#and then all of it to be discarded in the way it did just to make room for more boring stuff and have all mystery be just ..that too

[joemama-2]

it’s late at night. he’s already situated on the bed, seeing you come into the room with unkempt hair, you shirt has splotches of dried milk and your movements are slow. tired.

why wouldn’t you be?

an energetic three year old who’s just like his father is hard to maintain. though you wouldn’t trade it for the world. “come here, baby.” he pats his lap, grinning softly.

you look over from where you’re taking off your jewelry for the day, in attempt to get ready for your nightly shower. “hm? for what?”

his eyes follow your every movement, patting his lap once more. “you know exactly why. cmon, daddy needs some stress relief.”

the laugh you let out causes his face to soften, admiring you in a way that’s reserved solely for his wife, for the mother of his son. “i thought we agreed you couldn’t call yourself that anymore.”

he adjusts himself when he sees you come over, crawling on the bed to situate yourself in a straddling position over his hips. his hands fall into place on the curve of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on the small patch of skin that shows when your shirt lifts up. “you did. i didn’t.”

“it’s cringey.”

“so?”

you huff, eyes rolling. he dips his head forward into the crook of your neck, planting a trail of warm kisses. “satoru, are you sure?”

“are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by your skin. “i just want to pamper my wife after a long day, can’t i do that?”

“i feel hideous right now.”

he tips his head back, bright eyes staring back at you with an intensity you’ve come to associate with. the kind of intensity that lets you know whatever he says—he means it. “hideous? what did i say before, huh? i said don’t even think about saying stupid stuff like that again. and look at you now.”

your lips downturn. “don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

“i’m not,” he places a firm kiss to your lips. “you look beautiful every day, every second of the day. but you look especially gorgeous right now.”

you narrow your eyes at him, skeptical. “why right now?”

satoru’s lips quirk into a sly grin, his thumbs still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. "because right now, I see my whole world in front of me. the woman who gave me everything I could ever want—a family, a home, a reason to come back every single day.”

the weight of his words presses against the exhaustion hanging over you. it’s not just flattery. it’s raw and genuine, just like him, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. “you’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“and you’re so heavenly,” his grin widens, leaning in closer until your noses almost touch. “but you love my cheesiness, don’t you? admit it.”

your lips twitch, a small smile breaking through despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. “maybe I do.”

“there it is,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if he’s handling something fragile. “that smile’s all I need to get through anything.”

the words wrap around your tired soul like a warm blanket. and for a moment, the weight of the day fades, replaced by the solid, steady presence of him—your husband, your partner, the man who never fails to make you feel like the most important person in the world.

you sigh, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong.” his voice is firm, his hands steady as they pull you just a little closer, subtly rubbing you against his clothed cock. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

and in that quiet, intimate moment, with the world outside fading into irrelevance, you believe him.

"now let me pamper you like I promised." he switches positions, hovering above you as you lay on your back. leaning down to raise the hem of your shirt, trailing sweet kisses and licks against your stomach—heading further south. your hips raise slightly as he discards your lounge pants, breath hitching in anticipation. hand running down through the streaks of his white hair, he smiles at the sight of your pussy hidden behind the grandma underwear you adorn.

hot breath tickling your core that leaves you almost jerking upwards for more. he kisses your clit through the loose fabric. “besides, mommy needs her fix too, doesn’t she?”

[vanillarosekiss]

♡ p!link ♡

i'm slowly making my way through each link on the list! sorry this is quite shit though. maybe i'll rewrite it, maybe i won't.

warnings: taboo, stepdad!Price x reader, subtle breeding kink, use of daddy ONCE i just had to sorry not sorry, uhhh that's about it (it most probably is not)

Pretty little girl. That's what John thought of you. Was it weird that he was your stepdad? Maybe. Not to him, though. It wasn't like you were related at all, just unfortunate circumstances. Anyway, that wouldn't have stopped him from dreaming about fucking you senseless in your bedroom. And God, did he dream about that almost every night. So imagine his surprise when you decided to prance around the house one evening in the skimpiest little thing he'd ever seen you in; pink lace and silk painting your little figure in a heavenly glow.

He thought you were teasing him at this point, mocking his inability to obtain what he wanted from you.

You were, but you wanted to see how far he'd actually go. So obviously, you went and cleaned the entire house, making sure to spend most of the time on your hands and knees, back facing him so he could get a nice view. Questionable poses for what chores you were doing, unnecessary really, is what he thought. But then again, he wasn't complaining at all.

After a half hour of your teasing, you were flat on your stomach on your bed, lacy babydoll discarded and tiny pink panties pulled to the side as he pounded you mercilessly. Of course, John being considerate of the fact you had neighbours and how controversial it may be for them to find out he was fucking his baby girl (even worse that she was enjoying it) decided to muffle your moans with his large hand. With each thrust you were jolted forward, his cock stretching you out to the point of no return. You'd never felt this full before.

He could tell you were getting restless at once point, when you wouldn't stop squirming against his grip. To this, he just fucked you harder than he already was, grunting from the sheer force his cock was assaulting your hole with.

"Taking me s'well angel." he praised you, trying to calm your convoultions.

You whined into his hand, begging for a release that felt like it would never come.

"S'alright pretty, you can take it. Know you can. Wanted to tease daddy all day, yeah? You wanted this. Fuck, I mean you were practically askin' for it sweeth'art." he let out a short laugh before fastening his pace and eventually letting you cum, feeling your walls tighten around him.

He didn't stop there, though. He slowed down but kept thrusting for a few minutes, before lifting you like you weighed nothing, and laying on his back so that you were riding him.

His hands grabbed onto the fat of your hips, forcing you to grind down onto him, your back arching as you moaned softly.

"C'mon baby, gonna ride me like a good little girl, yeah?"

Tag list: @punkkture @soapisgod @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @poohkie90 @lovidovii @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling

[miss-dollette]

Person Of Interest - Chapter 1. Muse.

Warning: Stalking. Really fucked up opinions on the less fortunate. Remember, this is the salesman we’re talking about.

(A/N): I wrote this over the course of a few days. I haven’t written anything this long in some time, so let me know if I got anything wrong. Also, I’m not Korean and have never visited Korea, so I’m not familiar with Korean culture. Please be easy on me - I don’t even listen to K-Pop and this is my like, second Korean show I’ve watched 😭. Okay, it’s two in the morning and my eyes hurt. Enjoy :)

The little waif appeared at the train station again, as she did every day of the week except Sunday.

He knew that because he had developed a routine of his own-one where he ensured he’d catch a glimpse of her. She was a slight thing, all knobby knees and elbows, with a rounder face that still clung stubbornly to remnants of baby fat. It gave her an air of innocence that would likely never fade into maturity.

Twenty-two years old. A dropout from a prestigious university - why, he didn’t know. She lived with a roommate in a tacky apartment building and was unemployed. Instead, she earned her money playing her violin in the busier sections of the city.

A talented little thing. No matter the weather, her thin but strong fingers coaxed melodies from her instrument, drawing the attention of passersby. The locals knew her well, and they must have appreciated the way her music lured customers to their shops and stands.

The first time he saw her, she was on a concrete platform, playing one of his favorite songs. His hand had stung, his shoulder ached - a long day of recruiting Nothings - but the sound had stopped him in his tracks.

Passersby dropped won into the worn Breton cap she’d laid out in front of her, and each time, she flashed a brief, grateful smile before resuming her tune.

His breath hitched in his chest, his fingers slackening around the handle of his suitcase full of won and two dirty ddakji papers. Even dressed in an oversized coat with patched-up hemlines, she caught his attention in a way that left him stunned.

An elderly man shuffled past her, dropping a few won into her cap before bowing deeply. She paused just long enough to bow back, even lower than he had, before continuing to play.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, lingering spectators began to drift away, heading toward the station to catch their trains. Salarymen and women filed out of their offices, and nearby shops started to close for the night.

When the last stragglers were gone, she stepped down from the platform and retrieved her cap. One by one, she smoothed out the crumpled bills with delicate precision, as though each note were a treasure.

An elderly woman from a nearby food stall approached her, carrying a steaming skewer of dakkochi. Though the girl began counting her bills, ready to pay, the woman shook her head, pressing the food into her hands.

She hesitated, staring at the meat with wide, hungry eyes, before accepting it and bowing low in gratitude.

He watched as she took the first bite, her eyes fluttering shut as though she were savoring the warmth, the taste, the comfort of it. She chewed slowly, and though he couldn’t hear it, he could almost imagine the hum of satisfaction she must have let slip.

It was ridiculous. Fascination with someone so ordinary.

And yet, he couldn’t look away.

How could it be that this crumpled-up, discarded girl had managed to fascinate him so completely?

If he had seen her on any other day, he would have caught her alone, offered her a game of Ddakji, and slapped her cheeks until their softness gave way to mottled bruises. Those babyish cheeks of hers, stained with tears—he could picture it so vividly. Female recruits usually cried by the third slap, but they never stopped playing. The glimmer of hope, of winning back their dignity or even just a few won, kept them in the game.

They were all the same. Male or female. Persistent, pathetic pieces of garbage. That’s what they all had in common.

When she finished her food, she stuffed the crumpled won into a sash tied around her waist, her movements quick yet deliberate. Then she turned her attention to her violin, lifting it with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. She placed the chipped instrument into its worn case so gently that anyone watching might have thought she was laying an infant into its crib.

It was laughable, really.

And yet, he kept watching.

When she stood, she practically skipped toward the train station. Light, careless steps, as though the weight of the world hadn’t settled on her shoulders like it had on everyone else’s. He watched her descend the stairs, each movement unguarded, as though she had nothing to fear.

His fingers tightened around the handle of his suitcase, and his eyes flicked to his watch. The seconds ticked away steadily, a reminder that if he wanted to catch the last train home, he’d need to hurry.

But as he stood there, staring at the spot where she’d disappeared, he felt himself torn.

Head home... or follow her?

The decision hovered in the air, tantalizing and heavy, as the seconds marched on.

He realized that if he didn’t follow her, she’d haunt his thoughts all night. The sound of her tunes, the gleam in her eyes—it would all linger, nagging at him. And what if he never saw the little waif again?

The thought was unbearable.

He took a step toward the station, then another, and another, until he found himself at the platform, watching as she disappeared through the train’s doors.

“Pardon me,” he murmured, brushing past another passenger in his haste.

The man turned sharply, venom already rising to his face - until his gaze fell on him. The glare faltered, melting into something more subdued. Respectful.

It was remarkable, really, how quickly people changed their tune when they caught sight of his tailored coat and polished shoes. They didn’t need to know him, his past, or his purpose. The price tag of his appearance was enough to earn their deference.

How pitiful, he thought, as he adjusted his grip on his suitcase. Once, he’d been nothing - just like them. But now?

Now, he was above them all.

She sat in the distance, wedged between a mother with a toddler clinging to her thighs and a weary salaryman fighting to keep his eyes open. Her violin case rested on her lap, cradled against her chest as though it were something precious, something alive.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, careful not to let his gaze linger too long. If she caught him staring, she’d realize far too soon that she had an observer - and that wouldn’t do. Not that he had any plans of revealing himself.

Fortunately, he was practiced in the art of pursuit. Years of experience had honed his craft, though his targets were typically for a very different purpose.

The train jolted forward, and he swayed slightly, using the motion to adjust his stance, keeping her just within his peripheral vision. She was so unassuming, so small in this world of hurried professionals and exhausted parents. Yet, there was something magnetic about her.

Her oversized coat hung awkwardly off her frame, the patched hemlines almost brushing her knees. It was too large, almost comical, but she wore it without a hint of self-consciousness. Perhaps she didn’t care how it looked, or perhaps she was simply used to making do. The thought both irritated and fascinated him.

He shifted his grip on his suitcase, the leather pressing against his calluses. Would she even be worth it? She wasn’t like the others he had approached. There was a quiet resolve in her, something different. She didn’t wear her desperation as plainly as the others, yet he knew it was there - lurking beneath the surface.

Wasn’t it always?

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. Everyone had their breaking point. The game just revealed it sooner.

She glanced up briefly, her eyes scanning the train, and his heart seized for a moment. Had she noticed him? No - her gaze swept right past him, uninterested and unseeing. He let out a slow, controlled breath, reminding himself that he was a master at this. Years of practice had taught him how to melt into the background, to become just another face in the crowd.

