#how many years would it take to pay that off

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: How they’d comfort you

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on how your future spouse would comfort you in moments of need. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel > Christmas Event [NEW]

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

Your future spouse would try and physically comfort you a bit. Think of starting to hold you on the couch and give you some hugs. They won’t be the best at doing these things, often being describes as socially awkward and clumsy by many, but they will be doing their best to physically be there for you.

The rest of their comfort will greatly consist of doing things for you, think about cooking a meal, making you some tea, warming you up and giving you things to warm you up. Your future spouse will also find ways to try and make you happy with gifts; think of buying you plushies or other things you enjoy. They might be a bit clumsy, but they will try with everything in their might and trick up their sleeve to cheer you up.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse would sit with you in silence. They wouldn’t be noisy and force you to tell things, they know that if you want to tell them what is going on, you would be the one starting the conversation. Sometimes what people need is to be in a comforting silence, something your future spouse is happy to give you. Whether you want distance from them or physical touch, they will be giving this to you, greatly relying on your body language as well as your vocality when it comes to what it is you need in the moment.

You will be comfortable sharing the things you need, even if you might not see yourself do so now. Your future spouse will allow you to open up over the years and you will find yourself in a place in which openly talking about wants and needs is a must as well as something natural.

Pile 3:

Your future spouse would try and make you laugh. Whether that is with making jokes or tickling you all over. They will try to calm you down, get within you personal space once you are comfortable and allow them, and slowly start making fun of the situation, making you realise that everything will be okay. They will be breaking that heavy tension in your mind by some silly remarks, making you laugh through your tears. They will then pay more attention to you specifically, allowing you to take your mind off of all your worries.

Once you seem to genuinely be okay, you will think back to what you were worrying about, but in that moment is when your future spouse will be there to vocally assist you through your worries, make it known as to why and how everything is okay and that you do not need to worry; helping you think of solutions when those are needed, as well as offering their assistance.

[cometconmain]

I have someone who comes to groom my dog because I physically can't keep up with it. He's extremely good at his job.

He also thinks Trump isn't all that bad a guy, the Democrats are the anti-human rights party, had no idea the Supreme Court was a thing/is controlled by Republicans and that's why so many human rights are being rolled back in America, refuses to actually use his privilege of having a preferential voting system to not have to vote for the two major shitty parties because he insists on believing nothing good has been done despite numerous proving points to the contrary in his own life let alone others' lives, thinks climate change is a hoax and can't wrap his head around why university studies need to be checked for a donor list and a fossil fuel company supported 'study' isn't reliable actually, hasn't even learned the most basic empathy concept of "you not suffering from a problem other people suffer from doesn't make that problem less important/you should care about people whose lives you don't experience", outright said with his full chest that maybe we should racially segregate the Olympics again actually, and a number of other toxic to downright rancid things I would have just written him off and slammed the door in his face for last year let alone a few years ago.

Don't get me wrong. Talking to him is fucking EXHAUSTING and I feel physically disgusting afterward having to just calmly listen to all these things he spouts which have historically resulted in entire groups of people being targeted for genocide and numerous other human rights abuses when left unchecked and allowed to fester at the societal level.

BUT HE LISTENS WHEN I CHALLENGE HIM.

I can see him actually seeing me as a human being worth listening to. He's older than me and definitely been down way too many right-wing rabbit holes for me to pull him onto the surface any time soon. But I'm giving him things to chew on and hopefully if we're lucky I've planted some seeds which will eventually grow into some semi decent human being plants one day. He's really ignorant and clearly under-educated and that itself isn't his fault and biting his head off isn't remotely going to make up for that gap and is only going to drive him further into the arms of whatever fucked up extremist conservative groups he's been listening to.

He is reachable. He's just also a very long project I only get to work on for an hour at a time every 6 weeks.

And some of the things I've said which I think were part of what got through to him involved showing empathy for him being a single father(? I may have mixed that up with someone else but I think he is) with a disabled kid. He shows empathy for disabled people because he's the father of one (and probably is neurodivergent himself I believe but unsupported and doing his best to give his son the support he didn't get from the sounds of it).

But yeah.

Listen: you don't have to take shit to the face if the person is solely malicious and trying to hurt you. No one is obligated to meet that with kindness and anyone saying otherwise can get fucked. There is a limit to how much bullshit someone can cop while the bullshitter acts like any emotional response to their bullshit is unreasonable/out of nowhere and that is valid on the part of the person copping the crap.

However, if you a) can handle coping long enough to break down those walls with unexpected kindness/it isn't dangerous for you to try that method (VERY IMPORTANT. PAY ATTENTION TO THOSE DETAILS. DON'T TRY THAT ON SOMEONE WHO IS ACTIVELY THREATENING/DANGEROUS TO YOU), or b) can tell it's soft bigotry/general ignorance driving the otherwise yuck things being said, do give the compassion and patient education route a try.

I've had numerous instances of me holding shitty ignorant beliefs I had no idea were actually harmful. The people biting my head off didn't get to me. The people who took the time to see I was just ignorant and under-educated on the matter (and hadn't yet developed the empathy for a group I didn't belong to) taking me aside and patiently dealing with my idiocy long enough to explain things to me in a way that got through my skull (and eventually into my heart as well) were the ones who fundamentally improved me as a person. I still have plenty of things I always have to work on. But I can tell you now I would be much MUCH worse without those patient, kind, educational interventions by people who could tell the difference between malice and ignorance.

The same applies to everyone else.

Human beings are human beings. All of us. Re-humanising each other is the last thing any of the politicians and extremist groups want us to do BECAUSE IT WORKS. IT BREAKS THE WARPED MODEL OF THE WORLD THEY PORTRAY AS REALITY TO DIVIDE US AND KEEP US ALL AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS INSTEAD OF CUTTING OFF THE FOOD SOURCE FOR THEIR WEEDS AT THE ROOT.

When we remind a hurting person that we are a person too, not the bogeyman the extremist groups paint us as, it shakes their warped worldview to the core. It makes them think. It makes them QUESTION. It makes them look at the flower the 'evil' Pride-pin wearer gave them because no one gave them flowers when their mother died and their hate begins to crack at the seams.

The things the world teaches men hurts men too. Teaching them they DON'T have to subscribe to that mentality all the way down to the roots of the patriarchy weed is the best and most effective way of cutting that mentality off at the source. Even if you struggle to empathise with men because you've been hurt; ok, valid. But it is demonstrably more effective, sustainable and long term changing to just get rid of all of it by addressing their pain and showing them how much healthier and happier they can be just in their own life let alone others' lives by casting off the system that hurts them too.

I'm pretty sure I'm just rehashing the same points here, sorry, but the concept of deradicalisation as a healing and long term change tool has been my social justice special interest this year so talking it out helps it solidify in my own head too. (And gives me strength to deal with bullshit because it reminds me it's worth copping what I can personally handle in order to get someone to think, change and grow, one exhausting person at a time).

part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) “these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won’t MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!” and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term “real men” is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women’s pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners’ pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don’t get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that “well, I don’t believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it’s okay!”

basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it’s equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can’t just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.

[rebelssvy]

holiday hero party ✧.*

kirishima x reader

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: you meet red riot at a party, a lot of flirting, some back story monologue. bakugo and kaminari come make fun of him. you save him.

i love thinking about flirty but also himbo-ish kiri.. he’s just trying his best ♡︎♡︎

every year the hero association would hold a party for the top hero’s in each country. this year it being held in france. in your country your country you were celebrated, thought of highly. you gained the name ‘queen’ by some of your fans. choosing to be humble, you would laugh off whenever your nickname came up.

so here you were, finishing up your look. wearing a dangerous long dress that paired your skin tone well. pairing it with lots of jewelry. you looked stunning.

arriving at the party, you recognized many people. it was going to be a long night.

it was an hour into the party, feeling utterly exhausted. saying far too many ‘hello’s and ‘thanks you’s for your own good.

some what overwhelmed you made your way over to the bar you stoped dead in your tracks when you ran into a solid wall. looking up you realized it wasn’t a wall but a man..

“oh my gosh i’m so sorry!” you blurted out stumbling backwards to create space.

“no worries pretty girl..” he said staring down at you, charming smile printed on his face. looking up you came to realize it was red riot. you read the events that happened to his class in highschool and always kept track of him since. recently you saw that he saved a pregnant woman from several bullets just by standing infront of her.

you stared at him not knowing what to say. starting to feel vulnerable under the weight of his eyes, you chose to stand tall. remembering who you were you gained some confidence in yourself.

“red riot..right?” you asked him tilting your head his way. you watched as he wore a shocked expression for a minute before a smile replaced his face once again.

“the queen knows of me? i must be blessed!” he laughed out. you cringed at his words. you didn’t like that he thought of you like that, let alone that he also knew who you were.

instantly picking up on your change in demeanor he saved your conversation, “oh you don’t like your little nick name?” he chuckled out, fixing his posture slightly.

“no no i don’t mind it, it’s just i see you as my equal… not like my fan..” you giggled, suddenly feeling very hot.

“let me buy you a drink.” he said before taking your hand and leading you to the bar. you gasped at how charming he was. you felt like you were running behind him as he lead you with large strides.

as you sat down at the bar with him, you took a moment to take him in. staring at his body that was clothed in an all black tux, black dress shoes. if you looked closely there was red accents all across him. very minimal.

he caught your attention with his words “i am a fan by the way.” he said while turning to face you. his confidence shook you slightly.

“is that right?” you questioned him further.

“i saw you on the news in highschool… when you saved that bridge from falling.. is it true you did that while walking home from school? if it is i admire you for being so strong seriously!” he commended you with flushed cheeks. his eyes telling the story that you lived.

you took a second to respond to him, sipping on the drink he payed for. “well yea i guess.. i was walking home from school and someone had a quirk awakening on the bridge. i heard the explosion before i saw one of the beams coming down. i just kinda thought that if i had the power to save them, that’s what i should do..” you realized you rambled to far on and then grew shy waiting for his response.

when you looked back at him you realized that he seriously wasn’t joking about admiring you.

“that’s so fucking cool.” he said before changing his focus to the drink infront of him. as he sipped it you watched his adam’s apple move in his throat. slowly your eyes wandered to all of him.

you decided to make a remark, hoping to see where you actually stood with him. “ok this is going to sounds crazy…” you started. “around the time that i gained some traction from my acts, i saw you on the news.. when your class had all those things happen. i’ve always kept an eye on you since…” you finished.

the look on his face was priceless, shock and disbelief that slowly morphed into curiosity. questioning you he said “you’ve been keeping track on me?”

“i would be lying if i said no.” your drink making its way into your system, surging some needed confidence and energy into you.

“must be my lucky night.” he paused before saying “prettiest girl in the room keeps tabs on me..” before he took his drink into his mouth, eyes never leaving you.

you gasped at his words, suddenly you felt light.

“are you flirting with me?” you asked him with a giggle.

“yes. i am.” he said comfortably, stating his truth. “or at least im trying. im not very good at it.” giggling with you.

“well whatever your doing i think its working” you said reaching for your drink once again. only to realize it was emptied out. frowning slightly at without realizing.

“here,” he signaled over the bartender and ordered you a second drink. also getting you a water. his charisma was overwhelming.

“thank you.” you mumbled out before sipping on your drink again.

the silence over took you once again. you realized how easy it was to talk to him. you really liked him being around you. almost too much, a concerning amount.

“what can i call you? if i can’t call you queen?” he said leaning over to you, you felt the tension change slightly.

“just call me y/n.” you stated.

“how about princess?” he asked softly, lowering himself to your ear. you couldn’t form words. stuttering to a reply, you said.

“you can call me whatever you want.” you said, weakly. soon after your response you started cringing at yourself. bringing yourself to a giggle yet again.

“i’m sorry i can’t take myself seriously!” you laughed out, he laughed with you. “what should i call you red riot?” you asked him.

“just call me ejirou.” he said leaning back in his chair, you noticed his legs fall apart slightly.

you jumped in place when a loud voice boomed behind you.

“kirishima my guy! holy shit no way.” you turned to find a yellow haired man paired with the more popular pro hero dynamight. they closed in on the two of you. making their way to stand behind the two of you. you turned in your chair.

you noticed kirishimas face, it was full of agony.

“this is fucking halarious” the explosive one said. you knew his name was bakugou. but to be honest you were too afraid to call him by his name.

“what’s so funny?” you asked the two standing next to you.

“kirishima here has had a crush on you since highschool. so it’s kinda hard to think your sitting here with him at a holiday party.” the yellow haired once laughed out.

kirishima flushed at their remarks. you noticed all of it. they were obviously close to eachother.

“the queen and red riot, a dream come true.” bakugou laughed out. taunting his friend.

“this is so embarrassing.” kirishima shrugged into his hands.

coming to his rescue you said “well.. funny enough as it is. ive been harboring a crush on red riot for a while.” you shrugged nonchalantly.

bakugou and yellow hairs face dropped into shock. kirishima along with them.

“i’m not trying to be rude but me and ejirou were just about to leave.” you stood up and grabbed his hand. urging him in silence to follow your lead.

“it was nice to meet you two.” you said calmly before dragging him away from the men and to the exit.

after a silent trip to the coat rack and out the door. you finally made your way outside. the cold air frosting over you.

“you really are my hero, princess.” he said from behind you, you turned to meet his eyes.

“it’s no problem. and i meant what i said so.” you watched the air get sucked out of his lungs. taking in his expression, he really was handsome.

“can i take you out sometime princess? like without my friends coming to embarrass me, just me and you.” he smiled softly, praying you would say yes.

years ago this was your dream. funny how things work out like this.

“yes i would like that a lot, ejirou.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

thinking about making a part two when you hard launch, maybe even starting a family. the worlds favorite hero family ♡︎♡︎

[jittersbitters]

The Long Game pt.2 [Cautious]

{Viktor from Arcane Smut Story}

Warnings: smut, light dom!vik, jealousy, fingering, oral (female receiving), more exhibitionism, AFAB reader, Arcane + IRL accurate Politics, it a bit long, mentions of praise, choking kink if you REAAALLY squint, Salo being an asshole

Word count: 7.7K (40-60min read time)

Story plot: A holistic healer from NW Shurima works privately for Councilmen Hoskel as a sort of assistant. Viktor and her meet years before the events of Arcane and have an up-down relationship that takes shape over the course of many years. Starting all the way back in their academy years, first knowing each other as respective transcribers for their council mentor/patrons during meetings. Maybe they should have stayed in that room?

Chapter Summary: After a turbulent meeting with your boss you are forced to go to a holiday celebration at the Kirammen's. Having low, boring expectations for your night till Viktor's unexpected presence crashes you're suffocating political agenda and that of the aristocrats around you. Just when tension mounts and uncertainties seem to linger, a heated moment on a balcony has the academy assistant pulling you into the garden for a new level of risk.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | • Viktor Masterlist •

Authors Note: Sorry for taking longer than I said to get this out. I passed out writing and went to the hospital for dehydration and other chronic issues I aggravated over this last semester. I'm fine now and got released for Yule/Christmas day. It's not technically a holiday fic but it has the elements for it. It long again but I had nother else todo in the hospital and I couldn't post with their shitty internet.

MDNI NSFW below cut (Farther below)

“Councilman?” I knocked on the door, popping my head in with a quick look around the room. Large imported furniture and crystal edged windows that made light flit across the room — why couldn’t these windows be in the rest of the house again? “I finished rewriting the notes from the last meeting.”  

“Hmm.” He waved me in with a boney hand, glancing up just quick enough from his mess of papers to check if I shut the door behind me. I eyed him as I came to stand in front of his desk; the tension in his brow deepening as he squinted at his notes, his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed his eyes. I noted the number of lines he had struck out, effectively rendering that page useless. His eyesight was starting to go; I’d have to add it to the list of ailments to tend to— or attempt to.  

