#but anyways!!!!! i’m trying to convince my dad to move when i also need to move out so he can do swing by here on his way to texas 😭

[francisforever2014]

my dad did something to fuck up the whole family so now i’m trying to convince him (subliminally) to come down here to help me move in summer . you know as reparations

[foliosriot]

SCREAM

ghostface!noah sebastian x reader

WARNINGS!!

talk of death and murder. brief knife-play. vaginal fingering. p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, my friends). pre-kink. fear-play i guess. non-con but becomes con. please let me know if i missed anything else! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you.

TAGS!!

@starsomens @cncohshit @concretenoah + everyone else who didn’t know they needed ghostface!noah in their lives hehe

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

happy halloween, my fellow noah whores >:)

masterlist

You will admit: the recent string of murders have had your guts twisted with fear and anxiety. Because what if it’s someone you know next? What if it’s one of your friends? What if it’s you?

It has been terrifying just trying to exist the past week and a half. Three people were already dead, and who knows when the next person would be found mutilated? The last one was just down the street from you, for fuck’s sake! What’s stopping that masked psycho from claiming every other life — including yours — on your street?

Nothing, you’re sure. Serial killers are hardly ever satisfied. And this one is absolutely fucking insatiable.

However, right now, it’s a little hard to think about a psychotic killer with your boyfriend looking the way he does. He’s standing in your little kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if you stay over, Noah,” you finally manage to say. Noah had asked if he could stay over for the night what felt like an eternity ago. You had struggled to comprehend what he had said, and were only able to respond when your best friend and roommate, Olivia, had walked up next to you.

“Why not?” Noah asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“There’s a murderer on the loose, remember, dickhead?” Olivia snaps at him. “I would rather not come back to find my best friend all dead and bloody, then adding you into the mix just to make it worse.”

Olivia had a family reunion she had to go to, something that had been planned in advance long before any of the murders had taken place. She wasn’t able to get out of it, nor was she able to convince her parents to let you tag along, even though they love you like you were their own. She was heading to the airport later tonight and coming back in two days.

You watch Noah shoot a glare at Olivia as he says, “Yeah, I’m aware there’s a murderer on the loose. But I, also, would rather not come back here to see my girlfriend dead.”

As Olivia is clearly gearing up to launch herself into a heated debacle with Noah, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” you assure them, hoping they can’t hear the waver in your voice. “After I take Olivia to the airport I’ll lock the doors and windows, turn off all the lights, then sleep with my dad’s old baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, Noah has a label meeting early tomorrow morning, so he should just head home to get some sleep for once.”

Neither of them look particularly convinced. But the mention of the metal bat seems to be enough for their tense limbs to relax.

This is the exact reason your dad gave you his bat when you first moved out, anyways. He wanted you to be safe and to protect yourself in case of an emergency. And this seems to be an emergency worthy of the beloved metal bat.

Olivia sighs dramatically from beside you. “Fine. The bat is better than nothing.” She returns Noah’s glare. “You better be gone by the time we leave for the airport in an hour.”

Noah clenches his jaw. “Got it,” he says.

With an annoyed grumble, Olivia turns on her heel and stomps towards her bedroom. Your boyfriend and your best friend have never really gotten along, simply because they both want what’s best for you and they both tend to believe they know exactly what that is. They butt heads a lot when it comes to you. Thankfully, they know they can’t have you without the other, so it’s become a resigned acceptance between them, however uncomfortable they may be about it.

You are finally able to relax your shoulders after you hear Olivia shut her door with a loud thud. Olivia is very overprotective of you and would just have you attached at the hip if she could. But sometimes her worry is suffocating. Like now. So you know she just needs a few minutes to herself before she gets on her flight.

“Did you have to be such an asshole?” you say to Noah.

“How was I being an asshole?” Noah fires back as he sets his mug down by the sink.

“You never seem to know when to stop antagonizing Olivia.”

“Well, excuse me for being worried about your safety. She’s not the only one who gets a say in this shit.”

“And you do?” you scoff, resting your hands on your hips. “So would you be okay with me unlocking every door and opening every window? Turn on each light so I’m just a fucking beacon for the murderer to come and get me next?”

Noah narrows his eyes as he stares at you. You’re now beginning to forget any thought of a psycho killer, and instead thinking of letting Noah stay tonight anyways. Let him keep you safe while also letting him do whatever he wants to you. The idea is very enticing.

“But if you don’t want that to happen, just stay the night, ‘cause I know you want to,” you encourage Noah, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “You’ll still be there for the label meeting. Olivia doesn’t have to know. Come over and keep me safe.”

Silence falls around you. Noah just continues to look at you with a dark gleam in his eyes, and you can feel a white hot knot beginning to coil down in the depths of your stomach. You shift slightly under his gaze.

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit at him immediately, knowing with 100% certainty that he is going to make you pay for that comment.

“I will if you stop being a fucking brat,” Noah counters sharply. “Unless you want to keep being one, and end up being punished for it.”

You remain where you’re standing. You have zero intentions on obeying Noah, nor do you plan on dropping the bratty act. Noah loves it when you’re being a bratty bitch and defying his orders, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it. You know what it does to him, so why stop?

“Stay tonight.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain fixed on you, and you can feel the searing sensation of his irises roving over every inch of your body. You shift once more, hoping he doesn’t catch the movement, but you know he does.

“Come here.”

His tone is almost casual. It catches you slightly off-guard that he appears to be mildly bored, when he would normally be demanding you to approach. But you’re feeling defiant, because what is he gonna do if he doesn’t get dominant with you?

“No, I’m okay,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m not feeling very passive at the moment. Thank you, though.”

That earns you a glare. You can see the way Noah takes a grounding deep breath as his gaze darkens even more. You watch him cross his tattooed arms over his chest as he settles his weight back against the kitchen counter. He angles his head downwards, his eyes still trained on you.

God, is he trying to scare you? Because if that’s the case, he needs to rethink his fear tactics.

“I’m not afraid of you, Noah,” you practically scoff at him.

“Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me?” he asks lowly. The tenor of his voice hums in your ears.

“No.”

Noah doesn’t say anything in response. He just continues staring at you intently, his dark gaze fixed on you wholly. You aren’t able to detect any emotion in his eyes or facial features. If you couldn’t see the subtle rise and fall of his chest you’d think he were a statue — a man carved from marble with numerous, intricate paintings spanning across the beautiful stone.

As the silence drags on you begin to grow uncomfortable. Noah staring at you isn’t what’s causing you discomfort; no, it’s the anticipation and sense of the unknown he’s letting fall over you. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth and begin chewing on the skin.

But then the corner of his mouth twitches upward. The action is sly and riddled with intention.

“Then I won’t start now,” he finally says. “Unless you want me to.”

His word choice is deliberate, each one laced with a level of teasing you don’t think you have ever heard come out of Noah’s mouth. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows it is finally getting to you in the way he had initially wanted.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Noah asks. His voice is firmer as he speaks. “You gonna come over here like a good girl … or will I be giving you a reason to be afraid of me? Either way it’ll be worth it, I’m sure. But hey, your choice, princess.”

Now, there is the commanding voice you had been expecting from the start. And your heart is pumping uncontrollably now. The pulse buried beneath the surface of your neck is throbbing and vibrating, making the blood roar loudly in your ears.

He’s giving you an obvious choice: admit you were being a brat and surrender. Or, run like your life depends on it. Because it might at some point, in a manner of speaking, you realize.

“Oh, but I don’t wanna scare you too bad,” Noah continues nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather or something. “Especially with that psycho killer on the loose and everything, y’know.”

You’re gonna kill him. He’s being a complete ass but being so unreasonably cool and collected about it. He knows he’s getting under your skin, burrowing further beneath your veins and tendons. It has you growing enraged and annoyed with his antics, despite that searing hot coil deep in your belly.

When Noah casually pushes away from the counter, you stagger back a few steps. His grin slowly grows as he makes his way in your direction. Your feet seem to be glued to the floor as Noah is now towering over you.

“You’re gonna pay for that, by the way,” he murmurs. He brings his hand up to your face, and grips your chin between his fingers. “But not tonight. You said it yourself, princess: I have a label meeting early in the morning.”

Noah uses his grip on your chin to tug your face towards his. Your lips meet in the middle, and Noah already has his tongue in your mouth before you can process what’s happening. And you have half a brain to kiss him back, but he’s pulled away by the time you manage to catch up. You can’t control the whine that bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says with a grin. “I love you.”

Then he’s stepping out of your space and leaving through the front door.

He leaves you breathing heavily. You nearly sprint outside and stop Noah from leaving when you hear someone walking up behind you.

“Oh, good. He’s gone.” Olivia’s voice nearly startles you. “I’ve got my stuff ready so let’s just go now. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but your brain feels fried. Your entire nervous system just got short circuited because Noah thought it would be fun to mess with you. He knows you want him to stay over while Olivia’s gone. And, you know he wants to stay over. So why did he just blow you off like that?

You don’t give yourself time to think it over before you’re following Olivia outside. You let Olivia drown you in conversation on the drive to the airport. She doesn’t appear to notice your weird behavior, or, if she has noticed, she doesn’t mention it.

But then she’s getting out of the car with her bags and you’re hugging her and you watch as she walks inside the airport and leaves you behind.

You feel like screaming.

The drive home feels like a blur. You wish you would be arriving home to see Noah waiting for you, but the house is empty. Annoyance strikes your intestines as you do what you promised initially: lock the doors, close the windows, turn off all the lights, put baseball bat at bedside.

It still feels wrong somehow. You want Noah with you, even though he has that meeting very early in the morning. In order to remedy his absence you tug on one of his sweatshirts before climbing into bed.

The next day drags on. Olivia had texted you when her flight landed and when she was reunited with her family. Noah had sent a good morning text and nothing else. You were growing increasingly angry as the hours ticked by.

You were off work today, so you had the entire day to do what you want. But your brain was vibrating with anxiety and had you stuck on the couch. You were able to get through an entire season of your favorite show, though! It still didn’t feel right.

The sun had long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you’re rummaging through the kitchen to find something to eat for dinner. You settle on making some mac ‘n cheese, and get to work.

You’re pouring the small pot of hot noodles and water into the colander that sits in the sink when the phone rings. Another thing your dad had insisted on when you moved out: a fucking landline phone. You thought it was ridiculous, but you had humored him anyways by getting one.

With the noodles in the colander and the hot metal pot set aside you reach for the phone. You press answer and stick it between your ear and shoulder as you continue making your dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Can I help you?”

“Who are you?”

“I dunno, who are you trying to reach?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Must be wrong number. Don’t worry — it happens.”

You’re quick to transfer the phone back in to your hand and end the call. Dialing the wrong number happens all the time, so the oddity of it doesn’t irk you.

Not until you have the mac ‘n cheese all ready a couple minutes later and the landline rings once more. You furrow your eyebrows as you go to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number again.”

It’s that same voice. There’s a familiarity to it you can’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s alright. I’ll let you go so you can try again. Third time’s the charm, right?”

You’re about to put the phone down when the person on the other end stops you, saying, “Wait! Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Just in case I accidentally call you again, of course.”

“Well, I’m confident you won’t. You’ve got this.”

“In the meantime, as I’m trying to remember the correct number, let’s play a game.”

You roll your eyes. “A game? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun,” the person says simply. “Plus, I think we’re friends now, so it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I guess…”

“Good. Answer a series of questions correctly and you win. Answer incorrectly, and I win.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Whatever they want.”

You consider this for a moment. Because what’s the harm in answering some meaningless questions from a stranger? But you find yourself anxiously rethinking your decision even as you agree.

“Good. I’ll give you a couple warm-up questions. Starting with: do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do.”

“Hm. Pity. What’s he like?”

“First you wanna know about me, and now my boyfriend?” You’re growing more and more irritated with every passing second you are on the phone with this person. “You planning on stealing him from me?”

“No, of course not. Just tell me about him.”

“Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now—“

“Hang up and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The sheer aggression and violence that ripple through this stranger’s voice forces you to stop. The phone begins to gently rattle against your ear and you can’t suppress the shaking that overcomes your body. Panic is now flowing through your veins as you stand in your kitchen in silence.

“Good girl. Now, where were we? Right: tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Um, he… He has tattoos, a-and he’s really tall. Uh, he— He’s in a famous metal band, and—“

“Yeah? What band?”

“B-Bad Omens.”

“Oh, I know them. Don’t they sing that song Just Pretend?”

You nod, even though you know they can’t see you. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, that’s them,” you murmur.

