I love you more.” 

“Impossible.” He stared down at her, licking his lips as his eyes filled with lust. “You awake enough now for me to show you just how much?” 

Charlotte squeezed her legs together as his deep baritone reignited that feeling in her core. His lips searched for her weak spot on the side of her neck, caressing and sucking with the skill of a God. Fuck, it had been too long. But something stopped her. 

“I want you… so bad. But what if we wait until the wedding?” At his incredulous expression, she added, “You know, think about how much more special it’ll be after we’ve reconnected more emotionally after all this, our first time back in a while as husband and wife. It could be really special. What do you think?” 

Michael knew in his brain that she was right, it would be more special and intense after a long bout of celibacy. But the smaller head that controlled some of his decision making… was less than thrilled. 

So he immediately got out of bed and started to walk toward the bathroom. 

“Ok we haven’t had sex in weeks, 30 more days couldn’t have upset you that much??” she called out after him, her surprise clear in her tone. 

Michael turned as he reached the door, smiling his superstar boyish grin at her. “I’m not mad, I’m in. I’m just… gonna jump in the shower.” 

Charlotte doubled over in laughter at him. “Let me guess, a cold one?” 

“Ice cold. You shouldn’t be so irresistible, honey bee.” 

“You’re a mess,” she smiled at him. But he was her mess. And she loved him for it.  

“Maybe but fair warning, you won’t be tapping out that night.” 

She smiled. “As if I’d ever tap out on you. I guess we’ll be sleeping in separate corners tonight again?” 

“We’ll see how effective this cold shower is.” 

She let out a belly laugh as she flopped back into their warm covers and he started the shower. She could hear a girlish shrill noise a few moments later that she suspected was him stepping into the freezing water. She had to use their duvet to muffle the sounds of her giggles as she listened to him mutter expletives as he adjusted to the water temperature. 

“You good in there? Sounds like someone’s dying?” she called loudly over the water, deciding that she couldn’t not tease him for this. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep??” 

She rolled her eyes with a grin and turned over to try to fall asleep, leaving her future husband to his needed activities. There would be quite a few cold showers and long runs in their future. For the next 30 days at least.

Taglist: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend @ari17

***

A/N: I realized that the last time I updated the main story was like December lol my sweet OG babies... But they're getting married!! I really wanted to explore their recovery and hang ups before moving them forward. The next chapter is their wedding and then our final chapter (can you guess what night that'll be? lol) drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

[aka-indulgence]

Not the End

Thank you @skelliefanatic for commissioning! I liked this idea a lot, contains MF!Sans being a gentleman /w\

(MF!Sans x NB!Reader [Gender Neutral])

Sans was a man of high class. He had to be, considering his occupation, so you aren’t at all too surprised by his choice of dinner location.

The balcony area was a bit of a surprise, however… you hope he isn’t planning anything.

(CW: mentions of unpleasant ex)

—————

You walked through chatter and clinks of silverware on porcelain, grateful for the choice of clothes you wore. The crowd of the massive, five-star restaurant were the high class, in their extravagant outfits. You wore a velvety maroon cloak that draped over your shoulders, a dark grey turtleneck and green bottoms. You combed your hair for this, leaving your locks of curly hair ordered.

As soon as you mentioned the name of the reserved, the hostess almost seemed to panic, standing up, leading you through the tables. You looked around for the dapper skeleton, but you found him nowhere, until the hostess brought you to a door. When she opens it, you’re led to a private balcony sitting, overlooking the city.

You felt your heartbeats grow louder. It was a beautiful space, with mood lighting, a candle, and it overlooked the purple city, with tall skyscrapers and glowing yellow windows. But seating away from everyone else, with only two chairs made you…

“doll!” Sans stood up, flashing his golden grin at you, his face brightening. You have no idea how long he’s been waiting here- you came at the time he told you to come. “thanks, i’ll take it from here,”

The hostess bowed, and almost too quickly says “Of course Mr. Sans, sir,” before making herself scarce and closing the door.

Sans strolls around and gives you a squeeze. It was weird, seeing just what kind of effect the mob boss had on people around him, while to you he was… a friend. A friend who just pulled your seat out for you, because he was nice.

There’s… nothing wrong with sitting with a friend in a balcony seating. Sans had expensive taste, after all.

After looking through the menu and ordering, Sans looked to you.

“you look lovely today, sweetheart.” Sans complimented. Sans complimented you a lot, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Thanks! Of course I wasn’t going in with a t-shirt and some jeans if we’re going to La Stella.”

The skeleton chuckled. He was always dapper, considering his occupation, but somehow, his apparel seemed more expensive tonight. He wore a tuxedo that seemed to hug his form better, with a red handkerchief in his top pocket. He had a crimson brocade tie with intricate patterns that flickered with the candlelight. His tux also seemed almost iridescent, with how it looked almost black, but where the moonlight hit him, looked mauve.

Sans was actually quite the slob when you knew him personally, wearing stained shirts and throwing his ties on the floor to the point where his brother yelling at him was a constant background noise in his house when you visited.

“Or is this your strategy on roping people into shady deals with you? By charming them?”

“nah, i pretend i’m a demon when i meet them. for you, i’ll be an angel,” Sans cooed sarcastically.

The conversation continued well after your meals arrived. The conversation eased you, reminding you that this was the Sans you knew. Even if everything looked different, from the surroundings to the suit he wore, Sans was still Sans.

“What made you think to eat at such a fancy shmancy place? I thought your favorite food were hotdogs,”

“hey, i’m not a cheapass either, just that i ain’t a picky eater,” He says, after a bite of tagliatelle. “anyways, i gotta repay you someway,”

You looked at him incredulously. “For the cake I baked you the other day?”

“five stars,”

You giggled, noticing the wind that blew through your hair and your cloak. You closed your eyes and took a breath, letting it out with a sigh. It’s not often you get fresh air around here, and you turned your head to beyond the balcony. It was getting later, and there were less lights in tall buildings. It gave the city a warm glow from below, from the street lights and the rabble walking home. You didn’t notice Sans smiling at you, taking you in, until his larger hand presses on top of yours.

He says your name softly.

“you’re… an amazing human. i’m so lucky i know you… your beauty takes my breath away.”

You frowned.

“i was… wonderin’... if i could call you mine.”

His fingers wrapped around yours. Your heart dropped.

No… no not again…

Before you knew it, you yanked your hand away from him like he was fire, pushing back from the table, your knee bumping into the table. Sans eyelights shrink.

No… he’s going to yell at me.

“s-sweetheart?”

“No, Sans, I,” you’re distracted. Your breathing sounds like it’s in your head, and it’s deafening.

You don’t know what the point of standing up was, just that you felt like the world was falling out under you as your knees buckled. Sans catches you before you could fall, and you don’t know if having him hold you was better or not. But you trust Sans.

I’m panicking. But I can’t stop.

At least you weren’t in the main room.

Sans looked around helplessly, carrying you back to your chair, and knelt beside you, keeping his eye level with yours.

“darling, i don’t know what’s going on, i dunno if you’re sick or…”

You sniffled, head pounding. “I-I’m sorry Sans. Please don’t be mad at me, but… I can’t say yes to you. I don’t know if I… not now, at least,”

There’s a pause, and for a moment you thought Sans was upset. But when you looked up, you see a look of relief on his face as he sighed.

“god… you scared me. i thought you hated me, or… havin’ a heart attack or somethin’. is that all?”

You don’t follow. “You’re… not angry?”

Sans chuckled. “well… i ain’t happy about it, but… hell no. why would i be mad at you? you’re more important than anything. you’re not mad about me askin’ you out, right?”

“No.”

“then i’m fine. but… it looks like you aren’t.”

You didn’t respond to that.

“... can i ask you… what’s got you all worked up like this?”