But watching her, he felt something unusual - a spark of impatience. Normally, he could bide his time, savoring the slow unraveling of his prey’s composure. But with her, the anticipation was different. Her every movement - so small, so deliberate - pulled at something in him, though he couldn’t quite name what.

The train rattled through another stop, and a few passengers shuffled off. She remained in her seat, her hands absently brushing over the scratched surface of her violin case. Did she know how fragile she looked in that moment? The way her fingers lingered on the case, as though drawing strength from it, made his chest tighten in a way that annoyed him.

Perhaps that was it - the illusion of fragility. People like her always looked so easy to break, so willing to bend under pressure. But they never went quietly. No, they always had a streak of stubbornness, a refusal to yield that made the process all the more satisfying.

He swallowed, his mind flickering between possibilities. If he approached her now, how would she react? Would she freeze, caught off guard by someone acknowledging her for any other reason besides her violin? Or would she look at him with suspicion, sensing something amiss?

The train slowed, and the voice over the intercom announced the next station. His pulse quickened. She adjusted her grip on her case, her body shifting as she got ready to stand.

He waited until the distance between them widened before stepping off the train. The crowd of passengers spilling onto the platform was his cover, their hurried steps and muted chatter blending him seamlessly into the flow of bodies. Not that she would suspect anyone was following her. Who would?

Once outside the station, she weaved her way past the gleaming high-rises and into narrower, dimly lit streets. The transition was stark - the polished facade of the city gave way to crumbling walls, cracked sidewalks, and flickering streetlights. It made sense for her to live in this part of town. He never imagined she could afford anything more secure.

She paused in front of a small brick building, its exterior worn and unremarkable, much like her. He hung back, watching as she disappeared through the front doors. His pulse steadied, and he exhaled slowly. Following her inside would be foolish - far too risky. A smaller building like this meant she likely knew her neighbors, and a stranger’s presence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Still, his lips curved into a faint smile. The journey might have ended here, but now he knew where she lived. A detail worth savoring.

Just as he turned to retrace his steps to the station, a light flickered on in one of the windows. His head snapped up, and his gaze locked onto it. A shadow moved against the thin curtain, a familiar silhouette. Her slight frame was unmistakable, and so was that oversized Breton cap perched awkwardly on her head.

Yes, it was her.

For a moment, he stood frozen, watching her shadow shift. She set something down - likely the violin case she had cradled so protectively on the train. He could almost picture her now, brushing the dust off her coat, pulling her hair free from under the cap, perhaps exhaling with relief to finally be home.

His grip on his suitcase tightened.

“I should leave now,” he thought. Lingering too long would be reckless, but something about that glowing window and her faint outline held him captive. It was a glimpse into her world - simple, predictable, fragile. A world so easy to disrupt.

Finally, he turned away, but his steps were slow, reluctant. He had what he came for, but the thought of her shadow, the dim light framing her every movement, stayed with him.

Time to say Goodbye.

[vampirejuno]

Remember that discworld dream I had the other day? Well, lads.... I wrote it. At the encouragement of @catstrophysics, @lilenariinpink and @theygotlost, I present to you...

Something Fishy

His Grace, His Excellency, Sir Samuel Vimes the Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor, sighed emphatically and tried to shoulder his way through the throng. Sator Square was packed with people. Never before in his life, he reflected, had he ever seen such a crowd turn up at six in the bloody morning to watch what was, essentially, a man tossing a dead fish onto the ground. Is this what passes for entertainment these days? he thought bitterly. We used to be a great city when it came to entertainment. After some further consideration of past greatness, he stopped, shook his head, and silently offered praise to whatever god was responsible for making sure it stayed in the past.

It had been a little over a month since the Fish Craze, and already Vimes wished he could permanently ban the import of all seafood into the city. Nobody remembered what had started it, but the fad had spread faster than wildfire, with no fashion-brigade to stop the madness. Everyone had taken it up. Even perfectly reasonable people, the kind that sneered at their grannies for fretting over a broken mirror, would, in all sincerity, say things like, “Thank goodness for another Right Day, I could use the luck”, or, more frequently, “No wonder it all went tits up, it was a Left Day”.

Vimes failed to see the appeal. The whole process consisted of taking a fish (preferably a sardine, though most made do with herring or, in desperate times, even anchovies), tossing it in the air, and checking which side up it landed. At first, everyone did it individually. This had led to much disagreement and, eventually, an event that would go down in history as “Most Organic Weapons Riot”. The watchmen who’d been on duty that night were given two days off to try and wash the smell out of their uniforms.

The following day, the Patrician had announced the instatement of an Official Fish Thrower, which soon turned into “the Offishal Tosser”, or simply “the Tosser”, and whose entire job it was to go into Sator Square every morning, toss a sardine for the city, and announce to the enraptured masses what sort of day they were going to have. It was rumored that the Tosser was a retired magician who had specialized in sleight of hand, and that he ensured the fish always landed precisely according to the Patrician’s specifications. Knowing Vetinari, Vimes thought, the man probably has a spreadsheet planned out for a month in advance.

His musings were interrupted by a current of movement in the crowd, which parted hastily to reveal a figure with a tray.

“Right Fish! Get your Right Fish! Guaranteed Day goes Right! Turn your day ‘round with just one toss!”

Vimes sighed. Only one man would try to sell you fish at the Offishal Tossing.

“Morning, Throat,” he said distantly. There was a commotion at the front of the crowd as people tried to dislodge someone from the Tosser’s podium. It looked like an Omnian preacher had taken advantage of the audience to spread the good word to the unenlightened masses, whether they liked it or not.

“A good morning to you, Commander! Can I interest you in some nice sardines? Three for tuppence, and that’s cutting my own throat!”

Vimes risked a glance at the tray as Ankh-Morpork’s least successful merchant approached him in a hopeful sidle. It was laden with row upon row of little strangely misshapen fish. Picking one up and turning it over in his fingers, Vimes saw the reason for this. Someone had taken some pains to cut them in two lengthwise, discarded all the left halves, and rejoined the things by gluing two right halves together with some mysterious sticky substance. He put it back down and inconspicuously wiped his hand on his trousers. Like many of Dibbler’s products, it was precisely what you paid for.

“Sardine? Seems more like smelt to me.”

“Yes, very fragrant, indeed,” said the merchant without missing a beat. “Perhaps some fish’n’chips, then, Commander? Only ten pence for our brave lads in the Watch!”

I don’t think I’m that brave, Vimes thought. Aloud, he said, “Is that where the left halves go, then?”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. Ah, hello, miss, you look like you could do with a nice nourishing breakfast! Some delicious fish’n’chips to start the day off right, how about it?”

The crowd was so packed now – hah, like sardines in a can – that Vimes gave up all hopes of pushing through it. Most of these people had turned up early to get a good spot and were now whiling the minutes away until the much-awaited Tossing. There was a conversation taking place just behind him, where an argument of Morporkians was standing around, doing what it did best. The current object of ire appeared to be a young man’s drawling voice, which was questioning Tradition.

“-don’t see why we couldn’t put a new spin on it. This is…too restrictive, like.”

“How’s that, then?”

“It’s just awfully specific, is all I’m saying.”

“What are you babbling about, Harold?” responded a higher, slightly irritated voice that instantly filed itself away as “unhappy wife” in Vimes’s copper brain.

“I mean, why’s it got to be a sardine? Why not a, uh,” the young man cast around for seafood-related ideas, “a crab, or something?”

“Come now, that’d never work,” a stout little man next to him laughed good-naturedly. He was smoking a pipe and had the look of someone who used words like “indubitably” and “perfunctory” despite only having a very approximate idea of what they meant. “Crabs are not remotely suitable for the task.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Well-known fact,” nodded the crustacean connoisseur. “Divination is congenitally tied to the noble art of fishing, you know. It’s called forecasting, after all.”

There were more nods and approving laughs. The man puffed on his pipe with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with the pun. Vimes managed not to punch him.

“Y’know, that sounds about right. Never ‘eard of someone telling the future with a crab,” an old woman nodded wisely. “You never know where you are with crabs. Now, fish, that’s reliable.”

The group pondered this.

“Look at it this way. We’ve had, what, twenty-three Left Days so far – not counting Floppy Friday* – and every single time, somethin’ bad happened.”

The others murmured their agreement. There were several thoughtful comments recounting various misfortunes that the participants had suffered on past Left Days. Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is Ankh-Morpork, something bad is always happening.”

“Right, that’s what I’m saying,” nodded the young man, who hadn’t been saying that. “Besides, plenty of perfectly good fortune tellers in the city. A man tossing a sardine on the cobbles is not a valid method of divination, in my humble opinion.”

“Harold, you are embarrassing me.”

“Oh, come off it, Mathilda, you got by just fine without any of this business for thirty years of your life. Now it’s all Sardines this, Herring that, Why don’t we get an ornamental trout lake-”

At that moment, the Offishal Tosser stepped onto his little podium, and the couple was shushed into outraged silence. 

* * *

“Come on, before ol’ Stoneface gets here. You know he doesn’t approve of this sort of thing.”

The Pseudopolis Yard watch house was buzzing with excitement uncharacteristic for six in the morning on a Wednesday. Most of the night shift had signed off and the day guard were trickling one by one into the main room. An ever-growing group was clustered in a vague circle, in the center of which Corporal Nobbs could just be made out (if that was your idea of a good time). The men all had the vague air of middle school students asking their teacher about his dog in order to delay math class by another five minutes.

“Might that have anything to do with the fact that, last time, it took three hours and a bucket of armour polish to get the smell out of the floorboards?” Angua smiled. It was a very friendly smile.

“Right, sarge, but… We-ell, you’re…”

“Yes?” The smile widened.

Constable Fernsby shifted uncomfortably. There were a few sniggers. It was true that werewolves had considerably sharper senses than humans and would therefore be able to smell a fish long after it had departed the material plane, but, the sniggers seemed to indicate from a safe distance, you didn’t go around pointing this out to them. Fortunately for the boy, he was saved from any further smiles by a very timely interruption in the form of the Captain.

“Good morning! Everyone had a nice rest, I hope? Ready for another day of work?”

Carrot strutted in, wearing his usual genuine smile and gleaming armor. There was a not-so-subtle change in the atmosphere; a sudden nonchalantness enveloped the room. All around him, the squad commenced their very best impression of the Walls And Ceiling Inspection Division. One or two of the simpler lads even clasped their hands behind their backs and started to whistle**. Carrot sighed.

“Alright, what did you do?... And don’t look at me like that, I can see something smells fishy here.”

This was greeted with one or two coughs and a sudden interest in last night’s heaps of paperwork. Only Lance-Constable Whippet, who had joined three days ago and was, therefore, not yet acquainted with the minutiae of his commanding officers’ tempers, and sergeant Detritus, who could be a little slow on the uptake, met the captain’s inquisitive gaze. Finally, he looked to Angua for help. She shrugged meaningfully.

“Well… er,” said Sergeant Colon, who felt obliged to make some sort of contribution on behalf of his insubordinates, “we was just…engaging in some…cultural activities, captain. To boost morale for the day, like. Er.”

Carrot sniffed at the air – never a very good idea in a watch house, where, at any given point in time, half the men had just returned from patrolling and the other half were emerging from the locker room – and understanding began to dawn.

“Ah, I see. And I expect, Sergeant, that such…team-building activities are best carried out without the involvement or presence of, say, senior officers?”

“Could be, sir. I’m sure you’d know best, sir.” Colon’s big round face was a picture of cherubic innocence.

“Well, in that case, I believe Sergeant Angua and I have a case to attend to. Corporal Thighbiter up at Dolly Sisters needed some help with that Money Trap Lane break-in...”

“Actually, he just sent word the other day – it turned out Mister Mason had got drunk and lost his key again and crashed through the oomph-” Constable Ping bent over slightly from several democratic elbows in the ribs. With a true officer’s tact, Carrot feigned temporary deafness. He held the door for Angua, who detached herself from the wall with one last pleasant smile that could’ve cut steel, and the two stepped out briskly into the safety of fresh air***.

After they had gone, the squad waited a few moments and then turned back to the center of the room, where someone had dragged a mysteriously stained stool from the canteen when the kitchen lady wasn’t looking. Corporal Nobbs was shuffled towards it with extreme care.