I threw a crumpled piece of paper that had rolled away into the trash can, offering him a soft smile. “Don’t worry about organizing the trade deals. My father had me handling his for years, so I’m certain I can craft somethi—”  

“Craft?” His laugh was coarse, filled with a familiar malic. He regarded my business acumen as little more than a joke in comparison to what my healing skills could do. “You genuinely believe I would allow you to draft such important documents? With that pitiful excuse for business jargon you just spat, I’m questioning whether I should even let you deliver them!” I visibly flinched as his snotty, blended gravel of a laugh filled my ears and making my stomach turn inside out.  

I flinched at the weight in his sardonic laughter, a sound both grating and belittling that echoed in my ears, squeezing my insides. How could I have allowed my empathy to blind me, even momentarily, to the repugnant shell-like cockroach of a man he truly was?  

Sadly... he had financed my journey here, provided a roof over my head in Piltover—a debt I could not easily shaken off without my parent’s coin purse. My parents wouldn’t risk their own money; paying Hoskel back might ‘demotivate’ me and endanger our diplomatic efforts.  

Their words, not mine. 

Unable to quit but him equally unable to fire me, I expressed my displeasure by slamming the notes onto his desk with a glare. He raised his arms like I had attempted to hit him, face mixing with disbelief and anger as he watched me take long strides out of the room. “You belligerent—!”  

I slammed the door behind me, hands clawing at the neckline of my dress, feeling the fabric constrict like the atmosphere in this suffocating place. I had to remind myself to breathe. 

~~<3~~ 

The Kirammen house looked gorgeous in the light of the setting sun. The building’s blue and off-white colors blended beautifully with the setting sun. A breeze gently swaying the bare trees tops and fluttering the ladies' dresses. I pulled my fur shawl tighter around my shoulders, feeling a shiver creep down my spine. My dress cut far to low for this weather, material cold against my skin as it shimmered in the dying light. It was not built for winter; I was not built for winter. 

“Cassandra is eager to see you tonight,” Hoskel said, gently rubbing my hand as he linked our arms to lead me through the doors to escape the evenings chill. 

We were attending yet another gathering for Piltover’s social class; a stuffy event just for indulging in the exotic food and drink from their stores. Loose lips made for the best business deals. Unfortunate for me, Hoskel had brought me as an accessory, an attraction he intended to parade around to facilitate prospective deals. The conversations typically stretched on forever, dull and monotonous Noxus in summer seemed better, frankly.  

 “May I?”  A servant helped me slip out of my fur before disappearing to hang. The house was grand on its own, though I still couldn’t help but admire the evening’s decor—pearl chains and satin draped with velvet bows hanging beautifully throughout the space. Evergreen garland and red berries stung with gold thread. The flickering glow from the countless candles pulled me into the warmth of its ambiance, nearly distracting me from the pair of molten eyes observing me from across the room.    

There is no way... 

My reaction upon spotting Viktor wasn’t subtle, but I made no effort to disguise it. A complex smile tugged at my lips, my heart fluttering in my chest. Viktor had never graced any of these gatherings before, and Heimerdinger was only slightly more inclined to socialize, once every couple of months. For both to attend... 

Viktor was up to something... 

He looked good, too. Suspiciously good.  

But I wasn’t complaining... 

Leaning casually into his cane as he stood with a group of fellow academics alongside Heimerdinger. He had traded his Academy uniform for a sharp wine-red shirt and a fitted black dress jacket. He had preened; it was obvious. From the shine of his shoes and the polished metal of his cane.  

A wave of embarrassment rushed through me as I watched his thumbs absent-mindedly stroke the handle, remembering. I haven’t been able to get the feeling, the ghost of his fingers, out of my mind the last couple of days. I had to catch myself from ‘slipping up’, letting my mind wander to far during the day. Then at night it seemed to be the opposite, unable to finish what he started as my body wasn’t satisfied by my own hand.  

The gold cord of my dress suddenly felt heavier against my neck as he caught where my stare lingered. Rolling his lips to suppress a smile as he gave me a small bounce of his brow, seemingly pleased as he looked at my appearance. 

I had never cared about anyone's approval, but his made my cheeks warm with shyness.      

“My lovely sage,” Cassandra Kiramman glided over, her arms open wide. Her dress was perfectly tailored to match the evening’s decor, resembling a pearl on a silver necklace. Her welcoming hug pulled me away from my distraction in the form of a brunette scientist. “Piltover seems to be treating you well!”    

“My sage, Councilwoman,” Hoskel interjected quickly, watching our embrace with a scowl as his opposing chairwoman shot him a reproachful glare over my shoulder.    

“Calm down, Tormund,” Tobias slid between us as his wife released me, much to Hoskel’s annoyance. “Your sour demeanor might just chase her away.” He wrapped an arm around me briefly, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Just let us know if he becomes too much. Our patron from midtown is always keen to discuss sun-stones.”    

“While he can be a bit blunt, Hoskel has been quite the gracious host these last few months,” I replied, glancing at Hoskel to let him know my words were meant for him as much as for the Kirammans.    

“How... unusual for him,” Cassandra eye the short man, clearly aware of Hoskel’s nature, before masking her suspicion with a smile. “You must join us for tea sometime; Caitlyn has been eager to showcase her marksmanship achievements,” She squeezed my arm before linking with Tobias.    

Tobias shot Hoskel a pointed look. “Give the girl a break, councilman. From what I heard about the last meeting, she certainly deserves it.” He turned to me, smiling warmly. “Always a pleasure, dear. Do make time for a visit.”    

Hoskel grumbled subtly under his breath as we watched them slip into the crowd of arriving guests. He grasped my arm tightly, drawing my attention to him. “Don’t wander off,” he warned, almost threatened. I watched him walk away, scoffing as he went straight for shady merchants and traders. Never a man to change.  

Seeing an opening in my night, I turned back to where Viktor once was and found nothing. He had seemingly vanished form thin air, leaving behind a conversation that reflected the same. I tried to move through the crow, looking around for him in the sea of bodies. My irritation starting to bristle the longer I looked, severely needing a drink.  

“Excuse me.” I tried to call for a server, huffing when a group to monopolize his tray. I turned for another one, following after another server as tried to wave for his attention without attracting everyone's around me. They only seemed to turn their back from me, “May I—” 

“Two glasses.” That familiar drawl cut in beside me. My blush from before coming back to my cheeks as Viktor stood there, hand coming up to gently brushing my up my back as he leaned closer. Body carefully hovering around mine as his other arm reached around to take the glasses from the server’s tray. “Thank you.”  

“Viktor.” I breathed, finding my words trying to hide in my throat as my heart jumped up to meet them. I took my drink from him, holding it awkwardly in both hands so I wouldn’t drop it “I —I didn’t expect to see you here.”   

“Mm. Was not my original plan for my night.” His smile warmed me from the inside out even as his fingers brushed the collum of my spin softly, curling to first graze his knuckles before splaying to take up as much space as possible. He was bolder, I had given him an inch and he was determined to take a mile.  

“That make’s two of us.” I spoke into my drink, trying to hide in my drink as his fingers made the muscles of my back shutter underneath them.  

“Are you not enjoying?” he asked, and I could sense a hint of hope hiding beneath his casual words. I hesitated, noticing his untamed eagerness running wild in his eyes as he watched my expression for any advantage.  

“...I’m mostly here out of obligation.” I confided, glancing at Hoskel smoozing. I sucked my teeth before turning into victor more, any reservations I had about ‘wander’ vanishing as I felt peeved by him- still sour with our earlier fight. “I’d rather be bundling or reading, but I won’t turn down the free food and drinks... or company” I took a sip from my glass, reveling in the sweet taste.     

He hummed, smiling into his own as he took a swallow to find his words. “We are... much alike, it seems.” He whispered into the edge of his glass before taking another quick drink.  

“Are you here just for the food?” I teased, pressing farther as I saw my own advantage. 

 “Perhaps,” he mused, before adding with a hushed tone, “perhaps not.” a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth as he spoke low in my ear like we were sharing a secret. I suppose we were, but he didn’t have to make it so obvious. “I can’t say my presence here is entirely selfless.” I returned to my drink, finding it nearly empty and my mouth still parched, as his eyes bore into mine. Conveying a multitude of thoughts and intentions that were unspeakable, less they be heard by unwanted ears.     

“You're quite the uncautious man.” I licked my lips as I swaying slightly. I turned to watch the room instead as I faltered under his gaze, his alone like a thousand pairs observing every little twitch my lips made and breath I took.  

The atmosphere thickened as the night wore on, guests gravitating toward the food table we stood in front of as new arrivals flowed in. With the added closeness, he was forced to move closer. His eyes traced a path along my neck and shoulder, tracing the cording wrapping my neck and the hang of my spiral earrings dangling from my lobe, watching how it brushed my shoulder every time I took a deeper breath.  

“In.” His thumb started to stroke between my shoulder blades as his breath fanned the side of my face, voice a low thrum in my ear. 

My breath hitched as I felt myself gravitate toward him, eyeing him from the corners of my vision. My heart starting to make its nervous ascent up my throat again. “What?” 

“It’s incautious.” His corrected with a self-satisfied smile, delighting in my surprise as his hand shifted up to thumb at the cord wrapping around my neck to hold up the front of my dress. He played with it, running the finger along the stack, his hand resting at the base of my neck. Holding me gently as he guided me away from the increasingly crowded table, deliberately closing any lingering distance between us as our sides came together. “How do you say…” We were so close he only needed to murmur, “The student becomes the master.”  

A rush of heat coursed through me, breath hitching in my throat. The cord around my neck felt suddenly too tight, and I weakly pulled with it in search of relief. 

His thumb slid under the cords in response, relieving some of the pressure from the back. Simultaneously, pulling them into my throat, the contrast made my insides twist and flutter. Did he know just what he was doing? 

“Viktor—" 

“Ah! Just the woman I was looking for.” I stood there, mired in thoughts about Viktor’s intentions when Salo’s honeyed voice cut through the ambient chatter of the party. “The talented apothecary Hoskel insists on keeping all to himself!” the councilman approached with a mockingly congenial smile. Even his simplest words felt more like insults, his eyes glinting with condescension. “You’re making quite a name for yourself in my assistant's circles. Even Medarda’s girl is asking about you. Well done.”    

I had to blink before I was able to force a polite smile, despite the flutter in my stomach quickly turning to annoyance. “Thank you, Councilman Salo. I do my best to serve who I can in need.” I felt Viktor’s irritation souring the air already as he glowered at Salo, hand not curling against my back now starting to grip his cane tighter. 

“Hmph, then perhaps this is the perfect moment to discuss your relationship with the council.” He slinked closer, cutting into my previous conversation with Viktor and trying to steal my attention like a vulture. “With your... herbal remedies, you could become a valuable asset.” His voice dripped with feigned admiration, his gaze flickering toward Viktor as if urging him to leave us.   

Before I could respond, Salo’s hand settled at the base of my back, where my dress hung low with loose fabric. My heart raced with discomfort. I instinctively arched away, only to feel his hand follow. Each brush of his fingers intensified my urge to disappear into the ornate wallpaper. Salo had the kind of connections that could shift the city’s dynamics, while I was merely a healer in Hoskel’s service. This position left me with little choice; despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to move away, I held still.    

Salo had never been this friendly with me, but he had a reputation for being opportunistic. I wondered how long it would take for the rumors of Hoskel’s deteriorating health to reach his ears, validating the others about Salo eyeing his resources for a takeover, and I guess that included me.  

Viktor stood a few paces behind me, tension radiating from him as he sized up the situation. I hoped he would let me handle this on my own; any bad reaction to Salo could jeopardize my reputation, and by extension my patron’s. Our fragile partnership wouldn’t survive a public argument with his biggest rival.     

“Think about how much the council could benefit from your knowledge, especially with a favorable recommendation regarding your parents—” Salo continued, oblivious to my discomfort. He began to guide me away from Viktor, toward his group of colleagues and traders to talk with. Hand incessantly pressing into the small of my back, uncaring. “—you could assist with—”     

Viktor stepped forward to stop us, his expression rigid as he glanced between us. “I believe the lady is busy, Councilman,” 

He just had to say something. My knight in shining fucking armor. It would be endearingly cute, if it wasn’t ill timed. 

“Oh! Heimerdinger’s undercity assistant!” Salo face flickered as turned to Viktor, a sourness to his tone even as he tried to hide it.” I did not expect either of you here. So many interesting personalities in attendance it seems.” 

I tried not to scoff at the unabashed classism; the Piltover-Zaun political climate was not lost on the surrounding Shumira cities, and it seemed to be as much of a game to Salo as my discomfort was. “Councilmen Salo, I think—” 

“Not that I’d expect you to see potential—beyond just scrap metal,” Salo interrupted, talking over me because I suddenly didn’t matter now that his authority was being challenged. Ugh, men.” you must see something of use, of course. Why else would you concern yourself?” The audacity of him, fixing his gaze on Viktor’s cane and his injured leg, as if he relished the chance to undermine him further. I could see Viktor's jaw clench, his eyes momentarily darting away, a subtle but telling sign that the jabs, however veiled, had hit their mark. “Just think about what she could bring to the council—her help with medicinal initiatives and valuable insights.”    

I leaned away from Salo with shooting brows, my tone slightly raised in shock and indignation. I wanted connections, not backhanded compliments at the expense of others. “Councilmen, that is not— 

Viktor’s hand found its way to my back, and my hiccup, combined with the warmth of his touch between my shoulder blades, caused me to stumble over my words. “The lady has other commitments,” he declared, pointing a challenging gaze at Salo that warned him to back off. His fingers firmly gasping at my skin, attempting to press me closer to him, each movement revealing the simmering anger beneath his composed exterior. Despite my embarrassment at my back became their battle ground, I couldn't help but appreciate Viktor’s defense. “It would be rude to keep her from them, don’t you think?” 

Frustration flickered in his eyes; he was losing. “Relax, we’re just having a friendly conversation,” Salo tried to hum, his condescension clear — he was used to charm working in his favor. “Isn’t that right, my dear?” He turned to look at me, pressing his fingers into my lower back, copying Viktor but he was daring me to disagree.    

Oh, now they were letting me talk? How kind.  

Swallowing hard, I bit back venom and fear, and I forced a tight smile. “Quite... However,” I struggled to keep my voice steady with the unease in my stomach, “I really should get back to my rounds.” I shifted into Viktor as his glare burned through the air around is, boiling as Salo’s smile returned, trying to grab at the last bit of dominance I just threw him. It all left a bitter taste in my mouth I wasn’t going to be rid of anytime soon.   

“I’ll escort you,” Viktor shut down any farther attempts from Salo, tugging me to his side. The blond scoffed, realizing he had lost and bowing out gracefully. Finally withdrawing his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, Councilman,” Viktor lowered his head mockingly, I copied clumsily, before guiding me with a little push, leaving no room for protest.    

“An interesting evening ahead, isn’t it?” Salo called, dripping irritation as he stepped back, the amusement fading from his face as he watched our hasty exit.    

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My heart no longer strangling itself in my throat. “Thank you—”    

“Come,” Viktor hissed into my ear, voice low. He continues to slide his hand down, leading me through the crowd, absorbed in his own churning thoughts and seemingly oblivious to how we appeared to others. He halted at the dip; jealousy evident. He allowed himself to cast one last glare over his shoulder as he let out a quiet tsk, thinking I wouldn’t catch him. But I did.  

I caught the way his fingers slid across the collum of my spine while holding open the garden’s balcony door. I noticed how he was taking up the same spot where Salo’s hand lingered; however, unlike tentative touch Viktor greeted me with before, this was unmistakably more aggressive.    