“... Yeah, you can.” You brush a hand on your cheek. “Sorry… I just feel so stupid,”

“you’re not stupid.”

You smile appreciatively at him. “It’s just… I know you’re not him.”

“... him?”

You told him. You told him all about the last time you had a boyfriend. An extravagant spender that you wouldn’t doubt would be part of the group that’d try to kiss up to Sans if they knew each other. You don’t remember how you started to like him, just that by the end you couldn’t handle him anymore- picking apart your outfits, your body, throwing a tantrum every time you didn’t do what he wanted when he wanted you to.

Sans isn’t him. You wouldn’t find so much comfort being around him otherwise, but… he lived a similar life, with the same expensive living. It made you think of unpleasant memories sometimes.

No was a scary word to you.

As you finished explaining, tears involuntarily fell out of your eyes, and you turned away from him.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault,” you told Sans, trying to keep your voice stable.

“... it’s not yours either,”

A gentle hand turns your face back to his, and Sans wiped the tears off your cheek, tucking your hair back.

“shh… it’s ok. it’s ok to cry,” Sans sighed. His brows furrowed, perhaps thinking about your ex, but he shook it off, smiling at you. “it’s not your fault, it never was. of course you’d be afraid of rejecting me, i can imagine,”

He looked away, teeth frowning as he thought. “i’m not angry at you, ok?” He reassured you, “just… angry i couldn’t help sooner. but you don’t gotta worry about me, heh… i’m a big guy, i can handle a lot of things. i’ll wait however long it takes for you to reciprocate.”

You smiled at him, touching his hand and finding comfort at the way he squeezed yours.

“But… what if I never do?” You worried. You like him, and somewhere, you could imagine being a couple with him, but… you aren’t sure.

To that, Sans just shook his head.

“as long as i got you in my life one way or another, i’m happy.”

[kkbardd]

so uhh i got summoned to asurei court, if anyone's interested in my testimony papers, theyre down below the cut. (aka my whole take on how i believe their dynamic would develop in cannon)

asurei isn’t for everyone & its whole point is unhealthy dependence.. toxic yuri if u will.. anything resembling a healthy relationship would only be in one of the alt universes created by the 3rd impact 💀 rei and asuka both have what the other wants (whether it be the worth asuka puts on recognition of piloting skills or rei's desire to break from mindless obedience like asuka seems to do so easily.) They both hate and admire each other for this, and asuka specifically expresses this by lashing out at rei. asuka's whole relationship w lesbian comphet plays a HUGE role into all of this but let’s gloss over it for the time being. (now, with asurei u gotta get a bit delusional cuz cannon doesn’t give us much so from here on out is just my opinion on how it'd play out.)

in terms of rei's POV in this:

rei hates the attention they gets from men, and is especially disgusted by gendo's fake kindness. he sees rei as a replaceable doll and pushes yui's image on them. gendo has never actually seen rei for who they really are, and rei later begins to hate and despise not only gendo but themselves too. in the anime, rei is shown to have self destructive tendencies & suicidal ideation because not only are they constantly being replaced & having their memory wiped, but each time they forget any sort of emotion that they learn in the meantime. recall the scene in which rei, right after being "revived" and left with no memory, sees gendo's glasses. although they cant remember anything, its hinted that their "soul" still remembers and hates him. rei tries to break the glasses but in the end, they’re still unable to defy and break free from their situation. feeling frustrated and helpless, rei starts crying & remarks how this should be the first time they've experienced it but somehow it feels like its not. back to the present, reis acting very reckless in battle and basically using themselves as a meat shield. they're so full of self-hate, and seeing asuka's obvious inferiority to them just upsets them even more. why does she put so much worth on the one thing that acts like a plague to them? compared to these pointless test results on a screen, asuka has something so much more valuable. the ability to think for themselves, to not be someone's doll. asuka's inferiority is almost insulting. rei verbally lashes out at asuka in the elevator, showing defiance that they never knew they could produce. it felt almost liberating. they find that being around asuka gives them emotions that they've always longed for, no matter how ugly they may be. they soon find themselves seeking asuka out, and the inferiority that was once insulting became a means to control and keep her close. asuka, someone who was seemingly invincible and can roam free without care, has one weakness that causes her to crack and shatter from the slightest touch. and that weakness is none other than rei themselves. rei becomes possessive in a way that they've never known possible. so much so that a part of them starts to hate themselves, fearing they've become just like their abuser gendo. nonetheless, rei begins to value their life more. they become deathly afraid of dying & being replaced by some mindless clone that has forgotten everything they now know about asuka and themself.

now what is asuka doing in all of this?

asuka deals with a lot of comphet and its an integral part of her character, so much so that it doesn’t seem right to not mention it. but to quickly summarize, because of this she has a love-hate relationship with attention from men. she feels disgusted by it but gets extremely jealous when it seems like another girl might replace her. then comes rei. (now what most ppl don’t seem to notice is asuka didnt start off hating rei, she tried to be friends but ever since the beginning misato has ALWYAYS pitted them against each other. this of course led asuka to feeling threatened & seeing rei as an enemy. especially since it involves piloting ability, something that asuka sees as her whole point of living.) she begins to hate her because how can someone who is so good at piloting be so brainless and doll-like. that’s exactly what asuka was trying so hard to not become! in this aspect, rei's entire existence defies what asuka has tried so hard to believe in up to this point. her hate & inferiority towards rei is only made worse when she sees that they're not only being objectified by men, but are seemingly unbothered by it unlike asuka. rei is now constantly on her mind, and asuka starts to realize that what she's feeling towards them isn’t just hate. its around the time of the elevator scene that these confusing emotions and inferiorities are at their peak. right after this, asuka goes into battle & is ordered to be rei's backup. she defies this order but receives a mental attack from an angel that causes her to re-live all of her trauma & comphet issues. the person that saved her from this is none other than rei. at this point asuka is at an all-time low, and states that she'd rather be left for dead than saved by someone like rei. she’s still confused by her feelings towards rei, but right now her hatred and insecurity is taking priority. its right after this battle that her synchro rates plummet and she loses the #1 thing she based her life worth on. she then goes out to die in an abandoned building but is eventually retrieved by NERV. I believe that during this time alone, she’s also wallowing in her feelings for rei and coming to terms with a lot of comphet stuff, especially after that psychological attack. right after this the world like ends or whatever but lets forget that for now & extend time cuz the gays need it 🥰 .

rei and asuka at this point realize their feelings in one way or another, and there's a lot of tension in their conversations. asuka is at a very fragile point rn bc of all the stuff that just went on, and rei is unsure how to go about things, half due to their inexperience & half due to their fear of becoming like gendo. however, asuka realizes rei is acting different from before, and advances on them as a way of lashing out. but to her surprise rei is undefiant and actually willingly helpless in her hands. she feels a rush of superiority and is amused by how inexperienced rei is. she also realizes that unlike her previous experiences with men (like when she tried to kiss shinji but didnt want to see, smell, taste, or even feel it & had a mental breakdown afterwards lol ) she actually likes it!? the romantic/sexual affirmation that asuka has always wanted from men like kaji is being fulfilled by rei in a way that asuka feels completely in control & comfortable. she's not forcing herself or being objectified, but rather is taking the lead. this is something she never imagined possible before. and all of this is with rei to boot! the rei that, in asuka's eyes, has always looked down on her and been unobtainable is now melting in her hands like putty. there’s a sense of accomplishment she feels, which makes her want to push rei even more. she finally has authority and to make herself feel better, she takes it out on rei through advances like this. she goes further and further, and in an ironic way, uses intimacy as a form of self-harm. she feels shame and despises herself for doing such things with ill-intent, and with another woman at that. its a toxic relationship that tries to fill the hole in her heart, but only leads to a bigger one forming.