The little man**** dusted himself off and scrambled onto the rickety stool. As the other watchmen leaned in closer, he reached into the unspeakable depths of his inner pockets and, with a certain air of ceremony, produced…

“A sardine!”

“Cor, is that real?”

“Dat a very small fish.”

“Where did you get it, corp?”

Nobby basked in the approving murmurs of his colleagues. It had, indeed, been a challenge to find – sardines were very rare these days, outside of the occasional coveted freak shower – but he was nothing if not resourceful.

“We-ell, it weren’t easy, that’s true,” he rolled a dog-end from one corner of the mouth to the other, savoring the moment. He rarely commanded so much attention without attracting a variety of insults and the occasional ballistic eel. “Pays to know the right people, o’course. I have connections, me. Contacts. Ties, even.”

“Aye, but that floral one you nicked last week really don’t suit you very well.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Stronginthearm. All your accessories are made of chainmail! Everyone knows jewel tones are for winter, anyway.”

Colon raised a placating hand. “All right, all right, lads, no need to get all up in arms just ‘cos some folks are a little…stylistically challenged.”

“Thanks, sarge.”

“I meant you, Nobby.”

The corporal threw up his arms. “I go to all this trouble,” he wailed, “I talk to people, I find a contraband seafood shipment from Klatch, I explain matters to the fishmonger – on my day off, too, might I add – I procure a real, genuine, only-slightly-nibbled actual sardine, and this is the thanks I get?”

The watchmen watched, transfixed, as he flourished the fabled fish in their faces. It had, indeed, already been chewed on; the tail was sticking out rigidly and the whole thing smelled as if it was a few weeks beyond consumption, but it was a sardine nonetheless. Most of the lads, coming from humble (and sometimes humbling) backgrounds, felt slightly awed at the idea of Tossing a fish that these days was available only to the very richest observers of the fad. It was, they felt, unbecoming to wave it around like a paper flag at a parade. The damn things tended to be slippery. Probably would be bad luck, they figured, if it was flung down by accident; who knew what sort of fortune that would foretell?

“Where’s the appreciation, I ask you?” Nobby continued in woeful tones. “Every time I’ve Tossed a fish for you lot, it’s landed Right! Now, how many of you can say that, eh?”

The watchmen exchanged doubtful glances.

“Er… Well, you never let anyone else do it, corp,” Ping reasoned. “You just nicks the fish and eats it afterwards.”

“Oh, now, that does it! I won’t stand here and be slandered at!”

“Woah there, Nobby, watch that sardine-”

“If you’re gonna be like that, then I’m not doing it. And good luck finding someone who’ll do it as well as me!”

“Careful with that-”

“And I’m taking the sardine.”

“-not the tail-”

 “You can beg, but I won’t change my mind, and that’s that!” Nobby flung out his hand in a grandiose gesture. Unfortunately, it was the wrong hand.

Time slowed to a crawl. Every head in the room swiveled as one, following the trajectory of the airborne fish. It sailed head first towards the front door, which was creaking, doorknob turning, and slowly, slowly opening…

* * *

The Offishal Tosser tossed the fish, which landed damply. There was a satisfying splat. The crowd held its breath as the first few rows near the podium craned to see.

“Today is the fourth of April in the year of the Significant Woodlouse, and it is a… Left Wednesday!” the man proclaimed.

A disappointed groan spread through the crowd. Slowly, people started dispersing with occasional complaints, casting sour looks at the offending fish. Here and there, members of the Gamblers’ Guild were exchanging coins.

Vimes shook his head again as the grumbling current carried him through the square, into the Plaza of Broken Moons, and out to the Patrician’s palace. At last he disengaged himself from the throng and elbowed his way towards the Brass Bridge. It wasn’t far to the watch house from here, but he still picked up the pace. Despite not having official working hours, Vimes liked to get there early in the morning, just as the day shift was coming in, to get a headstart on ignoring his paperwork.

As he walked, his copper mind took over and he mentally leafed through the agenda of the day. Let’s see, what was there… He had that audience with Vetinari at eleven, probably concerning last night’s diplomatic dinner – not that it was Vimes’s fault that he saw the unlicensed thief and that the Klatchian ambassador happened to be standing there, and anyway who drinks red wine while wearing a white robe… Then the interview with the Times at noon… Then briefing the lads on the unsolved contraband seafood case… Then he’d have to do something about the river division, they can’t just keep sinking the damn boat, this is getting ridiculous…

A distant glint caught Vimes’ eye as he stepped off the bridge. Carrot’s shiny breastplate could be seen from a mile away on a clear day, and the captain was, indeed, proceeding along the river with Angua in tow. 

What the hell are they doing out? They’re not on patrol today…

Briefly, he considered catching up to them, but then dismissed the idea. They were only a couple streets away from the watch house, and Carrot seemed relaxed enough, stopping to chat with every other passer-by in his usual manner. No emergency, then. On the other hand, they had a batch of new recruits at the main office, the gods alone knew what those yahoos would be getting up to without a senior officer present. And under Colon’s command…

A few minutes later, Vimes was rounding the corner of Lower Broadway and trotting up the steps of Pseudopolis Yard. There seemed to be quite a commotion going on inside; he’d heard the shouting from half a block away. With his hand on the doorknob, mentally preparing his best Not Yelling Voice, he pushed the door open…

…and very briefly saw something shiny flying full speed at his head. Before he could react, the thing clanked off his helmet, bounced on a nearby desk and, finally, lodged itself between the floorboards with a sproinnnng.

Silence fell like a gavel. A dozen horrified watchmen gaped at their Commander, the life quickly draining out of their eyes*****. Sergeant Colon’s face, pale as the moon and just as round, tried unsuccessfully to hide behind his high collar.

Wordlessly, Vimes approached the thing stuck between the floorboards. He crouched down. He examined it. He gave it a tentative flick. It made a noise not unlike a ruler twanging off the side of a table, or a very thin sheet of metal being shaken vigorously. After a moment’s contemplation, he felt moved to speak.

“Well, lads, I don’t think Left and Right suffices anymore. Seems we ought to add a third Day to the list.”

Ahhh. Relief rose off the squad like morning mist. Their laughter had the strained quality that came with trying very hard to pretend that whatever was happening was entirely intentional. At this point, they’d have laughed at anything, as long as it meant Ol’ Stoneface was Not Yelling At Them. Whatever they may think to themselves, the one motivation that all coppers in all the worlds have in common is to Not Get Yelled At.

“Bottom Day, sir?” someone suggested. There was another bout of slightly forceful sniggers.

“Er… Perhaps not.” Vimes gave the fish a few fruitless tugs and gave up. “Alright, someone get this damn thing out of there and, uh…”

“Throw it away, sir?”

“No, good gods, you could hurt someone… Look, just get rid of the…fish and we’ll say no more about it. Fred, a word upstairs?”

With the watch house returning slowly to its normal daily bustle, Vimes went up to his office and sat down wearily at his desk, which was hidden underneath an impressive pile of paper. He’d signed a few dozen forms and…dealt with half a fireplace’s worth of complaint letters last night, but the stacks looked suspiciously bigger this morning. They entirely refused to melt away under his glare.

“Alright, what is this bloody nonsense? I thought I’d made it clear I don’t want any Tossing in the watch house,” he said to Colon, once the man had huffed and puffed his way up the stairs.

“Well, Mister Vimes, I just thought I’d indulge the lads this once. Raise their spirits with some good ol’ cultural team building. For tradition’s sake and all.”

“Tradition? It’s not been two months, Fred!”

“We-ell, they’ve taken to it, sir. Besides, you can’t deny we’ve had crimes happen on every single Left Day since the Offishal Tossings started.”

“Good grief, you could say that about every bloody day since the founding of the city! I thought you weren’t a superstitious man, Fred.”

“No, sir, but the fish don’t lie,” said Colon fervently.

“Ugh. Next thing you know, the bloody Times will be printing it alongside the bloody date in their bloody papers.”

There was a guilty silence.

Vimes stared at the sergeant’s carefully blank face. A single droplet of sweat was slowly making its way down the man’s forehead. The beady little eyes flickered momentarily to a relatively unoccupied corner of the desk.

With a sinking dread, Vimes followed his gaze and beheld a newspaper lying there on top of the forlorn paperwork, all neatly rolled and still crisp from the press. Belatedly, he noticed the smell of fresh ink. At the top of the front page, a small print line proclaimed today’s date to be April 4th, Left Wednesday.

Five minutes later, sergeant Colon walked down the stairs and into a perfectly silent room full of watchmen. His face had the distant look of someone who had just seen a ghost, and was fairly sure everybody else had, too, but would be damned if he’d mention it first.

With nothing else to do, he cleared his throat. This seemed to break the spell; all at once, the room regained its normal level of noise as the coppers went back to their coppery activities. Only Nobby sidled closer and offered up a slightly bent cigar.

“What’s up with ol’ Stoneface today, sarge?”

“Dunno what’s gotten into him.” Colon took the cigar gratefully and lit it, trying not to think too hard about where it came from. “It’s this job, I expect. All this responsibility is wearing on his nerves.”

“Ah, right.”

“I mean, what’s so wrong with a little tradition once in a while, eh?”

“Beats me, sarge.”

“Doesn’t hurt no one, having some mores and values ‘round the place.”

“You never said a truer thing.”

“Ah, anyway, Mister Vimes is just overworked. Not his fault he’s got a bit of a cultural blind spot when he’s cranky,” Colon concluded magnanimously. “Maybe he could do with a coffee and a nice meal. I know I could… Say, Nobby, what’ve we got for breakfast in the cantine today?”

“Fish’n’chips, I think. Er… You alright there, sarge? …Sarge?”

* An unfortunate misunderstanding at the fishmonger’s that had led to the Offishal Tosser being handed a very live fish, foreboding a day of extreme mood swings for the populace.

** This is the social cue equivalent of climbing onto the roof at three in the morning and setting off a barrage of fireworks while waving an enormous fluorescent red flag. Not even a 6’6’’ dwarf could remain oblivious.

*** Only comparatively. This was Ankh-Morpork, after all.

**** Allegedly.

***** Except for Corporal Shoe, for whom it was a little late******.

****** heh.

[novascharms]

MY STRANGE ADDICTION - RAFE CAMERON

dealer! rafe cameron x maddy perez

Maddy Perez has never been addicted to drugs—nor will she ever be. Her only addiction is the campus dealer she just can't seem to shake off and no matter how hard she tries to break free, she keeps getting pulled back into his orbit.

w.c — 3.7 c.w — mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, biting, (i guess?), they should each have a warning cause they're both kinda crazy tbh masterlist a.n — had a dream about this and couldn't sleep until i wrote it sooo ya. maddy is my favourite character in the world, i was obsessed with her when euphoria was at its peak and i think the news that they started filming s3 x ongoing rafe obsession resulted in this odd ass dream lol.

maddy catches her situationship with another girl and has a very maddy-type reaction. <3

"Press your lips together so I can get the edges," Maddy murmured, leaning in closer as she worked the lipliner over Lexi's mouth with practiced precision. The muted hum of music thumped behind the bathroom's closed door, its bassline vibrating faintly underfoot. Cassie's voice, animated and shrill, pierced through the barrier as she paced, launching into yet another rant about some guy from another university who was “totally playing hard to get.”

The chaos was palpable—music, chatter, Cassie’s dramatics—but none of it phased Maddy. She was in her element, zoning out distractions with a skill so refined it felt second nature. Her steady hand glided over Lexi’s lips, guided more by instinct than concentration. Perfecting makeup had never felt like work to her, even amid the din of college parties and frenetic energy of their friend group.

"Cass, he didn’t even see you. None of us saw him," Kat drawled, fidgeting with the zipper on her tight leather skirt. Cassie let out a dramatic whine, the kind that always managed to teeter between endearing and irritating. Maddy glanced at Lexi, and the two exchanged a knowing look, subtle smiles tugging at their lips as if they’d been through this same routine with Cassie a hundred times before.

"I should just walk up to him!" Cassie declared, spinning on her heel with a flair of determination. "I’ll make him acknowledge me. I mean, I did go down on him last week. He owes me that much!" Her kitten heels lay discarded in the corner, her bare feet padding restlessly across the tiled floor as if trying to burn off her frustration.