Once outside, the crisp night air enveloped us, washing away the stuffiness of the gathering and the tension from the exchange. It allowed my chest to finally expand fully, allowing me to feel lighter as I found my way to the balcony’s edge. The moon bathed the carefully manicured hedges in a silvery glow, and the intoxicating scent of blooming jasmine drifted around us.  The cool night sent a grounding shiver through my body, helping to steady my rapid heartbeat.  

I felt his hand brush over my shoulders as he followed to stand next to me. “Are you —” 

“You can’t bait Salo like that,” I interrupted this time as pushing his hand away and turning back toward him. Rationality flooding back, hindsight being unfairly 20/20. Seeing the damage we could have caused to my future here. I took a calming breath to stead any hostility that leaked into my voice; I wasn’t angry, I was scared. “Your words were sharp—almost reckless. Don’t you care how it reflects on me—or even Heimerdinger?”   

“Reckless,” He scoffed, not getting my point. “Heimerdinger will survive.” I tsked at his answer, looking away as his expression soured at the sound. There was something so genuine that hurt. “You think I should just smile and nod like a simple courtier? I refuse to compromise my integrity!”  

“’A simple courtier’?” My head felt like a swivel as it snapped back to him, gawking at him for a moment. Hurt sinking as his last word struck a chord.  

He’s too stubborn, but perhaps he had a half a point.  

“I am not... I — “My tongue feeling heavy as forced myself to speak freely to, basically, a stranger. “Salo is... a pompous, self-serving ass. I know he is, Viktor, but integrity holds little value in politics. I can’t screw anything up here. ”   

He hesitated, his voice becoming a weird combination of biting and soft. “His actions were unnecessary. I was merely pushing back.” There it was—a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. Was it jealousy?    

I stepped closer, my own curiosity peaked. 

“What do you mean by ‘pushing back’?” I watched his reactions as I talked, looking for something else. Though, I still had to lecture him, just gentler than I originally intended. “If Salo interprets your comments as an insult, it could backfire on me.” I glided around the balcony, staying with the railing, so there was at least some distance between us even as I stayed in his orbit. “Hoskel could fire me and then...” I shrugged, giving him a coy stare. 

A flicker of regret softened the fierce look in Viktor's eyes. “It’s hard to watch,” he confessed, “After the meeting, I—”, before hesitating, “You’re so familiar with him.”     

“Being familiar with him is part of my job, Viktor.” My heart raced, fighting to maintain composure as I caught his backtracking. Feeling excitement as I played with him for once. “This city isn’t just made from science and formulas; it’s built by perceptions. Salo has the power to manipulate those perceptions. This attitude could lead to...”    

“Don’t you think I understand that?” he snapped, the frustration growing in his tone amplifying something lighter, more vulnerable. “You’re worried about my attitude? What about Salo’s? His hand on your back tonight was completely inappropriate!” 

“So that’s what this is about? You think I don’t know how to handle myself?” The way his eye twitched made me refute the idea before he was able to respond. I could see why he liked watching my reactions, it was like a puzzle and his was growing interesting by the second. “No. You’re reacting this way because you don’t like how he treats me. Specifically.”  

And I was going to crack it. 

“Thats not...” Viktor looked away to find compose; frustration and compunction evident in the way his jaw clenched, staring out into the garden. A breath rattling his bottle, shoulders heaving before he stepped toward me, feeling safe. “His motives seemed questionable; caution... would be best.”    

“Caution?” I challenged, taking the moment as an opportunity to press. With what felt like glee, I tilted my head. Being coy again.  “That’s rich coming from you.” 

 He scoffed, “What does that mean—”   

“Hand on my thigh,” I shot, pushing from the railing to enclosed on him again feeling emboldened as I watched him instinctively backed up. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I watched one start to tinge his own. “Whispering in my ear to just pay attention,” I jabbed an accusing finger into his chest, feeling the heat radiate between us. “Fingers traveling farther and farther up. Persisting. Inappropriate.”    

“That was different!” He seized my elbow, yanking me toe to toe with him as a burning intensity sent a thrill up through me. “Both of us are at fault for what happened.”   

“Fault?” I scoffed; my voice laced with mock hurt even as a bit of truth seeped in. “You... You're the one who fingered me in the middle of a council session!”    

His gaze narrowed as warmth flushed fully consumed his cheeks, a spark of defiance igniting in him at my exclamation. He started to back me up, countering my attempt to corner him to the window with his own. “Did you not enjoy it...”    

“Excuse me?” I tried to retreat, only to feel my escape blocked by the railing I once sought comfort in, his body soon to follow as he boxed me in.   

“Did you not,” his head dipped as his hand came to rest against the edge of the stone as he left his cane next to us, “enjoy my fingers buried inside you?” His gaze bore into mine with an intensity that crackled the air between us with an intoxicating mix of confrontation and undeniable attraction.   

I couldn’t breathe. 

“Viktor —”   

Viktor leaned in closer, his voice playful yet laced with an intensity that sent a thrill through me. "Did. You. Enjoy. It?" His breath fanning down the side of my face and neck again. This time without the stale air of the party I could smell the carbonated alcohol on his breath mixed with the spice of something with anise. "I won't repeat myself again."   

I didn’t hesitate with this chose — "Yes.”   

In that moment, his lips crashed against mine with a fervor that transcended the heated words we’d exchanged. The kiss ignited the air around us and I melted against him, my resolve crumbling like fragile parchment before a roaring flame, consuming heat radiated from his every action.    

His hands started at my waist, burning me as his teeth found my lower lip and pulling it hard with desperation. A shameless, startled moan jumping from the back of my throat allowing his tongue to muffle it a second later. I used a tight grip to ground myself, hands sliding from his shoulders to curl into his hair as I gave back everything he gifted. Longing and frustration, a bitter-sweet concoction, two vastly different worlds colliding in a moment that felt dangerously exhilarating. I felt every nerve in my body awaken as his lips smothered mine and vice versa, adding gasoline to a fire that was smoldering inside us.    

I felt out chopped breath mingling, dulling my senses and drowning out the rational voice that warned of the trouble this could cause if someone looked out the window. One of his hands began to move to find the familiar skin of my thigh. Grabbing it with a hapless want, pulling it closer to his. Bending me slightly as he pushed in for more, teeth bumping as he took everything he could. I couldn’t bring myself to protest, reveling in the warmth of his body that seem to encircle me, protecting from the chill of a dry winter beyond this intimate cocoon we had created.   

We didn’t pull away so much as me having to push him back, breathless and dazed. My fingers playing with whatever they could grab, one still in his hair and the other fiddling with his shirt collar. I could feel the weight of our argument dissipating still, leaving behind the lingering ache of unfulfilled desires. My heart raced in my ears to the same beat as the party just a couple yards away behind a glass door. A thill matching the swell of my lips and the pressure of his fingers, it was dizzying already.   

Did he feel it too...?  

My questioned seemed to be readable on my face as he answered with another kiss, insatiable but sweet this time. A hand jumping to hold my face as he tilted my head perfectly into his. His hand bigger them my check as his fingers found part of my hair to smooth other my ear. He drank in every small sound I couldn’t hide, the hand on my thigh starting to push up the split of my skit. Tracing and thumbing the reflective material, teasing it higher and higher.   

His kiss was a sweet as candy, but his actions mimicked the liquor of our drinks. I was ready to risk being caught if it meant I could satisfy the slowly droning thrum starting in my belly.   

“Where is that damn healer!” The shrill, angered voice of my patron broke us away from each other. Viktor and I broke apart to watch Hoskel pass by the window looking for me, both of us stiffening as we waited for him to find us. Luckily, he didn’t, continuing on through the room grumbling something muffled by the door.   

I let out a small laugh that seemed to infect him, our heads still spinning. “I should... I should go see what he wants before someone comes out here looking,” I hummed, reluctantly pulled away from Viktor, giving a soft push to his shoulder to urge him to let go of my leg.   

Though when I moved around him, I found I was unable to leave as he stops me with a hand on my wrist. Demanding grip giving away his desperation even as he masked it with gentle words. “What if you didn’t?”  

I turned my head confused, “But —”  

“What is the worst that could happen?” He pulled me closer again even as he started to step away from the balcony himself. A plan brewing in his eyes.  

“I can’t just leave him,” I pointed out, only receiving an amused smile. “I thought we agreed to be careful —”  

Viktor’s smile widened, “Careful? Where's the fun in that?” He leaned a fraction closer, his breath tickling my ear as he chuckled. The sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket, making me blind with those fuzzy feelings again. “Sometimes it’s those reckless decisions that lead to the most interesting outcomes.” His eyes sparkled, his head bobbing toward the garden behind us, his meaning clear now.  

I bite my lip as I weighed the outcomes of my next words. “Interesting, or hazardous?” I countered, raising an eyebrow, to bide time. 

“Is there a difference?” He tilted his head slightly, regarding me with a playful seriousness that made my heart race. “You can’t deny that the thrill entices you, as much as it does me.”   

“Enticing, yes. Dangerous? Also, yes.”   

He started tugging me toward the garden regardless, slowly stepping toward the stairs with on hand dragging me and the other remembering his cane. “I’d hate to think you’d shy away from a little excitement.”   

“Excitement?” I felt my reservations fall away as I let myself be dragged. The smile on my lips undeniable, the butterflies in my stomach unfamiliar. With one last look back at the party inside, I willingly started to follow Viktor. “Well, I suppose I could manage a little.” 

I couldn’t suppress my excitement as we hurried down the steps, careful not to trip. Of course, we stumbled on a raised stone, eliciting a giggle from me and a soft chuckle from him as he pulled me closer. We continued down the vine-covered stairs until we reached a spot where the wall sheltered us from view. My back pressed against the twisting flora with grass tickling my angles. His hands resting just shy of the opening at the back of my dress, while smiling up at the windows we had hidden from and then down at me. The tension from the balcony lingered, more electrified now that we had stolen this private moment at the risk of our jobs.   

This time, I was ready as Viktor edged closer, maneuvering one of his feet to settle between mine, pushing me firmly against the wall. We melded into the blooming flowers that surrounded us, his nose brushing against mine. Our smiles mirrored each other as our faces inched closer together. He allowed my hands to trace his jaw before his lips brushed mine again. 

This kiss began slower than the ones before, with passion rekindling as he immediately claimed my lips. He wasted no time, yet relished each moment. Sparks crackled between us as his hands roamed the curve of my back and I pulled at his hair again.  

Stealing my breath again, leaving my brain short on oxygen, his lips began to greedily descended to the line of my jaw, trailing to the exposed skin of my throat. Dragging across the taught muscles while the delicate cord restrained him from getting every inch. His hands toyed with the excess fabric cascading down my back, as if contemplating whether to give it a tug for more access.  

I was taken aback by the whimper that slipped from my lips when he chose not to, instead contenting himself with what skin he could suck of my shoulders. He took everything he desired, leaving me breathless while one of his hands curved along my back, drawing me closer to him as the other hand roamed down my dress. He gathered the skirts, his fingers tactfully gliding against my thigh until they reached the juncture of my hip and waist. His head rested against my collarbone, the heavy desire making us drown in each other. His eyes were focused on the way his hands twisted the shimmering fabric as his breath fanned across my chest which rose and fell with anticipation.  

“Viktor,” my voice escaped as a gasp while I clutched his back, feeling my legs twitch as his hands drifted away from the fabric of my dress to my laced folds. He pressed and caressed with a teasing touch, elevating his mouth again to mine to drink my pants. He didn’t take his time like before; there was no slow buildup or gentle movements. He was desperate, and with no one to witness us, he could be as hap-hazardous as he pleased.  

His name slipped from my lips in the form of a soft moan as he pushed into me. My hair began to tangle in the vines, head going back, as he immediately pumping his fingers, starting slowly and gradually picking up to a steady pace. 

 He curled and swiped his fingers with precision, just like he had in the meeting. He instinctively knew when and where to apply pressure—a quick learner. His grin brushing my lips as eyes flickered between mine and my open mouth. I found it difficult to close, each breath becoming more labored as he whispered soothing words into my ear talking me through the start of a building orgasm. He was saying how good I would feel, how sweet I’d taste. His accent doing horribly wicked things, making the release come all that faster.   

“Do you think you could stay silent if I gave you more?” He asked, tilting his wrist and eliciting a deep, drawn-out gasp from me. His thumb circling and pressing the little numb at the top, dragging it down teasingly as he watched my reaction completely engrossed. Cheeks rosy and my eyes fluttering, losing all rationality to the feeling of his fingers stuffed inside me.   

I nodded; my voice edged with desperation. “Yes. Yes, I can be quiet.”  

Only needed my consent, he slowly withdrew his fingers from me. I let out a whimper at the loss, but any anger quickly faded as he brought the digits to his lips. It echoed his actions from the end of the meeting, right before they vanished past his chapped mouth. The teasing sound he made sent a rush of heat from my cheeks down my neck. Unable to talk, only pant as I watched him lower himself into a knee.   

“Your leg,” I tried to stop him as he tried to hide a hiss, only receiving a harsh smack to the hand trying to pull him up.  

“I’m fine,” He bit back, sending a warning look my way.  

His hand slid away from his mouth, gliding up from my ankle to my knee before effortlessly letting it rest on his shoulder. I felt exposed as the chill in the air made my legs tremble, a wave of anxiety settling in my stomach as Viktor's inquisitive gaze roamed over me. Unapologetically, he leaned in closer, tracing his lips along the inside of my thigh. He followed the same path his fingers had taken during the meeting, back to mirroring those precise movements and calculated gestures. His intense focus left me breathless, even before his mouth found my dripping cunt, breathlessness turning into a breathy moan. As the fabric of my skirt fell over his head, his lips and witty tongue began to explore, dragging and molding against me, opening and closing, reacting to every response until he perfected the rhythm.  

Which meant it didn’t take long for another louder moan to escape me, one I quickly stifled by biting down on my bottom lip. Soon to bust it as my hands tried to find a purchase somewhere. One strangling the vines behind my head and the other tangling in his hair as his nose brushed against the nub, a familiar pleasure starting to coil in my stomach. I started shifting my hips restlessly, chasing my release as it started to tickle my edges.  

Finding it hard to keep my lip between my teeth as sounds grew more desperate. The thorns of the vine cutting into my palm as my grip tightened, making him grown as his scalp throbbed. It made my hips raise in surprise and a shameless whorish moan to break past. His following tut draw it out as he held my bucking hips still against his face. Pinning my cunt to his mouth as his tongue moved between the folds— pushing and curling, the movements perfected already. A newfound determination fueled his actions as he pressed his face as close as physically possible, nearly suffocating himself. His grip on my thigh and bone of my hip feeling like it was going to be bruised.  

I chanced looking down, my eyes having fallen closed in this rush of lust. Prying them open I let out shutting gasps as I found him completely lost between my legs. The sight awakening something inside me, no man confident enough to act so desperate. Kneeling beneath me, For me. Hiding like a young boy in his mother’s skits — 

Wrong time to think of — FUCK! He can’t stop. 

“Don’t stop,” I couldn't hold back the longing gasps and soft cries that escaped from the back of my throat, his available fingers glided from my reddening thigh to join his tongue. They quickly synced, accompanying a chuckled at my new pathetic mewling and lust-drunk reactions. My hips giving small tight rolls, fighting against his grip even as it grew skin splittingly tight in an effort to maintain control over. Unable to keep myself from clenching, something he caught with another core rattling chuckle.  

He seemed to be enjoying how the muscles around his face started to twitch and spasm as much as I was enjoying myself. My thighs cutting off his air, much to his happiness as a groan confirmed it and sent my heart into my throat. A warmth starting to pool in my navel as the pulsing began to matched the rise and fall of my chest, hand pulling his head in harder. The band starting to tighten passed the point of no return.   