when asuka first advanced onto rei, they felt something unlike anything before. unlike when gendo would often touch their shoulder, rei didnt recoil from asuka's touch. rei also felt something similar to asuka, in that the person who always seemed unbound by anything in now giving them her undivided attention. the fact that this came from an act of anger didnt really bother rei, since they knew from the beginning that was one of the only ways to get asuka to even spare them a glance. rei would gladly become hated if it meant binding asuka to them. in a mix of touch-starvedness & unhealthy dependency on asuka, rei kept looking forward to any interacting with asuka, since it was what really made them feel alive. asuka slowly becomes rei's world and meaning for living, but they eventually realize that causes a great insecurity. asuka is independent and can go anywhere she wants if she feels like it. from rei's pov, asuka desperately wants attention from men, something that rei could never give her. rei's afraid that asuka will leave them, & to tie asuka down they play the role of a villain. rei keeps asuka feeling insecure by becoming what asuka envisioned them as, and slowly starts hacking away at asuka's Achille's heel. rei desperately uses the short time that asuka has given them to engrain themself into her, so much so that asuka would be nothing without them. rei cannot let asuka realize her worth for fear that she would leave them. rei notices that asuka enjoys seeing them helpless and plays the part, almost like a honeytrap. slowly tho I believe that rei starts to take control of the relationship in hopes of making asuka dependent on them.

Asurei is in no way a wholesome relationship, and ik that’s not for everyone.. my vision of a happy end for them would be both of them becoming comfortable in their relationship and finding that the actions they once used to express hatred for themselves and each other is now slowly becoming fueled by love and desire for each other. They form a very unhealthy co-dependence on each other, but for them it works. They cant envision a world without the other in it.

[stampsthemeow]

CRP AU STUFF

their rooms :3

Characters included; Jeff the killer, Twilight (OC), Ticci toby, EJ, Ben, Sally, Brian, Tim, Missing (OC), Alex, Jay, Dale (OC), Halo (OC), Zach (OC), Nina

Jeff the killer; Upstairs, MESSY, dawg does not clean up. who needs laundry baskets when you got the floor !! Bed upper left corner (he only got a bedframe so he could shove shit under his bed), dresser besides it (covered in pill bottles and monsters), desk in bottom left corner. Lights almost always off, shitty band posters on his walls (most have tears on them) Window covered up with blackout curtains. Door is painted pink (prank done by Ben and Toby that never got painted over), Walls are painted black

he and twilight have a connecting bathroom (door on right wall for jeff, left wall for twil)

Twilight; upstairs, little messy, no where near as bad as jeffs room, its mostly just old drawings on the ground. Bed also upper left corner, has closet on left wall, large desk in upper right corner, main light almost always off, but unlike jeff she got lamps and window (on back wall). Most of the glass that used to be in the window is broke. thin flowy curtains. Beige walls (she never painted over them) multiple shelves with little trinkets and items. Floor is covered in paint/hair dye

Toby; downstairs in the proxy area (they got their own little zone so they dont gotta deal with the others + so they can get to slender's office faster) Messy, but in a its just cool decor way, brown walls, Bed is upper right corner (under his bed is used for storage), Has a big closet on the left side of his room, main light isnt used much but he has alot of lamps/smaller lights, fan always on, window on back wall with a cool patterned curtain he found, he has tons of posters and has stolen road signs just to add to his walls, a few plants (somehow alive), He has a box full of CDs and vinyls he's been meaning to display (some are on shelves but alot are still in boxes cause he is lazy) multiple small tables/ shelves to store cool shit he finds.

EJ; Downstairs, clean, dark blue painted walls, bed in upper left corner (why do all these fuckers have bed left wall), has wardrobe against right wall, no window, lights always off (broken), Has LED lights, though when on they are set to blue and only blue. One of the few people to have a tv in their room (attached to front wall), has bookshelf in room (how he read if no eyes and dark ???), has a shelf full of rocks & crystals (gifted to him by toby)

Ben; Basement, dirty, stupid child, no bed, couch, against back wall, Tv on front wall ontop of his dresser, Zelda posers (that have been drawn over to make link into Ben) all over his walls, a bunch of different consoles + their games sit ontop of his dresser aswell, main light on alot, but when off LED lights on. idk what else to say about him.

Sally; downstairs, Pink vertical stripped walls, clean-ish, Bed in upper right corner, big low table in the middle of her room (for tea partys), Window on back wall + pink patterned curtains. dresser on the end of her bed, small (whats meant to be a bookcase) used to store her tea party supplies (and a few books) Kitchen play set in the lower left of her room, Big dollhouse pressed against window, alot of stuffed animals and drawings/drawing supplies scattered in the room. Big light almost always on.

Brian/Tim/Missing (they share a room);, Downstairs in proxy area, clean, beige walls, big bed in lower right corner w/ bedside table on the left, closet is on the right wall, one of those long L shaped desks on the left wall, Missing's stupid stuff is all just stored upper left corner (hes okay with all it just being there so they dont do anything about it), window with black curtains on the back wall ,not much going on in their room tbh,

them and Jay/Alex have a connecting bathroom (door on left wall for Brim+Missing, Door on right wall for Alex and Jay)

Alex/Jay (they share a room cause there was only the one room remaining in the proxy area)(the only reason why there is a room left is cause Tim and Brian used to have diff rooms); Downstairs in the proxy area, clean-ish, beige walls, Two beds on opposite sides of the room, dressers on ends of the beds, Jays half of the room is messier, (he too busy eeping to clean), Alex surprising keeps his half clean. Theyve been meaning to buy shit to actually decorate their room but theres only 1 car, and Tim is like the only one with a vaild drivers license (everyone else is legally dead or just doesnt have one). Jay and Alex are still very iffy with eachother but L to them gotta share a room. Jay likes it dark so alex just has lamps, Window is covered with thick curtains (but not blackout)

Dale/Halo/zach ; Downstairs in the proxy area (they are not proxys, why the fuck are they here) Clean-ish, Gray walls, bed in middle of front wall, window with seating area thingy :3 (zach likes sleeping on the seating thingy), Bathroom connected on right wall, Closet on right wall, mutiple boxes full stuff related to dales special interests, desk at upper left corner

NON MANSION CRPS;

Nina; Lives in an small apartment like right outside of Slenderwoods, lives on 5th floor, messy, stuff all over, bathroom has so many bows just chilling there (+ covered in hair dye), shitty gray carpet, without her landlords permission he painted her walls purple, some fandom + band posters on her walls, has stolen some of the slender pages to hang on her walls. Bed on the middle of left wall, with her dresser on the head of the bed + a beanbag chair at the end of her bed, stickers & plushies everywhere.

Corrupt- Corrupt dimension, she just kinda sleeps wherever tf she wants so i havent made a specific bedroom for her

Jane/Mary, they live in a big, old, house, very cool gothic house, idk about their bedroom tho they just live in a coolass house

Clockwork/liu/anyone else i didnt mention- I dont fucking know i havent planned it out yet (clockwork lives in the same apartment complex as Nina, Liu lives far away from the mansion, everything else idk)

[keithal]

in honor of @iwtvfanevents a meal to remember event, here's an iwtv fic rec post with a twist: all of these fics range from 20-50 kudos ONLY. no popular fics. my blog is first and foremost a supporter of small businesses.

a song of blood and teeth by exastris_scientia (@keepoffthetardis): asoiaf au! there's nothing i like better than an intelligently written au, and this is definitely the best one i've seen in the fandom yet. i recommend reading it even if ur unfamiliar with asoiaf (i've never read a word by george rr martin and i still enjoyed this a great deal)

vacation by bandedbulbussnarfblat (@bandedbulbussnarfblat): just thinking abt this fic sends me into hysterics. never before have i been reading an armandaniel fic and sat there like "no i agree w the toxic psychopath vampire. that's a fucked up thing to do :/"

a memory is a ghost (regret, regret) by flowerplots (@enterprisery): reading this the first time knocked me backwards thru time. AMAZING louisdaniel fic written by one of the biggest brains to ever brain. flowerplot's ideas are always so unique and such a delight to read.

a memory is a memory (is a memory?) by flowerplots (@enterprisery): GOOD LORD. this is a follow-up to the previous fic that somehow made me even more insane. leans hard on the idea of not being able to trust a word being said because none of it happened but it all happened. except of course when it didn't.

when teeth bite in by patrokla: short but INCREDIBLE. my brain turns over theories abt what happened post-1973 interview and how it connects to present-day dubai like a rotissiere chicken 24/7. i love the prose in this fic especially. i think abt "[Daniel] would say it, but he’s experiencing a distinct melting sensation. He’s only barely corporeal. He's losing himself" every single day.

