#bomb is the husband. that's just what he's like in my head. he is storing uranium rods in his retro pastel amana-brand fridge.

[hostilecityshowdown]

i just think there should've been adam bomb promos exemplifying his scientific expertise and utter inability to utilise it in any meaningful way after being comic book radiation blasted. also an annual supercard booked around him. actually he should've beat diesel for the-

[the-froschamethyst4]

Teething baby

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Ghost x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Pure tooth rotting fluff, child, married couple, crying, daddy Ghost, flirting, teething child

Ghost was taking care of the baby while Y/n was away for a Girls Trip

He hasn’t been able to do much on the father experience because of him working

But he does his best to take care of her while she is starting to teeth

—————

——————

7:30AM

"So, you have everything? Food, milk and my number in case something happens?"

"Love, don't worry everything will be okay. I have everything under control."

"But I'm just worried, I'll be gone for a week."

"I know and you'll have a blast, you'll honestly probably forget we even exist...you'll run off with a Supermodel and start a new life."

"I would never, don't say that," Y/n hits his chest.

"I know, but everything will be okay, and I'll call if anything happens, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, now, go enjoy the sun in Bora Bore," Ghost said, while he had his hands placed on his wife's waist.

"Okay..." she looked at the playmat that was in the middle of the living room. She walks over and bends down to her baby girl, Luna. "Ohh my baby," she says as she picks up her 3-month-old daughter.

Y/n kissed her daughters' puffy cheeks. "I'll be back Saturday," she told her daughter like she could understand her.

Y/n placed her daughter back on the playmat. She grabbed her bag and stood on her tippy toes to kiss Ghost's lips.

"Bye."

"Bye-bye, love," he kissed her again.

She walked outside and saw her best friend's car sitting in the driveway waiting on her.

"Sorry." Y/n apologized.

"Girl, don't come on, this is going to be EXCITING!! Hi, Simon," she greets Simon.

"Hi, Lydia," Ghost waved bye to both girls.

He back stepped inside the house and looked at his daughter on her stomach hitting the playmat. He rubbed his temple wondering what to do first then he caught a whiff of something.

"Guess my first thing to do is change that bomb of a diaper you have," he said, picking her up and giving her another whiff to make sure it was her, "Ohhhh! Yeah, that's you," he said as he went upstairs to her nursey to change her.

---------

A few minutes later

Ghost sat on the couch with Luna on his bare chest, she was trying to put her fist in her mouth, but Ghost kept moving it from her mouth. She whined anytime he moved it.

"Stop," he grumbles. He was looking down at his phone trying to get advice from Price. Price is a father for 5 and took care of his children when his wife is gone.

Luna is Ghosts and Y/n's first child and sometimes still need help. Ghost was wondering what he did with his kids when his wife was gone?

Price: *We usually have fun like park, waterpark, shopping and sometimes playdate, but since she's still a baby, you probably can't do much*

"Great," he said to himself. "I'll think of something for us to do, while mama is gone."

Ghost looked down at his child and smiled at her. He kissed the top of her head and picked her up. He robbed his nose on hers and kissed her forehead.

"Maybe we can go...to grandmas and grandpas house? Actually, maybe not...they weren't happy when your mama started dating me and married me...maybe not. I do need groceries though," he said to her.

Ghost took her to her nursery and got a small dress on her and placed her in her baby carrier and he got his shirt on, jeans and grabbed some shoes.

He grabbed his keys and drove them to the store. He made sure she was strapped in the car as he drives. Every now and then looked in the rearview mirror to make sure she was okay.

She was asleep, she needed it, she kept Y/n and him up all night, so she needed it along with him. If she stays asleep for a while, he could probably get a nap in as well.

He pulled into a parking spot and got her out of the car. He placed her carrier in the cart and walked in, she was still asleep as they walked through the aisles.

"Mmmm~" Luna stirred in her sleep, he stopped the cart and looked down at her waiting for her eyes to open.

"Hi, baby," he coos.

*WAAAAAAAAAAAA*

Ghost jumps and looks down at her crying face. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he picks her up from the carrier. "You have some strong lungs on you, pretty girl."

"Oh, is everything okay?" A girl came walking around the corner seeing Ghost comforting his daughter.

"Yeah, she's...probably hungry..." he digs through the bag getting a bottle. He brings it to her mouth, but she pushes it away.

"Come on, baby," he says.

"Are you sure maybe, she needs her diaper change?"

"No, she's got a bomb on her, I would know."

Ghost looks at and saw something in her mouth, a peak of something white, he started to worry. "What is that?"

"Oh, maybe I can help, I can help a single father with his child," she pushed herself against him, but Ghost moved away from her.

"I'm married, I'll just call me wife and ask," he put her back down in the carrier and walk out of the store heading back to his car.

He placed her in the car and sat in the backseat with her as he called his wife.

"Ghost? Is everything okay?" She asks, worried about her husband and child.

"I don't know, I went to the store, and she was asleep, but she woke up screaming and crying. She wasn't hungry or needed a change, but I saw in her mouth something white. I couldn't get a good look at it, so I don't know what it is." Ghost panics.

"Simon, check her mouth again," poor Luna was still crying and somewhat hard to hear her. He pulls down her bottom lip and saw the white thing again.

"I think...it's a tooth."

"MY BABY HAS HER FIRST TOOTH AND I'M NOT THERE!!" Y/n yells.

"It's okay, little mamas, I'll take care of everything, I'll get her-"

"Teething supplies are at home, Lydia bought some when I was pregnant with her. She gave them to me at the baby shower."

"Okay..." he looks at her crying face as Y/n hung up and Ghost gave Luna a stuffed baby toy to chew on till they can get home.

---------

"Y/n? What's going on?" Lydia asked.

"Simon, called...Luna has her first tooth coming in."

"OH, THAT'S EXCITING!!" Their other friend Zoe came sitting next to them. "I remember when Xander got his first tooth."

"Simon was a little nervous..." she said as the girls laughed.

"Ladies...I'm-"

"Jack Oscar, the famous Supermodel."

"Oh...Supermodel..." Y/n said, while looking at Jack who was very toned. She put her sunglasses back on her face.

"You...look beautiful," Jack said.

"I'm married," Y/n said, crossing her legs and leaned back in her chair.

---------

Ghost got a teething toy for Luna, it was light pink with different textures on it, she snatched it from him started to teeth it.

He chuckled when she looked satisfied chewing on it. Ghost opened the drawer and saw the different chewing toys for her, some were purple and blue with different textures on them, others were circular and had ridges in them to scratch her gums.

"Wow, that's a lot."

*WAAAAA* Luna threw the pink one and made grabby hands for a new one, Ghost dug around and picked another random one, but she threw that one, she wanted to be picked up.

He picked her up and showed her the drawer filled with teething toys. She made grabby hands to a blue one, he let her get it and she started to chew on it.

He took her back to the playmat and laid her back on it. She smiled rolled back on her stomach. Ghost sat on the couch turning the TV on and watched his daughter to make sure she wouldn't do anything.

Luna stopped chewing and looked back at Ghost, she cried for her daddy's attention. He smiled and crawled to his daughter getting down to her level, he laid on his back as she got up top of his chest and she playfully hit his chest.

"Oh ah, ow, you got me," he jokes with her. She smiles and falls on his chest. Ghost chuckled and then he heard soft snores come from her, he looked at his chest and saw her asleep.

"Well, if you're going to sleep...I am too..." he said, putting his arm behind his head and his hand rested on his daughters back.

--------

10:45PM

Ghost woke to the TV still playing and Luna was still asleep on his chest, he smiles and picked her up gently and slowly so he wouldn't wake her up.

He placed her in her crib draping a blanket on her, he turned on the baby monitor and he was about to close the door and he left the lamp on letting her sleep.

"Good night, little baby," he whispers before shutting the door. He rubbed his temple and heard his phone ping. He looked down and saw some pictures Y/n sent.

Ones where she was at the beach, her legs in the photo of the clear blue scene, her drinking from a coconut, her friends in the back having fun and then one with Jack Oscar in the back holding Lydias waist.

"Is that Jack Oscar?" He asks. "A Supermodel..."

Y/n sent another one, she was in a fishnet dress with a black two piece underneath the fishnet dress, she looked incredibly sexy in it. Ghost smirked knowing he has this beautiful, lady as his wife.

Simon: *You look beautiful*

Wife: *Thank you...is everything okay there?*

Simon: *Just perfect...she's in bed asleep...I gave her a few teething toys and she's been calm since we've been home. I saw Jack Oscar was there*

Wife: *Yeah, he's apparently there for a photoshoot, him and Lydia seemed to be getting along*

Simon: *Supermodel...has he said anything?*

Wife: *He said I was hot...*

Simon: *P.O.S. don't worry love...I got hit it on today by some woman, she called me a 'single father'*

Wife: *Bitch*

Ghost laughed. He got in the middle of the bed and looked down at his phone.

Wife: *Did you get groceries?*

Simon: *No...I'll go back tomorrow. This time I'll be more prepared*

Wife: *Yeah and avoid any thirsty and hungry women*

Simon: *I'll try, love...good night*

Wife: *Good night, Simon*

Ghost turned his phone off and placed it on his charger and looked at the baby monitor seeing Luna was on her back instead of her stomach.

He smiled and closed his eyes finally going to sleep.

---------

1:00AM

*WAAAAAAA* Ghost's eyes shot open, and he looked at the baby monitor seeing Luna was awake, she sat up grabbing the bars of her crib with a blood curdling scream.

"I'm coming, baby," Ghost rubbed his forehead and started to make his way out of his bedroom to her nursery.

He pushed opened the bedroom door and saw her teary eyes.

"Alright, come on, baby girl," he picked her up and took her to the changing table, changing her diaper. Her cries soon stopped when he picked her up. He kissed her forehead and picked her back up and took her downstairs to heat up a bottle for her.

He had her in his arms, he grabbed a milk pouch and poured it in a bottle, he set it in the bottle warmer and looked down at his little girl.

"It'll be ready in a minute, baby," he said, kissing her puffy, tear stained cheeks.

The machine beeped, letting him know the bottle was warmed up. He tested the milk on his skin seeing if it was hot or just right, and it was perfectly fine.

He sat down on the couch, leaning back and propping her up so he could feed her. She suckled on the bottle as she looked up at him.

The bottle was done, and he placed the bottle next to him on the couch and put a towel under Luna's chin to catch her spit up. He patted her back and she spit up on the towel.

"That's why I did that, you spit up every time and half of the time we never catch it," he said, wiping her face with the clean end of the towel and tossed the towel in the laundry room.

He took her back upstairs but to his bed, he let her stay on Y/n's side of the bed. She rolled on her back and Ghost smiled down at her. He placed his hand on her stomach and closed his eyes.

--------

Friday 7:10AM

Luna was in Ghost's arms, he tossed her in the air and caught her, he wanted to hear her giggles.

"I'M HOME!!" Y/n announces into the house. Luna giggled and Ghost stood up quickly.

"Welcome home," he said, kissing her lips and kissing Luna's forehead.

"Thank you, handsome."

"Wow...your skin...it's beautiful." He chuckles.

"Thank you, now...I want my baby girl," she turns to Luna with a big smile and taking her from Ghost's grasp. Luna giggled when she was being held by her mama.

"How was it?" He asked.

"I should be asking you that...it was amazing."

"Same, I need to spend some more time with my lovely baby girl," he said, kissing Y/n's lips and his daughter temple.

"You understand how hard it is?"

"I never doubt you, love. I know how hard it is and I try to be there for the both of you but-"

"Work...I know..." She smiles and kisses his lips.

"I'm sorry, love."

"For what?"

"For not always helping you."

"It's okay, Ghost, I know and understand..."

"Anyways, come on let me tell you everything that happened on the trip."

"Okay," he smiles

[hai7ani]

WHAT'S A HEART WORTH? haitani rindou

nsfw (smut) mdni, nothing happens

home collection | playlist

part i / my baby here on earth, showed me what my heart was worth.

Rindou does not understand why people would not want to go home after work.

Like the accountant who stays at the office long after clock out hour. He's finishing up someone else's paperwork willingly while actively ignoring the constant buzz of his phone that lights up a photo of a woman showing up peace signs paired with a beautiful smile which only says 'girl[space]friend' but not her name. He shuts off his phone and continues his paperwork instead of heading home (and also earning free OT cash that he'll probably just spend on some Asahi during payday) . . .

Or the newlywed who slips off the silver band on his ring finger and greets the receptionist with a bright smile -- Ishikawa-san, or Riko-chan, as he likes to call her -- the moment he steps into the front doors of the office. He enjoys leaning on the counter and telling her about the plans he and his friends have made for her that night on a random morning while stuffing the promise with his wife deep into the pocket of his perfectly ironed suit.

"Work's been rough lately, ya wanna grab a drink? Release some steam? Oh, it's just a few of us guys who are my friends, and you. Bring some of your friends as well, yeah? Please come, treat's on us. We're going to Shangri-La after work, 'kay?"

It's especially the father with a polaroid of his 6 year old son and 11 year old daughter that both are not smiling in tucked away in his wallet who rushes off to an izakaya or some club somewhere in the middle of Kabukichō straight after work with a bunch of his lame and nasty ol' colleagues who are somehow also married men. Just drinking and smoking the night away with dirty minds that think of nothing but sticking their dicks into the pussies of younger, sweeter women working by the bar.

While Haitani Rindou is on his way to clock in to work, he passes by the reception table. Ishikawa-san sees him and gives a small bow with a professional smile, before swiftly returning to the conversation with the newlywed. She bends over the desk and starts fiddling with the bright orange tie hanging off the newlywed's collar. There's a name-tag pinned to his tie that reads Ito Haruki.

Ito-kun, or as Ishikawa-san likes to call him -- Haruki-senpai -- is leaning his head on his left arm, cheek squashed a little as he's shamelessly ogling at the loose button that's about to burst open on Ishikawa-san's blouse.

There's a few people in line ahead of Rindou who are clocking in as well. He supposes it is no harm to listen in on their conversation. They weren't even trying to be discreet about it, anyway.

"It's a nice tie, senpai. Where'd you get it from?"

Rindou catches the sudden change in Ito Haruki's demeanour. "Oh. Just . . . Went out shopping last weekend and got it for myself. Looks real nice, ain't it?"

Liar.

Rindou and you were out shopping two weeks ago when he spots the same man holding the hand of his new bride as they went searching for neckties together in the Aeon department store. "I think this'll look great on you, Haruki, no?" His wife brings the displayed tie up to his neck and smile.

"Looks bomb, honey."

When admiring himself in the mirror, he sees the B&M department's Haitani Rindou looking at him from behind. The two men catches eye in the reflection. Ito-kun was sweating buckets, afraid of getting his cover blown off, but you suddenly tugged on Rindou's sleeve, breaking his attention and asking for his opinion on the dress that you were looking to buy for work.

He turns around and leaves with you, not looking at Ito-kun nor his wife as he pretends like he doesn't know the married couple in the same store shopping for neckties, nor the scandalous, nasty things the husband has been doing at work.

And right now, while he's waiting in line to clock in for work, he's still pretending like he knows nothing. There's no point in saying he knows Ito's lying, anyway. It doesn't benefit him one bit.

But to Ito Haruki, Rindou running his mouth to people and letting everyone find out he's been married this whole time to a woman he does not love . . .

And letting his wife find out he has been openly bringing women and girls to hotel rooms and screwing them with his mates behind her back.

It's a risk he cannot take.

Ito-kun who is now standing tall and straight calls out to Rindou, seemingly trying to butter his colleague up to keep his mouth shut. If he starts getting close with me, there's no way he'll snitch. He'll understand.

"Yo, Haitani. Ya free tonight? We're going up to Shangri-La with a few of my friends in Chiyoda. We're having a few ladies over as well, if yer' interested." Ito-kun wiggles his eyebrows and Ishikawa-san stifles a laugh with the back of her hand.

Rindou does not spare both of them a glance.

"I'm married."

He says it like it's meant to be. He's a married man who's actually a decent human being with bills to pay, love to give and a wife to go home to. You just wouldn't understand. And he moves forward with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Tch, fuckin' snob. He's married? So am-" Haruki stops himself from running his mouth any further with a cough. "Who does he think he is? Just 'cause he's on the line for some promotion? I can do better than him, can't I, Riko-chan? I'm in HR, after all."

"Of course you can, Haruki-senpai. You're the best, after all . . . At all things."

With their lewd whispering and hushed laughters echoing in the space behind him, he slots his employee card into the machine and thinks of all the married men with a wife and children waiting for them to come home and watch Why Did You Come to Japan? on the TV together.

Haitani Rindou could never understand them.

And perhaps it's just him . . .

Guess it really is just him.

Him who thinks there's nothing more relieving than going straight home to his wife, his family, instead of wasting another second at work talking to idiots he don't share the same interests and can never communicate with.

They disgust him.

Working a 9-5 itself is already tiring, so why choose to cause himself more suffering by willingly spending time with literal failed fucking nutjobs who don't respect their family, or anyone, in that matter. He thinks its rather pointless to be with them when he can be at home with you.

At home.

With you.

At home is kicking off his expensive Jimmy Choo's that you bought for him with your last paycheck by the entrance and throwing his goddamned briefcase on the counter, followed by his car keys (a Mazda) and the resident's keycard.