How was he already making me come. 

“Viktor, I —” He silenced me with a gentle hush, already aware of what I was about to say. I pressed my head into my shoulder, stifling a choked sob as the knot in my stomach grew so tight it became near painful. A shutter coursed through my shoulders, desire igniting my veins with a white-hot intensity as I teetered on the edge of true pleasure. This was a sweetness I had been denied last time, but now I was free to embrace it fully.   

The fall was so much sweeter than the climb as I felt every nerve in my body be lit a flame, hips stuttering as Viktor held my hips down against his mouth with all his strength. Both hands having to shoot up and bruise my skin in order to keep me still, milking my orgasm with just his skilled mouth till I was whimpering for him to stop. My plea faded into breathless whispers as I worked to salivate my dry mouth, feeling as though all the moisture had been drained from my very soul.   

When he finally did stop, I felt like all the air rushed back into my lungs.  

His rough hands smoothed over my hips and thighs, coaxing the tight muscles as he gently lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled his head from my skirt, resting his chin against my stomach, his eyes sparkling with amusement as his lower face glistened with my slick in the moonlight. I would have been completely embarrassed if my mind hadn't still been swirling.  

“What?” My voice was soft as I brushed my fingers gently through his hair, trembling slightly with the fear of shattering this sweet moment. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“That was absolutely not quiet,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly rose, using my hip and the vines behind me for support. I did my best to ignore the slight grunt from the strain on his leg, learning from last time. 

We caught each other’s gaze, and in that instant, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us. The moonlight enveloped us in a silver glow, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way the light danced in his hair.   

“We shouldn’t be out here,” I whispered, half-heartedly trying to sound serious, but the flicker of mischief in his eyes told me he was already thinking of a way to push our luck a little further.   

“Just a few moments longer,” he urged softly, brushing his thumb across the middle of my back I nodded, feeling my heart race at the intimacy of it all. It felt exhilarating, sneaking away and making our own wanton little paradise under the starlit sky.  

... Until a metalic clink came from somewhere above us.   

My breath caught in my throat, and I craned with him to look toward the sound. “Was that…?” I started, glancing back at him, but he was already scanning up the stair wall.  

Before we could decide what to do, a voice called out, cutting through our tranquility like a knife. “Hello! Is anyone out here?” My heart sank as I recognized the voice—it was Elora another assistant to the council, wandering into the garden. I glanced at him with wide eyes, and we both shared a fleeting expression of panic. 

 “Time to play it cool?” he suggested, trying to lighten to mood.  

 I couldn’t help but smile, smoothing down my skirts. “Let’s just hope we weren’t missed,” I replied, shaking my head as the moment we had just shared clung to the air between us.   

 “You first,” He smiled at me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as he nodded up the steps as Elora called out again, threatening to come out to the garden. “Perception and all that.”  

I gave him a thankful grin in return, doing the same with the squeeze. “Sweet,” I complimented as I chanced a small quick kiss, catching him off guard. I didn’t let him recover before I turned to walk away, pulling my hand away last. I saw him give a goofy wave as I ascended the stairs, plastering on a political smile to join Elora on the balcony. “My apologies, I needed air and the Kirammen garden in still breathtaking,” I linked my arms with hers, admiring her lovely blue dress.   

“Oh! We can take a walk if —” I stopped her from turning back to the garden.  

“No!” I said that too loud, drawing her suspicious with a raised brow. “I am fine. I assume Councilwomen Medarda wants to see me?”  

“Yes, your patron has been talking incessantly about your specialty in toxic flora and my mistress was most intrigued by the applications you have found for them medicinally...” Elora’s voice faded into all the others of the party as we emerged from the doors. I sent one long look out to the garden, a new bounce to myself as I joined the group surrounding my Patron.   

“Do try to keep your wits about you. It would be unfortunate if you were to embarrass me,” Hoskel muttered, his voice low but laced with irritation.  Never one to miss a chance. 

I rolled my eyes, “I won’t embarrass you.” I dipped my head lower towards the gorgeous council women to my right, her soft green eyes observing me and liking what she saw. “It's a pleasure to meet you Councilwomen, Elora and my patron speak highly of you.”  

She bowed her head back, eyes flickering to the balcony doors behind me, Viktor walking in finally, a fact unknown to me. “The pleasure is all mine, doctor.” 

(Himerdingers lab at the Acadamy or Hoskels mannor next time? still haven't decided)

Taglist: @freakboycentral • @jollyperfectiontimemachine • @ac1d-0 • @chaoticevolution • @that-gingernut-girly • @im-just-a-simp-le-whore • @shortbreadbunny • @circeinspace • @miju69

[mitsvriii]

— MEMOIRS OF THE PAST

summary: leaving a topic behind to go check up on sunday worked out well in your favor.

cw: romantic sunday pairing, past romantic dan heng pairing, after 2.7 quest but nothing mentioned, reader is an astral express member, caelus as trailblazer, fluff with an undertone of hurt/comfort | wc: 2k+ | my secret santa gift for @milksnake-tea <3 please read the note at the end

The Express seemed to hum during its “nighttime”. The record Caelus set earlier this morning looping idly, the tune stitched into your memory. Pom-Pom had stopped sweeping around ten minutes ago, Himeko retired to her cabin, Welt had long gone to his own as well for a much-needed rest.

Dan Heng insisted that he assisted March in “helping Caelus decorate his room”. Not that you would raise an eyebrow at him for doing so, those two were bound to have everything turned upside down and on the ceiling if left alone.

Which left only one Express member left, Sunday.

In your opinion, he could rival Dan Heng in measures of silence. At first you weren’t sure if he simply disliked you, but after being around him for more than a month you soon realized he was just like that.

It’s not as if he was cold, though.

The first week he was on the Express, he brought everyone delicacies that he presumed would match everyone’s taste.

He was correct in his judgement.

You weren’t even sure how he had figured out that you loved deep-fried flying sea anemone — a dish you tried on Xianzhou when in need of a small energizer after all that went down — nonetheless how many toppings you liked to have with it.

You remember messaging Caelus after receiving the gift, questioning if he had played any part in it. The only response you had received was a Wubbaboo emoji.

Very helpful.

That was besides the point, however. 

Unlocking your phone with a click, you opened your messenger. You sent Dan Heng a simple “u up?” before scrolling through your contacts, bored and in need of someone to bother. 

The second Dan Heng responded, you tapped on the notification.

You ; 10:45pm     u up?

Dan Heng ; 10:47 pm    You should be asleep.

Of course….

You ; 10:47pm    so should you

You hit him with the Pom-Pom “Pay Attention”. That’ll get him.

Dan Heng ; 10:48pm    …    Sleep if you can.     If not go see what Sunday is up to, he’s been silent for a long while.

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    March said she let him in her room to look at photos.    Try looking there first.

You ; 10:49pm     march is letting him go through her photos alone??     did see get possessed by some random heliobi somehow??

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    As far as I’m aware, no.     He’s…processing a lot of things right now.     Especially ones about his past.     I know how that feels.

You bit down of your tongue harshly to stop the bitter laugh surfacing from your throat. You knew that. How could you not practically know everything about him considering you two were the only people on the Express besides Welt, Himeko, and Pom-Pom for a long time.

Maybe, maybe you were still irritated that Dan Heng had kept his secret from you after you both had “dated” off and on for a time of years. Leaving you to a not so fun surprise during your time in the Xianzhou Luofu. Iron filled your mouth and you let your facial muscles relax. Aeons…you needed to get a grip. What was done was done.

Your phone’s ding pulled you out from the mucky mess of the past.  

Dan Heng ; 10:50pm    Please check up on him. 

Cringing, you hesitated before sending a Pom-Pom emoji. Huffing you placed your phone down beside yourself, rolling your head to the side to stare at your cabin’s door. Ah, what the hell. All of that didn’t matter right now. Sunday.

It didn’t take you that long to find him, in March’s cabin. Sitting cross-legged and shuffling through photos, door ajar just enough that you could peek in without disturbing him. You assumed March let him in, she’s bubbly yet still wary when need be. 

After what went down Sunday certainly was a “need be”. 

Rapping your knuckles against the door, you watched as a photo album slipped from his grasp before he caught it between his forefinger and thumb. The only sign of him being startled. Turning his head, Sunday’s posture relax imperceptibly. 

“Sorry”, Slipping inside the cabin, you caught the door before it shut completely, “I should’ve been more noticeable, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me.” He was quick to retort, sparing you a second glance before focusing back on the picture.

“Right.” Easing over you crouched beside Sunday, noting the lack of his gloves and coat – two clothing items he almost never went without. Peering over his shoulder, the image of a smiling Robin with an excited March taking a selfie with her filled your vision. 

Oh. 

You hesitantly sat down, “I remember when that was taken, y’know? On the feldspar.” The addition after everything happened in Penacony died down on your tongue, you shouldn’t mention that. “March was so excited to finally snap a photo with her. She wouldn’t stop rambling about it all day.”

Sunday’s right wing twitched as he placed the photo back in its slot within the laced album, “That sounds like Miss March.”

A silence creeped back over the both of you, the Express’ humming becoming more prominent within your mind. The nagging feeling that you made an incorrect choice prodding along with the melody running on repeat inside your head. Perhaps you should have made the decision to leave him be. Maybe letting Dan Heng know that he was looking through photos would’ve been enough. 

His message became center stage in the circus of your mind. He’s processing a lot of things right now. That was understandable, and that was also the problem. You weren’t sure how to interact with Sunday without dragging him back in his murky mess of a past.

Like you did with yourself earlier.

But, then again, it’s not like you’ve done anything to make him feel outed, right? All you have to do is just leave and check back in with Dan Heng. And maybe you can catch a few hours of sleep. Just excuse yourself and head back to your cabin. 

“Well…” Standing up you raised your arms over your head, stretching until you could start to feel a slight burn, “If you don’t need anything I guess I can-”

“Wait!”

Time seemed to freeze as your eyes went wide, both of Sunday’s wings twitched violently, and the Express seemed to stop humming as if his shout momentarily stunned it. Lowering the hand he had extended in suddenness, Sunday cleared his throat. 

“I apologize. That was abrupt of me.” You swear you could see his eyes flickering between you and the wall, a moment of nervousness from Sunday caught for once in your eyes, “I was curious if you had any more stories about your travels to tell. I enjoy them.”

Feeling yourself becoming flustered, you started to ease back over to where he was sat. Perhaps your tendency to recall and talk about your journeys with the crew had gotten yourself a title as the second best storyteller within the crew.

You were never beating March for second. 

Point still stands. 

Although no one honestly asked you to retell stories unless no one else was present to do so. It might’ve been because you do so without honest flair or excess details that added a hint of humor to the mix. However, that could be your opinion of how you tell tales carrying over to your own thoughts. 

It was like he handed you the book for popcorn reading.

Sunday seemed to slide over, making room for him. A considerate action that wasn’t new. He often didn’t want to get in the way, even when he wasn’t. You can recall when he stood to the side when Pom-Pom was sweeping in a completely different area than him, as if he was trying to blend into the wall. 

Odd.

You reached for a photo in the album blindly, blinking thrice as you realized which one you had chosen. It was one from Xianzhou of all of your luck, one snapped in a hurry. It was on of you, Dan Heng, and Caelus in front of the Express. Caelus and you were mimicking Dan Heng’s newly-found horns (at the time) with your fingers before you all departed Xianzhou, March snapping the photo quickly before Dan Heng had started to stalk off the train.

That was a fun moment, despite all that had happened.

“That’s from the Xianzhou Luofu, correct?” Sunday questioned even though you could tell he already knew by the look within his eyes, “I’ve heard about what had happened there.”

You nodded. “It was a thing.”

A thing? Really?

“I never thought to ask what the story behind his form in these pictures was all about”, Sunday started, “Do you think you could tell me some about it?”

You take that previous statement back, he handed you a loaded gun.

The wince that slipped past your lips was sharp enough to sound like a whistle. With a click of your tongue, you started to put the photo back, “Well, I think you’d have to ask Dan Heng that yourself. He seems to have taken a liking to you so maybe you won’t get the sharp end of the sword.”

The statement was meant to be humorous, yet it came out as the complete opposite.

“It’s just something from his past. Everyone has one that nags them on this Express it seems, even someone as giddy as Caelus,” Closing the album, you reached for another one.

“Even you?”

“Unfortunately”, laughing you turned your face to look at him, “It’s not as deep as memory loss or being birthed from a literal nuke. Why? You surprised?”

“It’s hard to imagine you being chained down by memories and experiences of the past, you don’t let it seem to show.” You weren’t sure if you or Sunday had moved closer to one another.

In public you wanted to add, letting the two words melt on your tongue. 

“Yeah, well”, Scooting closer, your right knee bumped his left, “It’s different for everyone.”

“That it is.”

The humming of the Express seemed to become muted, as if you had submerged underneath the water.

Sunday was so pretty.

His hair framed over his wings perfectly, his eye color blending into his attire beautifully. Little things that he seemed to make stand out wonderfully.

“Do you and Dan Heng have quarrel?” Lifting his head, Sunday’s eyes locked onto your own, “I do not want to trouble you by mentioning the past if both of you have some together.”

“No, it’s just a…little thing.” 

Who started to lean in first?

“A little thing? You have a lot of those, hmm?” Sunday’s lips upturned slightly before they fell into their normal line, “Are you sure?” “You’re not getting in the way of anything, Sunny.” The nickname made his lips part, his honeyed breath being intook by your nostrils, “It’s fine, I swear.”

You could practically feel his hair against your face as he tried to close the distance, flinching back once his nose brushed against yours. Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw as he exhaled shakily, his lashes fluttering closed so delicately it was if a feather had fallen against the smooth water of his skin. 

Smooth lips met yours as soon as your own eyes closed.

You felt his hand sneak up to the nape of your neck, a gasp pushing past your lips at the skin-on-skin contact. Sunday must’ve felt as he did something incorrect, pulling back before you brought up your other hand, keeping him within the moment of the kiss.

The muffled humming started to become clearer as you pulled back to open your eyes. Sunday’s wings had come around to fit around his face, a pink creeping past the edges. 

And you let out a small laugh filled with nothing but joy.

Lowing his wings from his face, Sunday averted his gaze partially to the ground, “I suppose you should go back and try to sleep now.”

Although it was a statement, it carried more a questionable tone.

“Yeah”, you croaked out, nodding stiffly as you stood up. “You rest well if you can.” With a nod himself, Sunday started to study the pattern on another photo album. You practically speed-walked out of March’s cabin, heading to your own down the hall as your hand subconsciously raised to your lips.

Aeons were you glad you didn’t bring the past to the present with Dan Heng.

HI ILLU!! i hope you enjoy and this wasn't too ooc 😓😓 you've been such a huge inspiration and a major reason of why i'm so hooked on sunday as much as i am HAHAHA, i hope you have a very wonderful christmas and the rest of the year treats you right. thank you so much for being so wonderful and joyous to be around, i truly appreciate you 🫶🏽

[loonysama]

I have to agree with everything above. I'm not saying the fic that made me want to stop writing was just because only 1.75% of hits got kudos, but I'd be lying if I didn't say how much that hurt, especially for imo one of the best fics I've ever written that I was already barely able to write due to such small kudos to hits ratios lately. I get that it might not have been something everyone was into, but damn. It made me feel like shit. I'm so grateful for everyone who has supported me over the last few years - especially those who have created art for my fics and read and left kudos on everything - but I think the sting of having my writing be unliked by so many people has been really hard to get over. It shot my confidence and I've had trouble writing ever since. And over the years, I have known several writers who have stopped writing altogether because of this, and even left the fandom because of it. I do not plan to do either, but to be honest, it has been a struggle not to be able to do something I really love doing because it just made me feel so bad to do it.