"Bitch, don't do that." Maddy said flatly, rolling her eyes as she reached for a tube of gloss to finish Lexi’s lips. "You’re not chasing him. Let him come to you. Show him you’re not interested—it’s the only way these guys ever learn." She stood back to inspect her work, gesturing for Lexi to press her lips together a few more times before turning to face Cassie.

"Reverse psychology? That still works?" Cassie asked, her voice cracking slightly as her frustration morphed into the beginnings of an ugly cry. Her wide eyes glistened, teetering on the edge of melodrama.

"You give them too much credit," Maddy said dryly, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. "Most of them don’t think with anything but their dick." She smirked

Maddy would know.

Hers unfortunately did think with his brain which meant reverse psychology didn't exactly work the way she wanted it too sometimes. The problem with trying to make Rafe jealous when he pissed her off was that he was unpredictable.

Sometimes it worked, turned on his possessiveness and lead to nights where he’d scoop her up, take her home and fuck her senseless all night long with the added benefit of his frustration making the sex that much better.

Other times, it backfired spectacularly. He’d disappear, turning his attention to another girl just to prove she didn’t have the upper hand. Atleast not always.

It would never last though—any kind of distance they forced between the two of them. She'd been attending Oakland University for two years now. Her second year was coming to an end and this thing between her and Rafe started near the end of her first year. They'd never gone longer than three weeks without sleeping together since the moment she met him. He scratched an itch no one else could.

"Why does he even matter that much? Did he even go down on you?" Lexi’s dry question broke through Maddy’s thoughts, and Cassie turned to her sister with an expression of pure outrage.

"Obviously, he’s going to!" Cassie snapped, her tone implying that anything less would be unthinkable. Lexi just shook her head and turned back to the mirror, fussing with a stray curl in her hair.

"Can we just go?" Kat groaned, wiggling her empty glass. "I’m losing my buzz here." She shoved the bathroom door open, and the music hit them like a wave, the bassline pounding so hard it reverberated in Maddy’s chest. The hallway outside was hazy with cigarette smoke, the air thick and alive with the chaotic energy of the party.

The house was alive, pulsing with an electric energy that seemed to multiply in the time they’d spent in the bathroom. The hallways were packed, bodies pressed together in a chaotic blend of dancing and drunken attempts at conversation, voices raised to compete with the pounding music. The bass reverberated through the walls, a steady thrum that seemed to sync with the heartbeat of the party.

“I need a refill!” Maddy announced, weaving her way toward the bar with an easy, practiced confidence. The barman spotted her immediately, his expression lighting up with more interest than professionalism as she slid her empty glass onto the counter. She flashed him a tipsy, knowing smile, and he raised his brows, the corner of his mouth quirking into a teasing grin as he poured her another vodka cranberry.

Before she could take the first sip, a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She didn’t have to look to know it was Cassie. "I want shots!" Cassie squealed, her voice slicing through the music and landing directly in Maddy’s ear. Maddy winced, tilting her head to the side to escape the assault. “You heard her! Let’s do some shots!” she called, summoning the rest of their group to the bar.

The girls crowded around, each reaching for one of the freshly poured shot glasses lined up on the counter. “Okay, just down it. It’s like ripping off a bandage,” Kat coached, casting a glance at Lexi, who stared at the clear liquid as though it might rise up and attack her.

“Yeah, if the bandage is a burning throat,” Maddy quipped, earning a loud, theatrical sigh from Lexi.

“On three!” Cassie hollered, lifting her glass as the others followed suit. Maddy held her shot, but her attention was already drifting. Her gaze swept across the room, scanning the throng of partygoers until it landed on a figure that made her stomach tighten.

"One, two, three! Down it!" Cassie shouted, and the girls tilted their glasses back in unison—except for Maddy. Her hand hovered, forgotten, as her focus locked on a familiar frame descending the staircase.

Rafe. She’d know that silhouette anywhere, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way he carried himself like the world owed him something. But what snagged her attention more than his presence was the girl trailing behind him—a redhead in a short dress that clung to her like a second skin.

Maddy’s jaw tightened as she took in the signs. His shirt, slightly rumpled. His hair, a little damp with sweat. His lips, faintly swollen. And then, of course, the glaring evidence: a fresh hickey blooming on the side of his neck.

Her chest constricted as she watched him stroll into the living room, sliding effortlessly back into the fold of his friends. He sat, casual and unaffected, accepting a wad of cash from one of them as though he hadn’t just left some girl upstairs. He didn’t even glance at the redhead, who hovered for a moment before practically squeezing herself onto the couch like she had every right to be there.

Maddy’s fingers curled tightly around her glass. She could feel the heat rising in her, anger coiling in her chest like a snake ready to strike. She had a few options.

She could take the high road, pretend not to care. Let Rafe do whatever the fuck he wanted and maybe even give in to the flirtations of the bartender who’d been undressing her with his eyes all night. He was cute, sure.

Or, she could storm over there, drag the redhead off Rafe by her hair, and cause a scene so explosive it would have everyone talking for weeks. That would make Rafe the angriest. If there was one thing Rafe hated, it was public drama, especially at parties like this where his reputation mattered.

But her favorite option? The one she’d perfected over the past year? Make him jealous. Find someone else—anyone else—and put on a show right in front of him. Let him stew in his own possessiveness, watch his jaw tighten and his eyes darken. She could almost hear the messages he’d send later, each one angrier and more desperate than the last.

Her decision solidified the moment the redhead crossed a line. With a faux-casual air, the girl shifted closer, draping her leg firmly over Rafe’s, her hand trailing up his arm like she owned him. Maddy’s blood boiled, her grip tightening until the glass felt like it might shatter in her hand.

That did it, Maddy thought as she pushed through the crowd, weaving between bodies and a fleeting thought crosses her mind: she almost pitied the redhead. Almost. Because if she hadn’t made that little move, Maddy might’ve just gone home with the bartender and everyone would've had a great time.

Too late now. The girl had stepped into a minefield, and Maddy was about to detonate it.

Maddy barely registered Kat’s voice calling after her, pleading for her to stop, but it was too late. The haze of fury that gripped her was deafening, and her focus had narrowed to a single point: the girl’s leg, still comfortably draped over Rafe’s like she belonged there. And Rafe, the absolute dickhead, wasn’t doing a damn thing to stop it.

Rafe didn’t notice her at first, too absorbed in conversation with someone behind him—probably a customer. Typical. He was always “on the clock,” even at a party. But Anthony, one of his close friends and someone Maddy knew all too well, caught sight of her approach. He nudged Rafe just as she reached them.

Without hesitation, Maddy’s fingers sank into the girl’s short strawberry-red hair, yanking her upright with a swift, brutal motion. A gasp rippled through the group. “Maddy—” Rafe started, finally snapping out of his oblivion, but the sharp edge of her smile cut him off. She could tell by the look on his face that she’d pissed him off the moment he laid eyes on her. And that? That was deeply satisfying.

“Am I interrupting?” Maddy’s voice dripped with venom, loud enough to be heard over the thrum of music. Her gaze flicked between Rafe and the girl, who was now squirming under her grip like a cornered animal. “You and your girlfriend enjoying your fucked-up idea of a date?”

The girl screeched, clawing at Maddy’s wrist to free herself, but Maddy’s hold didn’t falter. She twisted her hand tighter, like a leash, and ignored her entirely.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp but controlled. She noted, with satisfaction, that he didn’t spare the redhead so much as a glance. He knew her well enough to realize that would only escalate things further.

Maddy’s eyes flashed as she stepped closer, forcing him to look down at her. “What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. She didn’t care that he towered over her, didn’t care that he could easily shove her aside. He wouldn’t. He never did.

“Got your dick wet?” she hissed, her hand shooting up to press her sharp nails into the hickey on his neck. “You satisfied?”

Rafe rolled his eyes and caught her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Let her go,” he warned, his voice dropping lower. “Don’t be fucking difficult, Maddy.”

She hummed mockingly, as though she were actually considering his request. Then, with a cruel yank, she pulled the girl closer until they were eye to eye. “Did he fuck you?” she asked coldly, ignoring Rafe’s exasperated sigh beside her.

The girl’s eyes filled with angry tears, her face contorted with frustration. Every time she tried to fight back, Maddy would twist her hair harder, forcing her to sway painfully in the direction of Maddy’s grip. “Twice,” the girl spat, her voice trembling with defiance.

For a moment, it felt like the entire room went silent. Of course, it hadn’t, but Maddy had always been good at tuning out background noise. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and Rafe muttering a curse under his breath.

With a shove, she released the girl, sending her stumbling backward into the crowd. The redhead didn’t matter. She never did. Maddy’s fury was directed elsewhere.

She turned to Rafe, her grin sharp and dangerous. “That good, huh? She so good you just had to hit it twice? Fucking asshole!” Her hand shot out, shoving him hard in the chest.

Rafe barely budged, but his expression darkened. “Maddy,” he started, but she didn’t let him finish. He caught her wrists to stop her, but she wrenched herself free.

“You wanna fuck other people and then act crazy when I do the same?” she shouted, her laughter incredulous and biting. “That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“There’s a difference!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising as he stepped closer, closing the space between them. “Grinding on some guy right in front of me isn’t the same as me hooking up with someone at a party you weren’t even supposed to be at!”

Maddy scoffed, her eyes blazing. “Oh, so it’s only okay if I do it behind your back? Good to know! Fucking great! I’ve got a whole list of people I need to bang, in that case!” She tried to shove past him, but his arm shot out, barring her path.

“Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Cameron!” she snapped, thrashing against his grip. She managed to scratch his forearm in the process, but if it hurt, he didn’t show it. Instead, he tightened his hold, dragging her away from the crowd.

“Let go!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the music like a blade. When he didn’t, she twisted harder, her voice dropping to a venomous snarl. “You’re such a fucking coward, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as his grip on her wrist remained firm. His sharp, icy glare never wavered as he dragged her through the hallway, ignoring her kicks and curses. She struggled with all the fire of her fury, but he didn’t falter, his focus unwavering. They reached a random bedroom, and the door slammed behind them with a resounding thud.

The moment they were inside, Maddy lunged for the door handle. “Nah,” Rafe growled, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. “You were so fucking desperate for my attention—you’ve got it now.”

She wrenched her arm in defiance, spitting her anger. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’ll go wherever the fuck I want.” She shoved him back with all the force her frame could muster and managed to yank the door halfway open before his hands were on her again. His grip was bruising this time, dragging her back into the room. The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls.

“You always gotta fucking do this,” Rafe barked, his voice low and simmering with frustration. His face hovered inches from hers, his breath hot against her cheek. “Always gotta be so goddamn dramatic. What the fuck do you want, huh?”

And that was how it always started—the yelling, the chaos, the war between two people too stubborn to back down. The true definition of an immovable object and an unstoppable force. It was a constant battle of who could scream the loudest with words that cut like knives.

“You love to act brand fucking new!” Maddy spat, her hands flying to his chest to push him away, eyes blazing with unfiltered rage. “This is what the fuck I get for lowering my standards!”

This was the problem. Maddy and Rafe were both cut from the same toxic cloth—fiery, stubborn, and vicious when provoked. Even when unprovoked. And yet, neither could let go. They were magnets, drawn together by the intensity of their hatred as much as their desire.

“Ah, ofcourse,” Rafe snarled, his expression twisting with anger as he took a threatening step forward, shoving her back against the door. He loomed over her, his body crowding hers. “That’s the problem, huh? You’re too good for me? That’s why you lose your fucking mind every time you see me with someone else? Makes perfect fucking sense, Maddy.”

Her lips curled into a tight, bitter smile as she crossed her arms. “Move.” Her tone was ice, her glare fire.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice still sharp but tinged with something raw beneath the anger.

“I don’t want shit from you!” she snapped, her voice rising as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Fuck you and that ugly strawberry-shortcake-looking bitch!” Her hands shot out, shoving him with all her strength.

Rafe staggered back a step, but the venom in his gaze didn’t waver. “Don’t act like you don’t know what this is,” he hissed, his voice low and biting. “I’ve never once promised to be anything more than a good fuck. You want something else? Then find it somewhere else.”