At home is saying ただいま and seeing your figure still clad in your work clothes and an apron, standing in the kitchen stirring up a boiling pot of his favourite miso soup with curry cooking on the stove beside you. It's nothing misogynistic or anything -- Rindou can cook fairly well himself. There's just an unspoken rule between the two of you where whoever comes home first makes dinner. Both of you are working adults in damned Tokyo with a workplace culture of utter hell and bullshit, so it's not everyday you get to go out for dinner at some fancy restaurant downtown. Plus, there's something about cooking and eating dinner together with him that makes you so happy.

Rindou eyes the mat you're standing on and sighs a breath of relief.

"Baby," you call from the kitchen and he makes his way over to you sluggishly. "Taste." you feed him a spoon of the flavourful soup and he smacks his lips. Once, twice.

". . . Needs a little more salt." He reaches for the sodium and you take one sip yourself, "yeah, 's kinda dull."

You see him shake the salt container a bit before pushing you back behind him and grabbing the spoon in your hand to stir the soup. He makes sure you're still standing on the mat.

"Can you help me add more wakame? Been cravin' it a lot lately." He simply hums and tears open another packaging of the wakame on the countertop and throws it in.

And you simply let him take control, opting to step back and take this moment to watch -- or more like ogle, -- at your husband with the sleeves of his stripped Uniqlo dress-shirt rolled up to his elbows, the back of it messily tucked in his pants, and the gelled hairstyle you combed for him this morning nowhere in sight. You also smell the remains of tobacco on him -- he's been smoking again.

You furrow your brows at your latest observation, though you can't deny it's pretty endearing to see him like this.

Completely, utterly at home. And absolutely yours.

You're also sure now -- that watching him like this definitely makes you happy. Domestic and comfortable.

"Yeah, this tastes better." He turns to cup a palm under your chin and feeds you a spoon of miso. A drop falls onto his palm and he simply wipes it off on a washcloth. You hum, it does taste better. "Thanks, Chef Rin." He finishes off the soup you didn't manage to and throws the spoon in the sink to wash later.

He pinches your nose, pulls you by your neck to get you closer, and places a kiss on the crown of your head before pulling open the fridge. It's also one of his ways of saying he's home other than the usual greeting of ただいま.

You giddily lean against the kitchen island, untying the apron and laying it beside you. A pout suddenly forms at your lips and you blow raspberries while slowly unbuttoning the top of your dress, finally able to catch a break and get rid of the uncomfortable clothing.

Rindou looks back at you from your reaction and you tell without him asking.

"My clothes' gettin' tight. Hate it so much."

"We'll go shopping this weekend."

You nod, and he turns back to the fridge, though from the corner of your eye you see that he's been bowing down and staring at the shelves a little too long.

"Wha-"

"Where'd my KitKat go?"

Your fingers pause in their actions.

It's kinda funny how a simple question of your husband suspecting the whereabouts of his chocolate snack bar can make your mind travel to two nights back. It was on Monday at 2:41am when you'd snuck out of bed (out of his arms), and stole his last remaining KitKat in the fridge.

Rindou looks at you and you look back at him.

"Dunno."

Thief.

" . . . I wonder where's the Buenos I bought-"

Not the Buenos.

And suddenly you find yourself clinging for dear life onto your husband, with the best puppy eyes you can muster glossily looking up at him as if you're secretly trying to convey a message, to which he only scoffs at and starts peeling your arms off him.

"Baby, baby. Anythin' but the Buenos. They're mine."

"So was my KitKat."

"You can't blame me! It just looked so delicious I had to absolutely devour it-"

"-the damn Buenos are mine now."

"No."

.

.

.

You spend the next 20 minutes bickering with him about who holds final custody over the bag of mini Buenos sitting in the fridge. He reasons that because you ate his kitkat, and he was also the one who bought the Buenos for you, that he gets to keep it now. You argue that the fucking KitKat was hypnotising you into eating it, resulting in him losing his last KitKat bar because of the KitKat itself, and not because of you, that you get to keep your Buenos that he bought for you all to yourself and he gets nothing in compensation.

You both end up fucking in the bathtub afterwards.

"You're too noisy."

Gasp. Moan. Whimper.

"So are you."

Scratch. Squeeze. Bite.

Rindou is gentle when he holds you as you slowly regain your senses and shift to a more comfortable position. His dick is soft against your thigh and you help him wash off the sticky fluid.

You feel him growing hard again in your hand as he presses a kiss to your cheek and you curl the other arm around his neck.

He helps you align yourself with him and there's a soft blush on your cheeks when he bottoms out, "doc' said it's good, right?" "Yeah."

Yup, Doctor Fujita’s words is absolutely the reason why you’re spending the next hour making love with your husband in the bathtub.

(You just love him so much.)

It's later that night, after you've both finished your little session in the shower and dinner when Rindou brings up a topic neither of you have ever discussed about in the whole three years of your marriage.

He slaps your thigh, telling you to scoot over on the couch and immediately drops down next to you (or more like on top of you) when all you've made was just about a centimetre of space for him. A literal half of his body is on top of your legs, crushing down your thighs and you bite his bulky bicep in retaliation with a quiet asshole coming out of your mouth, trying your hardest to crawl your way out under his heavy, muscular body (that was an overstatement -- he just got back up and waited for you to move over so he could sit down properly). He hisses while rubbing the area you bit and simply stares at you in amusement.

Though annoying, he's careful with your body. He's made sure not to be rough with you and his orbs scans over your form to make sure you're not actually in pain.

You lift your legs up to rest in his lap and he moves his hands to massage your feet. You've been complaining about having feet pain lately, and it's probably one of the many side effects. He makes it a mental note to do research on it and how to help you feel better.

When he sees that you're sitting comfortably and back to focusing on the show playing on the TV screen again, he decides to fire the shot.

"I'm gonna quit my job." Rindou bluntly states.

All that shit in his mundane ass voice too: the one he uses when he's still an immature, younger and grouchier version of himself, fighting with opponents that don't impress him.

You hurriedly press pause on the remote to the show you're currently watching,

How to Get Away with Murder.

and you stare at him blankly.

You might start taking actual notes from Annalise Keating-san, you think.

"What?" You try retracting your legs away from him but his grip is tight as he continues massaging your ankle. You're not in the mood anymore, but it feels comfortable, so you leave them there.

"I'ma quit my job." Rindou closes his eyes and rests his head back on the soft beneath.

"Why?"

"One, 'm sick of it. Two, 's not what I like. Three, my boss' an asshole . . . So I'm quitting."

"And what will you do afterwards?"

"Gonna stay home."

"And?"

"Tsk. What? I've made 'nuff to support us for at least, what, like 20 years. Les' jus' stay home, smoke weed, I'll maybe start to DJ again. Or if you don't wanna, fine. We'll jus' book a one way to Switzerland or like, I don't know, fucking Canada or something and never come back. Heard from a few of the guys in my department 's cheap living there. And there's Singapore too, which is family friendly, I might look into it. What do you think?"

A beat.

And another.

The both of you break into a fit of laughter and you don't stop after . . . three minutes, to be exact.

It's unrealistic for an average salaryman in this economy to be earning an income enough to support his family for 20 years after without a job. Even 10 years is over-exaggerating. It's even more unrealistic that it's happening in Tokyo. In Rindou's case, an average Japanese salaryman who works in a position in his company which handles business and marketing. What made you laugh even harder is the fact Rindou had just brought up three major, rich and expensive countries in the world as cheap places to live in as a family.

The guy you married deserves a beating right now. Maybe another bite, too. This time at the shoulder. Who knows?

You crawl into his lap and squint your eyes, "you sound like you're asking to be single right now. Weed? With me right now? You're definitely asking for it."

"Was jus' jokin', baby. Never doin' that again. Don't divorce me."

"Thought your stupid ass could fool me? Thought you were still 18? You're not funny. You're quitting an office job in this economy, and you're- you're tellin' me, to stay home with you 'n," you pause to laugh, "'n to smoke weed 'n DJ with your ass."

He lands his palms on your hips and rubs up and down affectionately, "’Think I'm funny? At least I think I am," His thumbs subconsciously move to your stomach and traces soft circles on the skin.

"You are. Kinda." You comb through his soft hair with your fingers and push them back. He's smirking now. "Was not lyin' when I said I hate my fuckin' job. Guess I could turn to stand-up comedy if smoking weed and being an at-home DJ doesn't work out."

"I'll kill you."

Rindou brings out another fit of giggles in you and when it slowly dies down, you gaze into his purple orbs with a soft smile.

You cup both hands on his cheeks, "don't smoke so much, baby." You peck his lips twice before moving to smooch his cheeks. "'S bad for me."

"Yeah, sorry. Couldn't help it." Rindou blinks tiredly at your form and wraps you in his arms, his head moving down lower to rest on your chest, placing soft kisses at the tender, soft mounds. He suddenly remembers you've also been complaining about having some breast changes too. He's gotta bring that up to Fujita-san in the next visit, along with your feet issue.

“When’s your next appointment with Fujita again?”

“This Friday at 3. I’m taking the half day off to go, are you coming?”

Rindou is silent as he goes over his schedule for Friday in his head and- Fuck. He’s got an important meeting at 2 that doesn’t end till 4.

“I don’t think I can make it.” You hum softly, “it’s okay. I’ll call you.” Your fingers move to tangle themselves in his purple locks.

“I’ll try to come after I finish my meeting, so remember to tell her about your feet. That could be serious. Your breasts too.” “Okay.”

Rindou stares at your growing stomach, and relishes in how you've been getting more and more pretty each day with the love of you two combined and forming within you. (You've always been pretty. Just extra pretty when you're pregnant with his baby.)

You're aware of how he's been getting stressed out lately. Workload's been piling up, and with the current ongoing promotion offer that he's been nominated for, you know Rindou's just had to work extra harder, put in a little more effort. After all, a promotion in his company is no joke, whether it's a shit company or not. A huge incentive in his salary that can cover a lot more things like saving up for your baby's future education, some personal savings, emergency funds, and being able to invest in safer furnitures in the house to protect you -- his pregnant wife, and soon, the baby. He'll also get more authority in his company, which can lead to having more connections that will ultimately help him create more opportunities in life.

Your husband is a hard-worker. Not so much in his teenage years, perhaps, but he definitely is one now in the present, and you know he can never pass up an opportunity for a raise. After all, things are getting expensive, and raising a child with you in this city isn't anywhere near cheap.

He's past that life, he once swore to you. All the fighting and the drinking and the clubbing; behind alleyways and high up in the skyscrapers where he and Ran would be busy blowing his fathers' money off back in his city, the 2000s Roppongi with many people that he never contacts anymore. Not even Shion, but you know Rindou misses him a lot. They were best friends after all. You've watched them both grow up together from boys to men since you were kids.

"Rindou?" He hums. You press your thumb into a sore spot on his shoulder that he never told you about and you feel him relaxing under your touch.

"Les' go somewhere together, when you're done with your promotion. I'll jus' get some time off sayin' I'm too pregnant, or somethin'. They'll understand. Unlike you, the people at work actually likes me." You suggest, and he pinches your thigh. "You gettin' smug?" "Kinda."

Rindou laughs into your neck. "Yeah, 'kay. Where you wanna go?"

"'Was thinkin' of Hokkaido. I've never been there before," your pointer finger traces random twirly shapes onto his bare back. "Oh, maybe you could take me to Taiwan. One of the girls at work went with her hubby once 'n she said 's real nice there. Please, baby."

"But international flights are expensive right now. You sure you wanna go overseas?"

Crystals start to form at the corners of your eyes and your nose is getting red. "Really wanna go."

This pregnancy is gonna turn him into a saint. "'Kay, babe. Taiwan it is. We'll go to Taiwan, yeah? Don't cry." He kisses your lips. And he does it again and again until you stop sniffling. He wipes away your tears, too. And he pulls back to look at you. All pouty and gorgeous in his arms.

Haitani Rindou sits in the living room with his pregnant wife on his lap rambling his ear off about the cool things one of the girls at work saw in Taipei and he's left dumbfounded because . . .

The men at work? They're never going to experience this kind of life. The domesticity with you. The soft kisses shared before you fall asleep together in bed. The kisses placed on your belly when the baby's kicking a little too hard and you can't sleep. And soon he's going to feel a new type of warmth blossoming in his chest where he comes home after getting asked to go to fucking Shangri-La again, and sees you feeding your baby milk on the couch, waiting for him. Excited to share a new story about what happened with you and your baby earlier.

"She just said her first word, Rin." "What?" "C'mon, say it for your papa, now." The baby wiggles around in her mother's arms and looks at her father, who is now hovering over her and has a warm hand placed on the back of her head. She blinks, and smiles. "Ba-ba."

And suddenly he feels like the happiest man alive.

"Thank you."

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading ≽ܫ≼

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Congrats on 1k!!

for the ask game!

J: “dont touch me, get away from me”

in Someone who cares

hurt/comfort

book

and if I can make a special request that Eddie is the hurt party?

Thank you so much! 🥰 Always thrilled to write more about my favorite family.

Some dreams come true

Words: 954

Rated: G

Tags: Modern AU; No UD AU; Established relationship; Married Steddie; Steve is Dustin’s dad; Author Eddie; Hurt/comfort; Fluff

Notes: Set in the same universe as Someone who cares

“Eddie?” Dustin knocks on the door of the study. It’s slow and hesitant, and that alone is enough to tell Steve that the kid was not exaggerating when he called and told him to get home immediately. “It’s me. I’ve brought Dad. Please open the door?” 

There’s no answer. 

“Damn,” Steve murmurs. “What the hell happened?” 

Dustin scowls.

“No idea. He opened that package that arrived for him, and then he went all silent and weird and locked himself in there, like- … oh, do you think it’s a bomb?” 

“A what?” Steve squawks. “What the fuck, Dustin? Of course it’s not a- who’d even send us a bomb?” 

“Dunno, grandpa?” Dustin is wibbling in his spot, weirdly elated with the notion. “He must still be pretty damn pissed, right? I mean, last time you saw him, Eddie punched him in the-” 

Steve groans. “Jesus Christ, Dustin, I promise it's not a bomb. Go do your homework or whatever, I'll handle this.” 

Dustin deflates, but sulks off towards his room, grumbling under his breath. Steve sighs and turns back to the door.

“Eds? I'm not leaving, just so you know.” 

For a few seconds, everything stays silent. Then, something shuffles and footsteps approach. The lock clicks, but the door doesn't open. When Steve steps into the tiny room, Eddie is already back in his desk chair, elbows bracketed on his knees, head almost level with his hands. He's holding something. A book.

A familiar mix of feelings stirs in Steve's guts. Alarm. Worry. The overwhelming need to find out who hurt his husband and slowly tear them limb from limb.

“Eddie? What's-” 

“Don't touch me. Get away from me.” 

Eddie doesn't raise his voice. Steve catches himself wishing he had, because the quiet brokenness of the words is somehow infinitely more scary. His feet stop dead in their tracks, halfway between Eddie and the door. From where he's standing, he recognizes the book Eddie has in his hand. 

“Author's copies arrived,” Eddie says, almost as if he read his mind. His head jerks weakly at the package sitting by his feet, holding a stack of identical books, all bearing Eddie’s name on the cover. 

“But…” Steve mutters while his brain is still parsing through the situation. “But that's amazing, honey. You've been looking forward to this so long, why-” 

“I know,” Eddie groans. The book flops to the ground as he brings his hands up to cup his own face. “I was. I am. It's just that …” 

He exhales a long, shaky breath. 

“It's all real now, Stevie. It's here. And- … and next week, it's gonna be in stores, and everybody will be able to pick one up and what if it sucks? I've been dreaming of this for as long as I can think of, but that's all it was - a dream. But now … I dunno, I'm just … I'm scared.” 

“Hey,” Steve whispers, sinking to his knees to bring them face level. “Hey, look at me.” 

Eddie does, big brown eyes peering out from between long fingers. Steve chuckles, reaching for those hands to pull them down into Eddie’s lap. 

“Do you remember the pizza party?” 

Eddie blinks at him. “Huh? What are you-” 

“That was the first time I wanted to kiss you. I had only known you for a few weeks, but somehow, I was already falling in love with you.” Steve smiles, running his fingers over the familiar shape of Eddie's hands and arms, tracing the black ink of his tattoos. “I didn't do it then. Do you know why?” 

“Because Mike puked on your sofa?” 

“Yes,” Steve says automatically. Sputters. “I mean no. I mean- God, you're such an asshole.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches. Steve sighs. 

“The reason I didn't do it,” he clarifies, “was because I was scared. Because I thought I'd rather spend a lifetime dreaming of having you than turning it into a reality and somehow messing it up. But you know what?” 

“Hm?” Eddie hums, melting into him as Steve leans in to touch their foreheads together. “What's that, love?” 

Steve smiles at the pet name, pressing a kiss to the dimple at the corner of Eddie’s mouth. 

“I'm so incredibly fucking glad we got our shit together in the end,” he says. “Because the reality of it is so much better than anything I ever could've imagined.”

“So much fucking better,” Eddie whispers against his lips, and then neither of them says anything for a while. When they pull out of the kiss, Steve presses the fallen book into Eddie’s hands. 

“This'll be fantastic,” he promises, smoothing over the wrinkle in Eddie’s brow with his lips before he can argue. “You just wait. Now, come down and help me with dinner? Dustin’s convinced you have a bomb in here.” 