“Well, let’s start the actual game, shall we? First question: your boyfriend was at a meeting this morning with his band and their label. Who’s their label?”

The question stuns you. You’re suddenly frozen in place and you can’t gather the air in your lungs to even breathe, let alone speak. How the fuck do they know that? Why do they want this information if they obviously already have it?

“S-Sumerian,” you choke out.

“Correct. Next question: what band member left before the production of their second album began?”

You now feel sick to your stomach. You suspect this has to be some crazed fan with an unhealthy obsession with Bad Omens. If that’s the case, they should know already know the answer to this particular question. So why are they asking you?

“Vincent.”

“Good. Final question: where am I?”

“Wh-What? What do you mean where are you?”

“Where. Am. I?”

Dread floods your body. “Are you in my house?!” you practically yell in to the phone speaker.

“Come find out. But if you find me it won’t count as answering the question.”

You’re quick to tear the landline from your ear and jab your thumb against the end call button then tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Your hands are shaking as you take a few steps away from it, silently hoping it won’t ring again.

But it isn’t the phone’s shrill ring that makes you jump. It’s a sound coming from somewhere else in the house.

Your fight or flight response kicks in immediately. You rush to flee through the front door when you hear slow, heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. They sound calculated and deliberate, and you have no choice but to stand there in terror.

From the direction of yours and Olivia’s bedrooms comes a dark figure. They walk out of the shadows and into the dining room. Their body is covered in a black cloak, with a hood up over their head and a white mask on their face. The mask is a simple depiction of a screaming face. But it’s not any less mortifying as you watch them.

The figure comes to a stop when they catch sight of you. Their head tilts to one side, almost they’re considering their next move of action.

But you move first, suddenly booking it for the opposite end of the house towards the laundry room, the extra bathroom, and the garage. You hear them give chase a moment later.

You scramble your way into the garage in hopes of getting the large door to slide open. But the masked figure is one step behind you, and prevents you from hitting the door controls. They have you tripping forwards, and you nearly face plant into the concrete but you catch your weight on your hands. You push yourself up just as the intruder goes to grab you.

Darting around your car, that still sits idly in the middle of the space, you are being taunted by the figure in the hood. They stay near the door back into the house which keeps you on the other side of the car.

Then they’re skirting around the vehicle straight for you. You make a last second decision and make a break for the door inside. The intruder races back after you.

The figure chases you down the hall towards your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut before they can reach you, but you didn’t anticipate their strength. They shove the door open all the way, making you scramble back to your bed. You’re panting as you scoot backwards on the mattress.

The black-cloaked figure says nothing as they slowly stalk towards you. Adrenaline in coursing through your veins and you’re panicking. You are rendered silent as they reach the bed and continue their hunt across the sheets until they’re looming over you. The white mask is haunting as it stares down at you with that soundless wail.

“P-Please… I-I don’t wanna die…”

No response. Whoever is underneath that mask does not seem interested in listening to your pleas.

One of their hands reaches back behind them and reveals a shimmering hunting blade. The metal is clean and shiny, and you can see your fear reflected back at you through it.

Their unoccupied hand goes for your shirt, and you flinch at the contact. Your heart is pounding relentlessly as your shirt is lifted from your body. You couldn’t help but be compliant, especially with how they’ve got you situated between their legs.

You watch as they point the knife at you, then have the fine tip poking at the indent at the center of your collarbones. The barely-there feeling of the cold metal on your skin is sending your brain into overdrive. They then slowly, lazily, drag the blade downwards across your bare chest. You see how they’re clearly enamored by the goosebumps flaring across your abdomen as they continue dragging the knife down, down down…

Suddenly, there’s a hand gripping your throat. But it’s not with the murderous intention you were expecting. Instead, there is almost a gentleness to how their squeezing your neck, with the way their thumb grazes your pulse point.

You’re horrifically confused.

You nearly say something to them, but they’re taking the hand holding the knife to their mask. And then they tug off the black hood and this is the end, oh god—

“Noah?!”

And yes, that is your boyfriend kneeling above you with a wicked grin on his face and a knife in his hand. The terror and anxiety you had been feeling begins to melt away, and you can feel nothing but anger and embarrassment.

“Told you I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?” Noah says casually.

It’s a struggle to comprehend his presence. You can’t understand why he’s doing this or why he thought it was okay with a murderer running rampant.

“Wh-What the fuck?” you stammer.

“Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” Noah takes his gloved hand away from your throat and uses it to brush aside the stray hairs that were clinging to your skin. “I thought you wanted me to stay over? Keep you safe?”

You did want that, yes. But this is not what you meant. Never did you say you wanted Noah to stalk you like he were the predator and you were the prey.

But you can’t stamp down the exhilaration that is igniting your insides. You can’t get rid of it, especially with how Noah is looking at you. You suddenly want to turn in to jelly and be completely and utterly obedient to his every word.

And that sort of terrifies you.

“I-I did, but you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. Your body is slowly relaxing beneath the weight of his own, now that any imminent danger has been found folly.

Noah looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean?” he asks you innocently. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound.”

Noah begins tracing lines across your stomach and chest with the blade’s edge once more, a careful hold on the hilt in order not to pierce your flesh. The sensation has your brain faltering and not fully processing his words. Your hands inch towards his thighs.

He notices your hands moving in no time. He doesn’t stop you and says nothing.

You slither your hands under the cheap black fabric, and you immediately grip at his legs. You boldly glide your hands upwards until you reach the waistband of Noah’s pants. Noah watches as you tug lightly at one of the belt loops, then going for the zipper.

“Did my little charade turn you on, baby?” Noah moves the knife under your chin and gently pushes up so you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “Did you like me chasing you?”

You nod. And you see him grin.

“Shit, and who am I to deny you?”

But you know Noah. He’s going to tease you and get you all worked up, have you in near hysterics before he finally gives you what you want. And he doesn’t seem to be in a very generous mood at the moment.

Noah drops the knife to pull off the entire costume. He tosses it aside before getting rid of his shirt as well. A part of you knows this is what he wanted from the beginning, when he first offered to sleep over. But you can’t be bothered by that, not when he’s moving back enough to pull down your pants.

When he gets your pants off, and they join the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom, Noah drags his tattooed hands up your legs agonizingly slow. He stops briefly when he reaches the top of your thighs, but then he proceeds to dig his fingernails in to the soft flesh and tugs you towards him. You yelp in surprise and are promptly shut up when you find your legs slung around Noah’s waist and his hand resting at your throat again.

“Good girl,” Noah says quietly. The hand not on your neck has begun making its way to your clothed core, which earns a weak whimper from you. “Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me?”

You whine when his fingers start stroking at you through your underwear. You think you answer him, but you don’t care enough as you are now grinding into his hand.

For a moment, you feel Noah remove his hands from your body. You whimper and whine at the loss of touch, until his hand is back at your throat and there’s a sharp cold resting on your hip.

The knife harmlessly glides against your skin once more. Then the pressure from the waistband of your underwear vanishes, to be replaced by the metallic cold of the blade in Noah’s hand. It slowly travels down past your pelvis, making you jerk in surprise.

Noah chuckles at the way your body reacts. You almost begin bitching at him when the knife disappears and is then substituted for his fingers. And his fingers feel so much better against your folds than that stupid knife could ever dream of.

And he’s just lazily stroking, avoiding slipping any one of his long, tattooed digits inside of you. You try your best to grind back against his hand, but the one at your throat squeezes for just a moment. It makes you pause, whining at the unexpected dizziness you are now experiencing.

Then his fingers are inside you, stroking and rubbing and searching for that bundle of nerves deep within. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. But then you’re pushing back on Noah’s fingers and the pressure on your throat eases a bit.

“Such a good girl,” you hear Noah murmur. “Can you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts his fingers harder into your pussy. You’re moaning and writhing at his touch, and then that same pressure is applied once more to your throat and it’s just too much. Your body clenches around Noah’s fingers and you ride out your orgasm as he slows down his strokes.

The feeling of suddenly being empty is overwhelming. But you don’t have to worry about that much longer when Noah maneuvers your body off of him and onto your stomach. You feel the bed shift as he moves, and the sound of him taking off his pants has you gripping at the sheets.

Then the bed dips from Noah’s weight and he’s suddenly right above you. His bare legs are caging in your thighs and his hands are gently roaming over the expanse of your back. You can feel his cock against your ass; it takes a little too much self control to not push back into him, although you end up failing.

“You look so hot like this, baby,” Noah says. His hands halt at your hips, and he’s digging his fingertips into the bone. “So, so good for me.”

Noah doesn’t hesitate when he begins pushing his hard cock into you and using your hips as leverage. You’re crying out and moaning weakly as he adjusts slightly and then bottoms out.

There isn’t any warning given before Noah is pulling out just enough then slamming back in. He sets a brutal but steady pace as he fucks you. Your knuckles are whitening from your tight grip on the bedsheets. You quickly become a moaning, blubbering mess beneath Noah as he keeps going and going.

He keeps hitting your cervix perfectly and it makes you see stars. His hands on your hips is currently the only tether you have on reality.

Suddenly there’s a hand in your hair and it tugs at the roots until you prop yourself up on your elbows. Noah’s grip on your hair is sending spikes of pain from your scalp all the way down to your shoulders. But each thrust of his hips is another tug on the strands of hair entangled in his fingers. It’s a mashup of sensations that has you chasing your high again.

“Ah— Ah—“

God, you’re so close. You need to cum so fucking bad.

“Ah, Noah—“

“Come on, baby,” Noah breathlessly encourages you. “I want you to cum with my name on your lips.”

And with that, your pussy is clenching around him and you’re coming with a cry of his name. Then his thrusts get sloppier until he’s coming inside of you. You feel all warm as you are filled with nothing but Noah.

Noah then pulls out and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you is definitely the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His hands are then forcing you to turn over and rest on your back. He straddles your weak body, and the sight of him above you like that makes you want to go again.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he says quietly. His chest is heaving as he drags one of his hands upwards, starting at your stomach and stopping at your tits. He palms one then the other, playing with each for but a moment. “Always so good for me, baby.”

Silence settles over you while Noah continues to just touch you. It’s calming and has your eyelids growing heavy.

But there’s still something that is gnawing at your brain. And you have to say something.

“Are you the killer?” Your voice is fragile when you verbalize your question.

It doesn’t seem to bother Noah, though. His hands are still wandering and touching you as he seems to process what you said.

“Yes. Does that scare you?” he replies. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and the dark glint has your heart pounding. “Do I scare you?”

You don’t have an answer for him, so you remain quiet.

“Are you afraid of me?”

He’s referring to what you had talked about yesterday. A part of you wants to yell out and tell him you are utterly terrified of him, that you cannot fathom the horrific atrocities he has committed. You can’t stand the thought of how much blood stains his hands. The hands that are touching you, caressing every curve…

“No,” you whisper.

Noah’s mouth twists into a lopsided grin. Your answer seems to satisfy him, and you can’t help the satisfaction you also feel spreading throughout your chest.

“Good. I would never want you to be afraid of me,” he tells you as he leans down so your faces are parallel. “You’re mine. And I’ll get rid of anyone that thinks they can take you from me.”

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2023

[queenie-official]

Chapter Three: ‘First Impressions’ Bridgerton au!Anakin

part 1, part 2

a/n: so the outfits that Obi-Wan and Ani are wearing are the ones in the photos ☝️🤭but guys tell me how i had more of chapter four planned out then i did this chapter 🤨 like i fr already had dialogue for chapter four before i even started this one 😀 anyway i hope you guys like this 🥰

Once more you find yourself pacing around in an endless circle. Today was the day you were to meet him. The wedding was already set to happen in a week. however invitations wouldn’t be handed out for another two days, the council told you it would be wise to get to know your future husband a bit first- but honestly how much could you really learn about a person in such a short amount of time. it’s not like you had a week to get to know each other, no you had the day to get to know him before he’d be back off to his own kingdom till the wedding.

“you need to calm down” Padme’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. you look over to where she’s sat on the settee, a concerned look on her face. you’d asked her to come over and help distract you. to her credit she did try at first but she quickly realized nothing she could say or do would occupy your mind from the days events. “i’m calm” you say trying to convince yourself that more then her. “if you can say that while standing still, i’ll believe you” she retorts whilst standing up and walking over to you forcing you to stop pacing as she places her hands on your shoulders.