I wish so much that readers didn't use kudos as a measure of how much they like something. I wish so much that it meant, "Hey, it's so cool that you worked so hard on this so I could devour more content about my favorite ship without paying for it," rather than, "This was amazing, one of the most amazing things I've ever read, so I'm going to reward you with the coveted heart of approval I only use to let the most special of writers know they're the best because they deserve it more than everyone else." This can create competition amongst writers when there really shouldn't be. And more than anything, I wish I could just turn kudos off altogether, but I can't because every single kudo I get lifts my spirits just a little, and that's a really hard feeling to walk away from, even though I suspect most of them come from "guest" bots.

It is a dark truth, and writers aren't really allowed to talk about this because we are supposed to be so grateful for every single heart, and talking about this makes us come across as entitled. We provide a free service for our readers, and I consider a kudo to be a way to acknowledge that, and it costs readers absolutely nothing! In the US, we leave money in tip jars for practically everything. Kudos are tips you don't have to pay for. And it's not like anyone's keeping track and judging readers for leaving hearts for fics that might not be the pinnacle of greatness in their opinion. That's what bookmarks are for, and they can be made private. However, people do judge fics for not having that many kudos and some will skip over fics if the kudos-to-hits ratio is too low. So instead of rewarding only the very best fics with kudos, not leaving kudos actually hurts writers. Not to mention the very personal cost of putting ourselves out there and making ourselves completely vulnerable for everyone to judge us against our fellow writers. Many writers write about very personal things, and tbh, not getting kudos can feel like it's not just our writing being rejected, but ourselves.

So if anyone wants to accuse writers of feeling entitled for being upset about not getting enough kudos, please consider how entitled readers who don't leave kudos are for reading our free labor and not clicking a freaking button (that costs them absolutely nothing) in acknowledgment of the service we happily provide, and how ungrateful they are for not appreciating what we do. We don't have to post our writing. We could just "write for ourselves," but we don't; we share what we write with our readers because that give and take relationship should be rewarding for both writers and readers. But not getting kudos does more to discourage writers from writing altogether than to encourage them to provide more content. You wouldn't pay for a fancy coffee or overpriced cocktail drink without leaving a dollar in the tip jar, would you?

So at the very least, I wish people would stop making writers feel guilty for feeling this way, and I wish writers wouldn't buy into this way of thinking rather than valuing all of our hard work and countless hours that go into writing fanfic. Our feelings are valid; we're allowed to feel like shit when our hard work and vulnerability go unacknowledged for the mere reason that it was judged against someone else's work and found wanting. Wouldn't most readers feel that way if it was the other way around?

Is leaving kudos on fanfics not common courtesy anymore?

Something I've noticed on AO3 in the last two years is the lack of kudos and comments left on fanfics.

Fanfics have an increasing number of hits, but their kudos and comments remain minimal.

I understand that leaving comments is daunting, but kudos is the easiest thing you can do to show support and appreciation for an author.

Part of me wants to blame BookTok and the commercialized consumption of books.

Readers are more demanding and impatient for content, but they're quick to move on once a book is published. It's a constant demand for 'More, more, more' without appreciating and/or supporting authors. And these readers are now getting into fanfic.

I don't want to complain because it's not productive. But if you're new and getting into fanfic: Support writers.

Support means leaving kudos on AO3, and if you're able, leaving a comment. It's simple courtesy.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

William thought he could get away with being on the naughty list, but the reader makes sure he pays the price. With tensing tension and playful power shifts, you'll show him that being bad can be its own reward on Christmas night. He's going to be a little shit with his family there and testing her patience. A little slutty burb for the Christmas season.

oh he’s on the naughty list for sure 😈 merry christmas eve, lovelies! been a fun year and lots more fun to come!! (😉)

you live william’s family as if they’re your own. his sisters are your best friends and you call his mom ‘mom’ too. you love when they visit, but it’s three days into their extended christmas visit and you’ve never wanted them to go home more

william has been a massive tease the entire time, touching you just enough and flirting, but not giving you want you really need.

he’ll brush his hand against your ass when you walk past him, kiss the side of your neck while you cook dinner, wrap an arm around your shoulders and squeeze your breast casually, but he’s been holding back because “my family’s just down the hall, älskling, it would be rude”

fuck him

he’s got mistletoe hanging all over the condo and everyone thinks it’s funny. his parents press sweet kisses to each others mouths when they’re caught. and alex drops a dramatic, over the top kiss on ella’s cheek making everyone laugh

william though. every time he catches you under the mistletoe (which is too many times to be a coincidence) he dips you back in a dramatic kiss, tracing his tongue over your teeth and pressing his hips into yours so you can feel the bulge of his cock. when you’re brought back upright, breathless and wet, he just winks at you and kisses your cheek

he sits next to you on the couch, pressed tight against your side, and drags your legs over his lap, running his hands over your skin and drawing patterns against your inner thighs

you’re impossibly worked up and horny, cranky that you haven’t had a satisfying orgasm in nearly a week. so you concoct your own revenge.

on christmas eve, once everyone’s gone to bed, you take a little bit longer in the bathroom getting ready so william’s cozy in bed by the time you emerge in the bright red lingerie set - lace cupping your breasts and strappy thong crossing your hips. there’s barely anything covering your cunt and you make sure william can see just how soaked you are for him. the jaunty little santa hat on your head completes the look

“oh shit,” william grins when he sees you, reaching out automatically to get his hands on you. “early present for me to unwrap?”

“oh no,” you coo at him. “you’ve been so naughty all week. you don’t get to unwrap anything, mr. nylander.”

he cocks his head, confused, until you show him the length of shiny red ribbon you had hidden behind your back. “hands up,” you command sweetly

william’s grin grows and he complies, holding his hands over his head so you can straddle his lap and secure him to the headboard. you take the opportunity to grind over his hardened cock, breathy little moans escaping your lips. william leans forward and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, laving over the lace-covered bud with the flat of his tongue. you shiver and whine at the touch, gasping when he bites down gently.

“no,” you gasp, nudging at the side of his head. “naughty boys don’t get to touch the presents”

“not even one little peek?” he pouts playfully, groaning when you secure the knot and roll off his lap, giving him a clear view of your soaked cunt

“not even a little one,” you tease, settling yourself between his spread legs, planting your feet on either side of his hips and propping a pillow behind your head. “now watch.”

you treat william to a show, pressing your fingers to your clit and moaning (maybe a little dramatically, but who can blame you?) as you bring yourself closer and closer to orgasm. his cock twitches behind his sweats, steadily leaking precome. with one hand you spread yourself open and make sure william can see clearly how your fingers disappear into your cunt. he groans and his hips jerk with every stroke of your fingers

“älskling, fuck, i’m gonna come just from watching you, shit,” he whines and you smirk at him, delighted

it doesn’t take too much longer to push yourself over the edge, your orgasm hitting quickly and with enough force that your hand is soaked in your come. william comes in his pants a few moments after you, the fabric of his sweats soaked and his chest heaving. his shoulders jerk, hands trying to break the knot.

“fuck,” he laughs hoarsely. “i haven’t come in my pants like that since i was a teenager.”

you crawl onto his lap and grind down over his softening cock, making him whine a little before you kiss him sweetly. “merry christmas, käraste, maybe next year you’ll be on the nice list”

“i’m a big fucking fan of the naughty list, if this is how i get treated,” he laughs, capturing your mouth in a kiss before wrapping his arms around your back after your untie him 🤍

[shigarakislittlepet]

Swallow Your Words

Part 1

Incel!Shigaraki. Quirkless/college seniors AU.

I’m doing this as a series not a one shot because in the process of writing it I got attached to the characters and the plot QnQ this will have a positive character arch for Shiggy. This first part ends on a bit of a climactic spot, but hang in there I’m already writing the next part that will have some spice ♡

tw: HEAVY misogyny; like upsettingly so; I read Reddit threads and instagram comments to get into the headspace of an incel for this; yes it did hurt my brain; that’s all for now I think. Future parts will have heavy smut.

———————————————————————————

Okay, so maybe going out on your third date this week with another brand new guy right after your shift at work wasn’t the brightest idea considering you still had abnormal psych homework to finish. You blearily trudged into your campus library, thankfully open 24 hours, and shuffled into the computer lab. Taking out your textbook, you set to work on the writing assignment due in approximately 6 hours. You got this.

As you were furiously typing up your mock evaluation of patient number 3, you heard someone cough. It made you jump, it was nearly 11pm and you could’ve sworn you were in here alone. You looked around the room as calmly as you could and spotted him sitting two rows of computers down, you were facing each other so he caught you looking. Damn it, not him.

Tomura Shigaraki, AKA rich asshole misogynist lives off daddy’s money motherfucker. He caught sight of your decidedly slutty outfit (a tank top push up bra miniskirt combo that never failed to get your dinner covered and a super oversized zip up hoody) and unmistakably doneforadate hair and makeup when you’d walked in, paying him no mind.

-What a bitch, he thought. She probably came here straight from getting fucked over some loser’s coffee table and was so disappointed at how shit he was that she decided maybe she didn’t wanna flunk out senior year and came here to finish her homework.- He rolled his eyes.

He’d had a crush on you since he first saw you freshman year. And he hated himself for it. Just like he hated how soft your hair looked, or how good you smelled sitting at the desk in front of him, or how your eyes sparkled when you laughed at something your friends said. He hated it all. Women were good for nothing cheaters and gold-digging sluts, just like his first stepmother. And the second. And the last. And the current. He’d watched these women sneak around his father after he’d given them everything and it was never enough for them. His father, ever pragmatic, would just get rid of them and find a new one when he finally caught them. Watching this happen over and over again taught him two things. 1) Women are worthless and 2) Women are replaceable. But not you. It didn’t matter how many girls Touya set him up with, he couldn’t get you out of his head. It pissed him off. He should be able to just fuck any bitch and get it out of his system. But he couldn’t. It was torture. And it made him hate you more.

You rolled your eyes, breaking eye contact and he chuckled. You tried your hardest to ignore him, fuck that guy. You could practically hear his internal obnoxious comments from here. He had been in at least one of your classes every semester since freshman year of college. He totally wasn’t stalking you. You had the same major, Forensic Psychology, so you told yourself it made sense you’d be taking similar classes. He’d managed to piss you off for the last four years almost every single day. He and his friend Touya, another trust fund kid that shared your major, would often make crude remarks back and forth to each other during class. Because their fathers donate so much money to the college, the professors can’t say anything without fear of retaliation. You could though, and often did when you couldn’t stand ignoring them any longer. Usually embarrassing them into shutting the fuck up for the day. The blissful peace never lasted long however.

“You get all dressed up like that just for me? I’m touched, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t know where you’ve been.” He sneered, finally deciding to break the silence. You raised an eyebrow at him and took in his relaxed posture. Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, shit eating grin splitting his infuriatingly pretty face. You scoffed at him, eyebrow still raised, and went back to doing your homework. “What, no snotty retort? I’m almost offended. Cat got your tongue? Or is that tongue too tired from what it got up to tonight?” He mimed sucking a dick and you sighed deeply. “Oh please, as if I’d get this dressed up just to impress you. All it would take is a T-shirt and jeans anyway, since we both know the last woman you saw in a mini skirt only talked to you cause you paid her.” You snarked back.

He visibly tensed. “I don’t pay whores to spend time with me, so if you’re searching for a summer job keep looking.” You actually laughed. Out loud. “You silly little rich boy, no amount of money is worth stooping low enough to fuck an incel like you.”

Your laugh caught him off guard. It was long and loud and almost musical. It pissed him off. So did everything about you. You were too good at reading people, at reading him. He wanted to listen to you laugh more. Almost as much as he wanted to fuck that stupid beautiful grin off your face. Instead, he just huffed and deflated slightly. “What makes you think I’m an incel? Is it cause I don’t go on 10 dates a week? Not all of us are that desperate, honey.” He threw back at you. Without even looking up, you shot back, “It was only 3, fyi, and don’t call me that. Also, no it’s not that. It’s everything about you. You have never, in 4 years of being unfortunately aware of your existence, ever shown that you hold even a modicum of respect for women. Any woman. And you and your jerk bff do nothing in class but talk over and make sexual comments about the girls sitting around you while making assumptions about their personal lives. God forbid we have a female professor! You dont go on dates because every woman in a 10 mile radius of you knows what a disgusting shitbag you are. You make it exceptionally clear that you don’t want us around other than to occasionally stoke your micro dick while you get off to cartoon porn. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish my homework.” You glanced at the clock, 11:30. Ugh, tomorrow is going to suck.

He seethed. No one spoke to him like that ever. It pissed him off that some dumb slut like you thought you could get away with it. He was going to get even. He was going to find a way to make you his. He was going to be the one to bend you over his coffee table. And his desk. And his car. And anything else he felt like bending you over. He would get you to submit to him. And he would make it painful and humiliating for you, just to prove a point. Let’s see you call him an incel shitbag after that.

He contemplated how he was going to do this for a few minutes. He decided he would start by just playing it cool. Sighing long and loud, he started, “Hey, are you working on the Abnormal or the Physio homework?” He asked, putting effort into making himself sound exasperated. -There is no way this is going to work, he thought.- You raised your brow again, “Abnormal, already did the physio. Why?” You were immediately skeptical. “I missed class yesterday, and this really sucks but I’m stuck on this bullshit.” He wasn’t. “You think you might deign to help me? And let me copy your notes?” He looked at you almost… hopefully. What the fuck? “Uh, are you sure you’d want such a ‘dumb worthless bitch’ to help you with your homework? I’d hate to drop your IQ by breathing the same air as you.” You said flatly, throwing some of his more common insults back in his face. “Oh come on, we both know your GPA is like a 4.2-” “4.5.” You corrected. He sighed in irritation. “Look, will you please just come over here and help me? I’ll even call it tutoring, I’ll pay you.” You regarded him skeptically. Damn it, if you didn’t really really need the cash. “Hmm. Okay, fine. I’ll help you. But only if you promise to leave me alone in class from now on. Stop snapping my bra straps and making gross comments about me to Touya, I mean it. And it’s gonna be 100$ bucks to help you with two classes at midnight the night before the homework is due.”

-Pocket change, he thought.-

-Easy money, you thought.-

That was… shockingly easy. He hadn’t expected you to actually agree to help him. Or to gather your things and gracefully float over to the chair and computer next to his. You pulled up her homework again, continuing to work on it. “So, what did you need help…with…” you trailed off as you looked to his computer to see what he was stuck on. He was watching cartoon porn. On a school computer. He quickly clicked out of it and his homework came into view. Well, you thought, at least he was actually doing his homework. At some point. You gazed at him from the corner of her eye. He really is an incel. He grinned at you almost evilly. Although man, ok, getting caught watching porn on a school computer totally does nothing to refute your incel accusation. But it did make you flush satisfyingly. You held out your hand expectantly. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet, handing you a crisp 100$ bill. You gawked at it, “It’s a wonder no one has ever mugged you I swear.” You said, shaking your head. The motion caused your hair to swish prettily, he could smell your shampoo. He pulled his backpack into his lap.

You spent the petter part of the next hour doing your homework together, you “helping” him as you went. He was surprised you actually knew what you were talking about. He was surprised you could retain any information in that wind tunnel you called a skull, even knowing your GPA was as high as it was. You were actually…smart? You didn’t look smart, you looked like every other college whore with dyed hair and winged eyeliner. It made him angrier, for some reason. It made him want to crush you beneath him even more. You on the other hand were surprised that he was able to hold a conversation with you for this long without insulting you. You actually just laughed at one of his jokes. “You know, you’re actually fun to talk to when you’re not constantly putting me down.” You said, smile wide and eyes all sparkly again. Ugh. He hated how it made his stomach flip. “Am I?” He attempted a smile back. “Mhmm. You’re even a little bit funny. JUST a little bit.” You joked back while typing up the last bit of your assignment.