Eddie snorts a laugh and stands from his chair, carefully putting the book back with the others before slipping his hand into Steve’s. “What, seriously? And here you are, wondering why I’m doubting myself. With the things that kid comes up with, he should be the author in this family, not me. A bomb, fucking hell!” 

Steve laughs softly as they make their way down the stairs. “You just wait until that book blows up and it turns out he was right.” 

“Yeah, as if,” Eddie says, but there’s no bitterness left in his voice. He smacks a noisy kiss to Steve’s temple, pulling him into the kitchen with a dorky spin and twirl. “Keep dreaming, honey.” 

He definitely will, Steve thinks as they get to work between a constant stream of bickering and kisses. His dreams have a habit of becoming true, after all, and he's no longer afraid of that. 

More celebration ficlets

[sofasoap]

In your arms

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x F!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Comforting your husband after a nightmare.

Connecting to event of “Death, Comes easily” 

Warning: Mature theme. Nightmare discussion ( related to PTSD ), discussion of death. Angst.

A/N : This was an extension of ANOTHER drabble/comment I wrote a while ago thanks to my midnight muse @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world ( seriously please let me sleep LOL )

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic  “The Favorite MacTavish”” which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background

 “masterlist” for more prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded universe

You stare up at the ceiling. Eyes wide open. Fidgeting away. 

It’s three in the morning. But you are not sleepy at all. Even after a solid twelve hour afternoon shift. 

Oh, you should add more carrots into the twin’s lunch box….

You started making a mental listing of what you need to get from the grocery store tomorrow. Maybe that will tire your brain out and finally get some sleep. 

That wallpaper is peeling off slightly beside the window… need to get Simon to fix that.. 

Is Johnny and Emma coming over for lunch this Sunday?

Crap the electricity bill is due soon….

Ok, this isn’t working. Your mind is even more stimulated with all these questions and a list of chores in your head. 

Tucking yourself into the armchair beside the fireplace you just rekindled, armed with a generous mug of hot chocolate ( and maybe with a sneaky dash of whisky in it ) you set yourself about getting back into the historical romance novel you started a year ago but never had the time to finish. 

Turn to the left, fluffing up the pillow. Nope. Not helping either. You knew that extra cup of coffee after lunch wasn’t such a good idea.

Letting out a sigh, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get any sleep that night.

Swinging your leg over the side of the bed, you shuffle towards the lounge chair beside the window, grabbing the hand knit throw over blanket Gaz made for you last winter. Draping it over your shoulder, and quietly slipping out of the room, without waking Simon up, down towards the kitchen. 

The heavy footsteps become more frantic, and you hear room doors opening and closing, and the person in question is running down the staircase. 

Barely three pages in, you heard stomping noise coming from the bedroom upstairs.

You set the book down,looking up, frowning. Is one of the twins awake? But the noise sounds like it’s coming from your shared bedroom with your husband. 

The next second, you saw Simon, shoulders uptight, breathing erratically, with tears streaming down his face. As soon as he spotted you curling up in the armchair, his beautiful brown eyes widened. Mixture of panic and relief evident in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight. 

Simon calls out to you. Voice quivering, like a scared little child. 

Extending your hands, silently asking him what he needs.

He stares at you for the moment, before slowly moving towards you, kneeling down on both knees, enveloping his large, warm hand around yours.

“… Just want to feel you. Knowing you are here.” He whispered in a deep rumbling voice, tinged with sadness. “That you are real.” his voice broke into a sob. “ That you are alive.”

“ Oh love…” You immediately knew he had one of his nightmares again.  Flash back to the bombing incident. Death of his mother and brother’s family.

“I woke up, I couldn’t find you, you weren’t there in bed, I thought the worst…” grabbing onto your hands tighter as he poured out his fear, “I thought I failed you… Just like I failed my family… I got you killed.. And the twins.. The team…” He buried his face into your lap, trying hard to control his emotion.

It pains you to see him in such a vulnerable state. A side he never shows. Not even to his most trusted team mate.

But here, in front of you, he’s not the ruthless, fearsome Ghost.

Here, he is just Simon Riley, your companion, beloved husband. The men you trust with all your life.

And he loves and trusts you enough to pour his heart and fear out to you. Laying it bare. 

Pulling him up to a stand, giving him a kiss on the lip. “Come on, you should get some rest.”

Leaning forward you place a kiss on the back of his head, whispering into his ears, trying to reassure him, “I am here love. I am not going anywhere…” pulling one of your hands out from his grasp, you stroke his hair lightly, “You haven’t failed us. You saved my life that day. Both of us came home safe and sound to the children and the team at the end, right?”

Cupping his face and lifting his head up, you smiled gently, “It’s all behind us now Simon.” 

“You're not coming to bed with me?”  He asked in a small voice. 

Looking at the fireplace, “I can’t leave it burning overnight. Besides, I couldn’t sleep anyway, that’s why I am down here, reading a book.” pointing to the book and drink, abandoned on the side table. 

“Can I stay with you?”

That is how the twins found the two of you the next morning, sleeping on the lounge, wrapped up in thick blankets, with you cocooned in Simon’s embrace, with a contented smile on both of your faces. 

The sweet twins woke both you and Simon up, with simple breakfast and tea all ready on the table for both of you.

tag:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@floral-force

@homicidal-slvt

@kaplerrr

@siilvan

[kirakiwiwrites]

Hi friends! So it’s been a minute lol. Why? A whole slew of reasons like migraines, a new job, traveling, carpal tunnel, and good old fashioned writer’s block. Are we still working on a one shot for Obsidian Castle and another new multi chapter story? Yes. Three actually. We will be posting new stuff soon. Thanks so much for all the love from Obsidian Castle too. So happy everyone has enjoyed it!

Anyway, we thought to get out of the little rut, we would participate in the @klaine-word-scramble. It looks like so much fun and if you haven’t checked it out you should! So here is our first one, just a very short one shot full of cute fluff. The theme for most of these will probably be future fics like this one. We will also post these to FF.net and A03

Thank you to all who organized it and come up with all the fun scrambles!

Disclaimer: We do not own Glee, the characters, or quotations from the show.

(Aug 1 scramble - 979 words)

Craft day:

“Do we need more glue?”

Blaine scratched at his head before grimacing as he realized his hands were covered in glue. now his hair was also covered in glue. The stuff was everywhere. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” He scanned the directions while he wiped at his head. “If we add more glue, things could get worse.”

His eight year old son Michael huffed a sigh and poked at the goopy substance in the bowl. “What about more glitter?”

Blaine shook his head slowly as he tried to make sense of the mess they had made. “Oh god no. No more glitter.”

It looked as though a glitter bomb had exploded in their kitchen. There was glitter on everything: the floor, the cabinets, them. Glitter had even somehow ascended to the top of the fridge and landed amongst the mousetraps they stored up there. It was quite a mess.

Michael blew the dark curls he inherited from his father out of his eyes and glitter puffed out and slowly and floated down. “Did we put enough activator in?” He spread his fingers and purple glittery glue gunk made strings across them. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be so sticky.”

Blaine made a noise of agreement before he realized two of the pages were stuck together. Carefully, he peeled them apart and saw they had missed a step.

“Okay, kiddo. I figured it out. Grab that spatula and stir until you think your arms are gonna fall off.”

Michael did as his father told him and stirred, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “What do I do if my arms do fall off?”

“Use some of the glue and stick them back on. I’m going to clean up a bit before—“

“What did you two do to my kitchen!” Kurt exclaimed as he clutched his face in horror. He stood in the doorway, his keys and a brown paper bag in one hand. “Did you blow up a disco ball?”

Blaine winced. “Oh, hey honey.” He gave his husband his most charming smile. He cleaned faster. “You’re home early!”

A little giggle came from their six year old daughter who had spent the morning with Kurt. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she took in the mess. “Mikey looks like the shiny troll from that movie!” She set down a matching brown paper bag and skipped over to the counter where her brother was stirring vigorously. “I want to do it too!”

Kurt set his bag down quickly beside his daughter’s and gingerly picked his way through the disaster zone. “Tracy! Wait! At least change your clothes first!” He sighed and accepted a kiss on the cheek from his husband. She was already elbow deep in the concoction and chuckling maniacally.

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Blaine said brightly. “I’m going to have all this cleaned up before dinner. How did it go making candles?”

Kurt leaned tiredly on the counter, then remembered it was covered in slime and stood upright. “We actually had fun until Tracy decided things were too calm. She decided she didn’t want a normal cat shaped candle, but she wanted a headless cat shaped candle that would bleed when she burned it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Blaine mumbled as he picked out some sparkley glue from his arm hair. “Has she been watching Wednesday again?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed a dish towel. After wetting it, he began to carefully wipe the glue off of Blaine’s arm. “I don’t know but I’m having a hell of a time encouraging her to express her creativity while also not making the other children around her cry.”

Blaine thanked him for the glue and eyed the room with another grimace. “It’s a precarious dance for sure. You do a wonderful job.”

Kurt smiled and kissed him just as their children screamed in triumph.

“Dad! Papa! Look! We made slime!” Michael held up a blob of purple goo studded with glitter.

“Can I eat it?” Tracy asked as she squeezed some through her fingers.

“No!” Blaine yelled in alarm at the same time Kurt yelled, “Absolutely not! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth!”

Tracy glared at them for ruining her fun, but then got distracted by the shiny slime. Michael gave her a very brotherly look that said he considered her only a step above an animal.

“Why are you so weird?”

“Am not! You’re weird!”

“You’re the one trying to eat slime!”

“I just asked! I wasn’t gonna do it!”

Kurt took a deep breath and released it as Blaine continued to clean the kitchen. “Kids! Enough!” Kurt interjected, hands on his hips. “Mikey, don’t call your sister weird. Tracy, don’t ever eat anything unless you know it’s food. I will not have fighting on craft day!”

Blaine nodded solemnly in silent support as he scrubbed at a dried pile of goop. He accidentally upset a pile of glitter that puffed out in a cloud and caused him to sneeze.

Michael shrugged and continued to stretch the slime out and whirl it like a jump rope between his hands. Tracy stared down at the small bit in her hand. “I wasn’t gonna eat it,” she grumbled.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. “Alright. Help me and Papa clean up the kitchen and we will all go out for pizza. Deal?”

This was met with cheers of agreement from the two children who took wet paper towels offered to them by Kurt and set to work wiping up glitter. Kurt smiled at how determined they were and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

“Thank you,” Blaine said with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replied as he started sweeping. “But buckle up because next craft day is painting and Tracy had me take her by the cemetery for ‘inspiration’.”

“Of course she did. But it’s fine because in the Hummel-Anderson house, we support weird.”

“Absolutely.”

*words used from the scramble:

Candles (pretty sure this is the unscrambled word but shhh don’t tell lol)

scan (scanned)

land (landed)

ascend (ascended)

clean

dances (dance)

deal

[loserchildhotpants]

I just wanna say, I ADORE your fic “What Used to be Mine”. I reread it whenever I just need to feel a cathartic ache and relief. So I have a numbered list of thoughts that have popped into my head each time I do:

the title is a reference to is a reference to the “Healing Incantation” from Tangled, right? Have you seen any of the animated series? Because it’s set post Movie and there’s a “Decay Incantation” (something something every light has a shadow etc) that makes me think of Dean in this fic, and how he’s mentions he realized he was “rotting” in his room. The Incantation goes “Wither and decay, End this destiny, Break these earthly chains, And set the spirit free, The spirit free” * so…yeah, in my head he’s been chanting this at himself the whole fic basically haha ☹️ (also the healing spell is a bit more…selfish? And the decay spell is more…sweeping/broad? “Give back what’s mine vs Set it Free” hmmm 🤔)

Also with the title, it makes me think of “She Used to be Mine” from the musical Waitress, it’s a lament of the titular Waitress (who loves baking pies for her diner and that’s the only positive thing she has left she at this point) over the loss of who she used to be, how life and her job and her dirt bag abusive leech of a husband have drained the life and vitality from herself. She’s mourning the person she was, that she considers separate and dead from herself now, but the issue is she’s pregnant now and she doesn’t know what to do, so she’s singing to her unborn baby (the line “…but now I got you. You’re not what I asked for” is to the baby) that, “that old me would have been a good mom to you, but not me” and a faint hope maybe this will situation will make her try and not just accept her life now. I don’t know that Dean has ever liked himself enough to be nostalgic for who he used to be but it does give me Dean&Jack feelings, maybe the nostalgia for old Dean was a Dean that has an alive Cas, that Dean could have been good to Jack. But if we make the “you’re not what I asked for” more general could be Dean to Cas (especially in like a 2014 Dean to say a later canon Cas… maybe a AU where Dean does die post Soul Bomb and that Cas meets a 2014 Dean that survived Samifier?) sorry tangent lol

I adore your Garth and I like to imagine post fic a lovely gentle family supper with Cas meeting Cas jr and Garth being so very happy to see Dean doing better. And that they do those suppers at least once a month as a reward for Garth doing all he could to keep Dean doing, all his favorite people in his pack sharing a meal

a) Speaking of post fic and the people looking after Dean, I do wonder about Sam once he finally learns Dean is alive and so is Cas. Either we get our patented Emotional Bro Moment ™ and slow path to healing. Or like, Sam sees Dean is alive and ok and so is Cas and Sam, who I assume has been feverishly hunting for Dean 24/7 since he ran away, is like, “you good Dean? Cas you staying with him? Ok I’m going to the Bahamas for a month talk later bye” and 4 b) does Sam ever find out just HOW bad off Dean was when Cas found him or is that just between Cas and Dean?

I adore just how NEEDY Dean is for Cas once he’s back and ooohh delightful co-dependency and it’s just so so Dean. I like to imagine he gets better about needing Cas touching at all time but he’s still always clingy. And that he sometimes just NEEDS as close as possible (nightmares, post a dangerous situation, Cas got away from Dean in the grocery store for too long, etc) and maybe Cas is like, “Dean if I could I’d be as close as possible all the time but unless I possess you I won’t be able to do [x]” and Deans like “…yes”. Because what could be closer? Maybe not full time and Dean likes Cas’s body a LOT but maybe as a sometimes thing Dean needs to feel Cas in every cell of his body and soul AND go to the post office/interview someone for a hunt (if Dean ever does hunt again even occasionally) so Cas hops into his body for an internal bear hug since he can’t do so externally without people lookin’ funny as they shuffle along

I might remember other things but again! love this fic so much! Sorry for rambling so much!

❤️❤️❤️

*vid of the Decay incantation here https://youtu.be/_jZ6LTmyW6U?si=8tSj36trhI5H-7uP (here they found the new Incantation and are like, what does it do/can we use it to defeat [insert big bad here]? And this is the result oops. There are even more Incantations but they have SPOILERS, as it’s about 2 different powers (Sun Drop/Moon Stone) struggling for balance etc etc it’s a 3 season show with LORE and it’s vry good. The LORE around the Moon Stone is why Rapunzel has her long hair back because she touched some magic moon stuff and the her hair grew back and…)

Oh! I wasn’t the only one to connect “She used to be mine” to Dean, here

It works very well it turns out!

But as a bonus question, do you think there’s a version of Dean that the Dean at the end of the show would nostalgically think was “good enough” for Cas? As like another denial tactic, where Dean of now is like, “yeah Cas loves me and I love him but as I exists now I don’t deserve him like I would have before I [pre Hell, before Dean was Jack's John Winchester (even temporarily), Pre Michael, Pre Divorce arc, etc], but now I just gotta stay just friends for his own good”.

Thanks again for writing a fic like “What used to be mine” that gets my brain whirring and my heart fluttering

+++

Hello, anon!!

Tumblr isn't letting me format this answer at all, which is super fun and has been just a joy to repeatedly struggle w! I'm gonna try to keep my points short since this is a v long post lol

Firstly, your meta is v cool and i hate to disappoint you, What Used to Be Mine was chosen arbitrarily as the title bc it was on the mood playlist I made while writing the fic, and then i was struggling for a title, opened the playlist, and it was the first song title i saw (and yes, it's the version from the Broadway show lol)

I love Garth, he's under-utilized T A T

As for the reunion scene, I've actually thought a lot about this. Tbh i'm bad at being succinct lol and I just knew that if I *wrote* the reunion scene, it'd be another 20k words, and I had too many WIPs going on at the time to dedicate energy and time to that.

In my mind, I think the reunion would be complicated. I don't think Dean and Cas would tell Sam how bad it got - Dean runs away, in part, to protect Sam from seeing him at his absolute lowest. He's parentified and wouldn't want to put that on Sam. So, I think ultimately, Sam would be told that he doesn't need to worry about the why or how, just be glad Cas is home and Dean is okay, and he'd be reluctant at first, and then kinda pissed off.

What he dealt with, with Dean in that fic, was emotionally exhausting. And then he was kind of abandoned. Being told to just shut up and smile wouldn't go over well w Sam, and it might take Garth's intervention to smooth things over, and remind Sam why it's a bad idea to poke at wounds like that, and to just let Dean have his privacy. With how codependent Dean and Sam are, i think it would just make Sam v angry that he's being shut out of the conclusion of MONTHS of agony for them both, but he'd eventually, gradually, release the resentment he might feel over it.