Maddy’s laugh was bitter and cutting, shaking her head as though his words were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “You know what grates me the most about you when you start spouting this dumb shit?” Her voice softened slightly, but the venom was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. She tilted her head, her tone mocking as she continued, “It’s the fact that you lose your goddamn mind every time you see me with someone else. Remember Eddie? Eddie from Lincoln?”

The mention of the name made Rafe’s jaw clench, his eyes narrowing as he looked away, but Maddy wasn’t about to let it go. “Yeah,” she pressed, her voice rising triumphantly. “You knocked him the fuck out! Wanna talk about that, Rafe?”

He scoffed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “He crossed a line,” he muttered, his tone dripping with disdain.

Maddy’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she leaned in closer, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Actually, he didn't. I never even got to fuck him because you had to go all caveman just because he grabbed my ass, huh?” Her words were sharp, relentless, designed to cut deep.

Rafe’s expression darkened further, his teeth grinding audibly. “He had the fucking nerve to do that shit in front of me,” he snapped, his voice barely above a growl. “And I punched him once. That weak-ass motherfucker went down like a light. He’s just fucking soft.”

“Oh, he’s soft?!” Maddy’s laughter rang out, sharp and derisive. “You’re so full of shit, Rafe. You’re fucking insane. You don’t want me, but no one else can have me either. That’s it, right?”

Rafe didn’t answer, his silence louder than any words.

Maddy was done. Her throat burned from yelling, and the sight of Rafe's smug, unbothered expression was grating against every raw nerve. With a huff, she turned away and reached for the door, determined to escape his orbit. But before her fingers even brushed the handle, his hands were on her. He moved quickly, crowding her space, his chest pressing against her back. His arms snaked around her, pulling her in as though the argument had only stoked his need.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered against her ear, his voice low and steady, a dark counterpoint to the chaos in her head. His hands roamed her body with incomporable ease, tracing over her hips and waist as if every curve had been etched into his memory. His touch was infuriatingly familiar, an intimacy she hated herself for craving. When his hand slid up to her throat, rough and commanding—she swore she’d walk away, her body betrayed her every single time. Rafe knew it, too. He knew exactly how to unravel her, to make her defenses crumble with nothing more than his touch.

His lips ghosted over her neck, soft and deliberate, and she struggled to contain the noises that threatened to tumble out. Every kiss sent a shiver down her spine, her resolve breaking apart with each featherlight touch. And then he turned her, one swift motion that left her facing him, her lips parting in anticipation before his mouth crashed into hers.

Maddy had come to realise that no one did anything the way Rafe did it. Rafe kissed like he was starving for her. Like he’d been holding his breath and she was the only source of air. His mouth moved with a desperation that should have made her pull away, but instead, it pulled her in. Every time they kissed, it felt like a revelation, a prayer, a reminder of why she could never fully let go. No one else kissed her like this, like she was the beginning and end of everything.

But even as the heat of his lips consumed her, jealousy lingered in the back of her mind like a toxic shadow. The thought of someone else touching him, kissing him the way they were now, sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through her. Her teeth found his bottom lip, and she bit down—hard.

“Fuck!” Rafe jerked back, blood pooling on his lip before he spit it onto the floor. His eyes flared with shock and fury as he touched the tender spot. “Maddy, what the fuck?” he roared, his voice echoing in the small room.

She straightened her dress with deliberate care, smoothing out the wrinkles he’d left in it. Her lips curved into a mocking smile, sweet and cutting all at once. “That bitch probably gave you chlamydia and herpes,” she said sweetly, venom dripping from every word. “So, no thanks. I don’t want your ran-through ass. Text me when you get tested, and maybe—maybe—I’ll give you the time of day.”

Without waiting for his response, Maddy spun on her heel and strode toward the door, her head held high.

“I fucking hate you, Perez!” Rafe shouted after her, his voice cracking with frustration.

Maddy didn’t even turn around. She simply raised her hand and flipped him off, her middle finger loud and proud as she disappeared into the party, leaving him to curse and stew in the aftermath.

[thescreaminghat]

just thinking about tf armada optimus after unicron is defeated (spoilers), when he's been battered by fighting and is now drifting aimlessly amidst the debris in space and comes across the matrix of leadership, the very symbol of authority and hope for the autobots---the symbol that he chose to discard before accepting a final fight with megatron---and how he resignedly says, "i dont deserve it".

like ig there's the interpretation that he somehow "stooped down" to megatron's level by engaging in the 1v1, but i dont really get that vibe, and it feels a little too simple, even for the often questionable dialogue choices for the eng dub. i dont get the impression that somehow optimus is now "bad" because he accepted megatron's challenge, because he's been fighting megatron for fucking 10 million years, and it's presented as a "necessary evil" even though the whole point with the minicons is that conflict and war and fighting is, probably, more of a harmful thing than a good one, because megatron's purpose is to control and exploit the minicons for his own ends (i.e. the series series is still a kids' show, meaning certain tropes, like "the good guys ultimately need to come out on top", are still going to be used even if moral complexities are explored).

rather, i get the sense that optimus's somewhat mournful/regretful rejection of the matrix comes from the fact that he didn't fully acknowledge all sides of him and never got the change to. despite the fact that his obsession with op clouds his judgment like 99% of the time, megs knows himself way too well---there was no way on god's green earth that he and op were going to hold hands and kumbaya and that's what he lived by his entire life. bro held onto an infatuation of the millennia but also held a level of animosity and craving that likely rivalled the level of forgiveness and generosity of primus himself. and megatron accepted this, accepted that he wanted to battle and feel in control and in the end, when the only thing he had left to prove was to his forever rival, that was all he wanted: one good fight and he would be at peace with the outcome of the entire universe (im counting what happens in tf energon as its own thing at this point, it's way too messy of a direct continuation of armada). imo megatron stayed true to his own feelings without the necessity of hamfisting a redemption arc, he went through notable growth (biggest example being his shift after starscream's death) but in the end, there were parts of him that were never going to change, so in a way, he saw his journey through to the end and made the choice to sacrifice himself for optimus because of that acceptance

in contrast, i get the sense that because optimus must constantly act as a figurehead to the autobots, he's not truly able to be 100% honest with what he wants, and who he is. not that there's any doubt that he truly believes in his mission, and that he hasn't been deceitful or dishonest, but i got the sense throughout the series that optimus keeps a lot to himself because he can't be anything less than the protector of the matrix (e.g. when starscream leaves the autobots, hotshot, furious and hurt at the betrayal, starts yelling at optimus and doubting why he made the choices that he did, op doesn't say anything. instead he just walks away, with this pained silence following him out the door, leaving scavenger to chew out hotshot for "disobeying orders"---which seemed kind of, idk, a weirdly ironfisted way (at least from the autobot side) to shut down some genuinely good and earnest questions. and that specific moment of tension never really gets resolved, because optimus sacrifices himself to, in a way, "make up" for his and starscream's mistake). why doesn't he defend himself? if he truly believed in starscream and the inherent goodness of all cybertronians then why not express that directly to hotshot with passion, with conviction, with acceptance of all aspects of his own beliefs?

ig what im trying to say is, being the bearer of the matrix seems to instil (at least to me) this sense of "purity" or "virtuous aloofness" in optimus, whether out of duty or a genuine belief in those qualities as being the ideal. so when optimus discards the matrix specifically to fight megatron, and subsequently tells himself that he "doesn't deserve" that symbol of leadership, i think what he is berating himself for is having enjoyed a fight just a little too much or at the wrong time, having chosen to do something that wouldn't have fit the mould he had held himself to. his first response to megatron's reminiscing about how their fight reminded him of the "good old days" is denial ("i can't say that i enjoyed it").

tldr my interpretation (definitely wrong) is that op has a lot of responsibility and it seems to create a kind but also distant version of him in armada; it feels like op is repressing a lot of who he is and the rejection of the matrix brings him into the daunting realization that yeah, maybe that was for the better. maybe it's ok to not deserve that honour. he'll have to accept that and live with it, but it's ok.

[hypnagogicwriter]

𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧

fandom masterlist | general navigation

synopsis: There's glitter on the floor after the party, and Y/N finds herself cleaning up year after year. Surprisingly, Gojo Satoru joined her once and didn't seem to leave.

Tags: Gojo Satoru/f!Reader, Reader is Not a Jujutsu Sorcerer, still kicks ass tho, Soft Gojo Satoru but he is struggling with emotions, Feelings?, Reader has a problematic past, We only briefly look at that, kinda Strangers to Lovers, inaccurate canon universe

Words: 1471

Kinda obvious based on this song

The sound of laughter and distant fireworks echoed through the halls of Jujutsu High as the students celebrated the arrival of a new year. The main room was a mess of discarded cups, streamers, and confetti, and Y/N stood at the center, broom in hand, surveying the aftermath.

It was tradition now—she’d clean while the others enjoyed themselves, preferring the quiet over the chaos of the party. That's where she belonged, after all.

“You know, there’s no rule that says you have to do this every year.”

The familiar voice made her sigh. She turned to see Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe, his blindfold perched on his head.

“Shouldn’t you be off dazzling everyone with your charm?” she asked, resuming her sweeping.

“I already dazzled them,” he said, walking into the room. “Now I’m here to dazzle you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Grab a broom if you’re going to stay.”

He smirked but complied, picking up the other broom. Together, they cleaned in silence, the remnants of the party fading away. This was not possible when Y/N took up the position as a regular teacher, the communication between the two of them was too harsh.

“You’re always cleaning up after everyone,” he said after a while, his voice quieter than usual. “Why?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the floor. Someone has to do the dirty work. At home, it was always her. A bit like Cinderella, only without a prince, but with a good friend with exceptionally good contacts, who couldn't stand her family.

His gaze lingered on her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing in him.

The first time Gojo had seen Y/N like this was a year ago, on New Year’s Day. She had been sitting in the empty common room, staring at the remnants of another celebration. He’d wandered in, looking for a late-night snack, and found her instead.

“You okay?” he’d asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Just thinking,” she’d replied, her voice echoing back from the end of the universe.

He didn’t press her that night, just sat across from her and shared the silence. It became a habit after that—running into her at odd hours, sharing unspoken moments in the aftermath of celebrations or battles.

She intrigued him, this non-sorcerer who carried herself with quiet strength. He wasn’t used to people like her.

There are 12 months between "Gojo Satoru is really getting on my nerves!" and "You're really hard in love, Y/N" (Shoko smirking diabolically).

It started with little things—passing conversations in the halls, stolen glances during meetings, and a steady rhythm that Y/N hadn’t noticed was building. Gojo had a way of inserting himself into her life, in the spaces between her routines.

One day, she was grading papers in the courtyard, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the stone path. She heard the distinct crunch of footsteps and sighed.

“Gojo, if you’re here to bother me—”

“Bother you?” he interrupted, dropping into the chair across from her. “I’m here to provide you with my much-needed company. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for your company,” she replied, not looking up from her work.

“Your eyes did,” he teased, leaning back and balancing his chair on two legs. “They practically screamed, ‘I wish someone would entertain me.’”

Y/N smirked despite herself. “My eyes must be malfunctioning, then.”

They fell into their familiar talking, his teasing bouncing off her sharp retorts. By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, she realized she hadn’t marked a single paper but didn’t feel annoyed about it.

Another time, they crossed paths in the library. She was perched on a ladder, pulling down a stack of dusty books, when his voice rang out.

“Need a hand, shorty?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Gojo.”

“Come on, let me be your knight in shining armor,” he said, winking up at her.

“Go pester someone else,” she muttered, carefully stepping down the ladder.

But when she mistook the last step, Gojo was there, catching her before she could hit the ground. She blinked up at him, her face inches from his, and for a moment, the air between them shifted and Y/N thought of kissing him.

“Careful,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

“Thanks,” she murmured, stepping out of his arms and busying herself with the books.

The moments kept piling up—him bringing her coffee during long staff meetings, her quietly leaving snacks in the training rooms he frequented. Neither addressed the subtle shift, but it was undeniable, and for everyone to see.

The breaking point came during a mission. A group of students had been sent to exorcise a minor curse but found themselves overwhelmed. Y/N and Gojo had been dispatched as backup.

While Gojo handled the curse with his usual flair, Y/N focused on helping the injured students. She knelt beside one, assessing their wounds, like Shoko had shown her and other non-sorcerers, when she heard Gojo’s voice behind her.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Before she could react, he was in front of her, his hand raised as a barrier materialized to deflect a stray attack. The curse dissolved moments later, but the weight of his protective stance lingered.