“you can’t blame me for being nervous, i mean wether this goes well or not this is the man i am to spend the rest of my life with” you vent, feeling your anxiety swirl. you felt like this was an impossible situation, marrying someone you didn’t know. obviously it was a common thing but it didn’t make the reality of it any weirder to you. “what if he doesn’t want to marry me?” it was a stupid question, the better question would be why would he want to marry you. he was being moved away from his home to a foreign place with different traditions and cultures. not to mention an entirely different climate, you’d read up on Tatooine it was a Warm desert kingdom a direct contrast to Alderaan.

“that’s a possibility” Padme answers, not the reassurance you wanted but you didn’t call padme here because she would lie to make you feel better. you called her here because she would give it to you straight but also support you the best way she could. “so then i’ve forced a man into a loveless marriage” you huff, feeling anger course through you as your once again reminded of the councils rash decision that got you into this.

“most people these days end up in loveless marriages y/n. most women at least, we have no say in who we marry it’s all decided by our fathers.” that once again didn’t make you feel any better but it was the hard truth. “this is going to be a long day” you’d slump over if you could but the corset you had on prevented you from most movement that involved bending of any form. “maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised” you could only hope she was right.

“i know it’s silly but growing up i always imagined marrying someone i fell in love with. my mom and dad where in love when they got married, a rare occurrence for monarchs. i always pictured having what they did.” you say sadly, it may not be the end of the world that your marrying a stranger but it was the end of that dream. a cruel awakening to your inner child. “it’s not silly, most little girls wish that” Padme says sympathetically.

“if my dad where still alive he’d have ensured it a reality” you say solemnly, feeling your heart tug at the thought. “Bail was a good man, a good king and a good father” you feel your eyes gloss over at her words, it was times like this you really missed him. your father was everything to you, he was all you had when your mother passed and vice versa. losing him felt like mourning two people at once, learning how to cope without your mother all over again in addition to coping without him.

“i miss him” it came out more as a whisper, you felt that if you spoke any louder the dam would break and tears would spill. Padme was quick to pull you into a tight hug. she was a big help when you lost him, a loyal friend who you knew would always be on your side. “i can’t help but feel i’m failing him” you let out the thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind throughout this whole ordeal. “he was and always will be proud of you” she said firmly, rubbing your back gently.

“would he be proud of me for this though?” you couldn’t help but ask. “circumstances changed y/n, you’ve done what you could. besides it’s not as if this was entirely your decision” she reassured you. you take a deep breath, indulging in the hug you both shared a moment longer before pulling away. “speaking of i really need to do something about the council before another reckless decision is made.”

“the sooner you’re crowned the Queen the better” she says with a laugh trying to lighten the mood, though she was being completely serious. right as you where about to respond your conversation was interrupted by Barclay barging in, an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent with him.

“your majesty they’re here” he said and you stiffened, the reality of the situation crashing down onto you. you knew this was coming but it hadn’t truly felt real til now.

“oh i’m going to be sick” you mumble just loud enough for padme to hear, she gives you a gentle pat on the back a silent way of saying you’ve got this. as if suddenly reminded of her existence Barclay acknowledges her “Lady Amidala pleasure to see you” it surprisingly sounded genuine, though to be fair he had been sucking up to you the last couple days clearly something clicked in his mind that you where the one who controlled wether he actually had a job or not. that or there was something else motivating him either way his change in attitude didn’t sit right with you, something was off and you could sense it.

“Barclay” was all padme said to greet him not even bothering to turn in his direction to acknowledge him properly. you had to stifle a laugh, god you loved her. she kept her head high and walked right past him, she would be leaving through the gardens so no one knew she was there. the meeting was to be kept secret from everyone aside from the respective royal families.

with a sigh you nodded towards Barclay to signify you where ready. you both walked down the hallways heading to the main foyer, with each step you took you felt as if you where being pulled down. finding it harder and harder to move forward the closer you got. these where your last moments to breath without someone beside you- metaphorically of course, after all as a royal there’s always someone at least five steps from you which was tiring to say the least.

you could swear time was simultaneously moving faster then light and slower then molasses as you watched Barclay nod to the guards to open the doors that stand as the only barrier between you and the one you are to wed. it was hard to breath? but just as quick as the breath got stuck in you it was knocked right out as one of the guards rose there voice impossibly loud to announce your arrival.

“now presenting her Majesty, the Crown Princess Y/n Organa” it honestly made your ears ring but at the very least it served as a nice reminder of where you are and pulled you back down to earth. still it all felt a bit excessive to you considering there was only four people here excluding the guards.

Walking further in so that you and Barclay where now face to face with the two men, you scanned over them quickly. they both where good looking you had to admit, what threw you off though was how drastically different they where dressed from each other. for a moment you almost thought they came from two different places but quickly brushed that off knowing good and well that wasn’t the case.

“hel-“ just as you began to greet the two men you are quickly cut off by a third party you hadn’t even noticed was there. Chancellor Valorum. “greetings you are?” he said and you paused turning to see him standing behind you, how long had he been there? no one else seemed shocked so he must of been there for quite some time you concluded. but why was he there? deciding to act like you had known he was there you turn back to the two men. to your surprise the older looking one of the two directed his attention to you and not Valorum. it brought a small smile to your face, feeling like it was a nice change of pace finally be acknowledged instead of looked over.

“I am Prince Obi-Wan first born son of the Kingdom Tatooine. and this” he gestured to the pretty blonde beside him who could easily tower over you if he was close enough. “is my brother Anakin” he finished and you felt a little giddy, so far so good right? he was tall and handsome you could only hope he was kind and had a personality as good as he looked. though to your dismay the aforementioned man hadn’t even spared you a glance, thinking on it he hadn’t looked at you even when you first entered the room. that fact made your stomach twist.

“neither of your parents are joining us?” the chancellor spoke again before you could get a word in, honestly he was one more sentence away from you clocking him in the face. but you hold your breath and maintain your composure. this time Obi-Wan does acknowledge him but only to answer his question and you were guessing to not seem rude. “unfortunately our mother and father are quite busy but as the future king they deemed it enough for me to go with my brother for this” you felt like a child who could do nothing but watch as the grown ups speak as you look back and forth from the chancellor and him.

Thankfully Obi-Wan was quick to redirect his attention to you. “your highness shall we discuss matters more privately?” why couldn’t conversation with people of power always go this way, taking to you instead of over you. you give him a polite smile before answering. “yes let’s move this elsewhere” you say with a nod. “lead the way.” was all he said in turn.

as you all walk down the halls of the castle you can’t help but notice how quiet prince Anakin was. it worried you, was he always this quiet or was he choosing not to say anything. did he already hate you- to be fair if he did you wouldn’t blame him. if the roles where reversed and your kingdom had been basically black mailed into giving you up as marriage you’d probably hate the person you thought responsable as well. you found yourself actually wishing you two where alone so you could explain yourself and hope he could understand. Then again who’d say he’d believe you, it was worth a try though wasn’t it?

unsurprisingly throughout most of the meeting chancellor Valorum spoke for you any chance he could. and just as in the foyer Obi-Wan directed his answers to you. time dragged as you guys finished up flushing out the details of the agreement more thoroughly. it was all so casual and you couldn’t help but feel sick especially with Anakin sitting right there not saying a word. you couldn’t even get a read on his emotions his face was a blank slate. it made you anxious and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just hurry up and get all of this over already or drag it out longer so you could procrastinate the inevitable.

it was evident just how long the meeting had taken when you were met with the setting sun as you looked out the window. a panic ran through you when you realized you had no time at all to talk Anakin now and the next time you’d see him would be the day of the wedding. you where now truly going into this marriage blind- not that you would of learned much about him today regardless but anything would be better than nothing.

closing up the meeting with a handshake between the chancellor and Obi-Wan, even though he had clearly held his hand out for you- you all stand up and head out of the meeting room.

Anakin had still yet to say a word, Obi-Wan being the one to speak on both there behalf’s when saying goodbye. even as they walked away you watched as he didn’t even speak to his brother, maybe he was mad and his silence was the politest protest he could do. you could only hope your whole marriage wouldn’t be like this, what an awkward life that would be. though maybe you’d get used to it at some point.

all of these thoughts swimming in your head stopped as a pair of blue eyes met yours, it was brief and for a second you thought you’d imagined it. he had look back at you right before the castle doors closed.

that’s all you had to go off of until you would meet again for the wedding day.

part 4

okay guys the next chapter will feature a lot more Anakin and yes the pretty boy will speak 🥰 this took me forever to finish 😀 mainly because i’ve been writing this in between doing work 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯 anyways i hope you all like this chapter i know it was a lot more emotional then the others but reader is going through a lot at once 😭 side note i love reading your reply’s you guys are funny and real asf🤭 that’s all i have to say for now enjoy huns Xx<3

tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

[dmercer91]

i’m in a roll with luca and black cat-

anyway

black cat not knowing what to get luca’s parents, so she both gives them a few framed photos of the boys big moments, but also sketches one or two of them out on a canvas

and they’re so thankful, but don’t want yo make it awkward

and adam- because he beats luca to it- goes up to his parents while black cat goes to the restroom or soemthing an explains js how much it means fo ther to give them her drawings

and it makes luca all 🥹 for black cat and adam’s bond

i’ve come back from the dead (i’ve been gone for a day)

i was so tired last night i fell asleep on the couch and my dad had to bring me to my room like when i was 7

but i started a load of laundry so i could stay up and write (knowing something needs to be done before i sleep is the only way i can function i hate myself)

but yes!!!! she makes a series of these three moments from ushl to mich to draft day for their christmas present

but like the boys are isolated and the backgrounds are all white

the middle one she’d done for a project (nobody knows this and she will make sure it stays that way) where she had to paint something with like visible facial expressions

but she felt like that wasn’t enough so she made multiple

she showed them to luca before they left for the holidays and he nearly sobbed on the spot

like he hugged her and held her head and smooshed her hair around in excitement and told her how much he loved her

and the hug lasted so long

fantilli christmas’ | opposites attract au, lf63

you’d never woken up early on christmas mornings, you never really celebrated other than being happy to have the day off and exchanging a gift between you and your dad

you’d had trees and sometimes your dad would convince you to make cookies, but only when you were much younger

so it was definitely weird to be awake before daylight, greeted with a tree full of gifts and lucas mom handing you a plate of bacon, eggs and french toast.

your legs were laid over lucas, your head rested on his shoulder while you fought sleep, his hands gently running through your hair not helping your case.

while adam dragged himself into the room, tired and rubbing sleep from his eyes, luca tilted his head to the side to be level with you

you gave him a small grin and he tilted your head to peck your lips, moving back to his original position once adam dropped down beside him and caused a ripple in the cushions

“it’s too early for you two to be-“ adam gestured vaguely in your direction, grumbling to finish his sentence

his mom brought him coffee and his food, and then everyone started on gifts.

yours to lucas parents was buried at the back of the tree- since you felt a little embarrassed by it and wanted to put off letting them open it for as long as possible

when they finally got to it you gave a small smile and clutched onto luca, nerves kicking in full force

luca was giddy, all too excited for his parents to open up your present, so he squeezed your hand and kissed your forehead, trying to reassure you that everything would be okay

they opened it and right away, their mom looked up with a heartfelt smile while they’re dad was just staring

“you’re so talented, sweetheart. thank you,” she turned her attention back to the art and leaned on her husband, smiling.

when they both looked back up, their eyes were watering and yours went wide, looking up at luca who was beaming at his parents

adam sent you a reassuring look, so you looked back over to them.

“can i hug you?” his mom tilted her head, smiling softly while getting up from her seat.

you nodded slightly, feeling a little awkward and you untangled yourself from luca and wrapped your arms around her waist.

she squeezed you tight, cupping your face and pulling back to look at you

“thank you, y/n,” you smiled in return, nodding slightly and moving back to your seat, re attaching yourself to luca.

the five of you sat around the living room for a while after everything was out away, yourself mostly silent

eventually, you poked lucas arm and mumbled that you were going to get ready. he smiled and kissed you, mumbling an okay before taking his arm off from around you and watching you walk off

once you were gone, his mom spoke up

“she’s beautiful, luca. and she’s got the biggest heart,” all he could do was smile, his heart swelling in his chest at her praise of you

“she’s good, isn’t she?” adam beamed, nodding to the piece you’d painted that was safe on the side table until there was time to put it up

both of their parents nodded and adam continued

“she works hard, mama. she was nervous for you to see. think it’s cause she spent so long and wanted you to like it,” luca watched his brother, smile getting harder and harder to contain

“well, we love it,” she reassured, adam smiling

“she’s at michigan for art, so she would’ve had to take extra time on top of other pieces. and i know she prefers to draw, so i think you guys liking it was really important for her,” he finished, smiling to himself

he looked over at luca, who was just glowing with pride for you, and his cheeks flushed

“sorry,” he mumbled and luca shook his head

“she loves you, too, mo,”

[honeyjars-sims]

3.6 Hurting from the Heat

The morning light was shining through the window. Johnny hesitantly opened his eyes, not yet willing to greet the day. The previous night of partying left him with a pounding headache. Next to him Carina was also beginning to stir awake.