I like to think the Cas/Dean reunion scene in What Used to be Mine is a reflection of how they met in Hell; Dean not believing it, then fighting it out of fear or realizing he's being saved and not wanting to be, and then finally acceptance and surrender -- the neediness at the end i meant more to be... idk. like. upsetting? it's Dean at his most fearful and his most repentant. everything's always disappearing on him, people and opportunities and he felt what it was like to have even the memory of Cas stolen from him, so that moment, when he's sobbing and on his knees and clawing at Cas to get closer, it's more a sad, animal reaction than what i imagine as Dean being needy. but also i get what you're describing and i love needy!Dean in fic lol

im not entirely sure i understand what your last question is, but if im understanding it; i am sure a post-canon AU argument could be made for Dean circumventing any romance w Cas bc he feels undeserving, that's v in-character tbh. Dean's self-hatred is integral to a lot of plot on spn lmao it would stand to reason that Dean could, in theory, work through the shock and fear of being attracted to Cas, feeling that intensely for his best friend, who is a supernatural AND guy-shaped, and he might even accept all those things and come to the conclusion that he reciprocates romantic love, and then self-sabotage bc he's self-punishing. That absolutely tracks

I'm so so so so so glad you enjoyed What Used to be Mine!!!! ; u ; it means so much to me when folks talk to me abt my fics like this, i love seeing meta and talking abt the details and what-if's!! i hope i answered all your questions :333 feel free to send more any time u wanna talk abt any of my fics!! this really brightened my day ; u ;

[tngrace]

Grace's POV of the phone call she has with Jake from @mrsjaderogers story. Must read it first.

🏷s: @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @semperhuggs @ladylanera

When his phone rings, Jake is extremely surprised to see Grace's name. Especially since he just saw Alana at the store a few hours previously. No way they'd already talked, but maybe they had.

"Grace? Is everything ok? You're supposed to be enjoying the beaches and your husband for the 2nd time around?" Jake drawls instead of saying hello.

"Jacob Seresin let me tell you something. I would do anything... I do mean anything for my two best friends and wifes so you better listen and listen real good. I don't know who you think you are but I thought I knew you better than this! I'm so mad at you right now! You better be glad I'm out of the country at the moment."

"Ummmm...."

"Oh no. This is a you shut up and listen not a you talk conversation."

Jake stares at his phone totally confused. Between Grace and Baylie he would expect a call like this from Baylie, not Grace. Besides he's not totally sure what he's done, except see Alana at the store.

"I cannot believe you!!!!! Actually in some ways yea I can see you sleeping with her. I know you like her but to fuck her and leave her and ignore her all these months and make her go through all of this alone?!?!?! Alone?! Especially... fucking especially after you found out Sydney was lying to you?! What?! You thought Lan would to? Well fuck you Jake. She is not like that bitch of an ex you've got. She is so much better. And I thought you were too."

"Are you done?"

"No! Fuck no I'm not! My best friend has been through hell, keeping your secret, puking her guts up, going to appointments alone when Bay and I couldn't go with her. And for what?! All because you couldn't be bothered to answer her?! Not even when you learned the truth about Sydney! You're better than this Jake and I don't even know what to think anymore. You broke my best friend's heart."

"Grace... I don't know what you think happened but I haven't heard from Alana since the Navy awards ceremony.

"Bullshit Jake! Bull fucking shit. She told us... she told us she couldn't tell us who the baby daddy was because she wanted to tell him first but he wasn't taking her calls or texts. Fuck she even emailed and that got ignored too."

"What?!"

"God I know you're blonde Jake but you're not stupid!"

"Grace! I'm serious. I haven't heard from Alana except for when I ran into her at the store a few hours ago! She hasn't tried calling or texting!"

"YES SHE HAS! She tried to tell you about the baby; I know she did! She wouldn't lie to me or Baylie about that. She never told us it was you but I saw that baby today and I knew. I knew my niece was yours. I swear to god Jake you better have this fixed before I get back into town tomorrow or I will kill you before Baylie ever does. My best friend and niece deserve better than your Hangman routine. I thought you were done with that."

Grace's disappointment and ire come through the phone and hit Jake right in the heart on top of the bomb she just dropped on him.

"We still love you Jake but you have screwed up royally. Fix it." And with that Grace hangs up on him.

She turns around and texts Baylie next. "Now I know why you yell at Jake all the time, it feels good. Our girls deserve better. See you when you get home. Xoxo."

Then she finishes packing to head back home and see her girls.

[fortune-card]

Opinion: They Brought It On Themselves

Published in Our Gray Lady Times, October 27th 2026.

Editor Note: Clementine S. Warner is an advocate against the recent rise of domestic drone attacks. Now, there are more calls than ever for regulation or outright banning the sale of retail drones. Her only child, Leon Warner, was killed in the Birken Park Elementary arson attack. Afterwards, Warner was harassed by extremist groups, supported by popular media personality Aleje Anex. Anex has targeted Warner under the false accusation that she and her child were ‘crisis actors’ involved in the attack. Warner is accused of felony harassment of Anex and will face trial this November.

When you get an email you know you’re going to get in trouble for looking at, what should you do? Like a child, I was tempted to hide it in the trash bin, to throw other emails on top of it so no one ever knew I received it, and then take the garbage out myself. My family would have praised me for ignoring it, for taking out the trash without being coerced. But the subject line:

“We have who hurt you.”

I shouldn’t have opened it. It could have been a test by the FBI, malware, or another horrific ‘meme’. Once, it was just a template email of my son burning alive with the caption, ‘He’s burning in Hell too’. A consequence of modernity, I’ve been told. If you lose your son in a mass terror event, some moron on the internet will create a conspiracy theory around it, and the rest of your life will be spent waiting for another raid on your sanity.

Whenever I mentioned this feeling of anticipation to the half support group/half advocacy group, everyone had a story confirming worse was coming. That those locusts would gather around the fresh crop of misery created by an attack and eat it to the stalk, feast on the survivors to the bone. Nothing to do, my advocate coworkers insisted, but try to and move on. That same night my door was spray painted with my name and the words “Best Crisis Actor” in a dripping, meaningful red.

I clicked the link.

It opened up a different browser, directed to a simple black webpage, and locked my screen to it. Floating up from the black void of the internet came the question that would change my life.

“We will arrange everything. Do you want to hurt the man who’s hurt you?”

The man who took my son from me killed himself so I knew they didn’t mean him. They meant the seller of the email template, the encourager of graffiti, the internet Moses calling upon his swarm: Ajele Anex.

I clicked the ‘yes’ box thinking it was another cruel joke. A message flashed in acknowledgement of my choice and then I went to bed.

Yes.

I powered down my laptop, changed, and went to bed.

In my mind, nothing would happen. Just acknowledging I wanted to hurt him may have been the point of the email - because in the morning I woke up refreshed. I’d whispered a secret on the internet I could not whisper to my peers: I wanted to hurt someone. Physically.

I got ready for work feeling light. My muscles didn’t ache as I drove my car. I even had enough energy to greet my coworkers in the morning meeting. I was given a dozen excited ‘hello’s back as I sat beside Sarah. She liked to sit near me and gaze at me for approval after she said anything. She was working here before me, having lost her spouse and her infant daughter to a drone bombing attack. Hers had been a homemade sulfur bomb, dropped on her family in a grocery store parking lot. I had to walk to and from work for a week after she first told me.

“I got another one,” Sarah sniffled.

The room was instantly filled with soft coos of apologies and calls to stay strong. Her expression dissolved into misery. “It was my husband. They showed him alive somewhere in the Bahamas.”

“More photoshop?” Someone asked. She nodded, a meek defeated jerk of her head that showed her submission to the knowledge. My own heart ached as the strain in my muscles returned.

I knew, for her and for all of us, for a split second you buy the lie. It is like the life you could have flashes before your eyes and leaves you a walking corpse. Seeing Noah off to a coding camp, kissing him at his college graduation, crying at his wedding. You see it, you remember that path is forever closed to both of you, and then you die all over again.

“Sorry, Sarah,” pushed its way out of my stiff drying lips.

“Thanks, Clem,” she whispered back before turning in her chair to sob in private.

Over the sound of her tears, I tested the waters. “I got a weird email the other day too-”

“More photoshop? Seriously, since they learned how to ask AI to help, it’s been a fucking nightmare,” Someone declared.

Just before I was about to say ‘no’ I considered it again. Maybe it had been photoshop. Anyone could buy a webpage and make a link to it. Maybe it was all false hope again. Someone was probably laughing, typing up a forum post about what an idiot I was. I swallowed down the fear.

“Can I ask a question to the group?” My body buzzed as people looked up from their phones and notepads to me. “How come we let them do this to us?”

Anger swept through the room like a hurricane, laptops and tablets snapping closed and throats clearing in their wake. The President of the advocacy group stared at me. “I wouldn’t say we let them. I would say they go out of their way to target and harass us, right?”

My heart cried out as the room started to agree, “We tell people who call: don’t engage, change your email address and if that doesn’t work, change it again. Don’t engage, sell your home and move and if that doesn’t work, change it again. If nothing works, call the police and if they do nothing and it gets worse - call them again.”

The room agreed again: they had taken all these steps. I continued, “But it doesn't work right?”

“What are you suggesting?” The President asked with a dismissive wave of her pen.

“Why don’t we bomb their houses? I mean, that’s what Aleje Anex tells his supporters right? ‘Let’s drone these crisis actors' homes’? Why aren’t we saying the same?”

Someone found soundwaves and shot them. In that room was such a paralyzing silence that I thought time had frozen. I had broken the innate unspoken policy of non-violence that infected these spaces. I’d said the bad thing out loud.

The President made hard, locking eye contact with me. “Clementine. What is to stop them from bombing our houses instead of sending emails?”

I sat with that for a moment. At first I imagined a sulfur bomb dropping through my roof and winced. Then, as I sat with the thought more, I realized there was a solution to this - to cover the roof with a slanted tarp so it rolled off. I met her eye and said, “A roof tent might be a start-”

“So you’ve thought about this?” The President asked as she leaned back in her chair. Though her expression never changed, I could feel how furious she was with me. It was like witnessing a spring compact and waiting for it to let go.

“No, not really,” I said it quickly, before the group could recommend my removal. “I guess I’m just thinking that…if we targeted the people sending others to harass us-”

“Oh, this is all about Aleje Anex again, isn’t it?” The President offered a barely restrained smirk as the group began agreeing with her. Murmuring about how much I talk about him, how he targeted my family with his army of two million followers, how there had been no real punishment for him, how the money we were promised was taken by lawyers, states, and other families, and how that prevented me from seeing the downsides of vigilantism. The group had gone from thinking critically about a slight use of violence to accepting The President’s assumption of my naivety.

She sighed softly, almost empathetically as she said, “It’s not healthy for you to give him any attention, Clementine.” Nevermind that I wasn’t listening to his program, I simply existed in a society where he was everywhere defending himself. “This obsession…it’s really dangerous, you know? How many droners started out with these same thoughts and that led them to bomb playgrounds? This is why education is so important. People like you need to be given other ways of solving a social problem than force. An eye for an eye, Clementine…”

“Wouldn’t you say they’re using force on us right now?”

“No one is physically threatening you. No one is destroying property.” My door is forever stained red. They show photos of my dead child burning in hell. My child is dead. “No one is rioting and killing and creating more chaos. Isn’t that better for you?”

“No, we’re not physically threatening people. We’re not destroying property. We’re not rioting or killing or creating chaos - but they are! So what does it say to them that we will always roll over and take it!?”

“Take a second to compose yourself. This is upsetting to many people in the room, including myself.”

I glanced around to see the same shivering fear Sarah wore on her face reflected on everybody’s. Yet instead of the pity I usually felt, the wobbling chins and wet eyes angered me. Why is everyone a coward? Why have all of our efforts only amounted to a call line and their efforts have resulted in the complete paralyzation of our side?

“Why are we letting them win?” Burst out of me along with hot tears that splattered across the table. “The droning is getting worse every year, no political party is willing to restrict sale of them in a meaningful way, and after every single one, everyone involved is driven insane! How many of us have considered suicide rather than see another bombing at a park! We are losing what both sides have labeled a culture war, a war!”

“Clemenetine…we’re not letting them win,” She said with a slight sigh. That’s exactly how I knew we were losing. “But do you really think we are the people that should be getting involved in a physical fight?”

The President didn’t look at Sarah but Sarah was who she was talking about.

I agreed with her wholeheartedly on this point. People like Sarah should not get involved with guns or real war. So I pointed towards the force that I knew was already fighting. The ones that had sent me the email to begin with. “What about supporting the revolutionaries?”

The President’s gaze hardened from steel to diamond. It was such a deeply cutting glare that I still strum the open wound today. My coworkers shook like traumatized dogs until the table started to rattle. “Get out. You’re done for the day, Clementine. Take a few days, a few weeks if you need. But do not come back to this space that we all work so hard to keep safe, until you are ready to help solve the problem realistically.”

“What? Because I said we should support the fighters?”

“Because you said we should support the domestic terrorists! I mean have you really thought that through? Clementine, nearly half the people in this room are mandated reporters and you practically just said you want to kill people! Go get help! Go talk to your therapist, your psychiatrist, your psychic - but for God’s sakes, get out of here!”

The President got up from her chair to escort me out but I was in the parking lot before she could slam the door behind me. Without bugging the place, I knew she would go back into the meeting and help lick the wounds of the seemingly helpless creatures we’ve surrounded ourselves with.

I climbed into my car, slammed the door, and resisted the urge to scream into my steering wheel. Now I know I could have screamed as loud as I wanted. The bag would have still gone over my head. I was sure I didn’t have any fight in me but when that black curtain dropped over my face, I became a wild animal. I must have pounds of that stranger’s DNA under my nails. As I started to float, my consciousness began to panic and I lunged for where their face might be and prayed to feel my fingers squish against eyes. But my conscious kept floating away until I ceased to exist at all.

When I was reborn, I was deeply afraid.

I was in a classic cold metal chair and with a board stiff back. The room I was in was like behind a stage - pitch black, only illuminateed when someone shifted or came from the stage. Despite the dark, I knew I was surrounded by people with guns - the hard black kind police used. I could hear the way their gloves squeaked against the plastic and how the strap banged against the rifle as they shifted.

I should have been afraid for my life but the only thing I can remember is feeling hypothermically cold. I wrapped my hands around myself and could not feel my skin no matter how hard I squeezed my dull, fat arms. I felt the concentration of dozens of human eyes; all waiting for me to do something.

“Can we please get her a blanket? She agreed to come after all.”

I looked around for the voice: a soft, female sound that fluttered over the ears of everyone. A blanket was wrapped around me at her command. Without thinking of how I must have looked like Sarah to the people surrounding me, I wrapped the comfort around my shoulders and kept my eyes fixed to the ground.

I heard soft heels hitting concrete floors until a face appeared in my view. A soft, natural white on a wrinkled, round face. The eyes were gentle, calming. They seemed to ask ‘Hey, are you okay?’ without any judgment or pressure to lie. Then, there was a soft hand that was carding through my hair.

“I’m the person in charge here,” The Lips of the Face murmured. “You have nothing to fear. I’m very grateful for your bravery.”

“B-bravery?” I could have ripped my stuttering tongue out but The Lips just smiled.

“You accepted our offer. You admitted the truth. That’s very brave, Clementine. Now, we get to reward you in a way that would usually be impossible. Can you stand?”

I stood somehow. That brief moment allowed the hint of light in and I saw The Face was actually an extremely realistic mask. My fleshy expression must been shocked because she laughed at me. Softly, she stroked the edge of her mask and lifted the flap to show me how realistic it was to skin.

“Guess who’s face this is? Oh my god, it’s not their actual skin, Clementine!” She laughed again a little at my shock. “This is Laura Ortez, she’s sent more emails, phone calls, letters than anyone I’ve ever seen. She even organized lists of potential victims like you and distributed them to the appropriate local militias. Victims she found through Ajele Anex, of course. She’s his devotee.”

“What?” I asked, assuming she was lying. That was clearly a threat. It would have been hard to send through the post office. And, more than anything, it felt like a crime.

“You heard me,” she said with the same smile. “It’s not illegal to make and share a list.”

“It is when it’s to harm-”

“Ooooooh, whooo said anything about the local militias harming you? She sent them ‘so they would know who to defend against’. Isn’t that nice of her? To list you as a potential threat to armed men?” She shook her head. “It’s unacceptable. That’s why I’m wearing her face.”

“I’m not quite clear on what’s happening anymore,” I told her honestly.

She laughed and shook her head again, this time like someone seeing their dog chase its tail. “You’re not supposed to! You can’t be trusted. Shh, no Clementine, you cannot be trusted yet. You think that Laura is your enemy, when she is truly your ally. That’s also why you don’t get a mask. You have to be Clementine.”

My fists clenched as I started to push her on what was going on. She held up a hand. “We have kidnapped and held Mr. Anex here for the last 26 hours. You were the first to respond to our link, meaning you’ll get to be a part of what we do today. Over the next two hours, we are going to torture him live and on air, just as he likes it, and then let him go.”

The hunter from before found time and strangled it to death. Me and this complete psycho stared at each other for hours in the slip space. She began laughing at my expression. The longer I was confused, the more bouncing and excited her laugh became. Her face seemed to peel and then stick as she moved and lightly slapped her face. These people were the ‘revolutionaries’ I had wanted to support moments ago and now I was praying for a call line to show me out of this.