“You okay?” he asked, turning to her, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Can’t have anything happening to you.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, so honest.

Later that night, as she replayed the events in her mind, she found herself questioning her growing feelings. It wasn’t just his charm or his power—it was the way he seemed to notice the parts of her that others overlooked.

And while she hated to admit it, she couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. She had fallen for Gojo Satoru, and it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath her feet.

There are 12 months between “Y/N is a pain in my ass!" and "You're down bad, Gojo-san" (Ijichi grinning diabolically).

This New Year’s was quieter than the last. Most of the students had gone home, leaving the school nearly empty. Y/N found herself cleaning again, the silence soothing as she swept confetti into a pile.

“You’re predictable,” Gojo said, appearing as if from nowhere.

She didn’t look up. “And you’re annoying.”

He chuckled, grabbing a nearby chair and spinning it around to sit backward. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Hide away. Take care of everyone else. Pretend like you don’t matter.”

Because she meant nothing. She was just a mixture of bone and flesh. Meaningless. Next to everything else. For the sake of peace, she decided not to say it out loud. You hide something like that behind walls without doors.

She stopped sweeping. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been watching you,” he said, his tone serious. “You give so much of yourself to everyone else, but you never let anyone in.”

Oh, how she hated the way he read her like an open book. The way he gently hit the points. The way he tore down the walls, she carefully built around her past.

Her chest tightened, and she turned away. “Why do you care?”

“Because I care about you,” he said simply, standing up. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Don’t joke about that, Satoru.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, I really did. Because having this kind of feeling for people, for non-sorcerers especially, is tough. I learnt from my past that it can hurt, but I also learnt that it hurts the most not to talk about. So yeah, I do care about you so, so deeply and I would never joke when it comes to you —and my students.”

She turned to face him, searching his face for any hint of mockery, but all she found was sincerity. She was speechless.

“You drive me crazy,” she said, her voice trembling.

He smiled, but it was softer this time. “Good. Then we’re even.”

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Y/N and Gojo sat side by side in the common room, the mess forgotten.

“Do you think this is a mistake?” she asked quietly, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Probably,” he replied, lacing his fingers with hers. “But I don’t care.”

She laughed softly, and he turned to look at her, his eyes bright in the dim light.

“Stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

And she did, in fact, stayed in this love, even longer than him.

[jayhyunglover]

sneak peak into my new Caleb fic because I am losing will to finish it

warnings : smut under cut so MDNI , oral sex , slight exhibitionism

"What have you done to me Caleb?” You sighed as you leaned your head against your chair , your eyes looking up at the white ceiling as if it had the answers of your question but it didn't.  No one did . 

You let out another heavy sigh before discarding your tie on your desk to see if you'd finally breathe properly .

Just as you thought you might be getting some rest from this unbearable heat that have been creeping up on your body your door fled open revealing an angry Caleb 

The sight of him , especially mad made your whole body throb with an intensity that should be concerning but your mind was way out of it to care. 

He stepped closer to your desk , the clicking sounds of his boots along with your thumping heartbeat the only sounds registering in your mind. 

“What makes you think taking her on such a dangerous mission was a good idea ?” You heard him snap , his voice barely able to contain his anger. 

His words cut sharply through your daze , your eyes blinking back to focus on anything but the way his face looked so distractingly attractive 

“I didn't take her anywhere” you said,  your voice sounding way too calm and steady for someone who was literally burning in the inside “your pipsqueak boarded on that plane without permission like a grown up” you added earning a scoff from him 

“You expect me to believe she managed to pass all those security guards to board on a plane with you out of all people” he leaned in to rest his hands on your desk , his eyes shining with a possessive gleam that wasnt directed at you but got your heart rate spiking nonetheless 

“What ?” You tilted your head mockingly at him before raising from your seat to lean closer towards him “you expected me to put a gun on her temple to force her fly away with me on an wanderer infested island only to come back unscathed” you added in a heated whisper against his ear that had his jaw clenching 

“Think wisely Caleb” You scoffed before stepping away from him , attempting to put some distance between you , to quell down the hunger that burned inside you the more you inhaled the addictive scent of his cologne 

But Caleb wouldn't let you off the hook this easily . As you waked beside him to head to your office door , he pulled you towards him by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

An embarrassing squeal left your parted lips as you felt your back hit the wooden material of your desk .

“Have I ever told you that jealousy looks awful on you , Lieutenant?” You felt the ghost of his lips against your heated skin as he whispered the words against your neck 

“T-this has nothing to do with jealousy” you heaved out , already panting while he hasn't even touched you yet .

“It doesn't hm?” He purred against the soft flesh of your neck before biting on it hard enough to have you clawing at the edge of the desk “then why have you been avoiding me?” 

The question made your eyes widen the suddenness of it too abrupt for your scrambled mind to process . 

“Tell me , lieutenant” he pressed,  his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the bruised skin he bit earlier . 

“You have your pipsqueak back our deal is supposed to be over” you managed to get out between feverish pants. 

The flash of disappointment you saw through his eyes had your resolve faltering but the fragment of memories you saw when you resonated with the hunter earlier flashed through your mind strengthened it further . 

Don't get caught up in illusions.  This man wasn't yours.  

The realization made a burst of anger spread throughout you , one that had you yanking his hair harshly until your lips crashed against his,  all teeth and tongue , drinking him in like a thirsty man in desert that finally found water. Because he was your water , your light , a light that was bound to left you . 

Caleb kissed you back with the same fervor,  his gloved hand wrapping lightly around your throat as his mouth devoured yours with a feral intensity. It was messy ,depraved and desperate.  

A small hushed plea left your mouth as he parted his lips from  yours to trail kisses down on your neck,  his hands nothing but tearing  your uniform shirt to shreds . 

Your hand reached out to unbuckle his belt but he stopped you halfway , his hand moving swiftly to bound your wrists with your own discarded tie. 

“No touching this time Lieutenant” he taunted,  cupping your chin to make you look up at him , the feral gleam in his purple  eyes making your cunt throb harder. 

“Today you're all mine” he whispered before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. 

How you wished you could be his but this would never happen. You were just a sinner and he was your worst sin. The one who will drag you through the pit of hell. 

The small kiss he left on your nose was the last thing you felt before he slid down to his knees in front of you , his large hands spreading your legs apart as you tried to steady yourself on top of the desk despite your bound wrists. 

His fingers unzipped your pants before sliding them off you , leaving your legs  bare for him to admire 

How he has missed this view . 

“Still as beautiful as ever , Lieutenant” you heard him whisper in awe,  the compliment making you feel even dizzier while your cunt fluttered uncontrollably at his praises 

“Look at her” he looked up at you as he ran a gloved  thumb along your covered slit “so wet for me already” 

You could feel his infuriating smirk against your plush fold through the flimsy material of your panties . He was so close but so far away at the same time, it drove you wild. 

“Caleb” you whimpered out , your pleading  eyes looking down at him in an half hearted glare that made his cock twitch 

“What?” He smirked before peeking the drenched material of your panties in a way that had you throwing your head back 

“What do you need , darling?” The sound of him calling you darling made your hips buck against his face , the sinful moan escaping your lips sounding like music to his ear. 

“I need you” the words felt more like a confession than anything and if it wasn't for that weird wanderer based substance in your system you'd probably felt pathetic for baring your soul to him  like this but right now as his face was resting between your legs seconds away from feasting ,you didn't give a damn.  

The regrets and sermons would come later when you were  no longer aching and panting from him . 

The heat of Caleb's mouth pulled you out of your musings,  the overwhelming sensation making you cry out loud . He hasn't even bothered to take off your ruined panties , his mouth latching onto the flimsy material like he was starving. 

He was merciless,  the relentless pace making you squeal.  

“Oh fuck just like that” you moaned,  not even ashamed of the sounds you were making.  His tongue rolled  over your swollen bud over and over until you were practically in tears .

And when you felt like you'd finally reach heaven ,a knock to your door made him stop, his eyes looking up to take in your form. 

And shit. The sight of you spread out on your desk with your shirt half buttoned,  your skin flushed with heat , panting with tears clinging to your waterline almost had him cumming in his pants  

Such a sight to behold and all for him to see. 

Another knock on the door made him let out a small growl against you , clearly not pleased by being interrupted .

“Lieutenant” you heard a worried voice said from the other side “can I come in?” 

Commander Ash? Your ears perked up . 

Shit shit shit why is here ? 

You looked down at Caleb who  was already back to work , his fingers pulling your ruined panties to the side to suck , lick and nip at your sensitive flesh while you tried your best to stay quiet and gather your thoughts 

“Lieutenant” Ash knocked once again “are you alright in there?” his voice was growing somewhat more restless. 

“Respond darling” you felt Caleb's nip at your clit before looking up at you from where he was kneeling “it's so rude to leave someone hanging hm?” He spat right on your entrance before slurping down the mess. 

“ngh_” the sight of him looking so devilishly at you nearly had you cumming here and there on his face but he purposely slowed down his pace to maddening kitten licks so you would  focus on responding Ash. 

But that only made you more restless and frustrated . 

“I am fine” you snapped , voice laced with frustration while the man below faintly chuckled before rewarding you with a flick of his tongue that made you groan .

You fought against your restraints so at least you would cover your mouth to muffle your sounds but no matter how hard you tried the knot wouldn't loosen . 

Handsome bastard. 

“Are you sure?” you heard Ash said ,  the confusion note in his tone not escaping Caleb's ear. 

“You don't really sound well” the sound of the creaking handle made your heart rate pick up . your stomach curled into knots with a mixture of fear and arousal that has fresh waves of your beading juices gushing around Caleb's tongue 

You didn't lock the door and he could barge in at any moment 

“Dirty girl” he muttered faintly against your plush folds , sticking strands connecting his lips to your pussy . 

You bit down on your lips to not let out a loud moan , the squelching sounds of your cunt along with your barely concealed moans leaving no doubt of what was happening inside there . Thought one thing was clear , Ash was clearly wrestling with the handle that wouldn't budge Thanks to Caleb's evol. 

“I am fine truly” you attempted to spoke again but the way Caleb was making out with your lips below while his gloved hand rubbed tight circle around your clit made your words came out like breathy whimpers. “Just a bit busy” 

You really hoped Ash would get the memo and get the fuck out here before you combusted . 

“Ok then” he said, his tone sounding a tad disappointed “I'll see around then Lieutenant” 

Yeah you'll see her around now go . 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the sound of  Ash's eloigning footsteps finally disappeared leaving only you and the smirking man buried nose deep between your thighs. 

“You're such a dirty little thing , Lieutenant” he rasped out , flicking your clit one last time before raising to his full height . 

@gazelover666

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 60

"she's just... amazing, you know?"

nico chuckled, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back in his seat. he and jack had managed to steal the seats by the only table on the bus to the second game of their newest road trip. while most of the team caught up on some sleep, the two friends were engrossed in a round of gin rummy – one jack was losing by quite a lot. "you keep telling me that," the captain said, placing a king down on the table. "so does anna. i haven't met her, but it feels like i know everything about her already."

jack laughed along with this, picking up a new card from the pile. "i'm going to bring her along so you can meet her someday, and you'll see."

"to the christmas family skate, maybe?"

the younger of the men pressed his lips into a line, head tilting to the side as he looked up from his cards. "not sure about that, it's still a little early," he said.

"early? you've been going out for months, and it's still early?" nico shook his head. "you two see each other all the time, and it's still early. whenever i ask if you want to do something, it's always, no i have a date, or something."

"you're exaggerating."

the swiss sighed, shaking his head. "what's the deal with that, anyway?" he asked. "why won't you bring her along? are you ashamed of her?"

"of course not." jack gazed over his cards for a long time, pretending to think about which card to place instead of formulating his next sentence. "it's just… complicated. difficult. she's not the type to want to be paraded around the arena like a puck bunny or whatever." he finally placed a queen on top of the discard pile, reaching over to grab his water bottle from his bag and take a sip.