Who Wore it Best? by whimsy_walrus: lestat and daniel slept together in new orleans. this is canon to me. i fantasize abt hacking into rollins' computer and replacing whatever s2 script's been written w this instead

Toward the Blue Peninsula by adreadfulidea: obsessed with gen claudia-focused fics and this one has gotta be my favorite one in existence. i hope in this universe where claudia escaped to europe she lived happy eternity writing poems with emily dickenson the vampire

reliquary by weathermood (@weather-mood): LOUIS' CANE. i'm always thinking abt louis' cane. and what does the wonderful weathermood do? give me even more reason to obsess over it. this fic HAUNTS ME.

happy reading! :D

[naturenaruto]

nobut literaly i love a forced???

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

transed??????????? jiang cheng like hear me out lmao

-his parents only married bc forced obviously so they needed a Reward from the marriage to reinforce that they did the right thing what they had to blahblah

-what is this Reward oh right a child ofc

-so they first have yanli and ofc yzy is trying sthhoo hard to reasurre that they needed one of these too and that shell make a good bargaining chip in he future just gotta give it 10-16 years hehheh..

-then jfm is like k fine ill deal BUT we had better have a baby with a PENIS next OR ELSE

-BAD NEWS! they dont get a baby with a penis

-cue yzy scrambling to come up with a way to justify a girls existence (So Difficult) bc they already have the one (1) they didnt need TWO babies w vaginas goodness no so after evaluating her state and determining that no more will come out of her own vagvag she then comes up with a brilliant plan that will get everyone what they want: trans their infant

-so they decide that since they havent declared any name or whatever Theres Still Time so they just....start telling everyone they had a son (wiiiith a penis™️) and they had already told yanli she had a little sister but oops haha kids just tend to mishear misremeber things haha nope defintly a little b r o t h e r *yzy glare* yanli: haha o yes my younger BROther haha yes can i go now

-crisis averted

-so then they just decide to raise her ahem him as a son therefore heir Everythings Fine and besides yzy: oh it just doesnt even matter i mean girls can become *just* as good cultivators as boys cough im sure with myyyy training (and genes) he'll be the best in the sect anyways not like a u know what makes any difference amirite jfm: 😒 uhyeah sure honey whatever u say😓

-so anyways jc is raised as a boy and yanli does in fact know but defers to her mother at first and then jc and so

-GREAT NEWS! jc is Perfectly Fine being a boy™️! no worries here haha

-but as it turns out even when it looks like boy and walks like a boy and talks like a boy and fights like a boy if it doesnt have that penis™️

-well

-so this is why i [hc] that jfm resents and dislikes and invalidates jc because he doesnt......see him as his actual son

-like thats why hes always secondguessing and calling him out and pointing things out and commenting on him like......he doesnt do those things to yanli bc theres. o point yanli does whats required of her and also she doesnt Really Matter but jc unfortunaltely does matter and jfm resents that a vagina could be an heir and yzy knows it and knows her husband never respected her even though shes canonically lauded as a cultivator....and knows that the only reason he validated™️ csr is bc he was fluffing her up bc he wanted to marry her....not bc he wanted a cultivation partner but bc he wanted a Wife™️

-well yzy is no mans Wife™️ so she does her Absolute Best to ensure that jc is qualified (and he is!!!!!)

-except enter wwx and all that scheming goes out the window bc now jfm has found not only an actual (re: had penis) son but csr'ssss son and he now plots to put him in front of jc even going so far as to imply that they could somehow untrans him by ~revealing~~ that oopsies he was Actually A Girl the entire time hehe but now she'lllll be married to the successor Mr. Wei so its k now

-!!!!!!

-yzy: *~~~zidian~~~* -jfm: *muffled broken screams of a man being beaten by a woman* -so blah blah blah ppl dying etc blah

-after everyones dead and wwxs gone.....jc just......was never really asked by anyone not even yanli if he was ok with any of this he just kinda said well i still have long hair the clothes are more comfortable i still wanna cultivate does it matter whats in my pants???? its all baggy anyways whos business is it! *classic jc glare* -so besides the (now very dead) wen no one knows or at the very least they pretend like they dont so its realy never an issue

-jc feels fine it doesnt feel forced the only problem was that he knows it was never meant for him and that no matter how good he got........someone with a penis was always going to be better

[nikkeisimmer]

How to Drive Oneself Nuts Writing a Sims 3 Legacy

Writing a storyline before you actually sit down to play the game to capture screencaps can be mindnumbingly difficult. In part because of the brain thinking up of scenarios that cannot be duplicated in the Sims 3.

For example:

Anticipation to see Victoria’s sights got the pair up early in the morning. Breakfast was a continental breakfast downstairs in the hotel restaurant. Then it was off to see the Bay Centre with a little more relaxing pace than the hurried pace they had sustained yesterday night.

River’s glance towards him was coy and flirtatious; “I wanna go see La Senza…” she said in a low voice.

“OK…” Haruo said. He knew there were other shops that he wanted to frequent too, but he would head for La Senza with River because it was what she wanted and well…there were benefits for him too…although those would be reaped in private.

River spent at least half an hour to an hour in La Senza browsing through the various intimate apparel that was available. This was a side of her that Haruo was not acquainted with; the passionate River, the tantalizing glimpses of her as they made love in the bedroom or hotel rooms were a delight to his own libido, but the one that was just out of his reach right now was the one that wanted to start a family with him. But he had a plan. That he was about to execute.

When River had finished up and Haruo had provided his credit card to pay for said items, he suggested that they go to Ann-Louise jewelers. River raised an eyebrow in question. Haruo just grinned enigmatically. They both walked hand in hand into the jewelry store.

By this time, I know I have to have a jewelry store in the story and an attendant as well as some display cases. The question is though can I find jewelry, rings and other things that are sold at a jewelry store so that I can create this so that I can screencap a few shots in here to go along with the storyline. This is one of the reasons why this story is stalled at the moment. I just don't have the patience to deal with this at this time.

Because later on in the story just a few paragraphs down:

Not everyone could drop §98,500 simoleons on an engagement ring, but Haruo could… and River was worth it. She was going to get surprised. Because there was also something else Haruo had planned this afternoon. It was attending the Fairmont Empress’s afternoon tea. The Fairmont Empress like the Grand Pacific, that Haruo and River were staying at, overlooked the Harbour and it was a quick walk over to the Fairmont from their hotel.

But currently, they were at the Bay Centre and they wanted something to eat. “Hey, can you go find us both something to eat?” Haruo asked River. “I gotta make a run to the washroom, I think I remember seeing one…just before La Senza.”

“Don’t they have one in the food-court?” River thought Haruo was acting kind of strange.

“Yeah…but the food-court one always ends up busy as heck and I don’t want to wait for a stall to open up.” OK…that sounded logical.

“You OK with A&W?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with A&W…” Haruo said. River gave him a kiss and he wandered off to go find a washroom…or more accurately nail down that ring and the other one in the display case.