Funny? She thinks I’m funny? And.. ‘fun’ to talk to? Girls didn’t usually think so, even when he wasn’t insulting them. They usually couldn’t get past his face. He had eczema, and even though his father’s very expensive doctors worked hard to keep it under control so it wasn’t angry red and weeping anymore, his skin WAS chronically dry. Even his face and neck, though it was worst around his eyes. The skin there looked stretched and almost flaky, though it wasn’t NEARLY as bad as it had been when he was a child. He had a scar over one of his eyes that started above his eyebrow and fell just above his cheekbone and another scar on his mouth from when he was a kid and couldn’t stop scratching at his face. He looked… deranged maybe? Not pretty. Certainly not pretty, you told yourself over and over while sitting there talking with him like it was a normal thing you did. Certainly not pretty, with his pale shaggy hair and his big eyes that looked almost like shiny rubies this close up and the little beauty mark on his chin. Even his scar made him look… you didn’t know, edgy? Beautiful, a sick twisted part of your mind offered. Oh god no. PLEASE no.

You started packing up your things and getting ready to go. “Well, this wasn’t the worst end to a night I’ve ever had. Thanks for keeping me company, I’ll see you in class in… god, 4 hours?” You smiled at him, getting up from your chair. It was nearly 2:30 in the morning. He laughed a bit, “Ah, yeah. Thank you for helping me finish.” Even HE cringed a bit and that double entendre. “But uh, hey, you live off campus right? Just come crash on my couch, I’ll take you to class after we both get a power nap. That way you don’t have to wake up even earlier just to come back.” He casually suggested way more confidently than he felt. (Now listen, if you’ve never pulled an all nighter right before a 6am class, you might think this is insane. But this… this was like the dove and the olive branch.)

-Thank god, you thought. And he’s really not so bad honestly, maybe you just had to get to know him. Famous last words. -

You practically beamed up at him, now standing at his full height, “That would be so nice actually, thank you!” You paused. “As long as you don’t try to do anything to me in my sleep.” You narrowed your eyes at him. He laughed.

You got to his dorm and your jaw dropped. It wasn’t a dorm. It was a dedicated on campus villa for his family to use when visiting or attending classes. His whole family were alumni of this college it seemed. Apparently Touya’s family had one too, right next door, which is how they’d met as freshman. It was… adorable. Landscaping clearly took care of the outside, the grass was immaculate and the garden in front was lousy with flowers and shrubbery and meticulously kept ivy that climbed latticework around the windows. Above the door was a gold plaque, “In honor of family Shigaraki for their generous donations throughout the history of this campus.” The Shigaraki was the largest thing in the plaque, written in elegant swirling cursive.

“It’s beautiful.”, you said in awe. You’d never imagined a person like him would live in a place that looked like this. How is he so miserable? You wondered. He has money and a beautiful house and his college is payed for in full. He’ll never have to worry about student loan debt or whether he’ll eat or not or his parents medical bills or his siblings needing new clothes and shoes for school. He’ll never have to go on dates just to eat because his whole paycheck goes to his family to make sure they survive until he’s making enough money to support all of them. You just… couldn’t understand. It seemed like he had everything.

He seemed surprised by your compliment of the place. “Oh, thanks. Yeah it’s pretty old now, but the school keeps it in great condition. The past four generations of Shigarakis have lived in this place. I didn’t think much of it at first, just a place to pass out and do homework. But a year ago I went into the attic and found an old picture album my grandmother made while she went here. It made it feel… more important.” He rambled on while he fumbled with the keys in the lock, not sure why he was telling you this. “Ahg, this damn thing always sticks.” He finally unlocked it and ushered you inside.

[cherry-pop-elf]

“Hi! I’m Polle! Mr. Pony’s Son!”

Polle Pony:

The son of Mr. Pony Aka CEO of Pony Express

Mother died in childbirth, so Polle doesn’t know much about her. Just what the tribe can offer

He was the inspiration for the mascot, and was the voice actor as well. Was both a job and the ability to keep Polle tethered to the company. Despite the fact he hates how his father treats the company and people

Wanted to grow up to be an astronaut but due to developing heart disease from the side effect of his mother’s death he never was legally able to qualify…..So what’s the next best thing?

Has alot of beef with his father about how the company is run and how his father rather pay off people and sweep things under the rug instead of confronting them. Before leaving for the trip they had a massive argument about it, and Polle was left being blamed for his mother’s death.

The last thing his father told him was he was the reason his mother died

Due to being the son of the CEO the moment the crash happens the company is notified immediately, and help IS coming. It’s just a matter of survival

Relationships With The Tulpar Crew:

Captain Curly: Fatherly

He’s known curly since he was a child, and always admired him

Even with them not having interact to often, until he officially became a proper Tulpar worker, he still had alot of impact on him

Growing up around Nannie’s and a absent father makes ANYONE seem better

Curly very much takes the fatherly role seriously due to growing up with a big family

Makes what happens from the crash all the more impactful for Polle

Nurse Anya: Motherly

He instantly was glued to her as a mother figure. Pretty much her assistant nurse even

Due to his heart condition he has to see her every morning and night for his medications, and to have his heart checked on. This means they bonded alot

That means she’s very aware of what happened to his mother

And by proxy he’s one of the first people she explains the ‘situation’ to, since he would understand the depths of just how bad this is

Polle will do whatever it takes to protect her.

Protect his mama….

Intern Daisuke: Brotherly

Daisuke is only about 2-3 years younger than him, so they become fatherly brotherly pretty fast

There is also the fact that Polle grew up with private education and was rather isolated from society because of his father, so his mental state is a bit warped and he’s more childish then expected

This often means Daisuke takes on a almost older brother role compared to the flip side

Also since Polle is aware of just how many corners the company cuts he does his best to protect Daisuke from interacting with things he shouldn’t. Such as the air vents

He’s just as important to him as Anya

Mechanic Swansea: Iffy

Swansea reminds Polle a lot of his own father, so he is rather awkward around him

Either he’s disassociated or anxious if left alone with him

There was a time Swansea yelled at him, and rose his hand to motion to something, which caused Polle to cover his face and whimper out a ‘I’m sorry dad-‘

Swansea avoided yelling as much as he could since then, and if he has to he will out right push him out of the room before he starts the scream

It’s awkward, and filled with tension, but it’s more so one sided. Swansea is a dad after all, and knows a hurt kid when he see them

Co-Pilot Jimmy: Warped

Polle pretty much instantly fell in love with him

Due to his warped sense of social norms alot of manipulation either goes over his head or the rose tinted glasses hide the deeper intentions

Polle did grow up with the company, so being surrounded by men full of manipulation isn’t anything new. Makes for much of Jimmy’s tactics ineffective on him

So there needs to be alternative ways

Things really went hell after the crash, though, since Polle knew the truth. Shattered his heart and made his brain melt a bit

Five stages of grief speed run really

Now it’s a matter of survival

Pre-Crash

Much of his job was keeping records of the transferring products, communications, and to be the person to deal with the interactions of when dropping off the product itself and helping reload the ship with new stock for the return trip

As the son of the CEO he also had a ‘skeleton key’ key card to access anything at all times. Also meant he knew just how dangerous the ship’s maintenance really was

When not in the nurses office he would either be playing games with Daisuke or invading the cockpit to be fascinated by the travel. Very friendly and sweet guy

Hours Before Crash

It had been Polle to confront Jimmy when Anya told him what happened. Since he had been smitten by the man he couldn’t help but confront him on a topic he himself is sensitive with. Maybe things could be fixed? A miscommunication?

Of course that lead to a fight and the two tussled before Jimmy ran off to crash the ship in desperation.

Because of that he entered it while Curly was in there at the same time

This caused a new timeline where Jimmy got partially involved in the crash. It caused his hands to be burned and damaged coughing cough red handed cough cough

But that also meant that Curly managed to not be as damaged as before. He still was immobile, but his limbs were still attached to his body. Gave for a better moral at least

Post Crash

Due to him and Jimmy getting in that fight before hand he was very aware what the truth of the matter was, but Jimmy would try every dirty trick he could to manipulate Polle into thinking what Anya said wasn’t true

Even as far as to tamper with the medication he took to try and make him think it was side effects gone wrong

But Polle grew up around heartless CEO’s. His broken heart was starting to cage itself into a means of protection to the people he cares about most

A close call was had when Polle had a heart attack though, and was comatosed.

Jimmy thought he was able to pull it off, until Daisuke grew suspicious when visiting him in the medical bay. That everyone that had beef with Jimmy was seeming to be getting into some strange medical mess

When Polle managed to get himself back to the land of the living shit had really reached it’s capacity and blood was on the walls

Now it’s a matter of him or Jimmy. The only person left he can save is Curly, and by god if his heart gives out because of it…

So be it…..

[raxistaicho]

Woah, this one blew up since I first saw it, very interesting.

I thought sealioning was our thing, but Fewix (emblemxeno) decided to toss in his two cents. Badly, as is his won't, but oh well.

First, starting with something Fewix said:

Rhea's a genocide survivor and the "evil red lady" in question was grave robbing her dead family's tombs

As usual, Edelgard had no way of knowing Crest Stones are the body parts of Rhea's dead kin. Thanks to Rhea herself. From Edelgard's perspective, she was raiding a weapons cache hidden within a tomb, rather like how Rhea hid a Relic in her own casket. You can't desecrate a site that's already been desecrated.

and has been complicit in most of the tragedies and dangers that have befallen garreg mach during that year. Rhea should've done more batshit things actually.

She threatened to kill Byleth in an exceptional vicious and traumatic way, my dude. The death she prescribed for Byleth was brutality that would be right out of The Witcher.

We generally frown upon paying evil unto evil.

Also the devs said that Rhea's a cat lover which is why there's animals througout the monastery and there was a plan for her private quarters to be filled with cats/materials that cats love

No, she was planned to be an animal lover, but that got cut from the finished product.

Also nice to hear Rhea's swanky living space was also going to have a private bathroom. I wonder if it had proper plumping, too?

From Diaphin:

being a genocide survivor doesn't entitle her to hold an entire Continent of people hostage due to the notion of her own racial superiority based on her own ancestry. Especially after she chose to already activeöy reward the benefactors of said genocide.

I'm not quite sure I'd call it hostage, but Rhea definitely did believe humans weren't fit to govern their own affairs. The whole point of the Church of Seiros was to maintain order as a holding pattern until Rhea could bring Sothis back to life to continue ruling the land.

And funnily enough…isn't she a heretic to her own religion in CF? In CF, Edelgard gets crowned with Sothis living Vessel and chosen successor as her witness, who protects her from Rheas judgement in an act of divine Intervention. Rhea loses all authority as archbishop of Sothis the second she doesn't accepts Byleths judgement. According to the Central Churches own teachings, everything Edelgard does in CF is right.

Heheh, and I take full advantage of that in my fanfic, On Black Wings. Byleth grants Edelgard a lot of legitimacy in the eyes of the faithful thanks to Rhea spreading word of her divine status before the Holy Tomb.

But yes, basically all of that. It's actually a shame 3H proper doesn't go further with those implications. Yet another issue of project bloat due to having too many routes. Diaphin and I are in agreement it should've just been Crimson Flower and Azure Moon.

From Fewix:

-"Hold hostage" Incorrect that she's holding anything or anyone hostage, when two of the three sovereign nations remain without strict influence from the church in the current era.

Rhea and Seteth don't seem to have gotten the message.

If you're referring to tech advancement, there are in-game signs that she has voluntarily let her influence on such restrictions wane (autopsy, advanced crest tech, mass book printing, etc.).

Aight, so I made a big rant on this one, but I don't give a shit if Rhea later relaxed her bans. She does not have the right to decide how quickly society develops. It happens as it will happen, and it's not for her decide how quickly is too quickly. That more than anything else is a sign of her arrogant certainty that humans can't govern their own affairs. It'd be one thing if she only restrained weapons development, but medical advancements and book-making? Nah, she can fuck right off with that. She's got blood on her hands with just those two restraints, to say nothing of all the others there might have been.

-"reward benefactors of genocide" Rhea killed the ten elites and spared their children because children don't deserve to be punished for the wrongdoings of their parents

Everything up until that is above board (if a bit uncharacteristic of her). It's galling that Rhea chose to allow mankind (and by mankind I mean Faerghus and Leicester) to continue to benefit from their horrific deeds by giving them the Relics when they proved useful to her. She should have sealed the Relics away in the Holy Tomb and never took them back out. Allowing her slaughtered kin to be used as tools of enforcement of the church, Faerghus, and Leicester's hegemony is a disgrace to them.

-"Isn't Rhea a heretic" Nope, because 3H's theological narrative is ultimately to discredit the Divine Right of Kings ("god said it therefore I'm right") and to prop up Mandate of Heaven ("may the ruler be virtuous lest he be overthrown by the people") instead. Rhea's not a ruler of a nation so she can't be overthrown out of her own church, Dimitri is falsely sentenced by the agarthans and traitorous nobles (not the common folk), and Claude isn't ever overthrown either. Edelgard is the only one who can get overthrown by her own subjects in-game, and even in her own route's epilogue there is mention of revolts that Hubert's Secret Police puts down.

Holy shit, that's a non-sequitor stacked with using semantics as a defense. If you're still confused, Seteth said Rhea committed a huge taboo trying to bring Sothis back from the dead. Trying to bring anyone back from the dead is typically the action of a villain in this series.

Edelgard is the only one who can get overthrown by her own subjects in-game

Most of them being,

traitorous nobles (not the common folk)

and even in her own route's epilogue there is mention of revolts that Hubert's Secret Police puts down.

Don't look now, Fewix:

To foster trust, Claude frequently sent Balthus into Fódlan on missions to help quell revolts begun by Imperial loyalists.

Byleth needs foreign help to maintain their throne? Guess they lost the Mandate of Heaven, too.

Also, you got that nonsense on Divine Right of Kings and the Mandate of Heaven from Fantasy Invader, who I consider an anti-source: if he says it, it's probably false.

Also Sothis' crest stone disappears and Byleth's hair turns back to blue, so no, even by your reading, you're still wrong since Sothis took her divine right away after her daughter was killed

Yeah, you're definitely using fucking Fantasy Invader as a source, ye gods.

Yeah, Sothis definitely hated Byleth and wanted to punish them.

Diaphin went on for a bit, but I was more interested in smacking Fewix around a bit, so I'll leave it at that. Merry Christmas, everyone!

I think one of the funniest arguments I've seen in FE Twitter for why Nabateans should be ruling and hold authority over the inferior race is probably how their age and lived experience makes them most fit to rule when the US just went over the issue of its running candidates for leadership becoming increasingly old.

Like yeah, there are old people who through lived experiences and age have gained alot of insights and wisdom, but then there is also your insane grandpa who is angry at kids day and age playing with their Minecrafts instead of working in the mines from 4am to 10pm.

Rhea is a person who gets so insanely angry over her science fair necromancy experiment siding with the evil red lady and her now losing the war, that against every offer to surrender or resolve this war with her dignity and life intact, she instead has the biggest german kid temper tantrum in gaming history and orders to burn an entire civilian city she and her remaining troops currently inhabit and which gave them refuge for 5 years. I wouldn't trust Rhea to take care of my cat without burning the town I live in to the ground because he wouldn't let her pet him.

[quintessenceofdust88]

🎄🎄 The Christmas Book - A Tale in 4 parts: part 2 🎄🎄

(I should be writing the next chapter of Little Blobs and/or finishing Flaming Delights, but this was screaming at me to be written, so I'm guessing Flaming Delights will be a post-Christmas Hallmark movie, and this will be my Christmas gift to y'all.)