"sure. but showing her off and just taking her to one game is different, no?" nico countered, grabbing the queen jack had just placed, and dropping it down in front of him along with two other queens.

the younger groaned at his actions, shaking his head. "how is that even possible?!" he exclaimed, before letting out a deep sigh and returning to the former subject. "i guess… i don't really know where we stand. like, we see each other all the time, but…"

"man, i heard she's got some serious commitment issues, but if it's this bad…"

jack's ears perked up at this. "you heard what? did anna say something?"

nico thought for a moment before placing his cards face-down on the table and sighing. "i don't know how true this is – anna told me that jenny told it to her, but you know girls." jack nodded slowly, so he kept on talking. "there's… some stuff in her past, apparently. her parents' relationship wasn't too good, and one of her exes… man, i shouldn't say anything because i don't really know, so you should ask her yourself."

jack tried his best not to react, to make it seem like he in fact knew everything his captain was talking about. he nodded slowly, a soft "yeah, you're right" slipping from his lips. on the outside, he looked calm as a ???

but on the inside? completely freaking out. your parents? your ex? jack thought he had finally managed to reach deeper into you, that he had finally gotten you to open up. you were much more honest with him, and he was sure that you two were on the right track, even if you moved slowly. but you had never as much as hinted to anything in your past affecting you the way nico was insinuating.

he felt a little dumb, though, that he hadn't realized sooner. of course there was something deeper going on that he had no idea about. but oh how badly he wished you were comfortable enough to tell him about it, instead of him having to hear about it from his friend. who heard it from his fiancée, who heard it from your friend, who heard it from you. four degrees of separation were three too many.

as if sensing that jack needed a break from his own thoughts, nico placed his final two card onto the table, leaving jack with about fifty points worth of deadwood. the boy slammed his head onto the table as he let nico collect all of the cards, a string of curses falling from his lips.

sure, his mind was now occupied, but at what cost?

[messy-gemini1]

Dad Body (Arthur x fem! Reader) *there will be smut in this*

Arthur would never believe you If you ever told him He'd leave his gang behind. Hell he'd probably laugh in your face and tell ya to scram..

But it happened. And he did it more willingly than he thought he would. When he met you in the gang, He never thought You'd look his way.

Never thought You'd say yes to that first date. Never say yes to being his.. Never thought he'd leave with you so willin'

All of it.. because of you. Because of your love. The promises of happiness, the way you opened his eyes to Dutch's madness, how you stayed by his side through thick and thin, through arguments, through the good and the bad.

When you all had left the gang after beaver hollow, Arthur would have never thought he could be so happy. To be so willing to live a civilized life with you on a ranch.

But here he was, working hard on the ranch you two owned, his two boys running around laughing as you sat on the porch watching them as you sent smiles his way.

He loved it...loved all of this..

Except the added physical weight to his domestic life... ______ He was getting ready for bed that night, unbuttoning his shirt as you laid in bed reading and waiting for him.

He let out a sigh as he stared at himself in the mirror.\

"I've gained weight..." he muttered to himself, in almost distain.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud or even for you to hear it. Not until you spoke up.

"Excuse me?" You were looking at him with a soft frown, your book now closed and discarded to the bedside table.

Arthur glanced back at you, frowning "I said I've gained weight. and I hate it." he huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You moved to your knees, hugging him from behind with your chin on his shoulder. "what do you mean you hate it..you look good Arthur...better than I've ever seen you before.."

Arthur scoffed and looked away, unable to believe you loved his body. "i don't see how, look like a stuffed hog-ow!" his words caused you to swat his bicep

"don't you ever say that again Your as beautiful as the day I met you and I'm so damn happy you got weight on you, It means were livin' and not just survivin' ". You spoke, a firm look in your eyes that mad Arthur's resolve weaken.

"i don't see how you could love this...I got..I got a damn Dad body" he huffed. You couldn't help but laugh "well, you are a dad so" you teased as Arthur chuckled after you.

"touché" he smiled

"so does that mean i got a mom body?' you teased him, he shook his head smiling "your perfect, Darlin'" he muttered, turning his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

"so are you...and I'll prove it to you" you spoke, moving from behind him and in-between his legs. Arthur flushed instantly at the sight of you on your knees for him.

"D-darlin-" he started, only for you to shush him, working on his belt.

Art hr couldn't help the growing arousal burning in the pit of his stomach and working its way down to his groin. His eyes darkened as they watched you tug his breeches down and off, humming at the sight of the tent in his boxers.

"all for me?" you purred, palming the bulge that caused your husband to give a small groan of satisfaction. Arthur let out a soft groan, eyes fluttering just a little as he leaned back down on his hands.

Arthurs hand shook as he hesitantly slipped them into your hand, fingers threading through the locks as he watched you.

you smiled up at the man, sending him a wink before slipping the boxers down and off, tossing them behind you. “Mmm..still a hard as ever huh..?” You purred.

What Arthur lacked in length he made up in girth along with his balls being a little bigger than most men, giving the impression that he was Very fertile (he is).

Arthur groaned as you began placing soft kisses along his shaft, licking the thick veins that stood up. “D-damn it, please sweetheart. Don’t tease me..” he groaned.

You snickered, smiling as you swirled your tongue around his tip, moaning just to tease.

Arthur growled, fingers tightening around your locks and before he could think he had forced your head down to take him, makin you gag just a little.

but he couldn’t care right now, he was too pent up from the teasing to care. His hands forcing your head up and down his cock, facefucking you.

But you didn’t care either, drooling and smiling around your husband as you let him use you as he pleased. It was nice to see him so…forceful. Arthur growled as he kept it up, his balls slapping her chin as he fucked her throat, head tossed back “fuck..goddamit it baby..” he groaned.

you moaned around him, eyes blurry with tears but you didn’t fare pull away. Taking the pain with the pleasure.

“fuck I’m gonna cum, you want me to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours baby?” He growled, you nodded around him best you could. Gasping when he pulled you off.

“open wide, sugar” he growled, fisting his cock over your face as you knelt before him, mouth open with your tongue hanging out.

Arthur’s voice turned to growls and groans as he fisted his cock before snarling as he came, ropes of cum shooting into your mouth and a little on your face and chest.

He panted, staggering a little as he looked down at you, immediately feeling his heart ache at the sight of you so messed up.

face covered in his seed, tears drying on your eyes. God he couldn’t stop himself sometimes.

You panted as your wiped your face off. “Feel appreciated now?” You purred.

Arthur blushed, only for the arousal to burn back in his stomach again like a switch and he was immediately ready to blow you.

“maybe once I’ve fucked that pretty pussy of mine, I will be” he growled and picked you up, slamming your body into the bed so you were on your stomach.

You gasped as he tore the thin fabric of bloomers off you, his head dipping in to lick at the slick dripping.

“n-ngh! Arthur..” you whined but he didn’t listen, growling as he got a taste before pulling away and slapping your ass a few times and squeezing.

“ass up baby girl, you wanna make daddy feel appreciated dontcha?” He grinned. You blushed red and nodded, arching your hips so your ass was raised more.

once you did that, It was game on for Arthur. He pulled yur hips roughly against his own, grinding his hardened cock between your slick folds, groaning as it covered his cock in s glistening sheen.

”ready for daddy, baby?” He asked, making you nod ad you bit your bottom lip.

He smirked and spread your ass with his hands, lining himself up before slamming in. He was rough and fast with his thrusts, not really caring about how mean he was when bullying his cock into you.

You moaned out, biting down on the sheets as he pounded from behind, God he was Iike heaven, like living in heaven and you never wanted to leave, never wanted to let him leave.

“Fuck fuck fuck..” you moaned into the sheets eyes rolling back as his shaft pistoned inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

”thats right baby girl, moan for me, Make daddy feel appreciated” he growled, his hips snapping like a whip.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned and cried into the sheets.”yes yes yes! Arthur don’t stop!” You cried.

Arthur smiled, not daring to stop, he felt too good, too loved, too everything.

“I aint gonna last much longer if you keep squeezing me baby” he groaned, feeling you clamp down on him like a vice.

You cried out, head tossed back as he kept hitting that spot over and over

”close baby? Yeah? Gonna cum for me” he growled in your ear, biting and sucking on the skin around your neck.

You moaned and nodded “yes, fuck yes”

“good, I’m almost..fuck..I’m almost there baby..” he groaned, feeling his own end nearing.

The bed creaked loudly with his movements , soft groans and moans leaving the Two.

”fuck I’m cumming..!” She cried out.

Arthur snarled, snarled not that far away.

He gave a few more hard thrusts, slamming himself full inside, releasing himself inside and causing your own climax to hit.

The two of them lied in bed, panting.

”how..how do you feel now..?” You chuckled, smiling tiredly over at the man.

Arthur chuckled weakly, wiping the sweat off his face “better…” he smiled.

“Thank you..for making me still feel so loved and..wanted” he spoke, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder as he cleared you up.

You could only smile as he did so, too worn out to give him your usual quips.

Once he was done cleaning the two of you up, he slipped into the bed beside you and tugged you close, sighing out softly as he did so.

“I love you..” He mumbled.

“And I love you, even if you were to get old and grey, or fat and jazzy, I’d still love you, Arthur..” you smiled, kissing his lips gently.

Arthurs eyes softened as he kissed back, savoring the feeling in his chest at your words. God what did he do to deserve a woman like you..