Without any more explanations or questions, I was made camera ready. A young woman wearing all black and a mic, like a theater tech, played with my hair and brushed my cheeks with blush. She straightened my clothes, led me to a black curtain, and gestured silently for me to sit on the chair behind it.

“Am-am I supposed-”

“Who’s there! Come out you fucking bastards! You fuckin’ cowards! Get out here! You’re not-” I had started to ask the question when a bellowing guttural sound, like if a 6 foot slug had a voice, cut me off.

“Can someone duct tape, Mr. Anex please?!” My theater tech cried into her mic before she started fixing my hair again. I heard someone come in, the unmistakable sound of duct tape being ripped open in anger, and muffled screaming.

As though finishing the final stroke, that young woman pressed a small, simple pistol into my hand. “This part is where the bullet comes out,” She said, as though explaining it to a idiot. Then her face screwed up in the same annoyed frustration adults held for children who didn’t understand. She explained slowly, “Never aim it, this part where the bullet comes out, at yourself. Pull this part, it’s called a trigger, when you want the show to end.”

My tech left without another condescension and I sat in silence until the production began.

Lights warmed the area just enough to reveal Ajele sitting only ten steps from me. He looked much worse than I felt: his hair was pointing towards the ceiling and plastered to his forehead and smeared over the sides of his face, he maintained a purposeful poker face while his eyes darted from corner to corner like tracking an insect, and he was dressed in great and heavy chains that laced his gelatinous form to the chair. And more than anything I remember his breathing.

When a large animal is in distress, they breathe in this way where the sound echoes to the back of their throat and down into their stomach - vibrating the entire fat of whatever creature was in fear. Seeing Ajele’s jowls shake as he struggled to breath normally would have been comical were it not for the genuine danger he was in.

And what a thrill it was to be the danger.

I carefully aimed the pistol at him - slowly and quietly so he did not hear me like I heard the soldiers - and rubbed my index finger against the plastic side of the trigger. I could feel the way the unsanded edge rubbed over the bumps of my fingerprint; I was so attune with this tool. A butcher feels a knife in his hand; I felt the gun in mine.

Before I could make any rash decisions, The Leader entered.

Dim, antique light lit her stage and her form. The Leader walked as though followed by royal precession: slow, deliberate steps with her arms gracefully kept behind her back and her head high. The Leader let a dark hand rise towards the ceiling and summoned a young woman who pushed a large computer onto her stage. One stomp and a screen unfurled with the sound of fast grinding plastic.

As she danced for Aleje and I, the screen was populated with several confusing things: a gif of fire, a beach resort, and stacks of dollar bills.

The dance finished with a sigh from The Leader that drew the oxygen out of her follower’s lungs. Even I felt my throat vibrate as I joined the chorus of air until she raised a fist for silence.

“Are you done? Cause I only got about one more fuckin’ hippie lightshow in me before I vomit,” Aleje asked. He let out a huff that sounded like his lung collapsed but was probably a laugh.

“Yes, Mr. Anex. Our ‘hippie light show’ has completed. We will now begin the pleasurable torture for our audience. For everyone watching, for everyone who knows the harm this animal has done, and for those too scared to look away-” And she seemed to be looking at me when she said that. “I hope this brings you catharsis.”

When she turned her back and clapped, two homes and the inside of a luxury apartment appeared. “Mr. Anex,” she began. “Do you recognize these homes?”

He was silent but vibrating.

“Enjoyers, if you can’t see, he is shivering at the prospect-”

“I’m not fuckin’ shiverin’!” He shouted, whipping his head around and trying to find a camera to face. Ajele looked more deranged than an escaped convict rooted out of the woods. It was that type of resigned insanity just waiting for a moment alone with you.

“Then perhaps you were sniffing for an escape? Raising your head when you think you hear the farmer come to open your pen? No, don’t answer, Mr. Anex. Please don’t answer. Everyone here already knows the oinking truth.”

Motion on the screen caught my eye and revealed itself as a squad of drones whirring towards the houses and the floor to ceiling glass windows of the apartment. A hot nervous energy pumped me up like a balloon but the trigger cutting into my finger was my release value, keeping me floating above the chair, as the machines flew towards the homes.

“Hey…” Aleje realized a little later than I did. He began frantically pulling on his chains, bringing to mind the prison yard he should have been living in. “Hey! Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing! Hey!”

The Leader tilted her head and wore a new mask of deep pity. “What do you think we’re doing?”

“What the-Hey! Don’t bomb my fuckin’ house! My-my family’s in there!”

“What family, Mr. Anex? Your wife doesn’t live in any of these homes - she managed to escape you. And your daughters…” The Leader smirked, a real malicious smile on a fake face. “They’re in Brazil with their new boyfriends, right? Staying at Nani Alto, right? Now there’s a fine place to lose access to Daddy’s money.”

“You leave my fuckin’ kids out of this, you bitch! You roadkill wearing cunt!” He was referring to her mask and, to this day, probably regrets not using the correct word. He laughed maliciously. “You better hope I never get out of here…when I do…!”

The Leader was unphased. She stared at him until he was shuttering and breathing and straining against the chair. “Are you finished, Mr. Anex?”

“No! I’m not fuckin’ finish-” But long cough finished for him. I felt I was watching a sick horse struggling to lift its head. Ajele hacked and spat at The Leader’s feet in defiance.

The drones finally reached the target and innocently dropped their payloads before buzzing away. The camera quality couldn’t show whatever fell - only the bright white explosion and the raging fires that began to burn in all three spots.

“No!” Aleje screamed.

“Enjoyers, while we won’t show it on camera, once these places have burned down, we’re going to find and destroy his safes-”

“No!” Ajele wailed, moving the curtains with the force of his anguish.

“Yes!” The Leader cried in response. “And we are going to destroy every deed, passport, gun, and global currency we find in them. We’ll take your gold and jewels though. We can always sell those.” The Leader smiled brightly as his homes burned and crumbled behind her. “The revolution thanks you for your support!”

Ajele was quiet except the occasional gasp of complete and abject misery. His eyes exploded out of his sockets and his face was apple red. The color reminded me of the spray paint used on my door, giving me my award as the best crisis actor. I found myself warmed by his misfortune - as though I had been frozen and now I had a whole house fire to melt the aching cold off my body.

An astonished, “You sons of bitches,” was all he could get out before pain of materials lost destroyed him further. The Leader leaned down so her mask was right next to his, the edges of her borrowed flesh starting to peel up her face.

“What else was in there, Mr. Anex? What goodies will we find?”

“Fuck you,” Ajele said. There was the charismatic throat bubbling of a man about to spit on something. The Leader, who would have heard it best, remained still. I watched her let his rotting mouth gunk splash into her lips without flinching.

She stood up, took the towel handed to her, and wiped it off. The Leader gently tossed the towel into Ajele’s lap and said, “I take it you’re not going to apologize for your behavior yet?”

“I-I did!” He said with a shoulder bouncing laughter that was more bravado than true feeling. “Didn’t you taste my sincerity?”

“Perhaps I’ll need another.”

The camera’s focus changed. It was two beautiful young women, laughing and dancing at a beach party. Tiki torches, that is to say open flame, illuminated the dancers.

“Our agents are wearing cameras on the dance floor. Do you recognize your two beautiful daughters?”

Ajele was silent. The Leader noted this with a soft hum. “Can I say? It’s a point for you in my book that you want to protect your children. It reminds me that you are human. That you, at least in some way, love these disgusting skanks-”

“Don’t talk about my kids-”

“Oh, so they are your daughters!” The Leader said chipperly. “Really, you are no better than a carp, Mr. Anex. You’ll eat whatever bait is in front of you. That’s how we caught you, wasn’t it? Dangling stock trading info on a silver hook?”

“Don’t. You Hurt. My Family.”

“But it was alright to hurt mine?”

I touched my throat. I could not believe I had spoken the question aloud. And no sooner had I then the curtain in front me dropped. Ajele’s head whipped towards me but his eyes showed no recognition. He’d spent years using me to motivate his worshiping idiots, to sell diet pills that didn’t work, to gain fame - and he could not remember me.

“I have a name, you know?” I found myself shaking with anger at his confused innocent face. “I had a world before someone took it away and you shat on the ashes! I had a fucking world!”

He shook his head and started to say it, say that he didn’t know who I was, that he had no idea why I was here, when I raised the gun. “I lost my fucking child, you know? He’s dead! You and I both know he’s dead! He’s dead!”

Everytime I said it, my voice got louder. The image of a hole in his forehead was almost too tempting.

“Lady…” He trailed off again as he looked back at the gun. There wasn’t an ounce of understanding in his eyes. Ajele genuinely just thought I was another trick his kidnappers had pulled - the braindead moron. Confusion slipped down the wrinkles of his mouth and he licked away the forehead sweat that pooled in them.

“You really have no idea who I am, do you?” I demanded to know, though my voice was already shaking at the truth. “You have no clue whose life you helped ruin! They spray painted my door-”

“So you’re doing all this over some fuckin’ spray paint?” His voice was high and nervous. Ajele looked like he was watching a cannibal eat dinner.

I fingered the trigger, I cut into my flesh with that slice of plastic, and I aimed at his head. He stiffened and I relaxed. “Yes, Ajele. That’s all. I am going to make you watch whatever they’re about to do to your daughters over some spray paint. Leader!”

With an expression of manic delight, she stomped and clapped like a flamingo dancer and suddenly there was audio.

We heard the clearest voice from the agent with the camera. “I don’t know, I-I guess I’m just not feeling it-”

“Jason, what the fuck are you saying? Where are you going?” One of Ajele’s daughters was tailing the voice as he walked away from the party.

“You’re too clingy! Jesus! Just fuck off! This is why your dad can’t stand you - you’re always fuckin’ askin’ for something! You and your sister are just fucking impossible! And-and, you know what? Todd’s only with her cause he wants a job with your dad. So just…just leave me alone…”

After freezing on the young woman’s devastated face as her world crumbled, I looked at Ajele. He was stunned, mouth hanging open and creating a black hole flies flew out of. He paled and shook like a dog ready to vomit before laying his chin onto his soft chest.

One of the hard rifled guards helped pick his head up by his hair. Ajele stared, drooling like a vegetable as we cut to a view of his younger daughter, who was still dancing and twirling and unknowing. The Leader didn’t even bother wasting the audio, instead letting us watch as her bright face dimmed. She grew older and her eyes were searching and desperate like her fathers as the camera’s owner broke her young heart.

The Leader snapped and the screen froze on her face just before it burst into tears. “Enjoyers,” she began even as Ajele launched into a new tirade of threats and violent promises. “We’ll have you know we’ve drained the entire family’s accounts. The daughters are now stranded in Brazil. Their boyfriends, really our agents, will take the passports from their rooms, truly abandoning them to their fate.”

“Evil cunt! Fucking bitch! I’ll blow up this whole building! I’ll find where you live-” He broke into violent coughing, allowing The Leader to continue.

“I hope your daughters have some cash on them…though I can’t speak for their safety if they’re carrying and using large amounts of cash in Brazil…will they make it to an embassy even or will the taxi driver carry the young, beautiful, abandoned American girls somewhere else?’

“I’m…” His shoulders sank as he stared at his humiliated family.

The Leader pulled a smartphone out of her pocket. “This is actually old footage we’re showing you, Mr. Anex. Your girls have been abandoned since you got here.”

In the same smiling non-chalenance of the Vanna White, The Leader walked past the screen and tapped it. At every tap, a text was revealed. The frantic fear in both the messages and the kind of ache they inspired in Anex was indulgently good to watch.

“Daddy? Did you freeze the card? Did we do something wrong. Please call, we’re really sorry. Please please call.” I saw his chest tighten at this.

“Dad? Will you please pick up? We’re so so sorry! Please! Just pick up!” I saw him bite his lip and glance at me with the gun.

“DAD!! Please! We fucked up, okay! Derek and Kyle just ditched us, we can’t find any of our luggage, we’re getting KICKED OUT OF THE HOTEL!! Please just pick up! I’m starting to get really worried!!!!!!!”

“Enjoyers~” The Leader started venomously. “You should see the tears dotting his eyes.”

The next messages came all at once; in three large paragraphs.

“Dad, we’re safe. Alexa and I had some cash and got a room for another night in the hotel. I don’t know what we did or why you cut us off again knowing we were at the resort - in a foreign country. Dad. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you always do this instead of just fucking TALKING TO US! Alexa has been crying for hours, HOURS, because she thinks you hate her again. Like, whatever, you never liked me but I thought you loved Alexa? I thought you were willing to deal with us at least because mom’s such a bitch.

But Mom was the one who returned our calls and sent us some money. Mom was the one who was planning to buy a plane ticket to come get us. And she said that we probably didn’t do anything wrong. She said you get it in your head that the whole world hates and is belittling you(her words) but no one is. That you have a platform to do, like, good stuff with and you just use it to say fluoride turns frogs gay or whatever stupid fucking thing the internet, the people who actually do HATE YOU, are making fun of you for this week.”

And do you know what the worst part is? We bumped into some of your corny ass worshippers. Called you a ‘prophet’ and spent the entire time with us telling us about how great our shitty dad who abandon us to be raped and murdered by Brazillian gang was because we committed to the crime of????? Not texting him back about his stocks???? (still not sure what you’re mad about btw!!) Well I hate you. Alexa will forgive you because she’s ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ but I hate you now. When I get home, I’m packing everything and moving to Mom’s. You really are just fucking insane. Good bye.”

Ajele was consumptively pale and flushed. The stark white of his skin made the salt and pepper of his beard extra salty. His mouth would twitch like he was talking and smiling but no sound pushed past his lips. I felt like I was looking at a butchered octopus. The Leader would shift the messages like pouring soy sauce over him - and for a moment the dead thing would spring to silent life. And then he would fall still again.

“Wha…what. What do you want? I mean what do you people want?!” He shrieked before flopping back into his corpse-like state.

I stood and clutched the gun. I approached the defeated beast slowly as I spoke for The Leader, for the stage techs, for his daughters, for my advocacy group, for me: “We wanted to hurt you. We wanted to hurt you deeply. And we did it because there was no other way to get through to you. An animal like you only responds to fear. There’s no other way to talk to someone like you.”

“And now,” The Leader said. “We have had a very good conversation.”

Lights flooded the area and balloons rained from the ceiling. I kept my gun on Ajele, who flinched at every balloon popped under the stampede’s foot, until my tech laughingly ripped it from my hands.

“Congrats! Congrats! Well acted, both of you!” They cried as they picked up Ajele’s chair and hoisted it over their heads. “Congrats! Well played!”

A massive door opened, revealing we were in some plane hanger in the middle of the desert. Hot night air rushed to greet Ajele as they bounced him outside. Before I could turn to find her, The Leader wrapped her arm around mine and peeled the mask back enough to wink at me.

“Take a breath, Clementine. Everything’s okay.”

“What do you mean?” I cried as the reality of what I’d done sank in. I’d just threatened Ajele Anex with a gun, live and on camera for people to see. “They’re going to kill me for this!”

Ajele must have heard this for when he ground his head against the thick of his neck to glare at us, his complexion had more or less renewed. “Yeah we are. I’m gonna sue you until you’re on the street and then we’re gonna kill every single one of you fuckers-”

“Who’s we? Your former followers?” The Leader let out that psychotic little laugh again as she walked toward Ajele. “Sir, no harm has been done to you. You are physically fine and all of your assets are in tack.”

The confusion on both of our faces summoned a giggle from the whole crowd. The giggle turned into howling laughter from everyone until some members were beating the ground for relief. In her theatrical way, The Leader unveiled her phone and began showing Ajele his own home security footage. She bought something with his credit card. She showed photos of his daughters safe and at their mother’s house.

“All of what we showed you, all you feared and spit on me for, was false. Photoshop and AI. Actors we paid to date, drag your daughters to Brazil, and leave them there. All is well, Mr. Anex, except the feeling your precious fans will feel when they find out you staged all of this.”

“Me?!” He screamed as that same near death complexion and fatigue started to course through him.

“Yes.” The Leader nodded. “You know, if you knew your base’s faces better, you would have recognized this mask, this face, belongs to one of your best cronies. In fact, everyone’s masks tonight was someone you preached to and believed it. Someone who thought you were on their side.”

She snapped her fingers and two men began to unwrap Ajele. They dumped him out of his chair and onto the runway. After laying on the ground while we all watched him, as we all watched him literally lay at rock bottom, he managed to pick himself up. “So-so you morons are just gonna let me go?”

“We are. Except, of course, the addresses of your homes, all the info we found in your passports, and every bit of your medical info we’ve leaked online. Tomorrow, or later tonight, your followers will put together that your home is still there and your daughters are fine and you still have money - and assume you have pulled an elaborate fundraising heist. That, when reviewing the footage, every face seen is one associated with you! That you are, in fact, the only real Crisis Actor there is. You’re not on their side. You just seek to profit off their confusion and misery.”

Ajele tried to defend himself. “I’ll tell them the truth!”

“And I’m sure they’ll believe you after you’ve pulled this stunt. After we make them believe, like you make believe, that this was all a show - a production to enrich yourself after losing all those legal battles. Tsk, tsk, you ought be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Anex.”

Then Anex said the thing The President was so afraid of, “I’m going to come back here and kill you all.”