Johnny knew how this would go: She would start getting dressed and he would try to tempt her back in bed with him. She'd decline in her dismissive way that always left him feeling like a hungry dog begging for scraps at the table. She’d offer him something from the bootleg pharmacy in her purse as some sort of consolation prize and she’d be on her way.

He could avoid the whole song and dance if he’d just keep his mouth shut and let her go, but he kept trying on the off chance that his pleas would actually move her this time. Next to him Carina was already making her way off the bed. “Are you leaving?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Yeah, I have my class, remember?” She stood up and started gathering her clothes that had been thrown haphazardly on the floor the night before.

“Oh yeah. That’s not for another hour, though. Can’t you stay a little longer?” Johnny patted the now empty spot where she’d been lying, still warm from the heat of her body. Before long it would be cold once again.

“Johnny, you know what this is.” Carina sighed as she pulled her shirt over her head. “I told you from the jump I’m not into relationships.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “When did I ask you for one? I just want to cuddle for a bit.”

“You say that, but I know your type. First it will be cuddling, then spending weekends together and before I know it, you'll be introducing me as your girlfriend and talking about our future. No fucking thanks.”

Carina must have realized how harsh she sounded because she sat herself on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on top of Johnny’s. “Look, you’re a nice guy and I’m having fun with you, but I can’t give you more than this."

“I know that.” Johnny replied quietly. He didn't want anything more, at least not with her. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure if he liked her. He was just tired of being alone.

"You should get up and go do something. Y'know, seize the fucking day or whatever." Carina rummaged through her tote bag and pulled out a small baggie of white powder which she held towards him. “Here, this'll wake you up.”

He knew he should decline but the sadness was creeping in and he figured he could use a distraction. “Okay, but just a little. I have an appointment later.” Getting high before therapy probably wasn't his smartest move, but that would have to be a problem for future Johnny.

Carina began gathering her things. "Well, I'll see you around. Oh and Johnny? You should really think about getting a girlfriend." Johnny sighed and began getting ready for his appointment.

By the time he was ready to leave, he was pretty amped up. He tried to leave the house without catching the attention of his parents and almost made it to the front door when he heard David call his name.

“Hey Johnny, please remind your girlfriend that we don’t smoke in the house.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Johnny replied. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and reminded himself to relax before David caught wind of what he’d been up to.

“Well, whoever she is, she needs to stop smoking indoors if she wants to come back.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her. But I did tell her already. Really! I didn’t know she was still doing it or I would’ve said something to her.” Johnny was talking too much and too fast. He could tell by the way David's eyes narrowed that his dad was on to him. “She doesn’t really listen to me, though, and I don’t think she really wants to come back anyway, but if she does I’ll let her know.”

“You’re on something.”

“No, I just had too much coffee.” He knew his lie wasn’t convincing but he had to say something.

“You’re sweating and you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin. I’m not stupid, Johnny.”

“Fine, think what you want. I’m going to be late.” Johnny began heading to the door, reaching for his keys on the entry table on the way. David grabbed them first.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re not driving high. I’ll take you.” Johnny didn't protest.

“This ends today,” David continued, and Johnny knew he meant it. “Your little friend can’t come over anymore. If I see her in my house again, you’re out. If you bring drugs into the house again, you’re out. If you don’t get a job by the end of the month, you’re out.”

“Okay, I get it.” He agreed to the terms as though he had a choice and started to walk to the door.

“Johnny, wait.”

Johnny didn’t hide his agitation. “What now?” He threw his hands up in the air, preparing for another tirade about what a selfish and irresponsible son he was. Instead David’s face softened as he placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

“I was just going to say that I love you, no matter what. And I’m going to do everything I can to help you, even if it makes you hate me for a little while.”

His dad's eyes, filled with anger a few moments ago were now brimming with tears. Johnny was ashamed that things had come to this. He hated that he was hurting his dads after everything they’d done for him. “I don’t hate you, Dad,” he said softly. “I love you, and I’m sorry."

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[florianniss]

Dungeons and Drag Queens

RatedE, Identityporn, Drag Queen Eddie

“Gah!”

Steve has a tight-knuckled grip on his ‘Oh shit’ bar and his brake pedal is pressed all the way to the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the crunch of metal, the crushing of glass, the impact that throws him into the windshield and puts him in the hospital in a full-body cast.

It never comes.

“Jeezus, Steve. Lighten up, will you?”

Somehow, miraculously, Dustin has managed to swerve and miss the parked delivery van and is tooling proudly down the street like he didn’t almost send Steve’s life flashing before his eyes.

“You’re not my Dad, you know.”

Dustin turns the wheel back and forth, like he’s in one of those grocery store ride-ons that you put quarters in to make it move. He comes up on a stop sign way too fast and slams on the brakes at the very last second. Steve has to throw his hands on the dash to stay in his seat. 

“That’s right,” Steve says, pulse rapid and thready, and he’s sure his veins are popping out all over the place. “I’m your Mom. And you’re a menace.”

Dustin rolls his head dramatically and steps on the gas. The old fake-wood-grocery-getter he’s borrowed from his folks spits up gravel from its back tires. Steve wishes he’d ridden separately, taken his bike instead.

“Why are you such a chicken lately, anyway?” Dustin whines. “You used to be fun.”

Steve bristles. “I’m still fun.” It comes out as a growl, like a cantankerous old bear woken way too early from slumber.

Dustin laughs and lays down another screeching halt. Steve swears he can smell the brake pads burned and disintegrated into dust. He grins like he’s done it on purpose, takes a corner and heads out of town, and Steve forces himself to relax. 

He would never admit it, but he has become rather — conservative — these past few weeks. Like, his body is still twenty-two but his brain is thirty years older.

“Do I need to run through any rules with you before we get there?”

Steve gives a long-suffering sigh. It’s Saturday, and it’s the first day he’s had off in two weeks. And, like the soft-serve (coward) he is, he’s agreed to stand in for Dustin’s girlfriend, Suzie, at their little gang’s weekly board game. 

“I got it.”

It’s not true, of course. He has no idea what the hell he’s getting into. What he does know is the second he found out Dustin and Mike and Max and Lucas and Will were secretly meeting in some random guy’s garage, his Mother Hen transformed into Mother Lion.

“OK.” Dustin doesn’t sound convinced.

He picks up the other kids and they pile into the back two rows, punching the back of Steve’s seat playfully as they pass. They pair off naturally, Mike with Will and Lucas with Max. Steve’s chest twinges a bit when he thinks about how Suzie rounds out their little group nicely.

Meanwhile, he’s the third wheel. (Or rather, the sixth? Seventh?)

Dustin and the others have been trying to get Steve to come for weeks. He explains nicely that he’s an adult and he has responsibilities: job, rent, groceries. Recuperating from life. The kids try to make him feel guilty by telling him everyone they invite always says ‘no.’ So, of course, he’s got to prove them wrong.

He also wants to meet this guy whose garage they meet in. What if he’s a creep or a kidnapper? Or a killer. The kids don’t even know how old he is.

Steve intends to find out.

Dustin pulls into the trailer park and Steve definitely gets Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes from the place. He kinda wishes he’d brought his Leatherman. Or his bat.

The kids spill out of the car and hurry down the dirt driveway toward the mandoor on a faded puke-green metal building. Behind it, there’s a trailer in the same color and condition. A rusted van is parked crooked near the garage, an old Chevy truck has been pulled right up to the front porch. Steve notes the plate numbers in case he needs to report a crime.

He opens the station wagon’s back door and lifts the cooler. He’s packed healthy stuff like string cheese and peanuts, a bag of grapes and a few apples. It’s not just for his wards; it’s for him too. Ain’t no way he’s eating some serial killer’s pork rinds. No sir.

Steve follows the rest into the garage and isn’t half surprised to find it smells exactly like a garage. Rubber and oil and musty rust and something sweet — radiator fluid? He takes in the large open space, scanning the boxes and tools and spare parts before settling on a large, heavy, claw-footed dining table that looks like it belonged to somebody’s dead grandmother.

The boys pull out folding chairs and begin to set them up around the table, all talking as loud as they possibly can to make sure they’re heard over the others. Max smiles and hangs her gray tote bag with the rainbow straps over the back of her chair. Steve is pretty sure she’s wearing a Care Bear shirt, and he loves her for it.

Steve sets the cooler on the floor next to the table and realizes he’s forgotten something.

“Oh, shit, guys! I forgot the pop!”

Groans circle the table and Steve feels horrible. He’s about to volunteer to take the wagon to the 7-11 and pick up Slushies to make up for it, when a voice behind him offers another solution.

“I got drinks in the trailer.”

Dustin cheers and Steve spins around, hair prickling on his arms because this guy sounds much older than seventeen. And when he lays eyes on a very adult face, his stomach does a very convincing leap off a highrise. It’s nothing like he expected.

Apparently, neither is Steve, because the guy drops the opened box of dice he’s carrying in the crook of one arm and they clatter onto the floor like hailstones and roll under the table. A stunned set of dark eyes pop out of a narrow, handsome face, and his mouth falls open. For a second, Steve feels embarrassed for the guy.

Dustin, however, flies in from the side and hugs him. “Thanks, Eddie! We’ll just run in and —“

This Eddie shakes himself like a wet dog, and a stern frown creases his forehead as he narrows his eyes “Not you, Henderson. Or you two.” He points at Will and Mike. “Max. You and Lucas grab some and haul them out.”

Lucas grins at Max, who returns the smile with something mischievous. Eddie catches it and shakes his head. “And no beer. I ain’t serving minors, here.”

Steve watches the whole exchange with a little jealousy. He’s supposed to be the only one who gets to boss these kids around. But he can’t possibly say anything; the guy’s logic is sound, and even if he’s just covering because Steve is here, it’s one less thing to worry about.

Because there’s definitely something about this Eddie that has sent Steve’s pulse racing.

He realizes he’s staring and quickly crouches to help the others collect the escaped dice. Down on hands and knees, he notes how sweaty his palms are, the nervous shimmy behind his navel.

What the hell is wrong with him lately?

When everything’s been collected and he crawls back from under the table, Eddie and Dustin are standing in the same spot. Except Dustin has a shit-eating grin on his face. And Eddie is looking like he’s been hit with a baseball bat.

His eyes are – well, they’re captivating.

“Uh,” Eddie says, and he folds both arms over his chest, hugs himself tightly. “I’ll go check on Max.”

He spins on his heel and high-tails it outside, like he’s seen a ghost or something.

Dustin continues to smile as he approaches the table and chooses a chair. He carefully spills out his little figurines and bag of matching dice, and Steve wants to throttle him for how smug he’s being.

The conversation returns to the volume levels from inside the car. Everyone is going on about what happened last time, all of them trying to fill Steve in. He tries to listen to each of them in turn, catches phrases like, ‘That demon was so sick, man!’ And ‘I can’t believe you tried to open the chest with a shovel!’ They were really getting into it, saying, ‘OK, then, next time you open the damn thing!’ and, ‘But nobody’s got lockpicking!’ when the door opens, and Eddie and Max and Lucas walk in.

Steve’s eyes flit over the Mountain Dew piled in both kids’ arms (they’re gonna be a handful on the ride home) and settle on the fact that Eddie has changed his shirt.

It’s long-sleeved, less wrinkled, and newer-looking. It’s like his hair has been combed; all the tight curls have separated and they seem softer somehow. He swaggers, yes, swaggers, across the floor right up to Steve and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. Jeans that hug his frame a little too well.

“I’m Eddie Munson. Hey.” It’s cocky.

Steve stands so quickly that he almost knocks his chair back. Someone at the table snickers.

He slips his hands in his own pockets. “Steve Harrington. Hey.”

They exchange hard-focused glares and brief nods, and then Eddie moves away to take a chair at what’s clearly the head of the table. It’s directly across from Steve.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits, and he tries not to think anything at all. Tries to clear his brain and make it an empty space. Because, if he doesn’t, he’s bound to think this guy is threatening him in some way. There are some pretty territorial vibes coming off him.