Part 1: [2025]

2030

It's five years before Buck and Tommy manage to get Christmas off together again, and the twins are absolutely thrilled about it. They're four years old now, able to understand what it's all about, and very excited about spending the holiday with both their Daddy and Papa.

Tomorrow they'll go over to grandpa Bobby for lunch, but tonight, on Christmas Eve, it's just the four of them. The twins are lying on the floor in their matching PJs (it's a green set covered in gingerbread men that Maddie bought them and it's ridiculously adorable), their bare feet swinging in the air as they make drawings on the Christmas Book.

Buck and Tommy already glued some pictures to their 2030 entry: Stella and Leonardo meeting Santa (Leo had been very wary but polite, calling him 'Mr. Santa' and very sweetly asking for a puppy that Tommy and Buck had agreed he wouldn't get, not for another few years, and he had settled for a plushie one instead; Stella had sat by Santa's side with no fear whatsoever, promptly asked for a Wonder Woman doll and asked how many reindeer would be taking the sled, cause she wanted to leave a carrot for each one); the four of them plus Eddie and Chris in the ice skating rink (Buck had wisely stayed behind under the guide of keeping Chris company, and had taken a lot of shit from Chris himself for it, but it was better than making a complete fool out of himself on the ice. Stella and Leo had been naturals at it, just like their Papa); the kids baking cookies with Jee, Kevin, Denny and Mara.

Now Stella and Leo are adding their own decorations around the photos while Buck and Tommy finish decorating the tree. Every year they promise themselves they'll finish before Christmas Eve, and every year they fail to do so, but Buck has faith that next year they'll manage it.

"Daddy, can I draw ice skates like the ones we used the other day?" Leo asks, his clear eyebrows frowned in concentration.

"Course you can, buddy" Buck encourages distractedly, taking a step back to check the tree.

Some ornaments are not quite where he likes them, because the kids had helped during the whole process, so most of the cuter ones (especially the mickey-shaped ones that the twins got when Bobby took them to Disneyland the Christmas before) are hanging on lower branches. But over the last four years he has learned to value the process over the results, especially when baking or crafting is involved.

"Daddy" Leo asks again, his soft cheek supported by his hand as he looks quizzically at the page. Stella is drawing the fourth out of eight carrots, one for each reindeer like she had promised Santa, and although some of them look less carrot-shaped than others, it's the thought that counts. "How do you draw an ice skate?"

"Um", Buck says, not quite sure what to tell his son, and desperately looks at Tommy. Out of the two of them, his husband is the one with drawing abilities; Buck can't even play Pictionary without people thinking his bird is a car or vice-versa.

"Tell you what, Leo-bear" Tommy says, sitting down on the floor between their twins, groaning as he does so. Buck smirks teasingly at him, mouthing 'old man', and he knows the only reason Tommy doesn't flip him off is because the kids are there, but he might pay for his comment once they're asleep (he hopes he'll pay for his comment once they're asleep). "Why don't Papa draw it and then you color it and add the shoelaces? Those are easier, you draw them like spaghetti"

"Oh, like we drew in the birthday card we sent Nonna?" Leo asks, and Tommy nods in confirmation, taking the crayon from his son's hand and hastily sketching a small ice skate.

"Papa, can you draw one for me too?! And can I color it with my glitter crayon?!" Stella asks excitedly once she sees what Tommy drew for her brother, and Leo gasps.

"I want to use glitter crayons too! Can we, Papa?!" He asks, and both of them turn their puppy eyes at Tommy, which of course means he's doomed.

"Yeah, they're in the playroom drawer. Do you need help getting it?" Tommy asks, and Buck, as always, marvels at how good he is at giving the children their autonomy.

It's something they're both very adamant about. Buck's read about a thousand books about Montessorian education and found out it wasn't actually about raising sad beige babies, but about not doing things for the kids that they can do on their own, fetching their toys being one of them.

"Nope, we got it! C'mon, Stellina!" Leo answers, jumping up and offering his hand to Stella, who eagerly follows her brother down the hallway and into their playroom.

Buck looks at them, these two little wonders of nature they've been raising and that become more and more their own people every day, and his heart feels full. And then he looks at his husband, dutifully drying ice skates for their kids to color, and his heart feels even fuller, if at all possible.

He rummages through the Christmas ornaments' box, mostly empty by this point, until he finds what he was looking for. A branch of dried mistletoe, kept there for the last five years and that it'll still serve its purpose, he's sure.

Buck kneels down besides Tommy, holding the mistletoe over his head, staring expectantly at him until his husband looks up from his doodle and rolls his eyes, though his smile betrays him.

"I think you're tricking me into a kiss, mr. Kinard" Tommy teases, but he's already holding Buck's cheeks with both his hands, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

Buck melts into it, allowing his lips to linger onto Tommy's for just a while longer. They've been together for roughly five years, kissed at least once every day (which means at least 1.800 kisses, and wow. That's a lot of kissing), and Buck still feels giddy every time they put their lips together.

"Ewwww, Daddy and Papa are kissing!" Leo says, sticking out his tongue, the glitter crayon box held tightly in his small fist. Stella, however, is looking at them with pure awe in their eyes.

"Awww, I think it's cute, Leo! It's like at the end of stories, there's always kissing" She says, looking at the two of them expectantly. "Do it again, Daddy? Please?"

Tommy and Buck exchange a sheepish look, and Buck's sure his cheeks are as red as his husband's. But who is he to deny his romantic of a daughter?

"Since you asked so nicely, Stellina" He teases, and dives in for a chaste kiss that Tommy happily retributes. The background noise is Stella's cheering and Leo's exclaiming 'Grossss', and Buck thinks that if people could explode from happiness, he'd be at serious danger.

"Okay, can we pleaseeee put the star now?" Leo asks once they're apart, and Buck remember he had promised to put the star under the kids' watchful gaze.

"C'mon, mini-menaces, sit here on my lap so we can watch Daddy put the star, and then you can finish your drawing"

"And then it's bedtime" Buck finishes while he rummages the box to get their trusted star out. "Or else Santa won't bring any presents to this house"

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul 

The threat of no presents is enough to get the kids nodding, and they scamper to sit on Tommy's knees, eagerly watching Buck. This tree is not as tall as their last one, and he won't need the ladder to place the star on top of it. They know the twins would love to help, but their coordination is not that good yet, and both Buck and Tommy have answered enough calls of children hurt by Christmas trees falling on top of them to be properly paranoid. Maybe in a few years.

For now, they are happy to snuggle into their Papa's broad chest and look in awe as their tall strong Daddy places the star on top of the tree. As Buck does that, his eyes keeps drifting to his perfect little family, and he realizes that the three stars he needs are right there.

Tag list (lemme know if you want to be added or removed :) ) :

@asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld

@buckleyskinards

[christinebloodwrittings]

Die in your arms #5

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Taglist open: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17 @vxllys @modifiedmonster @sirens-and-moonflowers @qardasngan @polytheatrix

Warnings: Implied SA, imprisonment, trauma, mentions of blood.

Masterlist

Proofing made by: @littlebluefishtail

April 1914. New Orleans, Louisiana.  

The melody played with your senses, in a way that when you turned you could only hear it with one ear at a time. And you turned and turned, and his hand guided you through the room, occasionally pressing his chest against yours. It wasn't so bad, his warmth was unbearably comfortable.

Without warning, a nauseating smell of tobacco and liquor filled the dining room, coming from a door you didn't recognize behind the stairs. "Don't pay attention to the door, darling." Alastor's voice was distorted and sounded like a broken gramophone. "There's nothing a doll like you should worry about," you recognized that voice, as well as his breath smelling of blood and seafood. 

The realization and the whole heavy atmosphere crushed you. Alastor's thin, calloused hands were exchanged for larger and fat ones, with cold rings that sent shivers up your spine. 

As soon as you tried to move away from him, multiple hands broke the wood under you, trapping your body in place. 

The only thing you could hear between the laughter of the wretch behind you was your desperate attempts to push your way through his fingers. You managed to take a few steps towards the door, but when your fingers were about to touch the handle, black water began to rise from between the wooden floorboards.

Sobbing and screaming, you fell into the water, unable to hold on to anything. Is this how you would die? Consumed by fear and darkness? 

Y/n?

Y/N!

- Y/N wake up! It's just a nightmare! - you heard something in the darkness, away, very far away. A lady’s voice calling you from a speck of light floating in the void. - You’re safe, open your eyes, please - the voice pleaded, a thick accent more present in it.

You struggled to open your eyes, even more so to adjust your vision to the street lamp post shining just outside your window. Your chest heaved up and down as the cold air burned down and out your lungs. 

Your body was heavy and drenched in sweat. Unclenching your muscles and hands from the tense state they were was a very unpleasant sensation, although the word falls short. As you let go of the sheets your hands clicked and cramped, provoking you letting out puffs of air through your nose, teeth gritting given the pain.

The clock marked one o’clock in the morning. Not that you cared, it wasn’t the first time that it happened. You took one pill of methaqualone every two days, for insomnia. It was prescribed that way because it causes addiction and severe withdrawal symptoms, and Rosemary thought that given your story with opium and aphrodisiacs, you’d had enough of addiction related issues. 

Taking one more pill would do you more harm than good, so you thought a glass of water and a short walk in the garden might do the trick.

It was nothing new, you just did what Rosemary did the first time you had withdrawal attacks. With a damp towel you wiped the sweat off your body, gagging several times as you lowered the towel down your torso. The cold helped a lot to contrast the heat of your body, without actually numbing your skin.

You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror, the reflection of your sunken eyes and prominent facial bones passing through your eyes. However, after opening them again, you could notice some pink tones on your cheeks, your face was definitely fuller and healthier. You no longer looked like a ghost. 

For many years you couldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror, so you avoided them. Now that you were slowly getting better, could you? Or did the you before the brothel die with no way to get her back?

You decided not to dwell on it too much and changed your nightgown and sheets, walking with both to the laundry basket, prepping them for cleaning at a more appropriate hour. 

On your way down, you noticed Alastor’s door was open, and he was clearly not inside. Down in the kitchen, his plate was still inside the fridge, untouched. So it was obvious to you that he was doing his secret activities and he was running awfully late. You grabbed a glass of water and sat in between the laundry room and the steps to the garden. 

After a few minutes you heard the rattling of keys and the main door opening and closing. Then Alastor's footsteps, slow, almost dragging his feet against the floorboards. Without even looking at him you could tell he was exhausted.

When he was next to the kitchen, the shape of your morning robe at the end of the way made him freeze in place. He had no explanation of why he wasn’t home yet, he assumed you’d already be asleep, so he didn’t need one. 

But he also couldn't hide the fact that he hadn't just arrived home, stinking of blood and sweat, so he tried as best he could to make his voice sound like he was simply returning from overtime at work.

"Good evening, Y/n, I thought you would already be asleep" the casual tone and your name on his lips indicated a danger sign, so you weren't going to turn around for anything in the world.

“I woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep…here I am” Your body was still shaking from the overwhelming dream and the pat down, the water didn’t wash down the taste of bile in the back of your throat, and to top it all the stench of blood Alastor carried, made you sicker.

“Give me a minute” you heard him run upstairs, then he came back down around fifteen minutes later. 

“Can you give me some room?” you scooched a little to the edge of the entrance. “Here, warm milk and honey” you grabbed the mug welcoming the tenderness and the sweet vapors. “Holy shit” you looked at his face, seeing a cut over his lip and a dark bruise on his cheek. 

“Don’t mind it” his voice was stern, firm. It was so filled with an accent that was not his usual transatlantic one, as he once put it. It was raw, to put it simply. 

You reached a hand towards him, getting yourself ready in case he wanted to slap your intent away. He didn’t, his gaze was fixed on the garden fence, aware of your sudden touch. 

“Can I at least clean it?” your thumb barely caressed the edge of the cut, it wasn’t a deep one, but it definitely took a couple hits to make it. “No, thank you anyhow, ma chére” he smiled, weakly leaning against your touch, then making a strange displeased face and taking your hand off his face. 

You took one big sip of the sweet beverage, relaxing with the warm feeling traveling down your chest. “Did you have a nightmare again?” you almost spit out the milk when he asked, “Again?” you coughed out, a hand in your chest for support. “I’ve figured they are nightmares for the way sometimes I catch the sound of sheet rustling from your room” he had made a pitiful look towards you, also seeing your hand grab the hem of your robe, and twist it between your fingers.

“Shit, I’m-” you tried, but he interrupted you, taking one of your loose strands of hair into his index and thumb. “Not to offend you dear, but don’t apologize. Never apologize for the things you had to do to survive, and how the very same affect you afterwards” he let the strand slide from his finger and fall onto your shoulder, before patting his knees and standing.

“Now, how about you finish your milk before it gets cold and you take a crack at sleeping again?” he took a few steps towards the laundry and then offered his hand to you, which you took, now more at ease, he noticed. 

As he helped you up, you gathered enough courage to ask, “What happened that made you come back so late?”. It did make Alastor think of a proper lie, but whatever he could think disintegrated like ash in his mouth. “It was my turn to dust off the equipment” which if you wished to verify with your cousin you’ll find that it was indeed true. 

But that didn’t explain the bruises. He followed your gaze and guessed you were still fixed on his small injury. “And I ran into an unpleasantry. But don’t fret, everything is just fine and dandy, as always” with your hand still in his, he placed a kiss on your disfigured knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Okay”, He knew you were no idiot and you didn’t swallow his half-told lie, but for the moment, it would have to do. 

For you it didn’t, it just piled up to the suspicions you were taking notes of. 

Four months had passed since the wedding. During that time you knew that something was awfully wrong with your so-called husband. It all became clear with the stench of blood, and how Alastor only returned home late the days the police weren't outside to make sure you didn't break the agreement. 

The first couple of times you thought it was a coincidence, but after two months, that had to be a pattern. 

Then - a few days after - a horrible smell began to spread through the house. One day you finished cutting some weeds from between the buds of your flowers. You searched like crazy for the source of the smell throughout the house, the bathrooms, under the kitchen sink, and so on.

You followed the stench until you came across an all too familiar space under the stairs. A space with wallpaper that was too new compared to the rest of the wall. Newly pasted and stuck to a hollow space. When you removed it, there was a door.

After ripping the fake layer and pushing the wooden door open, a thought burned from the depths of your mind, just like the disgusting smell that escaped from the basement, death.

You knew how it looked. 

Bloated limbs, a pale hue around the eye sockets, blue lips, veins popping. Scratched fingertips, purple patches of skin, red abrasions.

How it smelled. 

Vinegar-like smell, sour, pungent. The smell crawls under your skin, making you remember it for weeks. It takes your stomach in its grip and twists mercilessly. It stings your eyes, even your tongue as you breathe.

You know how it made you feel. Just never experienced it, not physically.

It didn't take you long to understand, the frozen hand among the butchered meat was a horrifying fact.

You married a murderer. 

What would have been the best way to react? A normal person would have probably packed their bags, alerted the police and left the house immediately.

But it was as if you were frozen in place, the little bit of lunch you had earlier, threatened to rise up your throat with every breath.

If your husband went to jail, you'd be in even more trouble than you were already in. You'd be even more unprotected, you'd end up either back with your cousin or worse, back at your father's house and then sent away again. 

That's what they would do unless the mobsters found you first. They say a bird in hand is worth two in the bush, in this case, two killers in the house against ten mobsters and thugs. Keeping him close perhaps...would be better than pushing him away.

But if that were the case, what would become of you after the year of arrest had passed? Would you end up on the same bloody steel table in front of you? Cut into pieces in a refrigerator?