It was about twenty minutes later that he came back. River eyed him with a disbelieving stare “Twenty minutes?”

“Yeah…somehow that one got just as full.” Haruo prevaricated looking as innocent as ever, “…had to wait for three guys…only three stalls in that bathroom and evidently everyone just had to come in right at that time, y’know.” He was lucky. She had bought him an A&W Mozza Combo and herself a Mama Burger combo; she got onion rings, she got him a large fries with the bank card he’d passed to her from his operating account which had roughly about §558.00 in it at the time. The two rings were tucked deep within his pockets, the keys to his Mercedes resting on top of them. He plunked himself down in the chair and grinned at her. River shook her head at him indulgently. Whew…she didn’t guess. Haruo thought as he sat down to munch on his Mozza burger.

I have to build an entire FOOD COURT from scratch? Why the hell does my brain do this?!

Oh…and did anyone miss the It was attending the Fairmont Empress’s afternoon tea.

In just ONE paragraph my brain has decided that it is going to make me build TWO F***ING VENUES!!!

Again, I ask myself. WHY does my brain decide that it's going to do this to me?

[thecooler]

Landmine

Wake had rules of engagement when it came to dealing with any of the Emperor’s favorite minions— his specialist little zombies— lyctors. Those rules of engagement were as follows: 1. Do not fucking engage 2. If you somehow end up doing that, give them hell.

Words: 5,213

Relationships: Gideon the First/Commander Wake/Pyrrha Dve, Commander Wake & Our Lady of the Passion

Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Enemies and Lovers, Non-Explicit Sex, Fighting and Fucking and Fighting as Fucking

Written for the TLT Holiday Gift Exchange on ao3, also my first work in the fandom so you gotta be nice :P

AO3 Mirror

Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity was born in the pile of smouldering ashes that was the Blood of Eden. When she was very small, her mother told her stories about what they used to be, back in her grandmother’s day, and how the zombies and wizards had overwhelmed them with their numbers and their tricks, how her grandmother, her uncles, and countless more had been killed and had their bodies desecrated and turned into fuel with which to kill their brethren. She told her that one day, they would rise from the ashes, and triumph, and Wake believed that with her whole wretched heart.

When she was twelve, she held a gun for the first time. Her little calloused fingers fit around the grip like they were meant to be there. She raised her shaky hand, guided by her elder sister, God Shall Be My Hope. Their mother had been blown apart from the inside by a wizard, her parts too small and burnt to bear any resemblance to the person she once was. The Nine Houses, as it always did, reduced people to tools of war, and her mother was in the right place and the right time to become a bomb. It wouldn’t happen like that to her.

“I’m gonna bring us back,” she said, a few years later, when she was old enough to know that the Blood of Eden was operating like shit, but not old enough to know how to fix it. She said, “like we used to be, before they found that base and wrecked our shit.”

She remembered that Hope looked tired, and a bit scared. She always looked tired— bucking up at the age of fifteen and raising your sister did that to a girl. The fear was new, though. She said, “I don’t want you to go out like mom, Wake.”

Wake slid the magazine back into the pistol and smiled a nasty, curling, bitter smile, “Not up to me, but let me tell ya’— if I’m going out, I’m taking as many zombies as I can down with me. They’re gonna remember me, and even when I’m dead, my name’s gonna scare the piss out of them.”

Her sister said, “I hope you’re right.”

Ten years after that, Wake was a Wing Commander, and things were starting to go right. She knew how to hold any gun without shaking and without hesitating. She knew how a zombie’s eyes looked when light left them, and she knew more than anyone that they weren’t unkillable.

Her sister, meanwhile, was dying in childbirth on a shitty patch of dirt that the Houses’ God had long since forgotten. Wake made herself stay by her side and listen to her howls of pain. They didn’t have any anesthetic or morphine— their stores had been sacked by a drove of Cohort pigs not even a week ago. Wake was on fire. She was red-hot furious. Hope was dying— fucking hell— and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

She said, “Save her, save her. I don’t fucking care about kid.”

Her sister wailed and clawed at her arm and hair and she said, “No, don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you fucking dare.”

But in the end neither of them really had much of a say in the matter. Hope died with a name on her lips, and Wake, who had never wanted to be a mother, gave it to the newborn Our Lady of the Passion, and did what her sister had all those years ago— she loved that shitty kid as best as she could.

---

Wake had rules of engagement when it came to dealing with any of the Emperor’s favourite minions— his specialist little zombies— lyctors. Those rules of engagement were as follows:

1. Do not fucking engage

2. If you somehow end up doing that, give them hell

The Commander had not woken up that day with the notion that she’d be toe-to-toe with a lyctor. But here she was, boots scraping up hard-packed red earth as she danced around one of their rapiers.

“You look like a pussy, fighting with that thing,” she snarled.

And the zombie smiled. Deep brown eyes crinkled around the edges, and stark white teeth peeked out through dark lips. Infuriatingly, it was devastatingly handsome. This realization slapped her across the face, and she thought, distantly, if I get out of this thing, I need to get laid ASAP.

It smiled, and then it pulled a spear out of the rigid corpse of one of its comrades and lunged towards Wake. The speed of it might have been impressive, if the asshole wasn’t literally bringing knives to a gun fight. She raised her pistol to block the spearhead before it made contact with her chest plate. The gun clattered on the ground behind them, and without looking, Wake leaped into a back handspring and kicked the pistol back into her grip. The zombie was looking at her with what she thought might be genuine awe, but she didn’t allow herself to ruminate on it. They’d been going at this for nearly an hour. She was running on fumes, and she had to finish this.

She flung herself forward, dancing around the lunge of the spear. She shot the hand that held it, then spun and kicked the steel toe of her boot into the joint of the opposite wrist. She smiled a wicked, feral grin at the sound of both weapons clattering to the floor.

She stood, breathing heavily, looking into deep brown eyes. In another life, she might have described them as warm. In this life, she shoved the barrel of one gun between them, and the other under its breast, where its heart would be.

She hesitated only for a moment, and in that moment, the zombie that she would come to know as Pyrrha Dve made a choice that would haunt her to her dying breath and beyond. She leaned forward and captured her dry, split, lonely lips in a kiss. She raised her dark, blood-stained hands and cradled her face with an alien softness.

Wake bit her. She clamped down hard on the zombie’s bottom lip until blood bloomed on her tongue, and then they broke apart, and the Emperor’s hand smiled, torn lip trickling blood down her chin. She said, “I’m sorry, destroy me as I am, but I wanted to kiss you before you killed me.”

Wake should have killed her then and there. She should have blown her head and chest apart and burned the bits of flesh and viscera that remained. Instead, she said, “Why the fuck would you want that?”

And the zombie laughed again, and again Wake didn’t take the opportunity to tear her heart out. She smiled a soft, destructive smile, and said to Wake, “I’ve only once met someone so willing to burn for what they believed in, and I loved him on sight. Commander, the first time I died, I asked of him what I ask of you now,” she pressed a calloused hand again to Wake’s face, and it was horribly warm. Those terrible dark eyes met hers, and she said, “make it quick.”

Then she kissed Wake again, and again, and again. And Wake didn’t kill her that day.

---

Wake ended up meeting Pyrrha one other time before she met the other one. This was a good thing, because if she hadn’t had the heads up she might have ripped his dick clean off. Pyrrha was bleeding from thick, deep cuts on her exposed biceps and throat, her breaths coming out as sharp, desperate wheezing. Her immortal blood seeped through Wake’s fingers same as any soldier, same as a dog bleeding out on the side of the road. Wake pressed down harshly on her throat with the butt of her pistol and hiked her knee up between the other woman’s legs.

“Hard already, Dve?” she taunted, then snorted when all Pyrrha could do was let out a low whine.

“Shit, baby,” Pyrrha said, fear creeping into her words.