Chaos ensues. Everyone scrambles to spread things out on the table. They lean over it, sometimes standing on their chairs to reach. And they argue, of course, because they always argue.

“That’s not where the garden was! It was over there! Next to the rowboat!”

“No. That’s where the temple statue was, remember?”

Steve tears his gaze away from their host’s and finds the tablecloth he thought was a honeycomb-themed covering, is actually the mat they’re playing their game on.

He checks to see if Eddie is still watching him, and, he is. Looking over the top of a large manilla envelope as he slides white sheets of paper out, one at a time. It’s eerie, really. The way his eyes seem so deep. As if he’s some sort of —

Well, Steve doesn’t know.

Eddie passes out character sheets and Steve’s instructed to read his. He scans through it, reading about a man who’s a noble who worships some kind of dragon god. He doesn’t understand all the stuff on the front; it’s a lot of reading. More than he’s done since college. Even then, he needed a quiet room with no distractions to understand what he was reading.

Eddie’s garage is far from that.

Dustin leans over and hands him a velvet pouch. “You can use some of my dice.”

Steve leans into him. “You’re gonna have to help me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Dustin laughs, but he does help. All of them do, actually. More than enough. At one point, when his character “Rodrick” is standing on a half-sunken pirate ship, and it’s his turn to decide whether he should investigate a dark, dank, waterlogged room, even though apparently he can’t see into it, Max pats him reassuringly on the back and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll cover you.”

Steve isn’t worried about some fictional character in some fantasy game, who can’t die anyway because he’s got a biblical laying hands spell. He’s worried about making a fool of himself in front of –

Yeah.

Eddie’s murder stare eases eventually. He lords over the board, hunkered down behind a makeshift barrier he’s set up on his end. Steve catches on that he’s not playing, he’s leading the game. He’s sarcastic and loud, swears like a sailor, and it’s clear he knows his shit. It’s like he knows how everything is supposed to play out ahead of time, and he lures the other players into his trap.

It doesn’t go as he expects either, because Dustin challenges him on everything. He argues that in real play some character wouldn’t really do that. He corrects Eddie on how many hits someone gets, or whether spells can be used in certain instances. They bicker like a couple of old, long-married people, while the rest of the kids dive into notes they’ve taken, share each other’s sheets and basically work together to overcome and defeat monsters. And if Steve hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, hadn’t been there to watch the playful back and forth that was actually whimsical and light-hearted, he wouldn’t have believed it.

After Dustin throws a fit when an undead monster stays dead by Max a second time, when it should have resurrected once more to be killed a third, Eddie loses his cool. He picks up the suspect monster and hurls it across the garage, where it slides over the concrete floor and ends up in a pile of junk.

“He’s dead because I say so, got it?”

Steve watches fire dance in the guy’s eyes, but he’s not fooled. He understands, just like the kids do, that he’s not really angry. He’s enjoying this.

They’re a few hours in when Steve dies. And it’s not the fact that he’s dead, really. No. It’s the humiliating way it happens.

“Why the hell did you do it that way, you idiot?” Dustin shouts at Mike, who has made the decision to take a fancy bow-and-arrow shot between his legs, aiming for the space under Steve’s character’s arm where it sits on his hip. Unfortunately, it hits Roderick directly in the ass, and the following roll of the dice lands on the ‘twenty’ side. And the table erupts into shrieks and complaints in every direction. 

“You killed him!”

Steve sits back in his chair, shocked and not quite understanding what happened, when Eddie begins to laugh.

It’s not your typical everyday ha-ha funny thing. This is a full-bodied, chair tipped on two legs, clutching your stomach because you’re about to piss your pants, raucously mirthful and fucking joyful laugh.

And it goes on. And on. And on. It continues for so long, in fact, that Steve finds himself grinning. Dustin has his head in his hands, Will is defending Mike, and Max and Lucas are looking over Steve’s shoulder at his sheet to see how they can bring him back to life (because apparently, nobody else has healing spells).

Eventually, Eddie sets his chair back on four legs and gets out of it. He steps away from the table and motions for Steve. He walks right out of the garage.

Steve follows, because how can he not?

The trailer house is filled to the gills with old-people stuff, trinkets and wall hangings and lots of Catholic mementos. It smells like cigarette smoke, but it’s basically clean. Small and cramped, well-lived in, but not the kidnapper’s lair Steve imagined.

Eddie is in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, just his backside showing. He slams it closed and comes out with two PBRs. Eyebrows raised in question, he waits for Steve to open receptive hands before he tosses it over.

“Thanks,” Steve says. 

Eddie cracks his open and leans sideways against the counter, crossing one long leg over the other. He lifts his beer as acknowledgement and tips it back, watching Steve as he pops his open too. A grin lingers at the corner of his mouth.

“How do you know Dustin?” he asks once Steve has had a chance for a swallow. “Believe it or not, he hasn’t told me that yet.”

Steve imagines the breakneck speed at which Dustin talks, especially with someone he’s just met. And he hadn’t even considered that Dustin would have told Eddie about him.

“His mom knows mine. We went to the same school.”

Eddie tips his head slightly, like he needs a different angle to be able to understand. “How old are you?”

Steve considers the beer the guy tossed him and figures he must have an idea. “Twenty-two.”

Eddie smirks, eyes glinting. “Seems kinda suspicious for two guys to live together. Especially when you’re so much older than him.”

And Steve gets it. Eddie is making sure Steve isn’t hurting Dustin, just like Steve’s been trying to do with Eddie.

He counters with, “Well, how old are you? People might get the wrong idea, seeing as you’re an adult, and all, and these kids keep coming over to your house.”

Eddie’s smile widens and he takes another sip instead of answering. Steve decides to push the envelope a little.

“How do I know you’re not giving them drugs?”

Eddie chokes on his beer, but catches himself before it spews all over the kitchen. He coughs as he’s smiling, wipes his mouth off with a towel that’s threaded through the oven door handle. And when he looks at Steve, there’s some self-preservation bleeding through.

“Why do you think I invite them to play DnD here, huh? All sorts of shit goes down in this community that no one even knows about. They’re good kids, Steve. I just wanna keep ‘em safe.”

It’s the first time he’s said Steve’s name, and it feels – well, it feels, strangely intimate.

“I just didn’t realize they already had a babysitter,” Eddie teases, and the tense atmosphere lifts.

They share a look and a smile and it goes on for far too long.

That’s when Lucas slams the screen door open and leaps into the hallway. “We figured out how to save you!”

Steve catches Eddie’s eye before giving in to Lucas’ incessant tugging on his elbow.

“I’ll be there in a sec. Gotta take a piss,” Eddie says, burping into the back of his hand and crushing the can against his thigh. It’s something that shouldn’t make Steve’s brain fizz out. But it does.

Steve is bombarded when he enters the garage with a plan the group of them worked out together. It seems Will is still mad at Dustin, scowling over Mike’s shoulder, but the rest of them are enthusiastically escorting Steve to the table while explaining their plot to resurrect him.

Eddie strolls in, not five minutes later, with more beer. This time, instead of tossing it, he sets it on the table at Steve’s elbow and smiles down at him. Steve smiles back because he’s honestly over his head here.

They continue on, successfully completing that quest and jumping headlong into another, until Steve’s ass is sore and he has to pee, and he steps out into the now-night air to piss behind the garage.

Two beers in and his thoughts are making connections he really doesn’t need at the moment. Like how twice now he’s become completely enamored with someone the first time they meet. Like how he’s a sucker for a big, wet, expressive pair of eyes and an intelligent mind. Like how it doesn’t matter that Eddie’s a guy, because he’s not picky. And he’s suddenly sinking into the horrifying feeling that he’s cheating on –

But that’s ridiculous. He’s not going steady with anyone to be feeling that way.

When he returns, Eddie is telling a gory story about some chick in space who’s encountered alien things with acid blood. The kids are ‘ewing’ and ‘grossing’ and Dustin is on the edge of his seat listening to the tale. Eddie eyes Steve and winks, then dives into a graphic description of something called a ‘chestburster.’

Eddie laughs at their disgusted groans. “Ellen Ripley is fucking badass, and I love her.”

Steve feels a strange swoop in his gut. He doesn’t know who this Ellen Ripley is, but he’s suddenly jealous of her.

“I have an idea!” Max shouts over the din, waving her hands to get everyone’s attention. “We should go see the movie. All of us. Together. Suzie too”

“What movie?” Steve asks, and everyone answers in unison.

“Aliens!”

Steve makes eye contact with Eddie, who is watching him with amusement. He’s heard of the movie, but isn’t sure it’s the type of thing the kids would enjoy. He doesn’t even know what it’s rated, and if they can even get in to see it.

But the kids are already making plans for the following weekend. Dustin rounds on Steve and says he absolutely has to go with them.

“Yeah, Steve,” Eddie says, teasing from across the table. “You just have to go.”

Steve knows a challenge when he sees one. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to go, too.”

And that’s how Steve Harrington drives a carload of kids home, hopped up on caffeine and sugar, wondering how he’s gotten himself a group date with a bunch of teenagers and Eddie, of all things.

Read on AO3

[mrs-johansson]

Chapter 6 - Dark Phoenix II - Emergence of conflagration

Part 1:

“It’s our biggest sighting of Klaue in six months. Our destination is Casablanca, Morocco. We all know he operates mainly in Africa. Our sensors have found Vibranium in the biggest amount yet. Our mission is to retrieve the Vibranium. Klaue has become one of our highest priority targets, if anyone messes up this mission I will fire them myself, understood?” Looked around the room of agents. There were about 10 agents plus Sam and Natasha. “We leave 0500 sharp. Vibranium is the strongest metal on Earth, so prepare yourself.” Everyone stood up and took their files before leaving the conference room. “I’d hate you to be my boss,” Sam walked up to me. “I am your boss,” I chuckled dryly knowing he still doesn’t think I’m his boss. “Okay, fine. Is there anything else for the mission? I’d like to be prepared,” he said and I looked up from the leftover papers. “You know your way around raids, we can use your experience with this many recruits. You have to take this seriously, Sam. I count on you in this one,” I said and he dropped his smile and put on a serious face instead. “Absolutely, thank you for trusting me with this.” I gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder before he left.

“Any notes for me?” Natasha leaned against the table, crossing her arms in front of her chest, a slight smirk on her lips. I looked her up and down before going back to the papers. “Notes… Romanoff, I don’t know if I could give you any useful advice. Just don’t vandalize my mission, I heard that’s kind of your thing,” I said without looking at her otherwise I would have laughed straight away. “Yeah, that’d be fun though. Anyway, I was thinking you and Katarina could come over later. I’ve got something for her,” she suggested and I chucked. “Natalia, you have to stop buying her new stuff every week,” I grabbed the papers and made my way to my office, Natasha following close behind. “But I love seeing her face when she's surprised. Y/n, she stopped abnormally fast, we need to spoil her while we can,” her arm gently snuck around my waist pulling me closer so she could leave a kiss on the side of my head. A smile came along my face feeling so much happiness and calmness in our relationship.

The last 6 months were a growing experience. Natasha and I started going to couples counseling. It was my idea and Nat was pretty skeptical about it at first, she needed some convincing but eventually she agreed to do it. After six months of doing it, she actually became fond of it. It keeps us in line I think.

Natasha and I haven’t moved in together yet which I think was a healthy balance to our relationship. We made sure to build it up securely and honestly, trying to be as independent as possible while also being in a loving relationship.

Of course, we spent all of our free time just us two and Katarina. We always try to spend some quality time together, either going to the zoo or some museum that Katarina could enjoy too.

So that’s been great, I love our relationship and I feel like we will be good.

Katarina had stopped growing fast and since the surgery, her hearing and speaking abilities became better and better. She’s gonna turn 4 in just a month and she’s the most amazing little human. Nowadays, she talks your ear off if you’re not careful enough. It became a tradition that every time Natasha was over at our place, Rina read Nat a chapter of Harry Potter.

Her abilities still don't fail to amuse us. She’s reading like she’s in high school and her vocabulary is insanely high. My dad has offered that he could teach her physics and math but I denied it. She’s 4. I want her to have a childhood. Watch her play the snow carelessly, scrape her knee on the playground, cry because she can’t stay up too late, or smudge her face into her birthday cake. I don’t want her to grow too fast unnecessarily. She deserves every little moment there’s to enjoy.