Thinking about that, why would he have cut parts in a freezing unit? Unless. You checked the type of cut on one of the pieces defrosted by the malfunctioning machine, it was similar to the ones he brought from the butcher shop.

Either he was a cannibal or a seller. In this dire situation, you hoped for the latter. 

You moved the heavy container, it rattled and screeched, but you managed to move it enough until the back of it was in view. 

Against the concrete wall was a charred corpse of a rat, it must have chewed through the wires, ruined the equipment and lost its life in the process. “Sorry, but you should’ve known better, buddy" you pushed it away to bury later. 

Luckily Alastor had enough tools around to do a temporary rewiring. Although you knew you shouldn’t do him any favors, you figured it would atone his rage if you fixed it and saved whatever you could, rather than do nothing and add that to the fact that you broke into his space.

You burnt your fingers with the energy left in the cables after disconnecting them. Having finished the repair, you then set to separating what was tender and what was still frozen, salvaging what you could. There were two different coloured meat, one with a caucasian hue, - definitely not pork - and another darker, deer. You marked each with a different symbol to keep yourself safe. 

Even though you sealed the cause of the bad smell in a garbage bag, the stench was still in the air. With tears in your eyes you cleaned the entire basement, with all the cleaning chemicals you could find in the basement, until there were only chemical fumes.

For the first time in months you had to use the cream that Rosemary gave you, the chemicals burned through the gloves and bandages, to avoid the itching and burning you thought the ointment would be better, it didn't improve but it made it less strong.

After moving the meat in 'good conditions' to the freezer upstairs, you prepared a piece of human flesh to make meatballs. He had a meat grinder and a frying pan designated to that kind of business, so you simply followed the recipe, without tasting what you cooked, for obvious reasons. You had the pasta and sauce ready, so all you needed was for him to come home.

“Darling, you won’t believe it, the sponsors came to the station” you heard the door and the stumbling of the coat rack at the entrance, while Alastor was excited and happy. “They gave me the news segment, to talk about crimes and the Axeman!” you shouted ‘kitchen’ as he spoke to indicate him where to go.

“That’s amazing, welcome home” you congratulated him, sort of, setting up his spot on the table. “You didn’t need to wait for me” sometimes you did that, so you could indulge him, but most of the times you ate without him, (a portion a little less lady-like) and then served him, “I didn’t, but you worked all day, I wanted to have something warm for you”.

Alastor sat as you handed him a napkin to shield his white dress shirt and crimson vest from the red sauce. “Well how nice of you, my dear, much appreciated” he was truly thankful to have someone to cook, now he could ‘work’ until late hours without going to sleep without dinner. 

But his happiness would not last because when he put a piece of meatball in his mouth, and recognized the flavor, his eyes gave him away. ‘Fuck’ he thought, making it seem as if he closed his eyes because of his enjoyment and not stress.

“How is it?” you saw the change in his demeanor before turning to hide the ‘special’ frying pan in the sink to clean it. “Let me know if it has too much or little salt” oh he saw what you were doing, but two can play this game. “It’s perfect” How did you raise the gut to do this for him? What are you going to do next, immediate confrontation or just go ahead and cut off his head? Oh how excited he was to find out. 

Alastor had a chill of adrenaline run up his spine when you circled him as he chewed. He noticed a change in your walk, it was more secure, confident. Your hand slid across the table, then up his arm to his shoulder in a slow pace, agonizingly slow. You continued until he felt your breath hit the back of his neck. He bit his lip as soon as your arms were around his shoulders.

"You said you didn't have the need to lie to me" you began, with your scarred side softly pressed against his temple. 

"I did" your skin was dry, rough - he noted - but that didn’t matter, your new attention got under his skin, deeply. He was barely paying attention to your words, watching your fingers undo his bowtie.

"Yet you failed to mention the busted freezer in the basement, or that you even have a basement" Your voice was soft, calm and accusatory. It made Alastor nearly choke on a piece of meat. 

"I managed to save most of it, whatever was not tender enough to be bad" you heard him breathe, his chest rising up and down slowly. "Thank you, my darling, it was mostly venison" he had a hard time swallowing a piece of meat, his voice breaking as he spoke. 

"You and I both know that it's not, unless there’s a new kind of deer with hands instead of hooves" you pressed your lips together, only to make a pop sound next to his ear. "I cleaned everything downstairs, every single tool, even the blood behind the counter". You showed him you took off your gloves, so he could see your reddened skin because of the cleaning products. 

"I know what you are…Am I going to be next?" Despite your skills, you couldn't help but shiver at the thought of how he stalked and killed his victims.

"No, of course not" he made it seem as if it was obvious. Sure, if he wanted you dead, he probably wouldn’t have waited so long to try something. But every psychopath, like animals, taunt their prey differently. 

Everything was going fine within your plan to squeeze the truth out of him, but something very deep in your mind snapped, and thoughts started spirling through your mouth. 

"I should've seen it coming, I mean, why would you have said 'I do' in the first place if you weren’t insane?" you wanted to keep your calm stance, but your breath hitched, a couple of sweat drops fell from your brow. 

"A murderer and a man eater- uh no, that sounds wrong" a sudden feeling of repulsion forced you away from his warmth. "It only makes sense, why does it make sense?" you paced around the kitchen, reaching the edge of the sink, since your head started spinning, you rather have your head somewhere easy to clean. "I don't feel well", you pressed your hand to your chest, like that was going to stop your racing heart.

"Darling-" he stood up, like an instinct. He made his way towards you, just to see you draw a butcher knife from the sink, to hold it in the space between you. "Step back" you warned, at that he chuckled, his stare unmistakably challenging. 

"Are you going to kill me, my darling?" how could he maintain a smile in such a moment? one reason, you thought, he believed you frail or weak. "Can't, a life in prison is not worth your blood on the floor", and also you’d probably have to clean that too.

"Can't say I'm touched" in reality, he’d be lying if he didn’t think you incapable of harm in your bandaged state. He mused, keeping his eyes on yours, watching them drift anywhere but his stare. 

"Yeah? Well me either, I didn't even want to marry a sociopath, or anyone for that matter!" raising your voice after so long felt painful, like you were pulling a strain more than you should.

Everything should’ve been under control, but of course you had to start hyperventilating to top it off. "Why can nothing be easy? NOTHING! I get out, to be trapped again" Alastor watched you now with a concerned look, making no move to aid you, and to not get accidentally cut. "But that's how you like it, right?" you murmured, eyes filled with rage.

The walls darkened, the smell of rust hit you like a tidal wave. Everything was damp, or was it just you? The air felt heavy, your knees trembled and threatened to give out. Nothing made sense, at least you had that in the midst of the mental fog, you had to find an anchor to get out of the horror, because there was no way you were going to be in the cell again. Right?

"Y/n" he called you, but his voice didn’t reach your ears. "Just another one of your games, because of course you must like games" Alastor felt your words, you were staring at him, but somehow he felt as if you weren’t talking to him directly, "You're a hunter, you must see people as prey" you joked to ease yourself, but the moment your eyes went up to his eyes, you saw how he agreed wordlessly.

Your back hit a wall, which one? You didn’t know. 

"You know what? I've had it” you waved the knife, causing him to step back. “Do what you must, just bury me with my eyes closed or I'll come back to haunt you" Again, were you talking to him? He felt as if you were looking at a ghost, or many people at once given the speed your eyes moved around. 

He backed up to rest his hip against the counter. Thinking of a way he could ground you back from your fright. 

"I see it as a calling" he began, eyes closed as if he was summoning back that thrill. "It's like a magnet, it pulls something from within me, and... I follow it” and quite a strong pleasant pull, it always leads to a rotten soul who deserves to be eliminated. 

“That look on your face, the day we met" he got your attention with that memory, "That raw hatred, fear, that alert state, permanently making your body jump, keeping your mind awake" your brow moved closer, showing just how confused - or rather disgusted - you were.

"Tormented, yet so alive, I was drawn to that, in an unusual way" Now, he had absolutely no idea how to ground people with ptsd, but his monologue got you out of the cell, and dissipated the rusty smell. 

"My miserable self?" there you were, your defensive stance was back. 

"Your anger. Made me realize you're not different from me" you shook your head before answering, without knowing what truly led him, you knew you had a different motivation, "I disagree".

He only took a step forward when you dropped the knife. "Look me in the eye, tell me that you haven't had someone else's blood on your hands" he smiled, making you swallow a lump of saliva. "You read the file" he didn’t answer, nor did you ask really. "Answer me, please" how he said it, was so insistent but soft at the same time, it coaxed you to be honest, "I have".

He smiled, for the first time in four months he was having a conversation with you in his same language. "How did it feel?" you shook your head as soon as the rust threatened to come back. "Just nod if I'm right".

"You had your first scream, it ripped from your vocal cords out. With the first punch came the second, then the broken nose, blood and saliva on your knuckles. Every grunt of pain from them, released a knot from your stomach. Your mind was in a haze. Bolts of electricity jolting your every nerve. You wanted him dead, so you made it a reality" he had you cornered. His hand under your chin to maintain your eyes on his. 

"Have you ever had a moment when you felt truly alive, like that day?" his lips were so close, his nose touched yours softly, was he going to kiss you? Right now? "When I made it through the enrollment test" you whispered, taking Alastor by surprise, with new information.

"What?" he was taken aback, and so he turned to the drawer in which the file was stashed. "I knew it" you smiled, "You didn't read the file" ever so matter of factly you victoriously declared. He stepped back, eyes on the drawer, "I will, eventually". 

"You should've read it beforehand" without warning, Alastor’s head hit the ground. Lights out almost immediately. 

Almost. 

After a while of patching him up, you called Howard to his house, to explain, lousily, that your husband wouldn't be in conditions to go to work in a couple days. "Sorry Howard, is there anyone that can cover for him tomorrow?" luckily the next day was a friday and the news segment was on mondays. "He raised his hand, I reacted" you defended yourself. 

"He'll be fine" Howard asked you if he hurt you, "He didn't, he was just raising his hand and I...it was a reflex" an innocent accident. But he was in a good mood and swallowed your big fat lie, so he told you it was okay and hung up.

Seconds after you heard him, a groan of pain echoed through the hallway. "Sorry" you walked to his side, wrung out a small towel in a bowl of water, wicking away excess sweat and cleaning an accidental cut on his torso. "I had it coming" he certainly did, but he had you right where he wanted to, angry, truthful. 

"No", you cleaned the side of his face that hit the cabinet earlier - well, that you smashed against the cabinet earlier-. "You aimed at my gut, knees, and eyes. Even the back of my head, but never my throat, why?" Well, if we were being truthful, "You like the broadcast, I hear it everytime you talk about it" and also it would raise suspicions and probably his anger. 

He chuckled, a smile ear to ear on his face. "I don't know how you can smile after what I did..." you remembered he still doesn’t know what you did, "...To you" and given that, you corrected yourself. 

"How did it feel?" he took your hand, making you flinch against his flesh. "You wanted to teach me a lesson?" he caressed himself with your hand, still smiling as if he had won. "To show me just how much pain you can inflict" you didn’t respond, just rolled your eyes. 

"Honestly, I thought you'd rather stay in jail than with me, after finding out" the thought of it made you uneasy. "You knew I would?" he nodded in response, "One way or another. You're smart, you know that, hence why you don't let others see that" he kissed the cuff scar on your wrist. 

"People don't like smart-mouths" you watch his subtle touches on your hand, as your free one washed the remaining blood off his chest. "Men, as you noticed, don't like blunt and rough women" his look, his so arrogant grin and glint in his eye. 

You coughed out a high toned laugh, "HA! And you're going to tell me you do? And, that you find it attractive? Turns you on?, or are you going to take pity on me?" you hummed defiantly,  "That I'm special, pretty, that you can help me? Release my bindings and take me over the green hill?!" with one strong yank, you released yourself from his touch. 

"We're in this situation because my cousin doesn't want to deal with me, and because you need a social cover to not seem suspicious, and now I know the real reason why!" when your voice started rising, it took a couple seconds to lower it down again. "You don't even like me, and I certainly don't like you". Having finished cleaning the blood on his head, you rinsed the towel and threw the filthy water down the bathroom sink.

"I marked the meat that isn't deer, and rewired the freezer, but please buy a new one, I don’t like the stench of death" you couldn’t face him, not with his bruises and not while feeling the cramping that your own strength made on your hands, "I'll come check on you later".

"I thought you didn't like me" for his smug tone, you yanked one of the pillows supporting his head making him fall down to the first one with a yelp, "You're my husband, taking care of you is the only way I can pay you back for supporting me". 

"You have a beautiful smile" you were about to leave, but his words made you stoop in your tracks. "What?" he pointed to his head as he explained himself, "When you began banging my head against the floor, you smiled".

It was none but a deranged smile, but it made him so happy to see something else but sorrow in your face. "I know you don't like me, but I believe we at least understand each other". And then it made sense to you, "You allowed me to hurt you, why?" he nodded once, "You needed it, I saw it, and if I have to be honest…I enjoyed it".

Your puzzled look, trying to find some sense into the whole evening made him laugh, "Me seeing through your walls scares the living shit out of you, doesn't it?" he continued to chuckle. "And that amuses you" you arched a brow, hands to your waist not believing what you had in front of you.  

"Like you have no idea" his smile, you wish you could sew it shut and rip it off. “Ugh, you’re impossible" you groaned. “On another note” you turned to see him, “It is beyond lovely to see your true expressions” your grossed out expression had him on the verge of breaking in a fit of laughter. “You’re so weird” he gasped, “Because I love your true self? Darling I’m hurt” he pressed his hand to his chest, in dramatical pain.  

“Shut up” you closed the door behind you, hearing him chuckle to himself still, “Poetry”.

[bredforloyalty]

i am just asking if there is anyone who can give me a piece of advice i can USE or is it all guilttrips and half-hearted pats on the back

[quaranmine]

the amount of math i put into figuring out my PTO is honestly so funny. i've probably spent like 2 hours this week and last week just playing with the leave calculator spreadsheet my coworker gave me. this morning i added a sheet for 2026 so now i'm calculating my PTO out that far. i basically already have a plan of how i'm taking time off for 2025 so as to maximize my time off in 2026. i dont think this is a normal level of attention to detail but at least i'm having fun

[medicinemane]

.

[timeisacephalopod]

On one hand my one sister is Big Stupid and pregnant again, which I wouldn't care as much about if this wasn't the fourth kid with the fourth shitty fucking father who will do nothing but cause even MORE pain and suffering to my sister's life, and on the other hand my other sister keeps sending me apartment ads which is very sweet because she ALSO just had a baby (in August and also her situation is stable, I'm very proud she managed to pull off what she did considering where she's come from. Her boys, especially Older Nephew were SO excited for the baby and I love listening to Older Nephew talk about his sister, it's so heartening to see him so happy and excited. Something tells me my other sisters 3 girls won't be nearly as impressed, especially not Oldest Niece and it's gotten to a point where I feel somewhat compelled to try and mentor this poor kid but I don't know SHIT about kids and don't want to let this poor kid down like everyone else has, she deserves better than that).

Granted my whole life I've preferred Apartment Sister to Making Poor Life Choices sister but also recently Making Dumb Choices has made some serious improvements to her life, very impressive ones too, so it's just disappointing to watch her backslide especially into the same bullshit she's been doing since she was 18 and is now 32. But at least I'm not the only one apartment hunting 😂😂 her efforts are super appreciated given that she just moved herself as well, plus having a fresh baby (very cute baby too). Now with any luck my OTHER sibling will get her shit together hopefully before we're on child number six with father number six with all the same fucking personality flaws and mental health problems not one of these men take even remotely seriously because that's exhausting to me let alone my damn sister.