Wake was no one’s baby. She leaned forward and sunk her teeth into thin cartilage, and tore off the tip of her lover’s ear with her teeth. She spat the severed flesh on the grimy, stained floor of the shuttle and looked at Pyrrha’s eyes.

No.

No, Pyrrha’s eyes were a warm, deep brown. The eyes that she was looking into now were a clear green, alarmed, confused, and still a bit horny.

Wake smiled, her lips curling, “Hello, Gideon,” she purred, jerking her knee against his half-hard cock. “How are you feeling?” and she slipped her gun into her holster and unsheathed her well-used knife. Without preamble, she thrust the blade between his ribs.

He howled out in pain, strong, calloused hands scrambling at her shoulders. But, notably, he didn’t push Wake away. Instead, between panting breaths, he said, “Who the hell are you?”

Wake leaned in close to his still-bleeding ear and whispered, “Your worst fucking nightmare.”

---

Long, long before she was born— long enough that it had long since faded into legend, a Lyctor had made contact with the Blood of Eden. Referred to only as Source Gram. She, allegedly, hailed from the Sixth House, and, even more dubiously, aided her ancestors in the beginnings of their movement. But nothing of the sort had happened since, and Lyctors had become the villains of legend. Many thought that they were immortal, and that they would be the death of them. They were something to be avoided at all cost.

But she knew she could not keep her knowledge of Pyrrha and Gideon from her people, and more than that, she didn’t want to. They could be of use to the Blood of Eden— invaluable even. And so she called her Wing Commanders together, and told them she had something important to discuss.

She told the Blood of Eden, “I have a source in the houses,” and the room went silent. Expectant gazes fell on her, and for the first time in a long time, Wake felt nervous. She tilted her chin up and hoped she could project confidence. “I believe,” she said, “that I’ve gained the trust of one of John Gaius’ hands.”

Her breathing felt impossibly loud. Then, We Suffer breathed out slowly, locked eyes with her, and said, “Tell us what you want us to do, Commander.”

After that, the next year and a half were a cascade of formed connections and formed plans. Source Joyeuse, Piotra, and Chysoar offered them tools and knowledge that her mother and sisters would not have dared dream of. They were in a better place than they’d ever been. Wake could taste the blood of the Emperor, could feel his death at her fingertips.

She was going to be the change she’d wanted to be since she was a child. She was going to avenge her mother, blown to pieces, and her sister, dead to the Nine House’s negligence.

She met with Gideon a few more times, and Pyrrha a few more than that. Each time, they fought and fucked, and sometimes they talked, but never about her plans. Gideon was infuriatingly loyal to his puppet master, and Pyrrha wasn’t supposed to exist. The knowledge of what they were planning would only burden her.

Especially when the Vat Wombs failed, and Wake set about making her bomb with her own two hands.

---

There was a certain level of domesticity that Wake had never allowed herself. She helped raise Pash, and the girl certainly looked up to her, but she wasn’t a mother. She didn’t know how to cook more than what you could boil in a pot of water with little to no additional steps. She could barely keep her own space clean half the time. And she didn’t do feelings talks. Never had, really. Hope had tried, when they were both young and stupid, because she read in some book that it was good to do so. Wake didn’t need a book to tell her that talking about that shit was important. She knew. She just didn’t do it.

Pillow talk, too, was a concept she was familiar with in theory, but something she avoided in practice. She’d fucked around with folks before Pyrrha and Gideon, and she let them assume that was still the case, though it wasn’t— she didn’t have time these days for that kind of bullshit. But even when she did have the time for it, she never stuck around for long after. She liked to think it added to her air of authority. They were done when she said they were done.

Sometimes, when it was Gideon, he would lay back after and hold his hand out, and if she had one (and she usually did), she’s shove a cigarette into his hand, and he’d smoke it and stare at the ceiling or the wall while the cuts and gauges stitched back up. He rarely said much of anything, but sometimes he would look at her for a bit too long, with a certain soft crease to his eyebrows and a barely-noticeable curl to his lip that looked alien on him, like it wasn’t an expression he had a lot of practice with.

He told her once that she had a wicked, mean smile, and she snapped back that he didn’t smile at all, so he shouldn’t talk, and he’d huffed out a curt laugh and said, “I used to. Not for a long time, though.”

And she hadn’t known how to respond to that, so she’d pinned him down, and he’d laughed, and it was a beautiful thing— one that she did not allow herself to dwell on for more than a moment, lest the sound worm its way into her cold, tired heart and find a home there. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder until she tasted blood.

On another occasion, he said, in that gruff, flat way he always spoke, “Sometimes I wish I’d known you before I knew him,” and she’d responded by telling him to take that sentiment and shove it where the light of Dominicus can’t find it. There wasn’t any worth in what ifs. If Gideon weren’t a tedious chicken-shit, it wouldn’t matter when they’d met.

Bottom line: she didn’t need, or want, his loyalty.

Pyrrha was different. It was like she’d orgasm and suddenly she had to talk, or she’d explode and take her necro with her. It usually wasn’t about much of anything. She’d lay back with her hands folded under her head and smirk and tell Wake all about what it was like, before she died the first time. She seldom talked about Gideon, and if Wake ever asked, it usually ended the conversation immediately.

But she’d talk about friends that had long since died. About Anastasia, and Cass, and Cyth, who was still alive, but who hadn’t spoken to her in a millennium. Wake, of course, knew Cyth. She’d been helping the Blood of Eden for some time, but the knowledge would bring Pyrrha no comfort.

Pyrrha would ask Wake questions, too, about her life, and the people she cared about. Once, Wake had spoken to her, briefly about Hope, and something in her voice must have given away her still-smouldering grief, because Pyrrha reached forward and rested her hand atop Wake’s. And there must have been something wrong with her, because for a few burning seconds, she allowed it. And then she said, with less anger than she’d hope to muster, “Get off my ship, Dve,” and the bastard had the nerve to pause to kiss her brow before leaving.

Wake should have killed her for that. She really should’ve.

The infuriating woman seemed to like to hear her talk about Pash in particular, even if it was just the same three things over and over. Wake never gave away much, even to her. She’d look at that shitty, grimy little photo in her toolkit and ask her questions, most of which she didn’t answer, but she never seemed to mind that.

Then, after the vat wombs had failed, and she took matters into her own hands, Pyrrha said, “I always wanted to be a parent,” in his soft, wistful voice. She was looking right at Wake, and for one mortifying moment, she thought that she knew. This shouldn’t have made bile burn up her esophagus, and it damn well shouldn’t have made her heart pound in her chest. She stared back at Pyrrha, her mouth slightly parted, and after a few long seconds, Pyrrha looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

“I think I could’ve been a good mom. Gideon always said I would, and Cass and Ana. Augustine, too, but he was always kissing up to me. He’d say the First was made of pudding if he thought it’d make me happy,” her words were sharp, but Pyrrha’s eyes always betrayed her with how repulsively soft they were. That warm, dark brown always reminded her of the hot chocolate she would get once in a while when she was small, before her mother died. She’d met the Lyctor Augustine once, and she couldn’t conceive of having anything more than passing resentment for the man.

"Any kid you raised would be a jackass with an awful sense of humor," Wake said dryly.

"Don't be a dick," but Pyrrha was still smiling.

She did not think through what she was doing when she settled back into the cot next to Pyrrha and rested her head on her bare shoulder. Her mind longed to wander. Images flashed in her periphery, of a quiet, calm life, somewhere far away with Pyrrha and Gideon and Pash and a shitty little kid. A world where the emperor was long dead and the age of Necromancy had begun to fade into memory.

But first she had to have the baby— the Bomb— and she didn’t know how happy Pyrrha would be with her after that.

It didn’t matter anyway. Even if it worked, and the Emperor was dead in a year, there would be work to do. Wake had long since accepted that she would be working until she was in the ground.