“What did you get her?” I asked Natasha while we entered my office. She took a seat in my chair very quickly. “A set of the Harry Potter movies. Special edition,” my mouth fell open, and looked right at her. “I wanted to get that for Christmas. Oh my god, you have to stop at least until her birthday. You’re gonna steal all my gift ideas,” I said. I packed away all the files and got my bag. “Fine. Ready to go?” She turned with the chair but did not care to stand up. “Just one more thing,” she stood up and closed the door before turning on the shades in the glass windows. “What are you doing?” I asked and she just walked back to me and took the bag out of my hand, dropping it to the ground, making me gasp. “That’s a really nice bag, why would-“ She cut me off with a kiss. Very unexpected at the moment but not complaining.

Her hands were quick to get a grip on my waist, moving to the edge of the table. I pulled myself back for a second, taking heavy breaths. “We need to pick up, Katarina,” I panted. “We have an hour, calm down,” Natasha kissed down my neck, hands roaming my body. “Thank god, I couldn’t have left this room,” I put my hands on her face and pulled her back into a kiss.

***

“I have to make this room soundproof,” I mumbled to Nat as she closed the door behind us. “Maybe next time keep it down a notch,” she bumped her shoulder to mine with a smirk on her face. “Maybe next time-“ “I hate that my office is next to yours,” Maria walked past us.

After I basically ran to the car and Natasha took her sweet time we finally made our way to Katarina’s school and picked her up. I ordered the groceries on the way and once we got to Natasha’s place it just arrived.

Rina ran inside the apartment as Nat chased her while I took the groceries from the delivery guy. “Wow, I’ve never delivered anything to an Avenger, you guys are really cool. Thanks for keeping us safe,” said the man, and I appreciated how nice he said it. “Our pleasure,” I smiled at him. “Is it possible for me to take a picture with you?” He asked a little hesitantly. “Of course, no problem,” I stood next to him and we took a picture before he said thank you and left.

“Was there a problem with the order?” Asked Natasha as I entered the kitchen. “No, he just wanted to take a picture with me. He was really nice,” I said.

Unpacked all the stuff we ordered and after a little while I cooked something real quick, not in the mood to make anything big. We sat down and ate then Nat spoke up.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said, pinching Katarina’s side. The little girl’s eyes widened and a big smile appeared on her face. “Really?” She asked. “Yup, stay here,” Nat stood up and went off to her room and a couple of seconds later walked out with a bag in her hand and a cheeky smile on. “What is it?” Asked my daughter curiously. Natasha handed her the bag and Katarina was quick to rip open the box and when she saw it she gasped loudly.

“Oh my god, yes!” She said excitedly and observed the package of Harry Potter movies like it’s a treasure. “Thank you,” Rina jumped out of her seat and was quick to shower Natasha with hugs and kisses. “You’re welcome, baby,” she kissed her head while hugging her close. “I love you, Natty,” Katarina mumbled against Nat’s shoulder and the smile that pulled on the redhead’s face was remarkable. “I love you too, Bean.”

The rest of the day went by really fast. Clint was nice enough to take Katarina to school so I could go to the mission in time so at 4 am sharp I was already at the HQ, preparing for our departure. Got my guns and knives ready and met with Nat and Sam at the deck ten minutes before 5.

“Be aware of the trainees. I don’t want any of them to mess this up or get killed on my watch, but stick to your mission too. Be safe and don’t do anything stupid,” I said to the two of them. “She’s talking to you,” Sam glanced at Natasha who scoffed at this. “She’s definitely talking to you,” she said. “I’m talking to both of you.”

At 5 we took off with the team, flying straight to Morocco. Our estimated arrival was 6 which was successful thank god because I didn’t want them to slip away this time.

“Sam, I’ve got you new glasses, you have to wear these,” I handed him a box and he took it with a smile. “Wow, a present for me,” he opened it but the smile dropped from his face. “They look the same,” he said. “Yeah, but they have a Vibranium sensor in them. It detects metal, which makes our job a little easier.”

“Okay everyone, it’s showtime. Team R leaves first then Team W and then Team S. Comms are on at all times, you see something you share, yeah? Don’t die,” I said then we were ready to go.

Nat left first with her team then Sam and lastly me. I was very protective of this mission because I’ve been after Klaue for the last six months and he always seemed to be two steps ahead of me.

I neared the main entrance with four agents behind me, Nat and Sam’s teams already making their way inside.

It was a bigger building than these compounds usually look. Security was way more advanced and a lot more guarded. “We can get through, but there are way more guards than we expected, Y/n,” heard Natasha over the comms. “Yeah, I got that. But I’m not leaving until I have Klaue.” “You’re the boss.”

[whatsjulietslastname]

I just realized Max and Chloe couldn’t even go to a therapist after they left Arcadia Bay.

We already know that they are the only one who can possibly understand what the other went through, because obviously no one would believe them if they just told them Max had time travel powers and was responsible for the Storm (even though I don’t believe she was but that’s a discussion for another day…). Like, no matter how many friends they make afterwards, they’ll never feel connected enough with them because of it, and that’s an aspect that I found really interesting in this ending. Even if Chloe and Max go to Max’s parents, like the popular headcanon say, I don’t think they’ll ever tell them everything that happened this week. They’ll most likely keep this knowledge just between the two of them, and that’s something that is really present in their relationship, the whole ‘it’s us against the world’ thing.

But anyway, I was thinking how hard it would be for the two of them to just move on, and go on with their lives after something like that, both for different reasons :

We’ve seen in Max’s nightmare how her powers and everything she’s seen and went through had a huge toll on her mentally speaking, and that’s just logical, but she was also kidnapped, sequestered, drugged and mentally abused by an adult she trusted, she’s seen one of her friend kill herself before her eyes, she had to kill/refuse to kill her paralyzed best friend, then had to watch said best friend’s dad leaving while being the only one to know he wouldn’t come back, she’s seen her best friend die countless times before her eyes, AND her hometown was blown away by a storm she’s convinced she caused.

Meanwhile, Chloe had her best friend back, only for said best friend to jump in her arms every two days telling her « hey let’s not to do that really fucked up thing we were about to do because you’re dying and it’s gonna be traumatizing I’ve seen it » and she had to go along with it without knowing what was going on. Gentle reminder that to Chloe, everything happened WITHIN A WEEK. That must’ve been genuinely confusing, especially when at the end of the week, there’s a storm coming and Max just goes « that’s my fault, oh my God » (I know there was a lot more explaining in the game but I’m trying to show how rushed and strange it felt to Chloe) and then suddenly her hometown is being blown away before her eyes and now she’s leaving with her best friend. And I didn’t even mention the whole Rachel thing. Because yes, at the end of the game, Chloe is still very much grieving.

So yeah, I was thinking that they’d really need help after that, because that was really fucked up and it would be really hard to process and accept and heal from, and then I realized that they couldn’t even go to a therapist because even if they did, and just said they were here because they were survivors of the Storm and it traumatized them, that wouldn’t lead them anywhere, and that would really not help a lot.

So yeah, the fact that they seemed to do just fine in Life is Strange 2 and had a pretty normal and cool life together is honestly impressive, kudos to them for being so strong. Let’s just say they healed together thanks to the power of love :)

[cjoatprehn]

Survival Financial Request!

My mom’s been filing for bankruptcy, has been extremely financially stressed lately, and trying to get me over to her has been really stressful. She’s a burn victim from a Yankee Candle catching on fire on Halloween, she received 3rd degree burns on most of her body for trying to save her support dog. Between support animal costs, food, rent, and hospital recovery, she’s in dire need of aid. If y’all could and are in a position to help, could you send some money over, please, to help ensure she will be able to at the very least have some pressure off her shoulders? And a sweet note, if you want to—? Thank you…

Adding to this post-

I want to make clear I’ve been struggling to keep us and others afloat, and now I’m at a point in my life and health where I am no longer able to do so. They’re cutting away more food stamp money from many households in the legislature not just ours, and I’m in the process of moving to my mom’s to help out. And also—

I’m kinda Flipping out right now. I don’t want to lie, with the US being a 3rd world country now. I’m flipping out because last month…was the last month they would be giving food money in the 100s. With food so high and Rent higher. SSI—I don’t even know. …I’m smiling but I don’t know what else to do. My moms still recovering from 3rd degree burns, surgery, and trying to get me there, and I’ve learned that the Aunt that had control of late great grandma’s reservoir for funds…Help won’t last long.

I’m scared, and I’m losing hope. I don’t want to go out as the person who Fucking struggled and suffered their entire life, never got to flourish. …I’ve never thought of making a gofundme again. Every time I’ve made one it never reached anything. And…I-can’t even maintain a savings for long. If we run out of money or assistance, then my mom stops getting treatment. Her dog doesn’t get food or treatment…and we’ll lose the little we have left.

She doesn’t have any friends or many connections outside of herself or her former government job. So—I’m just—like—trying to convince her to.. at least accept my help. I know everyone’s not in the best financial situation to help but—I can’t continue giving good energy to the universe from an empty cup…so I really appreciate the support..!

For record only, no longer helping someone who wants to gaslight and abuse me. I’ve been evicted as of May 9th, 2023. I found a place to stay for last night and possibly tonight. After that I’m on the streets. I’ve accepted I might not make it. I’m bedbound forced to rest by my body and disabilities. My phone has been deactivated by my mom only to discover she can’t reactivate it due to my phone being 6-7 years old. It’s too old to be reactivated with its old line.

But…hey…I’m no longer at my abusive home situation. I don’t wish to tell my dad’s side of the family. My mom prolly let them know anyway. I don’t know for sure though.

…I’m so flipping screwed. Had to deactivate my throne, due to no longer having that address. So…I’m just.. Here. Waiting. Watching my time come closer.

Thread of some of the abuse from my mom. I don’t feel like typing it all here..

https://cjoatbysamwise.com/donate-to-cjoat

…I’m scared. But I don’t know what else to do so I’m accepting my fate and situation for now at least. So.

Here’s to updates..

Late Update:

Got yelled at, insulted, and screamed at by my mom through text. She’s called AT&T to lock everything down; I asked her for my account information. When she didn’t answer for the next 5-6 hours. I had AT&T send an email and a text to her & asked her for what they sent her. I got accused of hacking. I’m Not getting my phone line back.

Oh and to top it off, she sent me a picture of Storme laying outside of where I used to sleep. With Storme saying hi. I relayed a message to Storme. It would be a goodbye unless we meet again.

…So I’m unable to exactly…Do anything so. Just…Trying to calm my heart rate down…It’s been elevated all damn day…and increasing..

Good News: The Situation has Partly Cleared!

I cued a erasure on the iPhone 14 Pro Max, which my mom gave me and then took away from me after snooping through my iPhone 8+ and kicking me out, as soon as it connects to the internet; that way, my mom gets to return the phone, she gets her $1K+ back, problem solved. However, twice my mom sent 2 “Reset Apple ID Password” pop-ups on my devices, which…fuck off, mom, tf?

In response, after checking with the select few, I have changed my Apple ID email, because she doesn’t know my Apple ID password. I will be working with Apple Customer Servicee to ensure she can not steal my Apple account through Screen Time (which is possible). Conclusively:

I have a bed and address, temporarily but for awhile, unsure of how long, definitely more than a few days. Right now, until things stabilize with assistance, I don’t have to pay yet, despite being willing to. Currently slowly getting out of survival mode. Many of my stuff remain at my mom’s. I am able to get another physical SIM for my phone. Throne should be showing and working now, because I now have a new address, temporary while I figure what to do from here. I am no longer am able to draw due to my stylus breaking and my disc tips running out. Still got to get back. Laptop is out of commission until I get a new laptop charger, or until I get my old one back. That’s the update for now.

…I’m…finally going to heal, now that I’m safe and in a warm & accepting, and lax environment.

Still going to need assistance, thank y’all so much for supporting me so far.