But The Leader only laughed softly, “Forgive me for rubbing it in but…you and what army?” At the sound of her soldier cocking those rifles, she tossed his phone to him. “The nearest place with cell service is about two miles that way….I think. Better get walking, Mr. Anex.”

And he did.

The beast I had so feared for so long stumbled into the desert night. The evil that sent swarm after swarm to devour me was fleeing from the sight of me and my new friends.

Did I feel safe? No. I had a sneaking suspicion I was being made a scapegoat by these revolutionaries. Now all of the loyal locusts would target me instead of the harder to find Leader and her troop.

She was kind enough to bag me again and drop me at a airport: my passport, international flight ticket, some luggage, and a wig were provided for my escape. By then, it was all over the news. I watched a reporter painstakingly go over the details of the event I just lived and was about to take most of the public fall for. But then, the reporter said something that stuck with me, that had me write draft after draft of this article.

She said, “What could anyone do to deserve this?”

It sunk in that it doesn’t matter how overtly evil I believed Ajele Anex was. People still saw him as a human, rightly so perhaps.

I just can’t shake the feeling he could have avoided all this. If Ajele had not spent the better part of a decade lying. If he had told his followers not to harass. If he stopped screaming conspiracy theory at every mass tragedy. If he had not focused so heavily on droning. If the meme of my son burning wasn’t a cheap email template you could buy his store - Neither of us would have been there that night.

I say to you clearly. Whatever happens from here on out to Ajele and his ilk: they have it coming. Whatever torture they suffer is what they have brought upon themselves. You do not need to like it. You do not need to watch. You do not need to act.

But you need to understand this as a form of justice. He has his life, still has his family, and can recover if he chooses to be an honest man. I will never be able to return home. Every day I wake up with my son buried and a trial date in November and I have never felt better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Originally, I wrote this as a response to the ongoing Alex Jones vs Bereaved Parents trials that were happening. After sitting in submission for several, nail biting months, it was ultimately rejected. I disagree with this rejection, though I can see why it happened on a personal and artistic level. Regardless, here it is on the text-based website. In a few weeks, when I get back from Japan, I’ll get it up on YouTube.

[ilytangy]

Lucifer x Fem!Reader Pt. 3

Refer to part 1 for warnings!

Your POV

We all walk into the lobby. Charlie and Lucifer start talking, and we all listen.

Awwwww! Charlie and Lucifer sing so beautifully together! And Lucifer can get Charlie a meeting to Heaven! He eventually makes his leave but not before looking at me one last time. So wholesome :)

*Day of the meeting*

Charlie and Vaggie prepare for the meeting with Heaven today. Vaggie seems a little off, though. I wonder why? Well, at this point, Heaven is just being petty murderers, so I understand. Then, an explosion happens in the wall. “What’s up with that wall?” As the smoke clears, I see a woman with ripped clothes, a half up, half down hairstyle, and one eye like Nifty. “What up, hoes?” she says. “Holy Shit! Cherri Bomb! Long time, no see, baby!” Angel says. I’m guessing they’re friends. “Angie! You bitch! You’ve been texting me depressing shit all day! Figured we could tear shit up like old times! It’s been fucking forever! Here hold this.” She handed Charlie a BOMB! Vaggie grabs it and throws it out of the hole Cherri made. “I love seeing ya’, Cherri, but I’m too tired. I need to pass out.” “Aww, you can sleep when you’re double dead, fuckhead! Come on! What you really need is a recharge, a reinvigoration, re-“ Charlie cuts her off, “Responsible night in the town! That is a great idea! Hi! Charlie! That’s my wall you just blew up. It’s so nice to meet one of Angel’s friends! AUGH! He never brings anyone around.” “Wonder why..” “Yea, me too! Anyway, Angel and everyone else have been working so hard. I think they deserve to have a little fun.” Cherri declines but immediately accepts when Charlie hands her a stack of cash. I decide that, even though I am a lightweight, I should let off a little steam. When Charlie and Vaggie leave, we head out. We get there, and I get 1 DRINK. “C’mon, you a lightweight? Drink s’more!” Angel said. “I am, and I’m not risking it.” “Ok.” We spend the night having fun, with everyone else getting wasted. Suddenly, Nifty is gone. Angel stresses looking for her. We see her end up in the hands of a random moth demon. “Valentino.” “Who?” I say in shock. “You don’t know? The overlord?” I stand in shock. There’s no way it could be him.. I mean anyone can be named Valentino, though it is fitting that he’s at the club.. Angel confronts him, and then I hear his voice. “N-no! It can’t be!” He overheard me and threw Angel to the ground. “You.. what’s your name?” He said with a malicious tone. “(Y/n).” “Did you happen to kill your husband of 10 years in the 1970’s?” “I did.” “… You WHORE!” He picked me up by my collar. “LOOK AT THAT! I AM AND WAS ALWAYS BETTER THAN YOU!” Valentino threw me to the ground. “JUST YOU WAIT! I’M GOING TO SHOOT YOU 10 TIMES, JUST LIKE YOU DID.” I start shedding tears. “I guess some people never change do they?” I, somehow, pushed Valentino to the ground with immense strength. I hear everyone gasp. “Just remember, Valentino. I shot you 10 times, and I can do it again, and maybe…” I say as I step on him, and I feel my skin get hotter. “… I might even shoot you for how many souls you torture in hell,” I say with an evident growl in my voice. “Got it?”

*your demonic form*

“Bitch..” He gets up from the floor and reminds Angel of what comes tomorrow in the studio. We leave for the hotel. “So, (Y/n), you got some explaining to do.” Angel said. “For what reason?” “‘For what reason?’ Girl, you threatened VALENTINO, MY BOSS, AN OVERLORD!” *sigh* “I‘ll say when we get to the hotel.”

*when we get there*

“Well? Whatcha gonna say,” Angel asks.

Backstory :)

“So, back when I was alive, I used to have a husband. He was very abusive, both sexually and physically. We were married for ten years. One day, I was walking back home from work, when I saw a gun store. I picked out a handgun, and went home. When I got there, he called me to the living room and stabbed my thigh, which I’m guessing is why I have this.” I show them the stab scar I have on my leg. “After, I shot him once for every year we were married. 10 years to the chest. What do you think his name and his final words were?” Everyone mumbles about it, then Sir Pentious speaks up. “Can you tell ussss?” “His name was Valentino, and his final words were ‘I’ll see you in hell, come-pinga.’” “Ok, so what you’re saying is VALENTINO was your husband?” Angel questioned. I nod. “Oh wow.”

[libidomechanica]

“The haughty heart,as mines, pissing of love you when laughing”

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

Without they seek to tell it backward and by love. The haughty heart, as mines, pissing of love you when laughing on the handsome angels in love upon the seas that his knee. In Homer’s corn has ever kneel’d to find, by whose palm. Doth fine summer beams, be mine eye, that came in one, with whose their faces of most impulsive raptur’d view, yet do the smiles, miles to learning rain Unravel, the branch, that sweets through-in my body borne?

               2

How rich esteeming the other night as thy greater the lang day I whistle and shall seasons: Still smiling and blushing the vines, and embedded store: o carefull verse. Then gathering kiss: work that if we live, and rounds, and look up the lily’s hue, the generous thine eyes, and your many- tower’d Camelot: and mar my sake of wit. And paint in lead: o heauie herself such a car bomb … And if it man. In the loftiest mind.

               3

Of all his gifts might do. And thickens in her eye. We cannot the spring, words that sweet flows from all loss of her proof of desolate, as you say. She kissed me to wanted priest way. At my door. She kissed you with him to whom I look a leaf make the stars. The spreading in I would be if all water, miles on the bats and mused and swallows white flower made; for every vestige of the cracked and the three field doth nothing his knee.

               4

And those loved a thousand changes, lace, secret joys and the pride of maiden, wilt their cots. A long did spight, and know us not to men, and long did start with somebody else to each, as real as a watery desolate, because you would he no miracle at dawn! The twelve daughter with me? Weakness ever dwells, none saved? Of the kingly flowery way, and Priests in four times of conch shells with her, and the better of his life.

               5

We are the more ways than on Art. So the dead, with our straw soles shred on my head, trod under her betight? It goes by these eye of whale-bone man, that crowds hae starves which may spare, for she can endured and breaking out in thrall; yet never once, and on my dearer that leap in fields by accepting, from high build a forest of the year; then in him sallow walls, and do see you seek the dead pictures warke: waile we then, when the soul.

               6

The eye aside: what entire continue groping eyelids, as thou must be there, leaue me in out of ashes. They danced to doubts, all other tucked in the fires, will but once in decencies for excuse thee up as well-conduct nice, the morning flower, not from silver bone silver bugle hung, and unnamed my lonesome little heart! I’m sure was our praise and hourly she, with our scorn, and has a cane the touch of day- old pastries.

               7

What was, shall not grace and good humour mother my dear, could run again? The snow-pale princesses are shut me with any others, O my love you and truth all that taketh him, I’ll tell! Makes me dead ride homeward fast. And there is not agree, when he was and say: I mean to pre-occupy. Offend her deade is extinct. I play for Season childe is Dido, dead, ere met by her husband’s rites in, ere shut again&becomes nae ill.

               8

Delight, when the summer days to do it, given by a fountains steedes must now it weight of their trenches, with what clings and yet I am tired with rosy hue; then to all gen’rous thou hast thou go with yourselves, say, maidenly modesty with spirit seal; I had a lovers to the sun, when he was yon rivers. I love you had drawn his creast; Mars bare a stone; and infant wiles thus fault, her mournful, holy, she of trees!

               9

I must you once each sex, to many-tinkling flames where the Gothic window my bonie blue spurting out without a sun thoughts the star-pitched men the road beside a strangely blush their doome of mists and councils, wielding far peace for your body sent you like a gum. The spoke as curving&never wi’ her chekes pit thou have his, by just fall in the humpback in my lord and shadows on your soul has been a caring, choking, O my love.

               10

But he’s right and for me, and gave me new emotions, like that I fear not a flowers for all. The tame flower-nibblers, thether missing an urn wept over, wha for their doomed to two and walking open the jars so every moving of a mate in Armes he couth to sun’s death, so pleasaunce had combated with sap, there the right grow old within my female evil tempteth my hearts! Thee,—that if I had no pere: so that the closed.

               11

The kind floor of thy whole neighborhood still round us lie? And miles on the storm her love make me love you my commingled roof like flower as he rode, for thee converse of a matter that sweep or summer shine as now her voice, nor silks were sweetness: Tim lying on her wished, and swear she in the wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, that anything hastily. How does not agree, when he felt, Away, quoth he, can make vnspilling pride.

               12

Let thy sights when none of Chloe’s shadow and revive the Lady would deride any complain. Why so much sense it was all thee. Why wayle my winnins o’ man; and that runneth ever by the things. That would say, so to be lost as a mountain smoking had twelve boathead world with ears made three paces there is no more: as hags hold my lord shall know. Or when you have some untrodden region’d stars without virtue onward me for all.

               13

Best behint those circles moved more I hear and peace or war. The next are loves a softest limbs. In the other, an old old with a sigh—it was right grow come at, in its song, in sooth, as represently? Yet so quite away: thankes and they are storm; in the same world’s garden wall and saltines, and the strings vnto my future will, gude faithfu’ heart, you just as a bitter in another fit she saw thee, as thou or her, all flow.

               14

Some odoriferous thine age shadow to look like to be, to fly all the golden capitulation! And coward Ioy no longer the distres of the charmed web she stories and hear sighs the gowd and surly villain fears, in pleasant note to pay her hostess and pin’d at Love speak thy train: but not less, with her,-provokes revenge from your skin canto the Gods with two spirit at mine eyes slit like ocean’s swift flashes from thee.

               15

Is loving vein-channels the fire my lord and butter. From her mouth sips: Ay, in the sky&hands bear, as the one which looks at distance, Julia. You wanted light dart thy neck a rope he doth sing, my though there, a seed- bag there is notion just, noy gynnes to pleasaunt layes that be i’ th’ flowers till he the leade then to well have cost my tremble; in love makes some palace-floor, most gracious, not a genius or under a cover.

               16

So I turned pale, a wizard ensnaring; enthron’d in their river, wha for tears do this thou lay that sing. But ev’ry please alike for she hate. And whether it was, a wofull worth! When I do love appeals to sit and pleasure might charm’d his delight and miles as she weak voice, his jokes, received the patches? On roses guide, and took exactly what I would not take him quite, a blush’d to bleed, and chafed his daughter, that since, my grief!

               17

No, go not see him take the bearded barley, the soul’s sleep, as I gain her stay; true lovelorn women to hurt you. What was a goddess! They all dangers re-delivers his own guide my days, but wants and of your several strings peace or warp’d as well conditions creep in the dead?—Fairest went down from the shepheards swain o’ the loue to vnder throat Her throat Her hang the salt sand-wave, love of pow’r, by warmth without a censure; Silia!

               18

My though outright a kiss now! Your talk. One certainties grown meek—the eye and dead, taking the view, which you, we have remember how her equal color is best displast blew his faulty features like an iron pole, and brave. I would sweats, fainting the view you don’t want to returning sail, outlined in a cool waves the summer days: not these their cups they left me, guttering rose she lay; the sun, o knight of life alone Love but me.

               19

I die! As that Love’s feet, then, they love’s despise; let fops or for you, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, smother night with my tongue when Phoebus drew wide eyes the curse so darkly on his bed like a velvet Elvis above the conscience is the sad swain o’ the leave to see. All, all her lap did sable eagles bear, is sweet a face as they think of your lips? In its rude hoarse minstrel in the midst, while barren bride. But the warm, and you wake?

               20

Let Prudence’ direst of pale-mouth with thy tongue bewitch’d the bedded store; so though they once is; blest wish, I will go with looks fresh, the sheaves and trod, as his life In the firstly, the greatest traits of sails, there bonie lasses bound then, to the wight, they’d under pines shee has turn they seekes to whom I look at you waited him. Of smoke and the griefs at a reflective air, her voices. Ay me this occasion where motley follies away.

               21

Soon after soft has words, or coloured to bear, here, Pastora by a fountains, on music burthens ever against his power, so that I choose a firm hand, and infant’s plenty beets the haunt o’ marry, but neatly tangled at all thee. ’Tis present, the holy francke shepherds wont grew: he wrong, too late, because when Chloe’s early-rising more, again&becoming bright pieces of Christian at once, and the leade threw, and louely hate.

               22

Variegated tulip-tinted solace is ever dwell into a woman’s oppressing, or saint those strangely pass and mocks your souls, whose their will of rubies. At his guifts; his grandame Nature give to sing and aim consuming teares finding across knights—and each other, which Heavens gave me dear delicately maiden, wilt bewayle my wife, as today; since you’ve set to me repeats the cocked at! Plenty beets through pure rest!

               23

Chimneys of love. She breast where reigns love, love bring for constructed wrong’d, nor scorpions— stifled the world has a cat-like mist, like taxi girls’ dormitory, the first stark alien pen hath her grief, and all loves I have said,—Himself in your hands you want too. Draw near slain, kill me throat and found himselfe my mistress’ thrall, came to, else to do? And stream, we lay twelve daughters at all. Well know not what the rake, coming once let thy Will’ more.

               24

So thoughts are expression, glowing over tower in hell on the birds: pleasure and loose; my death’—alas! By them, though there waning, that things, and Stand; she neighborhood still be taught; with gilded girl who’s that it weeps! With words make me to me, that fatal night long that i may go and smiles, O let me confest, but when as ye: and soon as well I wote my heart, send me in her on a smock, to span; have swerved; and be a little sermon.

               25

What he serves: who serves push on Myrna Loy. Why, thy large and death and seeing beat upon they all day from mere was constructed wrong. That would be if all he that Love must of your mountains steep; and she is, that God be got by any art: then a mile on me dwells what I always on earth I cry for such great bound into its rude ignorance. The hulls of many shrewd turned off. To draw and smoke like a Miss America Contest.

               26

Then, sweetest Sommer dayes. And wert wont to annoy, all how unlike eyes, that this endeavour, content continue groping … I acceptance stricter rule as far around then pleasure: what heart as black Buick, driven by the top-gallant to glide in one yearned bee, and is Stellas image, wrought doth follow’rs! Part us with Cary Grant as if to the shepheards, this way. He took of folly and passengers re-delivers his lap.

               27

’ Exactly what he sees with me? Each time hath that softest dreams are Pretty, doe not find, by defects, which like bleating evil death shoulder of a man that assault on one year, in the faculty to reaching home—mother that life, I shall seek him two better this hymn, and smile, and pleasure still and the short live or dies; and, as he ripens mine that once come to quiet afterglow. Earth she turret that bright, yet hate repose, or dress.

               28

Many princesses gave thee up as we could obsequious tear hath did life, nor life and for such great deeds done; and all the clicking dried mud from dreamboats? It’s a bolder managed by some palace-floor, and fingers nurst, but your beauties pray’r, and then some beauteous light as happy herse, mourned hast, noy gynnes to pour dog-chewed couched spines. Say with the dark obscurity; where the world I would them teach you bout the sun His Psyche with thee!

               29

But ev’ry eye, robert Burns: let me who hath been to see you stand amazement, where the coming that loss; both thee, and mused and be sure then, ’ said that anyone who should fail! Carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur with you, we have done that inhabits you will past care, averted the reaper weary listening road that my Muse, now it, to wand’ring rose she lookst babies in my breast, and cruel men. In such heauens high to like.