Pyrrha wrapped her big, strong arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze, and Wake pressed her face into her chest. She didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or something else firing around in her messed up head, but for a moment, Wake closed her eyes, and she allowed herself to imagine them in another life.

----

Celebrating the date of one’s birth was not something they could afford most years. She’d never had them growing up, and she turned out just fine. But the fact remained that having a birthday party was fun, and people, on occasion, liked to have fun. So they had a birthday party for Our Lady of the Passion on years where they had the means to. They had one on her fifth birthday, and her ninth, and now it was her fifteenth, and Wake was busting her ass more than she probably should to make it special, all while being nearly nine months pregnant and certifiably fucking huge. It was awful, it was uncomfortable, but she was, as Hope had once so aptly put it, more stubborn that those weird venomous cats, which were, for the uninitiated, endurance hunters, and ergo, very fucking stubborn.

We Suffer looked at her balancing a gift wrapped in crinkly brown paper and sighed audibly before lifting it out of Wake’s hands, ignoring the curse she bit out in protest.

“Have you ever considered sitting down— taking a rest?” She suggested in a soft, sing-song voice that she knew damn well Wake couldn’t stand.

“Have you ever considered shutting the fuck up?” She shot back, but there was no teeth to it.

“You’re carrying something pretty important,” We Suffer nodded to her stomach, “wouldn’t want it getting jostled too much because mom’s got too much goddamn pride.”

Wake frowned, brows furrowed. The details for her plan weren’t terribly well-known, and We Suffer wasn’t included in that circle. As far as she was aware, Wake was carrying a baby because she’d suddenly developed an affinity for them. So saying something like, I don’t really give a rat’s ass whether this thing is born healthy or on death's door, so long as it’s got blood, would be somewhat alarming. So she just grunted and didn’t complain about the help.

Pash was never good at keeping to herself, and Wake pretended to hate it more than she did. Couldn’t have the girl getting ideas in her head that she could go around doing whatever she wanted. But hell, it was her birthday, so when the little shit bumped against Wake’s side with a shit-eating grin and raised eyebrows, Wake smiled back.

“Where the fuck did you get hair dye, you little shit?” Wake said, running her fingers through freshly blue hair. The sides of her fingers came away slightly stained.

“Scavenged it,” Pash said— she still had a bit of a lisp when she tried to say s-words, but it was a far cry from where she’d been ten. Back then she’d been nigh-incomprehensible. The kid eyed her stomach dubiously, the same way she had since Wake started to show. The two of them hadn’t talked about it, and Wake didn’t intend to, unless Pash brought it up. It’d be a non-issue soon enough, anyway.

“Sooooo,” she said, bumping her shoulder to Wake’s. The kid was stupid tall, and seemed to still be growing, “what’d you get me, dear auntie?”

“I got you my goddamned presence, you little worm,” Wake said with no venom and a traitorous smile curled on her lips. She added, “and a cake, so you better be fucking grateful.”

Pash threw her hands up in surrender, “I am, I am! Shit,” she laughed, and Wake let out a snort that to her own ears was far too fucking fond. This seemed to please Pash, who mumbled something about finding Unjust Hope and took off.

Wake watched her go, and felt herself grow a bit sentimental. She could remember when that kid was small enough for her to hold in both hands. She could remember when she was nothing more than what the Bomb was now, curled inside her, unaware of the world, or the destruction they’d be born into.

Pash had asked her once, when she was eight and newly old enough to understand what had happened to her mother, if Wake hated her for killing Hope. If anyone had asked her before that moment, she might have said yes, or that at least that a part of her did. But Pash had looked at her with those big, sad hazel eyes, and she’d found that there wasn’t any hate left in her for Our Lady of the Passion.

She told her, “No, I don’t hate you. Don’t go getting a big fucking head about it, though.”

And nearly seven years later, she seemed to have gotten a big head about it anyway, by the way she felt comfortable flipping Wake off or calling her old lady. From anyone else, this would have been a deal breaker. She’d fold that fucker in half just to shove their head so far up their ass they forgot which way was up. But the most Pash ever got was some sharp words and a tired huff. So maybe it was her own fault, a little bit.

A little under an hour later, they were all sat around a garbage sheet cake with a single candle in the middle, and Pash was opening their gifts— one of which was a machete with a wicked curve. At the sight of this, Pash let out an awed gasp and raked her eyes over it was a ravenous want. She was Wake’s kid, alright.

From across the table, We Suffer cocked an eyebrow at her, and rather than dignify that with a response, she looked at Pash and said, “You should learn to use it, just in case. But the biggest thing is just getting into a minion’s head. Fuck with them. Make ‘em think you can beat them at their own game, and games they ain’t even thought of yet.”

Pash smiled a wide, toothy grin, “Do you know how to use it? Can you teach me?”

“A little,” Wake said. Sometimes, after a rendeavouz, when Pyrrha was too antsy for pillow talk but nonetheless unwilling to leave, the two of them would practice swordplay together. Pyrrha said she looked like a dog with a stick, but she was working her way up to a dog with a sword. “When I have time, alright?”

Even God didn’t know when that would be, though. The baby would come soon, and, if all went to plan, the death of the Emperor with it. The aftermath of that was impossible to calculate. Even his inner circle wasn’t sure what would happen. But Wake always found time for Pash, one way or another.

Pash set the machete on the table, and seemed about to say something, but then the familiar voice of one of her Wing Commanders, Cherry, crackled over her walkie. It said, “Duty is trailing you. Ninth house operation’s gotta move up.”

We Suffer eyed her from across the table, and as she took the words in, her gaze hardened. What she thought she had figured out, Wake couldn’t be sure. But she’d always been bright, that one. She probably had a pretty good idea.

“Fuck, kid, I gotta go,” she said, feeling genuinely sorry. But Pash was looking at her with a wicked grin and fire in her eyes.

“Go give those zombies hell. You’ll teach me how to use this thing when you get back.”

“Hold me to that,” Wake said, and then she left the base for the last time.

---

Wake stood on wobbly, uncertain, bloody legs. The Bomb was clutches to her chest, rolled a little too tightly in a blanket. On its soft, brown head a few strands of bright red hair, so much like her own, clung wetly to its skull. She refused to recognize herself within her weapon, even as it fussed and whined and cried and reached its tiny, chubby hand towards her in ask for safety, comfort, or anything else a mother might have to give.

But Wake wasn’t a mother. She was a warrior, a commander, a phoenix rising from the ashes, over and over. She put the wailing bundle into a haz suit and clacked the visor shut. Its cries continues, crackly and insistent, through the speakers.

Pyrrha was always the one that wanted to be a mother, and as she stood before her now, Wake felt as though she could read the thoughts storming through her head. She looked at Wake, who must look now like an uncaged beast, covered in her own blood, hair a wild tangle, eyes alight with adrenaline, and she looked every bit as sappy and lovelorn as she always did after they got done fighting or fucking. She said, “Wake, darling, I don’t have long. Let’s take the baby and get out of here. Please.”

“I’m not your darling,” Wake snarled, “and I’m not fucking going anywhere with you.”

Pyrrha stepped back, her eyes widening slightly, at Wake’s tone, and she felt a flush at pride at the sight of hurt contorting her features. Her eyes were always so wide and dark and expressive. She swallowed, “Gideon will be back soon. I can feel him. And he won’t let you go— you or the baby.”

At this, Wake threw her head back in a long, cruel laugh. Against her chest, the Bomb wailed, and in response Pyrrha stepped forward, hands outstretched, and Wake pulled her bundle closer with a low growl. “Fuck off. Gideon can do what the fuck he wants,” and, against her better judgement, she added, “you don’t think he’d kill a baby.”