[vyther16]

wip wednesday!

today is the beginning of a sequel i said i wasn't going to write and might not finish anyway. but have nong time travel spider-man point meme pt2. also, this is the last time i try to write a conversation in which there are meant to be eight (8) active participants.

cw: implied dissociation, mentioned character death

snippet under the cut

The aftermath of Kim’s murders has the three of them locked into what looks like a private office. Macau’s face is still bloody, but it looks like the nosebleed has at least stopped. Chay can feel the bruise forming on his knuckles. Kim is pacing like a caged tiger, shoulders tense. They confiscated his gun, and a number of other weapons Chay didn’t even realize he had on him. Then they took his shoes and his belt and his jacket, leaving him in his jeans and an oversized white t-shirt. Chay knows Kim was a good fighter, but the bodyguards are acting a little ridiculous about it if you asked him. They didn’t take Macau’s belt. “Look, Kim,” Macau starts from the table he’s laying across. Kim stops abruptly, turning to stare at him. “I’m glad our dads are dead— it needed to happen. Now we need to figure out how the hell to convince our brothers of that.” There’s a bit of blood splattered on Kim’s shirt. Chay resolves not to tell him that. “And we need to let them know about my mom,” Chay adds, because like hell he’s leaving his mom in Korn’s prison now that the man is dead. Kim’s gaze swings to Chay. “That part’s easy. We just need to wait for Chan to get in here to interrogate us.” His voice is carefully modulated, and Chay scrambles to his feet. Kim is a lot closer to freaking out than he expected. “Okay, but how long is that going to be?” Macau counters. “Because Chan is going to be directing a lot of the clean-up.” Before Chay or Kim can reply, the door swings open, revealing all of their older brothers, led by none other than Chan. “Not long, apparently,” Chay snarks as he moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with Kim. Macau rolls off the table behind them, coming up to stand next to Chay. “Boys,” Chan says, voice flat. “Please. Have a seat.” He gestures at the conference table Macau had been lounging on. Chan sits at the head of the table, Vegas and P’Kinn on either side of him. P’Khun is pale-faced and silent, which freaks Chay out more than anything else. Kim sits across from Chan and Macau claims the seat next to his brother. Porsche hasn’t sat down, instead standing behind P’Khun with a hand on his gun. His face softens when Chay catches his eye, and he gestures for the seat by P’Khun. Chay considers it, but opts to stay standing instead. P’Khun is kinda freaking him out right now. “Now,” Chan starts. “Kim. Please tell us what happened.” Kim opens his mouth, and then closes it, eyes darting around the room. “You were all there,” Macau says, when it becomes clear that Kim isn’t going to say anything. “Chay punched me, we ran in arguing, and while we were distracting everyone, Kim shot Pa and Uncle Korn. Then you locked us in here.” “But why?” P’Kinn’s voice is smaller than Chay has ever heard it. Macau is silent at that, looking back at Kim, who still looks about one wrong word away from shattering. Fuck it, Chay thinks, and steps forward. “Because it had to be done.” “And who the fuck are you?” Vegas asks, voice hoarse. “I’m Namphueng Kittisiwat’s son,” Chay says, and watches Chan’s eyes widen comically. “By the way, could I go see her? Someone should probably tell her that her captor is dead.” “Chay, what the fuck?” Porsche says, hand dropping from his gun to stare at him. “Ma died in a car crash. I was there.” “Yeah, that was a lie, right Chan?” Chay grins at Chan, who is now looking vaguely constipated.

thanks for reading!

[franzkafkagf]

I think in an alternate universe Aegon could be such a chaotic Rhaenyra supporter and Helaenas could be so supportive of that. She’s seen what happens if they’re not.

Him and Helaenas honeymoon is them going to hang out on Dragonstone, Viserys loves it, Alicent does not, Rhaenyra and Daemon are a bit confused but can’t blame them for also not wanting to be in the capital

He keeps asking Viserys to call Daeron home, he’s just been away so long and Aegons worried his bonds with their family are weakening, he and Jace were so close as babes, it’d be shame for them to lose that. He will manipulate his own father for the betterment of the kingdom. Everyone else is doing it anyway.

He also keeps trying to invite the Baratheons and the Arryns to visit the capital, Alicents not happy, Viserys isn’t really either, but to not might be an insult (maybe aegon kind of drunkenly writes to Lady Jeyne to convince her to come on the basis of “the capital has forgotten who his nephews take after, he’s heard Jace looks much like her and he’d really appreciate aid in reminding everyone of that” Jeyne doesn’t really like him, but she can appreciate it as a political move in support of Rhaenyra.

He and Helaena start spitballing ideas together and come to the conclusion of she could try and wear some of Rhaenyras old dresses, because “oh, poor girl, she must miss her sister terribly”

He invites his cousin (this term is used loosely) Garmund to the capital (Rhaena marries him in the books, and they have six daughters together. I’m not saying that’d be the Rhaena ship, but that’s my basis for him being down to clown with Helaegons political scheme to not be king and queen) because Garmund isn’t like the other Hightowers, but he can be a Hightower in their favor. (He’s a third son, his dad would probably go for it to help his marriage prospects)

Aegon sometimes just comes home with a new bastard child, team green kinda has to shut up about accusing Rhaenyra of having bastards when Aegons publicly claiming and then bringing them into his household. They might not even all be his, Daemon was kind of a hoe, at least on of them is actually his grandkid. (Helaenas on board, if anyone brings it up she’ll act little cross and tell them she’d rather a husband who cared for all his children, even if he doesn’t have to)

hi anon this is kinda old but youre right i could see this happening! kind of iconic actually😭 just need to add rhaegon freak sex on dragonstone somewhere in there

[anewkindofme]

Would love to hear more about little TK and Owen his caregiver dad in the little verse. I would love if you could share head-canons and maybe hear about the moving to Texas and how they transitioned to the new place and whether or not Tk tries to hide being a little and tries to convince his dad to play along? He wants to be taken seriously and seen as an adult, they already know the captain is his dad who he still lives with and think he gets special treatment When they first met Judd basically says and implies Tk is a daddy's boy, he gets special treatment and still needs his dad to take care of him. I thought maybe Tk accidentally call Owen daddy when they are at work and worried the crew might suspect he is a little. He is a little behind on millstone, independence and maturity/adulthood. Maybe Owen tries to reassure him they won't think that because Owen is his dad so it is his job to take care of him no matter how old he is that is what you sign up for when you choose to become a parent, whether their kid turns a a neautrul, a little, a flip, a caregiver, etc. Also, curious do you think Tk might be nerodivergent? Sorry for rambling I love world building part of the littles are known universe, it also why I love the omegaverse so much. Love your fics and love forward to reading them, I even read your fics where I have never watched the show:).

Ask me for headcanons on characters from my fandom list!

Hi there! Thanks so much for your kind words. ❤️ It truly means the world to me when people read my work, even when they haven’t watched the show! Never apologize for rambling, I love doing stuff like this.

By the way, this is one of my favorite TK/Owen scenes. I’m a sucker for pinching/squishing cheeks moments-thus why I include them in my fics often. This isn’t exactly that, but it’s close and just so adorable, especially as Owen talks to him like he’s a little baby. Also, the way TK looks all embarrassed but still rests his head on his dad’s shoulder. He’s just so baby.

Anyway, enough gushing, onto the headcanons!

So, TK couldn’t exactly hide being a Little. Classifications are sort of common knowledge. TK was less worried about people knowing that he’s a Little but definitely more so that they’d think he’d get special treatment, as well as not take him seriously.

He definitely tries to prove himself early on by acting tough and too cool for anything, as well as going above and beyond. The first couple of calls, he pulled a lot of dangerous stunts that resulted in him being scolded by his dad-full name and all-in front of everyone.

Owen tries to let him be as big as possible, but as you said, TK is a little behind on a lot of things. He does try to be subtle about it (like whispering reminders about going potty or putting on his pull-up before they sleep at the station).

TK feels bad that he needs all of this 26 years later on top of his guilt of all he put him through regarding his addiction. Owen promises him that all is forgiven and this is his job. Even if TK was a caregiver or neutral, he’d still care about him and want to help him.

Some of the 126 does give him a hard time at first. Not because he’s a Little, but definitely because he’s such a Daddy’s Boy. Owen quickly corrects it, which embarrasses TK at first but it does get them to stop. The flip side is, he can’t do anything without Owen hearing about it. Judd and Paul have no issue going to him about TK’s behavior (and Owen does the same for Judd, re: Mateo).

TK slips up and occasionally calls Owen “Daddy”, but only really gets embarrassed about it if he slips while they’re on a call. The 126 is family and he’s not the only Little on the team, not even the only one with a caregiver who’s also apart of it, so once he gets comfortable, it’s really no big deal that he can act a little younger, even when he’s big. On calls, though, he feels he should be professional. Most of the time, the victims are too focused on their own trauma to hear. If they do, they just think it’s sweet.

Though, I’m also now picturing this scene in a new light…

Owen: I’m not certified.

Karen: What about him? *points to TK*

TK: I’m gay, ma’am. And a Little.

The one and only time he’ll admit it in the field. I guarantee that Karen would be against Littles too.

Overall, it’s an adjustment period. One that takes time for TK and Owen to navigate.

I’m still trying to figure out what Owen does with TK when he drops but Owen has to work. In all my verses, society is set up to be understanding of Littles needing time off from school and work. But their caregivers obviously can’t get as much leeway. I’m thinking maybe there’s a system in place where the station always has one that will stay behind if that happens. I don’t know. Is it realistic? Maybe not, but we’re also discussing a world where Littles are known, so we can make it what we want!

Also, totally forgot to add, I can totally see TK as nuerodivergent! I totally headcanon him as having some learning disabilities (don’t ask me why but he seems very dyslexic and dyscalculia coded) as well as being autistic. Owen would make sure he has all the accommodations needed.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

If DCLA characters had Tumblr 🕺🏼

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Thanks for all the comments on my latest fic update! Chapter 140 should be up any day now <3

#continue to give me comments! #it makes me so happy! #except for that one person please stop giving comments i’m scared

5 notes

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

I am convinced I have found one of the girls in my school’s fanfiction account. I can’t confront her about it because she will never admit it, so I have left cryptic comments on her fics to leave hints that I know.

♻️ 🌟 supernova-number-one follow

So I’m obviously not her, but on my fics, someone has left a bunch of really weird comments and I am so afraid that it’s someone I know irl. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I write fanfiction, as I am paranoid it would lead to my mom finding out, and that could lead to her looking through my fics. And I swear she’d look through every single chapter of my 139 chapter long fic.

Though, it’s kinda funny that you do it to the girl from your school. Hope she gets busted haha.

♻️ 🌼 punk-not-dead follow

Oh yeah, I really get that! Let’s hope whoever it is leaving cryptic messages on your fic is someone nice, or just a troll.

I’m close to busting her… I’ll give an update >:)

10 notes

👩🏻‍🦱 dangerously-beautiful-ant follow

You ever see a girl and you’re just… yeah.

♻️🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Felt this.

♻️✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

Not sure if this is about girls being pretty or not but I choose to believe the gay view

♻️ 👩🏻‍🦱 dangerously-beautiful-ant follow

Good. That was the intention 😉

♻️😎 rapmiro follow

LOOOL not me thinking it was about someone starting to rap the second they saw a girl

33k notes

🎤 singing-is-who-i-am follow

Tfw you don’t remember if that thing you recall happening in your childhood happened when you lived in the UK, France or Congo, or if it happened in your home country at some point

♻️📸 felicityfornow follow

OP, respectfully, how many countries have you lived in, and why?

♻️ 🎤 singing-is-who-i-am follow

I have lost count.

Long story short, my dad thought moving to new countries would help him deal with his issues :-)

#he was SURPRISED when I said I needed to go to therapy

80 notes

🎨 biamakesart follow

Hi! I just wanted to say, I’m open for commissions! Check my pinned post for more information.

Everyone remember to keep cool and always be yourselves 🌈💖🫶

2k notes

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Another day of being painfully in love with your female best friend while everyone thinks you’re in love with this annoying boy, because ”you seem so annoyed with him, thus you must care and have a crush on him”. Like shut up??

♻️ ✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

Oof yeah I hate everyone assuming you’re straight. Sadly I was in a comphet field for so long and had this mindset both about my friend and of others.

I also have a crush on my bestie. Everyone says she’s in love with a boy but she herself dismisses it. Hm. Do you think I should ask her if she likes girls?

♻️ 🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Uh!! Yeah!

Please update when/if you did!

Maybe I should confess to my friend too… hopefully it goes well.

♻️ 🎀 italys-biggest-bow-collector follow

It’s been 3 days. How did it go? Did anyone confess?

♻️ 🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

So, here’s a funny story…

Turns out @arodarmivida and I know each other irl. I should have guessed by her username, that’s literally my bestie’s favorite song.

♻️ ✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

Yeah guys plot twist we are the two best friends who secretly pined after each other and anyway we’re dating now 💜

♻️ 🌼 punk-not-dead follow

Happy 2 years to this wonderful post

♻️ 😎 rapmiro follow

Am I the only one curious about the boy they thought one of them had a crush on?