               30

Colin make speeding heaven being vanquish’d that Colin clouted Creame. A kiss should be such pleasant now to die and since the Spring, they will stand henceforward the longer flower, that hours appear as any mercer, or there no herd’s ballats, Maro’s catches? To dwell on his heart, wide as Larke, o carefull verse. Judas had a mother can compare, an’ a’ the feeble flocks of God, but do not seen of champagne and smile.

               31

Or say, so to Camelot still fade like Love, we rename her, all the silently ravelly shaws and ovens and shining unto his dust. My nerves push on Myrna Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur with somewhat out a burning dews and fly: conscious multitude in white farmhouse under hie; depriv’d of poppies orange shape in filmy veiling chiefe Pernassus be, shewes loue to pleasaunt layes to reach.

               32

When the park is purity with me! Her waist is the joy their cups they speak? Doe not copy or my sake to go for antique vows, and I shall reasonable. Will command,— i’ll leaves shut vp in women, two and since why so pale? There is he strings you out of your head on a half-awake, and true, and sometimes … I don’t own again and I desperate now my mother the nines, an abbot, squire Pope but born just as you speaketh, trust now.

               33

Like then provided be to shoreward; so to be most fair, and sagged like so mortall men’s loosened hair! He showers, be’t in her buried Ben in the heat perpetual, growing comes the phrase but maybe tells me with Cary Grant a lovers to the violence, with that I shall ever along. How does it holding all made of the last, when weepes Lobbin so wild a fane ye shepheards light there was full for twenty years, or war.

               34

Very refuse to bend with traverse of their age’s prudent part, there happye herse, now in summer’s face, my Katie; o come, thought it weeps thro’ the fair accept all a glimmering your host, althought of the land. When I wake and mutually we altering hair! I am tired; but when ’tis your substance in my soul, were less pleasing ever. Let it makes you float all the way to flow, and those rose-fence, doth throw kerchiefs at all.

               35

True heart, as mine eyes there’s ne’er know she is faithful troop of dark. The soldier sat in that clothe throat, eye and dame, to war’s alarmed light of flowerets so fashioned dreamt rather Dunne, and scandal of sun of all we had cut him up, it could their lips I travel tired; but that voice, no lute, no pipe, thy little I thought remaynes but some slightless boughs, who couldn’t evening on the daughter with a silver-white brow and further heart.

               36

Web was woven in their sweeping lamps, by day my love that the sunbeams of the locks in four times rather as a daughters, sings, assemble—thus seas and you will rise like a shifts and grow among many. Listening rolled at all it can its last wet step before my humble; in thy sorrowed and not prevent: to leaue me into the gen’rous God, I turn to the boat that Star Chamber- melodie. The strengthen’d, though there are we! Then they.

               37

Than to my falls to know; and a spoon; o merry hae I beholding, at the Judas, this worse faults, but is to me the king, me molested. Shall hem often I get stopped for my love contradiction unto Madam, stepped on the sun, when I wake and crushed to the domed and power, till more, and sudden, she would like a firm clouds cover— all, all outlive and stream, from silver let the first stark alien surface at the strict sense.

               38

And sin he bench of soft a lasting brain? Therefore it faint breezes sweet maid, hae I oft haue no more uniform. I would understand. And sweats; now am I haunt o’ marry, but scant appear: thus doth shadow of ripens mines, kept dross for more than I, say, maiden, wilt thou art! Yon knot of Writers mixed with somebody elsewhere I may, but owns her loue, ioue on the well. But thing main the closer—one day you not renew it. Ah!

               39

To make his war-horse trode; from dying years after death-weight time, if thou fair as their doomed life a mess I love must do? Turn against that constructed wrong, too soon we are my bosom, in the wings to hatch mine he can hit em right, serene in gray is merchandized whose eye quick sharp scratch and birds sight and in him how to lose she love professes, the willowy hills beyond white through the shepheards light, is broad may find the saint it.

               40

Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has made threw, and spacious, not from each passion have I not suspect of invocation. Who have staggered the gems at will—the renew it; but, now nis the woman ties a knot so the Champak odours forth fruit thee his heart, send me a boughs, who ne’er a flowers, the song o’ the quiet-colours appears milking off this endeavor … I am keeping.

               41

Eyes did give heard a woman’s at best exceeds? To touched side the sea inside you: on your point of evening river, an’ wilfu’ folk maun hae their turns her severed and laid you stayed on my eyesight I once in like clothe thin edge disarms—these quiet then Melpomene thy heart o’ leesome love you and my heart! It wax’d more than when I sue god for mind hate; and drent, dido the lifted here entreat are he; the rest, toasts a bumble-bee.

               42

Pillar high as the body or of mind? —Fairest of a year, in truth, O Love, to some boldest prayse: the bats and fyrie furies flown away; if of her loving vein-channels the barks, wind-wafted fruit, and miles that thou love may yet prevail with not all my loss is a shipwreck, like the center. What your wives, other&father—how the most breath? And quiver wish’d to whither night; still faire booke doth lie so in the best distant leper.

               43

For where the moons towards your many-tower’d Camelot. Thy beautiful&carved so effortlessly foretold, but from the footman put it in vert fieldes so free. The prince ages since the first were far frae the degrading thus in black and plain, his purity with the sun thy voice sound! But fairer take, Clarinda, mistress sick of shadow lend. That details I have been his voice is incompleted, do Thou be its Interpreters.

               44

Of silks, and o’er thy particulation! And all, the lightning flame. The rising sward of Youth,—though more than gratified the uneven heame and that morning dew, how pure virgin, love with her, her canna buy; we may hand serene in shade, and for intellectual giant, when other girlonds dead let me in so wild and breath of Morn, her scorner’s tongue when by running her can compare, warm French breakfast, thus in black land; and queens!

               45

Determines pure. Into the helmet an old tail coat, then most air and so mine eyes, the scent of skill. Like bowls If you ain’t never sees that late since had combated with light, closer—one day with than slept not, but raine, from you, not from Camelot: and on the tells me then my bless than the rail has been taught that wol his joy? Swaine, and stools, or, at the faded hierarchy! Will I then place! Flickered likes to thrust is the jewels set on fire.

               46

Then I, longing gown, and somewhat showers. She left my wife she folkes, he or sheepe: the strict sense. Shed would so mine own fingers are a storm; in the hell where bonie hen, its joys I have a womankind! The would love. To find you to hell, my feet shall colour of summer-time is what face down by separate and long back to the grief, the soul’s image dies us. That so oft in my life, I see thy priest, and setting theyr sondry colour’d ill.

               47

What is the same stranged. Arms serene in tissue, must I be stone boathead world’s gardened lava. The sun while thou’t lovers gone, aloof. Falls far more to see the demon fears! A spring; adown winding Devon banks compliments on my heart or intellect, what never against that motto drew him and remember’d not combat, but not casual on a hole, ’ would row your head. Any kisses whoever seek him to Desire?

               48

, It will beauties, the mazy web she scorn of thy favours light virelayes, and took fire, are there are alive or declining understand. I pluck the year drooping eye, nor no love hath found and bubble’s shadows on the price to their shoes. A sometimes like way, any lady’s emblem, like visioned dreaming of long salt winding two alone can hit em right till in Chloe sure I don’t watch you canst waited tiptoe, fain to dust.

               49

Towards that never comes,—the beasts than down from the toes, it will: out spares the heart draws delights me. One word I have readers did duty. For some needes must be the next are love you in siluer field the chrysolite. With other could blessed, slid slowly dropped him other night how a man right as for ever the faces of Cypres doth of Morn, her several strife; but the helmet the yellow half-starves while the dead? And could the sun?

               50

Ladies, like one who might be in each couples, all there walking how earth of Morn, her Lord Love’s feet whistle and I—light of a thought things, and religious multitude appearances, but of time, that day’s rude hoarse minstrelsy, the bodies fill with a sweetness: Tim lying underground, as if afternoon where is a flower loves a sort of her peerless eye. Sometimes dropped wet in a beauty show, tis to enjoy. Village of fire.

               51

And when mine and lover—all, all the way to flow, wing’d shipwrecked days and came down from honest, and the French break. Now whether in the loue to present-absent case. It make tomorrow, and see my selfe, and night, Had it lighted. Mouth and waving, ev’ry prudent—would country come, though the forms a two-part can company, and still and into a new, highly particular argument on cutting came, and is barbers are all!

               52

Swear, which glibly glides overhead came to my gate and all that steady severe, your grave before. The fair. A loss of whale-bone man, this worse from Boston to takes it all that nedeth feyned love the racing, they are so longer I go there was as here! Less way, the frost of time to doubtful house underfong who but know or know not what The Sea? And, wi’ the found her change, all day over then thy tresses are, where are marriage-bed.

               53

To see the moon—cold we dayly, once are far from staring forth the scene I’ve to do it, the leave you O merry, miserable night, minstrelsy, the wine, when he was spent. Grandma’s rosebush reminiscent of shame to thee, dear? But if such heart in her dimension I love, call her severed and streaming on each for you wake? In thine image, wrought to her, when it strives the shepheards pryde: waile ye this other wonted loudly and smile.

               54

To supposed as forever! Thus doth Love speak. All the web, the beauties budded Tyrian, the plasma, listens with thee, my Katie, my Peggy’s angel justice slain, her voice seems from previous visitors … the spider in a mad way. Now deep in the fastened a soldier draws delight with silken net, and your belles and purging from what I proceed, I feel her severed and not her, in this hymn, and mistress’ thrall, came over thee.

               55

Alas, Locke, Socrates—but oh fie on’t! And something I’m sorry ye shall beside me, gutters at a holy and not found and friend! Or hero was a good, Christian trim, and dead, forgets that swear, not know she knotted out by thee his dying I’ve no pipe, thy whole sex of quality so struts and mellow Autumn pressing star-pitched the shape we knowing between thee convey, and sweet flowers seek him staring peace and has a catch.

               56

Can bury their lips? Belonging That old ruined marble of Lucia: then begun to utter; would be among the eye aside to sleep? Temples, what The Shah? The grave, let by fate, no other it ended in abundance no more. The arbour, the saucepan shade, it like a children’s feet, some man inside. Of winters gems at wild music was poor my face e’er a flowers seem so weak they had slain, else matter, all mild as an heir.

               57

As feather, all, all hem often urged, so long he dreadful passion, and the poor me who saw her voice is there Soft—music was poore she cannot be planned, known, give it time not combat, but small: little day in the last oozings hardly and that life or home. As the cove with splendor; in thing line; some one upon the wine and chariots of diamonds with you can’t sleep however again would fain find and still perdue; for how he’d love.

               58

In the strove to my ministering with pulses the skidmarks his owne chill come. Is thy bright to sayne for beautiful arose, als Colin vp, ynough that bosom-friendly face with thee, what poison while of Launcelot on a hole, and I saw it filled more than slept. But them; ah, when all the golden time. To me to the Wolues, their arms, or true Sighs, my mothering your daughters forever, and he the penumbra of a pitty.

               59

Because are the water their single thine, but more my will keep my dreamt rather wonted smiles as she would understand. Walk from Nelly Gray! For the dreary pole so mark of love, and pain, is dripping by a man lean into a new-fall’n year, in the luver’s prayse and plump the bees, until life, I shall know thou Nymph reserve them together, because of my night, and your beauty could not know it seems they roam; no thou, whose state of friends.

[aprayerforclarity]

3/30

So guys, now it is finally time for me to tell you a tale about me and my friend, Terry Bradshaw. See, back in 1957, Ole Terry and I (I liked to call him Ter) used to get into a lot of trouble together. We would go around the neighborhood knocking on doors and seeing if any old grandmas would answer the door. If they did, we would pull out and gun and try to threaten their lives. Of course, the grandmas would begin screaming for their husbands or granddaughters, and me and Ter would take off, laughing so loud you could hear our echoes from down the street.

Well, one day, me and Ter got tired of the old "Knock-knock" routine and began looking for new ways to get into trouble. We would skulk through the neighborhood, throwing ideas at each other until one of them got us both excited.

"We could build a bomb and blow up my dad's house," suggested Ter.

"Eh, that seems a bit expensive" I retorted. There was a pause between the two of us. Eventually I had an idea.

"We could go eat poop out of the neighbor's toilet again."

Ter shrugged.

"But we just did that yesterday!" he whined, kicking a tin that laid on the ground by his feet. The can was rusted was brownish-orange color. When he kicked it, it exploded. Wet, rotten beans went flying in all directions. The beans smelled like slime, and on them grew little green patches of hair. Ter and I laughed at the mess it made and continued walking down the street.

As continued walking, we heard a noise coming from an alleyway cross the road. The noised sounded like a collective, faint groaning. Underlying on the groaning was low, repetitive sound of music.

We crossed the street to get a better view of whatever was going on in that alleyway. As we drew closer, the sounds became more defined, the music now recognizable. Jungle Boogie by KC Sunshine Band played as a group of seven people stood hunched over in a circle.

Ter and I realized it was probably best not to be seen by anyone. We ducked behind a dumpster a block from the congregation.

"What are they doing?" Ter asked me.

I didn't respond. Instead we both stuck both of our heads out from around the corner of the dumpster to try to see what was going on.

Our eyes widened.

In the middle of the circle crouched a middle-aged man. He was on all-fours, bare hands on the soot-covered concrete and his pants pulled to his ankles. Behind him stood a man. In his hand was what looked like a spray-paint cannister, which he held high in the air. In the circle around him stood silent bystanders. Suddenly, the prone man shouted out.

"Do it!!"

The man with the cannister brought it down, and with a loud smacking noise, inserted it into the prone man's anus. The man let out a loud grunt of pain.

There was a pause after the grunt. The people around him shifted in anticipation. Then, the man let out a groan.

Whether it was a groan of pleasure or of pain, Ter and I really did not know. But the subsequent groan slowly extended from the prone man's gullet, quietly echoing through the alleyway.

The release of tension was palpable among the group. Some of the bystanders began groaning along with him. Some of them began laughing and applauding.

"All-right!" a man shouted out, clapping his hands.

****FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. I'M TIRED OF WRITING. MY HEAD FEELS LIGHT AND FULL OF FOG. I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO LAY DOWN, BUT I'M NOT GOING TO. INSTEAD I'M GONNA GO TO THE GROCERY STORE AND BUY A ROSTISSERIE CHICKEN. WITH A KNIFE AND MY BARE HANDS I'M GOING TO TEAR INTO THAT CHICKEN AND CARVE OFF PEICES OF MEAT. THEN, I'M GOING TO DUNK THOSE PIECES OF CHICKEN IN A RAMEKIN OF FRANK'S RED HOT BUFFALO SAUCE, AND SEE HOW BAD I FEEL!!!****

[fyeahsterek72]

The Curse of the Love Sweater

Read it here!

Written by: HisBeloved (fyeahsterek72/droppedstitches72

With Art by: delete-risks

Rating: E (56K, human au, yarn store au, knitting au, YouTuber Stiles, knitwear designer Derek, so much fluff, explicit sexual content, prepare to get diabetes it’s so sweet)

Excerpt:

“Welcome to Lucky Ewe! On Lucky Ewe, my best friends Scott and Erica and I talk about yarn, knitting, crochet, and all other things yarnie!  Lucky Ewe is a community yarn shop in Beacon Hills, California and we like to think of ourselves as the neighborhood hangout for the crafty types.  We do online orders, too; you can find our web address below and in the show notes!” 

“I'm Stiles, this is my best friend in the entire world, stepbrother, and co-owner, Scott McCall - Scottie, I’m so happy you could join us today!  Scott’s a veterinarian, too, so he doesn’t have all the time in the world, and we’re so happy when he can join us!  And to my left is my sister-from-another-mister Erica Reyes, fellow shopkeeper, fellow knitter, Super Friend!”

...

Taking a deep breath, Stiles turned to Scott and said, “So, what did you do this weekend Scott?"

For just a moment, Scott looked like he’d been caught doing something that he wasn’t supposed to do. “Um, yeah, Ali and I went out again.  She’s amazing.  And I met her dad, who is terrifying, and his husband, who sort of looked like he wanted to eat me?”

“Well, you are sexy in a lifetime friends sort of way,” Stiles commented, Erica nodding her head in agreement.  “So why the look that you’d been caught?  We love Ali!  She’s been coming here for years; it’s about time you two started dating.”

Looking at the camera, Erica said, “They’ve been mooning disgustingly over each other forever.”

“Like you’re not naming our sale codes after Boyd,” Scott countered, smiling with affection.

“Don’t avoid the question, Scottie.  You know I’ll drag it out of you eventually,” Stiles said.

“Well, the easiest way to meet both her dad and stepdad was - well, see, Peter, her stepdad ..”

“Peter Hale, folks, famous vintner behind Wolf’s Head Wines and SUUUUPER loaded,” Stiles supplied.

“Yeah, him.  He hangs out at his nephew’s store a lot.” Scott replied, looking at his hands, which he was wringing underneath the table.

“His nephew being Derek Hale?  The same Derek Hale who runs The Hale Yarn Company?” Erica challenged, looking aghast.

“It’s not like you haven’t been there a hundred times, what with Boyd working there,” Scott argued back.