Maybe it was okay he had a dad bod, and maybe it was okay that he gained weight. After all…you still loved him and thats all that matter.

~~~~~~ A/n: wowie, kinda my first time writing real smut in a while. But I hoped ya liked it! This has been sittin in my drafts for a while and i decided why the hell not! Anyways, requests are open so feel free to ask!

[rain-soaked-sun]

I loathe love you

“My dearest, Zaros

I must confess I find putting words to paper is much easier rather then speaking them aloud. I must also confess to being hesitant to write this , but to also send it. However, I did not want to lose contact with my closest confidant and companion . Have you already finished your studies the board has assigned us over the holidays? I imagine you already have as you are eager to please and eager to learn all you can. I do not know how long I can make this letter. As you must know life as an Earis is very busy because I am so important so I have many duties to attend , so you should be quite glad you are taking up my time out of school. Almost no one has such a privilege. You must hang out to my every word , it is only right since I’m such a figure. At the time of writing I have a meeting with my mother and then I have hours set aside after dinner to study individually, I must keep my mind sharp to be an Eminence. As of now the weather is quite satisfactory, all clouds look whiter than the shade of your hair in the light. Sadly, I must depart as one has to get ready for the meeting, it is very tedious despite it being so casual , but I am used to it.

Your’s

The Earis”

From the date stamped onto the back of the paper , the letter had been posted one week ago exactly, quite swiftly but then again they must have their own postal service. Zaros chuckled lightly at the mix of vulnerability and of their snark. It was truly amusing how versatile they could be , but then again he supposed that was human nature.

Zaros set the page down with an uncharacteristic amount of reverence and immediately set to work on his own letter in response, muttering something about it being perfect.

Many crumpled papers and wasted ink he had finally come up with a sufficient draft of what he wanted to say , but if he had to write another damned letter he might have leap out of the nearest window. Half out of frustration for not getting the letter right, and half of the fact he was so upset over it, it was just a letter to a friend, not a graded assignment. Then again, his own pining had taken over all reason ,and muddled his brain to the point of being lovesick and unable to make his thoughts make sense let alone come out right

upon much frustration zaros came upon the words that seemed all right at best

“My dear Earis

I must say I’m simultaneously suprised and somehow not that you wrote, and to write as eloquently and expressively as you did struck a chord in me.

You do have a way with words that could put the greatest poet to shame

As to your question , I did read the books, wrote a page on it for extra credit, read some more books because the war had some interesting characters I felt compelled to learn more about. Perhaps , you will learn something or do you think you have learned enough for a lifetime?

I’m sorry my letter will be short, truthfully I could not figure out what to say worthy of eyes , but thankfull by the time you will get this we will back in school and I , in your presence.

I will see you soon.

Your most loyal companion ,

Zaros Athalin. “

Zaros sighed and folded the paper with quiet acceptance, it was not was he wanted to say-not what he wanted to at all . He stared longingly at a discarded piece of paper on his desk. It had barely any writing, his greeting, his name at the end. And 3 detrimental words

“Greetings my Earis

I love you

Your humble servant “

[ashleyrowanthewriter]

The News - Life and Times of Ashley the Crow (Crow HRT 6)

Previous

*************

Whenever a prominent and famous otherkin announces that they decide to transition into their species completely, and especially after they finish the process, it becomes the number one hot topic among the community. That was such a day.

"So they really made it through?" Arja said, looking into the sky.

"Yes. Half the fan base is in chaos."

"Lucky them. I wonder where they are now."

"Nobody's really sure. I bet on some lonely cave in the mountains."

Something about the clouds that day felt fervent that day. The world opened a new chapter.

"You know, they were a very big figure. A lot is going on. It feels like the greatest debate in the world."

"It really seems to dislike the idea of discarding your humanity just like that."

"It always tries to stop social changes. Individual, collective, one dog."

"So how loud are those who think it's suicide of the mind?"

"Greatly."

Arja sighed. "I fucking knew it."

"But other sides are getting believers too."

"And what do you think?"

"That you're still yourself. It's just your behaviour that aligns with your body."

"That's a nice way of looking at it."

"That's what the most proves point to."

Our talk brought my mind to a topic I wanted to move for a long time.

"Arja, do you want to go all the way?"

"Would you miss me?"

"Maybe. But I would root for you and appreciate our time together."

"Even if I had to go to a lonely cave in the mountains?"

"Yes, I'd get ready for that."

"Aw, that's sweet. But no, I'd much prefer to go for hybridisation."

"I see. Then I guess you're close. You'll be mighty, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Arja made a pause. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to ask her question. "Hey, if you could do it then how far would you go? Don't answer if you're not comfortable."

"All the way."

"Really?"

"Don't tell me there were no signs."

"I mean, there were. But with how much you like to write I wasn't sure."

"I think talons and the beak are enough to use a keyboard."

I quickly realised I wasn't telling Arja the entire truth. I knew that I should be more honest.

"Well, that's what I would like to say."

"It's not just about that. My body takes anything medical worse and worse recently. I'm afraid that if I tried to do it it would destroy me. And I'm not even talking about my heart anymore."

"Eh, as if it all couldn't leave you."

"Yeah."

"But didn't you got through much tougher stuff?"

"Last time I had new complications."

"And would you like Her to win?"

I knew who Arja referred to as Her. If you are in the otherkin community you have for sure heard about a particular writer. One that really wants us gone. One that I swore to one day be better than.

"True. I can let a lot of people win, but not Her."

"Now that's the Ashley I know."

"Hey one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Would you like me to be your pet?"

"I don't think one can keep crows."

"Well, that sucks. And I guess that's another reason why I don't know anymore."

"Hey, we can still be friends. I can leave you fruits in a feeder."

"Thanks. I don't know what I could do for you though."

"Oh, just peck on the uninvited guests."

"And without violence?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

*************

My crow cooldown has ended and here I go. I wanted to write about something else and less emotionally, but I changed my plans after I saw the last page from @ayviedoesthings . I think half the community did.

Also, for those who are like me and have a hard time learning idioms, "one dog" means roughly "there's no difference" and I encountered it in Polish.

Aha. Maybe there's a good reason why you can't adopt crows in many regions of the world, but not for a constitutional homo marriage ban. Caw with me if you agree.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:

15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.

None of the hijackers were from Iraq.

None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.

None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.

[hylianane]

And when OPLA calls back to Zeff telling the crew to read stories to Zoro so he can hear their voices and recover faster, by having Sanji sit by his bedside on Thriller Bark and read him a book about the All Blue. What will you do then?

[maddymoreau]

My Thoughts on Poppy Playtime Chapter 3

Ollie is ADORABLE!!!! "No ouchies or lost body parts?" HE'S A BABY I NEED TO PROTECT!!!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!! (¬‿¬) I have ZERO evidence for this but my theory is he’s The Prototype.

I’m REALLY happy to see the phone Ollie calls the player on is identical to the one in Project: Playtime! It’s nice seeing stuff introduced in Project: Playtime finally appear in the main series.

( ⚆_⚆ ) ESPECIALLY DR. HARLEY SAWYER!!!! WOW THE TAPE FEATURING HIM TALKING TO THE PROTOTYPE WAS DARK!!!! I knew a man like Dr. Sawyer would be a sick and twisted individual since he created the Bigger Bodies Initiative.

Despite that I was NOT prepared to hear the joy in his voice to experiment on children. It was revolting.

This exchange:

Prototype: "You stick us. Beat us. Tear at flesh. Do you feel it?"

Dr. Sawyer: "There is a secret inside you, 1006. Valuable beyond all measure. I cut and prod and burn at it, and I get closer with each session . . . So speak, or don't. Fight, or give in. Regardless, I learn something new about you every day . . . (Laughs) It excites me!"

Prototype: "Thank you."

Dr. Sawyer: "You . . . thank me?"

Prototype: "Absolutely. I learn something new about you every day."

THAT FINAL LINE WHEN THE PROTOTYPE IS MIMICKING DR. SAWYER'S VOICE AHHHHHH!!!!

＿|￣|○ I WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO DR. SAWYER SO BADDDDD!!!!!! He wasn’t around for The Hour of Joy but I hope he suffered.

Leith Pierre: "Normally I'd have Dr. Sawyer do this but he's uhhh . . . out, let's say. So you got me until they find his replacement."

(o ´ _ ` )o The contrast between how Dr. Sawyer speaks to the experiments VS Leith Pierre the Head of Innovation at Playtime Co.

Both dehumanize the experiments in different ways.

Leith Pierre can’t even bother remembering Catnap's real name. He puts on this fake friendly facade. Referring to Catnap as his Pal and Buddy. It's so disingenuous.

Especially when he asks, "Heya Theo! How ya doin' bud?" Pierre could care less about how Catnap feels. It's only when Catnap responds, "The Prototype will save us." That gets Pierre to finally drops the corporate spiel. Admitting to what this place is. Catnap’s prison.

No wonder Catnap worshipped The Prototype after being save when this is what he’s told about his horrific situation.

Leith Pierre: "THIS is your life now. Get used to it."

I absolutely LOVED all the new features for the Grab Pack. The air jet looked SO FUN!!!! Watching people desperately shoot the flare gun against smiling critters in a cramped space WAS SO INTENSE!!! The smiling critter's small growls and whimpers made me sad.

(ʃƪ 〃’▽’〃)♡ The horror in this chapter was INCREDIBLE!!!! While I had fun playing Chapter 2 I remember feeling disappointed by the scares.

CHAPTER THREE HAD ME HORRIFIED!!!! EVERY JUMP SCARE HAD ME FLYING OUT MY CHAIR, THE ATMOSPHERE WAS AMAZING AND AHHHHH THE HOME ORPHANAGE SECTION!!!!!

It reminded me of PT ∑(; °_°) Especially with the radio informing us that in Elliot Ludwig's house it was discovered he HAD THE BODY OF A CHILD IN A DUFFLE BAG!!?!?!?!?!?!

ALSO THAT ONE RADIO'S REVERSE MESSAGE!!!

"8-8-1995 I find your presence intrusive. After all this time you return. You come in here and yet you kill and murder. You pilate and destroy. Your presence was demanded 10 years ago and yet you didn't show up . . . 8-8-1995 You were supposed to be here. Why weren't you here? You missed the event. You missed the meeting. You missed the party. You have no right to be here . . ."

AHHHHHH MOBGAMES KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING WITH THE LIGHTING IN THIS SCENE!!!!!

I thought I was going to see MY BOY 😭💔!!!!!!

Huggy Wuggy is completely fine.

Kissy Missy was so sad and adorable in this chapter. Seeing her stare at the picture and hug herself BROKE MY HEART ( o̴̶̷᷄ _ o̴̶̷̥᷅ )!!! She deserves the world.

Catnap acting like a child and avoiding school 😭💔

Miss Delight was a minor spoiler I knew about since people used her face in their thumbnail. However I was NOT prepared for her to act like a Coil-Head!!!!

Theodore being described as antisocial and having a peculiar relationship with an imaginary friend _(:ì」∠)_.

That “imaginary” friend being The Prototype. Who guided Theodore to help them both escape. Only for Theodore to get electrocuted since he was just a child who didn't know how to safely use a Grabpack.

The Prototype throwing away their chance to escape to save Theodore by bringing him to the staff. Showing The Prototype does care in some way.

Only for Theodore to be later turned Catnap.

THEN the player electrocutes Catnap the SAME way Theodore originally received his injuries. The Prototype comes to “save” Theodore once again but this time by making Catnap a part of him AND CATNAP ACCEPTS SO WILLINGLY (˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ )!!!!

It felt like I was watching a religious experience.

I love Poppy Playtime but I do think they show too much in their trailers. Dog day is a great example but even then his scene was *chef kiss*

All the smiling critters crawling inside Dogday as he desperately screamed in agony and for us to run away left me speechless.

I liked the detail of Dogday calling us angel. I'm excited to see all the AUs people create where we save him.

ALSO THE HOUR OF JOY WAS A BLAST TO WATCH!!!!!

I know Poppy is right that it was just senseless slaughter. How all that death didn't fix or help anyone. Especially when it didn't matter if those killed were innocent or not.

However imagining these characters being painfully experimented on and stripped of their autonomy. Going though years of hell and finally reaching their breaking point. It's hard to not feel good for them getting to release that anger. Even if I know it's wrong.

ALSO I GOT TO SEE MY SECOND FAVORITE CHARACTER BOXY BOO YAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!

THERE WAS SOOOOO MUCH HUGGY WUGGY IMAGERY IN THIS CHAPTER AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I'M GOING TO OVER THINK IT!!!!!! I HAVE NO THEORIES I’M JUST POINTING DETAILS OUT!!!!!!

When hallucinating Huggy Wuggy's face is on the employee training video:

“Join the Innovationists, where the bounds of science are continuously pushed. Or join the Counselors of Playcare, whose diligence and care for our children will help shape a brighter future, just you see.”

“Now every one of you has your part in that future, so should you come back tomorrow feeling unhappy for where you are, or what you’ve done . . . worry not, for your supervisor is here and happy to listen! And . . . should you come back . . . years later . . . your conscience finally getting the better of you. May you descend into the dark and the dust, finding all that awaits you are incomprehensible horrors . . . each hungry for your return, each eager that they might find you. Perhaps they’d smile at you from a shadow, their smiling mouths full of teeth and meat and plastic, watching and waiting patiently for their turn at a warm welcome. Or perhaps they won’t allow you such a time to figure your place in the world you’d left. A world that’s theirs now. Welcome home.”

The video transforms into a manifestation of the player's guilt. Not only for their involvement for whatever they did while working at Playtime Co. but for being gone and returning after ten years.

This is also paired with the player's possible guilt for killing Huggy Wuggy and their fear of him.

The hallucination version being a more exaggerated version of the Chapter 1 Huggy Wuggy vent chase.

When Catnap causes the player to later hallucinate:

Poppy: “Do you even know what’s real?”

Poppy: “No you don’t.”

THEN AT THE END OF THE HALLUCINATION IT SHOWS US THE DAY OF JOY!!!! Which is very odd when you consider two things. We've been told multiple times we weren’t there and during this scene we didn't know what the Hour of Joy was.

So the player hallucinating being in front of Huggy Wuggy’s podium during The Hour of Joy with a large Prototype hand reaching for us IS ODD!!!

ALSO THE TAPE IT SHOWS THAT’S WHERE HUGGY WUGGY WAS DURING THE HOUR OF JOY!!!!!!!

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!?!?!?!

This is just speculation but perhaps the player's memories aren't as trustworthy as we think. After all we still aren't even sure who even sent us the letter or tape in Chapter 1.

"EVERYONE THINKS THE STAFF DISSAPEARED 10 YEARS AGO WE'RE STILL HERE FIND THE FLOWER"

It’s important to point out the characters from Chapter 2 made ZERO appearance during these hallucinations. Mommy Long Legs, PJ Pug-a-Pillar, Bunzo Bunny and the Wack-a-Wuggy.

Is the Huggy Wuggy imagery used because he’s who we encounter at the start of the game?

OR SOMETHING MORE AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

[katyspersonal]

Fears that I've been repressing and not addressing, telling myself to stand tall and "not show weakness", started to slip into my nightmares.

I just want to crawl under my blanket and cry, cry, cry until I've cried myself to sleep... and wake up in a better parallel world, where my paranoia is not eating me alive, where I can feel trust and comfort.