22k notes

💍 queenoftherink follow

Not my ”mom” trying to shape me to be exactly like her and then becoming surprised when I have the same stubborness and willpower as her.

♻️ 🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Why do you have ”mom” in quotations?

♻️ 💍 queenoftherink follow

There are some things that are too complicated to explain, my dear lesbian on the internet.

999 notes

📸 felicityfornow follow

It’s so funny because I’ve had this blog for so long that I forget that not everyone knows that my real name is not Felicity.

♻️ 🌼 punk-not-dead follow

Lol, reminds me of people who wonders why I have this url.

What can I say, it was 2012 and I had a phase. Now I am too lazy to change it.

♻️ 👩🏻‍🦱 dangerously-beautiful-ant follow

My url’s backstory is so funny because it’s from one (1) conversation I had with a girl where she called me an ant and then it just got stuck like this

♻️ 🌟 supernova-number-one follow

That’s so funny because I called my best friend an ant once. I guess it’s a common thing to call people 😁

My url is self explanatory obviously 😚😏🤩

60 notes

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

Fell out of my bed again 🤣🤣🤣🤣

♻️ 💍 queenoftherink follow

I’m so glad I decided to stare at you sleeping tonight so I could see that action.

♻️ 🧢 everythingscominguponmaxi follow

Why did you stare at her sleeping?

♻️ 💍 queenoftherink follow

We live together.

♻️ 🎤 singing-is-who-i-am follow

It still does not answer the question?

40 notes

🎸 beanie-guitarist follow

Here’s a reminder for @rollerskatingonthemoon to take her adhd meds, bestie I know you have forgotten

♻️ 🎸 beanie-guitarist follow

@ queenoftherink can you remind her if she does not see this

♻️ 🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

I didn’t forget 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😆😆😆😆😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

♻️ 💍 queenoftherink follow

She ran into the kitchen and said ”WHERE IS MY MEDICINE I FORGOT” and then sat on the counter kicking her feet in the air as she took it.

Needless to say she did forget. Thank you for reminding her.

♻️ 🍓 chico-fresa follow

It’s so funny following y’all, because you sound exactly like people I know irl 😃

7 notes

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I wrote a post recently about how, the more I get into live stand-up comedy, the more the contrived nature of TV comedy bothers me. It’s not that I didn’t see it before, it just didn’t seem like a problem, until I started hearing comedy shows that were entirely written by the person performing them and had those as a basis for comparison. It makes some of the stuff I used to like a bit harder to listen to, now.

I’ve been re-watching some old episodes of The Mash Report/Late Night Mash lately, and interestingly, I’ve found that hasn’t happened with that.

It’s sometimes a bit awkward and stilted when Nish is reading an autocue, because someone reading an autocue is always a bit awkward. But it’s not that bad. Normally on TV, when one comedian laughs really hard at another comedian’s joke, I think 1) I’ve heard that comedian make that joke on other panel shows before, you’ve definitely heard it before too, and 2) even if you hadn’t heard it before, you would have heard it in rehearsal, right? You can’t be surprised at what happens in a show that you rehearsed before filming it.

But when Nish corpses, I do tend to believe him. Because I’m pretty sure Nish Kumar’s just like that. Doesn’t matter if he heard the joke in rehearsal already. Nish Kumar finds everything funny, and will let you know that. I think there might have been a time when I thought Nish was maybe, slightly, occasionally playing up his loud and generous laughter for attention on TV. But I’m now pretty convinced it’s real, more so than most of what you’ll see on TV. If he’s faking that, it’s a very successful long con, he has committed to the bit hard.

Anyway, I re-watched Late Night Mash s01e04 today, and God that show was good. Here are some clips of it that feature three comedians whom I now very much like as stand-ups: Olga Koch (I’ve heard four of her stand-up hours in the last couple of weeks, enjoyed all of them, have quickly become a fan), Ahir Shah (winner of the award for best Edinburgh show of 2023, I’ve heard quite a few 2023 Edinburgh shows and agree with the judges’ pick, as well as having a huge soft spot for his 2019 show because 1) I really enjoyed watching it, and 2) it’s what convinced me to go back on anxiety meds so I do briefly think of him every night when I take a cocktail of pills), and Nish Kumar (eighth wonder of the world, based on some of the stand-up he’s been trying out lately he’s got a good shot at my favourite stand-up hour of 2024). None of them came across on this show as too manufactured, as something I can’t enjoy because they’re more contrived than they are in stand-up. I think The Mash Report(/Late Night Mash) was doing something well, in letting their actual talent come through.

Olga's segment had a lot of stuff from her actual stand-up show in that year, presented in a way that I thought, if anything, worked even better than it did in her filmed special.

And as for Ahir’s bits, I’d like to say – aw, it’s okay, Ahir, in a couple of years you won’t be able to do jokes about whether it’s the government’s fault that you’re single, because you’ll do a beautiful emotionally moving stand-up show that involves discussing your upcoming marriage (a marriage that I believe happened within the last couple of weeks, so good for him, try to keep any cheating on her to fewer than three years, Ahir, because some people have disappointed me lately and I need to be able to believe in something).

To be fair, the part in that clip about how he likes the idea of being a dad but would really rather be an uncle due to less commitment, was a less good version of the quote from the end of his 2019 Edinburgh show: “All I want from life is to be sat in a room with a glass of wine and a book and a fire, and I have a family but they’re not there.” I really recommend watching the stand-up special that closes with that line (Ahir Shah’s Dots, 2019 Edinburgh show filmed in 2021, that show also has the pearl of wisdom that going off anti-depressants “is a pro-depressant” and might be worth reversing) a month or so after breaking up with your girlfriend because you had a crisis of mental health and realized you love having people in your life but struggle with the actual ordeal of tolerating other people’s actual presence for long periods of time. Solid thing to watch at that point. It’ll fuck you up.

Anyway, how did I get onto this subject? I’m doing fine, definitely not getting a second wave of sadness about a breakup that I really had gotten mostly over but it was a year ago this month and the things that the weather is doing are reminding me of what happened last year during this month when the weather did the same thing. Definitely not making it so an innocent post about The Mash Report has somehow found its way onto that subject. It’s fine.

The point is The Mash Report was a good show. I’ve checked, I’ve watched all the other ones, and that one was good. I’ve been listening to a lot of Alan Partridge lately, and recently heard him say he’s sorry to leave the BBC now (in Big Beacon, an audiobook that was published in late 2023), since it’s only just becoming the way he likes it, with lots of conservatives (I think the character meant it with a small C, the authors clearly meant it with a capital C) in executive roles. It was, to be honest, a bit of a clunky moment in an overall great body of writing. A moment that felt a little more like the authors using the character as a mouthpiece, than something he’d genuinely say (not that that doesn’t line up with Alan Partridge’s established worldview, it just didn’t sound like how he’d put it). However, those authors definitely had a point. Fuck the people who canceled this show. (And Dave, to be fair the above clips are from Late Night Mash and it was actually Dave that canceled that, after the BBC canceled The Mash Report and then Dave gave it two Late Night Mash seasons before putting getting rid of it for real, but still fuck them.)

[claudiamoon777]

Part Two of my writing prompt story!

When Isabelle and I first met, it felt like I could do anything, as long as she was near. When I first looked at her, I noticed several things: her hair was very poofy and bounced when she laughed, she wore bold red lipstick (a blood red, not the bright red that a middle aged receptionist wears to call herself fun), and as she walked over she laughed. It was a big, light up the room laugh. She was enchanting. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” Isabelle smirked as she approached the bar.

I half scoffed, half laughed, “you’re very forward”

“I’ll buy her another, and I’ll have one myself” She was now addressing the bartender, “and another round for everyone on me” 

She then turned back to me, and I could notice more things. Her very tight black shirt, matte not glossy, her baggy jeans, also black. But her very poofy hair was even more hypnotising up close. 

“What’s the occasion?” I asked as the bartender slid another mojito my way. 

“My dad just died,” She smiled.

I choked on my newly bought mojito and managed to cough out a, “Sorry for your loss.”

“I’m not” She laughed, and again her hair bounced, “do you wanna dance?”

6 years later and I’m sobbing into a far-too-fancy couch to soak up my tears. 

I sniffled and checked the time: 8:41. 

I feel tempted to scream until my throat is red-raw but I have things to do and unfortunate places to be. 

I managed to land a job interview at 9:30 this morning, for a psychologist job. 

“That’s good news!” Marie beamed when I told her. 

I’m honestly too tired to tell if it’s genuine happiness or an act because I am now pathetic. I am also: overly jetlagged, heartbroken, and now very insecure about the bad dye job I impulsively decided to do. 

So, I’ve no time to analyse Marie.

Am I prepared for this? I always default to this question. “Am I prepared for this?” Was something I asked myself before schlepping coffee to pay for a psych degree, it was also something I asked when I moved out, it was again something I asked myself when I got engaged. 

I find it rarely helps. I’m going to have to go to this interview anyway, and I’m going to have to figure out how not to look like an unprofessional lunatic with patchy hair. 

I shove my box-dyed monstrosity in a bun and claw clip and convince myself that it’s fine.

It’s going to have to do anyway because I need to go. 

I’ve always hated living out of suitcases. I had to do it for about a month before we got a house in Spain. I had to do it when I was 11 and my parents moved. And now, I am digging through this stupid suitcase trying to find my green blouse and navy pants. 

I swear I’d packed them near the top because I’d need them sooner. Which brings me to my absolute hatred for living out of suitcases - you have to plan! Plan for the weather, if it’s hot put coats down the bottom. And I am not a planner. I’ve found the pants, thank god or anyone else who knew I needed to find them. And so all I have to rely on is the ability to scan for my perfect, professional, pressed, sage green blouse. 

9:13

I really need to go, so now I’m digging as fast as I can through these 2 suitcases until I find it. In a glimpse of what has to be millions of different black and white and blue socks, there it is. A satin, sage green blouse, no longer pressed or perfect but professional enough for someone who has given up.

Note: This does not yet have a title but I will 100% accept any ideas!

[fractallogic]

It’s actually a blessing in disguise how many times I’ve had to move, because it’s preventing me from taking EVERYTHING that I MIGHT want from my mom’s house (and it’s really hard to convince my brother that he doesn’t have to take everything that he might possibly want, and in fact actually CANNOT take everything he might possibly want, because we have a small car and my stuff needs to fit in it too)

But also thank god we found an old duffel bag of my mom’s (and I also brought one) because it’s coming in clutch right now. I’m having four (FOUR) bags because I have five or six cookbooks that I cried over (so obviously can’t get rid of them) plus my mom’s binder of whatever the fuck recipes she printed off the internet that i also cried over (and also it has OLD old pictures of her and my dad on their work volleyball and softball teams!). Also tbh thank god I have enough airline status that I can check two bags for free because it would be so fucking stupid to check a DUFFEL BAG for $50 or whatever it would be

…also my main suitcase full of the cookbooks (and some other books) might already be overweight BUT WHO CARES

Also I may have gotten two more cookbooks at the thrift store today, but like, oh my god!!! Chinese and Thai cooking!!! I’ve been looking for nice cookbooks like that!!!

Anyways. Well. I’m kind of frustrated with my brother, I realized today, because bab, WHEN are you going to use that camping tent. When are you going to use the emergency kit. But hey!! If you want to see if it fits in the car tomorrow morning, be my guest. Good luck fitting all of this in the apartment.

He will get to learn SOON ENOUGH about how we don’t need Stuff Just In Case. Mom’s bf just said offhandedly that she would just buy and buy “just in case” and oh my god yes she did!!! That’s exactly what she did!! And then we had a discussion over dinner last night about how she basically treated a house as “this is how much stuff I need”, and would just. Fill everything and every nook and cranny up with Something.

It explains why, when accounting for both the consignment stuff and the trips to the thrift store, we have easily a full car of just clothes. Just clothes!! She has at least 20 NICE pairs of shoes that we’ll try to sell to a consignment store. She has another probably 30 pairs of shoes we took to the thrift store. It’s WILD.

I’m VERY very pleased with myself and very much looking forward to my brother having a revelation about how he shouldn’t emulate mom in how he accumulates things (even though I will admit that I set a bad example of “I’m taking all of the thread you don’t want” today because apparently I’m just the home for lost threads. But that’s all right. I did NOT take any notions except for a pair of pinking shears.). And now I need to put myself in the shower before I finish packing because here are more dirty clothes that I need to be sure fit in the suitcases!