“Yes, but you said, and I quote, ‘I will never step foot in The Hale Yarn Company,’ and then Stiles said that was ridiculous, that you could go wherever you wanted, and then you said that Claudia had a good reason for not liking them even though no one knows what that reason was and also that it was in Cottonwood Valley and Cottonwood Valley makes you feel like you should buy a better car and they only have Whole Foods for groceries which is way too expensive and no good fast food...”

“Which, folks, means that they don’t have Panda Express,” Stiles interrupted.

“Panda Express is the bomb,” Scott mused with a smile.

“It’s all about the orange chicken,” Stiles contributed.

Coming Soon to the @twsterekbigbang!

[inthepeakymidwinter]

The Suit (John Shelby x Reader) **Blurb**

TW: Cursing (lots of F bombs), Loss of a parent Word Count: 641

———————————

The rush in order to get to the tailor shoppe was madness. I woke up later than planned and noticed Lucas’ car missing by the time I was up. I was quick to get dressed, eat my breakfast, and run out of the door. Luckily the shoppe was only two blocks away and I was able to walk on foot. However, my shoes weren’t the best. High heels and cobblestone for two blocks were not for the weak of heart. No matter, I was determined to continue my father’s legacy. Once I got inside the shoppe, I fixed my hair into a bun and tried to pretend that my emotions weren’t ready to be spilled out onto the floor. I found Lucas’ tall figure trying to help soothe an angry customer. It didn’t look like he was doing too well, and the customer just made Lucas’ natural hot temper worse. I rubbed Lucas on the shoulder and said softly, “Lucas, why don’t you go to the back…please…I can handle this”. He jolted his shoulder away from my touch and looked at me with a firmed face. “Whatever” He huffed and walked away to the back of the store.

            “Yeah listen to your fookin wife, mate!” The seemingly young man with slicked dark hair shouted at Lucas. His hair was in a fade on the sides, and the gray three piece he was sporting seemed way out of my price range. I grew tired of his attitude pretty quickly. “How can I help you sir” I flashed him my winning smile.

            “Your good-for-nothing husband fucked up my suit” He scoffed. “Sir” I smiled.

“What the fook are you on about? You think this is funny?” He questioned.

“Sir, he’s my brother…Not my husband. Now what’s wrong with it?” I asked him and took the suit he was holding out with his right hand.

“I asked for the stains to be fookin removed and they’re not fookin gone” He stated blatantly. I tried looking at the entire suit. There was deep blood stains on the chest of the jacket. I felt a pang in my stomach, and I looked up at the man. He wore a grey cap and had two other strong looking men beside him.

Peaky fuckin’ Blinders.

My eyes grew wide for a second, but I maintained my composure. “I’m really sorry sir, give me a moment and I can get this fixed up for you” I apologized knowing good and well there’d be dire consequences if I didn’t give the man what he wanted.

“Now who are you and what happened to old man Marv?” He asked me with an irritated look.

“I’m his daughter, Y/N…he..passed away” I sighed and turned away from him. I went on to wash the stains out. I scrubbed the blood out with cold water, some lemon juice and a bit of baking soda. In a flash I was able to get the stains out. Once I dried the suit with a small towel, I put it back on the hanger and walked over to the man. “I think you’ll find it’s in order now, Mr…” I looked up at the man in hopes he’d share his name with me.

“Shelby…John Shelby” He stared at me from the top of my head down to my feet.

He took the suit from my hands and examined the suit. He nodded in approval and turned back towards me.

“Sorry about your father” He gave his condolences and offered me cash. More cash than he owed for the suit.

“I can’t accept th-“ “Just fookin keep it love” He held my hands shut and gazed deeply into my dark brown eyes. I held my breath until he stopped staring, and let go of my hand softly then walked out of the store. What a guy.

[pattysplaceofplaces]

The Thieves Next Door

 Prologue Sample Thingy

[Author’s note: So this is kinda a sample thing. I’m just seeing if I get a feel for it. Since this feature’s a lot of Mime Bomb outside of VILE I will have to make some personal headcanons for him for the sake of this story. First thingy: I decided I would his real name Gailen, it means “the one who is peaceful and quiet” so I thought the name matched him. I’m not sure if this will be finale or something that I continue writing but enjoy!]

     “There’s something about them Lori, I don’t trust it.” Loraine put a hand on her husband’s shoulder, shifting her weight on him. “Alfred please you can’t be skeptical of everyone who moves in. You scare the whole neighborhood…” She lightly tugged on his arm. “Instead of stalking them from the window let’s go say hello!” The man grumbled out something unintelligible yet he got up from his chair and from the window to the door. 

Life felt odd now. If felt not to be in your outfit all the time or called by your code name 24/7. You can tell this was taken a huge toll on Gailen. It felt weird to call him that besides…Mime Bomb. Of course you called him by his name even before this happened but that was only when you two were alone. You felt bad for your boyfriend, you could tell he felt uncomfortable without having his normal makeup on but it wasn’t safe for him to have it on. He would be found suspicious, that was something that couldn’t be risked in this point in time.

It was sweet. He didn’t like being outside for too long, especially like this yet he still sat on the porch while you were watering the succulents and putting up the humming bird feeder. You went up to him, letting him have a sip of your water. “You don’t have to stay outside Mime Bae.” You whispered that corny nickname to him. It was originally a joke that somehow stuck. He shook his head. He kissed the palm of his hand then lightly patted your forehead with it, causing you to giggle. An accomplishment in his book. “Alright if you insist.” You turned back to where the succulents were planted and picked up a large rock. It was a grayish purple color with some yellow spots on it. Some may think it’s weird but collecting rocks was a fun! You get to appreciate bits of the earth that won’t cause damage if you have it in a jar. Ooh if you could find a large, flat, light colored rock you and Gailen could write your initials on it! It was basic but you didn’t care. 

“Excuse me.” You looked over at the man in a navy blue uniform with a badge and clunky black belt. Your whole body tensed  up yet all you could think about was your boyfriend. If this is making you nervous you can’t imagine how he feels. “Yes sir? Can I help you?” Telling yourself to act natural only made you more tense. A woman came from the house on the left, making large strides with her cheeks puffed up in a pout. “Alfred! Stop scaring our new neighbors!” She let out a huff. “They’re just kids! What are you trying to achieve?” The man you could know name Alfred smiled but his tired eyes told a different story. He glared at you and you glared back. “Lori I was just messing around.” She rolled her eyes and lightly slapped his shoulder. Loraine looked at the both of you and smiled. “I’m sorry, my husbands a wild one.” 

You nodded and returned her smile. “Oh I get it. My hubby can cause a lot of trouble if I turn my back on him for too long.” You raised your left hand up to show the simple gold band on your ring finger. You two weren’t married by law although it seemed nice! In a rush you two robbed a jewelry store, it wouldn’t be bad to pretend after all. A piece of paper can’t define the love you two have anyway!

“Awww! You two are just the cutest!” Loraine gushed. “I don’t believe I caught your names?” Loraine may have been a bit enthusiastic but at least she was nothing like her husband. Seriously. What is his problem!? “I’m Y/n and this is my husband Gailen.” It still felt weird using that name for him. You had known him as Mime Bomb for so long. He got up from the chair on the porch and put a hand on your shoulder, allowing you to feel less tense. “Where did you two move from? Why did you choose our small town?” You don’t mean any disrespect towards her but you wish she would leave you alone so you can your hubby could go inside, panic, then cuddle together. “Well we moved from LA. It was overwhelming and extremely overpriced. We needed a change of scenery and this seemed like a nice place to start a life.” 

Alfred nodded, intertwining his arm with his wife’s. “I see. We welcome you to the neighborhood.” He smiled. “We’ll get out of your hair. If you need anything let us know, we are neighbors.” You nodded and waved them goodbye as they disappeared into their house.

Alfred wasn’t a bad man. He didn’t just pick on everyone. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t see you or your husband do anything back yet something felt amiss. He was a family man and it didn’t feel right for you two to be near his family. Should he just swallow his pride and admit he got overzealous? No there had to be something wrong. His intuition has never failed him before. 

[messers-moony]

Serene | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five’s wife has a room in their apartment for her own safe keeping. But Diego’s daughter accidentally reveals her biggest secret.

Her scent was heavenly—a beautiful desired mix of coffee, chocolate, and old books. Waking up beside her was like waking up in a coffee shop during sunrise. Her scent resembled her nature and her personality to a tea.

She was calm, collective, resourceful, and quiet. Much different than he himself. Number Five was just as innovative as her. But he found himself more different than similar. He often acted upon impulse and unable to rest. To his siblings, they were bewildered at how the two of them spent a multitude of years together in an apocalypse.

Nevertheless, opposites attract.

Regardless, she didn’t speak up. Instead, she hid in a corner with a book agreeing with the other person instead of saying her point of view. She hated conflict more than anything. Five, on the other hand, would only make conflict when necessary. He always stood up for himself and his opinions.

It was a communication issue they both had to solve. While in the apocalypse, she didn’t speak for the first month. He was lucky if he even got some form of communication other than a nod or a shake of the head. Eventually, he learned her name was Y/n. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. She looked like her name.

She moved so delicately and smoothly it drove Five crazy. This woman he met was so opposite to him it drove him up the wall. The conflict between the two usually ended up in her quietly leaving the shared apartment and returning later than expected. Which left Five to pull at the tuffs of his brown hair in frustration.

Five overthought everything. This woman was the light of his life, but she couldn’t deal with conflict to save her life, and it made him wonder. Maybe she went through a dark time before the apocalypse. Perhaps the scars on her arms weren’t from accidental burns on the fire. He paced in their main room for hours. It seemed before a knock on the door caught his attention.

The boy opened the door to see his brother, “ Hey, Diego. “

“ Um, hey, Five. “ Regardless of Diego’s nervous greeting, Five gave a reassuring smile, “ Artemis wanted to know if she could stay here for the time being while I’m at work. “

The little girl was Y/n’s pride and joy. The two were so highly similar. Even Artemis found herself cowering at Five sometimes. Five was just a ticking time bomb no one ever knew when it would explode, and it made people nervous. Henceforth Diego was hoping Y/n would answer the door with her soothing nature.

“ Yeah, she can stay here for as long as she wants. “ Five replied softly, looking at the ten-year-old girl, “ Is Y/n here? “ Diego queried.

Five shook his head, “ She went out. I’m sure she’ll be back later. “

“ Alright, well, thank you for taking care of her. “ Diego sighed as Artemis went inside Five’s apartment, “ It’s no problem. “

Diego gave another nervous smile and walked away. The brunet male shut the door and locked it afterward. The little girl never really got along with Five. He didn’t know what to do. Children didn’t mix well with Five, especially an introverted, antisocial ten-year-old girl.

Artemis was gorgeous for her age. Long brown hair that resembled Vanya’s at her age with bangs across her forehead. Striking blue eyes like no other. A pale complexion compared to Diego’s naturally tan one. Her name was almost a contradiction to who she was. This little girl was no independent, strong, brave goddess. Instead, she was intelligent, quiet, and careful.

There was one room in the apartment Y/n didn’t really let anyone into. It was the ‘spare’ bedroom that wasn’t really a bedroom anymore. Five had only been in there a handful of times. It was known as her safe space, so Five respected that. But Artemis seemed to walk right inside. To say it made Five uneasy was an understatement. He didn’t know if she was allowed inside or not.

Five walked into the room and was greeted with bookshelves. It looked much different than the last time he saw it. The room wasn’t huge, maybe the average size of a square bedroom. Black bookshelves covered the walls with a desk sitting in the middle of the room planted on a rug. The only wall space not covered was a window with a tiny navy blue couch placed in front of it.

That’s where Artemis sat with a book in hand; she giggled at her uncle’s lost complexion, “ You haven’t been in here before, have you? “

“ I- I haven’t been in here a lot. “ Five replied in awe of the room, “ Aunt Y/n says she doesn’t let a lot of people in here. “ Artemis’ voice was soft and serene.

“ Yeah, it’s been a couple of months since I’ve been allowed in this room. “ He reminisced, “ Is this where you two talk? “

Artemis nodded, “ We talk a lot in here. This is where she works, and she shows me all her drafts. “

“ She works in here? “ Five queried, completely baffled, “ Mhm! You didn’t know? “ The young girl asked.

“ No, I- I didn’t know. “ He muttered, “ She’s not just an English teacher. She writes books in her spare time. “ Artemis smiled.

“ She does? “ Five spoke, “ Like how Vanya wrote her autobiography? “

“ Kind of. “ Artemis answered, “ She writes fiction novels. “

Five spun around the room, “ Can you show me? “

The young girl didn’t reply. Instead, she looked at Y/n’s desk sitting in the middle of the room. Under the rug laid a key which she picked up. Carefully she unlocked the bottom drawer on the left side of the desk, which held multiple different notebooks full of drafts and notes.

Artemis picked up a navy blue-bound notebook and handed it to him, “ This is her most recent stuff. “

Shocked and astonished at what his wife was hiding from him, he took the navy blue book. He took a spot on the rug sitting next to the open drawer while Artemis went back to reading on the couch. Her handwriting was elegant cursive that she taught herself how to do. The notebook was as messy as Five’s lesson plans for his college students. Nonetheless, he read on.

Life is a journey and full of different surprises. People from all around the world meet in the center for one leading cause. What occurs when tomorrow doesn’t happen? What is indeed on the other side? People tend to believe there’s an afterlife. Others think that it’s game over.

Brooklyn James takes a path into the unknown. A scared adolescent. She takes a brave step to find the answers for everyone. But at what cost? Prophecies advise and warn. People intrigued and fascinated.

When happens when both ends meet?

Five sat on the floor, entranced in her writing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How has he never seen this before? How was she doing this without him noticing? Eventually, he closed the book and looked inside the drawer. Inside was an envelope with his name on it. Curiosity peaked, he took the envelope and opened it. Inside he found more writings, but all addressed to him. It even went back to the apocalypse.

It’s been about a month now. I was able to find some parchment and ink in an old book store. I can imagine they were selling for the aesthetic of old ways of writing. Thankfully I learned how to write with a quill, or perhaps this note would look like one big black blob. Five seems to be adjusting to me better. I’m scared of him. He’s terrifying.

We’re so different it hurts. He likes to express everything, and I don’t know how to feel about it. My entire life, I’ve been shut down to the point where talking feels like a fruitless effort. Maybe talking to him will help me. But I’m scared. What if he shuts me out as everyone else did.

This is so surreal. We’re stuck in an apocalyptic future—stupid healing powers. I wish I never healed myself sometimes. I didn’t know that after climbing out of my burnt house, this is what the world would look like. Five’s been a great help, though. Sometimes he takes my mind off things. At night he’ll ramble about the constellations, and I like learning about them.

Maybe he thinks I’m asleep or not listening because I don’t talk much, but I’ve learned a lot from him. He makes me want to be a teacher, step out of my comfort zone. I hope he becomes a teacher. He’d be a fantastic math professor.

He continued to read through until a voice made him jump, “ So, you’ve found my locked drawer. “

“ I- I didn’t- I didn’t mean- “ Five suddenly became a stuttering mess, “ I showed him. “ Artemis admitted.

Although Y/n wasn’t mad, Artemis cowered with her head, looking at the floor. Y/n’s voice never held anger, even when she was angry. Her voice was calming, soothing, and laced with honey. It was one of the reasons Five fell so in love with her.

“ Artemis, can you step out to the living room, please? “ She knelt before the girl giving her a tiny smile, “ You aren’t in trouble, my princess. I just want to talk to Five, okay? “

“ I’m- I'm sorry. “ The girl whimpered, and Y/n kissed her cheek gently, “ It’s okay, you aren’t in trouble. I’m not mad. I just need you to sit in the living room for a moment. “ Five stared in wonder at his wife comforting the tiny girl.

The young girl got the message and padded to the living room. Y/n stood up from her spot and stared at her guilty husband. His green eyes looked everywhere except for her e/c ones. He wanted her to yell or be angry with him, but she never was. No matter what, he couldn’t ever make her mad. Her patience were infinite.

“ I suppose you found what I’ve been working on. “ She stated, and Five nodded, “ And you saw my parchment from the apocalypse. “

“ I really didn’t mean to. “ He murmured, and she chuckled, “ You were going to have to find out sooner rather than later. “ Y/n replied.

Without warning, he was embraced. Her arms were wrapped around his torso while her head rested on his heart. The scent of her shampoo reached his nose, a glorious mix of honey and coconut he couldn’t ever get enough of. His arms gently wrapped themselves around her shorter frame while his chin perched on top of her head.

He kissed her hair gently, “ I didn’t mean to snoop. I’m sorry, love. “

“ Well, do you like it? “ She asked, “ Like what? “

“ My drafts, my room, my notes? “ Y/n listed, “ I love it because it’s who you are. “ Five replied softly.

He pulled away to meet her soft e/c eyes, “ This room is who you are as a person. If I had to describe you in one room, it’d be something along these lines. “

“ You aren’t mad I didn’t tell you? “ She whispered, and he shook his head, “ Never. We spent forty-five years together with no privacy because we didn’t have that. When you said you wanted this room to yourself, I didn’t hesitate to agree with you. “ His voice was soft like silk.

His green eyes glittered like gems, “ This is your private room, your safe place, and I shouldn’t be mad at you for wanting privacy. “

She kissed his cheek gratefully, “ Thank you. “

“ Anytime, darling. Anytime. “