Pyrrha’s eyes were fixed on the Bomb, like Wake didn’t exist at all, and it took a moment for her to reply, “He’d to anything for him. He’d always do anything for him. Wake, I don’t know what you think your plan is—“

“You don’t,” Wake said, “you don’t have a clue. But it doesn’t matter. I’m gonna kill the fucking emperor, and then it won’t matter who gave Gideon his marching orders. Nothing will matter.”

Pyrrha looked like she might say something more, but before she had the chance, she slumped forward, just briefly, and when she stood back up, green eyes blinked awake, and looked at her, and looked at the Bomb.

Gideon said, “What the fuck did you do?”

Wake said, “I’m going to kill your fucking boss, dipshit.”

Gideon went very still. He looked at Wake, in her ragged haz suit, and the baby, whose baby blue eyes were squinting through the harsh light of the shuttle over at him. For a moment, silence hung between them, save for the occasional fussing of the Bomb in her hands. “Say something,” Wake said.

“I don’t know what you want, Wake. I’ve never known.” Gideon looked properly sad then. The harsh lines of his face softened, and his eyebrows knit together. He looked like he might step forward, and for a precious moment in time, she lived in the world that Pyrrha had always wanted. She lived in a world with them, and maybe Pash, and no one else. Hormones going to her head and nothing more, and even if it were more than that, Gideon shattered the illusion with his next words.

“I can’t let you kill him. You know I can’t.” And he sounded so pathetic and desperate that Wake had to clamp her jaw together and look away, lest she burn apart where she stood.

“You’ve never let me do shit,” she said, laughing bitterly. She turned a knob on the side of her helmet, and the plex slipped down. Her voice came out crackled through the headset. “See you when we’ve won,” she said, and turned to open the airlock, to descend to the planet, and to light that motherfucker up.

Then a fist slammed against her back. She felt a rib break as she tumbled forward into open space. She turned around and briefly saw Gideon’s pained, horrible face, and for a split second, she swore she saw a flash of brown in his eyes. But she was losing air quickly, and she had to lose it quicker, if she wanted the Bomb to make it to its destination.

She wasn’t going to get back home, she wasn’t going to a half-flipped moon, she wasn’t going to see the demise of the Emperor of the Nine Houses. She wasn’t going to get to teach Pash how to use those damn machetes.

“Fuck you!” she snarled, and she directed her life preserves to the Bomb.

As they fell, and life drained slowly and agonizingly from her body, Wake shrieked, “Gideon! Gideon! Gideon!”

And she burned, and she burned, and she burned.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Seeing all your cool home updates && half-watching some HGTV w/my mom while drawing had a simple prompt idea if you might be interested! Basically HGTV reno show Jonsa - Sansa is a designer and finally gets a chance for her own show but loses Rob (her #1 contractor) to an injury before filming starts && Jon jumps in (either to help Rob /or/ the studio execs (maybe Targs?) throw him in) and the two have to work together somehow. Idk idk, just wanted to share! <3

ANON.

No, you have no idea, I already HAVE a house reno wip. It's not super long, but... yeah. I've got that.

Here, I'll post what I have written of it, since we CAN'T GET ONTO AO3.

this isn't exactly your prompt, though I do honestly love yours a lot and sort of want to change mine. If I changed mine, the show Sansa works on would definitely be like Rehab Addict, where she restores old homes to their prior state instead of making them "modern"

But mine is sort of similar? This snippet is just the set up and doesn't include the part where Sansa decides to start a youtube channel for her renovations, (a la WabiSabE, which I used to watch and was probably the inspiration for this fic when I first started writing it like a year ago lol), and everyone starts shipping her with her contractor Jon, who she keeps forcing to be in the videos because she can't really make them without him being in it...

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Sansa winces as her car hits another bump and jolts her in her seat.

“You owe me,” she huffs out, hands tight around the wheel.

“I know, I know,” Robb's voice comes through her sound system and fills the car. He's distracted, she can tell, and she bites back a snippy comment. Robb's just so busy, he couldn't possibly get away.

That's not fair, the small part of her brain that's still being rational thinks. Of course Robb couldn't drop everything and come out to the middle of nowhere to deal with their Great Uncle Brynden's estate. Robb's got a new baby and his job.

Robb's got a baby, Arya's got her tournaments, Bran has school, and Rickon's still underage. All of her siblings have lives they can't get away from. All except her.

No significant other, no kids. A tenuous career that she can technically do from anywhere.

“Oh no,” she breathes, when the house finally comes into sight through the trees.

“What's wrong?” Robb asks, his full attention back on her.

“Robb,” she whines, the car coming to a pathetic, rolling stop on the overgrown gravel drive. “It's a mess.”

“A mess?”

She doesn't answer, too busy staring at the mansion in front of her. Or, what used to be a mansion, she thinks.

It's still vaguely house-shaped, but... The roof is missing shingles in multiple places, the windows all seem busted out. The steps up to the covered front porch are fine, but the porch itself has a massive sinkhole, and half the wood looks rotted and ready to crumble.

Gods, if this is what the outside looks like...

“What kind of a mess?” Robb asks. She's just about to start listing the many problems when she hears another car approaching.

“I've gotta go,” she tells Robb. “I think the lawyer's here.” She hangs up before Robb can answer, and watches the other car slowly emerge through the trees up the bumpy road, past the broken gates, and onto the circular gravel drive. It stops behind her and a man gets out. She gets out, too, phone clutched in her hand, just in case.

“Miss Stark?” the man asks, and his face splits into a kind smile when she nods. “Perfect, perfect. I'm Samwell Tarly. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Sansa moves forward to shake the lawyer's hand. He isn't what she was expecting. He's young, for one – maybe only a few years older than her. And he seems just as nice in person as he'd been over the phone. She didn't think lawyers came in nice.

“We should have met at your office,” she says, eyeing up the weeds sprouting from between the gravel and brushing against her ankles. “I didn't realize the road here would be so...”

Mr. Tarly laughs. “This place has been abandoned for quite some time,” he agrees. “I never met Brynden myself, but I’d heard about him. Apparently he decided to up and travel the world and left this…”

Sansa looks back at the crumbling mansion and feels her face scrunch up. She tries to smooth it out. “So, how fast do you think I can sell this?” she asks.

That’s when Mr. Tarly’s smile falters. “Well,” he starts, hesitant, “you see, it’s in such a poor state, I can’t imagine anyone would be willing to buy it.”

“But the land must be worth something? They can just knock it down and-”

“Ah,” Mr. Tarly winces, and Sansa’s sentence breaks off, unfinished. “I suppose you didn’t read all the fine print?” At the slow shake of her head, he grimaces. “Riverrun Manor is a historic property. You, legally, are not allowed to tear the structure down. Anything you do needs to go through lots of committee approvals…”

“So what you’re saying,” Sansa says, closing her eyes as reality crashes down around her, “is that literally no one is going to want to buy this.”

“Maybe if you find someone who’s both very rich, and very interested in Riverlands history?”

She opens her eyes and there must be a glare on her face, because Mr. Tarly winces again.

Then she turns back to the manor, and really looks at it this time. Beneath the grime and the moss and the crumbling wood, she can see what it used to be.

“What if I fixed it up a bit?” she asks, turning back to the lawyer. “What if I just did the major repairs, do you think someone would buy it then?”

She doesn’t want to do that, but it beats letting the property sit around even longer and paying the taxes on it. Or, worse, not paying the taxes and having that on her and her sibling’s financial records.

“I’m not a real estate agent,” Mr. Tarly responds, looking at the building thoughtfully. “But this is a good location, lots of historic stuff around. I wouldn’t doubt you could sell it if the building weren’t… well, that.” He waves his hand towards the manor.

“Alright,” she nods. “Maybe we should head to your office to do the paperwork, though? Then I’ll… I guess I’ll look for a contractor?”

Sam nods, and a bright smile lights his face again. “Oh, I know someone you can call!”